#i’ve been very very focused only on reading Worm and a few other books that i haven’t even watched Judgement yet :(

[ghxstkn1fe]

i just woke up in the middle of the night, started immediately like catastrophising because that’s just what my brain does. and then, not 30 seconds into it, the concept of Jay Ferin was inserted into my mind. i instantly felt better. she’s like my guardian angel <3

[bluejayblueskies]

for the kiss prompts: how about 22 for jonmartin!

22 - sad kiss

i’ve already done a pre-unknowing jmart fic, but i will never have enough of the idea that they tell each other how they feel before jon leaves, so here we are. takes place right before jon leaves for Great Yarmouth

cw for mentions of jon’s circus kidnapping (including mentions of skinning, non-consensual touching, and being tied up) and mentions of canon-typical worms 

.

Jon’s leg bounces up and down, drumming out a staccato rhythm on the stone floor beneath his desk. His hands shake, ever so slightly.

 He looks at his phone, the LED display harsh and grating on his eyes, before locking it again.

 One hour.

 He waits a few seconds before reflexively checking his phone again, like the time’s somehow changed between then and now and he’ll have missed the bus that will take him to the train that will take him to—

 Jon sets his phone down hard on the desk, screen facing down.

 He doesn’t want to go. It’s a childish thought—one he tries hard to suppress—but here, alone and waiting and resisting the urge to check his phone again, he can’t quite push it away.

 I don’t want to go back.

 He remembers the bite of rope against his wrists, turning his fingers numb and leaving him with angry red welts that, even now, haven’t healed quite right. They’d dug into the tender skin of his right hand, covered in fresh burn tissue, and he’d tried to ignore the pain, focusing instead on the sweltering heat that stuck his shirt to his chest and the headache that never quite seemed to go away.

 He hadn’t been able to ignore it when hard, unyielding hands had undone the ropes and held him tight and dug pointy, plastic fingers coated with oily lotion into the skin of his palm. He’d cried the first few times, out of pain more than anything. Then, he’d almost grown numb to it. Which he’s pretty sure is worse.

 He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he’s inside the museum again. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to look at it without remembering placidly smiling faces and crooning voices and promises that he wouldn’t miss his skin, not really. That he’d have the perfect voice to sing as the world changed. That he didn’t deserve skin that he’d taken care of so poorly, so irresponsibly.

 He’d hated the sensation of lotion on his hands, even before. Now, the thought of it makes him ill. He tries not to think about it.

 He can’t stop thinking about it.

 His knee bounces quicker and his fingers drum in time with it on the desk. He resists for a moment more before picking up his phone and checking the time.

 Fifty-eight minutes.

 The clock has reached the forty-minute mark when there’s a soft knock on his door, one that startles him more than he’d care to admit. “Jon?” a voice calls, and Jon feels relief and anxiety overcome him in equal measure. “Are… are you there?”

 It takes him a few seconds to get his voice to work. “Yes, I… you can come in.”

 After a moment, the door creaks open—I should oil the hinges, he thinks absently—and Martin steps through the doorway, lingering on the threshold for a moment before moving past it and shutting the door behind him. For a moment, they’re both silent; Jon thinks it should feel oppressive, what with… everything, but it doesn’t. It feels almost comfortable, like a hand on the small of his back and a warm cup of tea pressed into his hands and a takeout container of Paneer Shahi Korma on the corner of his desk. Then, haltingly, Martin says, “I… I guess I just wanted to say good luck? For- for what it’s worth.”

 Jon doesn’t feel particularly lucky. Still, he gives Martin a tired smile and says, “Thank you, I suppose. Er… you as well? Your plan requires significantly more… strategy.”

 Martin laughs, an uncomfortable noise. “Yeah, well. No more so than trying to blow up an eldritch circus during their attempt to end the world, so…”

 He trails off, and Jon shifts in his chair. He notes, distantly, that his leg has stopped bouncing, though his fingers still tap tap tap against the desk. “Yes, I- I suppose so.”

 Martin’s face twists, his lips parting like he’s about to speak. Then, he seems to think better of it and gives Jon a forced smile. “Well, I- I guess I’ll leave you to- to pack or what have you. Don’t want to make you miss your train, after all, that- that would be quite bad, wouldn’t it?”

 Martin takes a step backwards towards the door, and Jon is seized by the sudden, intense thought of no, don’t go.

 “No, you- you don’t have to…” Jon’s leg bounces again a few times, and he hesitates only a moment before saying, “Could you stay? I- I don’t particularly… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

 It’s vulnerable, the words sticky on his tongue but easier to say than he’d thought they would be. And it’s worth it when Martin’s face relaxes into relief and he says, “Yeah, of- of course. I… I don’t want to be alone either, I suppose.”

 He settles in the chair on the other side of Jon’s desk, and Jon’s reminded, ridiculously, of the time Martin had stumbled into his office, slamming a hastily taped-over tin can onto Jon’s desk.

 Fresh Peaches, the can had proclaimed cheerily. The things that writhed and squirmed inside were distinctly not peaches.

 They make their way through halting conversation for a few minutes before it settles into something easier. Martin talks about the dog he’d seen on his commute the other day and the old lady who lives in the flat next to him who likes to bake him cookies and the plants he’s starting to grow on his kitchen windowsill. Jon talks about America—the parts that weren’t laced with terror—and the newest book he’s somehow found time to read and the stray cat he’s seen near his building a few times, now that he’s not staying with Georgie anymore.

 It’s only until Jon thinks to check his phone again that he realizes he has fifteen minutes left. At ten, he’ll have to make the short walk to the bus stop with the bag he’s checked over five times to ensure that he hasn’t forgotten anything and endure Tim’s tense hostility, Basira’s quiet indifference, and Daisy’s sharp eyes and sharper teeth for several hours.

 I don’t want to go.

 I don’t want to leave.

 I don’t want to leave him.

 “Jon?” Martin says, forehead creased in concern. “What’s wrong?” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before saying, quietly, “Is… is it time?”

 Jon nods mutely. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping his phone, and all he can think is I don’t have enough time.

 He doesn’t know when, exactly, he started noticing the way Martin’s cheeks dimple when he smiles and the way his jumpers bunch up around his wrists and the way his voice softens whenever he talks about the people he cares about. He doesn’t know when he started thinking about Martin when he wakes up and on his morning commute and while brushing his teeth and every moment in between. He doesn’t know when the thought of Martin smiling at him or bringing him lunch or brushing his hand against Jon’s arm first made his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

 He doesn’t know when, exactly, he realized that he’s a little bit in love with Martin Blackwood. He thinks it might have been around thirty-two minutes, when Martin had laughed at one of Jon’s awkward jokes and he’d tucked the sound away forever in the section of his mind labeled Martin Blackwood and thought, I want to kiss him.

 “Jon?” Martin repeats, and Jon realizes he’s been quiet for quite some time. Martin is looking at him with brown eyes wide with concern and his hand is resting on the edge of Jon’s desk and god, Jon wants to kiss him.

 He doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance.

 Jon stands before he makes the conscious decision to do so, and he makes his way around his desk, his hands shaking and his heart tight in his chest. This might be it, he thinks, even as his hand comes down to gently cup Martin’s cheek before stalling just shy of his skin, fingers curling inward in hesitation. This might be all we get.

 “Jon?” Martin says, his voice very small.

 “I…” Jon looks away from Martin for a moment, a familiar instinct within him telling him to pull away. To not bare himself like this, to not wear his heart on his sleeve. Then, he looks back and meets Martin’s eyes and pushes past the lump in his throat enough to say, “I… I don’t want to go. Not- not without…” His voice breaks, and he moves his hand the rest of the way until his knuckles brush against the line of Martin’s jaw, feeling Martin’s startled exhalation against the skin of his wrist.

 “Is this okay?” Jon says quietly.

 Mutely, Martin nods.

 “Okay,” Jon whispers. He’s short enough and Martin tall enough that even with Martin sitting, the height difference is small enough that he only has to lean down a bit to press his lips gently against Martin’s. They’re dry, a bit cracked near the middle where Martin has a tendency to bite them, and Jon commits the feeling to memory. His other hand comes up to cup Martin’s face, and Martin sighs against his mouth before moving his hands to Jon’s waist and resting there lightly. It’s so lovely that Jon wants to cry.

 When he pulls back, it’s too soon. But he has eleven minutes sitting in the back of his mind, and he needs to leave, and he doesn’t want to go.

 Selfishly, he wishes Martin were coming with him. He knows it’s safer here; he doesn’t have any delusions that they’ll all make it out of the Unknowing unscathed. But he wishes it all the same.

 “Jon…” Martin says softly, and Jon captures the way Martin says his name—like it’s something delicate, something to be treasured—and holds it close. Martin’s thumbs sweep gently over Jon’s hip bones before his hands move up and settle on the small of Jon’s back. Then, he stands and pulls Jon into a tight hug. “Promise you’ll come back,” he whispers, his hands twisting in the loose fabric of Jon’s shirt. “Please, promise you’ll- you’ll be safe.”

 Jon rests his head in the space underneath Martin’s chin and says, “I can’t promise that, Martin. I- I wish I could, but… I can’t.”

 Martin’s quiet for a moment. Then, he squeezes Jon a little tighter, buries his nose in Jon’s hair, and says, “Okay.” A pause. Then: “I- I promise I’ll be safe. For what it’s worth.”

 Jon lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you. I…”

 I love you.

 “I’m glad.”

 Jon makes it to the bus stop with a minute to spare. Tim barely looks at him before turning his gaze back towards the road. Basira offers a short, perfunctory greeting but nothing more. Jon doesn’t look at Daisy.

 He already misses him. It eats an aching hole in his chest as he steps onto the bus, and as the doors close behind him, he tells himself that he’ll be coming back.

 He wishes he could find the heart to believe it.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

[bazzybelle]

Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt22

hello!!! thank you all for your very kind words i super appreciate you :) happy reading! (u ask i deliver) 

pt1

pt21

pt23

A lot of her time was spent enduring criticism from generals, noblemen, and other advisors on how to run the country. Each idea she had was continuously shot down. She knew they were only taking advantage of Zuko’s absence, but their blind defiance of her made her angry. She was only trying to help! Why couldn’t they see that?

The exciting things always seemed to happen while (Y/N) was asleep. She woke to a commotion happening outside of her door. Blinking the sleepiness from her eyes, she slipped on her robe and slippers and peered her head outside of her room. She watched Azula dart past and Zuko running closely after her. (Y/N) blinked, rubbing her eyes once more to confirm that was what she saw. Sure enough, Azula was running down the halls of the palace, laughing hysterically as she did so. 

Her presence made no sense to (Y/N). Azula was supposed to be in prison, locked away so tightly that she couldn’t bring harm to anyone. So why was she running around the palace?

The event had surprised (Y/N) enough to wake her up. She ran down the hall after the two siblings, following them out of the palace, down through the gardens, and into a side building whose purpose she had never been sure of. She reached the two just in time to see Azula shut herself behind a door that could only be opened using firebending. Silently, she and Zuko used their bending to open the doors. 

The heavy wood parted, revealing a secret study that obviously belonged to Ozai, if the portrait of him above the fireplace was any indication. Azula was at the back of the room, rifling through a chest before popping back up with an, “Aha!” She clutched thin pieces of paper in her pale hands. Turning around, she flashed a smile at (Y/N). 

“Oh, Zuzu, you didn’t tell me (Y/N) was going to be here! I’ve been looking forward to catching up with her.” 

“What are you doing, Azula?” (Y/N) demanded. Azula ignored her, instead focusing on Zuko. 

“Father and I have been getting along very nicely since we’ve been in prison. He even told me about these letters,” She fanned herself with the pages. “That Mother wrote before she was banished. They might be the key to you finding her.” 

“Give them to me.” Zuko stretched out his hand, practically begging his sister. “Azula, please.” The girl stared at him for a moment before the letters went up in blue flames. She laughed as she saw the horrified expression on their faces. 

“Relax, I know everything that was in these letters. Which is why if you want to find our mother, you’ll have to do it on my terms.” 

“No,” (Y/N) said immediately. Zuko stared at her, his face contorted in confusion. “All she wants is to play games, Zuko, don’t let her. We can find your mother another way.” 

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be able to,” Azula drawled, leaning against the large wooden desk of the study. “Not from what Father told me.” 

“Azula always lies!” (Y/N) hissed at Zuko. He looked from (Y/N) to Azula, then back to (Y/N). 

“I have to trust her,” Zuko said quietly. “Just this once.” 

“You won’t regret this, Zuzu,” Azula smiled. “Now, my stipulations. I must accompany you, of course, unbound. No restraints whatsoever.” 

Zuko ground his teeth. “Fine.” 

(Y/N) flung her hands into the air and let out an exasperated sigh before leaving the room. She passed Suki and Ty Lee, who were no doubt on their way to restrain Azula for the time being. Zuko quickly chased after her. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked once he had caught up with her, grabbing her by her forearm. 

“She’s playing you, Zuko!” She exclaimed. “She doesn’t really care about you, or finding your mother.” 

“I have to give her another chance.” 

“Why? It’s not like she deserves it! She almost killed the both of us the last time we saw her!”

“Azula’s my family, (Y/N). You gave me another chance. I have to give her one, too.” 

(Y/N) stared up at him. His amber eyes glimmered in the moonlight. He had shown her that everyone was capable of great change. But she couldn’t bring herself to award the same sympathy to Azula. The last time they had seen each other, Azula had nearly killed Zuko. If Katara hadn’t been there to heal him, he would have died. She wasn’t sure if that was something she could forgive. 

“Come with me to find her,” Zuko pleaded. (Y/N) looked past him to see Suki and Ty Lee leading Azula back into the palace. She remembered Zuko hitting the ground and Azula’s wicked laugh. She shook her head. 

“I understand and support you finding your mother, but I can’t be around her. It wouldn’t end well and I don’t want to ruin the reunion.” 

“I get it.” She could see the disappointment lingering on his features. It made her feel incredibly guilty, but she new she had to protect herself. It wasn’t a good idea to put her and Azula together after everything that had happened. 

She gave Zuko a half smile before returning to bed. 

---

Zuko left a few days later, accompanied with Azula and their friends. (Y/N) was saddened that she might miss out on another adventure, but she knew it was for the best. After all, someone had to run the Fire Nation in Zuko’s absence. 

A lot of her time was spent enduring criticism from generals, noblemen, and other advisors on how to run the country. Each idea she had was continuously shot down. She knew they were only taking advantage of Zuko’s absence, but their blind defiance of her made her angry. She was only trying to help! Why couldn’t they see that?

After a particularly grueling argument with another general on the state of the world, (Y/N) had decided that she would like to spend the rest of her day sitting by the turtle duck pond. She brought a book and read under the big tree while eating an apple. Perhaps it was the physical and emotional distance between them, but (Y/N) missed Zuko when he was gone. Meetings flew by easier with him at her side. She had more patience for the old men that tried to argue with her. 

A shadow appeared, blocking the sunlight from shining on (Y/N’s) book. She squinted up at the figure and recognized it as Ren, the son of one of the Earth Kingdom noblemen that had been particularly difficult with her today. Diplomats tended to bring their children along with them on important meetings so that they would better understand how they went when it came time for them to attend on their own. “Can I help you?” She asked. 

“I’m Ren,” He said, extending his hand to her. She shook it slowly. “I just wanted to introduce myself to you and apologize for the way my father behaved today.” 

“It’s alright,” She said with a shrug, taking another bite of her apple. “He wasn’t the first to be mean to me and he certainly won’t be the last.” 

“May I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the grass beside her. She gave a noncommittal shrug, which he took as a yes. “I really liked your idea about holding a festival to promote unity in the Fire Nation colonies in the Earth Kingdom.” 

(Y/N) tilted her head. “How’d you get into the palace?” 

“I’ve been here since the meeting. You left too quickly for me to talk to you, so I asked the servants where you were until one of them led me to you.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I promise I’m not trying to be weird, I just really wanted to let you know that you have someone rooting for you from the other side.” 

She let out a small smile. “Well thank you, Ren, I appreciate that.” He smiled brightly at her before standing. 

“I should probably get going, but I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow if you’ll be there?” 

“When the Fire Lord’s out of town, I’m at every meeting.” He gave a quick nod before bowing and walking off of the palace grounds. She watched him as his figure retreated into a small blip on the horizon. What a weird guy. 

As weeks progressed without Zuko’s return, Ren found more and more ways to worm his way into (Y/N’s) time. He would talk to her after every meeting and reassure her that the points she had made were smart and discussed very eloquently. He seemed genuine in his compliments, which made (Y/N) feel nice on the inside. She felt her confidence in meetings improve, as long as Ren was there to give her a big smile and thumbs up when no one was looking. 

She liked to think that she helped him out, too. When they weren’t in meetings, they discussed ways to make their nations better. She let him know what might be well received by the other diplomats, which allowed him to come out of his shell a bit more during meetings. Some days, when they weren’t supposed to meet, she would invite Ren to sit under the big tree with her and feed the turtle ducks. 

“If I’m being honest, I’ve never really hung out with anyone from the Fire Nation before,” Ren admitted one day as he tossed a slice of bread into the pond. The turtle ducks and their babies all swam toward it, instantly devouring it. 

“I’ve never really hung out with anyone from the Earth Kingdom before, other than Toph. But she’s her own special brand of person.”

“Really? Not even when you were sent there?” She shrugged. 

“My parents never wanted me to go outside of our house. I had to sneak out to see what the city was really like. But I never got to hang out with anyone and just be myself.” 

“So they just kept you locked in all day?” She nodded. “Man, I didn’t think being engaged to the Fire Lord would stink that bad, but I guess so.” 

(Y/N) stared at him, her brows furrowed. “I’m not engaged to the Fire Lord.” Ren stared back, confused. 

“Really? You’re always in all of our meetings, I just assumed that you were preparing to be queen.” (Y/N) scoffed. 

“I guess you’re not too far off. Zuko and I used to be betrothed or whatever, but that all got thrown out the window when he was banished. I’m just his friend that helps him handle all of his Fire Lord duties.” 

“Oh,” Ren said, tossing another piece of bread into the pond. “Just to confirm, you and Fire Lord Zuko aren’t together?” She shook her head. “Then it wouldn’t be a problem if I asked to take you out on a date this weekend?” 

(Y/N) analyzed him for a moment. Her heart had told her for the longest time that it belonged to Zuko, but maybe she just needed to find someone who could change that. And here was a cute, funny guy that she enjoyed spending her time with. She should take a chance. 

“I don’t think that’d be a problem at all.” 

---

Tag List!

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[its-nebula]

Locked Room Lovin'

Rantaro x Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW

Thank goodness that your day was almost over. You couldn’t wait to rush out and go home, take a load off. Working in a library might not be that difficult, but it sure was repetitive. You were just so incredibly bored, and now it would be your off day. You yawned as you started to do your closing activities, namely, checking in all the books that had been returned, earlier in the day.

You scanned every bar code that you saw absent-mindedly, thinking instead about how you would be able to collapse on your bed and sleep as soon as you walked through the door.

The library was nearly empty at this time of night; go figure, it was 8:30 on a Saturday. The only people still looming around were the usual book-worms that would more than likely be gone by the time the lights turned off. You’ve worked at the library long enough to know and recognize some of them by name, though you rarely ever interacted with them.

“Okay, S/O! I’ll see you Monday afternoon, I’m getting out of here.” Your boss told you, and you politely nodded. “If you need something, don’t call. My kitties need attending to, and especially Mr. Whiskers, he’s been feeling a little frisky lately.”

“Riiiight....uh, see you Monday.” You waved to her, and she sashayed out of the library doors. Not long after she exited, the other people in the library started to exit as well. 9:00 was growing near, and you couldn’t wait until you were the only one left. After the last person you saw bid you a good night, you sighed of relief. All you had to do was put the books back in their respective places, and you could begin true relaxation.

Humming loudly to yourself, you pushed the book cart around, knowing exactly where each and every one should go. 

“GAH-!” You jumped in surprise as you saw a green haired gentleman sitting down in one of the beanbags, his nose stuck in a book. He seemed to be focusing pretty hard, until he glanced up at you. You recognized him as Rantaro, and he took off the headphones he was wearing. 

“Rantaro, you s-scared me.” You held your chest, chuckling lightly. “I thought there was nobody else left in the library.”

“I see that it’s already 9:00. Guess I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Oh, you’re fine! You can probably stay here until I’ve finished up.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude more than I already have. Besides, I think I’m done for tonight anyways.” He started to get off the bean bag, stretching his legs in the process. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at you. “I could help you put those up, if you so desire. I wouldn’t want you to stay longer than you have to.”

“Oh, Rantaro, you don’t have to do that!”

“It’s really no problem, Miss L/N. I need something to take my mind off things. Besides, we wouldn’t really want you to overwork those pretty little fingers of yours, would we?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he grabbed about half of the books that were left on your cart.

“I...suppose not.” You were honestly too tired to argue, and plus an extra hand never hurt.

The two of you put the books away, and surprisingly, he didn’t even need your help. After all was said and done, he looked at you with a smile on his face.

“That wasn’t too bad, right? If it’s not too much trouble, can I ask for one favor?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“That room behind the counter, that’s where you keep the books you’re about to give away, right? Would you mind if I took a couple of your fairytale books?”

“Go ahead.” You shrugged, searching for you card so that you could lock up for the night. “Be careful, it automatically locks from the outside.”

“I’ll be careful.” He turns around and disappears into the room, as you finally find you keycard. Happily wearing it around your neck, you went into most of the other rooms in the library to turn the lights off. As you went back to where the storage room was, you could see Rantaro excitedly picking up books; more than he looked like he could carry. He had one foot in the door, trying to keep it open.

“Do you need some help?” You offered, holding the door open for him. 

“Thanks, I couldn’t-” He wasn’t able to see past the large stacks of books, and he collided with the wall, causing him to fall, with books of varying sizes raining down on him. He rubbed his head, laughing nervously to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh as you offered a hand to help him up, moving away from the door.

As you started helping him pick the books up, you couldn’t help but hear the sound of the door shutting behind you. Your eyes widening, you quickly whipped around to see that the metal door had completely shut. You wiggled the useless doorknob in an attempt to get it open. “Shit! I think we’re locked in!” You exclaimed, slamming yourself against the door.

“Woah there, calm down.” Rantaro grabbed your shoulders, stopping you from ramming your body against the door. “Can’t you call your boss?”

“My boss... is busy.” You rolled your eyes. You looked away defeatedly, covering your face with your hands. “She’s going to kill me when she finds us in the morning...”

“Hey now, Miss L/N, what about the authorities?” 

“She would absolutely kill me if there was a big gaping whole where the door should be when she gets here. She doesn’t get here until 10:00, and she’d yell at me because she’d be held liable so early in the morning, and...”

“Okay, calm down.” He put a hand on your shoulder, and all you could do was slide down along the wall out of embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry Rantaro, now you’re going to be stuck here with me all night... I feel so bad...”

“At least I’m stuck here with the Librarian’s pretty assistant.” He smirked at how you seemed to get flustered, sitting down next to you. “Well, Miss L/N we might as well get to know each other.”

“...you can start by calling me by my first name.” You looked at him. “S/O.” It could be worse, you realized. If you were stuck with anybody, you were glad it was the admittedly hot guy you’d regularly seen around the library.

“I’m sure I don’t have to introduce myself by now. The name’s Rantaro Amami.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes.

“Well, I’m not already boring you, am I?”

“No, no! It’s just that I’ve been here since like 2, and your voice is just very calming to me.” The words just came out of your mouth, and you realized what you said. “Sorry! I didn’t mean for that to sound weird!”

He chuckled. “I get that a lot, it’s fine. If you need to sleep, I totally understand.”

“No! I’ll be fine for a while, I swear.”

“Mhmm~... Well, suit yourself.”

The next couple of hours or so were exclusively spent on you and Rantaro getting to know each other better. The two of you shared anything that you could think of. You told him all about how you came to be a library’s assistant, and how you’ve been working there for a quite a while. You told stories about your boss, who was increasingly diving more into “crazy cat lady territory” everyday. Rantaro shared stories about his adventures that he went on. He listed off all the countries he’d visited, and the countries he had left to visit. He solemnly explained the story about his sisters, and how he just wanted to find them so badly.

“And... that’s why I come to the library every day. Read up on the cultures and traditions of the countries I have yet to visit and any things I should be cautious of. That’s what I do.”

“I admire how determined you seem to be.” You told him with a reassuring smile. You squeezed his shoulder, and he looked back at you with a sad gaze. “I’m positive you’ll find them one day.”

“Thank you, S/O. Talking to you...it actually helps a lot.” He looked away. “Well, I’ve run out of things to talk about now. Any suggestions?”

You shrugged, resting your head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter to me. Being in here with you... I’m strangely comfortable. You’re such an easy person to talk to.”

A few minutes of silence passed. The two of you just enjoyed each other’s company, before you felt Rantaro’s hand on your chin. He turned your head towards his, and before you could process what was going on, the two of you were entangled in a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, lazily kissing back and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

The two of you stayed like that for a couple minutes, before you pulled apart. Your faces were within centimeters of each other, and you could hear him quietly laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I guess I have a confession to make. I’ve wanted to do that to the Librarian’s pretty assistant for a while.”

Your eyes widened. “You have?”

“Call it a stupid crush, but there’s always just been something about you, S/O. I’ve always wanted to get to know you on a more... personal level.” He runs a hand across your thigh, and you giggle sleepily. You connect your lips with is once again, your fingers getting tangled in his now messy hair.

You positioned yourselves so that you were sitting on top of Rantaro’s lap. You deepened the kiss, enjoying how his hands were squeezing your hips, trying to pull you closer towards him. As sleepy as you were, you were enjoying this immensely.

His lips parted from yours, and kisses peppered your jawline, all the way down to your neck and your collarbone. He held you in place as you drowsily giggled from the sensation. You could feel his breath against your skin as he stopped, and you couldn’t help but noticed his hands had reached a little higher on your back. “Are you sure you want to do this...? I can tell you’re tired and all, and- oh.”

Rantaro watched as you slipped your shirt off, throwing it to the side. Admittedly, he’d been getting a little tired too, but if anything woke him up, it was that. He smirked at you, taking the opportunity to take his own shirt off. “Well, I do love a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Shut up and kiss me...” You groaned before connecting your lips to his once more, not hesitating to stick your tongue straight into his mouth. You smiled in the kiss as his hands reached up to undo the straps of your bra, slipping it off with ease. You bucked your hips into his, causing him moan out loud. You could feel how hard it was getting, and it turned you on so much.

He bit his lip whenever you threw your bottoms to the side. His hands were free to explore your body now, and he took full advantage of that. He felt how soft your breasts felt in his hands, he felt how sensitive your nipples seemed to be. He did the honor of sucking on one of your buds, while his hand traveled to your lower half. Already, he could feel the heat radiating off you. 

He took off his jeans and boxers, and you could feel just how hard his dick was in your hands. “Why don’t you put those pretty little fingers of yours to work?” He asked breathlessly. You happily obliged, stroking him and watching as eyes rolled into the back of his head, not able to contain the groans that escaped his lips. Leaning in, you sloppily kissed his neck, and all he could do is grab tightly onto your ass, refraining himself from cumming. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He practically rushed and fought to get your undergarments off, and repositioned you so that you were sitting on top of his lap, himself lined up at your entrance. Rantaro held onto your hips, and he licked his lips as he asked for one last confirmation. “S-S/O... are you sure this is what you want?”

“Rantaro...” You whispered into his ear. “Give it to me.”

He guided you so you easily slid onto his throbbing erection, and you kissed him as you moaned into his mouth. You two got into a slow , but steady rhythm, as you moved in a way that made him repeatedly hit exactly the right spot. He bit your lower lip as you moved back and forth, up and down.

“You feel so damn good...” He closed his eyes. You noticed he was even drooling a little between every grunt and moan. You were about to reach your own climax, as evidenced of the increasing volume in your sounds.

“Rantaaaro~” You whined, throwing your head back. “I’m gonna-” You didn’t have time to finish your sentence as you had your climax.

Rantaro’s body stiffened as that happened, especially as your walls tightened around him as he could feel himself pulsating. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a long sigh as he reached his orgasm as well. Letting go of your body, he collapsed on the floor. You slowly crawled beside him, feeling happy, satisfied, and more than ever, exhausted.

“You should probably sleep now.” He whispered to you as he reached for his shirt. “I’ll wake you up if anybody comes.”

“Mmmm~” You put on his shirt, beaming drowsily at him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the back of your neck. “Thank you for an amazing night, S/O.”

You woke up to Rantaro’s light snoring, as he was still holding you close. You were about to go back to sleep, but you noticed the door was slightly cracked open, and there was a note next to you.

“Dear S/O,

Next time, consider calling before you indulge in intercourse with one of our loyal patrons!”

Rolling your eyes, you smiled knowing that you would almost certainly be yelled at as soon as you walked through the door. But that was a problem for the future. For now, all you wanted was to go back to sleep in Rantaro’s loving arms. And that’s exactly what you did.

[argylemnwrites]

Some Definition

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (post book 2)

Word Count: ~2000

Rating: PG

Summary: Cassie is done being the “cool girl.”

Author’s Note: Well, I know a ton of the fandom is looking forward to OH3 coming out later this week, but I’m just... not. I hated the majority of OH2, and I just don’t have faith in PB to write OH3 in ways that I don’t find wildly frustrating. So, I’ve decided not to read it. I think I’ll be a lot happier not having to rationalize why Bryce and my MC haven’t defined their relationship, why my MC is consistently asked to care about Ramsey’s personal problems, and why Bryce’s residency is only four years when in should be five (or seven, if he takes research years, hahaha).

So, from here on out, I’m just going to be writing fic that is canon-compliant through the end of OH2. I had assumed that Bryce and Cassie would be in a committed relationship at this point, and I really don’t have interest in their dynamic if they aren’t committed to each other after two years (and a near death experience, smh at you, PB). So, everything I write that is set after the end of OH2 will just ignore whatever nonsense PB gives us, and this little fic serves as my personal break point.

Written partially out of frustration with the direction PB took this series, but also for Day 16 of the @choicesfebchallenge - Confession.

Cassie sat on the edge of Bryce’s bed, twisting her fingers around in her lap. She was supposed to be getting undressed. At least that’s what Bryce had hinted she should do when they got back to his place while he grabbed them both glasses of water. But she couldn’t. Her conversation with Elijah from Ines’ housewarming party earlier was stuck in her mind.

“Needless to say, my parents were pretty thrilled when I said I was looking at U of Chicago and Northwestern for fellowship. What about you, considering heading back to the Midwest?”

“Oh! Umm, I don’t know,” Cassie said, her eyes jumping to Bryce over by the keg before she could stop herself.

Elijah followed her gaze and let out a little sigh. “Well, you’ll have to make some choices pretty soon.”

His words haunted her for the rest of the party, worming their way into her thoughts over and over again. He was totally right. Not just career choices, but personal choices. Because after two years, she and Bryce still weren’t anything defined or official.

She’d tried to be cool about it. She’d tried to just enjoy what they had. But she was going to be applying for fellowship very soon. And she knew that if she made decisions about where in the country she was applying because of a guy who she couldn’t even legitimately call her boyfriend, that would make her so foolish.

The door swung open, revealing the man in question, taking a swig of water from one glass and carrying another. He did a little double take when he saw her just sitting there, placing both glasses on his dresser once he finished his drink.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, crouching down in front of her.

“Bryce, what are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Cassie closed her eyes. “I need to know...” she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before opening her eyes and continuing, “I need to know what we are.”

Bryce frowned, coming to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. “Cassie, you’re so important to me,” he said, grabbing her hand, tracing his thumb over her knuckles. “You mean so much to me.” He leaned over, tracing his thumb across her cheek, leaning in and briefly pressing his lips to hers before pulling back. “I care about you so much.”

It would be so easy to give in, to let it stand at that. But the fact was that those words, as heartwarming and flattering as they were, didn’t really answer her question. So instead of getting swept away, she scooted further down the bed, shaking her head as she pulled her hand from his.

“I know you do, Bryce. But that wasn’t what I asked.”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had a good time tonight?”

“We did.”

He stared at her, obviously trying to read her, trying to figure out what he was missing. “I don’t get it, Cassie. What’s wrong?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stay steady and calm. She didn’t want to come across as some pathetic, needy girl whose happiness was dependent on some guy. But she also was coming to the realization that if Bryce didn’t want an actual relationship, it was probably time to end whatever they had. Spend her last year at Edenbrook just focusing on her career, getting some papers published, going to conferences, that sort of thing.

“I guess I just need to make some decisions, with my fellowship application coming up soon.”

Bryce nodded, “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, you’ll have your pick. Every diagnostics program in the country is going to want you.”

She smiled at that, but she knew it was a hollow one. Sure, she had her fears about the whole process, but fellowship match was so much less stressful than residency match, at least in diagnostics. Her worries were so much more personal. “And what if it’s a program in Georgia or Texas or Washington where I end up?”

“If you want ‘em, you’ll match there. I’m sure of it, Cass. You are brilliant, and your CV is a perfect one for diagnostics. All the other applicants are going to hate you.”

Cassie had to close her eyes, not wanting him to see the tears starting to pool there. He looked so eager and hopeful and joyous and pretty, sitting there, a giant grin on his face. He was so supportive, but it was clear that her being close to him wasn’t a priority for him at all. And after two years, after everything they’d been through, it stung. Badly.

“I think I’m going to get going,” she choked out, pushing herself off the bed, not chancing opening her eyes until she was facing away from him. Tears were already starting to track down her cheeks, and she needed to get out of there before she had a total meltdown.

“Cassie!” he called out. She heard rustling behind her and felt his fingers grasp her wrist, but she kept going, knowing he wouldn’t actually physically stop her. Sure enough, those same fingers peeled away the next instant as she didn’t slow down. She swiped her hand under her eyes as she bolted through the living room towards the front door of his apartment. How she was going to explain this later she had no idea, but she needed to get out of there, get a grip, and start to move on with her life.

Suddenly, Bryce appeared in front of her, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. “Cassie, what’s wrong? We can fix it; I promise.”

His eyes were so wide and earnest, he looked so determined and sure, but all it did was break her heart more. She just shook her head, even more tears flowing. “I don’t think-” her voice cracked, so she took a breath before she continued, “Please just let me go home, Bryce.”

Bryce stared at her for a tense second. “Is that what you really want?”

She shook her head as she swiped away more tears with the back of her hand. “It’s what I need, Bryce.”

He dropped his hands from her shoulders and ran one through his hair as he stepped back. He looked so lost and confused. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Obviously, I upset you. I’m not sure how, but clearly I did. So, I’m sorry.”

Cassie shook her head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You’ve never led me on or anything. I guess I just hoped that maybe… But, it’s fine. You did nothing wrong. You aren’t obligated to care where I end up for fellowship or anything.”

“Cassie, of course I care where you end up!”

“Right. As a friend. But you don’t care if I end up near you.”

“I shouldn’t be-” he took a breath and started again, “What matters is your career, Cassie. That’s what you should consider. Not me. I’m not a factor here.”

“I know,” she shook her head, wiping her eyes yet again, wishing she could stop crying, wishing she’d been able to hold it together a little better. “I just wish you wanted to be.” She gave him a little watery smile and shrug before heading to the door. There was nothing left to say.

“Cassie, wait!” Bryce cried out, brushing past her and standing in front of the door. “I promise, I’ll let you go,” he said, holding his hands up in front of his chest. “But you need to know it’s not that I don’t want to be a factor. I’m just not gonna be so selfish that I ask you to make me a factor.”

She paused for a moment, trying to figure out if what he was telling her mattered at all or not. “Bryce, I… Even if that’s true, I can’t keep doing this. Just rolling along, being a cool girl, pretending like I don’t need to label anything.”

Bryce was quiet for a second, so Cassie moved to step past him, but he shook his head, stopping her in her tracks. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His voice was quiet, subdued. He didn’t sound like himself. 

“Bryce, I confessed that this meant something to me over a year ago. I wasn’t going to drag you into a relationship you clearly didn’t want.”

“Didn’t want? Cassie, I didn’t want to burden you.”

“What are you-”

“I’m a mess, Cassie. You know that. I just figured you would have the good sense to not want to get involved with my drama beyond some fun.”

“How are you a mess?”

“Well, my parents-”

“-You aren’t them. You distanced yourself from them.”

“And my sister-”

“-Is a teenager you took in and did your best to help raise and support and love. Your relationship with Keiki is wonderful, not a downside at all.”

Bryce smiled briefly, glancing down at his feet, but kept going. “I’m a workaholic.”

“I don’t think there is a way to be a resident and not be a workaholic, Bryce.”

 “I couldn’t even make pasta, for god’s sake!”

Cassie couldn’t help but chuckle at that, a few more tears spilling out even if she had largely stopped crying by this point. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But you learned, Bryce. You learned and grew, and that’s enough.”

He shook his head, his eyes still locked on the ground. “Last time I was someone’s boyfriend, I was pretty bad at it. And I don’t know if you’ve picked up on this, but I don’t do well when I’m not excelling at something. I don’t like being mediocre at things.”

Cassie stepped forward, linking her pinkie around Bryce’s. He glanced at their hands before making eye contact. “I don’t need perfect, Bryce. I just need… more. For you to at least try. And for the record, I think you were probably better at being a boyfriend than you give yourself credit for.”

He shook his head. “Nah, you know me. I’m not exactly shy about my strengths. It was bad, Cassie.”

She shrugged. “Well, then work on it. Get better. You learned how to cook. You figured out how to provide stability for your sister. And although you might try to deny it, I am pretty sure you weren’t born a surgeon. You learned how to do those things. This doesn’t have to be any different.”

He stood there, but he didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. Cassie felt her cheeks growing warm as embarrassment settled in. He was probably just being polite, and she had to go and corner him, make things awkward. “Of course, if you don’t want to, I understand. I just-”

Her words died as Bryce turned his hand and fully interlocked their fingers, tugging her close and kissing her. After a few seconds, he pulled back, sliding his free hand to her cheek. “Only an idiot wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend, Cassie.”

A strange little chuckle bubbled out of her at that. “So, are you saying…”

“That I want to be your boyfriend? Yeah, I want that. Do you still want that? I’m not exactly off to an auspicious start here, what with making you cry and then after that making you console me and give me a pep talk and-”

It was her turn to cut him off, kissing him soundly, placing her hand behind his neck and holding him close. After what could have been seconds or minutes or hours, she pulled back, her eyes flickering up to his face, please to see a wide grin and pure joy in his eyes.

“Do you still want to go home? Because I would love to show off my relatively new-found breakfast making skills for my girlfriend in the morning.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm as she was able to genuinely smile for the first time since her conversation with Elijah. “I’d like that,” she said, looping her arms around his waist and relishing the feeling of him pulling her into a hug. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” said Bryce. “Me too.”

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl  @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5  @mom2000aggie

Open Heart: @mskaneko @omgjasminesimone @debramcg1106

Bryce x MC: @weaving-in-words  @anotherbeingsworld  @chaotichuman0090 @fortunatelywaywardsandwich   @dreaming-of-movies  @choicesarehard  @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl  @sunnyxdazed​

[ladyideal]

Ficmas~ Day 5

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 1421

Warnings: Canon death, all fluff

Requested by: @mournthewicked

Summary: Jim asks you to be his fake s/o, then you both end up falling in love.

A/n: 😍😍😍😍 went a little different then I intended but here we go.

"Captain," You greeted after ringing the bell. "Care to share some whiskey?"

You held up a bottle and 2 glasses.

"Sure, come in come in."

Shore leave was announced a month ago, and the ship buzzed to life. Crewmembers swapped plans, friends made stops together, vacations were researched and booked. Everyone focused hard on their reports, sending them up to their immediate commanding officers when finished and relayed to Command.

"Made any plans yet, Y/N?" Jim popped the cork off, pouring a generous glug into each glass and handing one to you. 

You shrugged, swirling the alcohol around the glass. "Not sure. Definitely visit my dad and then maybe go on a plane to Europe probably. Have you?"

"Of course I have! See my mom, see how it's going with Bones and Joanna," He answered, taking a sip. "Get called Uncle Jim and how I owe a blanket fort. Can't wait. What kind of plans do you call yours?!"

"Impulsive plans."

He snorted, but before he could reply a call came in from his PADD.

"Shoo. Go take the call," You took a sip, taking out yours so you didn't eavesdrop.

"Oh it's mom. I'll be right back," He looked apologetic before answering the call and taking the PADD into his bedroom.

You made yourself at home as you waited. Jim was one of your close friends ever since you stumbled across him during one of his nightly ship rounds. It was one of the rare nights you took on Gamma shift when you found him strolling through the corridors near your lab. 

"Uh Jim?" You called, drinking the last of your glass. "I think I'll leave first, and stop by another time."

"James?" Winona spoke, loud enough you could hear. "Who is that in your room?"

"Mom, it's Y/N. I've talked about them before. They're one of my-."

"Oh my lord, are you seeing them?" His mom squealed in delight, covering her mouth with both hands. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating, Jim? Your father would've been delighted to meet them."

As Jim rounded the corner, you could see the confusion, desperation, and the anxiety flipped through his face before turning his attention to you. "Go with it for me, please?" He mouthed over the PADD as his mom continued gushing over him. 

You furrowed your brows at him before realization dawned. He didn't want to disappoint his mother. After so long on being on his own, no wonder Winona was excited. 

"Hi Mrs Kirk," You answered loudly. 

"James Tiberious Kirk, you turn the screen over to them right this minute," He did so, cringing at being called his full name. "Oh my god, I'm so happy that you make my son so happy. It's so wonderful to finally meet you. Here I was thinking that my James would be in love with anyone. How long has it been?"

"Around three months," You made up an amount of time, scooching over the sofa so that the blonde could sit next to you. Your knees touched briefly, and nearly everything within shriveled up.

"Only three months! All my son talks is about you and only you. You make him so happy. Oh, I'm so happy he found you. Stop by soon and see me, will you? I can't wait to see you in person, Y/N."

You and Jim shared a look.

And that was exactly how you found yourself getting out of the airport taxi and thanking the driver. 

"So here we are," Jim spoke, taking out the duffel bags. "Iowa, home."

"Home," You echoed, listening to how odd the sound tasted. The ship was your home now, since your immediate family stopped communications when you enrolled into Starfleet years ago. 

He attempted a smile. "Thank you for this, Y/N. I just don't want to see my momma sad. I'll make this up to you."

"James, Y/N! You're both here!" Winona danced out the front door, hugged her son, and then you. "Oh it is so wonderful to see you in person, Y/N. I couldn't believe my ears when James said he was dating."

"Mom," Jim mumbled, looking embarrassed. "Could we head in first? It's been a long ride."

"Of course, come in, come in. Let this be your home too, Y/N," She led you in, peppering your supposed to be boyfriend with questions. You didn't have the heart to correct her. Even after 3 years of graduating from the Academy, not even a message was sent your way. "I have the guest room all ready for you."

"Here, let me show you around the house," Jim offered, and gratefully you accepted. Two story houses was definitely going to be confusing.

"So uh this is my room," He spoke, opening the door and letting you go in first. There were photos of his family hung on the walls along with some band posters, medals, certificates, his Starfleet Academy diploma, and various other items. The wooden desk was on the far right corner, complete with a desk light and some extra stylus. To the immediate right was the closet, a bookshelf on the left, and a freshly made bed tucked into the far left corner. 

"You have a brother?" You asked, beelining for the photo frame first.

"Sam, but he's named after dad," The blonde spoke, placing both duffel bags on the bed. "He's on Deneva, working as a research biologist for Starfleet too."

"You've never mentioned him before," You pulled your attention away from the frame and other parts of his room. 

"Never came up."

That was true. He'd talk about his mom more often than not, but no one else. You weren't nosy either. But that was how you started your first few days at Jim's and getting to know him and his mom a little better. After a week, things were more comfortable and routine. 

Some days he would take you on a trip with his dad's motorcycle and show you around Riverside. Some days he would take you out on dates, catch up with old friends, and enjoy being back home. 

For the first time, you even wondered if this was even be called fake dating anymore. The man himself could easily drop the act when his mom wasn't around, 

Unless…

"Hey, Y/N. Mom wants to head to Dad's cemetery, said we should go say hi and clean his place. Do you want to come?" Jim spoke from the other sofa, feet still on the arms and watching you. 

Meet the famous First Officer George Kirk of the USS Kelvin?

"Yeah, I'll come," You spoke, getting to your feet. 

The memorial was open when the car pulled through. Rows of names could be found etched on stones in front of a small lot of flowers or a tree, while some only had just the headstones. The trees gently rocked alongside the cool breeze, as birds chirped under the sunlight. Snow flurries drifted down, floating along the wind that carried it far and wide. 

"Here we are," Winona spoke, finally stopping at a name. "Not a day goes by that I don't have him in my mind. I'm sure he would have loved to have met you, Y/N. It takes someone special James after all he's gone through."

You eyed Jim as he knelt down, dusted the dirt and the fresh snow off the memorial, and placed fresh flowers to the side. 

"Come, Y/N. Let me introduce you to my dad." He spoke, patting the patch of green grass beside him. 

"If you say so, Cap," You shuffled closer, despite feeling that you shouldn't intrude on the family's privacy. 

And so Jim introduced you to his father, how he knew you, became friends, and then started dating not very long ago. That he was happy and excited that someone made him happy. While he spoke, your thoughts wandered off to your previous ones. 

Was this all a ruse or was he really actually wanting this? Of course, like many others, he was once the source of your romantic interests, but never got the courage to speak to him till that night.

On the ride back home with his mom driving and singing along to a song on the radio, you confronted him. 

"I don't think we're playing pretend anymore, are we?"

He took your hand in his, gently squeezed it, and smiled his usual beautiful blinding smile. "Welcome to the Kirk family, Y/N."

"Love you too."

Eats Everything: @mournthewicked @asraime @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @aspiring-ginger @groovyfluxie @also-fangirlinsweden @keijibum @bluesclues-1234 @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @charlielotte @supergeekfangirl​ @your-sparklywinnercollection​

Trekkies: @marvelouslytrekking @lykxzandlove @april-showers-and-flowers @mrs-l-mccoy @piccolaromana @strange-old-worlds @scraftskhu35 @worm-cant-read @fandomismymiddlename @childofthecornflakes @yueci @lgbtqcontinuum @dartheldur @goddess-of-many-fandoms @crackheadcastdirector @writerdee1701​

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (End) Turning Point

After all this way, we finally see the MC reach the turning point in her life.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you very much. I hope this has made you love the world of Dragon Raja

You could no longer see Caesar or Chu Zihang, but at this point, you weren’t looking. Your eyes were locked on Chisei Gen. Caesar’s final orders rang in your head like a command from Heaven. Your hands were caked in dried black blood. You were trembling with pain and fatigue, but that last brief surge of Blood Rage had revived your senses enough to stare at him, much like a cat would, eyes dilated and your body flexed. If he moved a muscle, you would draw your weapon.

Chisei watched the flames with resigned calmness however. He was tied firmly and his life was in Caesar and Chu Zihang’s hands just as much as yours was. “MC.” He said. “Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

He’s looking at you now, with the fire reflected in his eyes. His stare was confident. Even though he was asking a question, there was no question in those eyes. No curiosity. It was as if he were asking a question he already knew the answer to.

But how could he know the answer? The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You’d learned how to shoot and hand-to-hand combat from your training in Black Swan Bay. Your training in Black Swan Bay was mostly centered however on your Yanling, focusing your spiritual energy into the ground, learning the limits of your power, how much you could manipulate the earth without suffering physical effects… This was all ingrained into you in a way that bordered on lab experiments with each result meticulously recorded and logged. It was just constant testing and while you were being tested, you learned your power and how to control it.

But Chisei hadn’t seen you use any of that. What he had seen from his vantage point in the mural hall rafters was you, walking out after Caesar and Chu Zihang armed with nothing but the laser sight of a Soviet era rifle and a pistol which you used to bait a member of the Deadpool into attacking their own kind. He observed how closely you could read the actions of the deadpool and how you picked her targets to attack. He heard your giddy laughter echoing on the mural hall walls.

After that, he would have seen clearly how you fearlessly approached that deadpool after she was exhausted, shot her in the head and then used her severed claw as a knife. How you used the non-lethal bullets from your pistol like a fist. How you were using that claw as your only weapon to render these A-ranked super monsters as weak as worms. It was no wonder that he looked at you when he was using Majesty to subdue the deadly and left a few living ones in his trail of mass destruction for you to kill. He had wanted to observe you close up.

When you don’t answer immediately he turns back to observe the fire. “Among the Hydra we have a name for that fighting technique you’re using. It’s called “God’s Eyes”. The heart of God’s Eyes is to subdue the enemy by your understanding of their movements and by your complete control of the battlefield. According to those that describe it, it takes at least a decade to approach mastery of elements of this technique. But you have mastered all of it and you’re so young. I’ve never seen anyone use God’s Eyes like you. You had to have learned from a master… but there are no masters of this technique. Only a few books that reference it or reference other works that describe it. It’s a technique that’s lost to history.”

“There’s only one man I know who can use God’s Eye on your level. And that’s Hilbert Ron Anjou. But you two just met a few weeks ago. Right?”

His eyes watch your face, but you nod, completely innocent, and his eyes narrowed to slits. You just stare back at him. He finally sighs. Whatever theory he may have had about where you learned your technique collapsed.

“Anjou can clear a room with just his pocket knife. Just like you. I don’t know anyone else who can do that.”

You do, of course, but disclosing that involves your deepest secrets and given the huge deadpool tank you found at the bottom of Genji Heavy Industry, you can be excused for not exactly trusting this man with secrets about your past. “Perhaps after this is over, we can talk more. Over sake?” You ask, taking a page from Caesar’s book.

“I would like that.” He sighed again. “I would also like to know how someone like you ended up with these people from Cassell?”

“I ask myself that every day.” Your lips quirk upward.

This was the first time you actually had a moment to sit and talk with Chisei Gen one on one and it actually wasn’t that hard. It took your mind off your pain enough for you to crack a little joke. Chisei lowers his eyes and, much to your delight, he chuckles and your smile grows.

“For my last moments, if these are my last moments… I suppose I could have worse company then these weirdos. My only regret is that Lu Mingfei isn’t here. But knowing him…” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, imagining him flapping his arms and squawking about how much danger you were in. “...nah, I'll take that back. What I really regret is that if we don't make it out of here, he’ll have lost all his friends. I know how that feels. I don’t want him to feel that.” 

You rest your head against the wall of the elevator and gaze out into the flames. “Looking back, my life is very odd. Even if you ask me a thousand questions about myself, I wonder if I would even be able to answer a single one. Simple things like… where were you born… Who are your parents? Where did you go to school…?” Your voice trails off. After a moment's thought, you shrug.

Chisei looks at you, silent.

A burst of gunfire and a sudden sharp explosion made you squeak and flinch! This was it, you think, this was the end. Was it really going to end this way? Caesar’s last order was to make sure that Chisei Gen did not touch the elevator door, but he also told you to stop seeking death! You only had your miserable little peashooter pistols, your miserable little claw and your miserable little knife and your miserable laser pointer.

You were suddenly struck with a sudden and intense desperation like nothing you’d ever felt.

You force yourself up to your feet while Chisei Gen sits there astounded.  “What are you doing?” Chisei shouts. 

Your voice is choked off as you stagger toward the elevator door, groaning with intense pain, but this fierce determination drives you forward. Chisei can now see the full view of your ruined back, your skin-tight combat suit is torn to ribbons where the Deadpool’s claws sank deep into muscle tissue.

Caesar and Chu Zihang were visible again! Caesar held two Sten submachine guns with both hands and Chu Zihang had one. The two back to back were using the bullet screen to suppress the group of deadpool while moving slowly in the direction of the elevator shaft. The group of deadpool that had been overturned by the shockwave of the explosion regrouped, their hideous golden eyes surrounding Caesar and Chu Zihang, the bullets repeatedly knocking them to the ground as they repeatedly straightened up and charged forward. The only thing that protects them is the bullet screen in front of them, and once the screen disappears the group of deadpool will pounce and bite.

You stand in the door, a silhouette in the light of the flame, shoving a magazine into your pistol. Your black hair is being pulled by the intense flaming winds like you were standing right in the breath of a massive creature. You finally relent. You finally gave in. You finally believe the last words of your friend. You finally believe the words of Caesar and the eyes of Chu Zihang.

You have to live!

The pale red columns collapsed one by one. The hot wind and black smoke rampaged through the hall, the frescoes curled in the fire, and the painted dragons and snakes finally flew away in the black ash.

The two rival men were fighting back to back, and the group of deadpool were getting closer and closer, so close that Caesar once passed the barrel of his gun into the deadpool’s open mouth before shooting it out. Chu Zihang stuck his sword and Onimaru in front of him, so if a deadpool got too close he would draw his blade and force it back, and then pick up his gun and fire.  But sooner or later the bullets will run out, just like a man holding a torch to scare the wolves would eventually see that torch go out. 

So you wait, watching them, hand on your pistol, observing the battlefield with God’s Eyes! You knew how many pieces of ammunition you had and, from your observation of Caesar’s reloading, you could make an estimate of how much he had left. When you determined that they were close to being out of ammo, you raised your pistols and opened fire!

The staccato rhythm of your pistols is like the rhythmic hits of a boxer’s gloves. The bullets strike the sensitive areas of the beasts, their eyes, their open wounds, their burns. They hiss and flinch as though being stung by a sudden swarm of bees. You drop the empty magazine and reload and shoot again and again and again, cursing them with the deepest and blackest of words. 

Each bullet was precious, like a drop of life’s blood. You couldn’t waste a single one. You watched the behavior of these monsters. If they reached for your friends, your bullets stung them like the whip of a ringmaster before vicious tigers. If there was even a possibility that they might think twice about doing it again, your quick and painful punishment gave them pause. If they hesitated, you rewarded them by not shooting them. But if they looked ready to pounce you shot them where it hurt.

Your support is just enough to turn the tide. The resistance of the deadpool falters and this time it doesn’t recover. If they rise up they’re either hit by the two men and if they’re not hit by the two men, they’re hit by the pistol fire.

A strange noise like the pop and snap of firewood shifts your focus and your pistol swivels and points at Chisei. “Stay Down!” You roar.

Chisei’s face is a mask of pain. His body was writhing strangely, his joints were all dislocated, and the bones moved independently of each other. It was like his arms had turned into spaghetti!

“I said stay down!” You lower your pistol to his ankle and pull the trigger. 

Click. Your eyes widen.

Chisei smirks. “You’re out of bullets. It’s okay…” He grunts. “I’m not going to run. If they want blood…” He gasped. “I’ll give them blood.” Before you could comprehend what was happening, he suddenly freed himself from his restraints by wiggling out of his shirt. His bare chest looks like an ugly bag of broken bones! He cut himself across the wrist with Dojigiri, staining the white fabric of his shirt red. He stood up and walked to the elevator entrance and threw the shirt into the fire.

With that last act, Chisei Gen completely collapsed. You tried to catch him but the action pulled at your wounds and you both went down to the floor. Both you and he had given your all.  You let him fall to the floor and just tried to annoy them with your laser pointer while you grit your teeth, but the Deadpool had a far more tantalizing target in mind already. You realize what’s happening, but you can’t pull the unconscious Chisei back into the elevator. You’re so choked with smoke and exhaustion you can’t even call for help.

"What's going on?" Caesar couldn't believe his eyes, the smoking muzzle points to the ground. The guns in his right and left hands stopped firing, but still no monsters pounced on him. 

They were about to run out of bullets when the swarm of deadpool suddenly withdrew from them and scrambled to slither up to a corner of the hall. A minute ago they were still a seasoned suckling pig roasting in the fire, and now they suddenly turned into a disgusting slop, and the whole group just left.

"Hurry! Run!" Chu Zihang yelled. 

Caesar suddenly woke up. Tight now they do not have time to think about the rationality of this miracle. The fire burning C4 explosives may explode at any time. It was still too early to celebrate. They simultaneously took off running. They shed off every entangling weight, taking off their heavy windbreakers, which still had scattered firearms and bullets in them. There was a loud bang and a searing wind behind them. It was some piece of C4 explosive behind the shaded wall that had exploded. It was so powerful that it completely took the wall down.

The first thing he saw when he cleared the smoke was you struggling with Chisei in the elevator door. His fury spurred him faster. He was coming at you like a raging bull. You couldn’t even begin to explain! Caesar didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, and blood exploded from Chisei’s calf. 

“Caesar!” Your voice is a useless squeak. Caesar had grabbed Chisei and unceremoniously tossed him like luggage back into the car.

Chu Zihang picked you up and hit the door close button on his way in.

The pain woke up Chisei  and he was just about to struggle to sit up when Caesar rushed into the elevator and threw a straight punch at his face.

“Stop…” Your voice is just a hiss, and you realized that you’ve completely lost your voice. Perhaps the heat, the dry air, and your screaming in pain had ruined your vocal cords.

The chain of explosions had already begun. Blinding sun-like lights are lighting up the corners of the hall as waves of hot air swept through at speeds that exceeded those of a hurricane, setting other blocks of explosives ablaze. The old freight elevator squeaked and closed with difficulty, and with a few centimeters left in the doorway, a hot air stream a few centimeters wide burrowed into the elevator, a bright red that ignited the remaining files in the car. But the elevator door finally closed. 

It slowly sank into the elevator shaft, and a few seconds later there was a heavenly explosion from above, and a bright wave of air rushed into the elevator shaft, throwing the burning corpses of the deadpool into the void. The snake shadows burned in the fire, their fat dissolved, until gradually  the bronze skeletons were revealed. These tyrannical creatures finally were cut off from life, and as they died they gathered around a shirt and shredded it.. 

As the freight elevator rumbled down, Caesar stomped hard on the burning documents, and then lay down exhausted on the file box, and kicked at Chisei’s face.

“Stop it!” You hiss. But Chu Zihang held you tight and you were far worse off than he was. Turned out that weird period style armor had actually protected him quite a bit. You dug your nails into him but he didn’t even flinch.

Chisei said nothing, powerlessly wrapping a cloth band around the wrist wound. He had cut an artery, and soaked at least a fifth of the blood in his body into the shirt. He made his shirt irresistible to the monsters. The result was that he couldn't even stand up. Caesar wasted no time, tying him up even tighter.

You’re breathing a bit easier now. Instinctively, you take deeper breaths. As your adrenaline lowers, fatigue crashes again like a weighted blanket. Breathing now became agony, but with no voice, no one could hear you moaning. There’s just the strange whistling noise, like the soft whine of a little dog.

"What do we do with this guy?" Caesar pointed at Chisei with the Desert Eagle.

You don’t even lift your head.  

"It's naturally best if we can take him prisoner. But it's hard to leave Genji Heavy Industries by ourselves in this situation, and it's even harder to take him away." Chu Zihang said. He tilts his head down to look at you. “She doesn’t seem to want any harm to come to him.”

"How about using him as a hostage threat? There is no way the Yakuza would give up the precious Emperor, right?" 

"It's hard to make sure we're not followed, Tokyo is the Hydra Yakuza's home turf, and we won’t be able to escape it no matter how much we run.”

"It seems the best way is to shoot this guy. Sooner or later the Academy and the Hydra family will have to go to war, such a precious weapon can not be left in the hands of the other side. Anyway, his body is flowing with dragon blood, I have to kill him as a dragon slayer!" Caesar pulled the bolt and loaded the gun. 

No way! Caesar hadn’t killed anyone this whole time! And now that you’ve come this far and you had fought beside Chisei and he’d saved all your lives, he was going to kill him?

You jerk against Chu Zihang and try to sink your teeth into him. His strong arm tightens. He whispers so softly you can barely hear it. “It’s a bluff.”

In a moment of silence, you hear something else sigh.

There were only four people in the elevator, and you heard a fifth breath! 

The side wall of the elevator car suddenly caves in! Before Caesar had time to react, the monstrous bony claws penetrated the sidewall and plunged into Chisei’s ribs from behind! Blood rained down like a fountain on the sneak attacker's face as it let out an ear-piercing scream of joy! 

Even Caesar was stunned when he saw the Deadpool, even though they had just stepped out of the hordes of Deadpool that were trying to kill him. This Deadpool was so amazing. It was more than twice the size of the others! The longest of them  was over five meters, the shortest was only about three meters, and their upper bodies were about the same size as a human, gradually getting thinner and longer below the waist, before finally taking on the shape of a snake. But this monstrosity is more than eight meters long. Its abdomen is bloated, like a pregnant queen ant. It dragged this overly deformed lower body upward but fell down, so it had just arrived at the mural hall. It became the only survivor. It was attracted by the smell of Chisei's blood and recklessly tore through the elevator car.. 

This deadpool had the face of a middle-aged woman, and her face was not as pale as the other deadpool.  Instead, it was rosy and lustrous, like a woman who had become rounded in pregnancy. Caesar took a glance at its abdomen and suddenly understood. Its snow-white, scaleless abdomen had snake tail-like traces shining through. This was really a pregnant Deadpool  and a pregnant deadpool could only give birth to those more fearsome than itself, because the fetal dragon blood would be purer. The fetuses also seem to have felt the freshness of the blood of Chisei and are stirring in the mother's body. 

What had been suspected all along was confirmed, the Deadpool was capable of producing offspring, and this bloated, deformed mother's womb was breeding devils! 

The Deadpool clung to Chisei, licking the blood excitedly. Chisei clung on to the handrail to keep from being dragged into the elevator shaft. Deadpool's bloated body weighing hundreds of kilograms hangs below the elevator by that single grip.

Chu Zihang presses his hand firmly on your mouth. You wanted to scream in rage, pure frustration and despair. But the monster hadn’t noticed you at all yet. You were too weak to fight this thing. You all were. You said ‘no more sacrifices’ but now you really had no more to give but yourselves, and this monster wanted Chisei. You could get away scot free if you left him behind. 

Caesar tried to aim several times in the process of raising his gun, but he had no chance of hitting Deadpool, who was hiding behind Chisei. If he fired, he would first have to injure him, and it was unknown whether the force of the bullet could do that and injure the deadpool. He just fired a shot at Chisei but now he needs to shoot him again. But Chisei is extremely pale from blood loss. He originally had a feminine beauty, and now he looks like a dying girl. His soul is leaving his pale body. If he suffered another gunshot wound, Chisei could certainly die. 

This world was so black, so dark, that the minute you started to believe that perhaps Caesar could be right and you could live and you could live with all your friends, that scythe of death came to collect its taxes on your happiness. You hated this world, you hated this life!

Deadpool licked the back of Chisei’s neck with her long tongue. Her sharp teeth are seeking the veins in his neck as she begins to give birth to her babies.  The green and white snake-like fetuses fell one by one. 

At this time there was a "thump" sound above the elevator, and the speed of the elevator's descent suddenly increased. The elevator filled with boxes of documents was close to the upper limit of the load. The weight of the giant deadpool plus the four of you exceeded the limits of the elevator, not to mention that it was running in the fragile track after the earthquake. It was slamming into the depths of the elevator shaft at an accelerating rate, at which point the Deadpool would of course be smashed to death, and the four of you would invariably be buried with her. 

"Shoot!" Chisei yelled with his last strength. 

You watched Caesar look into the eyes of Chisei in surprise. 

"Shoot me! Hit me in the neck! Its head is right back there!" Chisei spurted out a mouthful of blood. 

Caesar gritted his teeth fiercely. He was ready to shoot. 

But his fingers were trembling, it was as if the blackness of the world had surrounded him and was pressing in on him, closing in and laughing, mocking him. You stood in that darkness and you could offer no answer. After all, what mercy had the world ever offered you?

A mere few days ago, you wouldn’t hesitate to reasonably make the judgment that sacrificing one person can save everyone, and it's worth doing. But now you stared at Caesar and shook your head. You didn’t want to live in a world without his justice.

You take your bronze claw dagger and stab it into Chu Zihang’s side! Caesar turns at his gasp of pain. You rise up like a lioness to seize Caesar’s wrist and push it upward, pointing the Desert Eagle in the air. You’re face to face with him and bare your teeth.

"’Never leave a friend’ is your justice.” You force the words through your dead vocal cords. Your eyes stare into his eyes and they’re cold and black as the ice sea. “I live for your justice and I will die for your justice!" 

Caesar stares for a moment and, for that moment, the cheeks on either side of his face grow gradually pink.

Chisei suddenly smiled. He rarely smiles. His smile is surprisingly beautiful. 

"Gattuso-kun, in fact, I have thought about being ...... friend of justice." Chisei let go of the handrail and was instantly sucked into the void outside the elevator car.

Caesar barely prevented you from plunging out there with him in your effort to stop him. He threw you back against the door of the elevator. Your vision exploded into sparks and for a moment you couldn’t move. 

“Chu Zihang!”

The elevator suddenly stopped, pressing you to the floor. You blink your eyes open. Caesar and Chu Zihang are gathered by the hole in the elevator wall, shoulder to shoulder. They weren't moving, in fact, they were grunting with great effort. They were backing up from the gap and in their hands was the rope. The rope that he’d tied Chisei up in was being pulled up back into the elevator and attached to that rope was Chisei!

You gasp and crawl forward. He was unconscious, pale like death. His sword was stuck through him, front to back, but he was alive. He was still alive. Caesar looks down at you, but oddly doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks shy, almost embarrassed?

“We need to find a way out of here.” Chu Zihang, ever practical, hands you the claw dagger back. You stare at it a moment and then tuck it in your belt to let Caesar carry you out.

Together, you climb out of the elevator and into the darkness of the shaft, until you take a rest on the beam. Caesar is puffing on a cigar. You’re sitting in Caesar’s lap like a child. Exhausted, you’re turning the bronze colored claw dagger over and over in your hands, watching the play of light on it.

You all sit in silence like this for an hour.

Your head was burning and you felt numb and yet, deep down, the arctic ice that had held onto your soul since waking up at Cassell was starting to fracture and the summer sun was beginning to rise. You rest your head against Caesar’s chest and look up into his eyes.

He lets out a puff of smoke. “You’re not going to fall for me, are you?”

Your eyes narrow and then you huff. “No. I was just thinking…You weren’t going to let me die from the moment we met, right? You stinker.”

Caesar tapped the ash over the edge of the beam. “So you finally get it.”

“Uh huh. I’ll always miss my friends.” Your lip trembles a bit but you once again control it. “But… I think… with you… That’s okay.”

Caesar bit his cigar and grinned. “Glad to hear it.” 

You lower your eyes to Chu Zihang who had been tending to his own injuries and was now working on Chisei’s many wounds, while he rested on the beam. “Sorry, I stabbed you.”

“It was impressive.”

You laugh, unsure of how to respond to that.

The building was chock full of Hydra operatives now. You couldn’t leave the elevator shaft yet. They were probably all looking for Chisei so you had to wait for him to wake up.

Chisei started to stir under Chu Zihang’s medical care. Caesar carefully settled you against the wall of the shaft and catwalked over to stare down into Chisei’s eyes. He pulled the last cigarette from his pocket, stuck it in Chisei’s mouth and lit it, the fire illuminating the man’s pupils. Chisei struggled for a moment but he was still in pain and tightly bound.

"The emperor hybrid is really different, huh. A serious wound like harakiri only took an hour to heal. I want to have such a good body.." Caesar moved the lighter closer to his face and illuminated it to Chisei, showing his healing injury. In the next moment, he’d kicked Chisei off the beam. The rope pulled taut where the end was tied and Chisei Gen hung from it.

"Won't you consider untying me?" Gen Chisei smiled bitterly, "It's a little inconvenient to smoke and hang from a rope." 

"Not quite.  With someone of your low integrity, I still can't believe you. The minute I untie you, you’ll assault us again.." Caesar gripped his cigar, "Let’s just have a good conversation." 

"Is the family style of the famous hybrid Gattuso family that shameless?" Chisei exhaled a puff of smoke. 

"You call this shameless?" Caesar shrugged, "If you think this is shameless, you haven't met my studly old man." After a few seconds of silence Caesar mumbled.  "Sorry." 

"There's nothing to apologize for. At the time I really wanted to escape and leave all you behind. I'm not a friend of justice. I've done a lot of bad things, I've killed people." 

"Ghosts?" Chu Zihang asked. 

"We call them Ghosts, but they are actually the same hybrid species as us, only more likely to become deadly." Chisei whispered, "To some extent all of us are ghosts." 

"The mural is ruined, but we took pictures. Although you do not want us to, we have to take these pictures. The Academy and the Hydra are now in a hostile relationship, and now that the Deadpool group is also finished, your cooperation with us is over, and we all revert to hostile relations." Caesar took a drag on his cigar.

You listen to the conversation and your heart is surprisingly calm when you hear that you won’t be seeing Chisei any time soon. Chisei looks up at you. “I guess we’ll have to make plans for sake later?”

Caesar gives you a look of sharp disbelief.

You stick your tongue out at him. “I meant it as a lady.” But you offer no further explanation. It wasn’t his business.

"Then you have to leave quickly, with my recovery speed, this rope won’t hold me for long.." Chisei smiled again. 

"You can’t fool me. This rope can tether an elephant. I also tied it with a sailor knot, so the more you struggle, the tighter it will get.  Your body is not as strong as we thought. You super hybrids are slightly stronger than us, but your bones and muscles can not be compared with a real dragon. You might be worse than those deadpool but the minute you release your Yanling you’re defenseless. In short, you're strong, but not necessarily without flaws." Caesar sneered. 

"Well, well you guys see through me. What do you want to do with me?" 

"It was too difficult to take you away, and, in the end, I decided to leave you here. Your men are looking all over the building for you, but they didn't expect you to be hanging in the middle of the elevator shaft just yet. Seriously, I think that Assistant Sakura likes you a lot, don't you?" Caesar waved his cigar. 

"I'm not getting a girlfriend until I leave Japan, and isn't it a bit much to ask a woman like her to give up her life to go to France with me to sell sunscreen?" 

"Isn’t that exactly like leaving behind your status as the head of the big family to go to France?" 

"I am a person who has done a lot of evil. My hands are stained with the blood of many ghosts, fleeing to France to settle down would be good, I am not going to France, I’m trying to escape." Chisei said leisurely. 

"You said you also want to be a friend of justice?" Caesar raised an eyebrow. 

"Everyone wants to be a friend of justice when they are children." Chisei said faintly. 

"Are you mocking me for still being stuck in a child's state?" Caesar gave Chisei a poke and sent him spinning. 

You giggle. It hurt but that struck you as funny.

“What are you laughing at?” Caesar smiles at you.

You reply "Friends of Justice are the words from Ultraman, a cartoon for kids." 

"Ultraman?" 

"Superman who came to Earth from the universe to help Earthlings fight alien monsters. The heir of the Gattuso family should not have seen that kind of thing. We all watched it when we were kids. In elementary school, kids could be seen discussing which Ultraman was more powerful and saving their lunch money to buy plastic models of Ultraman. Did you do this MC?”

“No,” you chuckle. “I was a Sailor Moon fan. And James Bond fan.”

“Ah…” Chisei sighs. “Ultraman said his fans are friends of justice. We are friends of Ultraman, so we are also friends of justice. The more powerful monsters will be defeated by the friends of justice. Every episode they say that, so as children, we are convinced." Chisei mumbled slyly, "One year school performance, I went on stage to sing the theme song of Ultraman, I still remember the tune ......" 

"Beep beep beep, 

lots of monsters. 

Look behind you, 

beasts through the street there, 

just to your left and right. 

Can't get enough, can't get enough. 

Fly one foot and hit three low, 

don't presume to fly away. 

Who comes from  the universe to fight for freedom? 

Who will be faithful to defend the world? 

It is you, the great friend of justice!" 

You clap your hands. “You have a good voice, Chisei.”

This scene is really weird. The big head of the Japanese yakuza and the only emperor hybrid hanging in mid-air singing the theme song of "Ultraman". The heir of the Gattuso family, Caesar Gattuso and A+ blood Chu Zihang, and you, the S-ranked young woman, are his audience. Everyone should have laughed, but no one did. All of you had childhoods that were long gone, and you paid respects to them the same as you would a long dead ancestor.

The song ended and Caesar clapped his hands. 

"But I didn't become a friend of justice, I became the bad guy." Chisei said softly, "My friends are bad people. Yasha turned out to be a street fighter. Crow is a loan shark organization's strong man. Sakura is a killer. And I have done a lot more bad things than you can imagine. You might think the Japanese executive bureau is here to maintain order. But more often, it all just ends in bloodshed.. The mob is like this. In this business only violence speaks. The ones who are the most violent are the loudest. We live by doing evil. We belong to a family. We must be loyal to it. For the benefit of the family, we may strike at the innocent. For the benefit of the family we can sacrifice our companions or ourselves. Everyone can be sacrificed so that more people can live a good life. This world is so cruel. I am not Hikari Ultraman.I can not save everyone. If doing evil can make my people live a better life, then I am willing to become a bad guy." 

"Bad people can become good, but bad things will never become right." Caesar said. 

Chisei made the effort to give Caesar a look, "At your age you can still say such things, Gattuso-kun. I envy you." 

"Is that another Japanese style taunt?" 

"No, people who strongly believe in justice are happy people." Chisei said softly. 

Caesar was silent for a long time and raised his eyebrows: "What a bitter thing to say. But there's no time for your bitterness, I hear footsteps approaching, it's your people looking for you, right?" 

"Goodbye then, have a good trip." Chisei said. 

"The next time we meet, we'll be enemies again. Can't we say some warm and fuzzy goodbyes?" 

"Don't get involved in this. Leave Japan if you can, this is not something you can get involved in." 

"That kind of bullshit might as well be Saying Sayonara.”

"Sayonara." Chisei said softly. 

"Sayonara." Caesar said, "People who could have been friends end up like this. The world isn't cruel. It’s Bullshit.”

You stare down at Chisei. You want to say something, but you feel like you and Chisei were strangely similar. You were both violent people and trained to be so from an early age. You both felt similarly when Caesar spouted on about justice and being right and good in a world that was cruel. 

“Chisei… please don’t give up…” You whisper, but your voice is still hoarse.

“Come on, girl, he’s not worth your time.” Caesar once again lifts you up on his shoulders like a child and starts to climb. But you look over his shoulder. You and Chisei lock eyes as he hangs there in the void and you keep looking at each other until you’re both out of sight.

[sta-bright]

My First Tumble

Hi Tumblr,

I was inspired to get a Tumblr account, believe it or not, from Netflix's 2021 four-part docu-series "Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel." Although I highly doubt anyone cares enough to read any of my posts or has the attention span to read anything longer than a few sentences written by a 23 year old with her boobs out, *just in case,* SPOILER ALERT.

The (main) topic of the show focuses around Elisa Lam, who vanished in early 2013 when she was staying at the Cecil Hotel and was then found dead in one of the four water tanks on the roof 19 days after being reported missing (I think I have that correct but don't hold me to it, imaginary readers. It was something like that.).

Anyway, "...to make a long story short"... "too late" #cluereference, Elisa had a Tumblr blog. It seemed to be a good setup for how she was writing very personally, which is what I want to do, so here we go. I have a blog page for the business I own, but to be honest, it's geared more toward, well, business, so I don't feel like I can write freely, or only like the "good" or "normal" part of myself, the good stuff geared at an audience without scaring people away or whatever. So for this one, I don't really care as much about proper grammar or spelling, just somewhere to write my real thoughts if and when I can focus enough to sort them out enough to put them down. I have a bunch of journals, but they are all over the place and I can't write fast enough, so I'm going to try this out. I have a lot to say, and I think even just putting it out there even though I know no one cares might help me feel a little bit of relief, even if anyone does read it and might think I'm an idiot or whatever.

I wasn't sure what to name my blog, and I'm not sure if there's a way to change it in the future, but for now I have decided on "Sta-Bright." Most of my family and some of my close friends call me "Sta" and my partner David calls me Sta Bright, which I think is really cute and makes me happy, so here we are. I use the word partner because I think the word boyfriend is a little too young for us and our relationship warrants a higher level than that. ANYWAY, there is the background information for you, my new friend, Tumblr. I already feel better.

So, this show really pissed me off for a few (many) reasons. I've legitimately been pacing around all morning. First, even the title of the show is misleading. The death of Elisa Lam was not a "crime." It was a devastating incident of accidental death highly likely (as confidently confirmed by all professionals involved) related to a psychotic episode of her mental illness, Bipolar I, which I also happen to have. Netflix using the title "Crime Scene" to lure watchers in is disgusting within itself. Good for you, Netflix. Holla for the dollas! Make that money, baby.

Then, beyond the fact Netflix milked four episodes out of a glamorized case that was ruled an accidental death for this reason not even long after finding Elisa, it is the whole ordeal of the reality and dramatizing of this saga that is so sad.

Upon the release of the famous elevator footage the day she went missing, it went viral almost instantaneously.

*Hold please* I actually just read an article by BBC.com where director of the series, Joe Berlinger, says, "For the average viewer it's another compelling story you watch and then move on to the next. But for who this happened to, it's the worst moment in their life. It's a real tragedy for that person and that family." LOLOLOLOL OKAY JOE!!!! Is this why you spent FOUR EPISODES talking about bullshit theories to keep people hooked and open more discussion? You know that this is not out of respect. Shame on YOU!

"If you look at the other tellings of the story, you'd see she's the victim of some horrible, evil presence that took control of her.

"Those kinds of narratives, I think, are incredibly disrespectful and probably why the family just didn't want to deal with another show that was going to exaggerate the circumstances of the tragedy."

So is this why you made a show exaggerating the circumstances of the tragedy? Lol. "We need to talk about the ghost stories" Or do you need to talk about them to open a can of worms to more losers who fixate on the case? OR IS THAT JUST ME? I don't know. Lemme tell ya what. If anything ever happens to me, please make sure this Joe Schmuck doesn't make a pathetic docuseries about it.

Then, aside from the pathetic profit of Netflix, the actual details of what happened and how society and the "web sleuths" investigated, obsessed, and chimed in on this case is a whole other ballpark about society's minimization and lack of knowledge or respect for mental illness on its own.

THEN, there is a quote by Amy Price, the manager of the hotel during the incident, who is now profiting on a book she is writing about HER experience:

"I want to share my story," she says.

"But this isn't a horror story or anything like that. This is a story about struggle."

Okay, Amy. Whose fucking struggle are you writing about here? I legitimately don't know if she is referring to hers or Elisa's, but either way, it's gross.

It makes me so sad that this whole situation warranted MILLIONS of theories, millions of internet trolls writing articles about the "BIZARRE" death of this girl. This case is not fucking bizarre. It is unfortunate but it is not bizarre. This case was plastered all over internet lists with the titles "bizarre, unexplained cases of missing people." It's not unexplained, and it only was not for long.

These "web sleuths" were busy having a blast, going to the crime scene, smiling as they recorded, posting videos about their stupid theories. Trolls posting their dumb, far-fetched theories without knowing all of the facts, thinking they know better than the professionals, who DO have the findings, did do the labs, did do the investigations. And people still insist that THERE HAS TO BE MORE.

Of course, I don't know all the facts either. BUT, according to the actual professionals involved rather than the entire population of people who love a good "mystery," Elisa's toxicology results showed that her levels of the medications she was supposed to be on signified she had not been taking them as she should have been. They also found bottles of her medicine that had more pills than prescribed, also showing that she had not been taking them.

THEN, she was removed from the room she had been sharing with a few others due to "odd behavior" leaving weird post-its telling them to go away, or whatever. THEN, apparently going into the hotel lobby and screaming "I'm crazy!" or whatever it was.

Although all experiences with mental illnesses are unique, all of these details plus the footage, both detailing erratic behavior, leave no doubt in my mind that the professionals, SHOCKINGLY, CRAZILY, may be right! Who thunk it! I have legitimately acted in the ways described and shown in the video. I don't and couldn't understand HERS, but I understand MY paranoia, hallucinations, experiences I have had, and the actions that are presented, and I guarantee some would look very similar to that footage. Ask the few people who know me best what it's like when I'm not on my meds or fuck them up. I legitimately saw myself in her actions.

Yet, the internet losers had to fixate on a death metal artist who had stayed in the hotel for a few days A YEAR before any of this happened and legitimately ruined his life. His alibi was completely valid and he was dismissed by investigators. He was out of the country, he had tons of substantial paperwork and proof that he was, but that didn't matter.

Because no one takes bipolar disorder seriously, dismissing it as just mood swings, people being dramatic, seeking attention, being lazy, and everyone needs something more sensational, THIS wasn't even an option. They needed to fixate on crazy, fun conspiracy theories, watching the footage over and over and over again, sitting in their caves with their thumbs up their asses writing about their ballpark theories, internet bullying innocent people instead of doing any research on bipolar disorder, instead of defending or considering that it was a psychotic episode, which literally all of the official facts and footage present.

Clearly I'm not a professional either, but like... watch the show and you tell me. You tell me what you think is likely. You tell me what the professionals agree on. But before you make that call, try reading a little bit about bipolar disorder. Try reading about the psychotic episodes that can come with it. It probably won't change your mind, but oh well. It probably is just the hotel being haunted, ya know. Right? This is just my little rant that doesn't matter.

If you want to think it was a ghost, a demon, if it was a murder even though she literally had zero signs of any physical violence and there was zero evidence of it and all evidence the other way, you do that, boo. Have a blast. Hey, I 100% could be wrong, right? Absolutely. Who am I? Just a little dramatic, stupid, crazy nobody.

That's just my take, no better than any other internet trolls, I suppose. When all is said and done, in my little fantasy world, I guess people would just take bipolar disorder seriously and understand the severity of it. People would take it to consideration for the actions and words of those who have it. That's not fun, though. Everyone loves money, everyone loves a good story. Everyone loves making fun of people. Everyone loves a disability you can see. Everything I do is just me being an oddball. Everyone loves to be an internet bully.

I'm sorry for Elisa and her family who have had to deal with years of this. Years of people dismissing the severity of mental illness and obsessing over ghost stories, obsessing over the number of likes or views they get, money they make off of it.

Wow, that was a blast. I'm fairly confident no one will read this, but I feel a lot better that I put that out there. Again, I'm a little nobody, so nothing I say matters, but that's just my take on all of it. I've given up trying to convince anyone that I'm anything but weird, because I know no one will care or accept that. I'll just keep making people feel uncomfortable and keep looking like an idiot. Woe is me, am I right?

You have a blessed day now.

[cross-d-a]

fic tag game

aaahhh @vishcount thank you for tagging me!!! These are so fun and I adored reading about your fic journey~!  ೖ(⑅σ̑ᴗσ̑)ೖ ❤

OH as a note!! For the ppl I tag at the end I don’t expect you to read all of this bc it’s A Lot!!! but I figured you might want to do this game yourself? haha :)

Name: cross-d-a shortened version of my first ever username. unfortunately stuck with it now haha but i’m fond of it :p wish it was cuter tho!!

Posting the rest of this under the cut so it doesn’t eat up people’s dashes!! 

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Fandoms: 

oKAY YIKES there are....honestly too many too name. I’ve got a short and obsessive attention span so it’s either all or nothing with me usually. When I can stay in a fandom for a long period of time it’s a miracle. I’ll name the bigger ones that I’ve all written fic for! Even if I’ve never posted them haha

Right now I’m very firmly into Daomu Biji (dmbj). It feels like it’s both got a crap ton of content and yet barely anything at all haha. Maybe because the English fandom is so small. But at least there are a bunch of dramas and books!!! I really, really, really adore dmbj so much!! And a large part of that is the fandom!!! It's been a really cool and unique experience! Everyone in it is truly so kind and wonderful, and I’ve made some really incredible friends because of it (looking at you vish!! ❤). I’ve got a bunch of wips, but I’ve only posted two fics for dmbj!

Before this I was very into Guardian and mdzs. MDZS was my first foray into cdramas and Guardian’s Zhu Yilong really suckered me into watching more haha I also have fics for both these fandoms!

My very first fandoms were Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-Man and Naruto. My very old ffnet account has fics for these and I’ve got a bunch of newer wips on my tablet. Then Star Trek, Twilight, BBC Merlin, Sherlock, Death Note, Harry Potter, How to Train Your Dragon, Battlestar Galactica, Avatar the Last Airbender and Marvel were a few of my main ones in high school. Plus a bunch of anime (like Fruits Basket! and Kuroshitsuji and Natsume Yuujinchou). 

Then college hit and I renewed my childhood love of Tolkien (mainly lotr and the Hobbit), and Star Wars. I also found Teen Wolf! Then after college it was Stranger Things. 

I find myself in a cycle of mild fondness and complete obsession with these fandoms haha I go back to Star Wars at least once a year!! Then I’m in the gffa hole for a few months. Marvel also reoccurs, depending on how interested I am in new content! Star Trek I always always always go back to. TOS is my comfort show and it will never fade from my heart ❤

But for now I’m stuck in cdrama hell and I love it

Tropes: 

Time travel, found family, whump+hurt/comfort, fairytale-like elements, resurrective immortality (thanks to a “Nine Lives” Hobbit fic), CROSSOVERS

I’m a slut for all these things so they often worm their way into my plots haha

I also just- love weird premises. I think that’s the anime influencing me haha

Fic I spent most time on: 

My series he leaves sand and stardust in my wake (main fic is hurricane on the edge of oblivion), I have...spent five years on now. I have done so much research for this fic it’s insane. 

The premise is force ghost!Obi-Wan getting shunted back into his tiny 10 year old self. I incorporate a shit ton of legends and I try to stay as canon as possible. I basically want this au to feel like it’s 1000% plausible while still getting all my gay shit. It’s chock full of whump, redemption, found family, minor characters turning into major characters, and I’ve got slavery uprising on the mind, too. It’s just- everything I could ever want to explore in the Star Wars universe basically. 

It’s my first big project. I started doodling and scribbling ideas in the margins of my notebook in my Scottish History class. I adore it so so so much. But, because of my hyperfixation and fleeting intense obsession with things it makes it- really difficult to consistently update. I leave it for months at a time and I am constantly guilt-ridden about it. Because it’s my baby and I have a lot of wonderful readers. I fear I’ll never be able to finish it. Especially since I’ve written so much and I’m still only in the beginning of it. ( ; A ; )

Also, I’ve spent so much time with Xanatos, Feemor and Bruck that they just feel like mine now. I can’t read any fics that involve them, it’s too strange. Which is a damn shame because I love them so much haha OH ALSO!! I think it’s the first really big fic to include those three?? So I’m very proud about that haha (I’ve had so many ppl comment about how they actually Give A Shit about these three and are Invested bc of me haha)

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written: 

hurricane on the edge of oblivion (with nowhere to go) (Star Wars)

My long-term passion project. My love-letter to Star Wars, I suppose. Reading it now I feel like a lot of it is clunky or long-winded, but I think it really shows the foundation of my writing today :) Main characters are Obi-Wan, Xanatos Du Crion, Qui-Gon Jinn, Bruck Chun and Feemor. Eventually we’ll get to Maul, Savage, Feral, Shmi Skywalker, (more!) Ahsoka, Anakin and a shit ton of clones ❤

things we hunger for (Guardian)

My Ye Zun self-indulgent fic. It’s a time travel amnesia Weilanzun! Honestly has some of my fav writing I’ve ever done. It’s so soft and really indulges in the hurt/comfort. It gives Ye Zun the friends and family I think he deserves. Also, he gets to grow into a (mostly!) functional person and I adore him.

the beast that slumbers within your soul (mdzs)

Jiang Cheng centric fic!! I feel like all my favourite fics I’ve written are love letters haha. This is one def my love letter to Jiang Cheng. This fic possessed me for two whole days. I wrote 16k in almost one sitting. I went to sleep at 6 in the morning bc I couldn’t stop writing. And when I drifted off I kept thinking of new ideas so I’d whip out my phone and write down lines and notes. I- have never ever ever felt that way about anything. It was- insane. It felt insane. It was so amazing. I’m still riding the memory of that high.

 Basically Jiang Cheng actually finds Baoshan Sanren and it turns out she’s a fox demon and Jiang Cheng is descended from wolves. It’s- okay I said the fic above this had my favourite writing?? That was a lie. This has my favourite writing I’ve ever done. It’s unfinished bc I am in dmbj hell but I am still excited about the next chapter which features Wei Wuxian’s pov!!

the whispers of spirits (dmbj)

My current passion project. In a way it kinda feels similar to hurricane? Bc multiple povs, incorporating different aspects of canon (we’ll get there!! I promise!), shit ton of research, etc. etc. I really really really love it for so many reasons. I’m basically taking all the things I was unsatisfied with in Reboot and Sha Hai and running with it. Found family and whump galore! It’s also a love letter to the women of dmbj who really deserve so so so much better.

Honourable mention to:

One Day (you’ll have given more of yourself than is meant to be taken) (Marvel)

This fic also kinda possessed me. I just- couldn’t get rid of the idea of a trans!Thor. And I mean a mtf Thor! It’s just? So many people look at Thor and go “that’s a Real Man.” Full stop. They never think there could be anything more, and it really really really bothered me. So I wrote out my feelings. I’m not trans. I don’t have that experience at all. I’ve had issues and confusion about my gender but nothing like this. I just wanted to do justice to this idea of Thor in my head. And I still feel a bit nervous having posted it. But I've gotten so many comments from people who really connected with what I’ve written? So I’m very very thankful I wrote it and it has a very special place in my heart. It’s a very cathartic fic.

Fic I spent least time on: 

Probably we rise (Star Wars) and I think it shows haha. I wrote it in response to Dave Filoni posting a drawing of Ahsoka and Gandalf telling her “People thought I was dead, too, and look how that turned out...” So I incorporated Ahsoka (and Din and Grogu and Ezra!!!) into the ending of Rise of Skywalker, kinda explaining how I think they could all still be alive. :)

Longest fic: 

hurricane is my longest fic (159k) but I’m kinda worried whispers will eclipse that.....

Shortest fic: 

Of my posted ones it’s The Five Moments it Took Tony and Scott to Admit They Were Best Friends (and the first time they ever did), currently clocks at 1.6k. It’s unfinished tho so maybe that doesn’t count.... otherwise it’s we rise which is completed and 2k.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: 

hurricane overall has the most of all these. Though I don’t think hits counts as much bc it’s multi-chapter. If you discount multi-chapter stuff, most hits goes to my obikin smutfic Homecoming, bc people are horny af haha

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: 

If I had energy I’d like to rewrite the beginning of hurricane bc it feels so so wordy. I’d want to expand on One Day bc I really would like to write a whole series with trans!Thor. And like- I’d really like the focus to finish any of my WIPs.

Share a bit of a WIP: I really wanna share my Guardian/dmbj crossover that I started back in August. Bc I adore the idea of wu xie&shen wei&ye zun triplets! Plus time travel!!! I dunno if I’ll ever finish it tho ( ; A ; ) It just feels like a lot to deal with right now.

This scene takes place during the Mountain Awl arc. Guardian crew and desperado fam run across each other at the village! Wu Xie has recently found out that he’s adopted and he’s searching for answers in the area Sanshu originally found amnesiac!toddler!Wu Xie in :) Gonna pull two snippets bc I’m v excited and this might be the only time anyone else sees this fic haha:

“Oh?” Pangzi focuses on Yunlan now, lips twisting. “You think I’ve ‘got the wrong guy,’ huh?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “That’s rich! Are you that cocky or are you just stupid?”

Bristling, Yunlan drops his hands and scowls. “Excuse me?”

“Sir,” Shen Wei tries. “I think—”

Pangzi’s eyes snap back to Shen Wei, sharp and blazing. “How dare you fucking steal his face!”

What?

Automatically, Zhao Yunlan turns to Shen Wei, but the professor looks just as shell-shocked as Zhao Yunlan feels which- is seriously something. Since everything about Shen Wei is so carefully controlled, kept to the minimum. Except for those delightful little smiles that bloom across his lovely face, or the startled little bursts of laughter that fall from his lips. Or even when anger and frustration spark across his features, cracking his calm veneer open enough that he can see a glimmer of what lies beneath, the fire in those eyes. Zhao Yunlan delights in those moments, makes a game of making Shen Wei’s control slip.

He tells himself it’s nothing more than a game. Nothing more than trying to find out what makes Shen Wei tick.

Zhao Yunlan’s always been very bad at lying to himself. Or very good. Depending on who you’re asking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunlan splutters.

But before anyone can say anything else, a very familiar voice calls:

“Pangzi? What’s wrong?”

Yunlan can feel Shen Wei stiffen, and Yunlan himself is pulled to that voice like a planet in orbit, like the inevitable plummet to the ground.

Another shadow wavers in the doorway before it steps out onto the dirt. Light illuminates shaggy hair, limning it gold, sharply casting everything else in shadow. But as the figure nears, the contrast softens until Yunlan can see the newcomer’s face properly and- and—

“Wu Xie!” Pangzi growls. “We’ve got ourselves an impostor!”

The man wearing Shen Wei’s face steps up to them, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. He glances between them, eyes landing on Shen Wei. His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, but then—

“Wu Xie?” Shen Wei breathes, all trembly and lost and hopeless.

Heart in his throat, Yunlan turns to Shen Wei again. Turns and flinches at that stricken look upon Shen Wei’s pale pinched face.

“A-Xie?” Shen Wei chokes. “Didi?”

and

Pangzi snorts. “Professor?”

“I-it’s true!”

Startled Yunlan swings his attention over to Jiajia who clenches her backpack to her chest, face screwed up in admirable determination. “P-professor Shen took me and Xiao Quan on a field trip to investigate an archeological site around here!”

“Oh?” Wu Xie drawls all slow and amused. “Well, what a coincidence. We’re archeologists, too.”

“With guns?” Yunlan bites out.

Wu Xie raises a brow, grin full of teeth. “Well, you can never be too prepared.”

“Right,” Yunlan drawls right back. “Are you a professor, too, then? You come here with your students?”

Wu Xie outright grins. “You could say that, I suppose.”

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men rolls his eyes. He’s the one with sharp features, glasses and looped earbuds. Does he think it’s appropriate to listen to music at a time like this? Yunlan admires the man’s gall.

aahhhh vish thanks so much again for tagging me!! This was so fun to relive my fic memories!! I’m gonna tag @alwaysaslutforshakespeare @jockvillagersonly @tehfanglyfish @lichelleme @undyingsunshine @humanlighthouse  @thewindsofsong I’m curious about your guys’ writing and fandom journey!! As always, no pressure to actually complete this!! I just thought it was fun ❤

Wow if you read all of this I am very humbled and impressed, thank you!!

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Theurgist

Chapter Five: A Quick Laugh at Death

-dragonswithjetpacks

Notes: I am so sorry it took so long. I had a busy week last week and was gone all weekend. I got really tired of trying to right this chapter so I am sorry if it seems rushed and choppy. I mainly just wanted the quirky bits. And I have so many things already pre-written I'd like to get to. Including the temple. And then tying in the bite scene later on.

Read here on Ao3

Ferelith looked down into the reflection of the water, examining the dried blood on the side of her face. A small shard of anger slithered into her thoughts when she thought about the creature from the crash. The worm was trying to fight it, but the twirling shadow had clouded it’s thoughts. Her patron was still there, protecting her the best he could. But he would not speak. Ferelith looked up to the moon and saw it was still a few days away before she could perform the ritual to speak with him. Though there was always the option to try. She sighed, setting her gloves to the side to wipe them off later and she dipped her hands into the water. As she began to wipe off her face, Gale had approached her.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a word once we’ve settled in for the night,” he said.

“If this is about what happened earlier,” she rose to her feet, “then I assure you I’m quite alright.”

“Actually, no,” he paused as he turned. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling a bit more like yourself.”

A swift breeze pulled her hair into her face, but she was quick to tuck it behind her ear. Gale watched her eyes closely, but saw nothing peculiar within them. They were just as they always had been. Pale yellow with nothing of importance gleaming inside. No hint of anger or excitement. Just simply mindful and content. And the lingering dark essence he had sensed before disappeared. There was just Ferelith with her pale skin and dark hair holding her arms against her chest to brace herself against the cold wind of the river.

“You know,” she said, squeezing her arms. “I’ve met many wizards in my travels. Have you… met many warlocks?”

“A few,” he nodded.

“What were they like?”

Gale paused for a moment. A warlock was unlike a wizard in the sense of how they obtained their power. A wizard was impatient, in most cases. They desired power, but that wasn’t any different than any one else. What separated a warlock was the means in which they obtained that power and what sort of desire drove them. It varied upon the person. And when he looked at Ferelith, the quiet woman who cradled the apron with her books and her singed quill, he did not see a desire for power. He saw a woman with secrets. A woman blanketed by a protective shadow. He took a deep breath.

“Nothing like yourself,” he smiled at her in adoration.

Her eyes, once cold and gazing lost across the river came round to acknowledge the compliment of her companion. He caught the reflection of gratitude within them and knew her smile to be true.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she looked back out to the water. “It even makes me sound a bit dangerous. But I’ll take the ambiguity as a compliment.”

“I simply don’t know enough about you to say otherwise,” he attempted to correct his statement.

“I appreciate your honesty,” she let a little sigh slip through, leading Gale to believe she was finished with his company. “For the record… you’re one of the kindest wizards I’ve ever met.”

“I do try… my lady.”

“Alright enough flattery,” she waved her hand slightly as he left her line of sight, her gaze still focused on the rolling stream in front of her. “I’ll see you later.”

His footsteps faded out, only to be replaced by another. Ferelith glanced up at the sky, realizing they had a few hours of daylight left before she could retire. There was still much to be done, but she had a sudden urge to be alone. Whoever it was behind her, they were in no rush. And she wondered how long she could stay silent before they urged her to speak.

“The breeze will just get colder as the sun goes down,” she said eyeing the colors shifting as the sun set. “It will draw me closer to the fire. Soon enough.”

“Take your time,” a male’s voice startled her.

Ferelith turned, seeing Astarion with his newly gifted bow strapped to his back, a few crude arrows in his hand.

“Oh, I though you were- well, it doesn’t matter…”

“I was just leaving,” he stated, glancing back to the rest of their party gathering around the pit as Gale prepared a fire.

“And you’re, what? Taking requests?” she smirked over her shoulder.

“I’m afraid the prime rib will be unavailable tonight,” he shifted his weight to his other foot. “But, in order to make up for it, I’ve offered a few bolts to your collection.”

Ferelith lowered her arms, granting him her full attention. “To my what?”

“The village coward dropped his quiver. There were a few arrows in there a bit too short to be considered an arrow. I tossed them onto you bedroll.”

“Oh… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. At the quality they appear to be in, they could have just been poorly made arrows that couldn’t be used by a proper bow,” he cringed. “They might just snap straight in half.”

“Right,” she nodded, admitting that her thoughts were lost on him.

Astarion could see her drifting back out into the open evening, eyes faded into a distant plane. After what he had witnessed of her earlier that day, he had expected a change to her behavior at camp. The outburst to him meant a reveal of character. Not this reclusive woman who was lost in thought. While Ferelith had been a mostly quiet person from the beginning, there were still those snarky comments between he had rather enjoyed. This was simply just disappointing. She did not even bother to send him away as he turned to leave.

***********************************************************

After an evening delegating a very passive aggressive discussion between Shadowheart and Lae’zel over what she would consider dinner, Ferelith was forced to resist the urge to turn in for the night. Her head had been pounding, likely a side affect of the illithid’s mental damage from before. Still, she had agreed to have a moment with Gale. And least with him, she knew half of what to expect. That included walking up to see him observing his own double.

“Be with you in a moment,” his voice echoed.

His attention never left the mirror image, his eyes focused upon his own face. Ferelith snorted a bit, rolling her eyes with a sigh as she glanced around for something else to keep her occupied. She allowed him a few more seconds before she grew impatient.

“Is there a reason you’re studying your own image?”

Gale turned, a smirk shot at her to acknowledge the teasing tone.

“Indulging in a spot of vanity. Handsome devil, aren’t I?” he spun around with a wave of his, causing the image to vanish. “Be that as it may.”

It slowly fizzled down to a few sparks. He folded his hands behind his back, very much in the estute sort of way she would have imagine. His brow lowered and she could feel the tone shifting to a more serious manner. Though, she felt she had enough of it that day.

“Ceremorphosis. What does it make you think of?”

“The tadpole,” she answered, knowing it was what he expected.

Still, he responded with utmost enthusiasm.

“Spot on,” he winked. “Day one: fever and memory loss. Day two: hallucinations and graying skin. Day three: hair loss and blood leaking from all orifices. Need I go on?”

“By all means,” she nodded.

“Day four: excruciating pain as the skeleton and organs reform and reposition. Day five: the host's personality has disappeared. Fingers, toes, and limbs elongate,” he became a bit aggravated as a small chuckle fell from her lips. “I take it you get the picture.”

“I’ve already committed to the lesson, Gale,” she grinned. “Might as well get my money’s worth.”

“Day six,” he lowered his brow, clearly not humored by her sarcasm, “The flesh around the mouth splits to make way for tentacles. Day seven: a mind flayer is born. This is the most annotated version, of course.”

“What you’re saying,” she shifted with crossed arms, “is that I can at least keep my sense of humor until the fifth day? I’d say we only have another night’s worth of laughs, Gale.”

“I’m glad your coping mechanism consists of deflecting the seriousness of this problem with jokes,” he replied.

“You’re no fun tonight,” she tilted her head to the side. “But no worries. We’re two days in. We should have clearly turned gray by now.”

“Spot on again,” he flicked a finger at her. “Orifices remain blissfully unbloodied. Our heads remain clear, and our blood temperature is normal. Any expert will agree: this is… abnormal.”

“Don’t question it so much,” she shrugged. “In all my existence, the only reason I owe my life to anything is because of the abnormal. I’m just lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll toast to that,” he smiled uneasily with a hint of intrigue. “The pragmatic in me, however, sees only the silence before the storm. Something to sleep on. We should get some rest.”

“Thank you for leaving me with that imagery,” she gave a slight nod. “I’m sure it will soothe me as I mediate tonight. Good night, Gale.”

“I’m only here to help,” he gave a half solute.

Ferelith grinned, waving her hand slightly to bid farewell as she retreated to her bedroll. They had acquired a few extra blankets. And she was lucky enough to procure an additional pillow. Leaning against her new luxurious cot was her pack, waiting patiently for her hands to dive into it. And standing directly across it from the fire, just as he was the night before, was Astarion. He seemed to be waiting as patiently as her pack.

“I saw you getting a lecture from our magical friend,” he said the moment she glanced in his direction.

“It was quite informative,” she took a break from straightening her blanket to address him. “Descriptive, at the very least.”

“I have to say,” he said leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “I thought you’d look worse. But no. Not a tentacle in sight.”

“Thank you?” she pulled back, turning a shoulder to him. “I’m hoping it will stay that way.”

“Naturally,” he rose a brow. “But I was thinking… what if it doesn’t?”

Ferelith had thought about what would happen if she did change. But the ever growing stubbornness inside her made her truly believe it would never happen. She was not willing to believe it. Nor was she willing to admit to anyone else that it was a possibility. He let the sentiment settle with her for a moment. Though he could see it had little impact. The blank stare with a slow blink signaled him to proceed.

“Of course,” he went on, tilting his chin to the side with a gleam in his eye, “first sign of change and I’ll have to stop that pretty little heart of yours.”

He almost seemed too excited at the thought of putting her down. Like a wild animal. She crossed her arms, as if to guard her chest from his stare. It did not matter, he could hear the sound of her pounding heart. And it had only grown louder from his statement.

“I am open to suggestions. Knives, poison, strangulation – whatever you’d prefer.”

“I’d prefer not to die,” she said dully.

“Well now you’re just being closed-minded,” he teased. “There are some lovely ways to go.”

“First I listen to Gale talk about the details of turning into a terrifying monster and now you’re telling me all the options I have in which you could kill me? Whoever said chivalry was dead must have no taste for macabre.”

“To be fair, you were the one that pushed the wizard to give those wonderful details. I am giving you these options as a gift.”

“I am ever so grateful. Do go on about the beautiful ways in which I can ensue death,” she opened her arms, flicking her wrists in a manner as if she were receiving the said gift he spoke of.

“You know, I watched urchins freeze to death on the street. It looks peaceful – just like falling asleep.”

“Very poetic… I wonder if drowning feels the same.”

“Ha!” his shoulders fell back as he lifted his head with laughter. “Oh, come on. Humor me. If you had to choose…”

“Fine,” she took a deep breath with a few seconds of thought. “I suppose a knife. Straight to the chest. That seems quick.”

“A classic,” he nodded with approval. “One good thrust to the heart and you’re gone. We need a good blade, of course. Don’t want to waste time hacking and prodding with a dinner half.”

It was the first time in a long time it had happened. The welling feeling in her chest. The tightening of her cheeks. The widening of the eyes. The burst of air from her mouths as her voice let out a loud series of rhythmic laughter. It caught her off guard. So much that she covered her mouth, leaning forward, and looking to Astarion with surprise. She rose her brows in disbelief that he had truly made her laugh.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward toward her like they were a couple of children cackling in school, “I’m getting ahead of myself. This is all a worst case scenario, obviously.”

“You’re terrible,” she giggled, lurching forward with one last tit of laughter. ���What about you? Is there any way you’d like for me to end your life?”

“Oh, my dear,” he said with a condescending tone. “I’d like to see you try.”

Ferelith reared back, a bit offended that he held himself so much higher than herself. But she knew he was only testing her. Pushing her to see what sort of outcome he could obtain by doubting her strength.

“Dealer’s choice then,” she said firmly. “I’ll make sure it’s a lovely surprise.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’ll disappoint me,” it was meant to be a positive reinforcement, but the way he said it still made it sound more like a threat. “Now, enough of this talk. Let’s get some rest. The sooner we start tomorrow, the better our chances of keeping this hypothetical.”

“I take it you’re joining us to the tiefling camp, then?”

“Of course, darling,” he replied. “I’ll go wherever you lead.”

“I’d be careful with those words,” she said darkly. “You’ll never know what path I’ll lead you toward.”

“Even better.”

She shook her head at his advancements with a foolish smirk she could not hide. “Good night, Astarion.”

“Good night, Ferelith.”

************************************************************

The next day brought a heavy fog over the camp, dampening both their supplies and their spirits. Ferelith could smell the moisture in the air and knew it would lift as the sun rose. And sure enough, the moment they began to snack on their morning rations they could see a bit of orange illuminating the sky. Their pace quickened and they got to their feet, ready to begin to their journey into a new part of the forsaken land they had been thrown into. The human, the gith, and the two elves made their way out of camp, leaving Shadowheart to sulk to herself as they had agreed to take Lae’zel to question the tieflings and seek further assistance for themselves against her wishes. Though Ferelith had promised the temple would come soon, as she had an interest in what laid within it herself.

The path was quite clear to the camp. And Ferelith wondered how they had missed it so easily before. Or perhaps, they had been far too occupied with their troubles and each other to pay attention to path carved among the rocks. She kicked at the dirt, still a bit dry despite the wet morning, and looked up to the back of her companion who was the only one who managed to sustain any of the information the tieflings had given before. He stopped for a moment, glancing behind him to smile at her, then looking to the others.

“I think we should take a moment to really prepare ourselves for this camp,” he said with an overthought of wishful thinking. “Our main goal is information. We don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“It’ll be fine, Gale,” Ferelith stated, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “We’re only asking a few questions. Getting supplies. There won’t be enough time to do any real damage.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gale whispered slightly to himself with a shrug. “I can think of a few things that could go wrong.”

She ignored him, rummaging through the items in her pack until she felt the cold texture of leather beneath her fingertips. Pulling them out, she gave them one good look before she turned Astarion.

“Here,” she handed him brown leather folded neatly to show the string tied at the top around the collar.

He took them, a bit disgruntled but willingly. Though he wasn’t sure what she expected him to do as she kept searching through the pack.

“Am I supposed to hold onto these?”

“Put them on,” she directed, otherwise paying no mind.

“Right now?” he dipped his head low as he questioned her, staring her in the eyes while waiting for her acknowledgment.

“Yes, right now,” she finally turned to look at him but only for a moment. “You’ve been wearing the same city clothes for days. You should put on some actual leather. One, because it’s more useful. And two, so you don’t look like a complete lost cause.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part because this is a very expensive doublet. And this blouse is of the finest threads in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned lovingly, looking back down into her pack.

Astarion tossed his new leather armor to the side to free his hands. He began to work on his doublet right away. It was already sliding down his arms when Ferelith looked up, catching the back of him in just his white shirt. He looked… nice. It almost made him feel more humble than he really was. Or at least, more approachable. His hands came up, his fingers loosening the collar. Still facing the rock, he pulled the shirt up and her eyes widened as he lifted it. His back flexed and his hands grasped the bottom of his shirt as he pulled it over. She swallowed… hard… as he turned around. What she had assumed was the doublet in all its puffed out glory… had been the actual thickness of the man’s chest. He was lean, but he far from frail. Seeing it off was a revelation and normally she would have felt annoyed at being so wrong about someone’s character. She inhaled a heavy dose of air, holding it for a few moments as she let her eyes wander. He shook the leather tunic out and she admired the muscle in his forearm tensing as he did. Slowly, she exhaled, observing him turn around with his arms raised trying to pull down the armor. She counted each curve of his abdomen with a small smile. Then, nodding with a bit of appreciation, she looked back down into her bag.

“Well, you certainly have no shame,” Gale nudged her.

“What?” she shrugged with a coy smile. “I’m in the wilderness. My eyes get hungry, too.”

“Careful. Some of the tastiest looking berries are the most poisonous.”

“Better than death by ceremorphosis.”

******************************************************

The back of Zevlor whisked away, his tail thrashed back and forth with irritation as he left. There was something about a tiefling that left an excitement behind for Ferelith. Like a small trail of flame. She breathed a heavy sigh, knowing that the flames would grow larger the longer she stared at them. After all, she had just witnessed them in battle. Turning to her comrades, she noticed a slight irritation within their faces.

“What are we messengers, now?” Astarion seemed particularly the worst.

Ferelith stepped close to him, too close for comfort. It made him shift backward, which is exactly what she wanted. He took several steps back just so she could hiss at him out of hearing range of anyone else. She kept her head down as she spoke.

“Listen, we keep all options open. There’s no agreeing. No disagreeing. If we’re stuck here, we best leave all doors open in case we need a way out. That means seeing what we can do about the druids.”

“Ah, I understand, now,” he said, his chest still out further than than his chin to keep her at bay. “This is the sort of thing we should have discussed before our arrival rather than my appearance.”

Ferelith blinked, her eyes gliding up toward him. “I didn’t expect you to complain in front of the whole sodding camp after watching one of them take an arrow to the chest.”

“Like it makes a difference? They’re all going to die anyway.”

Ferelith crossed her arms, her fingers tapping against her forearm. “If we’re not careful, we’ll die too.”

“Fine, fine,” he waved his hand.

“If you’re done,” Gale interrupted. “I believe there’s a merchant just down the hill.”

She gave him one last warning glance before she turned to the direction Gale was pointing. There was a small set up just on the edge of the camp beneath a stretch of a rock archway. It was a grand entrance, nothing at all comparable to a refugee camp. They followed the trail down, glancing further into it and noticing the make shift buildings and rails along the sides. They seemed misplaced to her. Even the shop they approached looked more like a scatter array of things more than any kind of marketplace.

“Refugees… adventurers. No one in years. And suddenly, we’re overwhelmed. Well me,” he greeted them begrudgingly. “Thank you for beating back those goblins. Most brave of you.”

“I do what I can,” she shrugged, not feeling quite worthy of his gratitude just yet.

“Is there anything you need? Act fast if you do. The ritual will be complete before too long.”

“I do,” she paused, observing Astarion round the display. “We’re a bit short on supplies. But we do have a bit of coin. Are they really locking down the grove? I was hoping to rely on the business here for a short time.”

“I know it’s drastic, but more monsters seem to terrorize this region every day.”

“And the tieflings?”

“We druids will be safe-”

The sound of the merchant drowned as she became distracted by Astarion looking through the array of weaponry. She watched as he ran his fingers over the blades along the table, glancing at her with a mischievous smirk. Her eyes shifted back to the vendor, trying to pay attention as best she could. But she kept wandering back to the rogue. He held up a knife, displaying it for her with a raised brow. She shook her head slightly. But he ignored her, giving the air a few jabs and shrugging, setting it back down with a frown. The next one he picked up, waving a hand down in it like it were a grand prize. She swallowed the lump forming to stop herself from bursting with laughter. It did not work and she was forced to clear her throat rather loudly.

“It sounds like these are dire times,” she blinked to regain her focus.

“You sound just like Khaga.”

“Are these the only weapons for sale?” Astarion interrupted, setting down the knife he was holding with a loud thud.

“These are the only ones I am selling,” he lowered his brow. “There’s a blacksmith further into the camp. Though I’m not sure he has much to offer.”

“Thank you,” Ferelith said loud enough to draw his attention back. “Here’s what I have for… oh, I think a few potions will do.”

“Of course.”

She passed Gale the bottles as they were handed to her who began to slip them into the back of her pack. Astarion had lost interest in the wares and moved back to Lae’zel who was impatiently waiting behind them. Her stare was into the gorge, examining the tieflings as if she were able to spot the one with the information she needed. Ferelith was certain she would have already caused chaos if they were not with her. As she turned around, she could hear Astarion grumbling into her ear.

“Things are about to get a lot more dire with those sad excuses for weapons.”

“You’re going to get us kicked out,” she said as she brushed by the two of them. “Let’s find the blacksmith. Find the lead. And get out.”

“Is the blacksmith necessary?” the gith rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” Ferelith said firmly. “I’ve only got two bolts for my crossbow. The ones Astarion found are useless.”

“I warned you,” he shrugged.

“A snapped bolt could have meant my death.”

“It wouldn’t have been my first attempt to kill you.”

“Nor the last,” she said over her shoulder as she trailed further down into the camp.

[thejosh1980]

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

We've sure had a few changes here at The Ocean Shores Resort. It's been a full on month since I last wrote... Through the good, the bad, and the ugly, we've been keeping positive, enjoying the cooler days. Damn summer is hot and long here!!!

The past few months have all been about learning to deal with life's unexpected roadblocks and detours.

There's a lot to tell, but I think the main thing is, at least for me, that I've been a student for the first time the late 1990's. I've spent the past 4 weeks in class, learning, studying, researching, getting to know my classmates and finding all of it challenging, stimulating and exciting.

Studying counseling has been surprisingly awesome for my mental health too. I mean, I have had some really challenging days, especially when it comes to some of the assessments. The first one, well I just about quit the course over it. I really was at my wit's end. An assessment, I suspect, that was created by some office nut job in a government position, who never taught a day in his life and thinks his open ambiguous questions are making it easier for us to answer. I think the whole class suffered sleepless nights that week!! Terrible, but I chipped away at it, persevered and managed to finish it a few days early. Not only that, I learnt a lot about myself and the situation at hand, as you know I'm all about the process.

I learnt that I have to work slowly and meaningfully at these assessments. I can't expect to finish it in one sitting or even in one weekend. Just starting and having a go, finding the easier parts to get done first, using different resources (I love how I can spend the day watching youtube videos and count that as research) and making sure I take time to focus on me with a little bit of self care.

Alex has been super great too, as I delve into this mysterious world of study and being a student. She listens to me talk about the counseling theory of the day, the one we just did in class and how great it is because I can already apply it to friends, family or, more importantly, myself, only to hear me talk about the next theory the next day, like it's gods gift to therapy. She proof reads all my work, debates theories, offers very good suggestions (not only is she super self aware, but she's studied psychology) and somehow, I don't know how she does it, but she knows when I need a break and encourages me to take it. Otherwise I would be at the books day and night.

I've also learnt a lot in class about myself. Part of that comes from comparing my experiences, beliefs and knowledge with my classmates. They are all really great people from a wide variety of backgrounds. But some, push my buttons ever so gently, and I love it. I love the challenge of figuring out why I react to that person that way. What is it I'm feeling and why?

I am thankful this is not an online course!

I've gotten to know some classmates fairly well, and I am surprised at how they openly offer words of appreciation and support. Like “your voice is really calming” and “your vulnerability and openness is a breath of fresh air”. I always thought my voice sounded pretty crap! (Yes I know I sing, but that still doesn't mean I like the sound of my own voice). Also, I never thought I was actually being vulnerable, I always thought that I was just sharing stuff, my stuff, in the hope we can understand each other better. I may have to stop that now....

Nahhhh, just kidding...

The course is something that is right for me, right now. I don't think my mental state would have been ready 2 to 5 years ago, let alone 10 or even 20 years ago!!

Besides the 2 afternoons being ruined by frustration, anger and hopelessness, due to the above mentioned assessment from hell, it's been a good 4 weeks into the year long course. I look forward to each day in class... I even go to the college on my off days to work in the library instead of working from home. I just get more done, even though Mijo misses my lap!

I don't know where the course will take me, I haven't even thought of what job I want to do once I'm a qualified counselor. I hope that during my time as a student, the course will guide me in the direction best suited for me. Learn my weaknesses, follow my strengths and work with both. It's all too overwhelming to think too far ahead. See, I'm learning...

Right here and now... That's all that matters....

During my first week at college, Alex changed jobs. Arriving in Australia and diving head first into real estate sales 1 hour away from home was a real high jump to begin with! The pressure of the job, not to mention the 2 hours a day traveling time, the weekend work and the small size of the business with undefined job roles made it tough! Real tough!

Alex decided to side step into an admin position in a bigger real estate company closer to home with defined job roles, massive support and a very positive outlook. She basically took up her role she had in New York. She's lovin' it! I am too. She's home each night at the same time, doesn't bring much work home with her, other than stories of her awesome day, which I love to hear. Additionally she now has her weekends free to explore and relax too.

She also found a psychiatrist who confirmed her ADHD diagnosis. Alex was originally diagnosed in her early 20's after her turbulent teenage years. She had therapy and medication back then but after a huge burn out in the US, she came back to Germany and let it all lapse. It has been a real struggle for her to cope, and at times, I'll be honest, it has put strain on our marriage. Well, 1 day after her first doc appointment and her meds had kicked in, she's become a new woman. It's been great to get to know this side of her. While things are not 100% perfect, I now have a wife who looks forward to getting up and attacking the day with gusto.

Mum's had a hard run lately too... We all know that I came back to help support her as her eye sight slowly deteriorates. I've been here to read every label, drive her to every appointment and help her work the wonderful world of her laptop, printer and Windows. Alex has been alongside us for the ride too. There's been a few recent health issues that have cropped up. I can't go into detail, but it's fair to say, I can see it was the right time to come home and be here to support Mum.

Mum is strong willed, strong minded and independent, and little of that will change while she can fight against all the odds throwin' at her. It's been a tough couple of weeks, and mum's kept focused on the bigger picture, her health, it's been inspiring.

Mijo has been through the wars.

The little deaf cat recently celebrated his 6 month birthday, but the poor fella has something seriously going on with his health which means we are delaying any big celebrations until his 1st birthday... Besides ringworm (it's not actually a worm, it's a fungal infection), a tooth that won't grow down (it grows directly forward and needs to be surgically removed), no appetite and losing weight, he's doing fine! The poor lethargic fella sleeps all day, which is kind of normal, except I can't remember the last time he had the energy to chase a toy or even run.

I haven't been taking him out much, he needs rest. We did explore the beaches, rivers and parks nearby together, I hope that in a few months I can pick up where we left off. For now he needs rest, calmness and another trip or two the vet.

Through all these ups and downs, we're all actually quite good.

My deep hole from February/March is just a blimp on the computer screen of my life. Studying has raised a few challenges but I am working my way through them, determined to kick that courses ass and learn, learn, learn... One day I hope I can help others through similar struggles as my own.

Alex's struggles with ADHD are progressing in the right direction now and her new job sure was the right call. Mum is showing the world she can take on whatever is thrown at her, and then some.

Alex and I keep going from strength to strength. I'm blessed with her support, respect and love. One classmates already calls her “the awesome wife”, and they've never met!! I guess when I talk about my wife, I reek of pride and love, as it should be.

Thanks for reading,

The Josh

[riaflicke]

The saying went something like, monsters are created not born. And that was exactly how Ria Flicke felt about the demon - or demons, plural, depending on the day - inside of her. It wasn’t always dark, but it was fed enough that it grew and grew until she didn’t know what it felt like to not have the darkness inside of her.

Some of the creation was self-inflicted. It wasn’t like she knew how to walk away from a bad situation or how to let the light win out, no, she let the darkness win and that was her own fault. Over the past few months of alone time and wrestling with questions and curiosities, she managed to figure out how and where the darkness was cultivated, fed and nurtured by the people that were meant to protect her.

AUGUST 17th, 2010, FAIRFIELD, CONNECTICUT (14 years old)

Move in day for Faircrest Preparatory School. Day one of one million of learning to be a spy. Mariana thought that it would be a good idea for Leon to drive Ria to move in. After all, he worked at Faircrest, and she thought it’d be good for the younger Flicke to finally get to know her father. 

Needless to say, it did not get off to a good start. Ria knew two things: her mother was cryptic about her father and the only way to get adults to pay attention to her was to be annoying. And she had lots of questions for Leon which meant she would be extra annoying. 

“Don’t put your feet up there,” Leon turned over to his daughter, who had perched her feet on the all white car dash. “You’re going to get it dirty.” “What?” Ria didn’t dignify him with even a glance, she instead focused on picking a scab on her calf. “Maria-” “Ria.” “Maria,” Leon huffed, “Take your feet off the dash or we’re not leaving this driveway… What did you do to yourself anyway?” “Fell off my bike.” “Don’t you know how to ride a bike?” Picking at the scab until she got it to bleed again (because it definitely made her dad cringe), “Yes. I let go.” “Why?” “It made mom freak out.” She finally moved her feet from the dash, pleased with the furrowed brow her father now had. “And why in the world would you want to do that?” Leon asked in a deadpan tone, clearly frustrated with his daughter’s antics. “It proved mom cares. Somewhere. She got worried.”

The frustration on Leon’s face morphed into one of pride, but in the blink of an eye it was back to neutral. “You’re already thinking like a spy. What has your mother taught you so far?” “Nothing, I’ve known for all of like, three months.” “Alright. Well, we have about six hours ahead of us-” “Joy.” “Don’t interrupt me, Maria. I can’t have my daughter not knowing anything about spyhood. You’re already starting Faircrest at a disadvantage.”

That spoke to the competitive side of Ria and all, but she thought that this ride would be a way to get to know the man she’d wondered about for years. “You’re going to spend six hours talking to me about spy stuff and not like… anything about me?” “I didn’t say that. Anyways, I’ll see you all year on campus, we have plenty of time to get to know each other.” “Ooookay. Weird, but, fine, talk to me about your spy life or whatever…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

Leon glanced over at her, “What were you about to say?” Chewing on her bottom lip, Ria was silent for a little longer before speaking up. “I wanted to ask you a question.” “Fine, ask it then.” “Do you love me?” The words sounded sharp to hide the fear inside. “I don’t know.” Sitting up straighter, the blonde’s face dropped, “How do you not know? I’m your daughter.” “We just met.” “So?” “So,  I need time to decide.” “Do you think you ever will?” “We’ll see.” And he wouldn’t. ‘I love you’ were three words he’d never say. “Fine… Tell me about this spy shit.” “Language.”

JUNE 8th, 2010, FAIRFIELD, CONNECTICUT (17 years old) Whether she wanted to listen to her father or not (spoiler: she didn’t!), Ria wanted to be top of her class. Success was something she could control. Success gave her purpose. Success made it all worth it. So as much as she hated Leon Calder with everything in her being, she kept note of all of his rules and the subsequent tests and trials in a tiny leather bound notebook. It was a pale pink, embossed with “Maria” on the cover - which she had since scratched up with pens and keys until it only read Ria.

With graduation on the corner - and a four year break from spyhood (her parents hated that one) on the horizon - she flicked through the pages, a walk down a very bumpy memory lane.

Rule 1: Control the conversation What’s it mean: - Have conviction in what you say - Stand by your words, even if they’re questionable - Don’t get stuck in webs of lies - Take pride in attention - good or bad - throws people off their game when you embrace an insult

Rule 2: Head not heart What’s it mean: - Don’t lead with emotions ever - Look at things logically bc that’s trustworthy, emotions are fickle - Tears are weakness - avoid at all costs!!!

8/30/10 - first week @ faircrest, dad got me a xanax prescription. told me it’s better to feel nothing than something. haven’t tried it yet 2/1/12 - (middle of soph. year.) - i think i’m addicted  4/29/14 - i’m graduating in 2 months. Idk how to feel bc i don’t think i’ve felt anything in four years. 8/2/14 - i don’t trust my own head

Rule 3: Don’t have a blindspot What’s it mean: - Falling in love means youre caught up in another person - Getting caught up in another person is a weak point - A lover will betray you or will be used against you - Lust =/= love, lust is ok.

11/1/13 - i don’t think ive cared about a single person ive slept with. like at all.

Rule 4: Know what you’re walking into What’s it mean: - Awareness is key - Evaluate every situation in full - ALWAYS keep your guard up or you’ll get backstabbed

12/21/10 - was @ home for christmas, dad snuck up behind me and threw a knife. i ducked in time. said i need to get better at awareness. Wtf.

After twenty or so blank pages, one page of the notebook had a few words written on it in all capitals. They were written more cleanly than the notes and scribbles of yesteryear, clearly written by an older Ria with stronger penmanship.

I THINK IM A MONSTER.

SEPTEMBER THROUGH NOVEMBER, 2020, ROSEVILLE, VA (24 years old)

The fires the year prior had been the first time that Ria remembered crying in over ten years. Something cracked inside of her as the buildings and all she’d used to ground herself started to fall and crackle apart. It was what pushed her to look inside of her. To know why she held so tightly onto the lessons and learnings from two people that couldn’t care less about her. It was what sent her to therapy. 

There were no diagnoses to be found, apart from a self-inflicted dependence on unhealthy relationships and her vices. She lacked the remorse and violence to be a psychopath, and she didn’t have the swings of anger that hallmarked aggression disorders. What was there instead was a shell, a guard that presented itself as sociopathy - but she knew what she was doing, she had remorse, that was where the questions began. How could you display every trait in the book but be ‘normal’ inside? 

The revelation of Blackthorne as a school for assassins had opened up even more of a can of worms, but she ignored it until the start of her third year, as she continued to try and understand what was going on inside of her head. Leon had gone to Blackthorne, yet the alumni didn’t seem to recognize his name. Something was up.

With the help of one of her Faircrest friends, Tobi, she was able to find more on her father. More on his employment records and his history. He’d begun going by his middle name after graduating Blackthorne, Leon Calder instead of Malcolm Calder. Hardly a criminal offense. He had a cross listing with the MI5 (expected, she knew her parents met in London) and a private agency ‘Atkinson Associates’. Further digging revealed it as a hitman agency, one that her father was still actively employed with. 

Once she had that, and access to the files of the company, she went to dig on her own - not wanting to pull anyone else deeper into the mess. The employee roster and files were what she really wanted. Clicking on her father’s, she read through the notes, feeling a gross pit building in her stomach as she learned more. Kill count: 117. Use for: High profile, quickturn jobs. Works both individually and with partners.

Noting that the word partners was linked, Ria clicked on it, skimming quickly over unknown names until she settled on the name of a former partner. One she knew too well. Mariana Alice Flicke.

“No…. no no no…” But she couldn’t stop, she had to know more about her mother. Kill count: 2. Use for: Track erasure and evidence destruction. 

She didn’t know if it made her feel better or worse that her mother was typically non-violent… Even if she condoned the violence. Blue eyes kept scanning the profile of her mom. Employment Terminated: September 30, 1995 Reason: Pregnancy.

“No wonder he hates me so fucking much.” She took Mariana out of the field, she took his partner away… But that wasn’t her fault! Hovering over the word pregnancy, Ria’s brow furrowed. Another link. There was no reason that needed to be linked. Everyone knew how pregnancy worked!

After a long stare off with the link, she finally clicked on it. The curiosity eating away at her. It pulled up what looked like an incomplete profile, one with nothing but the key statistics. And she didn’t even need to read them, they were ones she knew by heart. Name: Maria Grace Flicke Date of Birth: June 6, 1996 Start Date: To Be Determined.

She wanted to stop scrolling, but her hand kept moving, the answers were finally there. Whether she liked them or not. 

Current Status: 

Atkinson Associates Case study 001.:  Nature versus Nurture

- Developing the mindset of an assassin from day one - Utilizing upbringing to control later characteristics, thought processes, and disposition

None of her mania was an accident. It was all part of a bigger plan that she never wanted to be a part of. Each demon was planted inside of her by the people that were supposed to love her most.

And the only way she could deal with this was to let out an ear-piercing wail.

[notwritinganyflufftoday]

How to Break Every Rule in The Caretaker’s Handbook: Excerpt

The First (of many?) Group Sessions with Sunflare

Characters: Dewdrop, Fifi, Helia (mentioned), Plume, Sunflare, Violet

Themes: how to keep an open mind, reminiscing, character study

Words: 1297

"I'm only here to observe," Sunflare says while hanging off my arm. It's the third time he repeats himself and I still don't know what he wants to hear from me.

Maybe he just wants to turn back to spend time together in the privacy of my room. I won't lie, that does sound tempting, but we shouldn't right now.

I tug Sunflare along the road to the meeting place and sense his ever-growing resistance as he starts dragging his feet. I stop in my tracks and turn to him.

Placing both of my hands on his shoulders, I say: "My Sunbeam, no one is gonna force you to talk, but I would really appreciate it if you could go into this with an open mind and don't be afraid to voice your opinions."

"I can't make you any promises," Sunflare fixes me that warm, 'you're so irritating but I like you regardless' look and sighs, "but I'll try my best to be open-minded today."

"That's all I can hope for."

"Now let's go before I change my mind."

I let go of his shoulders and lead him further into the garden. I feel his hand slip into mine, oh so naturally, and suddenly it's like we're young saplings again, exploring our world with a naïve sense of wonder. Our adventures would last hours or even days if we were lucky. They always left me more energised, but in hindsight, I think Sunflare had trouble keeping up with me.

Our adventure in the garden lasts only a few minutes before we reach a clearing where the others are already waiting for us. Fifi's sitting behind Violet, braiding little daisies in her hair. Plume lies down in the grass beside them, one foot sticking up in the air, twirling idly in circles.

"Do I wanna know where Helia is?" I ask, as countless doom-scenarios fill my mind.

Violet opens her mouth to speak, but Plume is faster, "No, but she's gonna regret she missed you bringing your beau over."

My attention is pulled back to my hand still holding Sunflare's. I inconspicuously slip my hand out of his hold in favour of crossing my arms. I ignore Plume's remark and turn to Violet. "What were you about to say, Violet?"

Violet smiles like she bit into a sour plum and says, "Well, it's just, Helia told me to tell you that she's, um, busy reading a book."

"Wow, she really didn't even try with that lie, did she?" Plume comments dryly and receives a punch from Violet in the shoulder along with distressed shushing noises.

They're acting as if I haven't already figured out how Helia works. If I didn't know her any better, I'd assume this was indeed a poorly crafted lie, but Helia very well may be reading a book right now...  in the library... from which she is banned to enter. Well, if she manages to break in, then I'm sure she'll worm her way out of trouble as well.

I let all thoughts and worries about Helia drift from my mind (for now) and sit down cross-legged on the grass. It takes only a few moments and a couple of looks from Violet and Fifi, for me to realise Sunflare is still standing up, like his feet are frozen to the ground.

"You can sit down, you know," Plume says without looking. Even though they've switched which foot to stick in the air, the twirling motion never stops. It’s a nervous tic, but who it’s making more nervous I don’t know. Plume, Sunflare or me?

Sunflare focuses his dark brown eyes on me and for a split-second I struggle to breathe.

"Where do you want me to sit?"

It's difficult to hear him speak when his voice gets soft like that, but not impossible.

I reply, "Sit wherever you want."

"On the grass?"

"Did you expect us to sit on chairs placed in a neat circle or something?" My question is 90 percent sarcasm, but from the way Sunflare stays quiet, I realise that yes, he did think that. "Never mind, just..." I end my sentence by patting the empty spot on the grass next to me.

I don't even need to look at Sunflare to know he's on edge. The tension is so thick it practically radiates off of him. After what seems like ages, he obliges, but the tension doesn't let up.

I decide not to waste anymore time with idle chatter and jump right into this meeting.

"Violet, why don't you start," I suggest, "I believe you had something you wanted to discuss during this session?"

"Right, right," She mutters. It's clear she hasn't prepared what she's planning to say yet, but she makes a valiant attempt anyway. "I've, uh, been having a bit of trouble with Nia lately. She's really excited about going to college and all, but I think she's been taking on too much stuff, you know? I just know it's gonna take a toll on her physical and mental well-being in the long run, but... I really don't know how I can broach the topic without bursting the happy bubble she's in." Her eyes make contact with Sunflare and she needlessly adds, "Nia's my human by the way."

"I figured as much," replies Sunflare.

Plume puffs their cheeks and groans as if listening to the problems of others is the greatest kind of punishment they could suffer through. "I think you should just rip off the band-aid and give her a reality check."

Fifi, who's only been observing up till now, shakes her head vigorously. "Slow down." She gestures by trailing her index finger up her arm. "There's more to consider before offering advice."

Plume has a tendency to ignore Fifi, purely because they don't look at others when speaking. However, Fifi makes a good point, so I reiterate what she said to Plume.

Plume's foot stops moving for a moment and they open their eyes. "Sorry, Fifi."

She raises her thumb. "It's okay."

"Anything else you want to add, Fifi?"

"Nia is taking on too much stuff, how come?" She directs this question to Violet.

"Oh, well, she's taken up art classes again and sighed up to be a student council member. On top of that she has to balance her actual classes. It's only the beginning of the semester so she doesn't have too many assignments yet, but... she will soon."

"Is it possible that you might be getting worried a bit prematurely?" I ask.

"No offense, Dewdrop, but her human has a history of frequent hospital stays and health scares. She has every right to be concerned," Plume interjects.

I raise my hands up in defense, "Hold on, Plume, I was merely considering the possibility."

"And it isn't possible, obviously," Plume snaps in return. Something is clearly going on with them, but confronting them right here and now about their negative attitude would be the singlemost foolish thing to do.

Plume will have to talk eventually (I hope) and my focus now should be on de-escalating the conversation and bring it back to the topic at hand. 

I wonder what Sunflare is thinking about all of this. I'm slightly surprised he hasn't attempted to run away yet, considering how tense he was at the start of this. Furthermore, he's always been terrified of even the slightest hint of a conflict brewing. And Plume is singlehandedly brewing up a storm.

But instead of meeting a frightened little sapling, I'm greeted by a seasoned caretaker who has seen his fair share of conflict over the many centuries he's been alive. The expression on Sunflare's face is a far cry from fear, it's interest and a hint of amusement.

"What's so funny?" I lean in to whisper to him.

"Seems like keeping an open mind to consider all possibilities isn't doing you any favours, is it?"

***

Taglist: @theramwrites, @giosele

[ronoken]

The Case of the Shattered Window

My youngest daughter was reading some old Encyclopedia Brown books and liked them, but wanted some geared towards girls.

That’s fair. Nancy Drew didn’t hit with her, and also that’s, like, the only girl detective series we could find. I’m sure there’s more. I would hope there’s more.

So, I’ve been working on something in my spare time. I have several done, but here’s the first.

The Case of the Shattered Window

 Nothing much happened in the small town of Billsburg. At least, that’s what the adults would tell you. From the outside, the town seemed completely ordinary. From the hot summers filled with the sounds of children playing in the streets outside and splashing down at the public pool, to the chilly, snow-filled winters that blanketed the roads and cancelled school, Billsburg seemed like the most unimportant, mundane little burg that anyone could ask for.

The children of Billsburg knew otherwise. For you see, living on an unassuming cul-de-sac in a two-story brick home was a trio that had become legends to anyone under the age of eighteen. They were the Frye sisters, and if the town was normal, the Frye sisters were anything but.

Now, that’s not to say that they didn’t behave like ordinary girls. They bickered and fought with each other and went to school and played with their friends like most girls their age. However, when trouble reared its ugly head, you could count on the Frye sisters to take center stage. When a kid in the neighborhood had a problem, the Frye sisters were the ones everyone went to. Each sister had their own special talent, and when they worked together, there was practically nothing they couldn’t accomplish.

The oldest, Lilian, was your standard pretty blonde middle schooler. While at first glance she might have appeared like a wisp of a thing, she was the muscle of the group, and did not put up with her sisters (or anyone else for that matter) getting bullied. Everyone, even the rough and tumble teens of Billsburg knew that it wasn’t worth it to get into it with Lilian. Not unless you wanted a black eye, that is.

The middle Frye sister, Elanor, was known for her ability to persuade anyone to do practically anything. Under her long, messy brown hair was a set of wide eyes and a disarming smile, but those weren’t her biggest weapons. She was a talker, and she knew exactly what to say to get people to do what she wanted. While this concerned her parents to some degree, it had served to help Elanor and her sisters to get into and out of trouble more times than anyone could count.

The youngest, Gwendolyn, was where the trio went from impressive to legendary among the children of Billsburg. The tiny, usually messy redhead could be found digging for worms, playing in leaves, and doing everything she could to get herself dirty when playing, but when a mystery needed to be solved, there were few people out there who could match her sharp, deductive mind. She was the sleuth of the group, and even if it didn’t seem like she was paying attention, you’d better believe that there was nothing that got by her keen gaze.

So, when a child needed help, and when it was the kind of help that adults are unable or unwilling to provide, that child knew that they could turn to the Frye sisters. For a fee, of course. It was Elanor that handled the books, and while all three sisters were happy to lend their services where they could, they admitted it was nice to collect a dollar a job.

One such job arrived on a normal, June day in the form of a sweaty young man standing at the Frye family door. Lilian opened the front screen to reveal Tommy Lawson from one street over. He was covered in grass stains and looked like he was about to cry.

“I need to hire you,” he said as he wiped some sweat from his forehead. Whether it was because they were bored or they had heard him, the other two Frye sisters appeared behind Lilian and took in the sight of their messy neighbor.

“Well, we’re always up for a new job. So, what happened to you?” Elanor asked.

“I was mowing Mrs. Wilkinson’s yard down the street,” Tommy said as he pointed down the lane. “It’s part of my new business.”

“Business?” Elanor perked up. “What business?”

Tommy dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card. It read

TOMMY LAWSON: LANDSCAPE SERVICES

“You’ll get plenty of work in this neighborhood,” said Gwen. “Have you tried Mr. Linkletter down the street? He can’t mow with that bad back of his.”

“I won’t be getting much of any business now,” Tommy sighed. “Not after what happened with Mrs. Wilkinson.”

All three girls asked at once. “What happened?”

“Well,” Tommy started, “I had spoken with Mrs. Wilkinson about handling her yard, and she was fine with it. I charged her ten bucks for the front and back, and she threw in a bottle of pop since it’s so hot out.”

“That’s not too bad,” Lilian said.

“Anyway, I had just gotten done with the front and went around to the back shed to get her gas can to refill her mower when I heard Mrs. Wilkinson shout for me. When I came back around to the front, her bay window was shattered. Mrs. Wilkinson said I must have hit a rock and smashed it, but I didn’t! Her window was fine when I went around back.”

“That’s rough,” Lilian said.

Tommy nodded. “Mrs. Wilkinson told me to go home and that she was going to make my dad pay for the window, but I wasn’t the one who threw the rock.”

“You think someone smashed it on purpose?” Gwen asked.

“I sure do,” Tommy said. “I was back there for a good few minutes. Someone had time to throw a rock and book it out of there, easy.”

“So, who do you think threw the rock?”

“Well,” Tommy said, thinking about it for a moment. “Mrs. Wilkinson told me I could mow her yard because the other kid she hired was doing an awful job. I think she’s the one who smashed the window.”

“She?” Elanor asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Sally Parker.”

“Parker,” Lilian growled. She cracked her knuckles as her face darkened with anger. “Well, that explains everything.”

Sally Parker was known by most parents in the neighborhood as the most perfect little angel this side of Heaven. The local children, however, knew her to be quite the devil in disguise. Anytime there was mischief, you could bet your last penny that Sally Parker had something to do with it.

Lilian started marching past Tommy to go give Sally a talking to, but Gwen grabbed her arm. “Wait. We can’t just go over there and beat her up, Lils.”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” Lilian pulled her arm free and started walking again.

“We need proof that Sally broke the window,” Gwen said. “If we can get that, then Tommy’s dad won’t have to pay for the damage and Tommy won’t lose a customer.”

Lilian thought about this and then put her hands in her pockets. “Fine,” she grumbled.

“Speaking of clients,” Elanor said with a smile as she scooted in front of Tommy. “We would be happy to take your case, provided you can pay?”

Tommy nodded. “If we can prove Sally did it, then Mrs. Wilkinson will pay me, and then I can pay you. Does that work?”

Elanor sighed. “Yeah. Gotta admit, this feels a lot like a charity case…”

“Oh, stuff it, Lanes. Tommy’s a friend,” Gwen said. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s go talk to Sally and get to the bottom of this.”

Sally lived several streets over in a tidy house with light blue siding. Gwen knocked on the door while the others stood close behind.

After a few moments, the door opened and there stood Sally Parker. She was tall, as in a full head taller than even Lilian. She towered over the group and sneered at them with her hands on her hips. She also had curly black hair that she wore short. Gwen suspected it was because Sally thought it made her look mature. Sally claimed that she had gone through a growth spurt, but a lot of the neighborhood kids suspected she had just been held back a year.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Sally said in a voice that was both sweet and sarcastic all at once. “The three little pigs and the big bad doof. What do you losers want?”

“You know why we’re here!” Tommy said angrily. He started to advance, but Lilian put her hand on his shoulder. She was itching to give Sally a piece of her mind for a number of reasons, but at the moment, this was Gwen’s show.

“No, I really don’t,” Sally said with a bored expression. “I’m honestly surprised to see you here. I haven’t even been out today.”

“Really?” Gwen asked. “Tommy here thinks you smashed Mrs. Wilkinson’s window earlier while he was helping her out. Do you know anything about that?”

“Excuse me?” Sally asked in an irritated tone. “You wanna accuse me of something, jerk?” She balled her hand into a fist and made to move on Tommy, but one look from Lilian made her stop. Lilian was the only kid in the neighborhood who had ever stood up to Sally. It had been a disagreement the summer before about a bike; Lilian had bought it with her chore money and Sally decided it belonged to her, instead. One quick punch from Lilian put the matter, and Sally, down for good.

“Were you at Mrs. Wilkinson’s earlier today?” Gwen asked.

“I told you,” Sally huffed. “I was inside all day. I couldn’t have seen this loser mowing her lawn; I was busy watching TV. There’s a reality show marathon about tiny houses and I’ve been positively glued to it. Go bug someone else, jerks.”

Sally stood aside to prove her point. Behind her was the living room, and on the television was a show focusing on what appeared to be very small homes.

“Huh,” Tommy said. “I could have sworn that it was her.”

Elanor patted Tommy on the shoulder as Sally started to close her door, but before she could, Gwen put her foot out and blocked her. “Before you go back to your show,” Gwen said, “I was curious, is you mom home?”

“What do you wanna know that for?” Sally asked.

“Well,” Gwen said, “it’s like this. You’re either going to come with us and admit to Mrs. Wilkinson that you smashed her window to make Tommy look bad so she would hire you back, or we tell your mother you not only smashed the window, but tried to lie your way out of it. Now, which is it going to be?”

 HOW DID GWEN KNOW SALLY WAS LYING?

   Solution to the case of the Shattered Window

Sally claimed that she had been inside all day watching television and that she couldn’t have been anywhere near Tommy or Mrs. Wilkinson’s house, but if that was the case, how did she know Tommy was mowing her yard? All Gwen had ever said was that Tommy was helping Mrs. Wilkinson, she never said how he was doing it. Once Gwen pointed this out to Sally, Sally confessed that she had thrown the rock to make Tommy look incompetent as a mower. Sally then admitted everything to Mrs. Wilkinson and paid for a new window out of her savings.