#i tried to capture it but maybe ill do better next time i draw her

[ilonacho]

My wife came up with the headcanon that her legal name is Crown to go with the dentist theme, but she changed it because Velvet and Veneer rolls off the tongue better👑

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

@theweasleyslut @vivacesole @weasleyclaw @nuttytani-reblogs @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @woakiees @wildfire-whizbangs @gcdric

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! 

[issaxcharlie]

You are the music in me

Pairing: Alive! Luke Patterson x Julie Molina

Request: SICK FIC JUKE: “Juke live together (but not dating yet) with Alex and Reggie all in apartment, both Julie and Luke wake up sick as dogs (flu/strep up to you) and force stay home from classes,sick by Alex. While being alone basically all day they finally admitted they like each other more than friends and get together when they start feeling better few days later.”

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST ANON🤍

This is not how Julie and Luke saw each other spending the weekend. They took care of Alex for a whole week together and just when the drummer began to feel better, his friends fell to the flu. To stop the chain of illness, Julie decided that it was best for Reggie and Alex to stay in Willie's instead of the apartment the four friends share until she and Luke recovered, but two stubborn patients taking care of each other is a somewhat chaotic combination.

"I can't take those pills, they are huge!" The guitarist has his arms crossed, his lips completely closed in a grimace almost impossible to undo.

"Luke, I've seen you eat two meatball sandwiches at the same time, I’m pretty sure one pill is not going to kill you."

He was about to continue fighting when Julie turns to cough. Every minute that passes she looks weaker and probably what she needs the least is to be carrying with his tantrums. So he takes the pills from her and passes them after maybe 15 tries and 3 possible chokes. Julie laughs slightly with each attempt, satisfied that at least he is trying for her.

Once they both finally finish taking all of their meds, Luke uses what little strength he has left to carry her in bridal style to her room. Julie tries to resist but her lack of strenght is way too much.

"Let yourself be taken care of, Molina." He whispers in her ear as he draws her closer to him. When they finally get to the room Luke gently lays her down on the bed and covers her in blankets to the best of his ability.

He feels bad for her. Because yes, he was there during Alex's illness, but the truth is that he didn't do much. The only reason he got sick is because he shares a room with him. On the other hand, Julie was faithfully taking care of her friend, taking his temperature, reminding him at the correct time about his medicines to the point of setting alarms at 4 in the morning just to make sure he got up to take them, made him hot meals and tea, she was the perfect nurse.

And what does she have instead? Him. The one who hates taking pills, doesn’t know how to take the temperature, much less what time the medicines are due, and he definitely doesn't know how to cook much more than a sandwich.

But something the aspiring musician does know how to do and sure as hell will do for her is giving her all the cuddles she might need (and probably want).

Luke walks to the other side of the bed and sits on the empty side, bringing burrito Julie into his arms, her resting her head on his chest.

He takes a few seconds to enjoy the situation. Yes, it is not at all what they expected to do today, on Saturdays they usually write all morning and rehearse all afternoon to go to some small club to play at night. The band was completely their priority on weekends as they had to study and work to support themselves, so the guitarist couldn't remember a Saturday where they stayed like this, doing nothing but enjoying each other.

Luke had become so immersed in that routine that he had simply sunk to the bottom those feelings that usually shine bright as the sun when they write or sing together or in rare moments like this one when he has her all for him, their hearts beating as one.

Realizing that he liked Julie was as easy as discovering his passion for music. When is her, everyday situations like hearing her rave happily about something that happened during the day feels like listening to his favorite song at full volume. And there’s the other side of it, those special moments like performing on a stage together. The sensations he gets are on a league of their own, their chemistry growing and enveloping in this mesmerizing explosion of energy. She’s this beautiful bright star that for some strange miracle, he is blessed to admire closely without burning.

The love and admiration he feels for her is so big that it terrifies him. In his experience, these types of sensations are not free. His passion for music completely cost him the relationship with his parents, not even the effort of continuing in school has made them give his dream of being a musician a chance.

What will it cost him to chase Julie in a romantic way? Their friendship? The band? What if things don't turn out as he would like and they end up fighting and separating the one thing that has cost them so much to build? Sleepless nights, hunger, blood, sweat, raising this dream has not been easy, could he really dare to risk it in this way? Could he be so selfish?

He often forces himself to think he couldn’t, but at that moment, Julie Molina swings her body to the side so she can look at him head on. Her big, beautiful dark eyes fixed on his.

“You aren’t usually quiet for more than 5 minutes, are you alright? Does something hurt? Do you want me to check your temperature?" With some effort, she manages to free the arm that is not resting on the bed and gently touches Luke's forehead, making sure he is okay.

He can't help but grin in response. She’s just so perfect. She shares the same passion as him, she fully understands the magical feeling of being on stage and it provokes on her the same excitement and adrenaline. She is sweet and cares about everyone, even loves his friends as much as he does. She is determined, smart, funny, beautiful. A lot of times he can't even understand how someone so perfect exists. And she not only exists, but is there next to him, wrapped in his arms.

“I- I’m fine, everything is fine, I promise. Focus on resting that angelic voice of yours.” She blushes as if that is not an already well established fact. He can’t help but look adoringly in response. He just loves to make her blush, being able to cause those reactions in her so easily.

You're right, I can't risk being replaced by one of the many groupies that have been after you lately." He can’t help a cocky grin, she blushes even more and decides to sink her head into his chest.

He takes advantage and hugs her even closer to him, bringing his head closer to her face to whisper in her ear.

"I could never replace you." He feels her expression changing in his chest, probably a smile. Her small hand squeezing his back in response.

“Liar.”

“Are you jealous, Molina? Because that’s hot.” She lets out a nervous laugh and Luke pulls her away just enough to be face to face.

“I’m not jealous.” She murmurs trying to sound sure, the image of those girls way too close to Luke at last weekend’s gig clouding her vision.

“Good, because you don’t have a reason to be.”

The singer looks down, she understood the opposite of what the guitarist was trying to say.

“H- Hey, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” With one of his fingers he carefully lifts her chin so he can see her eyes again.

There's a part of Luke that tells him to take a moment to think about what to say. The logical and sinic part. The one who knows that what he is going to do is going to cost him.

But the other party, the one who has been in love with Julie Molina for 2 years, is already tired of waiting and ready to take a leap of faith. And today that his mind is tired and weak, heart conquers logic.

Neither has spoken aloud about their special relationship, but they know something is there. It is a wordless fact between the two. And maybe it's time to add words to the melody.

“I meant you really don’t have to because all I hear, is you. I have tried to find peace in my soul with hundreds and hundreds of melodies, Julie. And it wasn't until I heard your voice that I found the right one.

Why would I even want to think of anyone else when I have so much more than I could have imagined across the hall every day? It’s always you. You, making sure I eat when I’m in my obsessive writer mode. You, stroking my hair when you think I fell asleep. You, spying me with your beautiful eyes between classes to make sure I’m actually on school. You, watching musicals with me till 5 am on Saturdays even thought we had one hell of a difficult day and a tired night just because you love to see my reactions. You, worried about me feeling bad when you are clearly sicker. It’s always you, Julie.”

In a moment of bravery, Julie brushes her lips against Luke's, waiting for him to make the final decision, which he doesn't take two seconds to make by capturing her lips on his, savoring finally being able to know what it feels like to kiss Julie Molina.

That it tasted like honey was not something that surprised him after seeing her eat several tablespoons of honey with lemon before bringing her to rest.

“Luke, remember when we watched High School Musical 2?” She grins, clearly happy with what just happened.

“Yeah, like a month ago.” he seems surprised with the random question but smiles to encourage her.

“Well, I mentally dedicated you ‘you are the music in me.’ Huh, It feels good to get it off my chest.”

He laughs. Anyone else would be offended or at least scared that the other person won't talk about what just happened, but they have a different connection. Music is the one who unites their souls and for she to tell him something as powerful as ‘you are the music in me’ is almost as strong as an I love you, maybe even stronger. Practically her subtle, awkward and wholesome way of saying he’s her person too.

And that’s more than perfect for him. She doesn’t need to say a speech, much less now that she is not feeling well. The love she shows him in a thousand ways every day is more than enough.

He knows that when they both improve and logic regains territory they will have a lot to discuss about their new relationship, but the most important step has already been taken. For now, all he has to worry about is that the tea turns out drinkable enough and keeping her warm enough with cuddles and kisses on the forehead... maybe some more on the lips too.

THANK YOU FOR READING✨✨

[reinerispretty]

beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt 9

hi everyone! thank u for being so patient with me with this series, i adore u all! 

pt1

pt8

“It seems so spooky here.” Katara wrung out her skirt. “Sokka, you’ve got an elbow leech.” Sokka yelled, ripping the leech off of his elbows. (Y/N) let out a laugh, unable to control the reaction. Sokka glared at her.

“If you ever get a leech, I’m not helping you get it off.”

“I wouldn’t need your help,” (Y/N) teased. “I could get it off myself without being a huge baby.”

(Y/N) felt her whole body tense when she saw the Fire Nation flags flying high over the city of Omashu. As she walked with her friends into the city, her mind raced with thoughts of what had happened the last time she had encountered the Fire Nation. She had lost a lot more than just her bending that day. 

She could hear Sokka’s complaints as they trudged through the sewers but she remained quiet. Her muscles were tight, ready to begin bending at a moment’s notice. When they had surfaced, she heard a voice call, “Hey! What are you kids doing out past curfew?” And she whirled around, ready to draw water out of the pouch on her hip, but Katara grabbed her hand. 

“We were just on our way home,” She told the Fire Nation guards, giving (Y/N’s) hand a reassuring squeeze as she did so. (Y/N) furrowed her brows but remained silent. 

Once they had convinced the guards that Sokka was deathly ill and needed to get home immediately, (Y/N) turned to Katara. “Why didn’t we just fight them? We could’ve taken them out.” 

“Keeping a low profile is really important, especially in places where the Fire Nation is concerned.” (Y/N) frowned. “We can’t draw any unwanted attention to Aang.” 

They camped out in an abandoned barn and spent the next morning and afternoon searching for Bumi. They had yet to find him by the time the sun started setting. (Y/N) felt herself growing increasingly frustrated with Aang. He was adamant about finding his friend, but she grew nervous around each Fire Nation guard that she saw. 

“I don’t like being here,” She mumbled to Katara. Katara looked at her nervously. Sometimes, Katara felt that (Y/N) was a ticking time bomb. She was fairly unpredictable. The last thing that anyone wanted was to draw attention to themselves, but (Y/N) was a risk. She had heard of what she had done back in the Northern Water Tribe when she had frozen Hahn in a ball of ice. If she did that to one of the guards...

Katara gave her a reassuring smile. “I understand,” she said, because she did. When Katara had first encountered the Fire Nation outside of her home, she was on edge as well. “But we have to keep low. It’s the best thing to do to keep us safe.” 

(Y/N) gave her a worried look, but conceded, and Katara felt herself let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. (Y/N’s) unpredictability had only increased since the passing of her sister. Katara worried sometimes, for her friend’s wellbeing, but she remained silent and watched. If needed, she would be prepared to intervene. 

They had crossed paths with a woman and a teenage girl walking with a young child. The group watched as a ball of earth went soaring toward them and Aang quickly disintegrated it to dust. The teenage girl, excited by the new movement in her daily life, chased after the group. 

Sharp, pointed darts soared past (Y/N) and her friends as they ran away. She tried her best to deflect them, but her waterbending skills still paled in comparison to Aang and Katara’s. She turned away from the girl with a frown and led her friends down a narrow alley with a dead end. She heard them all inhale a deep breath of surprise before the ground swallowed them whole. 

They encountered Earth Kingdom insurgents who had told them their plan of retaking the city. But their time in Omashu was met with less upheaval than (Y/N) had expected. They evacuated all of the insurgents by pretending the group had pentapox, the fake disease that they had invented for Sokka. Then, they encountered the Fire Nation Princess and her friends, the teenage girl from earlier and another girl who could block their chi, essentially inhibiting their waterbending. (Y/N) had let out a yell as her waterbending had been stolen from her for the time being. She had collapsed to the ground, unable to move her arms, and watched as Sokka ran toward the girl with his boomerang. She tried her best to limit his mobility as well, but he was too fast. He grabbed (Y/N) into his arms and ran away with her. 

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) had said. “My legs work perfectly, let me down!” But Sokka hadn’t listened to her. He ran back toward Appa, where Aang and Katara were waiting for them. “Sokka, let me go!” 

“You’re welcome for saving you,” Sokka grumbled as she was lifted onto Appa’s saddle. She frowned unhappily. 

“I would’ve been alright. It’s only a matter of time until I get my bending back and then--” 

“And then what, (Y/N)?” Sokka snapped. “You’d be captured by the Fire Nation. No, thank you.” Her frowned deepened and she turned away from Sokka before she said something she really regretted. She could feel the bending coming back to her arms slowly. She resolved that the next time they would stop for water, she would splash him for good measure. 

The next time they stopped was not for a few days’ time. Aang started leading Appa downward, to a swamp that they passed over. “Aang?” Sokka asked. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I think the swamp is calling me,” Aang said, his voice unsure. 

“Is it calling you to some food?” Sokka grumbled. 

“I don’t know about that swamp,” (Y/N) said. “It looks...scary?” 

“We’ll only stop for a moment,” Aang reassured them, casting a smile at (Y/N). She smiled back, but she was still unsure. Sokka shook his head. 

“We should keep going.” With a sigh, Aang agreed. They flew past the swamp, resolving to find another place to stop, but a tornado formed, dragging them down into its depths. (Y/N) was flung from the saddle, landing in the damp water that surrounded the plants. As she blinked her eyes open, she noticed the dark shade that encompassed the land of the swamp. The trees cascaded over them, blocking almost any sunshine that could enter. 

“This place gives me the creeps,” (Y/N) said as she stood, crossing her arms over her chest. Katara nodded. 

“It seems so spooky here.” Katara wrung out her skirt. “Sokka, you’ve got an elbow leech.” Sokka yelled, ripping the leech off of his elbows. (Y/N) let out a laugh, unable to control the reaction. Sokka glared at her. 

“If you ever get a leech, I’m not helping you get it off.” 

“I wouldn’t need your help,” (Y/N) teased. “I could get it off myself without being a huge baby.” 

“Oh please, you’d scream just like any of us.” 

“You don’t know that.” (Y/N) and Sokka both rolled their eyes at the same time. 

“I can’t find Appa or Momo,” Aang said gravely. All three of his companions gulped. Their only way out of the swamp was now currently missing. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be a normal day with out something unfortunate happening to us,” (Y/N) sighed. “They have to be somewhere around here.” 

“Guess we better start searching,” Sokka said, using his machete to whack through the clumps of vines that blocked their path. Nervously, Aang, Katara, and (Y/N) followed him. 

As Sokka hacked through the vines, Aang said, “Maybe we should be a little bit nicer to the swamp.” 

“Aang, these are just plants. Do you want me to say "please" and "thank you" as I swing my machete back and forth?“ 

“Maybe you should listen to Aang,” Katara said. “Something about this place feels ... alive.” 

“I can feel it too,” (Y/N) agreed. “And it doesn’t feel very happy.” 

“I'm sure there are lots of things that are alive here and if we don't wanna wind up getting eaten by them, we need to find Appa as fast as we can.” To punctuate his statement, Sokka sliced through another thick set of vines. 

They searched for hours until the sun began to set, so they agreed to stop and camp for the night. (Y/N) felt increasingly uneasy as she sat by the fire that they had built. Each moment they were there, it felt like more and more eyes were watching her. Every little sound made her whip her head to see its source. 

She tried her hardest not to fall asleep but eventually her own exhaustion got the better of her. The four of them had fallen asleep huddled together. (Y/N) lay between Aang and Katara, snoring softly as she experienced a dreamless sleep. She woke to the feeling of something crawling up her leg. Sleepily, she opened her eyes to see the blurry outline of a vine wrapping itself around her legs. (Y/N) blinked her eyes to get a clearer image, but just before she could warn her friends, they were all pulled apart from each other. 

A scream ripped from her throat as she felt herself and her friends be pulled deeper into the swamp mist. Twigs and branches scratched at her skin as she was dragged. The swamp became darker the deeper she traveled. (Y/N) knew she had to act fast or else she might not find her friends again. Freeing one hand from the vines, she formed a water whip to slice through the vine. It dropped her to the ground, the vines that were wrapped around her body falling limply to her side. (Y/N) scrambled to her feet and started running back to where she had come. 

The vines licked at her ankles as they chased her but (Y/N) would cut them as soon as they caught up to her. She ran for what felt like hours until eventually the vines receded back into the swamp. She sat herself on a rock to catch her breath. “Aang!” She called out. “Sokka? Katara!” She started walking again. She tried to make mental notes of what areas she had passed through before, but it was no use. It was like the swamp was changing each time she walked through. She would think that she recognized a stump, but then see some completely new formation of earth beside it. 

(Y/N) felt herself growing increasingly frustrated as she walked through the forest. Being without her friends in an unknown area made her feel anxious. But then, just through the thick of the trees, (Y/N) saw a bright light. Thinking it might be Aang in his Avatar State, she raced towards it, shouting his name. When she arrived in the clearing, she did not find Aang, but instead found a glowing, familiar spirit. 

“Yue?” (Y/N’s) voice was only a whisper, but the spirit turned around nonetheless. Yue hovered above the ground in her glowing moon-like state. (Y/N) felt her hands shaking at her sides. The spirit hovered closer to her, until their faces were just inches apart. 

“You let me die,” Yue said, her face harsh and accusatory. (Y/N’s) eyes widened in surprise. They welled with tears and (Y/N) shut them tight to prevent them from falling. When she opened her eyes, Yue was gone. 

(Y/N) wanted to get as far away from that area as possible, so she darted back the way she had come. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her. She almost didn’t realize that someone was standing in front of her until she collided with them. The force knocked them both to the ground. 

“Ow!” Shouted Sokka, rubbing his head. “That’s the third time you’ve run into me, you know.” 

“Sokka!” (Y/N) breathed. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” Sokka helped her to her feet. “We need to get out of this swamp as soon as possible. I hate it here.” 

“Yeah, no kidding. You won’t believe who I saw.” Before (Y/N) could press him further, Aang and Katara came rolling down the hill, knocking Sokka and (Y/N) to the ground once again. 

“What do you guys think you're doing?” Sokka exclaimed as he stood. “I've been looking all over for you!”

“Well, I've been wandering around looking for you,” Katara said as she rubbed her head. 

“I was chasing some girl,” Aang said. 

“What girl?” (Y/N) asked. 

“I don't know. I heard laughing and I saw some girl in a fancy dress.” 

“Well, there must be a tea party here and we just didn't get our invitations!“ Sokka said sarcastically. 

“I thought I saw Mom,” Katara said quietly. 

“Look, we were all just scared and hungry and our minds were playing tricks on us. That's why we all saw things out here.” Sokka put his machete back in its holster. 

“You saw something too?” Katara asked. Sokka sighed. 

“I thought I saw Yue. But, that doesn't prove anything. Look, I think about her all the time, and you saw Mom, someone you miss a lot.” 

(Y/N) remained silent, eyeing Sokka up and down. He wouldn’t look at her. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt anger bubbling up inside of her.

“What about me?” Aang asked. “I didn't know the girl I saw. And all our visions led us right here.” 

“So where’s here? The middle of the swamp?” (Y/N) raised her head to look at the treetops. Light still barely filtered in. 

“Yeah, the center ... it's the heart of the swamp. It's been calling us here. I knew it.” Aang placed his palm on the large tree behind them. 

“It's just a tree. It can't call anyone. For the last time, there's nothing after us and there's nothing magical happening here,” Sokka grumbled. Just as he finished his sentence, a monster made out of seaweed emerged from the swamp. Their group screamed in surprise but quickly readied themselves for a fight. 

Sokka was grabbed by the monster’s vines, being flung to and fro. (Y/N) raised water into the air and froze it, sending the freezing ice shards into its arm. It cut through the vines but they healed back together. 

As they fought, Sokka was absorbed into the seaweed monster’s body. Katara used her waterbending to free him and as Sokka landed on the ground, he sprung back to his feet. “There’s someone in there bending the vines!” Aang used his airbending to cut down the middle of the monster, revealing a man in nothing but a leaf loincloth. 

“Why did you call me here if you just wanted to kill us?” Aang demanded. The man stopped his waterbending. 

“I didn’t call you here.” 

After learning the man, whose name was Huu, was only attacking them because he was a protector of the swamp, the group was able to engage in a completely normal conversation with him. They learned that the swamp was indeed a mystical place, that showed them people they had lost or loved, or both. Time didn’t necessarily count in the swamp, so the girl that Aang had seen would be someone he would meet. 

After eating dinner with the swamp waterbenders and finding Appa and Momo, the group hopped on Appa’s back and flew off into the night. (Y/N) sat toward the back of Appa’s saddle, watching as the swamp disappeared into the horizon. For the first time in weeks, she looked up at the full moon that shined brightly down on her. 

Although it was just an illusion, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel uneasy at what her the apparition of Yue had said. She had let her die. This was a statement that (Y/N) had wrestled with ever since her sister had given her life for the wellbeing of the world. If she had tried harder to convince Yue to stay, perhaps she could have found another way to bring back the Moon Spirit. Instead, all she did was watch and cry as her sister died. 

She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed Sokka scooch to sit beside her. She jumped when he cleared his throat. “You saw someone in the swamp too, didn’t you?” 

(Y/N) didn’t look at him. She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit she had developed when she was anxious. “I saw Yue, too.” 

“That makes sense,” Sokka said. “Since it was someone you cared about.” 

“I didn’t just care about her,” (Y/N) snapped. “She is my sister. The exact same blood runs through our veins.” (Y/N) swallowed. “Ran through our veins.” 

“I know what you’re feeling-” 

“You really don’t, Sokka. You knew Yue for a few days. She was the only person I trusted during my entire life.” 

Sokka’s face fell, saddened by what (Y/N) had said. She knew she had struck a nerve, but she didn’t care. She didn’t find it very fair that Sokka had a piece of her sister as well. Yue was kind and loving and an exceptional person, but she was (Y/N’s). And (Y/N) didn’t like that she had to share her memory now with a boy that barely knew her. 

Sokka crawled away from (Y/N) and sat back down at Katara’s side. Katara gave him a sad smile and whispered, “She just needs time.” 

Sokka did not reply. 

---

Tag List!

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[ikeromantic]

Horns

Day 24 of Ikemektober!

I chose Shakespeare - I’ve no idea what happens in his route. This is entirely my brain (caffeinated), the prompt, and deciding The Bard had to get his own story. It’s spicy fluff. Approx 1800 words.

Will picked up the costumes for his next production - a new play, inspired by his patron. They were fanciful pieces, with bat wings and goat horns and hooves. There was even a serpent-skin coat in the lot. Perfect for the story of a devilish king and his court of impish jesters. 

The play was equal parts suffering and passion. He hoped Comte would come to see it, or that rumors of it would reach his ears at least. Taunting the old vampire was a dangerous sport, but for William, that only made it a more alluring pursuit.

If he had eternity, or close to it, to make his plays, there was no subject that was taboo. He would push his art to its limit - and his life with it, as his plays were so enmeshed with experience that sometimes he had trouble separating one from the other.

“Will? Will, is that you?” The voice caught him mid-thought. His arms were so full of costumerie that he couldn’t see who was speaking, but he knew anyhow. 

“What fair maid calls mine name so sweetly? Could it be my newest friend?”

She laughed in reply, a bright sound. Unburdened. “I don’t know why you always speak in poetry, Will.” 

He felt her hand touch his arm, the lightest brush of her fingertips like a touch of fire. “Do you need help carrying those in?”

“Fear not, I’ve strength enough to finish - but if you could - the door?” Shakespeare heard her open the door to his home. He walked in and set the costumes on the nearest table. 

The girl followed him in, her eyes darting about in curious fashion - as if she wanted to see everything before he stopped her looking. 

Will smiled. It was strange to see her here, alone. He wondered if the Comte’s imps knew she’d come. He somehow doubted it. “To what do I owe this unforeseen pleasure? I hope tis nothing untoward.”

“Oh, no. I was just going to market to pick up a few things and I saw you getting out of the carriage.” She shrugged, the gesture gentle and indefinable feminine. “I thought maybe you’d like to have a coffee with me - or a tea. We didn’t get to talk much last time I saw you.”

“No, indeed we did not. You are always most welcome here, whither you’ve only passed by or come to visit with intent.” He motioned to his parlor. “Please, go in and sit down. I’ll put on some tea.”

Her bright smile returned. “Good! I was hoping you weren’t busy right now, but when I saw you with all those - clothes?” She glanced at the pile with wide eyes, “I thought maybe you were in the middle of something.”

“I am never to busy to see you, fair one.” He found his own mouth curling upward with genteel pleasure. The sensation made him vaguely uneasy, as if this was dangerous ground he tread. She always did this - setting him on edge with her cheery disposition. He wondered if something dark lay beneath it, something that, with prying, he could uncover. If so, it lay deep.

Will left to put on a pot of tea. When he came back, she was still in the entry hall, picking at the pile of costumes. 

“What are you doing?”

She jumped back, dropping her hands to her sides. “I - sorry! They just looked so interesting. I wanted to see if I could figure out the play from the clothing.” Her hands grasped her skirt, a nervous gesture. 

Shakespeare closed the distance between them in a few quick steps. He knew how unnerving his heterochromatic gaze was, especially on silly little girls. “And? Did you find me out?”

“M-midsummer Night’s Dream?” She guessed, voice full of hope. 

“No.” Will leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. “I am afraid you’ve now been rude on two accounts. Searching through what belongs to another, and assuming a dramatist is bound by their older work.” The irritation he felt around her lent heat to his words, a sharpness despite his soft voice. 

She looked down. “I’m so sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She sounded almost at the edge of tears, far more upset at his reprimand than he expected. 

Will drew a line with his finger at the edge of her jaw and tipped her face up to his. “I shall forgive you this once, if you consent to a single favor. What say you, fair maid?”

“A favor?” She was trembling, her pulse racing. Excitement or fear? Will wasn’t certain.

“Indeed. I’ve need to check each costume you’ve handily sorted through in that pile. I can try on the gents’ clothing but the ladies’ outfits I must use a mannequin for. Today, you will be my mannequin.”

Her face brightened, though he could still feel her galloping heartbeat. “I could - could do that. It sounds exciting!” She bit her bottom lip, suddenly thoughtful. “Would you tell me what the play is about?”

“Perchance, if I am pleased.” Shakespeare stepped away from her, relieved and disappointed by the distance between them.

She immediately headed back to the pile of costumes, picking at them until she’d found a woman’s costume. “What is this one supposed to be?” She held up the oddly cut dress. It was all long, straight lines and harsh edges. Dark colors.

“It is clothing from the future.” He couldn’t help the wicked smile that lit up his thin face. 

“Oh! Neat!” Her innocent enthusiasm missed the point entirely. She took a step toward the parlor, uncertain where she should go to change.

“Yes, you may undress in safety there. I shall refrain from opening the door.”

The tea kettle summoned him with its high pitched whistle. He went to pour the tea, and brought back a tray to set out for them both once the costume-modeling was done.

For himself, he chose the horned outfit. It was Faustian, at a glance. The jacket was black-furred, and the boot cover was made of hoof. The horns themselves were from a goat, but polished to obsidian black. The knobby twists seemed to capture the afternoon sun, reflecting nothing back. 

Shakespeare stepped into this study to change. It felt odd to slide on the heavy jacket. The pants were a little big on him, but solidly made and adjustable with the addition of a belt or suspenders. He slid the headpiece on last, savoring the weight of the horns.

The mirror showed him what a monster he’d become with just the change in wardrobe. He looked wild now, like a faun or a devil, out to hunt virgins in sacred groves. Will shook his hair loose to further the effect. In this, he was the divine hunter. The gentleman demon. It was funny how a costume could often bring out secrets closely held.

He stepped back into the entry hall. The girl was still shuffling around in the parlor. He could hear her. 

“Are you in need of assistance, fair one?”

“I- uh - the buttons are, they’re kind of hard to reach.” 

“Then rescue you, I shall. For what troubles lie under the sun that cannot be bested by two hearts in concert?” He pushed open the door.

Sunlight came through the curtains, painting the room in sunset hue. The girl was standing straight, trying in vain to hold the gown up with one hand, the other reaching for buttons ill-placed. Her cheeks were stained pink, eyes wide.

“Tis no matter, fair maid. I’ve seen many a pretty half in, and half-out of costume. You’ve no need to fear my eye, nor my helping hands.” Will tried to reassure her, though he found her discomfort amusing. He had, in fact, seen many beautiful actresses in all stages of undress, but none quite like her. 

Her face didn’t have the diamond hardness of the determined beauty. She lacked the edge of feminine weaponry, as if ignorant of her body’s charms. It only made him more away of her bare shoulders, the curve of her breast at the side. The naked line of her back as she turned to present him with the impossible buttons.

“You look amazing,” she babbled. “Like a faun! It’s called a faun, right? But . . . more cultured?” She inhaled sharply as Will brushed a finger down her spine. 

“More of a devil, I’m afraid.” Her shiver provoked in him a need to touch her. He resisted it. He was the writer of passions - a witness. Not a participant. The director did not star in his dramas. He buttoned the dress and stepped away from her.

The girl turned to face him, brushing a hand down the front of the dress to smooth it. The dark blue was perfect for her. And the way it clung to her curves - indecent. Will did not think he’d see a clearer map of her body even if she stood nude before him. Best was the slit up the side of the skirt, as if made for a dancer. Her skin tantalized in glimpses, drawing the eye.

“You’re staring. Is it - is it bad?”

“No.” Shakespeare shook himself. “It is a perfect costume for the victim of a demon.” He gave a wicked sharp smile. “Do you feel like a victim, fair one?”

She started to laugh, but stopped at his forbidding expression. “You kind of scare me sometimes, Will.”

“And fear me you should. For I am a wicked creature.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest. She smelled sweet, like perfume. 

“Will,” she gasped, trying to pull away.

“It is too late for you, fair maid. To my lair you came, and now you shall never leave.” He lowered his head to her neck, letting her feel the slightest prick of his fangs.

“Th-this isn’t funny. Let me go,” she whimpered. 

Shakespeare realized his own heart was beating as wildly as hers, his breath as ragged. He pushed her away. “I am - am only acting my part. The horned devil.”

“Then you’re a pretty good actor.” She stared at him, wary. “I think I should probably go.” 

Will reached up, touching the cold, sharp tip of one of the horns. “Yes, perhaps you should. Send the dress - no, better, keep the dress. It fits not the character of my new script, but I think it sits perfectly upon you.”

She blushed. “Ah, alright. If you’re sure.” Though she took a few steps toward the exit, it seemed she would hesitate, now uncertain if he posed a danger to her. 

Shakespeare stepped closer to her, widening his thin, sharp smile. “Unless, fair maid, you’d like to stay and allow me to remove the garment from your skin . . . with my teeth.” 

“Nope! No thank you!” She practically ran away, comical in her haste. 

Will stood there in the sun-drenched parlor, still smelling her light perfume. It felt so much emptier with her gone. And though he’d hoped for peace in her absence, he felt only turmoil. 

“Perhaps I truly am bedeviled,” he mused. The blackened horns atop his head bobbed in silent agreement.

[ownworldresident]

We Are Our Own Heroes. Chapter Two: Bayside

Book: The Royal Romance, seven years post-TRR

Premise: Six years after a tragic loss, Liam and his adopted daughter meet Cassandra, an artist with her own troubled past, and the three find in each other the friend they never knew they needed.

Disclaimer: Setting and some characters belong to Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them and will return them when they feel better.

Themes: found family, (power of) friendship, healing

The Master Masterlist (link) ---  Our Own Heroes Masterlist (link)

Liam

Saturday rolled around again. Nothing could lift the heavy circles under Liam’s eyes or take away his yawns, and the coffee could only do so much. He took solace in the fact that he could crash hard later that day. Emily had a harder time against this team. He kept score in his head, crossing his fingers and sending encouraging smiles whenever she glanced his way. The final whistle blew as they started from the centre of the court. Emily looked around to find her coach, then converged with her teammates. A moment later they cheered at the score. The crowd filed out and Liam waited for Emily to take her time with her friends. He nodded to the few spectators who looked his way. Today’s game was a late one, and the court was almost bare except for a few chatting kids and waiting parents. He yawned again, and when he opened his eyes, Cassie stood beside him. He blinked, too tired to conceal his surprise. “Sorry,” she chuckled, “didn’t mean to startle you.” “No, that’s alright,” he replied, “long week.” “Here I thought being king would be easy.” Cassie folded her arms across her chest. Liam breathed a laugh, but that was all he could manage. Something had happened, in the last few weeks, to throw him off balance.

“Challenging. But rewarding.” “A standard answer.” She smiled, then sighed. Liam watched her torn expression morph into resolve. “She’s lucky to have you,” she continued, turning to Emily a moment. Liam did not follow her gaze, but watched Cassie instead. “Thank you,” he answered, wary of the direction of the conversation. "My sister was really ill years back, and I moved in to take care of her boys for a while. I was only 24 at the time. I knew nothing about children, and they were so small.” Cassie smiled, and Liam waited to see if she would continue. He was glad the courts were emptying, and there was no one within earshot. “She was living out in the country, and I’d come straight from university in Amsterdam. No one really thought I should be the one to look after them, it was hard, but it… was the right thing to do, I think. They are such dear boys.” She looked down, a little heat in her cheeks, and Liam frowned. “You knew what they needed.” He found himself saying. “Where they’d come from.” She nodded, lifting her head again. “Maybe someone knew better. But I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I’d failed my sister when she needed me most.” Liam took in her words, feeling the memory come to him again. He blinked, and remembered where he was. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked gently. Cassie turned to him, then away again, cheeks a little redder. “I’m not sure.” She sighed. “I suppose I wanted you to know. It’s hard when no one believes in you. When no one understands.” Her voice trailed as she finished, but a moment later strengthened again. “I haven’t coached Emily before, but I have seen you around. I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but if you ever need someone to talk to.” She lifted her shoulders, trying not to fold in on herself. “I’m here.” Liam pulled away from her, realising how unguarded he had been during the conversation. “Thank you,” was his final reply. What else could he say? Something more articulate if he was awake enough. Cassie nodded, then pulled something from her jacket pocket. As he suspected, the paper she handed him had her name and mobile number. “I’m not asking you to call me or anything,” she said with a more familiar cadence. “But if you need…” she smiled, “I’m here.” And with a nod, she walked away. Liam pocketed the note, and tried and failed to decipher whatever subtext he had missed. He didn't get much time to do so. A rush of colour preceded an impact against his side and he nearly stumbled. Emily wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him, grinning, eyes shining with exertion. “Movie?” she said, leaning her chin against his stomach. Liam could hardly watch her insistence without laughing. “That depends.” He raised his eyebrows, and Emily frowned. “On what?” Leaning down, Liam gently detached her from him, kissed the top of her head, and stepped back. “On whether you can beat me to the car!” He ran, but not to win. Odd looks followed from those around them, but Liam’s focus was on the small shape darting ahead.

Cassandra

The last of the kids departed, and Cassie continued to pack up. The work took her hands to complete but not her mind, and she whisked herself away to some place colourful. Somewhere she could go to create. With everything packed away, she hoisted the ball bag over her shoulder and carried it to her car. She reflected on her interactions with Liam and Emily. Had she been too abrupt with her offer? She’d only known him a few weeks and spoken to him twice, and he had seemed concerned. That was the reason she had offered it, she reminded herself. All she could do was hope that her manner wasn’t off-putting, if a friend was what he needed. And if he didn’t act on her offer, like her mother had always said, at least she had tried. Back in her studio apartment, Cassie tossed her keys in a bowl by the door and the sports bag on the ground. “Back to work,” she informed no one in particular. Peeling off her clothes, she threw them in the direction of her bed. Then she changed into old stained things, and twirled a charcoal pencil between her fingers. With soft music as a backdrop, several hours and a glass of wine passed before she admitted defeat. The line work on her canvas was approximately complete but nothing in her usual colour palette captured the feel of it. The much larger canvas nearby was as blank as the day she bought it. It taunted her lack of inspiration. There was plenty of time, she told it, and pointedly avoided the calendar on her wall ‘with exhibition’ circled two months from now. Around dusk, a miasma of sunset shades began to leak in through the window and touch her other pieces. Her stomach growled on cue as she registered the time. It occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten since midday yesterday. As good a reason as any, she reasoned, to take a break. She grabbed her jacket and keys and headed out again.

---

After dark on a Saturday, the boardwalk came to life. Cassie reclined in the corner of her favourite establishment, drink in one hand, pencil in the other. Always carry a sketchbook. And when she wasn’t in front of a canvas her hand flowed freely. The din of the bar was chatty and friendly. Two and a half walls were open to a balcony over the bay. People meandered in and out or stood or sat in groups, waving their hands in animated recounts of their life events. Warm lighting like this was perfect for sketching. Her knees were nearly against her chest at a booth in the corner and hid most of her work from prying eyes. An easy sketch sat nearby. Rolling her shoulders back, Cassie drew his outline. He hunched over the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, denim jacket concealing muscled arms and a t-shirt. He came most weekends, she noticed -detailing the perfect frown- but never seemed to be fully here. When she looked up again he was gone. “Having fun?” The low voice resonated from the same booth she sat at. Cassie hadn’t noticed his approach. She pulled her sketchbook against her chest as she turned to him. Too late, the regular had noticed his likeness. “What gave it away?” she asked, reaching for her cocktail. He shrugged. “You’ve hardly touched your drink.” He gestured to the almost full glass in her hand, ice almost melted. She grinned and took a sip. “Likewise.” She indicated his glass. He rarely took more than a shot at a time. “This isn’t meant to be rushed.” He gazed at his drink with reverence and she tried not to laugh. “Uhuh.” Cassie took another sip and looked back at her sketch as she put the glass down. “What do you think?” “Of your sketch?” He reclined. “You’re very talented.” “Not what I was going for, but thanks.” Cassie smirked, then turned her book so he could see the drawing better. “Did I get you right?” He shrugged, took another sip, then shook his head. “I don’t frown that much.” Cassie spilled her drink on the table as she laughed, which only made her laugh more. When finally she regained control, he was waiting. “Yes, you do.” The man turned away. His attempt at a severe frown fell short as the tiniest curve of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. She picked up her pencil again and started adding the new expression. “I’m Cassie,” she said into the silence, no longer able to leave his sketches unnamed. Leaning toward her book to focus on the detail of his lips, she waited for his response. Instead, when she looked up, he had turned to her fully, and intensely. “What?” “So you’re Cassie,” he said. She frowned this time. “What do you mean?” He blinked, glanced at his drink for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, sticking out his hand, “I’m Drake.”

What Happened Six Years Ago

Drake

Drake found Liam in the hall of the children’s hospital. The day was more than over, and the quiet was eerie. He lowered himself to the seat beside Liam, and they sat in silence for some indeterminate time, receiving awkward glances from the few hospital staff that passed. “Li—” Drake started, realising with a cough that he hadn’t spoken in several hours. He cleared his throat. “Liam, I think…” But there weren’t any adequate words to come after that. “We should figure out what to do next.” Liam didn’t respond. He stared wide-eyed at the ground, fingers laced around the back of his head and elbows braced on his knees. How far into his mind had he retreated? “We should think about—” “It doesn’t matter.” Drake's chest tightened at the heaviness in Liam’s voice. Like he couldn’t intonate. He paused, and searched for what to say next.   “You can’t sit in a hospital corridor all night. You need to decide what to do. There’s the… her…” Drake turned from his friend, trying not to imagine the view of the night before in that old, musty room. He wasn’t successful. “I can organise our trip back to Cordonia, and you can send people back to investigate, but you need to make the call about her…” he swallowed painfully past the lump in his throat. “Anna’s body.” The words came out hoarse. “Coming with us. Bastien is organising it.” New information to Drake, but he nodded. “And the kid.” “Emily.” Liam croaked, then sighed. The door closest to Liam’s other side was the girl’s room door. “She won’t be here much longer. We need to organise where to leave her.” “Leave her?” Liam looked up, finally, and Drake struggled to keep focus when confronted with the red, grief stricken eyes of his friend. “Once she leaves the hospital, we need to find a home for her.” Liam balked, leaning away from him, and the sudden movement was jarring. “Drake she’s coming with me. How could you even suggest …” Liam stood and looked down to him. “I made a promise.” “You said you’d take care of her.” “At my home, yes.” “Liam you can’t be…” Drake stood as well to be on a level. “She’s barely three years old. You don’t know anything about children.” Liam stared at him. “You still don’t get it.” Drake made a sweeping gesture but continued in an even voice. “Then help me get it. What do you owe her, after what she put you through?” “I promised—” Liam halted as his volume rose, then sighed again and lowered his voice. “I promised I would protect her. Handing her over to social care or their equivalent here, however fortunate she might be in finding a family who treats her as she deserves, is not enough.” Drake grit his teeth, struggling to find a way to bring reason to Liam’s emotional argument. He was no more prepared to raise a child than Drake was. “Three years old,” Drake repeated, hesitant. “She won’t remember what happened. Taking her away from here isn’t fair to her.” “And what if she does remember? Do you think you will ever for… forget…” Liam slumped back against the wall and down to his seat again. He raked his fingers through his hair and groaned, and when he looked up again he looked paler and more tired than Drake had ever seen him. “As I said,” Liam drew in a long breath. “I made a promise. I won’t leave her fate to chance.” No matter his grievance, Drake couldn’t force Liam to consider something he was set against. Maybe in a few days, when his thoughts cleared, he could convince Liam that finding Emily a family was better than taking her in himself. After all, there was no way he would be able to move on from Anna while raising a child who looked just like her.

------

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[harrystyleswatermelon-sugar]

Gas station encounter Part V

Part IV

A few hours later I await him in front of my door and as he pulls up and gets out I can see the frown on his face.

“Hey, this is a relaxing weekend, you shouldn’t have carried your bag down here!” he says and I laugh until I realize he is serious.

“Well I´m sorry, you can take it from here on” he nods and tosses my bag in his back seat. We drive to his home and I am amazed by how huge this is.

“Are you living here alone? Isn´t it lonely? I sometimes hate it in my 3 room flat but this is the next, next level” he smiles and shuts down the engine.

“It is but I wanted to buy something where I can spend my life. And this is big enough to have a family someday and a bunch of kids” he explains as I follow him up the steps. He gives me a house tour and shows me where the huge guest room is. I even have my own bathroom.

“So, let´s get some music on and while I prepare dinner you take a nice bath, how about that? I put everything in your bathroom, enjoy” he winks at me and I smile.

“Thank you, see you in a bit” I wink at him and do to check out what he got for my spa day.

After my bath, which was really relaxing and soothing for my hurting legs and feet, I put on some comfy clothes and go back downstairs. My hair is still wet and when I walk down I can smell the food he made. He listens to some music and has changed into a pair of grey sweatpants, which hang low on his hips. His T-Shirt is the same as before and I watch how he swings his hips to the beat. He has a towel on his shoulder and stirs in a pot.

t“Smells amazing, what is it?” I ask and step closer to him. He turns his head towards me and holds out a spoon for me to taste what he is cooking. It looks like a curry and it definitely tastes like one, too. It´s delicious and when I tell him, he turns a bit red.

We sit down at his huge dining table with a glass of wine and our plates filled with his curry. We chat and laugh and when our eyes meet, I can feel a tingle in my stomach. Eventually, we end up on his couch, cuddled in a cosy blanket and watch a funny movie. I giggle and sip from my wine when I feel his eyes on me.

“What?” I ask and raise an eyebrow but he shakes his head.

“Nothing”

“Then stop staring, it´s rude” I reply and he smirks but turns his head back to the TV.

“I like this,” he says after some time and I look confused at him. He gestures with his hand a vague movement into my direction and back to himself.

“Oh yeah, it´s fun” I agree.

“Is it awkward?” he seems to be a bit scared of my answer but I shake my head.

“Not at all, feels almost natural doesn’t it?” he nods and we smile at each other.

The weekend goes by way too fast and before I can even blink properly it is Sunday afternoon and I stand next to his car, waiting for Harry to bring me home. He forgot his phone and went to get it.

I enjoyed this weekend and I am a bit sad that it is already over. We had a great time and finally got a bit closer emotionally.

“Go it. Ready to go?” he asks smiling, as he comes down the steps and I sigh.

“Not really, I really enjoyed spending time with you outside of work” he beams and takes my bag, to put it in the trunk.

“Glad to hear that because I had a blast. Can´t wait to do this again sometime” I nod and get into the car. The ride home is mostly quiet and I am captured in my own thoughts when he pulls over in front of my house.

“Thank you so much, Harry. I feel like we grew a bit closer, which takes time for me but I am glad that we did this” he smiles widely and tugs a strand of my hair behind my ear. His finger brush lightly against my skin.

“Me too, I´ll see you next week in the hospital. What is your shift?” he asks and I smile because he always comes when I am there.

“Starting at 2 pm”

“Okay, can´t wait” I get out of the car and he hands me my bag, before he pulls me into a hug. I grab his shirt at the back and tug my nose in his shoulder-chest area to inhale his scent.

After a minute or so he lets go of me and smiles.

“Don’t want to draw attention on us, see you soon Y/N”

 The next month goes by and we hardly manage to meet outside of the hospital. Due to the illness of one of my colleagues, I have to work nearly every day and Harry told us, that he is going back to LA to finish his album. He will be gone for a few weeks and I can´t help it but feel sad. I can't get free time until Dr Sally is back. Dr Seymour and I have to manage the whole station and it´s I have a hard time.

The kids and Harrys goodbye was sad but he promised to come back. I am not good with goodbyes and didn’t really know what to say, so we just hugged and said our goodbyes. Sometimes we text a bit but he knows that I am very busy and when finally Dr Sally gets back, I relax and take a few days off.

During this time Harry and I managed to facetime a few times and at first, I am a bit awkward but he makes it normal by being himself and being worried. To be honest, I look like shit and I am tired as hell and so exhausted.

“I have some good news, I will be back in a few days,” he says and my heart skips a beat before pounding like crazy.

“When? Annas final bloodwork is in the lab and will be due in around three days” I ask excited and he grins at me.

“I wanted to surprise you all but I can´t keep a secret from you…I will be home tomorrow night” I clap my hands together and reply:

“That’s awesome, she will be so happy to see you”

“And you? Are you happy to see me?” his voice gets a bit deeper and I can feel the heat in my cheeks.

“Of course, Harry. I miss you”

“Good…because I miss you, too” we smile at each other and chat about his music and how his album work goes before I head to bed.

 Three days later I stand in front of the hospital and wait for Harry to arrive. It´s Wednesday and I have to be back at work on Friday but I promised Anna and her family to be there when the blood tests come back. I chose my red duffle coat and as I wait it starts to snow. I am freezing but instead of waiting inside, where everybody knows me, I keep standing outside.

I put on my hat and tug my hands deeper into my pockets. Where the hell is he? I look around and see a tall man with a beanie and a dark coat walking towards me. He wears warm boots and gloves. His green eyes are fixed on me and he smiles as he comes closer.

“Hello there, you are so bright” he laughs and pulls me into a hug. I giggle into his ear and feel his hot lips on my cheek.

“Hey, how are you? You look great and relaxed” I compliment him and he beams.

“Thank you, you look lovely as always. I like the coat, red suits you. Wait…is that make-up? Just for me?” he mocks me and I shake my head and roll my eyes at him. Of course, I tried to look my best.

“Oh shut up. Come on” I pull him with me, trying to get him to stop but he won´t.

“So tell me, why did you put make-up on? You look so different but still cute. I like it but I like you anyway” he asks again and again until we are in the elevator and I face him finally.

“There is no deeper meaning behind me putting make-up on. I just wanted to, so calm the fuck down”

“Hm. I hoped it was because of me” he mumbles and looks down to his feet.

“What would that change, H?” he smiles as the door opens and I immediately get a bit nervous. This is Annas bis day.

“Harryyyy” she squeals and flies into his arms. I laugh and hug her parents, knocking on the office door.

“Oh hey, you are here for Annas results aren´t you?” Phil asks and I nod. He smiles at me and kisses my cheek. He is always aa bit flirty with me and I kind of like it. He is just a bit older than me and we always liked each other.

“Yes, we are. How are you?” I ask him and he nods. He had an operation a few weeks back when he couldn’t work.

“Better, thanks for doing all those extra hours. I owe you one…maybe some dinner soon?” he asks and I smile widely.

“Sure, I´d like that” he returns the smile and prints the results before we head back to the others, his hand on the small of my back.

“So Anna, you excited? Oh, you must be Harry, I am Dr Phil Sally” he introduces himself and shakes Harry´s hand. I feel a bit uncomfortable when his eyes wander to me and how Phil handles me. I never took a piss out of it and I honestly never thought about it but now…I can see that he is a bit hurt, I think. I immediately step back from Phil and wrap my arm around Anna.

“Soooo…this looks great Anna. I think you made it and you are clean” he says and I put my hands in front of my face and start crying. Anna hugs me and I lift her up into my arms, we both are crying and I am so overwhelmed with joy. Of course, I know that she will have to go to checkups rhythmically and often the cancer strikes back later but this is great news. She can have a few carefree years and experience being a teenager.

“Thank you for everything,” her mom says and we all hug each other, with watery eyes. Phil leads them into the office to give further information and I wave goodbye to them.

“I´ll text you about dinner” he says not too loud and kisses my cheek before joining them in the office.

“You okay?” Harry asks and I nod, trying to rescue my make-up. I smile at him and he smirks.

“So you and him, huh?” he asks and I look confused at him.

Part VI

Taglist:

@wotamelonsugar @lanallaa @highladyofelfhame-remastered @lucky-worm @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @nibabyy @magnificentbonkfarmlover

Hey guys, I am so sorry for letting you down but my life has been a bit crazy the last weeks/months. I am very sorry for keeping you waiting...I really am. 

[biwenqing]

long for you

Wei Wuxian has often been accused of speaking without thinking. This time, he might be overthinking what just needs to come from the heart.

for fytheuntamed on tumblr's untamed spring fest day four prompt: bunnies

Teen | Words: 1568 | ao3

Wei Wuxian sat, looking at the blank paper in front of him. He wanted to fill it, spill onto it everything that was chasing itself around his mind. Maybe if he put the words down, he would be able to speak them without drowning.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up and wetted a brush. Wei Wuxian began only for no characters to reveal themselves. Instead, he began to carefully draw the little bunny nest he had found when he camped beside the road the day before. Three little babies, their eyes still mostly closed and ears so small, curled into a perfect circle of grass. The mother must have been in a hurry for Wei Wuxian to be able to spy them, the tangle of leaves that made up the roof not fully covering the babies.

Once he captured the image, Wei Wuxian wrote around the picture, describing what he had seen. How he had settled on the other side of the road with Lil Apple, and watched for the mother to come back, ready to chase off any fox or hawk that might prey on the nest. He had used some of the Lan meditation techniques to rest while he kept watch.

[That felt fitting, Lan Zhan. I knew that you would have done the same.] Wei Wuxian wrote as he reached the final space on the paper. [I often find you with me, even though you are far from my side. I imagine your reaction to all the people and things along my travels, hear your voice in my dreams. I miss you terribly.]

Signing his name, Wei Wuxian tried not to linger on the words as he waited for the ink to dry. It was only a fraction of what wanted to come pouring out. But there were things that were better said in person, he had to remember. He could only hope that Lan Wangji would understand. He folded it and took it to be sent out.

The woman who accepted the letter raised her brows at the address. “Gusu is only a few hours ride away,” she said but then quickly waved a hand. “Sorry, not my place to comment.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was more forced than normal. “I’m in town for a little bit. I will check back before I leave in case there is a response.”

The woman nodded. “As you say. Have a good day, young master.”

Returning to the inn, Wei Wuxian stopped to make sure Lil Apple was content in the stables. As content as she ever could be anyway. Her bad temper seemed to have gained her a priority spot among the horses and ponies. Wei Wuxian gave her the carrot he had brought and went to find his own dinner.

Wei Wuxian was able to shake off some of the odd melancholy that had been hanging on him like ill-fitting robes, after some wine and joining different tables to collect information from other travelers. Talking with his waiter as well got him the local gossip. There seemed to be some issues with an old well just outside of town, haunted by a spirit of a child who had fallen in long ago. It wasn’t pressing, only harassing those who came too close, so Wei Wuxian decided that he could leave it for the morning. Another unpaying job, but he didn’t mind. It was important to let that spirit rest.

The room he had paid for was small, unlike the lavish ones Lan Wangji had been able to afford when they traveled together. It was a nice break from sleeping rough, and Wei Wuxian was able to order an almost warm bath so he could wash some of the smell of donkey off himself. Letting his outer robes dry after he washed them, he dressed in just his red ones before climbing into bed.

It wasn’t late but the day’s travel had been long. Wei Wuxian fell asleep as soon as he pulled the covers over himself, leaving the window open on a summer night.

The sound of someone landing on the floor, the boards creaking, had Wei Wuxian startling out of bed sometime later. He reached for Chenqing where it rested next to the bed, turning to face the intruder.

Even when lit only by weak moonlight, Lan Wangji seemed to glow. It must have been a bit of a struggle to get through the window. Wei Wuxian blinked slowly trying to process this as his sleep-addled brain seemed to give up functioning by the sudden appearance of Lan Wangji, too much like the dream he had been startled from.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji apparently had no such issue gathering his thoughts. He strode across the room, hand gently wrapping around Wei Wuxian’s wrist.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathed, trying to read his face despite the deep shadows. It was too dark. “Are you angry at me?”

“If you were to pass by so close without coming to see me, yes,” Lan Wangji said, letting go and stepping back a bit. He waved his hand to close the window, and again to light the two little lamps in the room.

Wei Wuxian looked away and admitted, “I hadn’t decided.” He wanted to make sure he had the right words in the right order before he saw Lan Wangji. This was not the time for his rambling.

“Why the letter?” Lan Wangji asked, then seemed to notice that Wei Wuxian was only dressed in his under layer. His ears turned red, as they did when he was embarrassed, and he focused just on Wei Wuxian’s face. “Why say that you missed me but not come see me?”

Wei Wuxian tried to hold Lan Wangji’s eyes. With the light, he could see that there was a tension around his eyes, in the lines of his mouth. Wei Wuxian felt something inside him sink. “I have made you unhappy.” That was the opposite of what he always tried to do, despite what others may believe of his actions.

“Only in that I miss just as fiercely,” the words came out in a rush and seemed to surprise Lan Wangji as much as they did Wei Wuxian. He didn’t stop though. “Every day I wish you were at my side, or that I was at yours.”

“But your duties...” Wei Wuxian said even as he stepped closer, letting Chenqing rest on the bed once more. Lan Wangji not only let him into his personal space but reached to take his hand.

“Don’t make me happy as Wei Ying does,” Lan Wangji said, eyes searching Wei Wuxian’s face.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know what he would find there, but he knew what he wanted. Reaching up his free hand, he gently touched Lan Wangji’s cheek, trying to find the mirror to his own truth. Lan Wangji pressed closer, turning his head into Wei Wuxian’s hand until his fingers brushed the headband.

Wei Wuxian let out a shaky breath but didn’t pull away. He felt silly at the way tears gathered in his eyes, but there was no way he could contain all that he felt. “How can we have only been parted a month, and it hurts this badly?”

Lan Wangji didn’t have an answer, lifting Wei Wuxian’s other hand up and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His voice was rough when he said, “Come home with me Wei Ying. Come home until I am able to travel with you.”

“I will,” Wei Wuxian said, not needing to think it over anymore, not when Lan Wangj voiced what he wanted most in the world. But he had one thing left that worried him. “Your reputation-”

“Is strong and will not be harmed by me finally being happy.” Lan Wangji pressed another kiss to his hand, and it felt like fire being sent through Wei Wuxian’s veins.

Wei Wuxian moved his other hand to run it over Lan Wangji’s ribbon. Lan Wangji didn’t pull away, instead, he began to smile in his way. Wei Wuxian wanted to taste that proof that he could make Lan Wangji happy. “Lan Zhan?”

“Wei Ying?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Always.”

~*~

The innkeeper was clearly surprised the next morning when two people left the room he had rented to one, but he didn’t comment. Nor did he seem put out by Wei Wuxian saying he wouldn’t be staying another night, especially when Lan Wangji paid and left a large tip. Walking out of town with Lil Apple in tow, they aimed to stop by the haunted well before turning towards Gusu. So much was the same and yet to Wei Wuxian, it felt as if the world had shifted overnight.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

“Did the mother come back?” Lan Wangji asked, breaking their companionable silence.

“What?”

“The bunnies,” Lan Wangji looked over at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian found it was possible for him to smile even wider. Taking Lan Wangji’s hand, he tangled their fingers together. “She did. She fed them and then covered the nest properly.”

Lan Wangji nodded, seeming pleased.

“Lan Zhan, you really do have such a soft spot for bunnies.”

“Mn. And Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian laughed, leaning into Lan Wangji’s side. “It’s an honor to be placed so highly.”

“It is the bunnies who should be honored,” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Wuxian knew he was sharing in the laughter.

[iamfallinforeverything]

I’m sorry (Peter Parker Soulmate!AU)

So it’s been a while again.. Life is just kinda messy right now.  I’ve tried to write one of the requests @wwesarahjaneroszko made but I don’t really know if that’s what you wanted 😅 Also I’ve tried my best with this but Tumblr kept deleting it and I think it could be better. idk

Also I made this an soulmate!AU because I really wanted to try to write one. 

Fandom: Marvel (Tony Stark and Peter Parker)

Summery: Being Tony Starks daughter was... hard. Especially when your soulmate is trying to build a connection with you. 

Warnings: swearing, timeline is a little bit off (just Peters and readers age), shitty writing? also no angst this time hahah 

“Daddy?”, I said as I walked up to him. 

He was sitting on the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand while he was looking at something. As soon as he heard my voice he put the cup down and turned himself a little bit to look at me. 

“Yes little one?”, he answered. 

“What is this? Am I ill?”, I asked and tears pricked at my eyes. 

I pulled the sleeve of my shirt up and revealed my arm. I kept it hidden the past few days. Everywhere were black lines and dots. They itched and from all the scratching was my arm covered in red streaks. I couldn’t thing about anything from where they would be from other than some illness. And I didn’t wanted to be ill. 

My father got up and took my wrist in his hand and started to turn my arm. He let his thumb run over one of the marks before he looked at me and smiled sadly. 

“No my love, you’re not ill. You don’t have to worry about them.”, he said and together we walked to the couch and set down. 

“What are these then?”, I asked and looked at all the lines. 

“These are your soulmate marks. Your soulmate is drawing or writing on his skin and through your connection they appear on your skin as well. When he washes them of or when they start to fade away, they will disappear from your skin as well. But they won’t hurt you. They are a little bit itchy at the beginning but that will go away as well.”, he said and wrapped his arm around my shoulders while he was speaking. 

“But I don’t want a soulmate. I don’t need one.”, I pouted and crossed my arms in front of my chest. 

“Everyone has a soulmate my love.”, he laughed and stroked my head.

“Was Mommy your soulmate?”, I asked him and avoided his gaze. She was a hard topic, for the both of us. 

“No. We loved eathother, but we weren’t soulmates.”, he answered and stroked my head again. 

“Did... did mommy found her soulmate?”, I asked and started to play with my fingers. 

“Yes little one, she did.” 

“Did she left because of him?” 

“You’re so smart.”, he said and gave me a little kiss on the top of head. “But yes, she left because of her soulmate.” 

“Do you have a soulmate Daddy?”, I asked and looked at his arms. There weren’t any marks. 

“Everyone has one, I told you.”, he answered. 

I shifted a little bit so I could look at his face. 

“Where is she?” 

“I haven’t found her yet.”, he shrugged. 

“Why?”

“I had your mother. I didn’t needed her and I didn’t wanted her because when I was younger I thought that soulmates were stupid. I wanted to be independet and I wanted to choose myself with who I spend the rest of my life with. But that was stupid. Soulmates are here for a reason and I regret it that I didn’t searched for her.”, he answered and put a strand of my hair behind my ear. 

“You can look for her now Daddy.”

“It’s not that easy little one.”, he smiled sadly.

“Can I draw her something Daddy?”, I asked and looked at him with my puppy eyes. He never says no when I looked at him like that. 

“Of course you can little one. I’ll get you a pen.”, he laughed. 

He got up to get one of the pens that laid on the kitchen isle. As he sat back down he gave it to me and rolled his sleeve a little bit more up so I had more room to draw. 

“But I don’t know if she’s going to respond to your drawing. It’s been a while since we communicated.”, he said. 

“That dosen’t matter. It’s just a reminder that you’re still here and that we will find her.”, I smiled and he laughed again. 

“You’re way to smart for you’re age Y/N.” 

I’ve started with a little butterfly. After that I drew a flower and an apple tree right next to it. Underneath it I drew my father and myself. He hold my hand and we were both smiling widely. 

“Now she knows that we have an apple tree with flowers next to it. And that butterflys are always there. And we’re happily waiting for her.”, I said as I proudly looked at my work. 

“It’s beautiful little one. You did a great job.”, my father answered and looked at my drawing. 

“Thank you.”, I answered and started to draw a little butterfly on my own wrist. 

“Do you think he will see it?”, I asked and pointed to the butterfly that I just drew. 

“He will.”, he answered and gave me a kiss on my cheek. 

I laughed and rolled my sleeves back down. My father did the same and then he got up and held his hand out to me. 

“Come on little one, what do you want to eat?”, he asked and together we walked back to the kitchen. 

~~

Over the years the random lines and dots became little drawings and words. But I didn’t knew much about my soulmate. All I knew was that his name was Peter and that he was almost a year older than me. 

And he tried to get to know me. He really did but he came at a time were my life was just chaos. My father was captured by terrorist and noone knew if he was coming back alive. And after his return I’ve stayed at his side to make sure that he was alright, like he did for me all this years. I’ve stood at his side as he announced that he was Ironman. I’ve stood at his side as he decided to change some things at Stark Industries and I’ve stood at his side as he faught against his long term partner. He had always been right next to my side and now it was simply my time to stand next to his. 

And getting my soulmate to know was simply too much to handle at that time. I saw his questions and his little drawings, but often I simply hadn’t a pen with  me or time to scribble an answer. And on day he just stopped trying and I didn’t made an effort to change that. My father was my number one priority and everything else didn’t mattered.  

Also how was I supposed to explain that? Sorry I couldn’t write back because my Dad is Ironman and it’s a shit ton of work? No. Who would believe that? 

~~

Right now we were sitting in one of the conference rooms and listened to Thaddeus Ross. He was a dick, I could see it the moment he walked in.  And his Sokovia Accords weren’t really well thought out. There were still important questions without an answer, but my father didn’t cared. All he saw was the danger he and all the other Avengers radiated. He searched for an solution for all the guilt he was feeling and these accords where the right thing. So of course he would say yes. Of course he would say it’s a good idea without thinking twice about it. Maybe I should talk with him once more when we were alone. This didn’t seemed like a good idea. Something was strange about Mr. Ross and I didn’t liked what he was implying. The Avengers weren’t dangours. They were still learning how to function as a team and how they could use all of their abilitys. 

These accords weren’t the right thing to do. They made the Avengers to puppets of the goverment who would use them as they were pleased and that wasn’t a good solution. Eventhough my father thought it was the only one.

I couldn’t find the right moment to talk with him and later on everyone was sitting in the common room. They were already talking about the accords and I took a seat next to Nat. 

Dad and Steve were already having a pretty harsh argument and I just watched them. Until my father pulled this picture up.

“Yes, he died Dad. It’s tragic and his death was unnesessary, but it happens. How many lost their life in an unnesessary war? How many loose their life because some asshole decided to see what it’s like to kill someone? It happens Dad and you can take his death and the deaths from all of these other people to learn from it. To be better the next time, to do better next time. Because if you sign this contract you’re going be nothing but a puppet to the goverment who will use you for all their bullshit. Who will keep you looked in here and take all your things that you’ve worked so hard on. They will take your freedom and your own will. They will take you Dad and I don’t want that for you. You’ve done so much for all of us and it shouldn’t end like this. You deserve better.”, I said and looked him in the eyes. 

And for a moment I thought I would have changed his mind. For a moment I saw this agreement in his eyes but it vanished again and he started to look angry. 

“Are you really on their side?”, he asked and pointed to Steve and Sam. 

“I’m on nobodys side Dad. I’m not an Avenger. I’m your daughter who has to live with your choice as well and I don’t want that you make the wrong one.”

“You’re right Y/N, you are my daughter and I make the decisions. It’s my job and not yours. These accords are the only option to stop us from going on another killing spree. We need someone who will take a look over everthing from a different perspectiv. We can’t decided such things by ourself.” 

“And who says you have to? You can talk with them, make a deal with them, another accord that won’t turn you into a fucking puppet!” 

“Watch what you say young lady. I am still your father and not some friend from school. Be careful with what you say.”, he warned me and he looked so angry. 

It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this angry. 

“Fine. I just don’t want you to make a mistake that you’ll regret. I just don’t want to see you suffering again but if you want that, than go ahead, sign it and you’ll see what it’ll brings you. Because I can tell you from the look on Steves face that you’re going to loose him, as an ally and as a friend.”, I said and looked at both of them. 

Steves gaze dropped to the floor and it was the first time in my life that I experienced my father speechless.

“Just think about it Dad. It’s not the right thing to do.”, I said and decided it was the best thing to leave. 

As I said, I wasn’t an Avengers I wasn’t the one to make the final decision. I wouldn’t be as affected as them. 

Later that day I was laying in my bed with a pen in my hand. I really needed someone right now and I had noone. Everyone wanted to be my friend because of my last name that was Stark and not because of me. I was alone on this planet. But I knew there was this special someone that was made just for me and I fucked that up as well. I ignored him because I was in so much pain and stress that I didn’t wanted him in my life right then and there. And now I wanted him more than ever in my life. Someone who I could talk to and someone who I could go to when I didn’t wanted to be home. But did he still want me in his life? I must have hurt him with my ignorance. It was worth shot, right? 

So I draw a little spider right on wrist with a little speech buble that said I’m sorry.

~~

Some time flew by and I still hadn’t got an answer from my soulmate. I repainted the little spider over and over again. I wanted an answer. I wanted to sort things out. I needed him in my life more than ever and I wouldn’t give up on him. But.. maybe he had already given up on me? He gave me same silent treatment I gave him all that time ago. Maybe he didn’t wanted me anymore? Maybe I wouldn’t fit into his life after all? Maybe I have lost him before I even met him.  But I wouldn’t give up! I wanted him in my life. I wanted to make it up to him and I was at least as stubborn as my father and my soulmate was going to see that now. I wouldn’t give up on us. I would find him and would talk to him, even if that meant to search for someone who had a little talking spider on their wrist. 

At the moment I was waiting for the arrival of spiderman. My father wanted to give him the suit back he made for him and ask him to be a member of the avengers.

Pepper had organized a press conference for the announcement that Spiderman was officially a member of the Avengers. While Pepper was waiting inside the press room with all the reporters and journalists, was father outside and waited for Spiderman. I stood at the window and looked down to see when Happy would arrive with him.

My father said that Spiderman was probably somewhere my age and I was more than courise to see someone this young with special abilitys. Also it would be nice to have someone to hang around with in my age. Don’t get me wrong I loved all of the avengers, they were my family, but I was by far the youngest and I just wanted to have someone that was my age. And with Spiderman I would have that. 

So I got pretty excited when I saw Happys car. Unfortunatly he parked at a spot where I couldn’t see them. 

“They are here.”, I said quietly to myself and walked to the door where the press conference should happen. 

Between the doors were the new Spiderman Ironsuit. Because Spiderman would need it to meet the reporters. Patiently I waited for my father and Spiderman. I could see them before I could I hear them and of course my father needed his dramatic appearance so they walked pretty slowly. 

I rolled my eyes and focused on the boy next to him. He was handsome, I had to admit that and his nervousness around my father made me smile. He would be good company, I knew that already. 

Of course my father just kept talking to him about all that becoming an Avengers stuff and just ignored me. I rolled with my eyes again and just waited patiently for them to finish with their conversation. That was my punishmet for my outbrust over the accords. Being ignored. But I was fine with that because at the end of the day my father would still come to me to tell me about the newest stuff that happend. 

And the best part was when Spiderman turned down the oppertunity to be an avengers. When he turned down to live with us in the Tower and when he chose to be the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. My father accepted his dicision, of course he did. He would never force someone to be a part of something he didn’t wanted to be. 

But right as Spiderman was about to leave I made sure he would know who I was. 

“Go wait in the car. I’ll bring you home, just need a minute.”, Happy said and I smiled. My turn. 

“I can bring you down. It’ll can get a little bit confusing around here.”, I said and walked up to him. 

Spiderman seemed to be even more nervous when I approached him which made him even cuter. 

“Yeah.. that.. that would be nice. I’m Peter.”, he said and smiled at me. 

“Nice to meet you Peter. I’m Y/N.”, I answered and held my hand out for him to shake. 

He looked down at my hand and immediatly his smile froze. He took my hand into his and turned it around. My sleeve had slipped a little up and revealed the little spider. Instandly I turned red and pulled my hand back to pull my sleeve down again. He certainly had to think I was some crazy fan through the little spider. After all, he was spiderman. I looked at my feet in embaresstment. What a stupid idea to draw a little spider. I could have used everything else. Why a spider? 

But Peter said nothing. Instead he pulled his own sleeve up to reveal the same little spider. It was the same spider with the same speech buble that said I’m sorry. I looked at him shocked. He was my soulmate? Spiderman was my soulmate? The fucking universe was kidding with me. Ironman as father and Spiderman as soulmate? How as I supposed to live a quiet life with these two at my side. But on the other side I couldn’t be happier. He would knew exactly what I meant when I would say that all of this superhero stuff would get on my nerves. Because he was one. Because he surely had experienced the same feelings about that. 

And the longer I thought about it the more I liked the idea of spiderman being my soulmate. 

“What just happend?”, my father said and kicked me back into reality. 

“I’ve found my soulmate.”, I smiled and looked at him. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”, he said and rolled with his eyes. But right after that he started to smile. I knew that he would be happy for me. 

“It never gets boring Dad.”, I laughed and when I looked back at Peter his eyes got a little bit bigger. 

“D-Dad?”, he said insecure. 

“Yeah. He’s my dad.”, I answered and he swallowed heavily. 

“Don’t worry.  I’ll make sure he’s nice to you, right Dad?”, I said and looked at my Dad. 

“I’m always nice. I don’t know what you mean little one.”, he answered and put his hands up in a defensiv position. 

“I’ll remind you on that Dad. Come on Peter, I’ll bring you back down.”, I said and started to walk the corridor down. 

Peter mumeled a quick goodbye and then I could hear how he walked a little bit faster to catch up with me. 

“That was a test from your father, wasn’t it?”, Peter asked and look at me. 

“Of course.”, I said and laughed. 

Maybe it was for the better when Peter thought that it was really a test. He didn’t needed to be an avenger just yet. 

We walked a little in silence. I didn’t knew what to say. There were clearly some thinks that we should talk about but now wasn’t the right time. We needed to get to know eachother. 

“Hey-y Y/N?”, Peter said as we left the buliding. 

“Yeah?”, I asked back and looked at him. 

“Can I.. Could I have your number? So we can stay in touch?”, Peter asked nervously and scratched his neck. 

His sleeve slipped up a little while he was doing it and I could see the little spider again. 

“Of course.”, I answered and smiled at him. 

He pulled his phone out and gave it to me. I wrote my number down and gave it back to him. 

“Thank you.”, he said and I just smiled. 

“Friday, could you open Happys car for me please?”, I asked her. 

“Of course Y/N.”, she answered and I could hear how she unlocked the car. 

“Thanks Friday.”, I said and opened the door for Peter. 

He sat inside the car and I looked at him through the open door. 

“I hope I’ll hear from you soon.”, I smiled. 

“Sooner than you expect.”, he answered and smiled back at me. 

“I’ll count on that Spiderman.”, I laughed and closed the door. 

I walked the stairs back up and right as I opened the door my buzzed at I took it out of my pocket. 

I’m sorry as well., stood on my screen from an unknown number. 

It’s fine. I think we’re even., I answered and entered the building. 

~~

Right now I was laying in my bed and held phone up so I could see the face of my boyfriend. 

“I should probably go to bed, but I really don’t want to.”, he said and smiled widely. 

“You really should. Who knows when you need to get up because someone needs the friendly neighbourhood spiderman?”, I teased. 

He rolled with his eyes and laughed. 

“I love you Y/N.”, he said and my heart started to raise. 

“I love you too Peter.”, I answered and smiled at him. 

“And now the two of you can go to bed!”, I could hear his aunt scream from the back which made me laugh. 

“Goodnight.”, I chuckled. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”, he answered and we ended the phone call. 

I couldn’t be happier then right now. 

[statistical-improbabilities]

OCtober Day 7: Cliff

Thanks to @oc-growth-and-development!

Laena was intended to be just a backstory character for my oc Mya, an assassin currently employed on a pirate ship. In canon, she’s dead by now, but every so often I still like to flesh out her story. It’s not a happy one, though. (CW: kidnapping.)

To set the mood, listen to Fear by Sleeping at Last.

They’d been assigned to the midnight patrol again, though it was well past midnight by then. Mya was wearing multiple coats, one of which was Laena’s and far too big for her, yet she was still shivering. Laena stood close to her for warmth, though she was largely unbothered by the cold or wind or snow. Mya had pointed that out jealously.

“How come you’re not shivering?”

Laena just squeezed Mya’s hand, rubbed it between her own to put more feeling in the younger girl’s fingertips. “I grew up here. I’m familiar with this.”

“Hmph.” Mya was quiet for a little while, but another thought occurred to her soon enough. “Wait. Here, meaning here here? With the League? Or just in the mountains?”

“Just in the mountains,” she repeated quietly, lifting her gaze slightly. The snow was swirling so violently that she couldn’t make out most of the craggy peaks, but the tallest and nearest few weren’t completely hidden. “But I’ve been here most of my life, yes. Since I was six.”

“Damn.” Mya swore, softly and appreciatively. It was a strange sequence from a twelve-year-old. “How’d you end up here so little? They didn’t find me until I was eight.”

Laena fell silent, listening as the wind howled around them. It was beginning to pick up. Sleet like shards of ice pelted her bare cheeks, and beside her, Mya pulled her hood nearly down to her nose. An errant curl fell out from behind Laena’s ear, and she raised a gloved hand to replace it, then extended that hand to Mya.

“Come with me. We’ll be back by morning.”

~

They hadn’t taken her in the dead of night. The sun was shining the way it did at high noon, except it was already hours past. Days were much longer under summer’s warmth, and Laena relished every moment of sunlight she could get.

Those moments had become fewer and farther between as her mother had fallen ill. Not the plague, the village healer had said, or at least not the most recent one that had swept over the lowlands. But if it wasn’t the plague, he didn’t have anything to treat it with, and her brother had signed up to defend the village with the other young men, so Laena had been relegated to care for her mother, though she didn’t quite know how.

She did what she could. She knew where to find fresh snowmelt for the cloths that went on her forehead and behind her neck, and she learned how to climb onto a chair to ladle some soup into a bowl when her mother could stomach a small meal, and she knew when to pull the curtain over the door to prevent an early ice wind from entering their home. Sometimes her brother came home with news from the healer about some new cure the lowlanders were trying, for other diseases that weren’t quite the plague but fell over the villages in a very plague-like manner. None of the details mattered to Laena, only the desperation that came as her mother failed to get better.

When her mother was asleep, she snuck out into the village to listen to the adults talk. They spoke of mysterious illnesses that weren’t illnesses at all but disappearances into the night, and men hiding in the woods dressed in snow leopards’ skins with knives sharper than teeth, and miraculous medicines that would cure any ailment. One particular rumor captured Laena’s attention, and she ran to find her brother when she heard. He jumped when she snuck up behind him, like he did every time. If Laena had been less concerned about things, she might have poked fun at him for it, especially since he was guarding the village with the other young men, but as she was worried about their mother, she did not.

“The men in town, they were talking about the healer—they didn’t know I was listening—they say he’s talking to a mysterious man, one who has the riches to buy the entire village and the power to kill us all!”

“Be quiet, Laena,” he snapped at her, taking on the air of superiority and impatience that only older brothers could. “You probably heard wrong, and you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping again. What if Mother woke up and you weren’t there?”

“She’s asleep, I checked,” she protested, but there was hardly any force left in it. “I only thought… if this man is visiting our village, and if he’s really that rich—he could find a cure.”

His face didn’t change, but he puffed out his chest a little in a way that made Laena want to kick him. She was tall enough to reach the best place for it, too. “Then I will find him and talk to him, and you will go back home and do what you’re supposed to do.” All her previous energy vanished, Laena only nodded, rounding her shoulders in as she turned away and began the long trudge back home.

 Her brother returned later than usual that night looking rather fearful, but more importantly, looking very annoyed. “You were wrong. There’s no rich and mysterious man with a cure for Mother. I bet you made it all up.”

“I didn’t! I heard it, I really did!”

“Then why did I look all throughout the village and not see anyone new?”

Laena quieted at that, and stared down at her bowl of soup. Their mother had only woken for a brief meal, and had fallen asleep again before Laena had finished. Now she wasn’t hungry anymore, and she pushed her bowl over to her brother for him to finish off. “Maybe I’ll find him,” she said quietly, hardly a whisper. “I’ll find him on my own, without your help.”

“I hope you don’t,” said her brother, equally quietly. He didn’t meet her eyes, but Laena had already looked away.

The next day, she made sure to rise with the sun, and crawled out a window so she wouldn’t disturb her brother. He would be furious to find her gone, as that meant he would have to stay with their mother for the day until she returned, but it had never ended badly before. He knew she always came back with her head down at the end of the day.

But the sun was shining, and she was determined to find that mysterious man.

Their village was too small to support a stranger, even for a night, so Laena took to the surrounding woods. The ground was rocky and full of mud from the melted snow that trickled down from the peaks of the mountains, and it took a considerable effort to make any progress. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to give up, so she searched for many hours, often getting herself lost and then found in the process as she regained her bearings, until she found herself carefully tiptoeing along the edge of a narrow cliff that opened onto a verdant valley. 

There on the other side was a fortress that her entire village could have fit inside. People that looked smaller than toothpicks stood at attention all around the structure, and even on the roof. One, seemingly on a whim, shot a passing bird from out of the sky with expert aim. Laena gasped, and a gloved hand covered her mouth.

She couldn’t draw in a breath, not even to scream, with the hand restricting her airways. The hand’s owner laughed softly. His voice was a low croon that had it not sounded so cruel, might have sung a lullaby for peaceful sleep on the nights she tossed and turned with nightmares.

“You’re a pretty little thing,” his voice said, and Laena tried to push his hand away, but he only held her tighter. “Spirited, too. Perhaps more than I’d like, but beggars can’t be choosers.” That horrible laugh again. “Sick mother, headstrong brother, and nowhere to go for you, hm? No one has any idea where you are, or when you might return. No one gives a shit.”

Her eyes went wide at the curse, one even her brother tried not to use around her. She tried to bite down on his hand, but the glove was there for a reason. Laena squeezed her eyes shut. “Please let me go,” she whimpered against his hand, and though she couldn’t see it, she could feel him begin to smile in a way that was even more horrible than his laugh.

“Oh, I certainly could… but now that you know I was here, I’m afraid I can’t.” Faster than she could react, he slipped a length of fabric over her eyes and another into her mouth so she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what secrets he spoke of. The only thing she was aware of was the way he ever so carefully flicked her tears off of her cheeks, one by one, and so wasn’t ready for when the back of his hand struck the side of her face.

Laena fell to her knees, tears flowing faster, but only managed to crawl a few feet before he latched onto her wrist and pulled her upright again. “You’ll be coming with me,” he promised with a sneer. “And if you think me a monster, think again. Your mother will be healed by month’s end, and your brother will be thanking me for it. I knew what medicine you needed, and my price was fair, you see. I only needed another initiate. But don’t worry. He and your mother will forget about you soon enough.”

He dragged her away from the cliffside, and unable to fight back, she went quietly with him.

~

Atop the jagged cliff, with snow blowing sideways and fading into a fog, Laena couldn’t see the fortress that was the southern Assassins’ League base, but she knew it was there. Mya’s gaze fixated on the same point, and hesitantly, she pulled Laena into an embrace. Laena wrapped one arm around Mya’s shoulders, holding her close as the younger girl buried her frozen face into her side.

She’d wanted to tell the real story, the one that Roberts had most certainly laughed about with the more senior assassins after he’d brought her to the League and left her to fend for herself amid the much older trainees, but when she’d opened her mouth, nothing had come out. She wasn’t ready, not even for Mya.

So she’d abridged the truth, said she’d grown up in a village that had been buried by an avalanche in recent years, and that the cliff they stood atop was where she’d been found and brought in for training. It wasn’t a lie, not really. Only a single piece of a much more extensive truth, one that she resolved to keep locked deep inside like she did with all other truths.

The sun’s rays peeked over the horizon at last, and Laena looked away. “Let’s go back,” she whispered to Mya. She stared at the cliff’s edge for a moment longer, but like every other time, she backed quietly away.

[jade4813]

Like Moths to a Flame, Chapter 3

Fandom: North and South

Title: Like Moths to a Flame

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: John/Margaret

Synopsis: “I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over.“ Margaret decides to confront John about his unjust judgment of her character, but the two have always been drawn to each other, and things quickly get out of hand. In the aftermath, she agrees to marry him to satisfy propriety, but she cannot forget how ready he was to believe the worst of her. Can love survive without trust, or will the two find a way to work through the misunderstandings that have plagued their relationship from the start?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“Oh, Bessie. How I wish you were here,” Margaret whispered into the wind as she stepped off her usual path through the graveyard and lowered herself onto the sparse grass that sprouted between the headstones. Hailing from such different backgrounds, theirs had been an unlikely friendship in the beginning, but the two women had shared genuine affection in the end. It still hurt to remember Bessie’s pale face and the wheezing cough that had eventually carried her away, and she mourned her friend’s absence every bit as much as she longed for the other woman’s counsel.

Bessie had been her first – and, for a time, only – true friend in this godforsaken place, and in her absence, Margaret had nobody to confide in, nobody with whom to share her secrets, such as they were. Closing her eyes, she pretended her friend was sitting by her side, casting aside the illness that had taken her as she reveled in the brisk afternoon air. “I’ve made such a mess of things with John.”

“Oh, John, is it?” In her imagination, the wind that whipped around her carried a saucy laugh and the voice that had once been so dear to her.

“It isn’t like that!” she protested weakly. It wasn’t hard to picture Bessie’s disbelieving expression, and she sighed. “Although I have behaved shamefully. Even if you were here, I doubt you would ever believe it.”

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about. I told you before, you could do a lot worse than John Thornton.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I may have kissed him, but I have no designs on Mr Thornton. He saw me with Fred and misunderstood, and now he will never forgive me. Sometimes I wish I could tell him the truth, but—” She broke off, giving her head another shake. “No. He once claimed to love me, but he was all too eager to think the worst of me. I could never love a man who had so little faith in me. In fact, I think I might hate him for it.”

Her voice lacked conviction, and the Bessie that lived in her memory and her imagination laughed once more. “Are you sure about that? I don’t know how things are done in the South, but up here in the North, we don’t often go around kissing men we hate.”

“I do,” Margaret protested weakly, the wind carrying away her words and the memory of her friend’s laughter. “I hate him.” She wanted to hate him, at least. If she hated him, maybe the reminder of his poor opinion of her wouldn’t hurt so much.

John was returning from the shops the next time he saw her. She didn’t notice him at first, and he took advantage of the opportunity her ignorance afforded him to soak her in. As he watched, a breeze swept down the street, blowing her hair into her face, and she brushed her hair off her cheek with one graceful finger.

He had not seen her since their encounter in the hall, when his tongue had gotten the better of  him. How he’d wished he could take back those words the moment they’d left his mouth, but of course that was not within his power. Though he regretted that his honesty had caused her pain, he consoled himself with the thought that it had been for the best. Passion and desire for her had overcome reason. Her kisses may have been freely given, but he had acted disgracefully in accepting them. Had they been caught, honor would have demanded that he offer for her hand, and the expectations of society would have required her to accept. In time, when her ardor had cooled, she would have come to resent being trapped into marriage with a man who was so beneath her, a man whose affection had so offended her, and that resentment would eventually turn to hate.

It was for the best, in the end, that he drove her away. Knowing her distaste for him didn’t stop his body’s reaction to her, however. It never had. She was so beautiful, it took his breath away. The sight of her made him forget himself, and he could have stared at her for hours, for all the world looking like a lovesick fool, were it not for the soft murmur of his name in his ear. Recollecting himself, he drew his attention back to the woman on his arm, silently chiding himself for his incivility when he saw that she had noticed his distraction. Ann Latimer was everything he should desire in a partner. She was young, beautiful, accomplished, and she understood the worth of Milton and its people. Beyond that, his mother had not been subtle in attempting to promote the match, hoping an attachment would grow over time that would put all thoughts of Margaret Hale from his mind.

For the sake of her pleasure, he didn’t tell her that her hopes were in vain. He admired Miss Latimer and enjoyed her company, but not even her soothing presence could drive Margaret from his mind. Or his heart. Miss Latimer's years of schooling in Switzerland had polished her manners and driven away the forthright honesty that was innate to people from the North. Her conversation was always agreeable because of her tendency to profess indifferent agreement with any opinion put forth to her. He did not fault her for this inclination – she only behaved as any proper young lady in Society might do. But when she demurred to his opinion, he missed the spark in Margaret’s eyes that flared with her challenge.

His companion soothed once more by his attention, he lifted his head and glanced in the direction where he had last seen Margaret. Just at that moment, she turned to face him, and their eyes met. A small smile curved the lush bow of her mouth until her gaze drifted to the hand resting daintily on his arm, and then she turned away from him, hiding her face from his view.

Staring at the soft tendrils of hair that curved at the nape of her neck, he nearly wondered if the sight of another woman on his arm had caused her pain. That was not his intent, of course, but he would be lying if he pretended that he didn’t wish he had the same impact on her that she had on him. But no, it had undoubtedly not been jealousy that had flickered across her countenance before she turned away. She would no more be jealous over him than she would ever come to love him. Even now, with her reputation tarnished, she was far above the likes of him.

In a moment, they would draw near to where she was standing, and courtesy would dictate that they acknowledge each other before returning on their way. Miss Latimer's hand tightened slightly on his arm as they drew to a halt, but he could find no fault in her manners as she and Margaret exchanged polite greetings. For his part, John attempted to do the same, but the words felt thick in his throat, and his tone skirted the line of civility. He longed to look into her eyes once more, but her gaze remained lowered until courtesy had been satisfied and they each carried on their way.

Back at the mill, John greeted his mother with a short nod as he entered the room with Miss Latimer still on his arm. She was clearly pleased to see the two of them together, and for her sake, he wished he could tame his unruly heart. Miss Latimer left his side to join Fanny in chatter and idle gossip, and he let the sound of their voices wash over him as he took refuge behind his newspaper. Though he pretended to read, he didn’t process a single word, too preoccupied with thoughts of her. For his mother’s sake, he would try to fall for Miss Latimer's charms, but he suspected it would take far more than gentle manners and a pretty smile to extricate a certain outspoken Southerner from his heart.

“I must apologize, but my father has been temporarily delayed. I’m sure he’ll return home soon, if you would care to wait.” Margaret’s voice was cool and polite, but her gaze remained fixed straight ahead as she broke the news.

“I can return at a later time,” he offered, but she shook her head.

“No, I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I know he was looking forward to your appointment.”

Divesting himself of his hat, coat, and gloves, John offered her a slight nod, acquiescing to her request. He followed her in silence up the stairs and into her father’s sitting room, where they both tried and failed to pretend as though nothing amiss had ever passed between them. She still refused to look at him, even as he found himself unable to look away from her. Finally, when he could take it no longer, he began, “Margaret—"

“Mr Thornton,” she interjected, gently rebuking him for his familiarity. “I apologize that I have not yet offered you any tea. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go—”

“To hell with the tea,” he snapped, his temper momentarily getting the best of him. She had moved to brush past him, heading for the door, but he reached out and captured her wrist in a firm grip. “We need to talk about what happened between us the last time I was here.”

A muscle in her throat flexed as she swallowed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

He lifted his eyebrows at her in feigned surprise. “First I kissed you, then you kissed me, and you don’t think we need to talk about it?” When she just shook her head, his anger grew. “Why did you come to me that night, Margaret? Was it to see if my passion for you was truly dead? Or had you been abandoned by your other lover and were in search of a new protector?”

When her head whipped around to face him, he saw her cheeks were flushed and her eyes brightened with anger. “No!” she cried. “I told you that what you saw…it wasn’t what you think! I have no other lover!”

Stepping toward her, he demanded once more, “Then why did you come?”

“I don’t know!” she cried in return. “Because I was angry that you didn’t believe in me! Because I wanted you to understand! Because—” her voice suddenly faltering, she admitted in an undertone, “because I’m drawn to you. I cannot explain it, and I have tried to fight it. But it is no use.”

With a twist of her arm, she pulled her wrist out of his grip, but to his surprise, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she lifted her hand to his face, cupping her cheek in his palm. “I’m drawn to you,” she said again. “I cannot stop thinking about you or wishing—”

His heart ached when she trailed off, and he was afraid she could see the love he still carried for her in his eyes as he asked softly, “What do you want from me?”

Her body swayed toward him, and he thought she might draw him down for a kiss. Instead, she dropped her hand to her side and shifted away. “Nothing. I want nothing from you. I should go prepare the tea.”

His heart cracked when she moved toward the doorway, and he called for her before she could leave. At the sound of her name, she hesitated, her back to him, and then turned slowly to face him.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded with her, his voice soft and sad. “Please. Stay.”

Margaret knew what he was asking of her. She could perhaps have claimed ignorance of the danger that lay in store for her, the night she’d journeyed across town to confront him in his office. She might even be able to plead innocence in their previous encounter in the downstairs hallway of her home. But she could claim neither now. Her father was delayed, and Dixon was out on an errand, leaving her and John alone. If she stayed, she knew what it would mean.

Closing her eyes, she recalled her earlier one-sided conversation with Bessie’s memory, and all the reasons that she knew she should turn around and walk away. Certainly for the sake of her reputation, she knew she should leave. But it was as she had said. She was drawn to him. She could no more leave him now than she could fly.

Swallowing heavily, she turned her back on propriety and all of the lessons that had been drilled into her head from the time she was a child and took one step toward him. Two. Her fall from respectability was almost worth it, she realized, when she saw the smile that crossed his face and softened his features.

His eyes were filled with wonder as she stepped up to him, and he stroked the back of one finger down her cheek as though to reassure himself that she was truly there. Then he bowed his head and captured her mouth in a kiss.

John had counseled himself to exercise caution and avoid doing anything rash, but his better intentions fled at the touch of her lips against his. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her off her feet, spinning her toward the nearby table. It was hardly the ideal situation, but he’d dreamed about picking up where they had left off from the moment he’d backed away from her in his office. Now, with her in his arms, his entire world had shrunk to fit into this tiny room, this moment, and the need to feel the warmth of her skin under his hands.

Margaret – bless her – didn’t protest as he perched her on the edge of the table, which rocked dangerously but miraculously held under the unexpected weight. Her legs fell open as he continued to kiss her, skirts bunching when he stepped between her thighs.

Their labored breaths carried through the quiet room, and John longed to tell her about the feelings he still carried in his heart, but he knew it would be foolhardy to do so. She had spoken to him of desire but not of love, and he suspected that reminding her of his unwanted devotion would only succeed in pushing her away.

If he could not tell her of his love, he would show her, he decided as her hands skittered across his chest, pushing the jacket back from his shoulders and down his arms. “Please, John. I want – I want to touch you,” she confessed, making a grab for his cravat. It took a few seconds – and his assistance – but they finally got it untied, and then she tore the length of fabric from around his neck and tossed it aside. The top of his shirt gaped open, and she leaned in, pressing her mouth against the pulse that raced just below the skin.

With a moan of pleasure, John slid his hands under her skirts and caressed her legs. Wrapping his hands around her calves, he lifted them, showing her how to anchor them over his hips. She locked her ankles behind him and clutched onto the fine fabric of his shirt as his fingers slid along her inner thighs. When he stroked her outer folds, teasing her, she gasped, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

Pulling back slightly, he let his eyes sweep over her face as he stroked her, helping her grow accustomed to his touch. For the rest of his life, he wanted to remember this moment and the way that Margaret looked with her eyes wide and bright and her face flushed with desire.

“J-John?” she breathed as he slid one finger inside of her. “I-I don’t – are you sure—”

“Shh,” he whispered, ducking his head to kiss her once more. “It’s all right, love. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

The endearment had fallen from his lips before he’d even realized it had formed in his mouth, but she didn’t seem to have noticed. With his thumb, he located her tiny nub and teased it as he skid a second finger inside of her. His own body was hard and throbbing, but he tried to ignore it as he focused his attention on her pleasure.

This was not the way he had imagined making love to her for the first time. In his fantasies, their lovemaking had been sanctified by God and consecrated in the marital bed. Such dreams were not to be, however, and if he could not love her as his wife, he would at least attempt to give her no cause to regret giving herself over to him.

He felt her legs start to quiver, her hand shaking against the nape of his neck as she crushed her lips to his, and he knew that she was about to find her release. Nipping her lower lip with his teeth, he reveled in the tiny moans coming from deep in her throat every time his fingers thrust inside her. Then her lips parted, her breath caught, and her thighs wrapped around his hips as she became undone.

When she collapsed against him, he stilled but did not pull away. With one hand still inside her, he retrieved the other from beneath her skirts and stroked it soothingly along the curve of her spine until she had gathered her wits.

Finally, she lifted off his chest and tilted her head back to look him in the eye, and he pressed a kiss against her temple. Her face was still flushed with passion, and John closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He could not in good conscience continue to overstep the bounds of propriety, and she deserved better than the treatment she was receiving at his hands. What had he been thinking, to molest her like this, in her father’s own sitting room? He may not be a “proper” gentleman – indeed, like most Northerners, he could rarely been accused of being gentle at all – but neither was he a rutting animal, whatever Margaret might think of him.

Unable to meet her eyes, he dropped his gaze as he gently slid his hand from between her thighs. But before he could step back, out of her embrace, Margaret tightened the grip of her legs around his hips and shook her head. “No,” she breathed before repeating back to him the words he had spoken to her earlier. “Stay here. With me.”

His honor demanded that he ignore her request, but his heart and body commanded him to stay. Hesitating, he attempted to gather his wits, to remind her of the danger they courted, but reason fled in the wake of her next words, softly spoken in sudden shyness. “I want you.”

I want you. They were not the words of love and affection that his soul longed to hear, but they were a balm to his broken heart nonetheless. Whatever else she might think of him, whatever gentle words and inoffensive attentions might have caused her to turn to another lover after rejecting his suit, she was not entirely indifferent to him, after all. “Margaret, love,” he moaned, wrapping his hand behind her neck and drawing her in for a kiss.

She needed no further persuasion, giving herself over to his embrace with a sweetness that soothed his aching heart, wrapping her arms around his neck as she drew him to her. When he turned his head to direct his consideration to the perfect shell of her ear, too long overlooked in his attentions, he heard the words she muttered softly against the fine fabric of his shirt. “Don’t leave me, John. Please.”

Oh, how little she seemed to be aware of it, but he could deny her nothing. He did not know the exact moment that he had given himself over to her completely, but he had long recognized that she had merely to ask, and he would do her bidding. If she asked him for the moon, he would find a way to bring it down from the sky for her or die trying. And so her softly spoken plea broke what shreds of self-restraint remained, and all constraints of reason and honor fled in the wake of her desire.

Inwardly cursing the clothes that acted as barriers between them, preventing him from exploring her body with his hands and his mouth as he so longed to do, John wrapped his hands around her hips, drawing her forward to press himself against her, showing her the evidence of her desire. She gasped, hesitated, but did not draw away, gratifying his arching her body against him in return.

It was wrong. Most improper. But John no longer cared as he reached for the fastening of his trousers until he was finally free of their tight constraints. It took a bit more fumbling to make his way back under her skirts, the yards of fabric bunched between them a not-insignificant deterrent, but her smooth skin guided his fingers back to her soft folds. Drawn in by her warmth, he stroked her until he was assured her body was ready for him, and then he entered her in one strong thrust.

At his sudden invasion, Margaret let out a sharp cry, her body going rigid in his arms, her fingers trembling where they dug into his shoulders. He stilled immediately, the lust that had clouded his thoughts swept away by a singular realization: however her other lover had degraded her, he had not acted as dishonorably as John had just done. She had been an innocent, and he had just taken her maidenhead.

Closing his eyes, John growled a curse that was far too coarse for her delicate sensibilities and pressed his forehead against the curve of her shoulder as he struggled in vain to catch his breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He told himself he should withdraw, but once her initial shock had faded, she seemed disinclined to push him away. Instead, while he cursed himself for taking advantage of her innocence, she shifted in his arms. His breath escaped him in a tortured hiss as his body responded instantly to the slight, exploratory roll of her hips. “Don’t,” he groaned between gritted teeth. “Remain still. I-I can’t—”

But when had Margaret ever heeded his warnings? She ignored them now, the expression in her eyes dreamy and distant as she rolled her hips again, this time with more confidence. She breathed a word, too softly to be heard, although he thought it might have been, “…curious…”

His efforts to snatch at the threads of his self-control were fruitless. He had longed for her in vain for too long; his body was no longer willing to be bound by the constraints of his reason, and he thrust into her again. She arched against him, meeting the thrust of his hips with one of her own, her thighs falling wider to welcome him.

This was not what she deserved. Not ever, but certainly not for her first experience with physical passion. She deserved tenderness and care. Her Southern sensibilities made her softer than those of the North, and a gentleman worthy of her would have wooed her gently, restraining his darker impulses as he eased her into the act of lovemaking.

But John was not a soft man; he could not even pretend to be so, for her sake. Where he should have asked, he had a tendency to demand. Where he should exercise caution, he exhibited no restraint. His thrusts were strong and powerful as he drove into her, driving forcefully toward his own release until he pressed his mouth against the side of her neck and poured himself into her with a muffled cry.

When he returned to himself, he felt the slight pressure of her hand smoothing down the line of his back in a soothing gesture that might have brought tears to his eyes if such a thing were in his nature. It unmanned him, that she should show him such tenderness when he had shown her none. If anyone deserved compassion and soothing apology, it was her, for the manner in which he had just debased her.

After the slights he had made against her character and reputation, he had made the darkest mark of all. In the aftermath of their reckless coupling, sense finally prevailed, and honor dictated only one course of option, as distasteful to her as it would be.

Drawing away from the comfort of her touch, John angled his body away from her view as he pulled himself to rights, wanting to spare her the shock of seeing his naked form, at least. As he searched for his discarded jacket and cravat, he heard the rustle of fabric behind him as Margaret attempted to smooth the wrinkles in her gown. Once he had returned himself to some semblance of order, he clasped his hands behind his back and turned to face her.

“My apologies for – I think – I know you—” as he had through his proposal, he found himself fumbling with his words, making a mess of things. With a huff of irritation at his own incompetence, he tried again. “With your permission, I will call on your father tomorrow to ask for his consent to take your hand in marriage.”

Her eyes flew to his face. “What? No, surely that is unnecessary!”

He would not let her obvious dismay shake his resolve. “Margaret, you must understand that we have no other recourse.”

Her face flushed with indignation, she stepped away from him. “I recognize that you once again think it your duty to save my reputation, but my opinion on this matter remains unchanged. Unlike you, my father and I have no servants, to whisper about us behind closed doors. Nobody need know about this…this…our situation, so there is no need to rescue me from ridicule—”

“I know that you find me distasteful, but you must be reasonable. What we have done – our situation has changed!”

“Was this always your plan, then? You couldn’t purchase my hand, so you thought you could force me into a marriage of responsibility when you know that is the last thing I want?”

Her words pierced him like a dagger, and he bowed his head. Like a ferocious beast, his temper roared inside his chest, fighting to break free, to answer her contempt and her unjust accusations. For perhaps the first and only time in his life, he did not give way to anger and wounded pride, and he bit back words he would later regret.

“We may not need the gossip of servants for everyone to know what we’ve done. Has it occurred to you that you might—” his voice faltered as he prepared to speak of things even he knew were not discussed in polite company such as hers, “—you might be with child?” Her hand flew to her stomach, and she let out a gasp of dismay. As she angled her body away from view, a terrible silence fell between them.

She would never believe in his innocence – and perhaps she was not entirely wrong in refusing to do so. He was innocent of the charges she had laid at his feet, but he was not without blame. He had not come to her house with the intent to seduce her, and it was shameful how little thought he had given to the consequences of their actions while he held her in his arms. But he had allowed desire to overcome reason. He had taken her innocence. He had made love to her, knowing it unlikely that her feelings for him had changed.

“I am not a…a gentle man,” he conceded softly. “But I hope I may claim to be a good one. There is little enough I can offer you—” given the state of his mill’s finances in the aftermath of the strike, he was not even certain he could offer her security, “—but I can promise you that I will always treat you with honor.” He scowled even as the words left his mouth, knowing that it was his dishonorable actions that had put her in this situation. “You may always depend upon my honesty. My devotion. If it is within my power, I will do everything I can to make you happy. You will have no cause to regret marrying me.”

“No,” she agreed in an undertone. “Except I do not love you. I never have.” Her words did not come as a shock, but they did bring no small measure of pain. “I never will.”

He winced, turning away from her, but he did not leave. Her words at his soul, but his heartache did not eclipse reality. They did not have the luxury of ignoring what had transpired between them. “Margaret—” he began.

“Miss Hale, if you don't mind,” she corrected him firmly, and he swallowed heavily.

“Miss Hale,” he amended with a dour glare, but she seemed disinclined to let him continue.

“I need time,” she blurted, turning toward the window. “To think. I – you cannot expect me to – I need time.”

Bowing his head, he gave in to her request. One day surely couldn’t hurt, and it might be the only measure of kindness he could offer her in this situation. “Very well. I’ll call upon you tomorrow.”

His words received no acknowledgement or reply. With nothing left to say, John turned and fled down the stairs, abandoning his coat, hat, and gloves without a second thought as he escaped into the cold evening air.

“I do not love you. I never have. I never will.” Her words only confirmed what he had already known. She would never care for him the way he felt for her. She would never be his. Even though he was doomed to always – always – be hers.

[thesalemsaga]

𝟲 — 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘆

—   𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.4k words

𝙨 : they’ve left the walls, and now it seems like they’re unstoppable. however, having to make a short stop, they soon uncover the savagery that has taken hold of the world, putting their training to the test.

“ doesn’t your eye-sight hurt? ”.

alexander peered up once seren’s voice caught his ears.

she had been sitting at his side for a good hour, glancing over his shoulder whilst his index finger trailed beneath the lines consisting of runes and symbols that she had never dreamt of seeing before. for the first time she took knowledge over how his fingers were tainted with ink, red from hours of writing, pouring every last pint of energy he had into his studies.

seren had seen copious books thrown in front of her when exam season hit the calendar, but nothing could compare to what this boy probably had to sit through to be a qualified cleric. she took to admire alexander for how he persevered, it didn’t seem like it was labor for him, he must enjoy it to some degree. even now, when he could be talking to the others, growing closer to them, strengthening bonds, he continues reading as if to never give himself a break from the school they probably wouldn’t see for a while.

yet, the more she thought about it, the clearer it became. maybe it was for the very reason that they would not face their school for some months that he clung to the only thing that might bring a sense of normalcy. school is hell, albeit the only thing they’ve ever known within the walls. it kept them grounded, centered on something. even seren, an avid daydreamer, allowed herself to be consumed by her studies and let it became the center of her life.

now she realizes that she has to distance herself from the only life she’s ever known and replace it for one she could not control, where the laws didn’t bend at her will, because nature kneels to no one. 

alexander was wise, though, to keep something to occupy his mind. who knows how long it’ll be before they start to lose their ways and begin to cave into the reality of the world outside?

“ m-my father got me these at the start of the year after . . . some glasses that made my eye-sight worse. these ones have steadily improved it, though ”, he replied after a moment, immediately drawing his attention once more to the book he grasped within his hands.

seren hummed, swinging her feet slightly. “ is your hair also always like that? ”, she questioned. she found herself in a very questioning mood that day, maybe it was an attempt to distract herself from the utter boredom she might face during this flight to egypt.

“ like what? ”.

“ that bowel-shape cut. ”

his face suddenly incredibly pink, red rising to the tip of his ears. seren’s eyes widened for a moment with slight realization, “ w-well, you get what i mean. always the same style, quite conservative. do you ever switch it up? ”.

“ how? i find it unnecessary. and a waste of time, if you ask me. ”

chuckling, the girl rested her back against her seat and ran her fingers through her own hair, “ not exactly. i find that boys switch up their hairstyles more than girls on some occasions. have you seen percy? one day he has a perm, the next he’s wearing a beret. ” it was super cute.

alexander appeared timid all of a sudden. “ well i’m not percy, seren. i find that i quite like my look. sure, the glasses can be fussy and the hair is hard to cope with in the morning, but it’s my signature look. like your hair bow ”.

seren defensively grasped her ointment, “ i have my bow but i still style my hair differently on occasions. i customize it, explore my way of dressing. it’s actually a great way to learn to appreciate your looks, looking at yourself in different ways. ”

alexander seemed unwilling to counter, attention on the book once more. taking a deep inhale, the girl smiled and reached over. he had a signature look himself, that face. his entire face was a signature because his features were so firm and bold and beautiful, it would still be him even if he chose to wear something different or styled his hair.

she found herself removing his glasses, ignoring the fuss he appeared ready to put on, and messed up his hair, bringing the locks hiding his forehead and pushing them back. thankfully, they fell right into place. capturing a glance at him, seren felt like she was looking at a different person, she smiled to herself, content with the transformation that had occurred under her doing.

“ w-what? ”.

seren shook her head slightly, “ you look good. you look even better, actually. people never realize how beautiful they are when others are looking at them. you still look like you, in case you’re wondering. but just without the glasses. stop squinting~ ”.

“ s-sorry ”, letting out a small laugh, alexander raked a hand through his locks and seren was barely able to contain her excitement, he seemed to be liking it! “ i just really can’t see without my glasses. contact lenses are hard to wear, as well, i tear up and people think i’m constantly upset. ”

seren peered at the frames in her hands and hummed, “ can’t you enchant yourself to fix your own eye sight? or are long-term conditions out of question? i hear only a witch doctor can do that. ”

“ percy could. he’s a mage. the magic i access is limited only to healing and enchanting things that might bring people at death’s door. a stab wound, i can deal with. a cancer or a chronic illness, i’m afraid i can’t deal with that. believe me, i’ve tried ”, he countered, flipping aimlessly through his pages. seren’s eyes suddenly frowned. “ i would ask percy but . . . it’s too much to ask. it would demand a crazy amount of mana. ”

seren held her breath.

she’d witnessed it herself, the moment percy went pale the night before and for just a split second, it felt like he went totally limp before managing to catch himself. mana was the fuel source for anyone dealing with magic, and if you drain it, it eats your energy away in chunks if you use your magic excessively and recklessly.

alexander pushed on, “ besides, he could end up panicking and blinding me for life. i know he feels slightly reluctant when dealing with his magic. he hesitates all the time in magical art lessons. it’s like he’s scared of what he’s capable of. ”

“ well isn’t everyone? having that much power should scare anyone ”, seren shook her head, staring at her feet. “ magic is serious business, that’s why i felt lucky to not have inherited it. because as a swordsman, i have control of who my target is. as a mage, i might end up burning a whole village to kill just one man. ”

the aircraft suddenly shifted, and the girl caught herself in case she went overboard. it wasn’t turbulence, it seemed like they were going to start to make a descent into the territory they’d dreamed of stepping into. she stood up, clinging to the security railings on the roof and walls. “ what’s happening? ”, she called.

perseus peeked his head out of the cabin door with his cheeky, boxy grin. “ we’re about to land! ”, he replied over the sound of the engine roaring, but as they neared their descent, all that she could hear was the whistle of the wind. beyond the windows, she saw red. well, red soil.

the landscape in which they’d landed resembled a savanna region which you wouldn’t have expected to find in egypt a long time ago. the dirt paths were overtaken by spreading grass, tall acacia trees scattered around but not close enough to resemble a full forest. no animals in sight, as expected. and if there were, they probably fled when they heard the aircraft landing.

landing in a desolate terrain that a human being has probably not stepped into yet was a thrilling idea, albeit terrifying. because if there weren’t humans roaming then there had to be something else, lurking, aware that something strange and out of their world had just touched down on their soil.

it felt forbidden, like they shouldn’t be here.

“ are we in the sinai peninsula? ”, seren quizzed.

at the shake of kailen’s head, she was growing confused. “ i made an emergency landing because i need to figure this compass out. if i try to do it on hair it’s just going to waste fuel. we might as well pause here until i get this thing working. ”

“ well, what do we do in the meantime? ”.

“ explore for a bit, i suppose. ”

romeo was the first one out once the hatchet opened. seren stepped out and landed on the grass with her two feet. the sensation was albeit the same but knowing that they were no longer caged within stone walls and now roamed the wild, it was no wonder her heart felt heavier, blood pumping with excitement.

what she did notice was how unbearably hot it was, the sun smiling down at them, toasting the girl beneath her dense military clothes. they only weighed her down, and if she was going to traverse through desserts and dry lands, there was no point wearing it.

after ripping her jacket off, she felt a massive improvement, loosening one button of her white shirt and slipping her gloves off. “ s-seren, what are you doing? ”, she heard perseus stammer behind her. she blinked at him cluelessly.

“ i’m burning hot. besides, these things are only going to slow us down. we’re not representing valhalla out here, we’re by ourselves. ”

pacing forward, she began to investigate her surroundings with a little more liberty. time was of the essence, but they were not expecting to reach salem within a week, that was very unlikely. so whilst tying her hair back with her ribbon, she took to admiring the trees, the landscape, the mountains in the distance.

“ from what i heard ”, alexander began suddenly, crouching down to take a sip of his water. “ the peninsula became densely populated with trees. it used to be more of a dessert, mountain range. now it’s practically a rain forest. most of the middle east is a rain forest. ”

which would mean that there would be less dessert to traverse, which the girl was thankful for. she’d heard rumors that during the apocalypse period, the world underwent a series of freezes that meant temperatures drastically cooled down and even countries that used to be in the line of the equator became sudden areas stained with trees and wildlife. egypt was one of them.

and with cooler temperatures, trees and humidity, the wildlife can be, well, wild. the girl realized that after spotting something on the dry dirt just after a patch of grass. something that seemed to resemble footprints, huge ones.

whoever they belonged to, the creature had hands resembling a human being if it wasn’t so thin and so lanky, and she was certain she had just come across claw marks embedded into one of the nearby acacias. crouching, the girl ran her fingertips over the prints and hummed.

“ you okay? ”, romeo asked.

she motioned him over and pointed to the foot prints, measuring at least at three metres in length. “ what kind of animal would you find in the middle of these plains who could have such a claw? ”, she questioned. 

“ dragons, or some sort of lizard-resembling creature ”, the gunner replied, grazing his fingers over the marked dirt. “ these aren’t new footprints, though, they have most likely been here for at least three or four days. they’ve not faded yet because of the lack of wind. ”

seren frowned, looking off at the set of mountains in the distance. casting her memory back to when she met alexander in the library, she had pulled out a book on the creature at hand. it spoke of the domains dragons took to, and long mountain ranges were some of them.

hopefully we’ll be out of here before such dragon can spot us, she prayed.

“ hey, i think i found a lake or pond! ”.

they immediately stood and walked on over to where evangelos stood and pointed. there was certainly a body of water, a stream of some sort that most definitely belonged to a greater source, perhaps something verging off of the nile river. “ it’s pretty cool, i’d suggest maybe getting clean water or cooling down before we head back ”, perseus called.

seren did just that, crouching over the edge and taking the water in her hands, holding it to her nose. no funny odor, and based off of how evangelos was drinking, it had no funny taste either. and it wasn’t pristine, yet she could at least see the bottom of the pond. 

she refilled her water bottle and set it to be cooled, and then splashed her face a couple of times and instantly felt better, headache simmering down with each passing second until it stopped. “ you’d never would have thought the world would be peaceful like this after stepping outside ”, romeo began, grinning to himself. 

“ this won’t account for the rest of the world. for all we know, the rest could be filled with monsters of all sorts trying to kill us. but it’s nice that there’s a safe haven here, minus the dragon footprints ”, evangelos ran a hand through his now damp hair. “ i asked kailen. we’re apparently very close to cairo. we might even be able to see the pyramids if we fly low enough. ”

“ seriously? ”, seren gasped and beamed. “ that’d be so great! but . . . we’d be best off staying on higher ground to avoid being spotted or alarming anyone we don’t want knowing we’re here. ”

it was unknown just how for salem’s hand stretched. eastern europe was occupied completely by her henchmen and it was why they advanced so easily down into the balkan countries. the empire military was being forced back into greece as their defenses fell, their greatest fear being that salem would find crete soon enough, and the last set of human beings would be crushed under her wrath. 

earth would have to start again, smaller, weaker, with no means of fixing what they had since it was going to be stripped from them anyway. seren’s blood boiled, it came to a point where she was done questioning the morale of a person like salem, of why people go to these lengths to pursue things for their own benefit. evil people just exist, they don’t need a reason.

she would be damned if she let the woman get close to her home. having been spotted in russia already probably had her hiding out in fear, but fear brings panic, and in the midst of panic, she might do something catastrophic and seren promised her father the woman would be dead before such thing could happen.

“ do you think . . . there are human beings outside of the walls? ”.

seren turned to perseus and rose a brow, “ separate populations? ”.

the boy nodded. “ yeah. people who weren’t given a chance of treading into the walls like everyone else, people who isolated themselves. people who saw the wild as their home and never thought to abandon it. different languages, a different culture. i think it’d be nice if we came across something like that ”, he suddenly chuckled. “ though, let’s hope they’re not aggressive. ”

“ for all we know, they could also believe they’re the last people on earth. we’d surely give them quite a scare, being armed to the brim ”, evangelos stated, tilting his head. “ human beings can be sympathetic despite their differences. i don’t think we’re going to get killed at the hands of people like that, though. that’d be a waste. ”

it was never said whether there were humans beyond the walls. seren knew the government worked hard to expand the walls at the same pace that the population grew, allowing people to situate their homes in zones they deemed ‘safe.’ never was it said that they made contact with other people, and if they did, they kept it as a very, very good secret.

they suddenly jumped at an echoing sound and threw their gazes over their shoulders to find kailen at the open hatchet, waving them over with a grin. “ i’ve fixed it! ”.

romeo grumbled, “ about time. ”

once inside the ship, seren found alexander tapping away at some control buttons on the board, the compass glowing green and seemingly working pretty well. kailen had pulled out a map of the old world, and he prayed that the land structure hadn’t changed exactly.

“ it seems like we’re going in a more north east direction. as soon as we get into sinai, we’ll start treading through the middle east, and even more east just to avoid the baltics. from what i heard, salem doesn’t have much control over china and mongolia. so we have to enter through there ”, kailen spoke whilst running a red pen, tracing through path and drawing what seemed to be a border around the baltics. it was a good tactic, avoiding where the enemy’s front line was. he looked back at seren who stood just behind him. “ what do you think? ”.

the girl shook her head, “ it’s perfect. what we have to be mindful of is not disturbing any of her minions in the area, but we can worry about that later. how much fuel are we on? ”.

kailen winced, lowering his head. “ three hours, at least. t-though, i hear there is a place where we might find some . . . ”.

time skip . . .

the flight wasn’t too long, but it was long enough for the girl to catch another nap. the seats were incredibly uncomfortable, the components of the seat belt digging into her torso and waking her up when the airship would shift at times. the feeling only relieved when she had an idea.

evangelos had been sitting beside her quietly, doing what appeared to be doodling on his phone. valhalla students were given school phones that aimed mostly at giving them a better experience in their classes, and they had longer lasting batteries, which is why evangelos seemingly whipped it out. some adjustments made by alexander meant that the school could not trace them.

the seat beside the male was free, and the seat belt component was lowered which meant that what she had in mind could work, it was just a matter of whether evangelos would be comfortable. seren bit her lip and sat down beside him regardless, he lifted his gaze and glanced at her. “ what’s up? ”.

she didn’t say a word, resting her head against his shoulder and finding herself feeling way more comfortable as opposed to before, smiling softly to herself. evangelos merely held his breath, but made no attempt at moving or pushing her away. you’d think she would be more cautious around him of all people.

in reality, she would have felt awful for avoiding him because of that dueling incident. her arms were still recovering, albeit slowly. and the burn marks became heavily obvious in the daylight, hence her attempts at hiding them as best as she could. 

and she probably to avoid making evangelos feel bad.

“ comfortable? ”.

the girl nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips slightly. she was bothered by the marks she saw on the dirt road despite romeo’s reassurance. in all honesty, she was far more concerned with the idea of there being a dragon roaming the heavens than getting to salem.

kailen had stated there was a nearby bay area on the coast of northern sinai where human dealings had stained. some sort of power plant from a long time ago had exploded, leading to the area becoming unstable and too toxic to support human life. after many, many years, it looked as if the toxicity levels were low enough for the fuel to be deemed safe enough to power the airship’s engine.

what didn’t bide well with the girl was the lack of a hostile presence ever since their journey began. they had not encountered one enemy aside from clues pointing to a dragon terrorizing the nearby area, but to come face to face with an abnormal creature was still on their to-do list. it was silent, peaceful, nothing she was complaining about but it drained the thrill from the situation and made it feel as if they were sneaking out to a party rather than, you know, saving the world.

that would only mean that whatever they encountered soon was going to shake her to her core. hence why apprehension to easing down and resting too much, but she found evangelos’s shoulder to be comfortable. his presence radiated that of protection aside from intimidation. and he was warm.

seriously warm.

“ did it hurt? ”.

“ hm? ”.

his fingers grazed gently over the surface of her arms. his touch was delicate, not an ounce of mal intention with it. it was perhaps the most docile thing she had seen from evangelos from the moment she met him. her thoughts drifted once more to the duel, to the internal shock she experienced after that impact, the agony that came from the burns, the way her bones rattled in fear when she realized her weakness.

“ well, of course it hurt. but does it still hurt? ”, he sounded concerned, and a part of her ached on his behalf. to have everyone glance at you as if you’re some sort of monster when your anger builds and you act upon it must be something nobody wants to necessarily deal with. she hurt for him. and she didn’t see a reason for holding a grudge against an injury that will heal. sure, the marks will always be there. but they will never be a reminder that evangelos was a violent person. ever.

seren glanced at his hand and chuckled, patting it gently. “ it did. but what hurts me most is that you’re still hanging on. it’s healing, as most injuries do. i just want you not to worry about it when there are other things we have to heal ”, she said.

and that was not her attempt at shutting down the conversation, it was simply a way to reassure evangelos in case his thoughts were scrambled, in case he somehow considered himself as the monster people painted him as.

“ like . . . the wounds of people who might have been denied a home within the walls. the wounds of people who never got a chance to be saved. if they’re out there, then we have to help them heal. isn’t that what heroes are supposed to do? ”.

evangelos started, “ y-yeah, but . . . ”.

“ my wounds will heal. memories stay but it’s how you remember them that counts. i don’t remember it as an attack. i remember it as a mistake. and we all learn from them. ”

it was clear she wanted to say more to nurse the situation, to put his mind at rest but she was cut off when the engine began to roar a little louder. upon listening out, it became apparent it was not the engine. but rather, waves crashing against each other. an ocean. a beach.

when the ship landed and the hatchet opened once again, seren felt a chill crawl down her spine when the pristine blue sky she had seen previously turned bleak, grey. lifeless. something you’d expect to see on a cold island in northern europe, not in a tropical region blessed with greenery and life.

upon stepping out, it felt like entering another planet.

craters of sharp rocks and dips made the landscape, the waves thrashing roughly against the shores. it was violent, turbulent, as if a storm slowly crept above them. it was a phantom menace, one that would bare its fangs and strike the rocks with pummeling strength. it took her a couple of steps back suddenly to avoid getting hit by a wave. when her back hit kailen’s chest, she let out a minor squeak.

but he applied a firm hand to her shoulder and nodded to the others, “ alright, there has got to be an oil source nearby. the toxicity will not kill you since it’s harmless at this point. but still be careful. fill the tanks as best as you can. if there’s any sign of movement, don’t wait. just act. ”

the tanks he mentioned weren’t large but it was enough for each member to carry one individually. kailen had suggested that he stayed in the ship whilst they went off to get the oil before quickly returning.

but seren was apprehensive to leave him alone. “ are you sure you don’t want someone to stay behind? ”, she quizzed as they prepared to leave. “ you know we can’t exactly communicate without alerting the academy of where we are, what if something happens to you? ”.

kailen gave her his usual comforting smile, one which causes every suspicion or worry to practically vanish. but it didn’t work this time around on seren. “ i’ll be okay. you just hurry back. it’d be nice to get going before night fall. ”

there was no use convincing him, of course.

seren hurried just like everyone else. it was in their best interest to hurry in order to avoid enemies, but her worry remained grounded on kailen who had stayed in the ship. and although he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he might not be able to resist a mob of enemies, in whatever form they manifest themselves in. dragons, goblins, maybe even the very henchmen from last night.

“ kailen can handle himself, seren ”, romeo briskly reminded her with a quick pat on the back before hurrying her along. “ he’s an archer, sure. but his semblance won’t fail him in an attack if he gets swarmed. trust me, he will be okay. ”

seren chuckled, “ it’s a habit of mine to worry. i was even concerned when he was with alex fixing the compass. i suppose i feel anxious when we’re not in a group, if you can understand that. ”

romeo hummed, and swung the tank in his arm in a childish fashion that incited a grin from the girl. even if they were escaping mortal danger and running towards the enemy, he still acted as if it was a walk in the park. “ i don’t. but i reckon it’s due to the fact that i know their skills. and i know how strong they are individually. don’t worry, you’ll only exhaust yourself if you keep panicking during the journey. ”

to a great extent, she agreed. but this was also a habit that she has had from a young age, like her habit of taking the blame when it wasn’t hers to claim. unhealthy habits, as one might call it. it was going to take her a lot more time to grow distant from that constant worry. it wasn’t as if she was doubting their skills, they were in higher ranks than her and had stellar combat performances. yet . . .

a whistle from alexander caused her attention to shift. it seemed as if he had found something worth checking, so they hurried over.

what they stumbled across was a bunch of iron barrels with some sort of symbol on them. not the danger symbol, not the flammability symbol, but something else, a mark of manufacture. it was long faded, something that belonged to the old world yet it still sent shivers down her spine. part of the past stood in front of them.

perhaps the most bizarre detail to the scene were the skulls.

skulls.

ribs, skulls, arms and feet. as if a graveyard had surfaced from the soil, the barrels might have been a metaphor for a gold mine but the apparent human remains was what stunned seren the most. and even as the boys moved to fill the tanks, she remained with her feet nailed to the ground, her concern growing tenfold.

there was no use asking for what they believed happened here when it was somewhat clear. it had been a previous power plant, as kailen stated, and after an accident, nobody ever came to look at what remained of the location. craters of oil remained, yet what appeared to be the bodies of the workers also stayed. it was a disturbing sight of which she thought she’d only see in movies.

her steps brought her beside perseus who was studying one of the skulls closely, gloves slipped on and eyes narrowing in thought. “ notice how there is what appears to be bite or scratch marks near the top. that wouldn’t happen if it was a power plant accident, except if they were making monsters instead of oil, which i doubt ”, he stated, looking up at her. “ what do you think? ”.

seren brought her eyes towards the ocean, angry, thrashing, crashing, battling for what seemed to be a victim to pull into its grasps and yank it back into unknown depths.

“ i believe . . . it could have been a monster of some sort. maybe some animals that moved to the area and thought it would be nice to feast on the remains but the toxicity should have killed them and there are no animal bones . . . ”, she spoke, looking around. “ my bet is that it’s a monster. ”

evangelos suddenly grunted as he filled up the tank and screwed the lid shut. “ if there were monsters, they might have showed up by now. those marks look new, if we had the equipment we might have been able to locate the origin. but if it’s monsters, i suggest we hurry up ”.

but what kind of monster would attempt to dig their fangs into a human skull and then leave it aside. it would be normal if the flesh of the bodies had rotted and joined the soil beneath their feet, yet seren was uneasy. it felt too good to be true that this bay, dark and grey, was radio silent aside from the waves crashing ahead of them.

it was a horrible sensation, ignoring that worry gnawing at the back of her mind and then proceeding to fill up her tank with as much fuel as it could carry. she strained to lift it from the ground after screwing the cap shut but she heaved it up and sighed, following romeo who offered the way back to the ship.

with fuel in hand, they will be able to travel a longer distance before sundown and probably find themselves within the rain forest quickly. it would mean that they will be exposed to new danger but it would keep them hidden from any eyes from above trying to track them down.

“ where’s the ship? ”.

huh?

surely enough, when seren glanced up from the ground, her hand suddenly trembled and the tank met the floor within seconds as the ship had vanished. gone, as if it had never been there to begin with.

her first reaction was to believe that kailen might have left them. but if it had been the case, they would have heard the airship taking off and would have come running back long before their current return.

when they heard kailen’s scream, though, they all acted.

romeo suddenly bolted towards the edge of the rocks where he soon spotted the airship being dragged down the rocks, constantly being engulfed by violent waves that they couldn’t stick too close to. what was dragging the ship into the ocean?

seren’s worst nightmare.

mermaids, in mythology, are often depicted as beautiful creatures. alluring, tropical, ethereal. with perfect teeth and hair and stunning voices that will drive a sailor mad, inviting you in with docile smiles and large, curious eyes.

the mermaids that were dragging the ship into the ocean were far from it.

they were scathing around like wild animals, screeching and screaming loudly. there were dozens of them, seren was driven dizzy by the waving tails and the blunt force they used to drag the ship, pushing and pulling and screaming repeatedly and it felt like her ears were going to start bleeding soon, yet she gasped and reached for iron thorn the moment romeo fired a shot from his weapon.

“ kailen’s there! don’t let them get away! ”.

the ship was probably long gone, half submerged under water with kailen in the hatchet, motionless. seren’s food rose to her stomach in heaps yet she managed to fire some essences of ice from her blade, and it reached at least five mermaids, enveloping their tails and pulling them down into the rocks, keeping them from grasping at kailen.

but that still left at least twenty of them that evangelos and perseus were trying their best to blow away with the shots they could fire. evangelos was re-loading consistently, looking fed up by the second and perseus struggled on remaining on his feet. “ kailen! kailen, come on, man! kailen! ”, alexander yelled over the edge, flinching back when a mermaid jumped from a wave and tried to claw at his face. it was only then when seren realized that their nails were razor sharp.

with each stroke of ice and fire, the mermaids seemed to scream their way into the waves but when they began to drag kailen, alexander finally jumped into action and motioned with his hands. when the faint glow swarmed kailen’s body, the mermaid pulling him down shrieked and clawed at him. when alexander began to lift kailen’s body, seren was hopeful he would make it all the way.

when a mermaid jumped and suddenly grasped his ankle, romeo ran to keep the male on the rocks but kailen’s body began to fall back into the waves and seren did the only thing she could. and threw her sword that then pinned the fabric of kailen’s cape against the rocks. and then bolted, running the curve and launching her body over the edge and grabbing him roughly.

and soon, with the little strength she had, heaved him up, caring not for her sword that was probably going to fall into the waves.

“ perseus! ”.

seren busied herself with removing the tight jacket kailen wore as well as the chest coat and yet he made no attempt in breathing or moving. her blood began to run cold and when she began to apply her weight onto his chest, compressing a dozen times, she didn’t notice the hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

she was crying.

“ kailen? kailen! come on, wake up, wake up! breathe for me, kailen, please, we can’t lose you now! ”.

she grunted and pressed harder at a steady pace, her compression only becoming sloppy when she began to realize it wasn’t working. he wasn’t breathing. he wasn’t breathing! choking back a sob, seren pressed harder and felt someone grasping her shoulder but yanked their hand away and brought herself closer to the unresponsive boy. “ kailen, for fucks’s sake, stay with us! please! ”, she cried.

it was only when seren moved over him, pinched his nose and covered his mouth with hers, followed by two steady inhales, that she felt the boy flinch beneath her and jumped back to see the life rushing back to him.

kailen looked pale, coughing up the sea water that had been trapped within his lungs for some minutes. he was drenched, in some sort of pain, groaning through every cough and when he came to a stop, he panted. looking at the concerned faces looking over him, bringing his attention to seren and then looking around, as if to look for the ship.

“ w-what happened? w-why did i black out? ”, he grunted, moving to sit up but being pushed back down by evangelos who removed his jacket and wrapped it over the other’s shoulders. “ where’s the ship? o-oh god, did i lose the ship? ”.

seren’s lip quivered whilst she wiped the tears from her eyes, grimacing at the thought of having lost a team mate in the midst of something like that. the mermaids came out of nowhere, and through the way they shone their teeth at her, they were not good mermaids, not the ones she wold read about in stories and fairy tales. they were monsters. 

and they had almost killed kailen.

if they hadn’t arrived faster, kailen would have suffered the same fate as the remains of those people they had come across near the iron barrels. he would have been eaten.

“ they dragged the ship into the ocean. there’s no way we’re going to recover it now ”, romeo voiced with a sigh. seren glanced up when perseus gave her iron thorn. her heart sank once more. if she had lost kailen and her weapon . . . she gave the boy the best smile she could manage and nodded in gratitude, looming worriedly over the boy. “ looks like we’re gonna be walking. ”

kailen sighed and met eyes with seren, smiling timidly at her. “ sorry if i scared you. but thank you for acting so quickly ”, he managed through another cough.

“ y-yeah, it’s no worries ”, seren said and smiled back at him.

but they had a lot to worry about. the day had seemingly grown darker. they had faced possible carnivorous mermaids and they had also lost their ship.

night would fall soon.

they would get hungry.

they lost their direction.

they lost their means of travel.

they were lost. officially.

[bodytoflame-ao3]

61 wlw percabeth, please!

*chefs kiss*

61. hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp

Read on AO3

i spent this year as a ghostand i'm not sure where home is anymore

came out swinging ..//.. the wonder years

Annabeth has her pressed up against the wall in the halls of the Argo II and her brain is going haywire. It’s unlike her, but there’s little to dwell on (that her mind wants to visit). She’s rough, but slow, her hands tangled in Percy’s hair. Her lips move against Percy’s, forceful but full of calculated indolence, and it feels so foreign coming from the girl who feels like home. Of course she loves kissing Annabeth, but these aren’t the kisses she’s used to; Annabeth was lazy, and sweet, and definitely not the type to be carelessly grazing her teeth against Percy’s lower lip.

She’s been like this since they got back. And honestly, who would blame her? Percy couldn’t. She couldn’t even sleep without hearing Annabeth breathing next to her. It wasn’t good sleep, she’d probably gotten less than her recommended 8 hours in the past week combined, but it was better than waking up after 5 measly minutes in a cold sweat and crying out for her. This way, they were together, just like they promised.

Even though Percy knows it’s the unaddressed trauma and desperation talking, the idea of Annabeth pinning her to the wall and kissing her until she forgets her own name consumes her. So, she tries. Tries to forget the pain and focuses instead on the desire inherent in Annabeth’s eyes; remembering what it looks like when she cracks a devious smile and drags her off to a corner. They’ll have to face what happened eventually. But not today.

Annabeth breaks their kiss, catching her ragged breath. Her hands glide down, rolling off Percy’s shoulders and skimming her waist. She steps in even closer, fitting so perfectly in their embrace, bodies pressed together with no space in between. Her wide grey eyes lock with Percy’s, “I’m never leaving you. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Percy doesn’t know how to respond, other than a probably ill-informed I’ll follow you anywhere, so she just says, “I’m here.”

“I love you.” Annabeth buries her head in Percy’s shoulder. She can tell she’s holding back tears. It’s the third time she’s said it this week, but it’s less desperate than before; an affirmation, not a desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy. It gives her hope that things will keep getting better, and maybe Annabeth will be able to kiss her without it being a means to feel numb.

Percy threads her fingers into her tousled curls (she’s finally looking like herself again), holds her close, and whispers, “I love you, Annabeth Chase.” It’s a declaration, and a promise.

Annabeth lets out a light sigh, and captures her lips again, this time, with focus and devotion. It’s more tender, and Percy’s glad. They get a little bit better everyday. She kisses Percy like it’s the only thing she wants — no, knows — how to do. Creating space between them, her hands run across Percy’s stomach and sides over her t-shirt, the kind of needy touch she’s become accustomed to in the past few weeks. Fingers dance around the hem of the orange fabric, slipping just under it.

She wraps her hands around Percy, ghosting over the small of her back. It’s the most surface level contact, barely brushing over the skin. Even so, her touch lights the spot on fire; something Percy hasn’t felt since she first revealed it to her. Percy can’t hold back a sharp gasp, the heat washing over her body. Suddenly overwhelmed by her senses, she jolts upright, breaking the kiss and bracing herself with her hands on Annabeth’s shoulders. It feels like electricity coursing through her veins.

“What’s wrong?”

“You — it…” she struggles, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone explain.

“You forget to breathe, Seaweed Brain?” she chuckles, adjusting her grip and brushing over the spot again.

She’s going to melt. “No, I… your hands. That’s where my—”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth actually laughs at her. As embarrassed as Percy is about her reaction… it’s good to hear that sound again. It’s been a long time. “Does that seriously turn you on?”

The blush rises so intensely she can feel the tips of her ears heat up. Although she hates to admit it to herself… kind of, in a surreal sort of way. Her defensive answer comes a bit too late: “What? No!”

“Oh,” she sees right through it, “it does…”

It's the most normal conversation they've had in weeks. Annabeth’s making lazy circles around the small of her back, eyes locked on Percy's. She can feel her grip on the floor slip a little, struggling to keep her body from melting. It isn't like she's ever been normal, but evidently, she was cursed with a normal teenage brain; she desperately wants Annabeth to keep talking to her like this, to continue trailing her hands up her back just so she can hold her as close as humanly possible. Her rational side, the one that keeps her wits about her in battle, knows better. What she wouldn't give to have things go back to the way they were last summer, when they were seventeen, and figuring it out together. Now, every step she takes with Annabeth is its own battle. The second night back, all Annabeth wanted to do was kiss her for hours. "Well, if we can't sleep…” Percy almost felt wrong, like she was taking advantage of her, even though she knew she was just as broken herself. She hates that even thinking about something more sends her mind into a downward spiral. There’s too many things that are too complicated for them to just be normal, stupid, teenagers. It’s not fair. They’re scarred, and although the physical marks have started to fade as the days turn into weeks, she knows there’s some trauma that’s never going to leave them. But, oh, does she want to fall into bed with her, if only for a moment, to make her forget. To be the ones in control of the bruises peppering their bodies for once.

Percy’s silence is telling. Softness creeps back into Annabeth’s voice. “Is this too much?”

Yes. No. The truth? “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You saw what I can do!”

Annabeth doesn't flinch, doesn't take a step back, doesn't even blink. She simply brings her hands up to Percy's face and says, “You wouldn’t. I know you," like it's the only thing she's ever been sure of. She believes it. Percy doesn't.

“You know I love you.” She does. So much. “But you know as well as I do that we’re not okay right now.”

“I know,” she says, quiet and still. “I just need you to kiss me like we are.” There it is. In her own words, what Percy’s seen in her since they got back.

“We will be. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but…”

“We're going to have to talk about this, aren't we?” Annabeth asks. She shuffles, looking down; anything to avoid the truth.

Percy nods. “Eventually.”

Not today. “For now, can you just kiss me again?”

Percy shakes her head softly and rolls her eyes, lifting her into her arms, causing a squeal from Annabeth. Their lips meet, and Annabeth relaxes, letting her arms drape over Percy's shoulders, and wrapping her legs around her. Struck by an idea, she digs her heel into the spot, practically giggling against Percy's lips as she tenses up.

She's cruel. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Probably,” she shrugs, “But I’m going to enjoy it.”

[keyofjetwolf]

The Chosen: All the notes and answers to shit you wondered about for years

Hey. Hi there. How are you? I’m good, thanks for asking.

So, you remember when, at the beginning of the year, I said I was officially retiring my Buffy the Vampire Slayer continuation, The Chosen? If this is the first you’re hearing of it, a) SORRY TO DROP THAT ON YOU, and b) you may want to read this post first.

All caught up? Awesome.

I told you guys I’d share my stuff. This right here is that. I’ve searched through countless backups, terabytes of data, the remnants of three computers, AND MY SOUL (not really my soul; it doesn’t have a convenient find option), and I think this is everything. If there’s anything left of The Chosen that isn’t contained here, then it’s almost certainly lost to time and I wave it a fond farewell.

But don’t worry. There’s a lot here.

What I have for you are all the notes, plans, and ideas that I had written during the time when The Chosen was pretty much my entire world. From late 2003 to mid 2005, I was on my Buffy creative shit, and OH THE PLACES I WANTED TO GO. I’m not sure I’ll ever not be sad that, in the end, I couldn’t do it the way I wanted. Still, I’m glad to finally be showing you where we were heading.

I’ll try to give this as much order as I can, but my notes were strewn across a mass of files, and in some cases, I straight up can’t remember what the fuck I even meant any more. Feel free to ask if you have questions! Just be prepared that the answer may have to be an apologetic shrug.

I’m not sure what to wish for you all in the reading here. Closure, of some kind, I suppose is what we’re really all after. So closure it is! Happy closing, friends.

Thank you so much for allowing me to have captured your interest and attention, and for accompanying me and these characters I loved on the journey toward the ending I hoped for them.

** Any comments from present-me will be marked in this format. Otherwise, everything is untouched from how I wrote it whenever-the-fuck ago. Section headers are either as I named them at the time, or taken from the file name.

S8 Ideas

General Ideas

Rogue Slayer girl ' 'Full Circle'; Faith-centric.

Possessing demons ' personification of control ' W&K breakup episode.

Xander gets powers, but in exchange for his humanity. Comes to realize that his humanity is what his friends need, and he gives up the power.

Dawn's key powers are reawakened ' ability to unlock and enter doorways to parallel dimensions/realities and back again. Episode where this happens and she visits a parallel world (where she is the Slayer?). Possibly triggered by Doc, seeking to reawaken Glory?

Monster that eats body parts to rejuvenate them.

Emotion sucker.

Incubus that tries to seduce Buffy in her dreams.

Siren/rock group ' playing in club.

Faith/Buffy/other Slayers hunted for sport.

Super Slayer, enhanced by the DC. Big Bad? Guinea pig.

Legion of Super Slayers, created from life force of girls who reject the offer to join the DC.

Things to Name and Figure Out

The name of the new town.

New town is in center of three-Hellmouth triangle, consisting of Cleveland, Ohio, Syracuse, NY, and Washington DC. The gang is settled in a fictitious town in Pennsylvania, not far from Williamsport.

Name derived from three? Trinity, Trillium, etc.

The name of the Bronze replacement. (The Vortex?)

The name (and personality) of Kennedy's new Watcher.

The name (and personality) of the turncoat (the girl Giles talks to in Ep #1)

The name (and personality) of the girl Faith recruits (future cannon fodder)

Better name for the Dark Council.

Better name for the Dark Coven.

Assorted Ideas and Quotes

Scene: Someone shopping at a local bulk warehouse place. How much to Slayers eat? A LOT.

Possible use for the drug from "Helpless" that neutralizes Slayer powers?

Scene: Junior Slayers fighting monster. One says "You ARE the weakest link... Goodbye!" The others make fun of her for using such an outdated pop culture reference. She pouts that they should add a class about banter to the Slayer curriculum.

QUOTE: "D'you ever think sometime we should, you know, run AWAY from the blood curdling screams?"

QUOTE: Buffy doubts Tara's return. Willow: "What, you hold exclusive resurrection rights?"

QUOTE: Tara and Dark Coven guy. Tara: "She'll kill me. After I do this...Buffy will kill me." DC: "After you do this, will you care?"

QUOTE: "Excessive? I think you and excessive have already met in a head-on collision and exchanged insurance information."

QUOTE: Tara talking about doing stuff with Dawn: "You know, shopping, getting our hair done ... girl things." Willow: "I like your girl things."

QUOTE: Someone's sick, but denying it. They cough, get an accusing glance. "I just have something stuck in my throat." "Yeah, it's called ILLNESS."

QUOTE: Faith to somebody, possibly a young Slayer, who goes on at length about what they're going to do to a bad guy or deal with some serious challenge or something similar. "You're full of crap, you've got no idea what you're talking about. (beat) But you mean what you say, so that's gotta count for something."

Notes

1st ep

fate of SS's

Dawn's powers

X taking Watcher's courses

G distancing

W going to grad school

B/T going back to school

prophecy bits

G gets ring

Buffy bit - blood

Ante released

Season 9 Ideas

based on 7 samurai - group of people want to come in and hire the seven to clean something out

something happens where buffy or dawn disappears and the other goes to find them

core four have notoriety as evil forces (four horsemen) with some other community

sdhs reunion episode

"Demon that draws strength from guilt, hate, love, etc. Especially bad if it gets hold of Faith..."

---

I had a really cool thought about Buffy and relationships while I was in there though, which I think I'll have to work into The Chosen.

A common thread in each of her big relationships (Angel, Riley, Spike) is that when she tells them she loves them, they don't believe her.

Well Angel does, but he doesn't think she loves him enough. When he leaves, it's despite her telling him over and over that she loves him enough that him being a vampire and them not being able to do "normal" things doesn't matter. He doesn't believe her, and so leaves.

Riley tells Buffy during their big pre-him-leaving fight, that when she says she loves him, he "doesn't feel it". His disbelief in her and her words causes him to leave.

Then there's Spike. Final episode, Buffy finally tells him that she loves him. "No you don't. But thanks for saying it." And then he dies.

At this point in Buffy's life, there are a lot of reasons why Buffy wouldn't want a relationship in my opinion. But not the least of which is the fact that she MUST be able to answer the question of why none of these guys she loves ever believe her? (Even if you don't think she did love Spike, to Buffy I doubt that would matter -- HE didn't believe her EITHER [and how dare he not believe me, by the way!]).

It's a concept I just managed to sort out (in the shower, of course), and I don't think it's an "obvious" connection, but I do think it's an extremely valid one. I think before I'm done, I'll have to work this into the story somehow. And not resolve it, because I don't think it's easily resolved, and I think it's an issue outside the scope of what I'm trying to do, but I think the issue should be raised.

Season 9 Episode Ideas

Episode where everybody speaks in rhymes. Possible reintroduction for Faerie character?

De-aging episode, Giles' 50th birthday. Courtesy of Ethan Rayne. ("Many Happy Returns"?) Zaps Giles, Willow, Buffy and Xander back to four or five or so, leaving Tara, Faith and Dawn to look after them.

Episode dealing with the murderers in the group: Faith, Willow and Giles. Finch's son/daughter hunts down Faith to (confront? get revenge?) for his death. Sub-plots for Willow/Warren and Giles/Ben. Interesting to note that Faith is the only one who has ever shown any regret for her murder.

Herculean labors parallel. Xander? ("Labor Day"?)

Seven deadly sins with each main character embodying one of the sins? The one least like themselves?

Buffy: Greed

Willow: Sloth

Xander: Pride

Giles: Envy

Tara: Wrath

Dawn: Lust

Faith: Gluttony

Some other Slayer in the past, fighting an enemy that arises today. The gang have to read through the old Watcher's diaries to learn about him and how she defeated it. Shows this old Slayer and her Watcher via flashback. Maybe our Big Bads?

The characters get sent into Faerie Tales where they're forced to sort of act out the tales they're in.

Inanimate creation of some sort (puppet like) who makes other inanimate objects come to life. Specifically mannequins, by switching them out for real people. Some Scoobies, of course, fall victim to this.

Xander getting set up on blind dates. Amusing segment where Xander explains to date after date about what happened to his eye, each reason becoming more and more outlandish. Finally he just gives up and tells the truth - "It was gouged out by a crazy preacher man." The date laughs: "You're so funny!" Could end with Xander getting fixed up with the girl we introduced in S8 and possibly have seen a few times since then - Xander's love interest.

Revisit ideas: nameless, faceless army for the good guys, what are we doing with our army?

Tara dealing with family issues. Why am I back? Madrigan as new father.

Banan the collector

Alt world where Core4 seen like 4 horsemen (Title: "The Four"?)

Conversation where some characters are guessing who would've been the next successor to the Slayer line.

"Other side" episode with dead characters

Buffy/Dawn ep about Buffy's role in Dawn's life. Seeing the others intreract with her, wondering what her place is in Dawn's life. Parallel with flashbacks about VS and her sister. Starts with Buffy finding Grip and Dawn making out, leads to Buffy giving Dawn "the talk" and failing miserably. ("Sometimes, after you and a guy ...... they CHANGE.") Dawn learns nothing, goes to Tara from there, who knows nothing about having sex with a guy, but is supportive and encouraging. Buffy overhears and then begins to try to find how she fits into Dawn's life. We learn at the end that although B/D are vastly different from the VS and her sis, the bond is still just as strong.

Willow (and Tara) meeting up with Willow's parents again.

Big Bads

Vampires, return to the simpler times a bit. Not apocalyptic, but personal. Female vamp with a real mad-on for Buffy. Pissed because Buffy failed to save her? Also possibly some sort of vampire army. Fem is a modern-day Sun Tzu, right hand to this guy in charge of everything.

Addition (3Jul04): After some discussion, we're leaning toward making the femvamp a Slayer who was turned waaaay the heck back when. Possibly held or captured by some other vampire later on in life, and she was released by the head of the army, thus earning her allegiance. Maybe she's Japanese and thus very honourable? If we take her from 1600 or 1700's Japan, that might work out well. Might also give added weight to why her soul has no bearing on halting her quest for vengeance - honor demands that her sister's death be avenged. Possible imagery: maybe she was tortured by whoever held her? The mental image of big ol' cross scar over her eye is intriguing.

Season 9 Episode Chart

Notes

Need to work out (soon!) everybody's hell stuff so it can be incorporated into earlier episodes.

Willow versus hacker vamp idea. Why? What's at stake? Possible fill for humour ep at 9x16?

Corollary: Replot Willow's arc through S9 and possibly into S10.

Get new prophecy for Giles.

Work in at least one other prophecy stanza this season. Important to figure out soon. Who, when, how?

** This was a chart which doesn’t translate well to Tumblr, so I’ll break the cells apart and show column separation with ||

Updated - 22 June 2005

Ep # || Monster/Conflict || Plot Developments || Focus

9x01 || Vamps || Buffy kills Hitakno || Group

9x02 || Dante || Faith comes home || Faith

9x03 || Slone || Sunnydale HS reunion in LA || Group

9x04 || Vamps/Demons || Yuugana arrives in Trillium, Xander quits the Council || Xander

9x05 || Belastung || Tara goes home. || Tara

9x06 || Ethan || Giles birthday, Scoobies regressed  || Giles

----------------- NOT YET AIRED -----------------

9x07 || Slayer || Demon girl on run from Slayer. Buffy and Slayer at moral odds. Dawn key powers awaken fully. || Buffy/Dawn

9x08 || Amy || Amy cashes in on Willow's debt. (Fake) Buffy accompanies. || Willow

9x09 || D'Hoffryn || Xander makes a wish that Anya hadn't died. || Xander

9x10 || The Furies || The Furies drive Finch's child to revenge. While they're here, they decide to spread the love. || Faith/Giles

9x11 || ??? || Funny episode - Camping trip? || Group(??)

9x12 || Yuugana || Faith visits Hazel's parents (Xander accompanies). Upon return to Trillium, is attacked and nearly killed by Yuugana. || Faith/Xander

9x13 || Yuugana/General || Sister's parallel. Buffy and Dawn, Yuugana and Hitanko. Yuu's backstory. General arrives, drains Willow and Dawn. || Yuugana/Buffy

9x14 || Yuugana/General || Buffy insists that the gang re-ensoul Yuugana. They do so; it makes no difference. Buffy attacked, put in coma. || Buffy/Group

9x15 || Antediluvian || In an effort to save Buffy, Tara, Xander, Dawn and Kennedy go in search of Ruth, and the Antediluvian. || Tara/Group

9x16 || ??? || Funny episode - ??? || Willow(??)

9x17 || The General || The General's plans come to fruition. || Group

9x18 || Giles' Demon || A demon Giles thought defeated years ago comes back to continue their arrangement. || Giles

9x19 || 7 Sins || The Seven Sins are unleashed on the Scoobies. || Group

9x20 || The General/Yuugana || The General releases Yuugana and they formulate a new plan involving Dawn. Yuugana kills the General and takes Dawn as bait. || Group(?)

9x21 || Yuugana || Part 1. Yuugana takes Dawn into the Private Hell place where she was recently kept. The Scoobies must follow. || Group

9x22 || Yuugana || Part 2. The Scoobies fight their way through their personal hell. Buffy vs Yuugana. || Group

Original Chart

** “VS” stands for “vampiric slayer”, so Yuugana before she had a name.

Ep # || Monster/Conflict || Plot Developments || Focus

9x01 || Vamps || Buffy kills the VS's sister || Group

9x02 || Serial killer || Faith comes home??

9x03 || ?? || Sunnydale HS reunion in LA || ??/Group(?)

9x04 || ?? (vamps?) || VS arrives in Trillium || ??/Group(?)

9x05 || ?? || Tara goes home. VS denied immediate revenge. || Tara

9x06 || Amy || Amy collects on debt. Wants Will to help her get a book. ||  Willow/Buffy

9x07 || Ethan Rayne || Giles birthday/regression || Giles

9x08 || Doc || Dawn & Doc - Key powers fully awoken || Dawn

9x09 || Finch's child (furies?) || Murderers haunted by past || Faith (lesser: W, G)

9x10 || D'Hoffryn || Xander's wish (Anya) || Xander

9x11 || VS/?? || Sister's parallel episode || Buffy/Dawn

9x12 || Monster in woods || Camping trip (Tara and blade of grass) || Group

9x13 || VS || Buffy vs. VS -- VS ensouled, Buffy drained || Buffy

9x14 || VS minions(?) || Buffy injured. Group goes after Antediluvian || Tara/Group

9x15 || ?? || "Labor Day" (Kenn still around) || Xander

9x16 || artifact || 7 Deadly Sins || Group

9x17 || Computer Program || Willow and the computer program || Willow

9x18 || ?? || Faith visits Hazel's parents || Faith/Xander

9x19 || Demon || Demon that's possessed Giles. Comes every 10(?) years. || Giles

9x20 || General || Fight with General - General loses || Group

9x21 || Demon Dimension || Four Horsemen ("Four"?) [Abortive attempt by VS to separate Buffy from her strongest allies?] || B/W/X/G

9x22 || VS || Big battle -- Buffy vs. VS || Buffy/Group

Yuugana

need: how does Buffy come to believe what she does about Yuu? Conversation beforehand? Difficult. Why doesn't Yuu just kill her? Could make threat, but then Buffy is gambling with everyone, and makes no sense why Yuu nearly kills Buffy later. (Especially as threat will come when Buffy falls unconscious.)

Buffy must be able to draw conclusions ahead of time. Paint picture of Yuu that Buffy will be privvy to. Draw parallels b/w Buffy's life and Yuugana's life. Buffy will internalize.

NEED: When/How will gang find out that she is Yuugana? When will this name be dropped? How? May be good if we can draw General as being very, very powerful. They're afraid of him. Getting Yuu on their side would be huge in fighting him.

Idea: General nearly kills Dawn, draining key powers. Yuu saves her. Buffy thinks it is because Yuu knows what it's like to lose a sister. In truth, Yuu isn't ready for Dawn to die yet - that will be the most painful blow of all.

buffy believes -- utterly believes -- that Yuugana will be good if given her soul. Spike was good, Angel was good ... maybe all vampires can do good if given the chance? Who is she to be judge, jury and executioner?

Internalized: this could be me. What would I do if someone killed Dawn?

** I found two sets of Season 9 character arc notes. The first set are what I think what I was mainly working from, but I’m not 100%.

Character Emotional/Plot Arcs – Season 9

Season Theme: Consequences

Buffy

Will be target of the Big Bad’s wrath as a consequence of killing the BB’s sister early in the season. Buffy’s primary emotional arc will be in the realization that every action, even the most seemingly natural or inconsequential, has far-reaching repercussions, that affect not just Buffy but those she loves.

Willow

Willow’s emotional arc returns to one that was never resolved or given enough attention (or mangled thanks to magic=crack) – control issues. Throughout Willow’s history on BtVS, she’s exhibited time and again a deep NEED to control the things around her. Her need for this never changed, save for her becoming so paranoid she was afraid to breath for fear of killing everyone in S7. Her catalyst for these deep-seeded emotional problems re-emerging stem from a few basic changes. 1) Tara’s back, and Willow doesn’t think she can take losing her again. 2) The Big Bad has made things very, very personal. And Willow remembers only too well what happened last time a Big Bad vampire took things personal. 3) This Big Bad is smart. Really smart. In some ways, even smarter than Willow. And for all the enemies they’ve faced, Will’s never had to go against someone who’s been able to out think her before. And she freaks.

We’re going to have to be careful with this one, though, because we don’t want a return to “Willow Uses Way Too Much Magick” again. We’re therefore going to have to find others ways in which Willow exercises that control trigger finger. Her computer skills could certainly help out to a degree, as well as her smarts, but we’re going to have to be careful. We definitely don’t want a rehash of S6’s problems. Willow is – or very much should be – wiser than that now. And while Will has sort of always had a bad case of “the ends justify the means”, we don’t want a rehash. So care is needed.

We could help to show this by maybe having Willow do something like casting a really powerful protection spell that somehow backfires. What will be vitally important here is taking care to make it very clear that Willow isn’t relying on magick for every little thing (no spells for decoration or closing curtains) … the magick is simply her most powerful tool for keeping everyone safe. This should NOT be about black magick, but about a need for control.

NOTE (4Jul04): After discussions, will probably meld Will's character arc with the fact that Buffy and others (Tara and Giles probably excepted) don't fully appreciate or realize the pressures they put on Willow to come up with the answers and be the big gun, while simultaneously not wanting her to go too far. Magick is bad, except when they need it. They don't accept their own consequences for the actions they push her toward. This still feeds into Willow's character flaws above - her need to protect everyone, to be the best, to keep the nasty stuff at bay.

Xander

Xander, being the human element, will have the root of his emotional arc derive from one of the most basic of human desires: to live forever. Not in the biologically immortal sense, but by wanting to live on long after he’s died. Xander realizes that of all his friends, he is the one that history is least likely to remember. The odds on him being studied in school centuries from now are next to nothing. Buffy will be recalled as the world’s most successful Slayer. Willow as the witch whose spell changed the world. Giles as the founder of the new Watcher’s Council (and new world order?) Any history mentioning Willow is almost guaranteed to include Tara as well. Dawn and her Key potential is fascinating and going to be mentioned … but Xander? There’s nothing so remarkable about Xander, he feels, and thus begins his quest to somehow ensure his own immortality to history.

This might somehow be triggered by the emergence of a new sort of threat. With Slayers all over the world, there’s absolutely no way that NOBODY is going to notice them. Even if people in the Buffyverse have shown time and again that they’ll simply ignore what they either can’t or are unwilling to understand (gang related, PCP), not everybody is so willing to pull down the veil. Thus begins the emergence of a conspiracy theorist, someone who somehow has managed to trace his story to Slayer Central. In doing so, he somehow manages to put a level of importance on each of the Scoobies … except Xander. Which stings.

Xander would eventually come to realize that while history may not remember him, those he loves certainly will, and when all’s said and done, that’s enough for him.

Giles

Giles’ arc will come out of an inevitability – his age. One of the earliest episodes will be reflecting on the fact that Giles is now 50. He’s done such a good job with the Council that much of the bureaucracy continues without his direct involvement. He’s not really keen on that side of things anyway, so he’s not sorry to see it go. But what he does want to do instead is get into the thick of things physically. But, unfortunately, he simply can’t anymore, and it’s a lesson he very much doesn’t want to learn. Giles will ultimately come to realize, however, that while he can’t swing a sword to match the Slayer, what he DOES have is his incredible mind, which will certainly be put to great use in the confrontations with the Sun Tzu-like Big Bad. The fight could not be won without Giles’ intellectual input.

Tara

Tara will spend much of her arc wondering about her place. When she was alive, she had some difficulty in fitting in. And it wasn’t until just before her death that she really started to come into her own. A year and a half has passed now, however, and things and people have changed. Tara aspires to be more than just an extension of Willow, and as voiced in “Family”, she wants very much to feel useful to the Scoobies.

But Tara’s need to find where she fits extends beyond simply within the Scoobs. Tara has a very definite sense of nature and balance, and her being brought back from the dead is something of an abhorrence to her. She can’t quite shake the feeling that in order for her to have been brought back, something had to go out in her place to keep the balance. What that may have been disturbs her beyond words.

How exactly these issues become resolved is currently unclear. Tara should certainly remain the moral and emotional center of the Scoobies. She has more power now, but power was always Willow’s contribution, not Tara’s. On the death thing, perhaps something mystical helps her? Maybe the big Wicca chick we bring in at the end of S8 can help somehow? Show that Tara’s coming back was, in its own way, as natural as her passing was UNnatural. Her return is, in and of itself, a righting of the scales.

Dawn

This is a big year for Dawn. She’s a senior in high school. She’s turning 18. She’s becoming an adult. Oh, yeah, and she’ll finally figure out that she’s got all those Key powers still. Dawn’s story will be about transitions. From childhood to adulthood, from being just a normal (as normal as she could be) girl to having all those powers as the Key and whatever that implies for her. We will also need to decide this year where Dawn’s going to college (her awakening Key powers could be a good excuse to keep her local).

Faith

Faith’s story is going to be about guilt. Hazel’s death at the end of the previous season happened right before we ended the whole thing, so at that point we will have gotten to see precious little carryover. This is the time to dwell on that. Faith would feel tremendous guilt over Hazel’s death – Faith is the one who recruited Hazel, who brought her there. She was Hazel’s mentor, and Hazel sacrificed herself for Faith. We don’t want to retread over the “do I belong here?” line, since we’re dealing with that in S8, but Faith should certainly be questioning whether or not she should be leading little girls into dangerous battles. It’s one thing for Faith to risk her life night after night, but another entirely to be responsible for the lives and deaths of others. Unsure how this will resolve, but it seems the logical arc for Faith given the closing of the previous season.

Big Bad

NOTE: We’re going to have to come up with a really good reason why Willow just doesn’t ensoul the vamp chick … or she does and it makes no difference at all. Could be an interesting commentary about vampires and souls. Hm.

The more we’re discussing this, the more we’re liking this idea. The notion of souls in the Buffyverse has always been sort of hazy at best. Loosely, they seemed to be of the opinion that getting a soul somehow made you good … but there are countless number of humans in the world (and the Buffyverse – look at Warren) who are human and, one therefore assumes, have a soul. Yet they are still capable of great evil. Even more so than some demons that they encounter. So despite however neat and pat Buffy likes to make it sometimes, a soul does NOT automatically mean that someone is going to be good. And maybe that throws her for a hell of a loop. Willow ensouls the BB, but it doesn’t make one bit of difference. Vengeance is, after all, as much a human emotion as anything else, and the BB still wants Buffy to suffer horribly for what she’s done. At most, the BB may feel some measure of guilt for the people that she’s had to kill over the past 300 or 400 years (however long she’s been vamped), but as it turns out, she doesn’t. She looks at it with the detached, cold impracticality possessed by Slayers – she did what she had to in order to survive. Maybe she wasn’t a fan of torture (we’re painting her very logical and such, so this should work okay), and simply did what she needed to. The Slayer in and of itself is very predatorial and most definitely a survivor – there’s not necessarily much difference between them, and this will further demonstrate that fact.

This could also further add to Willow’s continued feeling of being out of control. This SHOULD have worked and didn’t.

Season 9 Character Arcs

Buffy:

Buffy's arc will deal with a continuing gray area between what is good and what is evil. What is a soul really? Does having a soul make you good by default? The vampiric Slayer will prove that's not necessarily the case. Additionally, Buffy will be trying to sort out a few things about her life. What does she ultimately want to do? She could very well be the first Slayer in history to die of old age. Does she want to be involved with that all her life, or does she want more? Would Buffy maybe like to return to school? (Might be fun to have her and Tara going back to school together.) Around midway point, Buffy is nearly drained to death by vamp Slayer, she must rely on others to take care of her - doesn't always have to be the strong one.

Willow:

Willow will come to the realization that her magick is of no use against the Big Bad this year. What is Willow without her magick? What else can she contribute? Progressively, other things may fail as well, so that Willow is systematically deconstructed and having to find her true purpose and how she can contribute outside of her raw power.

Xander:

Xander will explore his roles this season. He's said that he won't be forgotten or shoved aside, so then the question becomes, how will he contribute? It's up to Xander to answer this question. He tries his hand at a variety of roles - maybe a Watcher, maybe a husband (though he's already "failed" at that one). Come the end, he realizes that his role is support, and it's the role he's always fallen into naturally.

Giles:

Giles is pulling away from the others. He's beginning to see the Slayers as nameless, faceless people. He realizes that he'll have to sacrifice them - and some part of himself - again at some point in the future, so he's subconsciously distancing himself from the pain. He's slowly becoming the Old Council. Comes to realize that while he may have to distance himself from the body as a whole, it doesn't mean he shouldn't have any attachments at all. And that he can be those two people - the one that can love them, but still sacrifice them for the greater good if necessary (which will work, as Giles will ultimately sacrifice himself, NOT for the greater good but because he doesn't want them to die).  ** Which may be a good time to point out that I was going to kill Giles next season, kisses.

Tara:

Tara's quest this year will be for her place. She's died and come back, but this isn't "right". There is a balance in things, and she feels she's upset that balance. She'll explore her past and her family to find out why, in a grander sense, she's back and how she fits in now.

Tara and Willow:

Tara discovers that Willow has somewhat enshrined her as a result of her death and return. Willow caves to Tara almost constantly, and it's beginning to affect them both, but Willow can't bring herself to fight with Tara as a result of what happens every time they fight. She doesn't want Tara to go away again. They must fight, they have to learn that it's okay. Tara pushes it with Willow and makes it happen. Maybe when Tara goes to visit her family, that's the catalyst.

Dawn:

Dawn becomes victim of the time-old adage, "be careful what you wish for". She's always wanted to be a Scooby, but now that's beginning to conflict with her other desire to be a regular teenaged girl and her other big desire: to be an adult. All these worlds are colliding and Dawn's not sure which is more important. Blows off Scooby things for friend-things sometimes. Blows off friend-things for Scooby-things.

Re Grip: They're getting closer, but she keeps having to put off things with him due to Scooby situations. Grip notices and (kindly) confronts her, wondering if she really just doesn't want to see him anymore but doesn't know how to tell him. When he finds out about the baddies, he'll back away, needing time to process. Poor Dawnie.

Faith:

Faith will spend the season getting back onto the redemptive path she's been on for years. She doesn't feel bad that she killed Judith and is wondering what the means (somewhat like when her mother died). She'll learn that just because she's stumbled doesn't mean she's fallen. She begins in England, hiding out from Trillium. Thinking she should go solo, it was easier when she didn't have anyone else to worry about. Doesn't want to go back, but Kennedy pushes her. Once back, Faith avoids everyone. Should Giles maybe get Faith into therapy?

Buffy agitated that Faith isn't really being punished. Faith points out that a lot of people around Buffy are killers and they've never been punished either. Buffy needs things black and white, Faith is another shade of grey and it's getting harder and harder for her to do her job.

Xander gets to the heart of things too much, and Faith doesn't want to deal with that. Finally it's Willow who lets Faith know that there's someone who DOES understand. It's the first step in getting Faith back into things, but she still doesn't want to teach.

Maybe at some point in the season, Faith takes off? If so, Xander should probably pursue. (Might tie in nicely to Xander's "what's my role?" arc. Perhaps he has a job interview or something that he can't miss out on that will further define him, but he misses it because he has to help Faith, and that's the choice he makes) Could be where Hazel's death gets resolved. Goes to Hazel's house and parents for that?

Faith's murder issue will probably come to a head when she's face-to-face with Finch's child. Kid wants revenge, and Faith understands that. States how it won't make anything better, but gives up and says that if s/he wants it so bad, just take it. S/he doesn't, of course, which would probably disappoint Faith to a degree.

Maybe show Faith just starting to teach again at the end of the season, rather than some big culmination. Maybe she's forced into it when the VS keeps the other Slayers occupied? Buffy would be elsewhere at the time.

  The Big Bad

** These are some of my earliest notes, as reflected in how I’m using my placeholder names like “Dark Coven”. A lot of it deals with what happened in S8, but it outlines the larger arc, which would have come to a head in S10.

What the Bad Guys Want

The Dark Coven is seeking to reawaken The Old Ones. As per Giles in “Welcome to the Hellmouth", the Old Ones were driven out when the lost their "purchase" on this reality. The last vestiges of the Old Ones fed on a human, mixed their blood, and created the first vampire. This proves that humans were around during the time of the Old Ones. He also states that vamps, demons and some magicks are leftovers from the time of the Old Ones.

The Dark Coven is a group that has been around since the time of the Old Ones. They are in allegiance with them, and are currently seeking to free them. In their current incarnation, they are very, very close (comparatively speaking). The Old Ones are sealed away somewhere by a series of extremely intricate locks, well nigh impenetrable. But they actually are already well on their way to opening them.

More than anything else, the DC is a master of manipulation with OODLES of patience. They've been working on freeing the Old Ones since their imprisonment. As is eventually revealed, they have been twisting events with the Scoobies for years, bringing them to the point where the Old Ones are ready to be freed.

When the Old Ones Roamed

They were, quite simply, lords of their domain. They are few in number, but unfathomably powerful. As with many nigh-omnipotent beings, however, they became bored and complacent. They began to tinker with things and began creating demons, unleashing them on the world. The demons, however, were little more than slaves, and no matter how evil, nothing much likes being enslaved. The demons, together with humans (quite possibly including the Shadow Men from "Get it Done") were able to ensnare the Old Ones -- you can't kill them, but they were imprisoned. Once the Old Ones were gone, their power slowly vanished, diminishing their partners/lackies/etc. (like the DC), and leaving the created demons and humans to fight over the rest of the land.

Season 6 Manipulation

The DC, although powerful, are themselves, collectively, unable to open the remaining locks (if they could ever open any at all). However they soon discovered one girl, Willow Rosenberg, who had the innate ability to channel the energies necessary to set things into motion. She just needed the right motivation to get the power.

Exactly how far their manipulation into these events goes, we don't know. What is for certain is that they fixed it so that Tara would be shot and killed by Warren's stray bullet. (The reasoning for this idea: there's absolutely no way the bullet could have possibly killed Tara in the way it did. Warren was in the backyard, running away and shooting upwards. Tara was standing by the bedroom window on the second story. The bullet shot through the glass, and through her, at no angle at all. Obviously in-show this was done for dramatic purposes, but they left a door open for outside creative interpretation and I’m going through it.)

As they knew it would, this prompts Willow to become hell-bent on revenge and absorb enough power to destroy the world. She goes to Kingman's Bluff, raises the effigy of Proserpexa, and begins to funnel her energies into it. Had she done this enough, she would have raised one of the Old Ones herself (or Proserpexa could have take the next step in unlocking one of the doors), however Xander interceded and saved Willow before this could happen.

NOTE: Perhaps Xander's interception is what was actually needed here? I always found it interesting that he completely blocked and seemingly absorbed all that power Willow was throwing at the effigy without even blinking. Was this maybe super-charging him for something? Could this maybe be key to what they will need to save him from later on? (S10 stuff.)

The Proserpexa angle maybe have been removed, but the DC didn't mind -- Willow had now unlocked enough of the power within herself to open another lock.

Season 7 Manipulation

This stems from a whole lot of S7 never really standing up to much scrutiny. Take, for example, the scythe. Caleb and the First spend SO much time and energy in uncovering the scythe, claiming to know how very important it was to NOT allow Buffy & Co. to get it -- when if they hadn't even been trying to get it, Buffy wouldn't have ever known it was there. This in and of itself seems to make ZERO sense, particularly since it never seemed to be that the First could use the scythe himself -- it was all about keeping it from the Slayer. So, very stupid to not only sit on the darned thing, but to ACTIVELY BRING YOUR ENEMIES TO IT (the "trap" in "Dirty Girls" leads Buffy and the Slayers to the vineyard, They never would have bothered going there otherwise).

My reasoning: The First is also an Old One. And he set his plan up specifically to fail. He himself is immortal, he cannot die. And he doesn't really give a crap about ubervamps and Bringers. Their plan all along was to make the Scoobies unleash the scythe to awaken all the Slayers.

Why? As mentioned in "Get it Done", there is a well of Slayer power. That well is usually filled nearly to capacity. It was, after all, only being used by Buffy, and then Faith. The fact that the emergence of a second Slayer did nothing to diminish either's power indicates that it's not shared on that kind of level. In addition, the awakening of all the Slayers at the end of "Chosen" didn't seem to cause any sort of power drain. Instead, we theorize that the well is deep, but has a finite capacity. When Willow did the spell, she in essence pulled the stopper on the well and drained it dry. This well, however, happens to be one of the keys to freeing the Old Ones, and once it drops to a certain level, the "door" that it locks is open.

Moving on -- The Chosen

When Slayers die now, one is not called in their place. There is a finite number of Slayers in the world now. When they die, their Slayerness returns to the well. Only once it reaches a certain level (presumably it's "default" state, pre-spell) will the "natural" process resume. The DC obviously don't want this to happen, as once it "refills" to a certain point, the door will close again. Hence their working with the Assemblage of Merodoch (previously, "Dark Council"); by harnessing and funneling the Slayerness into an already existing Slayer, it does not return to the well, hence no refill.

But that isn't the only reason the DC are working with the Assemblage. The AoM also has another key: an angel that they're keeping chained up in the deepest sublevel of their headquarters. This angel has, perhaps, been around as long as the Old Ones themselves. Perhaps he even aided in imprisoning them. He was captured shortly thereafter, however, and has remained that way ever since (we're talking pretty close to pre-recorded history here, as long as the Slayer line has been in existence, possibly longer).

Idea: The angel can only be freed by a descendant of one who imprisoned him in the first place. Maybe a Giles?

He is a key -- maybe something he says? His true name, perhaps? The DC want him, but the AoM have him and won't give him up. They have said, however, that once Order is restored to the world, they will provide the DC with the means to do whatever they need to do with him. The DC is okay with this -- they're currently getting something from the Council (someone to alert them to the need to funnel Slayer energy and someone to keep all that tiresome business together while they focus on the really important stuff).

Like good ol' Willow Rosenberg.

They call Willow "The Sangerand" ("the bloody"), and they should absolutely not be done with her yet. Willow's independent further role, we don't yet know, but she commands their greatest amount of attention. Her, and Tara. ("The Curat", or "the pure"?)

When they resurrect Tara, it is ostensibly under the guise of killing Willow. However the true reason is to fulfill Tara's part of this prophecy (which includes her death, resurrection and making the choice to not kill Willow), possibly including the sharing of power that Willow will need to do to save them.

Thinking on it, it would be cool to have each Scooby play an important role somehow in all of this. Sort of like their being together in this way was a fated thing. "The Chosen" indeed.

**ADDENDUM** I really like this idea of each Scooby playing a particular role. This could still lead up to the eventual death of Giles, which in and of itself will provide the beginnings of the Coven's downfall. They do whatever they're doing to Xander, which will kill him - but that won't matter because his role in unlocking the door will be done. Will is going to be doing the spell to save him, which will kill her in turn, but that's okay too because her part is also played in releasing the Old Ones. Giles, however, has NOT yet done his part, and he completely surprises everyone when he takes Willow's place, thereby saving both Will and Xander. This totally throws the Coven for a loop, though obviously they must still be able to do what they need to without Giles, else their plans are over with right then and there. It's crucial that his sacrifice NOT be part of the DC's plans, else it takes away from its poignancy.

Will need some sort of prophecy-type thing detailing what is needed to be done to release the Old Ones. Should be nice and vague, but with meaning once you figure it out.

Scooby Designations

Willow: The Sangerand ("the bloody")

Tara: The Curat ("the pure")

Xander: The Vedere ("the sight"), The Asar ("all-seeing eye") -- "The Baani" ("The Architect" - Urdu)

Buffy: The Kusari ("the chain"), The Revenire ("the returned"), The Gula or The Bau ("Lady Who the Dead Bring Back to Life")

Giles: The Verhaal ("the history"), The Shoukin/The Infria, ("redemption"), The Shin'ar ("Land of the Watchers")

Faith: ("the dark"), ("the restrained"), ("the wild")

Dawn: ("the cherished"), ("the gateway"), ("the portal"), ("the key")

The Prophecy

Opening Quatrain

Buffy :: The Trimarga :: Three Path A heartbeat thrice begun A death mark thrice given All roads lead to the town of three When her spilled blood shall spill again

Willow :: The Sangerand :: The Bloody Blood flowing, blood taken Forces awoken, decline and ascent Blood given, life exchanged Freely, she will fall

Xander :: The Baani :: The Builder Grief and rage, life's destruction Mind and body, life's cohesion Heart and spirit, life's devotion Melding, merging; essence anew

Giles :: The Tezan :: The Way Forger of paths, the first and his kin The demon wields the plague of black Summoner, banisher Pierce the barrier, paths renewed

Tara :: The Curat :: The Pure Birth and rebirth, the cycle complete Connected to evil, untainted Power innate and power borrowed Through the light she will free the ancient one

Dawn :: The Amelatu :: The Gatekeeper Living energy made flesh and form Younger in life, older than death Truth altered, life shed And the walls will fall

The Slayer Well Solitary hunter, night's enemy She alone will stand When the well is drained and strength is shared One becomes Many

Closing Quatrain And so it is written Seven locks hold fast The masters expelled, the world cleansed Until the Chosen play their part

Seven keys for seven locks From the first to fall, five score and one If all locks turn, the door lay open And the Old Ones shall reclaim the Earth

Buffy: The Trimarga ("three path" :: the triple path of Knowledge [jnanayoga], Devotion [bhaktiyoga] and Action [karmayoga]). Three times her heart has started beating, three times she's been marked by a vampire (Angel, Dracula and the Vamp Slayer [yet to happen) and in town of threes(??). Something to do with blood - some of it needed to open the lock. Blood of a Slayer is already potent, and Buffy's was obviously enough to close the portal in place of Dawn.

Willow: The Sangerand ("the bloody"). Willow will cast a blood-sacrifice spell, that will enable her to willingly exchange her life for another. It has to be this spell based upon how Mads and the others are killing Xander. Very, very powerful, only she can do it. The flow of the energies will open the lock.

Xander: The Baani ('the builder"). Xander is the "incuabator" for two very powerful magicks. They don't impact him directly, but it is his nature - his very self - that will enable them to merge within him to create something new. The first blast came from Willow on Kingman's Bluff. The second, from the orb destroyed in "Win, Lose or Draw". Madrigan will take Xander around the mid-point of S10 to extract the magicks from him. It will kill him in the process, but that's of little concern.

Giles: The Tezan ("the way"). Giles' role is to obtain a ring that has been in his family for generations upon generations. Unknown to those recently, the jewel of the ring actually contains a demon - a demon that was the original cause of the Black Plague in the 1330's. Giles' ancestor, a powerful warlock for the Council, was the first human to pierce the barrier between this dimension and a demon dimension where he summoned a demon and bound it to his service. The demon was sent to China, where it was supposed to take out a group of other demonic creatures trying to open a Hellmouth there. It did indeed do that, but not before starting the plague. The Council, rather than destroy the ring and banish the creature, said "We'll control it better next time." The ring's purpose was eventually lost,. Giles is supposed to release and then banish the demon, again piercing the dimensional barrier and opening that lock. ** He dies instead, sacrificing himself to save both Willow and Xander. Oops.

Tara: The Curat ("the pure"). Tara's lock will open upon her freeing the Antediluvian. The Antediluvian is an angelic creature that was captured by Robespierre's ancestors. Its imprisonment means the lock is sealed - its freedom opens it. Tara is able to free it due to her lineage as a witch, her purity of spirit, her completed cycle of birth and rebirth, and (by binding with Willow) her immense white magick power creating the necessary conditions. Ruth, Tara's grandmother or great-grandmother, was also thought at one time to have been the Curat, but was not. However she does recognize the qualities within Tara. (Perhaps the Antediluvian, despite its imprisonment being a good thing, can do great good if it's released?)  ** Later in S9, Tara and Co. would have freed the Antediluvian to save Buffy after Yuugana’s attack.

Dawn: The Amelatu ("the gatekeeper"). Dawn herself is able to open the lock. Not a lot of detail here. We'll need to sort out somehow or another that Dawn will do this ... or perhaps she already has? There seems to be little better time for Dawn to have opened the necessary lock than when all the dimensional walls were coming down.

Additional Lock: The well of Slayer power being drained. This was done by Willow in S7, but is not Willow's specific key.

Additional Info: Once any lock falls, there is a "timer" of 100 years for the rest to fall, or they all lock again.

** It may not escape notice that Faith is not part of this prophecy. That became by design, not oversight. I loved how this idea of “The Chosen” worked into the larger series theme, but I also hate the ideas of fate and destiny being controlling factors. Faith was going to be my argument against all that. When all the prophecy pieces were revealed, Faith would (rather defeatedly in her Faith way) note that she had no part to play. But she is the embodiment of being Chosen, as the characters choose to have Faith by their side and fuck prophecy anyway. Their unreserved acceptance of Faith, and Faith’s acceptance of THAT, would have been the culmination of her character arc in S10 (and my series).

S10 Ideas

Something to do with tarot cards, with each member maybe being a particular card?

Several characters get thrown back in time to an earlier season. Dawn especially should go, as she wasn't around then.

stained glass idea. couples. Buffy left free. Valentine's day ep.

"The Impossible Dream" - Man of La Mancha lyrics

Faith having conversation with Kendra -- result of illness, injury, or prophetic dream

** An episode I was definitely going to do, but frustratingly can’t find any notes for (making me feel there must be SOMETHING else out there somewhere but fuck me if I know where) had Willow and Tara going to Los Angels and visiting Lorne’s bar, Caritas.

S10 Ending

Everyone ends on a thematic note, their actions in the final battle bringing together 10 years of development:

Giles's sacrifice makes victory possible - by finally following his heart rather than his duty he saves the world.

Xander, by virtue (and surprise) of simply being Xander, strikes the final blow.

Willow succeeds only by keeping herself in check, refusing to break and believing that she can win.

Buffy's victories come from not only sharing herself (mentally to Willow and physically to Faith and Kennedy) but truly, finally, accepting that she's not in this alone.

Dawn makes the sacrifice she was destined to make from the moment she was created.

Tara is the touchstone, giving the strength and support to everyone else and the lifeline that ultimately saves Dawn.

Faith has no greater role handed to her by fate -- but she's here and kicking ass so screw you, fate.

(work on Kennedy, she ends up fighting w/ Buff and Faith, but does she start there? maybe she and Faith start with Tara and Dawn?)

IDEAS

Seneca final battle. He's winning. Standing over Buffy, gloating smile. Then he finally speaks. Something like, "I've waited a long time to--" Then he gets skewered (Faith or Kennedy, maybe both.) He can't say anything else, just gurgle.  He dies, and the Slayers stand over him.

Buffy: "Blah blah blah. You know, just once I'd like to meet a bad guy who knows how to keep his mouth shut."

Kennedy: "No lie. Still, I wonder what he was going to say?"

Faith: "Who the hell cares?"

Buffy HAS to be part of final Madrigan fight. She goes initially with Xander and Willow. Xander gets struck down by Mads, seemingly dead. Buffy gets nailed too. Willow needs Buffy to get through this though, and Buff gives Will her strength (flashback to "Same Time Same Place" as well as early Chosen w/ Willow and Buffy being so attuned -- see, not a throw-away plot point! Planned all along!) Leads to good "final" conversation/bonding with them as they search for Madrigan in the mental plane.

Earlier in the season, Madrigan extracting the magick from Xander. Very painful for Xander. Madrigan talking to him though, very chatty, very casual. Xander trying to dig for info, Madrigan clearly seeing through it. He likes the cliche though (exposition while acknowledging how clunky and stupid it is to have exposition here). Mads being real bastard (passively though) to Xander this whole time, noting how Xander isn't even really important in and of himself, it's only what others do with him that counts (maybe include little side wink-nudge point, it's what's inside Xander that matters). Mads ends the conversation by apologizing. "Sorry dude, this has gotta suck for you. Hey, you know what I like to do when I'm down? TV! You like 'Murphy Brown'? I've been Netflixing it." He and Seneca proceed to sit down and watch while Xander is essentially tortured behind them. Mads just turns up the volume.

Season 10 Final Fight

Buffy, Kennedy and Faith will go after Seneca.

Willow and Tara will be walking along in the facility when they're attacked. Tara is thrown away from Willow, who is then going to be caught behind an impenetrable shield with Madrigan. He wants to face her alone on an astral plane of sorts. Tara can't join her. Willow is depowered somewhat as a result of the spell she was casting to save Xander. Madrigan wants to fight her, however. Will surprises him - she thought like him and figured he would do this. As a result, Xander is piggy-backing with her, and she's not alone. Madrigan says that he knows Xander, and Xander won't kill him. He's wrong. X: "He don't know me very well, do he?"

Meanwhile, the door to release the Old Ones is opening and they can't stop it. Or they think they can't. Dawn realizes that she, being the Key, can. She begins to do so, but it's taking so much power, it's essentially killing her. Dawn is reverting to pure energy form. Buffy screams at her, tells her not to, but Dawn says she's spent the past five years wondering - feeling, even - that she should've died on that tower. Now she knows that she wasn't supposed to die, she was supposed to live to do this. "This is the job that I have to do." Buffy can't stop her. Tara fights though, won't let Dawn go. Tara eventually passes out and Dawn disappears. The energy is gone and so is Dawn, but the door is closed and locked again.

Not long after, Buffy goes home. Willow and Xander are with Tara at the hospital (she’s drained but okay). Buffy seems to be alone. She's completely dispirited - Dawn is dead. She enters her room, only to find Dawn there. B: "What are you doing here?" Shades of Dawn's first appearance. Turns out (as we'll learn in the final episode) that Dawn has given up all of her Key powers - for real this time. She is now, completely and utterly, a very real, very normal girl.

** And finally, I give you all with this. It’s a rough sketch of the scene after Giles has died, so would have come about 2/3rd of the way through Season 10. I wrote this in 2004, about a week after the death of my grandfather. I like to think that, if I’d gotten that far, this would have been one of those moments that would have stuck with you. I certainly would’ve tried.

Giles Death Reactions

These are a sequence of silent scenes.

We first see Faith in a darkened training room. She's punching a punching bag.

We're in Giles loft, the lights all dark. The door opens, and Hannah's standing there, on the threshold. She doesn’t enter.

We're in a hospital, private room. There are two beds. The one on the far left contains Xander. He looks gaunt, pale, near death. But breathing. His heart monitor gives a steady readout. Dawn sits next to him, inbetween the two beds. Tears are streaming down her cheeks – simply falling, she's not sobbing. She watches Xander with a fearful, worried expression, then turns to the next bed. There's Willow, also pale and drawn. She doesn't look well either, though not quite as bad as Xander. Tara sits on the other side of the bed, as close to it as she can possibly get. One of Willow's hands is held up in both of hers, Willow's fingers resting on Tara's lips. Tara's eyes are red – she's obviously been crying too. She meets Dawn's gaze. Neither smile.

We're in Giles' office. Buffy is standing in the doorway. Her face is blank.

We're back in the loft, Hannah's position mirroring Buffy's. She walks inside and finds herself drawn toward Giles' stereo system. She runs her hands over the CD collection, full of albums and songs from their past.

Faith's punching of the bag increases. She's venting, her jabs more vicious, more focused. Over her shoulder, we see Kennedy watching.

The hospital. Dawn runs a hand through her hair and wipes her eyes after watching Xander intently. She turns to Willow and watches as Willow opens her eyes and blinks. Dawn watches in surprise, and Willow seems to sense the scrutiny. She turns to Dawn and smiles – just a small smile, a pained one, but it's something. Dawn's face breaks into an expression of pure joy and relief, and she says something. Tara has either been locked in thought or asleep, Willow's hand clutched to her forehead, but her head jerks up at Dawn's words. She focuses on Dawn for the briefest of moments before her eyes go back to Willow. Willow is already looking at her, and she smiles again, a bit stronger this time. Willow says something too, and it causes Tara to laugh. The laugh turns into a sob of relief though, and Tara kisses Willow's hand several times then leans over and kisses her forehead. Will is weak, but is able to give Tara a one-armed hug, kissing her on the cheek, then turning to Dawn and extending her other arm. Dawn is there in a heartbeat, also crying in relief.

Giles' office. Almost trancelike, Buffy moves further into the darkened office, which is lit only by the lamp on the desk. As she walks, her eyes are drawn to things. The rows and rows of books that Giles surrounded himself with. The bookcases that Xander built, not only filled with books but also decorated with knickknacks – various small statues and effigies and an Owl plushie. She looks to the opposite wall, where hangs a variety of pictures, but dominating them all, easily the biggest and with the proudest placement, is a picture of Giles, snapped at a moment none of them were expecting. He was obviously the victim of a random group hug attack – Buffy, Willow, Xander, Tara and Dawn, all hugging him fiercely. Giles has that look on his face where he's trying hard to be annoyed with them, but is secretly loving every moment. Buffy's movement into the office hasn't halted, hasn't slowed from its already snail's pace. She's at the desk now. Bathed in the warm glow of the lamp, she sees a cup of tea, only half-drunk, as though Giles will be returning any moment to finish it. Most prominent, however, are the sealed envelopes on the desk, several of them, each bearing a name. We see Buffy's name on the top one, and can see hints of other's beneath: Willow, Xander, etc. Giles' glasses rest nearby.

Faith is almost in a frenzy of kicks and punches now. Her teeth are clenched and she looks like she wants nothing more than to have the bag turn into the Grim Reaper himself so she can pound the crap out of him. A hand rests on her shoulder, and Faith whirls around to see Kennedy there. Faith looks like she might just start beating the shit out of Kennedy as well, but then Kennedy takes Faith's hand and puts a stake in it. Faith looks down at it questioningly, then looks to Kennedy. Kennedy holds up her own stake. Faith's eyes narrow and she nods, just slightly.

Hannah's by the window in Giles' loft, simply looking out, looking at nothing in particular. She hugs herself and her head drops as she starts to softly cry.

In the hospital room, Willow casts an anxious look at Xander still motionless in his bed. She looks first to Dawn, then Tara, who says something that causes Willow to relax considerably. She smiles, but soon realizes her smiles aren't being returned. She again looks questioningly from one to the other, but neither speak. She's getting really worked up now, scared, and Dawn starts to say something. She doesn't get far, though, before she can't speak any more. Willow turns immediately to Tara, who picks up where Dawn left off. Willow watches, still afraid. Then the fear turns to disbelief. She's starting to cry now and she shakes her head in denial. She looks to Dawn, looking for someone to tell her that what she's heard isn't true, but Dawn can only cry. Willow looks back to Tara again and says something, begging for it not to be true. Tara can only look at her with sympathy and matching pain as Willow dissolves into tears.

Giles office. Buffy is sitting in the corner, her back against the wall, curled in on herself. We can't see her face, but her shaking shoulders tell us all we need to know. She's hugging the Owl plushie for dear life. 

CUT TO BLACK

** And that, my friends, is that.

[my-little-dumpster-fire]

Let it Burn. 3/?

Catch Up Here

P A R T   T H R E E

A week after your first date, if you could call it that, an unknown number rang over and over again until you could no longer fight the urge to answer it.

“Hey, it’s Billy. Russo. Billy Russo. From dinner.” Is it that hard to admit you have a soulmate, Russo?

You never asked Billy how he got your phone number, never had the desire to. You met up again, trying for lunch this time and again it decent. Some of the magic had worn off the second Billy thrust you into a cab, effectively ending the first non-date, and now it felt like catching up between two old friends, despite the fact it was only your second time intentionally meeting up.

He’d been spending his days meeting with more investors, all of which seemed to have gone successfully, signing the deed to his first warehouse, as he assured you Anvil would quickly outgrow the shell he purchased, working odd jobs about which he never went into detail, glossing over your skeptical looks with extra charm, and working night and day to connect with his chosen team, the backs upon which Anvil’s reputation would be built. Part of you wanted to tell Billy that he was working too hard, but it would have fallen on willingly deafened ears. He was a hungry dog, who’d caught his scent and could practically taste the reality that he was building for himself. His determination was admirable, his work ethic was enviable, his focus and enthusiasm when talking about the project was unwavering. Just like the Corps had been before, Anvil was Billy’s life. You were just his soulmate, a nonessential on his journey to becoming the Billy Russo he wanted to see in his mirror. The Billy Russo that would be known, respected, and powerful.

Everything about Billy Russo was sinful. His new wealth. His looks. The way violence seemed to follow him. The Machiavellian way his ends always justified his means. His cavalier attitudes toward life and love. You often found yourself wondering how someone without the hint of a soul at all could be the other half of your own, but the connection was undeniable. It was as intoxicating as they said it would be and it was infuriating to admit, so you simply didn’t. When your friends asked what it was like to be paired with someone well on their way to becoming New York’s most eligible bachelor, you shrugged. Despite your souls supposedly being made for one another, you found quickly that you simply did not fit into Billy Russo’s life style or his now incredibly active schedule. Between planning and pushing for the start up security company he was slaving over and Billy’s insatiable need to occupy himself with the flavor of the week, there was very little time left for a soulmate.

Though you could see the loneliness in his eyes, you didn’t press him on the subject. Hadn’t anybody told him about the benefits of quality over quantity? Still, the two of you met up whenever he had time, his schedule the more demanding of the two, his mood the more fickle. You shared space, shared meals, shared more and more of yourself as the days went by and the rhythm you fell into was incredibly comfortable. You started to understand this self proclaimed mystery man and while his gratitude was mostly silent, you felt it in his willingness to share words with you that you assumed would not otherwise see the light of day or reach another’s ears.

The locations for your non dates changed dramatically after the first, but you never objected. The new places that Billy dragged you were much more your speed and honestly, seemed more like his. The kind of haunts that he actually enjoyed, not the stuffy dining room with the gold matchbooks that seemed so out of character for a man like Billy, even with his exciting new business prospects. The restaurants, bars, and cafes you sat in now made you feel like you were actually seeing Billy, not the Billy that someone else told him he should be.

One such meal, after an unnecessarily thorough explanation of why women were good for a couple weeks before he became a ghost, evaporating into thin air while his phone lit up with all sorts of unsavory names and ill wishes, Billy leaned back in his chair with a damn near devilish smirk on his face. The candle on the table between you danced in the reflection of his black eyes, while his lips curled subtly in the corner and his arms crossed in front of his chest. One elbow propped against his other arm to support the weight of his chin in his hand while a single long finger rested straight up next to his nose and drew your attention to the furrow in his brow but also the subtle birthmark just below his eye. He was easily the most beautiful man you’d ever had the pleasure of sharing a meal with, but the heated look in his eye was not for you, at least not at first. He was testing you. The meal neared it’s end and the bottle of wine he ordered was only half spent, but nowadays honesty flowed without the assistance of the spirit and for that you were thankful. He eyed you mercilessly, waiting for the soulmate to comment on his newly honed ability to live extravagantly or his disinterest in ceasing his other intimate activities just because of your existence. God made him that way for a reason and it was merely his duty to share the wealth, he’d insist while gesturing down at himself with a smile that offered life and death in equal measure.

In the weeks you’d known Billy, you learned that no reaction was better than an over reaction, especially in those moments when he was testing you, waiting for you to slip and reveal that you were just like all the others. So you leaned back, matching his posture, and said, “It’s your life, Billy. I wouldn’t ask you to change anything about it.” You took a deep breath and met his dark, but wavering gaze. “I’m here now and I’ll still be here when you...I don’t know, I’ll just still be here, okay?” You weren’t sure what you were trying to say or if it was even the right thing to say, but you hoped that Billy heard the sincerity in it.

His genuine surprise at your response told you all you needed to know. Other women, women not meant for him, would try to change him and maybe they already had. You imagined that eventually they made it clear that they expected more from him, expected dedication and monogamy from him, made careless ultimatums that only served to end whatever brief tryst they engaged in. Other women pushed Billy away in their desperate attempts to draw him close, apparently unaware or purposefully ignorant to what you saw in his eyes.

Billy Russo was like a flame, useful, comforting, a shining light in the darkest places merely to illuminate not to correct. He and the flames was everything you needed, but if you got to close, you’d get burned. Or worse yet, if you attempted to caged him in, the lack of oxygen would snuff him out completely until all that was left was a tendril of smoke, a ghost of the flame you once tried to capture. Fire cannot be owned and neither could Billy. Though you suspected that his appetite for survival never let anyone get close enough to think they could cage him in. On one hand, you respected it and would never ask Billy to be someone he wasn’t. One the other, you pitied it and wished deep down that one day he wouldn’t view you as another potential cage, but maybe as the kindling to keep the fire alive.

Much to your surprise, and your unspoken delight, the meals you two shared increased in frequency. Perhaps he saw something in you that he desired more of, though you were certain it wasn’t what you originally hoped. But to be desired at all by Billy Russo was enough to keep you accepting his invitations. He was the kind of man that you felt you needed to thank for his eyes falling on you, rather than the other way around. So most of your meals together went like that. Sitting across from each other, not touching, while Billy tried to scare you, prove his own theories that even a soulmate would not be able to handle the shadowy recesses he knew resided within. There were few things in the world he loved as much as being right.

In only a couple weeks time, you knew more about Billy Russo than anyone and to some extent you knew that it scared him. He’d never admit to the fear, especially of a woman like you, but you saw the practically physical discomfort as he realized how much of himself he trusted -no, not trust- as he realized how much of himself you willingly carried with you, without judgment and without expectation. He’d done the work of squashing any expectation you held for the relationship as early as your first meeting, but you kept coming back. It was too much for him sometimes, most times really, and he’d abandon ship in the middle of a sentence, eyes searching yours for any trace of a future betrayal, but finding none, he’d pull his phone from his pocket. With the screen still obviously dark, he’d say he needed to accept a call and wander off to do so. Mere minutes later, some woman would make a show of being led out of the restaurant by the handsome Billy Russo, proudly putting herself on display. While his face revealed only the desire to slip away into the shadows, his perfect posture and guiding hand on her lower back as he strut alongside her told the rest of the restaurant a very different story. You’d ask for the check, only to find that it was already taken care of, sometimes a dessert already boxed and on its way over to you, as you watched your soulmate’s eyes fall on you one last time before disappearing into the night with someone else.

You expected the invitations for meals to stop eventually, but they never did. They’d pause for a couple days at most, before Billy’s voice was back in your ear, confident, flirtatious, informing you that he had room to fit you in over a long lunch. You hated yourself for how quickly you accepted, hated the idea of being at his beck and call, but it was painfully obvious that your innocent rejection of a meal or day out with Billy would never be perceived as innocent. Key word, painfully. It seemed that after every walk out, you started from ground zero all over again. His accent would be thick, his smile sardonic, his posturing cocky, seated practically sideways in a metal chair outside one of his favorite lunch spots, ankle perched on one knee while the other knee rested gently against the metal arm of the chair. He’d draw his water glass to his lips, licking them as he scrutinized you, head to toe. It was rather unsettling the first few times, even still it wound you up in the most confusing yet comforting ways. Most men had not the balls to observe a woman so obviously and so shamelessly, but Billy Russo wasn’t most men. He’d take his time and his efforts to shake you with his glare was only met -perhaps rewarded, even reinforced- by your effort to look your best on days you saw Billy. The more his eyes roamed, the more yours did in the bathroom mirror, forsaking your own shame or girlish embarrassment to make sure he had something nice for his eyes to fall on.

After his subtle acceptance of you, really your appearance, with a grin and a nod, the testing started all over again. He’d share a little about the woman he left with and you hated how thankful you were to be spared the more intimate details. You had no idea what he was waiting for, what he was expecting from you, but apparently you never gave it to him, not that you were aware of. You kept your mouth shut for the most part, listened while he spoke, occasionally catching the fierce look in his eye, practically daring you to hold his gaze as if what looked back at you would send you running. Often you didn’t indulge. The casual snappy banter you two shared would fall away, make space in the air for whatever game he was playing. You stayed focused on your meal, letting your eyes drift casually upwards to settle on the birthmark you loved, but sometimes, on days you felt brave, or maybe the subtle burn in your chest while he described yet another woman was some other affliction that only mimicked bravery, you met his stare head on. Look if you have to, you told him silently with your eyes, you won’t find what your looking for. You didn’t balk, didn’t shy away, and you knew that frustrated Billy to no end. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like seeing his own stubbornness thrown across the table at him. He’d shift in his seat, realizing how closely he’d leaned over toward you, and rest again, smirking as if he won, perhaps trying to convince himself that he had. You weren’t so easily fooled and as your eyes dropped away again, you’d look up to watch the relief come over him, like the end of your staring contest had unexpectedly zapped the energy from him.

You imagined it had, but soon enough he’d be back to talking, sharing something about the progress of Anvil or most recently the return of one of his Marine buddies, Frank Castle. There wasn’t an invitation attached to the announcement, there weren’t even details surrounding their friendship, but it was the first person that Billy spoke about with anything other than disdain. Frank was important to him, that was all you knew and for now, that was all you needed to know. By the time you’d resigned to let Frank Castle remain a mystery, Billy had moved on to another topic and the two of you fell back into quiet laughter and eye rolling over differing opinions.

The first time Billy invited you to his apartment, it scared you. He didn’t sound like himself. Normally his phone calls were quick, telling you a time and a place, but that place was always neutral ground. You never expected to be asked to come over, definitely not so late and definitely not when Billy’s voice shook, when he lingered on the line longer than usually, when he told you not to bother knocking. The circumstances were strange and you had no idea what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t what you found.

You entered Billy’s apartment gingerly, taking care to close the door behind and deposit the key that the night guard handed you upon your arrival. It was dark, the living room only barely illuminated by the lights outside, yet as easily as you would have at high noon, your eyes found Billy. He was sitting in a chair and, he wasn’t looking good.

“Have you ever done anything...that you knew....that you knew you’d never be forgiven for?”

Billy’s question came out of nowhere and the gravity, weighing down both his voice and his shoulders, sank like a hot rock in your gut. You stepped forward slowly, watching carefully for any sign of life, but Billy was little more than a statue, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin perched on his thumbs. His eyes, surprisingly expressive for as dark as they were, looked through you when you moved to stand in front of him.

“No,” you answered solemnly, but honestly. Billy’s eyes closed, unable to look at you, not that he really had been before. “And neither have you.”

Your strange addition caught Billy off guard. He was visibly shaken before, but it was your bold move to sit in his lap that left Billy almost adorably startled. His body stiffened, not that a woman in his lap was a foreign feeling, but this particular woman had never seated herself across his thighs, so close to parts of his body you had to tell yourself not to be concerned with. Your arms rested against his shoulders and reflexively his hands found your waist, stroking your sides with a gentleness you only speculated he could possess, never having witnessed it for yourself. With your fingers pulling through the hair at the back of his neck, you looked down to meet his growing confusion head on.

“Neither have you,” You repeated firmly. Billy ignored the sentiment, shaking his head in vehement denial, but when he opened his mouth to correct you, to prove that once again he knew better, you didn’t let him. “There’s nothing you can do that I wouldn’t forgive, Billy Russo.”

“That was before-“ he started, head still shaking and his eyes still down.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you said again, slower this time and singing the truth into his soul. “That I won’t forgive, Billy. I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but you will always have me.” His eyes were wide and you watched his Adam’s apple jolt heavenward, swallowing your words and clearly struggling to decide if they were believable. This is a bad idea, you warned yourself, but you were already leaning in. For the briefest moment, Billy’s face tilted up in expectation, just a reflex, you told yourself as you gripped the hair on the back of his neck to hold his face still. Your lips met his forehead and rested there as his body went from stock still, to nervously squirming, to completely at ease. You couldn’t even imagine how his face was responding below your eye-line as you felt his brow furrow before fluttering into relaxation under your lips. You pulled back slightly and Billy leaned in again as if chasing the sensation. Just a reflex, you reminded yourself as you willingly complied, kissing his face again.

You hadn’t even noticed that his hands were gripping your sides with opposing hands. His arms wound and crossed behind your back until you two were locked in a much more meaningful embrace than you originally had planned. Though every embrace was more meaningful with Billy and fighting that seemed a futile attempt at this point. A muted gasp felt warm against your chest, reminding you what brought you to his apartment and to this position. Billy had done something, something that very well could be unforgivable, and yet you assured him that you would. Not that you were naive enough to believe that he’d ever tell you what it was. His face was pressed against your chest and you silently promised him that you’d never bring up the tear you felt sliding against your skin. He would never thank you for mentioning it, nor would he thank you for not mentioning it. All the same, it was your secret to bear, burning a wet trail between your breasts until it disappeared. Long moments passed, silence wrapped around you two like a heavy blanket, protecting the moment from the cold air of your previous expectations. A single moment couldn’t replace the delicate relationship you two had built. It was a veritable house of cards that a single ill timed hiccup could tear down, let alone a moment of intimacy that shouldn’t have existed between you two.

“A lesser man would use this moment to point out that your chest makes an amazing pillow,” he said suddenly. There he is, you smiled.

“And a lesser woman would point out the depth of mommy issues that are hidden in that statement,” you countered, holding the back of his neck as his laughter vibrated against you. Billy leaned back first, looking up at you, eyes lit up with something so close to affection you suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Aside from the slight movement to seek your face, he made no attempts to pull away from you, so you continued running your fingers through his hair, daring to capture the surprisingly silky feel for a few moments longer.

“Guess I should be glad we’re us then,” he offered with a smirk. Us. Can we even call ourselves an us?

“Yeah,” you returned casually, removing yourself from his lap. There was a moment of resistance, a moment of brief hesitation, where you felt Billy’s fingers dig into your skin to hold you in place. You felt his palms flatten against you as if he needed more of him to feel more of you, but so gentle you could feel his unwillingness to cross that line. You felt the muscles of his arms tense, becoming a cage you wouldn’t be able to release yourself from. Not that you’d want to. As quickly as the moment came, it was gone and you were walking toward the kitchen again, back turned to Billy as you told yourself you’d imagined his reluctance to let you go, even if it was just for a second.

One glorious second where you felt your desire returned.

@something-tofightfor @actuallyazriel @cerezahowl @littlemermaidprobz

[thesinglesjukebox]

NORMANI - MOTIVATION

[6.94]

Then again, we might have discovered some get-up-and-go...

Josh Buck: In a single four-minute clip that plays like the arthouse version of the reference-heavy "thank u, next" video, Normani decisively earns her mononym. [9]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: Once, the great TSJ writer Josh Winters said that Normani would be the Dawn Richard of Fifth Harmony, and man, "Motivation" just proves him right. [8]

Alfred Soto: What a powerful track: the Fifth Harmony singer chooses a falsetto floating above the whomping beats just enough for us to hear how the beats toughen her and her falsetto lightens them. To record an empowerment track that abjures self-help nostrums is deserving of a nineteen-week stay at #1. [9]

Alex Clifton: As someone who came of age in the 2000s, I remember a time when the radio played good R&B to dance to; it was the soundtrack of every bar mitzvah and prom I attended. There's been a dearth of those sorts of songs since -- we've had some EDM bangers, but I've longed for a song that was less like a rave and more like a late summer block party. This is everything I could've wanted: the best song Beyoncé never released, a powderkeg of energy and fun that overwhelms and delights. The video choreography is already classic (I've been thinking about the basketball-bounce move for a week solid), I anticipate seeing this memed to death, and I'll enjoy every variant I see of it. Moreover, it's so wonderful to see Normani finally get a song where she can let loose -- rather than "Love Lies," which I found rather wet, "Motivation" is an actual showcase of Normani's talent. We're witnessing the bona fide birth of a star. [10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: An iconic video with beautiful representation and killer choreography, a cast of A-list songwriters all bringing their A-game, and a song sturdy enough to back it all up: "Motivation" is nothing less than the birth of Normani as a star. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: The fact that the Normani Starmaking Apparatus wasn't cranked into gear for the ludicrously underrated "Waves" but for this midtier 3LW song is baffling. It's "Check On It" when the moment calls for "Crazy in Love"; it's Kelly Rowland's "Motivation," i.e., managed expectations. [4]

Tobi Tella: Everyone is begging and clamoring for Normani to happen, and while I have nothing against her, I'm not sure why? Maybe it's because I don't look on the days of Fifth Harmony with fond memories, or maybe it's all of her previous singles being generic midtempos. She has a nice enough voice but I just don't know if the it-factor is there somewhere, because it's certainly not in "Motivation." It's definitely fun and upbeat, and the 2000s noisy R&B pop intro gave me nostalgia for an older, tackier time, but everything about "Motivation" is too safe. The instrumental is nice but never really gets to the next level, the lyrics are beyond empty outside of slang, and there's nothing in the vocal performance that makes me want to call her out as the new superstar of our time. Props for the music video though -- I'd definitely play an only-Normani Just Dance. [5]

Jessica Doyle: Something about this song isn't clicking for me, in a very fundamental way: the stutter of the background feels at odds, uncomfortably, with the rhythm of her voice. Watching the video didn't help: it felt like the choreography was designed for yet a third different song. I tried to concentrate on her voice alone, but then got distracted by wondering why the decision was made to draw on the final n in "motivation" but speed through consonants during the verses. "Dancing with a Stranger" drove me nuts because Normani was so good and everything else was so mushy, and now even when she's solo, there's all this noise (rather than song) getting in the way. I want her next song to be a simple power ballad, and I don't even like simple power ballads. [4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A lot of excitement over an Ariana Grande b-side, huh [4]

Kylo Nocom: Chirpy Dangerous Woman kitsch-pop that makes me happy in a way music hasn't in a long time. All music will henceforth be rated on whether it would be improved with a brass band breakdown or not. [7]

Will Adams: The impressive video helps loads; without it I find myself checking Spotify to make sure I'm not listening to Ariana. [4]

Joshua Copperman: The video is so clearly a [10], Dave Meyers finally forgoing special effects extravaganzas for something nostalgic that invites viewers into the celebration, rather than pushing them away in smug "you had to be there" (or "I had to be there") fashion. It props up the song, which has some already-iconic moments like the horn riff and the meme-in-waiting "it ain't regular, that ain't regular" but can't quite capture the same energy. A lot of this is due to how sparse the song is; the a cappella "think about it, ooh, I think about it" repeating at 1:52 and 2:37 shows a strange lack of creativity in the arrangement. With the video, those things can be forgiven, but there's not nearly enough nuance or detail in the production or even the lyrics to make this a vital listen on its own. [6]

Joshua Lu: I can't shake the feeling that this is something I would find 30 songs deep into an algorithm-generated workout playlist, but regardless it's refreshing to hear Normani emerge so fully realized after years of unthreatening collaborations. Let's savor this moment before she's forced to work with Zedd or whoever. [6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Normani talks about giving us "innovation" but she's really doing everything but that here -- "Motivation" is a combined-arms formation of nostalgic R&B tropes, leaving behind the smooth, boring ballads that her first few solo singles trafficked in for something much higher energy. There's nothing really new here but Normani makes a compelling argument that there doesn't need to be -- to witness her at the head of the ersatz marching band is spectacular enough, she seems to claim. "Motivation" is a pop jam designed to show off its performer as a student of the game -- Ariana's co-write is painfully obvious, and the overall Beyoncé-ness of it all is a little on the nose. But the joy of "Motivation" is that it's a lot of fun even when you can see the machinery. [8]

Nortey Dowuona: I have nothing to really say except: if Normani isn't the artist my (imaginary) niece names as her inspiration to pursue pop music, we have failed as a species. (Also, The Dancing is Better than that other guy.) [10]

Vikram Joseph: "Motivation" just refuses to sit still. It snaps, fizzes, sways, pops, bounces off every wall in the building. It's an unadulterated hit of pure summer that makes me want to dance in ways that would be deeply ill-advised for me to attempt. It's incredibly immediate and possesses at least two instantly iconic pop moments ("ain't regular, that ain't regular!" and that sweet, delirious trumpet hook), and yet it's sonically rich and intensely intricate. It's irresistible, and really, why would you want to resist this? [9]

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