#ive been wanting to for a while and never did but found physical volume and may have gotten... a few.

[the-sum-of-ones-parts]

decided finally to do the incredibly predictable and pick up fist of the north star

[technowoah]

could you do 21 and 23 from the prompt list with george x gn! or fem!reader?

btw i adore your writing!! i love all your ideas and your imagines are so original ahhh i love them sm

So Cliché [3:41 am]

TYSM! OMG THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME🤚🏾😭

Also sorry this came out so late

I am guessing the prompts are from the fluff list, but if this isn't what you wanted I'll do it from the angst list!

21) "Are you up? Do you need me to stay up?"

23) "Pinki promise kiss"

⚠︎ swearing, fluffy stuff, i didn't proofread 😪

Your eyes adjusted to the dark bedroom you were in. The door was closed and the curtains were slightly opened letting in the slightest slither of light inside. The sun hasn't rose yet and your body felt heavy. You turned around under the warm covers of your bed and looked at the clock beside your bed that shined 3:41 am.

You groaned as you rotated around in bed until you found a comfortable way to lay down. Time seemed to be going slower when you woke up, the need to sleep flooded your mind but you just couldn't relax. Turning around again you faced your closed door that led to the hallway. The door always had to be at least cracked and not completely closed, but your roomate was making too much noise at an ungodly hour.

Living alone wasn't good for you at all, you didn't feel comfortable living alone. It was so quiet all the time and no one was around to entertain you or comfort you when things went bump in the night until your friend George suggested that you moved in with him. You always complained that you needed a roommate so he proposed the idea that you two moved in together to make you feel safe.

A few days from that conversation you packed your things and moved in with George. Slowly but surely you moved all of your things into George's place and he was always there to help. George had two bedrooms in his house and they were right next to eachother. You both woke up around the same time and went to bed at totally different times.

George and you always made breakfast together, sat around the house thinking of things to do and just end up sitting on the couch watching anything interesting he finds, doing chores and going out quickly to then inevitably end up back to the couch to do absolutely nothing. George always ended up sleeping while you two had this time together because he stayed up so late you dont know how he could sleep like a baby like that all the time. He ended up either laying on the armrest of the couch or on your shoulder. You always thought that was uncomfortable for him, but he always ended up there. The last couple times he ended up laying on your thighs which flustered you the first time, and the second, basically anytime he goes to lay on your lap you tense up.

You weren't afraid of physical touch, but this was new to you, you've grown accustomed to George and you think you a crush evolved from nothing. You two have been really close and it all started with a stupid Minecraft server. Ever since you moved in you two have grown closer than ever and your complicated feelings if you would want George as a boyfriend or not flooded your mind as we speak.

[4:01]

You still couldn't sleep and it was becoming a problem. You tossed and turned until you felt comfortable and began to count sheep, but you already got to 40 and didn't feel sleepy at all. Encasing yourself underneath your covers didn't help, it only made you hot. You were wide awake at this point. You had sat up and got out of your bed slipping on some fluffy socks and quitely opened the door and shuffled your way to the living room. You tried to stay quiet trying to keep George asleep as you turned on the TV.

Turning down the volume you sat there for a while underneath a blanket you and George had on the couch for times like this. You had a throw pillow underneath your head while you layed horizontal, across the couch. Two shows later and your eyes began to droop, it was a sense of accomplishment because you were finally sleeping so you stayed there still so you continue to lull yourself to sleep.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" George asked with tired eyes and gravelly voice. "Are you up? Do you need me to stay up?"

"Fuck you George. I was about to go to sleep. I kinda want you up with me." You complained as you pulled the blanket over your head with your eyes still closed.

"C'mon silly get in your bed. Were you here all night?" George said while leaning against a wall, clearly still tired.

"No. I couldn't sleep. Why are you here?" You asked, but your words mumbled together.

"I heard the TV." George pointed at the TV that was illuminating objects in the dark.

You hummed and he did as well. "Are you okay bub?"

You had a small smile on your face, you loved the small petnames he gave you. You had a small feeling that he didn't mean it in the romantic way you wanted it to be.

"I woke up and cant sleep now. I was almost asleep, but you came in so.." You said still drowsy from staying in the state of in-between being awake and sleep.

"Im sorry." George said with his head against the wall, eyes closed. "Mm sorry I'm tired." George wiped his face.

"Could you sleep with me?"

"What?" George asked laughing slightly.

"No not that, just sleep in the same bed." You said. Your brain was just working on his own. You wouldn't have said this if you were awake, but you were desperate and needed sleep. Also you were touch starved and your crush on George was becoming more apparent each day, but that wasnt the point now.

"Yeah I'll do that." George said while pushing himself off of the wall.

"What?" You said thinking he would reject the offer.

"You sound like me. Come on." George said making his way over to you and reaching his arms out. You sat up looking at him with half open eyes and ended up grabbing both of his hands to pull yourself up.

Once both of you were on your feet you both lazily made your way to your bedroom. You mad yourself comfortable under the covers while George sat ontop, restricting the cover's movements.

"You're ontop of the blankets, it's weird." You mumbled.

"Sorry, sorry. Um, what would you want me to do?" George asked as he got off of the bed and stood there awaiting for an answer.

Your back was facing towards him when you answered. "Come on under the covers, I dont bite." You faced towards him when you said that.

He smiled a bit and then got under the covers with you, he layed on his back facing the ceiling and his hands on his stomach. He was uncomfortable.

You turnedon your side facing George. "Are you uncomfortable? If you want you can leav-"

"No! No. Im just- Ive never done this before you know. I've never comforted anyone like this." George quickly said.

"Like cuddled anyone?"

"Like cuddle, yeah."

A silence fell upon you two until George laid on his side facing you. His face was close to yours and you tried not to freak out right in front of him. He reached his hand across your body and started to rub your back. You shuffled your body a little so that your heads weren't at the same level, you were level with his chest and you got closer leaning your forehead against his chest. You both got more comfortable and got closer in touch, he soothingly rubbed your back trying to lull you to sleep.

It was a while that you both layed like this, basking in eachothers comfort

"I wish I could sing like Wilbur. That would make this moment better." George whispered against your hair.

"You being here makes this moment already great though." You whispered as well hoping he could hear you.

"Really?"

"Really. I mean it. I love this." You pulled him close.

"I love 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ."

"I love you too."

You smiled with your eyes closed. "Promise you love me?"

"Pinki promise I love you." George lazily locked both of your little fingers together.

"Pinki promise kiss." You puckered your lips hoping he would get the hint.

You heard George chuckle and he softly pecked you lips, it was like he was testing the waters. You opened your eyes and he had a small tired smile on his face, the two of you ended up giggling like little kids and then going back into the calming state you both were in.

Thank God for you both being in that state of tiredness. You just hoped that you both remembered what happend at [4:32 am] when you both wake up.

EXTRA:

You were alone in the kitchen this morning making pancakes. George hasnt met up with you yet and you questioned why. Yes you remembered last night and you're glad that you finally had the courage to say that you loved him, but it wasn't how you pictured it happening.

You flipped your pancake as George came put from around the corner looking fresher and more awake than last night. He smiled at you and made his way over to you. He closely stood by you and reached over your head to grab a glass from above. He only stepped that closely to you to grab a glass.

You begun to think that he forgot about last night's kiss. He had filled his glass with ice and then with water he stood over by the refrigerator for a while until he walked over to you.

You had just finished the second pancake of the day and faced George who was stood beside you waiting for your attention. He smiled at you and slowly leaned down and gave you a kiss on your lips. It was slow and longing, like he wanted to do this for quite a while. One of his hands found the side of your face and the other one pulled you closer by your waist. He then pulled away having a big smile on his face, you matched his smile clearly glad that he did that and remember.

"This is so cliché you know that right?" You laughed.

George rolled his eyes playfully. "Exactly, I feel like I've read this somewhere before."

"Like on Wattpad?" You jokingly asked.

"Yeah I read a bunch of DreamNotFound fanfiction on there." George said as he swayed you back and forth along with him.

"Hey~!"

"I'm just kidding! And I pinki promised didnt I?" George rose his eyebrows.

"You did! You did!" You smiled at him and he matched your smile again.

"I love you." George said.

"I love you too." You replied.

"I could get used to this!"

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part IV)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter Summary: Talk doesn´t seem to be like a good attack plan and now reader has to run for their life and avoid being caught by the Jaegerists.

Words Count: 6.1k

Silence reigned in the room. Only our breaths could be heard, some agitated, others calm, as well as footsteps fading at the end of the corridor. I could feel my heart pounding hard on my chest, inwardly wishing that no one could hear it. From the distance that each one was, I doubted it was physically possible; But let's face it, in a world full of humans turned into Titans, whose possessors can regenerate their body parts, listening to the beat of a heart shouldn’t be a difficult task.

"I wanted to speak with you"

Eren's lifeless eyes weren't focused on anyone in particular, I could notice his face even darker than it had been in recent days and a look much duller. My hand on the table was very close to his, threatened with blood staining from the crimson pool that was forming on the beautiful white tablecloth.

On my left side, the little girl was shaking up and down, not looking at anyone or anything at all. She also had her hands on the table, as did everyone. I directed my gaze towards the other companions at the table, the three were reversed in a conversation that I had no intention of being part of. The only thing that interested me was to give a little security to this poor girl.

I made a little movement with my elbow and shoulder toward her, trying to get her attention, but it didn't make her turn around. I tried again, this time launching a breathless and very low 'hey', taking advantage of the voices at medium volume to lighten mine. That did work. The girl had turned her eyes to me, she was still extremely scared and it showed in her eyes and all over her face. I was very sorry to see her like this.

I gave her a slight smile, curling the tip of my lip upward, and nodded. Her gaze locked with mine for a few seconds and I could see how she was calming down, even a little, but it was there. It was a stressful situation for everyone, I didn't even want to imagine what she must feel, and if my possibilities were within bringing her some calm, I would. I made a little "s'ok" with my lips without speaking, not even whispering.

"Are you paying attention?" My gaze turned to the source of the problem again. Eren had his eyes fixed hard on my face. I thought I might have gone unnoticed, but I was wrong.

I adjusted my posture on the chair, now staring forward, but with my eyes fixed on those intense but haggard gray-green eyes. I took my gaze away from his for a second to see the girl next to me, who was again trembling with fear, and I reached my hand towards hers, returning my gaze to it’s previous position. Eren  clenched his fist at this movement and furrowed his brow even more, sending me a silent and mental warning. I ignored his threat and grabbed the girl's hand, at no point taking my eyes off his and accentuating my head up high.

"Keep your hands on the table Mikasa"

His gaze now turned to his childhood friends, standing myself alone at the side of the table, failing incredibly to calm a twelve-year-old girl. And as if there was nothing that could make the situation worse and make the moment much more stressful, they had to touch on sensitive issues, issues that were like putting a finger on the sore.

"Armin, you keep going to see Annie, do you really do it of your own free will?" Was it really necessary? There was nothing, or so it seemed, that could give any indication that Annie was about to wake up, and the fact that Armin wanted to go see her didn’t seem bad at all, or at least that’s what I thought; Indeed, it clearly showed Armin's sentimental attraction to her.

Yes, Annie was an important key to the investigation of the titans, but that was four years ago, now we were just sitting back in the chair and hoping that, by some miracle, the glass that surrounded Annie and left her in a reverie state will unfreeze. That Armin came to see her didn’t change anything in the plans of the militancy, much less the legion.

"Since you inherited the memories, a part of you is now Berthold"

Ah, that’s where the shots came from. It was difficult to understand the powers and responsibilities that came with being a titan shifter. We weren’t only talking about the short life that the owners unfortunately had to endure, but also the memories of their predecessors, memories that could haunt their current owner.

Likewise, blaming Armin for Berthold's memories wasn't going to fix things. Armin was still Armin, the sweet and calm boy, willing to fight if necessary, but always opting for the least violent solution, the most civilized one. He tried it on Annie and he tried it on Berthold, failing both times.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to blame Armin for having the memories of one of our enemies in his mind, memories that I never wish to obtain or see. As far as I knew, Grisha's memories, while they had been an impact towards the general knowledge of the world, hadn’t shaped Eren ... had they?

Nor was it fair to see how the same boy who had so supported his childhood friend in the years as a recruit, was internally unbalanced by the stubbornness of that friend. See how fear invaded his gaze and he was petrified to such putrid revelations.

"Eren ..." I tried to stop him, God, I swear I tried to stop him.

I tried to use the word my comrades wanted to use so badly, the words Armin wanted to use, but they weren't enough. In a thousandth of seconds, horrific ideas flashed through my mind, wishing none of them would come true. If the conversation went this way, it could end not just a friendship of years, but the sanity of all of us. I wasn't important in this trio, I was an add-on, and I couldn't allow Eren to continue destroying relationships and people wherever he stepped.

But I wasn't quick enough to stop him with words. When he finished defenestrating Armin, he turned his attention to Mikasa. Of all the people, the one who I was most afraid was her, the person who would collapse the most if he detached himself from her half-brother.

"You too Mikasa"

My eyes went wide as I heard the truths of the Ackerman clan. Created and genetically engineered to protect and follow orders, without conscience, without free will. Mikasa was devastated and I could see in her eyes how images of her childhood passed through her mind, images and memories that now seemed like a lie, a sham.

"In short ... a clan created to protect others who have no conscience of their own"

"Eren, stop" Armin was just as scared as I was, praying to any God who had been watching us that so much evil stop at once, that those words would stop coming out of that damn viperine tongue. Eren was vomiting word after word, without measuring the consequences, without measuring the damage it could cause to Mikasa's mind.

"In other words, slaves"

The situation was getting out of hand. Nothing we could say or do right now was going to help. The conversation that Armin wanted with all his might to take place was going overboard. If the others could be present with us, they would see clearly like me how the faith in his friend was dissipating with the seconds in the blond's gaze.

"At last I understand why I hated to see a slave who carried out all orders without question"

His eyes were filled with hatred, resentment, anger, contempt, and a thousand other degenerative feelings. His intention was very clear the moment he entered the room: to hurt; and he was succeeding.

He’d done me a lot of damage in the last year, such damage that it reached the darkest and inner corridors of my mind and it was impossible for me to move forward on a gray and dubious course, and now he was willing to continue doing more damage, this time to his closest friends, those people that I never thought, that never crossed my mind, he could destroy internally. He was annihilating their willpower and their desire to fight, and he’s doing so by colossal steps.

"Eren that's enough!" Armin and I shouted in unison. We didn’t necessary have to say a word or look at each other to know that the next words were going to be disastrous.

"Mikasa, I have always hated you"

That was the breaking point. Mikasa's eyes filled with tears and they didn't last for a second on her lids, they were already being spilled onto her cheeks. She was completely devastated and I couldn't blame her. The person who had given her a home after the brutal murder of her parents, the person to whom she was so devoted and would give her life, was turning his back on her, as well as killing sentimentally.

"You damn bastard!"

Armin jumped on the table with the intention of reaching the dark-haired man, but he didn’t get very far, being pulled from the chest to the hard wood of the furniture by Mikasa herself. And that only made the situation worse and agreed with Eren. It was as if fate was laughing at us for trying to pull the strings of our paths, strings that handled us like puppets and over which we had no control.

Mikasa let go of Armin's hand when she realized the act she just did, horrified with herself, and he now had the opportunity to pounce on Eren, throwing a punch in the middle of his face and throwing him to the floor. With that, the table flew backwards and in a reflex action, I also threw myself back, letting the chair fall to one side and avoiding any blow that the table could give me.

Unconsciously I lunged towards the girl next to me, preventing at all times that the table hit her or that some of the two men who were fighting each other to ended up bumping into her. I pushed her away from any crossing point and hid her behind my back, using my body as a shield against any impact that could shoot towards our position. Mikasa had also run to the left side of the wine cabinet, contemplating the scene before hers with complete sadness.

Eren's fist slammed into Armin's face, throwing him straight into the cabinet, knocking a few wines against his back and knocking a couple of ceramic plates to the floor. My instincts screamed I needed to help Armin, even knowing that he could regenerate in a matter of seconds, that the cuts and bruises weren't going to last long, but that wasn't why I wanted to help him.

It wasn’t the pain and physical blows that worried me, but the psychological anger and damage that this was entailing.

"Jaeger-san!"

Two followers slammed into the room, pointing their rifles directly at Armin and Mikasa's heads. They were unaware of my presence, paying more attention to the boy beaten from head to toe and the girl crying like a river.

I took a step forward and reaffirmed my theory, my presence wasn’t being recognized. I took another step, and another, and another, until I was right next to the fallen table and turned around, making sure the girl was still where I left her, that she was safe and sound. I gestured with my finger to my lips for her to be quiet and to stay still and turned to the scene in front of me. Eren kept beating poor Armin, who was unable to defend himself properly. He was right, in a hand-to-hand fight, Armin would be the worst off, even myself, but that didn't mean I couldn't manage to come out victorious.

Next to me, the chair Eren was sitting at a few seconds ago was still in the same place where he felt. With great care and tranquility, I bent down to grasp the back legs of it, without taking my eyes off Eren or the pseudo-guards who still had with their rifles at a shooting position, raised it to the height of my head and then smashed it against the two armed men in the stomach area. I hurriedly kicked each of them to the face, preventing them from having a chance to get up quickly, just as I slung the rifles from their shoulders with the same leg and pushed them away under a window. Without wasting time, I turned around to find Eren realizing the events that were happening next to him, and I wedged a blow in the middle of his face, in the same way Armin had done.

The blow hadn't been quite strong since he didn't fall to the ground, but it was enough to throw him off balance and make him leave Armin alone. The blonde fell to the floor, exhausted and sore from the multiple punchs to the face he had suffered, and I continued to give a new blow to the stomach height to the brunette in front of me. One of his knees fell to the ground, giving me the opportunity to grab his arm and twist him from behind, immobilizing him. I put my other arm over his armpit, preventing him from moving his arms and his upper body.

“That’s enought you fucking bastard. Mikasa..."

My face was on the crook of Eren's neck, preventing me from seeing clearly ahead, but my partial gaze sought out those tear-filled gray eyes to signal her to help me. My voice was already a signal for help even if I wasn't yelling. I could see how those eyes were full of conflicts, a battle was being fought inside her mind and she seemed to not be able to reason what she saw.

"MIKASA!"

This time I did yell, asking with all my will Mikasa could come to her senses, that she could help me with the lost cause Eren was now. I wasn’t going to be able to control him for much longer, I didn’t have the necessary strength and that was why I was trying to reach her. But the fear in my eyes was reflected when I saw that she wasn’t moving, that she was simply watching with tears in her eyes, eyes that would surely be cloudy and couldn’t see clearly. My fear was reflected when I saw that no one was going to be able to help me.

Eren hit his head against mine, right on the septum of my nose. My head jerked back involuntarily and my arms lost support on his. He grabbed my left hand, holding it high, much higher than my head, uncovering my stomach and his knee hitting it’s pit, not just once, but twice. His leg hit my knee, yanking it back and knocking me off what little balance I had left.

His grip on my hand released and I fell hard on my knees and hands onto the wooden floor. My stomach was spasming and I regurgitated bile, struggling to take in some air that I was deprived of in a matter of milliseconds. I coughed all I could until my stomach settled back, but I was unable to get back to my feet. I felt two pairs of hands grab my arms and I stood up abruptly, grabbing my hair even and looking up as the turquoise eyes set at my point of view.

"Why do you always have to be in the middle? Why can you never stay quiet in a corner without sticking your nose in someone else's butt? " Without my noticing, his fist slammed into my nose, hitting the septum back and most likely breaking it. My head cocked to the side and I could see drops of blood falling to the ground and a stream spreading from under my nostrils to my chin. "It was frustrating to see how in all the missions you were there, being a useless without importance"

Useless? I was the one who treated his wounds in training, tying his head when he hit the stone floor in his practice with the movement equipment. I was the one who put cold water on his ankle when he bent it while running through the lush forest on a rainy day. I was the one who pushed him to the side when he was going to hit a stone face down for not looking where he was going. I was one of those who saved him when he was captured by Reiner and Berthold. I was the one who pulled him out of the middle of an onslaught of titans when he first activated the coordinate, even with a wounded and bleeding shoulder.

I was the one who slapped him to make him stop crying inside the cave when Rod Reiss was transforming, claiming this wasn’t the time for his tantrums and that if he wanted to make a change in this whole twisted story, he better put down the crocodile tears for when he was in the quiet of his bed.

It was me who warned him of dozens of Marleyan soldiers when he shed from his titan back at Libero.

“And yet you continued to stick to me like a lap dog to the leg of it’s owner. Yet another slave. Makes me gag just looking at your face"

I turned my face to him, fixing my eyes on his, conveying all the hatred and contempt he was making me feel. I felt my heart shrink at such crude words, but my duel had started several weeks ago and they didn’t achieve the same effect as with Mikasa. What he did was get me to give him a contemptuous half smile and laugh in his face. His eyes darkened when he saw my reaction. Whether he expected it or not was no longer important to me. He gave a slight nod to the men behind me and I noticed how my arms were gathered around my back and tightened so that I couldn't move. One of them walked away from me and went straight towards Mikasa and Armin, pointing his rifle at their heads.

"Take them, the brat who killed Sasha too"

I wasn’t going to allow it.

My two comrades were pushed into the corridor outside while I glared at them waiting for my turn to go out with the man behind me. The girl was completely scared and she had walked to the door of her own will, perhaps avoiding being further hurt. The moment Eren was about to leave, I slapped my head against the man's face repeatedly until his grip weakened and I was able to move freely again. I turned to him, kneeing him in the face and stomach. When I managed to reduce him to the ground, making him roll into a ball and couldn't move without causing him pain when he breathed, I wanted to turn towards the door with the sole intention of getting the poor girl out of the conflict. My hand was halfway searching for her when Eren grabbed it and yanked me back violently, slamming me against the table.

I lost my balance for a second and as an involuntary act I grabbed the tablecloth, but that didn’t do much, making me fall to the floor in the same way. Eren lunged at me, his body falling completely on top of mine and pinning me to the ground. His legs were positioned at each place of my torso and his fist hit my face not once, not twice, but three times, noticing how the cheek bone began to burn. I lifted my knee to the side of his ribs, my nails finding the skin of his face, and pushed him toward the table, hitting his back against the hard wood and tangling with the tablecloth.

I got up to run, but his leg hit my ankle causing me to fall on my face and hands. When I wanted to turn around again I felt his weight against mine, his legs now better placed on my knees and both hands holding my neck. He squeezed, I felt like the air was beginning to thin, my vision was turning white and I could feel my face redden. I tried to hit him in the face, but I wasn't strong enough to make him stop. I reached the same hand towards my side visualizing one of the chairs thrown by the fight with Armin but Eren was faster and his knee was now pressing against my inner arm.

I was running out of air and at any moment I was going to lose consciousness. In a desperate attempt I turned my eyes around me as best I could and found a bottle of wine broken in half lying a few inches from us, though too far away for me to just reach out. My fingers couldn't even touch the surface of the glass and on my last attempt before I fainted, I pushed myself towards the bottle, grabbed it by the spout, and pulled it towards Eren's face, driving the broken surface onto his cheek and eye. 

Eren grunted in pain and released his hands from my neck, giving me a chance to push him back with both legs and barely get up to run. With cloudy vision and an incredible urge to cough thanks to the pressure on my cervicals and thyroids, I could not make out the whereabouts of the Marleyan girl and ran out the door to the corridor. As I passed the threshold slamming the door wide, rifle bullets were aimed at me, miraculously failing to hit my body. I shrunk my body as much as I could without stopping my feet and looked towards the end of the corridor, finding the second man who was with Armin and Mikasa shooting at me from behind them.

I was about to fall to the ground when Mikasa slammed her shoulder against his, causing him to stagger backward and she struggled to get the rifle out of his hands. In those few seconds of advantage, Armin stepped between the line of fire and me in case any bullets were fired and yelled from his position.

"Go!" I don’t know if it was due to lack of air that I couldn’t react at all quickly and when seeing my indecision to run to where the two of them were or go through the back window, Armin again shouted angrier and more determined "Just go!"

Behind me was a window with broken glass, I assumed due to the bullet holes of the rifle, with a simple blow with my elbow I could break a large part of the glass and jump to the side of the street, but not before giving one last look at Armin and Mikasa, who were still battling the man and Eren coming out of the room half healed and with smoke coming from his wounds.

I fell onto the cobbled street and started running towards the main avenue. My legs were on fire and my lungs were about to collapse, every step I took was a stronger pain in my throat. I wanted to stop and cough to regain normality in my breathing, but I heard behind me the footsteps of people running and yelling to stop me. They were chasing me and if I kept on foot I wasn't going to get very far. I put my fingers to my mouth and whistled as best I could, calling out to Phillip from afar. I had left my horse right at the front door of the restaurant, on the other side of the avenue, so I ran in that direction in order to find him early.

The so-called Jaegerists kept firing behind me, a bullet struck my leg and hit the stone on the ground and ricocheted to the left side against a house. Multiple bullets continued to brush my body, some passing very close to my face and others aimed directly at my legs. In the distance I could see Phillip riding towards me, getting closer and closer. When he came to my side, without stopping, I grabbed his leash and jumped on his back, leaving half my body hanging from lack of strength. I grabbed his neck and motioned for him to turn around and head straight for the avenue.

Phillip was always a fast horse, I thanked the universe for entrusting me to this horse from the first recon mission. He was always there for me, a loyal, strong and very audacious horse, banking me on every expedition and whatever madness crossed my mind to save my companions or myself. I always thanked him for his swiftness and now more than ever I was thanking him in a shaking voice as he continued galloping through the crowd, heading toward the wall’s gate.

Having left the Jaegerists at a considerable distance, I positioned myself correctly on his back, grabbing onto the leash and leaning forward to stroke his head for his great work. I gave myself the freedom to cough and clear my throat of any discomfort, but multiple blows and a firm rumbling behind us made me realize that nothing was over yet, as they were still chasing me, now with their own horses. There weren't many, maybe five or six people and a coach from what I could make out from the hollow of my shoulder, but they were armed and that was what made them dangerous.

I told Phillip to keep riding, to go even faster, to get to the gate as soon as possible. With the riding, the saddle hit my legs and crotch, annoying and hurting me at the same time, but I had to hold it and keep going; we had to get to the gate and fast, very fast. We were a few blocks away when I saw the gate in the distance, wide open and with their respective guards on either side of the threshold.

"Close the door!" I screamed as loudly as I could, feeling my vocal cords tear in the attempt and made my throat hurt even more. The guards turned their heads towards my figure, but none deigned to do what I asked them, they just stared at me stupidly.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!" I coughed as I let out such a scream hoping it was clear enough in the message. Seeing me continue to gallop towards the gate and now hearing the bullets being fired, the guards ran towards the internal mechanism and began to close it, giving me enough time to pass through it without being crushed.

The gate ended up closing when Phillip had already traveled about ten meters outside the wall, leaving the Jaegerists on the other side.

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I dipped my head into the clear water of the river. The cold of the current massaged my battered muscles and cleaned the still bleeding wounds. It was already the third time that I’d put my head in the water and I could notice how little by little the pain was dissipating, but knew that the next day I would have a remotely swollen face and a septum to treat.

We had gotten quite far from the wall, maybe forty minutes or an hour galloping, and we had stayed by the river so as not to get lost. Phillip took the time to drink plenty of water and eat some of the dry grass that surrounded the river; I owed my partner a big one and if it was necessary to spend the little savings I had on a better chair and care for him, I would give it all… but when things were calmer and we could go home.

I lay on my back on the grass into a star-shaped possition and gazed up at the clear sky except for a few fluffy clouds. If it din’t for the recurring events in the last month, I would have taken the liberty of enjoying this beautiful day and the days before that surely there were, but I was too blind and busy to notice them.

The grass felt soft except for a few small stones scattered unevenly and the small field insects that landed on my arms and face and then flew off. It was relaxing, too relaxing. The heat of the sun's rays hit my skin and gave me a comforting sensation that soaked down to my bones, generating a pleasant interior warmth and tingling; I wanted to sleep, I wanted to rest, my body was forcing me to take a break, and this place, this moment, seemed like the perfect one. I closed my eyes, wishing sleep and tranquility would come as quickly as possible, but a vibration in the floor and Phillip's screaming snapped me out of my trance.

I raised my head, surveying my surroundings, the vibrations getting stronger as if they were getting closer. I looked at Phillip and followed his line of sight, far over the horizon, there was a litter of horses galloping over the stone paths that had been built a couple of years ago between each wall. Green overcoats could be distinguished over the horizon of the clear blue sky.

"Fuck, I was hoping to be calm for a couple more hours, come on Phillip"

I got on the back of my horse for the third time that day and directed it to the opposite side of where the other horses were riding. Being in the middle of an open field, there weren’t many houses where to take refuge, even though they had built a lot of houses between both walls. A little in the distance was a lush forest of tall trees, but not as tall as those of the Forest of Giant Trees, that enormous nature of fifty and eighty meters.

We stopped right at the entrance, hoping we had distanced ourselves from the litter of horses, but when I got off Phillip to rest my legs, I saw the path we had come from, and in the distance the same horses that he had seen on the stone path were approaching. There was no longer any doubt that they were the Jaegerists.

I turned my head towards the forest, from what I could see from the entrance the trees weren’t at a considerable distance from each other and the small dirt roads were too narrow. I didn’t know this forest at all and the mere fact of entering without knowing the terrain through the narrow corridors didn’t give me much confidence. But going around it wasn’t a good option either and I would end up being visualized in a matter of seconds. We were in a dead end, in a maze, and I had to play the few cards I had cleverly. I unbuttoned the coat which was already very badly placed on my shoulders and tied it on the strap.

"Phillip I need you to keep running, go as fast as you can and as far as your legs can reach" I pulled the saddle off his back, dropping it to the ground and tried to hide it inside a nearby bush with my foot. I brought his head closer to mine, resting my forehead on his muzzle and stroking his side one last time before saying goodbye.

"Go!" I smacked him on the back and Phillip ran down the narrow forest paths. As for me, I tried to dispel the footprints the horse had left behind before sending me to run down another path and go as far as I could into the heart of the forest.

I ran, ran and ran, my legs were on the edge, branches and thorns were digging into my skin making it burn every time other scratches were created in the same place. At this fact, I was resigned to the fact my clothes were bleeding and torn, as well as the matted hair and bruises on my body. My foot made contact with a tree root and I fell between the others, right in a hole, hitting my head and shoulder in the fall. I scraped my arm too, and my shirt was now full of dirt and dry leaves; surely my hair was the same. I heard heavy footsteps near me and I rolled into a ball in the hole, hiding behind the tree and seeking its protection.

"Find them, we can't let them escape"

Six people broke up and each one ran in a different direction in search of me. For an instant, my heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched when I saw one of them pass by the side of the tree where I was. At no point did he turn towards my location so I was able to breathe again. Minutes passed until I stopped hearing nearby footsteps, I got up leaning against the bark and kept walking inward, finding myself up a steep hill down.

I let gravity guide me and my feet unconsciously ran downward, avoiding rocks and bushes along the way. As I reached the low surface of the hill I tripped over my feet, losing my balance and colliding with a small tree that was right in the middle of where I was walking. As I stood up and turned it around, I came face to face with a Jaegerist, hooded, rifle in hand.

"Hey! You- "

My reflexes acted on instinct, my leg went straight to his ribs, hitting him squarely in the side of his stomach. I grabbed the rifle with both hands and hit it with the butt on both sides of the face and discarded it to the side when blood began to come out of his mouth. My hand went straight to his head, slamming it against the tree over and over again without stopping until his body fell unconscious on the grass. The interaction lasted no more than fifteen seconds, but it felt like I was about to explode. So many blows received and produced were leaving collateral effects on my body; at any moment I would pass out.

During the three years of training I have gotten used to physical confrontation and body training that lasted more than five hours, not to mention the months we spent annihilating each Titan within the walls. Those missions that lasted all day, if not more, were nothing compared to what my body was going through right now.

I sat next to the body, trying to catch my breath and rest my eyes. I rested my head on the tree and when I opened my eyes I saw a black figure in the middle of a grove a few meters away. He didn’t carry a rifle and seemed to have no intention of running to any specific place, he simply deigned to look around him, at the ground and towards the treetops. I froze to see Eren staring down at the body.

I shrank as much as I could to the left, hiding in the middle of the bushes, body to the ground, without taking my eyes off that figure that was now heading towards the unconscious body of one of his followers. I crawled back until I found a tree wide enough to hide.

"I know you are here"

It was the only thing I heard him say. My blood ran cold and a cold sweat began to form on my forehead. I was scared, very scared, I wasn’t going to deny it, but this wasn’t the time to sit and watch how they corner me little by little until they capture me. If this was the moment, I was going to give everything to get out of here. I stood up resolutely, taking a deep breath, and showed my face to my perpetrator.

"Do you want to pick up where we left off?"

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[dirty-holy-things]

Christmas Tree Farm

Part III of the Invisible String Series

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV Read on Ao3.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader

Rating: Mature, for slight references to sex and swearing.

Words: 6.6k update

Chapters: 4 / ?

Warnings: Very few. Swearing, subtle references to sex.

Author's Notes: This story is broken into two segments, with the first half being Reader and Bucky's first Christmas together, and the second half being Reader and Bucky's first Christmas spent with the Wilson's, their found family.

Summary: The winter holidays can be a challenging time for many, and you and Bucky were no stranger to lonely Christmases. But love has a curious, insistent way of melting away the ice that locks away and protects our hearts; and as time passes, both you and Bucky finally allow yourselves a little bit of that holiday cheer.

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The city lights somehow shone even brighter, thanks to the addition of copious (or one could say, excessive) amounts of Christmas lights that likely threatened to upend the entire city’s power grid. Every storefront was decked out with tinsel and trees, each mannequin was dressed in their holiday best, and you couldn’t take two steps without being greeted by a vibrant advertisement for “This season’s must-buy holiday gifts!” While you certainly weren’t a Grinch by any means, you also hadn’t had much of a reason to celebrate the holiday through the past few years; that was, until you found yourself a 106 year old, semi-stable boyfriend with a secret love for Christmas that was comparable to that of an eight year old on a sugar high.

The city lights somehow shone even brighter, thanks to the addition of copious (or one could say, excessive) amounts of Christmas lights that likely threatened to upend the entire city’s power grid. Every storefront was decked out with tinsel and trees, each mannequin was dressed in their holiday best, and you couldn’t take two steps without being greeted by a vibrant advertisement for “This season’s must-buy holiday gifts!” While you certainly weren’t a Grinch by any means, you also hadn’t had much of a reason to celebrate the holiday through the past few years; that was, until you found yourself a 106 year old, semi-stable boyfriend with a secret love for Christmas that was comparable to that of an eight year old on a sugar high.

Bucky Barnes was an intimidating figure to those who saw him in the streets, but after nearly a year of dating, you had thoroughly cracked that hard exterior to see the gentle and romantic man who had been locked away and frozen for so long. People on the streets saw a powerful man with a gleaming metal arm; you saw a man who could pick you up with ease, throwing you over his shoulder before pinning you down and tickling you. Shoppers in the grocery store saw a brooding and intimidating figure; you saw him fall asleep on the couch, his frame protectively curled around his cat Alpine. You had once been like all those strangers, only seeing that which was on the surface, but you had come to know and love him as a whole person.

And as such, it did not come as that much of a shock when, shortly after Thanksgiving dinner, Bucky’s requited love for Christmas broke through for the first time. “Hey, doll,” he started, an inquisitive tone in his voice. “Where’s your Christmas music? Been goin’ through your records but I can’t seem’ta find any.”

“Don’t have any,” you called out from the bedroom, folding the last of his laundry that had taken up permanent residence in your top right dresser drawer. You strolled into the living room to see him still flicking determinedly through your collection, hoping against hope to find something that would put the apartment into the holiday spirit. “Buck, I’m pretty sure I don’t have any Christmas records — but I can play some music from my phone, if you want me to.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweets.”

He sank into the plush fabric of your sofa, sighing defeatedly. You laughed at his exaggerated response, before moving to sit next to him, draping your legs across his and nestling into his arms. You pulled your phone out of the pocket of your leggings, searching for a Christmas playlist, before you were distracted by Bucky’s lingering, pensive look. “What’s on your mind, Bucky?”

He sighed, metal hand tracing cool circles into your exposed skin. “It’s nothing, it’s silly.”

You frowned, not thrilled with his sudden withdrawal. “Clearly it’s not nothing. C’mon, Buck, you can talk to me.”

“I haven’t had a real Christmas since 1943,” he said slowly. “Hydra certainly didn’t celebrate, and after I came back from the Blip, I didn’t have anyone to share one with. I thought — I had thought, maybe, since I have you, we could do something for Christmas together. But, if you’re not really in’ta Christmas, that’s okay.”

You could tell that his casual tone was forced, you could pick up the subtle changes in volume and pitch. Your heart ached for him, as you thought about the loneliness that he had endured for decades, all of the holidays and joy and traditions and memories that he had missed out on; and while you weren’t a Christmas person by nature, by god, you were going to be one for Bucky Barnes.

***

You fully assimilated into the Christmas spirit and enthusiasm, trying to provide Bucky with every sweet, cheesy, moment of joy that he had been denied for so long. The weeks leading up to Christmas were positively filled to the brim, near-bursting, with holiday spirit and theme-appropriate music, the lyrics echoing throughout your apartment to the extent that you wondered if future tenants may one day hear ghosts of Christmas past — also known as the ghost of Bucky Past, as he sang along to every tune that crooned its way through the small, shared space. You had never seen him so indulgently and freely happy before, so you didn’t begrudge the fourth or fifth playing of the Holiday Hits records, or his subtly-insistent urging for a real Christmas tree.

It was the second week of December when you executed your ‘master plan.’

Manhattan wasn’t exactly known for its Christmas tree farms, so you had planned on making the long and laborious trek out of the city to fetch your own real tree. Bucky was more than happy to oblige, with the promise that he could fell his own Christmas tree; you had no doubt that your sweet, sensitive, and powerful super-soldier could fell whatever tree stood before him. But aside from your confidence in his physical abilities, you wanted to give him this Christmas moment, this Christmas memory — you wanted to give him the opportunity to bring his tree back to your shared space, and to create these Christmas memories with him. You wanted to break his pattern of ignored or heartbroken Christmases, and after he had confessed his love for the holiday that Thanksgiving night, you had been thinking about all of the ways you could make this year special for him.

Bucky had been more than thrilled by your suggestion to drive out of the city for an evening, particularly for a Christmas tree, and the two of you sank into the slow, gentle peace that steadily grew as the car carried you further and further away from the bustling city. You had picked a destination that was quite far from the city center, having seen the positive reviews online and the promise of free hot chocolate; and to be honest, you thought that the brief break from city life could do the two of you some good.

He had picked you up from your apartment, after acquiring this evening’s rental car; and his time spent battling lazy rental car representatives and New York traffic had given you the perfect amount of time to enact your vision for the apartment before his call rang through, informing you that he was here and waiting by the front door. Your drive out of the city had been filled with more and more Christmas music, cups of coffee, and a stash of chocolate chip cookies that you had decided would be appropriate fuel for the evening ahead. Bucky had eaten ten out of the twelve you brought.

The Christmas tree farm was illuminated with countless twinkling globe lights, a soft golden glow radiating around you and bouncing off of the freshly-fallen snow that crunched underneath your boots. Bucky grinned from ear to ear, in an easy way that you had never seen before, and you felt a rush of confidence and surety about your somewhat-secret plan.

Upon your arrival at the Christmas tree farm, Bucky had quickly picked out the prettiest tree in the entire lot; the branches were tightly packed and well-filled with needles that smelled of pine and childhood memories. The attendant who had handed him the axe to fell the tree watched in shock and awe as Bucky cleaved through the tree trunk with two strong strokes; you laughed quietly into your hot chocolate, bemused by your boyfriend’s blatant display of strength. Bucky strapped the tree to the top of the rental car with impressive speed, and it was not long afterwords that you were hurtling back into the city, towards the apartment that the two of you now called home.

Forcing the tall tree into the slim elevator was a challenge, one that Bucky took in stride; and after multiple curse words and sweaty exclamations of frustration, it finally fit to the point in which Bucky could abandon the advanced geometry he had been working at. The ride upwards was humorously tense, as Bucky observed you being pinned in by the tree, and you nervously awaited the arrival that you had planned for your sweet super-soldier.

Your front door now held a large wreath, bedecked with poinsettias and glimmering gold tinsel; the sight caught Bucky off-guard, as he recognized that this was a new addition. “I like the wreath, sweets,” he grinned, moving to shift the tree out of the cramped elevator and free you from its heavy, pine-scented branches.

“Thought some Christmas decorations were in order,” you laughed lightly, finally freed from the cramped elevator; and you briefly wondered how long that fresh pine scent might linger within the small space. Bucky kept the tree upright while you nervously opened the door, suddenly anxious that maybe you had taken the Christmas enthusiasm too far.

Bucky was a man on a mission, as he determinedly hauled the tree through the hallway and into the living room; you had previously cleared a corner for the tree, right next to your patio door, hoping that the ambient light from the city would help to illuminate the tree that would now fill the recently-vacated space. You watched him corner the tree into the wall, ensuring it was supported appropriately, before he turned to survey the apartment that was surrounding him.

You might’ve gone a bit overboard with the Christmas decorations, but you would’ve thrown yourself overboard ten times more to see that smile spreading across Bucky’s face.

The entrance to the apartment now displayed a vibrant poinsettia wreath, and a welcome mat that said ‘happy holidays,’ a sentiment ensconced by the image of ivy and red berries. The tea towels in the kitchen were red and green, boasting cheeky jokes about holiday cheer, and the glassware had been replaced with wine glasses and rocks glasses of emerald green crystal. The kitchen table was fully dressed for Christmas, with gold and green accents at every turn, highlighted with poinsettia blossoms. Your plush ivory couch was now draped with multiple blankets: one chunky knit, one soft and fuzzy, and a wool blanket with a plaid blend of emerald green, dark navy, blood-red, and gold. All of the picture frames and artwork on the wall had been wrapped over to look like Christmas presents, the fireplace was bedecked with mistletoe and holly, and even the bathroom hand soaps had been swapped out for holiday scents.

“Sweets — what’s, what’s all this?” Bucky asked breathlessly, surveying the unexpected sight before him.

“It’s our first Christmas,” you responded, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved to wrap your arms around his waist, savoring the combined scent of pine and that which was distinctly Bucky. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes — and I want to make every kind of Christmas memory with you. I want us to decorate our tree together, I want us to sneakily wrap up presents for each other, I want us to wear silly matching pajamas, I want us to leave the decorations up for way too long just because they bring us back to this perfect moment.”

Bucky’s strong and irresistible hands guided your body towards the couch, your bodies collapsing softly into the cushions as his plush and chapped lips pressed into the soft skin of your neck, biting gently at your racing pulse. You could feel the excitement and joy radiating from Bucky, comparable to the blazing heat of the sun, or a fire, or any other brightly-burning thing, and you knew that your decision to go all-in for Christmas had been the right one. Grinning to yourself, you thought about the extensive, and… myriad applicability of mistletoe you had acquired, and how you might work this into a Christmas miracle of your own.

“I love you, doll,” Bucky exhaled against your flushed skin. “I’ve never felt so fuck’n lucky, to have someone like you lovin’ me.”

You allowed yourself a moment to sink into the weight of his words, allowed yourself to feel appreciated, valued, desired, wanted. “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” you whispered, your hands tracing gently across the sharp and chiseled planes of his face. “Loving you is as easy as breathing… even when you steal all of the covers, or insist on rewatching Lord of the Rings for the fortieth time.”

Bucky laughed, a deep chuckle echoing from his chest as he pulled you closer against his thickly-muscled body. “Looks like quite a lot of mistletoe here, doll,” he grinned, pressing a casual kiss against your forehead as he surveyed the state of the apartment.

“Oh, yeah, that was intentional,” you quipped, giggling as you leaned in for a kiss; only to have Bucky pull away, a devilish and almost dark grin on his face.

“Y’sure you’re ready for that?” He asked, his voice holding a shred of a threat and the weight of a promise.

“Bring it on, Barnes.”

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

Christmas had grown to become a full-fledged, extravagant, blowout event with each year that passed. The holiday season started earlier and earlier, as you both plotted and planned for how to one-up the other with some sort of holiday surprise or thoughtful gift; and you eventually grew to ignore the odd looks of your neighbors as the poinsettia wreath was now regularly hung before Thanksgiving dinner was done cooking.

This year, however, was going to be different. After a handful of long-weekend trips down to Louisiana to visit Sam, Sarah, and their family, you and Bucky had decided to take an extended vacation - two weeks, to be exact. The two of you would be sharing both Christmas and New Years with the Wilson family, and you couldn’t possibly be more thrilled — or anxious.

Over the past few years, Bucky and Sam had settled into a brotherly sort of friendship, full of barbed comments, silent hugs, and quiet words of encouragement and advice; and after you met Sarah on your first Memorial Day trip to the small town, the two of you had taken to one another like lifelong best friends, sharing a love for merlot and a sense of worry for the two men who were dead-set on saving the world.

So it came as little surprise when the Wilsons invited the two of you for an extended stay; and you had eagerly agreed to the idea of both a vacation, and a holiday spent with your found family. Bucky had pretended to be resistant for a moment, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to share his time with you,’ but had caved easily when you pressed on the matter. He was likely just as eager to have a family Christmas as you were — but Sam certainly couldn’t know that.

You had spent nearly two months leading up to your trip relentlessly questioning Sarah and Sam about gift ideas, feeling an immense pressure to get things right. You struggled to keep up with the ever-evolving interests of AJ and Cass, and you felt the need to find something perfectly sweet and thoughtful for Sam and Sarah, as they had been so kind as to invite you and Bucky into their home for the holiday season. Bucky was able to sense your nervousness about finding the perfect gifts, and was able to remain fairly level-headed and reasonable as you perused countless stores. However, as empathetic and kind as your super-soldier may be, he was still prone to bouts of boredom or hunger.

“Look, sweets, we could get the kids gift cards and I’m sure they’d be more than happy —“ Bucky started, before you cut him off with an icy glare. You were in the fifth store of the day, and while Bucky’s patience with you had extended far past a reasonable amount, he was admittedly wearing thin.

“No gift cards,” you bit, cutting him off harshly, before rubbing your hand across his forearm gently in apology. “I know Sarah said they didn’t really need any more gaming stuff, but they’ve got a pretty good deal for the new Xbox here…”

Bucky chuckled lightly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss on the temple, forgiving your earlier tension. “With the way you’re try’na spoil them, you’d think they were our own kids.”

You blushed, knowing he was likely right. You were prone to gift-giving and over-indulging the wants and whims of those you loved; Bucky knew that firsthand, and was fair in assuming this would extend to all you loved — whether they were currently in existence or not. “Just imagine if we ever do have kids, Barnes,” you said lightly, hoping the barely-concealed eagerness in your voice didn’t betray you. “Honestly, you’ll be even more of a sucker than me.”

“Me? No, not at all,” he huffed, arms crossing over his broad chest.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from within, unable to picture a situation in which Bucky would be anything other than a marshmallow around children, particularly his own. “Between the two of us, you’re the one who will be a softie. Mark my words, Barnes, you’re gonna be wrapped around a tiny little finger one of these days.”

He chuckled softly, eyes flitting lightly across your body. “Y’call me Barnes an awful lot, sweets.”

You nodded, shoulders raising as if to say, so what?

“Makes me think you might like the name — y’maybe might even want it for yourself,” Bucky grinned, a simultaneously mischievous but sincere glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging your shoulder into his chest. You returned your focus to the sale tags in the store, trying desperately — and futilely — to quell the reflexive, undeniable excitement that came with the idea of a life with Bucky.

Marriage, a home, babies, the whole nine yards — but you were in Target, you were getting way too ahead of yourself. That was a thought for another day, another time.

***

Your arrival at Sam and Sarah’s home had been just as warm and welcoming as you expected, with Sarah ushering you and Bucky upstairs to the spare bedroom that had basically become yours after the extensive number of vacations and visits. You and Bucky both slept well that night, as the long drive had worn you down, and for the first time in several months — if not over a year — you were up the next morning before Bucky Barnes.

It was Christmas Eve, and the excitement of this day was not lost on you; rolling away from Bucky’s solid grasp was a challenge, but you managed to do so without disturbing the sleeping brunette who had been wrapped around you like a weighted blanket. You laughed quietly to yourself as he sleepily grabbed for your pillow, pulling it inwards to cradle it between his arms.

You stealthily snuck out of the room, wanting Bucky to get whatever measure of rest possible, and made yourself decent before heading downstairs to find Sarah in the kitchen. She was dressed and ready for the day, and you slumped into a kitchen chair with a yawn.

“Coffee’s ready, I’d suggest y’get it before Sam and Buck are up.” Sarah joked with a sleepy smile. So far, only the two of you were up, and you gratefully accepted her recommendation for a cup of coffee, appreciating the warmth and rush of caffeine that it offered.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You asked, as the two of you sat down at the kitchen table together.

Sarah smiled into her cup of coffee, taking a long sip before responding. “I’ll probably have’ya give me a hand with the pancakes, you’re a good judge for when to flip them,” she commented, eyes wandering to the bay window that offered an exceptional view of the sunrise. “You can also help me by giving me a heads up about the boys’ Christmas presents.”

You instinctively felt the need to say no, to preserve the integrity of the surprise and excitement of Christmas morning, but you realized that telling Sarah wouldn’t spoil the surprise for the boys. You excitedly discussed the details of the gifts, both for the kids, and for Sam and Bucky, and despite the clock indicating an obscenely early time of 7:48AM, you still felt the Christmas spirit radiating in the cozy kitchen space.

You and Sarah worked together to prepare a full breakfast, consuming cup after cup of coffee until you heard the unmistakable sound of Bucky stepping heavily down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Stepping away from the pancakes for a moment, you quickly started to brew another pot of coffee; and as you returned to your station by the stovetop, you giggled as you felt Bucky’s arms wrap securely around your midsection.

“Well this is a Christmas miracle,” Bucky whispered into the soft skin of your neck. “You’re up and outta bed before me.”

You laughed, turning to faced him as he continued to hold your body against his. “We’re not even to Christmas yet, Barnes — who know what kinda surprises might be in store for you.”

Bucky hummed suggestively, his teeth barely grazing your skin as you shivered against him. Your body instinctively molded to his, and you were in the process of turning around for a kiss when you heard, “Ah, ah, ah!”

You pulled away from Bucky with a laugh, seeing Sarah standing by the sink, hands planted firmly on her waist as she stared the two of you down with the kind of glare that only mothers could possess. “Not in my kitchen! Save that shit for Brooklyn.”

There was an undeniable heat in your cheeks, and you could see the pink tinge that Bucky’s face took on as Sarah called the two of you out. He still kept his hands on you, but with less suggestive placement. “M’sorry, Sarah, I just couldn’t help myself.”

She rolled her eyes before tossing him the coffee mug she had just finished drying; Bucky, of course, caught it despite the lack of warning. “Well, help yourself to some coffee and breakfast - I suggest you get started before the boys are up, it’ll be a frenzy before too long.”

Bucky laughed and grabbed your mostly-empty coffee mug as he strode across the kitchen; he was filling the second cup as a thunderous sound echoed through the house, as Cass, AJ, and Sam quickly filled the remaining space in the kitchen. The boys were startlingly hyper despite having just woken up - you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up that exuberantly - and Sam yawned while making a beeline for the coffee pot that Bucky held in his metal grasp. The two men exchanged the coffee pot silently, but peacefully; and you and Sarah stepped back from the kitchen to rest on the couch, to enjoy the remainder of the morning and watch the feeding frenzy that was comparable to piranhas descending on the sun-streaked Louisiana kitchen.

***

The remainder of Christmas Eve had gone smoothly and happily; AJ and Cass fell asleep close to 11PM, about halfway through The Grinch, and Bucky and Sam had carried them to bed despite weak protestations that they wanted to stay up to catch Santa. As soon as Sam and Bucky returned to give the all-clear, indicating the boys were soundly asleep, you and Sarah set to work on bringing out all of the gifts that had been carefully concealed.

You were stacking presents meticulously when you saw Bucky taking a handful of the Christmas cookies that had been left out for Santa; Sam had noticed as well, and he frowned. “Hey, man, I don’t see you in a red suit with a white beard,” Sam whispered loudly.

“Don’t see you in one either,” Bucky responded around a mouthful of a poorly-iced sugar cookie. The five of you had spent the afternoon baking and icing cookies for Santa, the neighbors, and the mailman; and while it was adorable and endearing, there was a distinct lack of artistic talent for cookie decorating.

“Bucky, share the cookies,” You laughed, nudging him to hand over the plate that he had taken hostage. Bucky grumbled, but you could see the way the corner of his lip quirked up; he was just as amused and happy in this scene as you were. The remainder of the cookies were shared, Sarah finished stuffing the stockings, and you placed the last present under the tree; looking at the last gift, you saw your swooping handwriting on the tag: To Bucky, with love.

“Is that everything?” Sarah asked, an exhausted but content look upon her face. “Last call for gifts, before Santa takes off for the night.”

Bucky coughed, giving Sam a side-eyed look that didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Should be everything,” Bucky responded cooly, but you could see the subtle flexing and whirring in the prosthetic arm that indicated a sort of nervousness within him. It was Christmas Eve, what could he be stressing about? Unless a gift had gotten lost in-between airports; but you had accounted for everything, you were sure of it. Shaking off the feeling as a side effect of exhaustion, you smiled when Bucky extended a hand to help you off the floor. “Ready to say g’night, doll?”

You nodded, and the both of you said quiet goodnights to Sam and Sarah before heading to bed for the evening. Tucking yourselves into the warm, soft bed, you saw the clock blink at 12:08AM. “Merry Christmas Bucky,” you whispered softly, planting a gentle kiss against his forehead, the soft glow of the moon illuminating the few silver hairs that had slowly appeared along his hairline.

“Merry Christmas, doll,” he mumbled happily, from the warm space between sleep and waking, the space where anything good could feel true, the space where Santa might be real and the world might be kind.

***

You had forgotten how early kids tend to wake up on Christmas morning. A silent apology to your parents passed through your groggy mind as you worked to drag yourself out of bed, having been roused by the inescapable sound of fists banging on the closed door and children’s muffled screams of, “Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Bucky wore his usual early-morning scowl; one that would’ve sent fear coursing through any rational person, but it was a look you knew and loved. He pressed the soft, downy pillow over his head, trying to muffle out AJ & Cass’s insistent excitement. “Too… early…”

You laughed hoarsely, your voice not fully awake just yet. “You try telling them that, see how far it gets you,” you suggested, as you grabbed for your glasses and the pair of pajama pants that you kept handy for decency’s sake. Bucky grumbled again, and glancing at the clock, you realized you couldn’t blame him. It hadn’t yet cracked 6AM, and while Bucky was the early riser out of the two of you, this was a solid hour before his internal clock would typically wake him up. “C’mon, Buck, up and at ‘em. It’s Christmas morning, there’s presents and coffee waiting.”

The two of you finally emerged from the door, disheveled and sleep-deprived, only to be greeted by the loud cheers of AJ and Cass, who informed you that everyone else was already up.

***

The den quickly devolved into a chaotic mess of torn wrapping paper, slackened bows, crumpled tissue paper, and more toys and electronics than the room should’ve rightly been able to hold. The adults sat back and watched as AJ and Cass tore through every present, shouting and jumping and screaming in excitement with each gift that was voraciously revealed. You had shrugged your shoulders in a subtle I’m sorry to Sarah, as the kids triumphantly lifted the new Xbox above their heads. She didn’t seem to mind too much, however, after watching AJ and Cass tackle Uncle Bucky to the ground with promises and threats of ‘kicking his old butt at Mario Kart.’

As the glitter and tinsel settled throughout the love-filled room, AJ and Cass proceeded to withdraw from the early-morning celebrations to play with their new assortment of toys, games, and electronics. You had finished your second cup of coffee and had sent Bucky to retrieve your third, while you and Sam plucked the remaining gifts from underneath the tree, to be distributed amongst the adults.

You passed Sarah a thick envelope that was tied with a silver ribbon, and watched as she pulled forth a stack of papers of various sizes — airplane tickets, hotel check-in details, Broadway tickets — and happy tears flooded her cheeks as she hugged both you and Bucky tightly, thanking you for the fully-planned vacation. “Oh, and it’s not written anywhere officially, but we’re also volunteering to babysit,” you added, and laughed as Sarah grinned and clenched her fist in excitement.

“We are?” Bucky asked, pretending to be surprised. You elbowed him gently, and he corrected himself. “Yes, of course we are.”

The gift-giving continued, with lots of laughter and happy tears. Sam and Sarah had gifted you the slate-blue Le Creuset you had been eyeing wistfully for years, and Bucky received a set of tickets to a symphony performance and dance night, featuring hits from the 1940s. “Might have’ta bust out the old uniform for this one, doll,” he said with a sly grin. “Used to look real nice in those slacks, y’outght’a have the chance to appreciate the view.”

“Oh, I can only imagine the number of girls you pulled in that uniform, Barnes,” you teased. He shrugged nonchalantly as a thick arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his relaxed body. “Hey, ease up — you’re gonna make me spill my coffee!”

Bucky planted a solid kiss against your forehead as he drew you in closer, albeit with more consideration for the scalding-hot beverage in your hand this time. “That’s ancient history, sweetheart. No need to worry about Dolores at the nursing home stealing me from you.”

“Y’sure about that, Buck? I’ve heard stories about you and a redhead named Dolores…” Sam interjected, a playfully antagonistic hint to his voice. Bucky retaliated by throwing a pillow at Sam’s head, with the kind of ferocity that could only come from a super-soldier. “Kidding, kidding,” Sam laughed, as the pillow hit him squarely in the shoulder.

Both you and Bucky laughed, and he plucked the cup of steaming coffee from your hands, taking a sip before commenting further. “Only one girl I ever truly loved, sweetheart, and she’s right here with me,” he said softly, his voice rough and gravelly, but full of sincerity.

You knew that Bucky loved you, and you knew that you loved him. Little else in the world seemed to matter past those two facts, but you also understood that your shared love existed in a complex and challenging world. A world that you struggled to find a place in, a world that had all too many places for Bucky to fill; the freedom of narrative had been stolen from both of you, but as you retrieved your Christmas gift for Bucky, you hoped you had found a way to give a piece of that narrative back to him.

You handed him a thin, flat box; meticulously and nervously wrapped, the tag unmistakeable; To Bucky, with love.

You watched him open it excitedly, and he pulled out two photos. The first photo was from the original Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian, the one that had stood for several years now. The second photo was one that you had taken yourself, of the recently-updated exhibit; specifically, the segment of the exhibit that documented Bucky’s history. You watched his facial expressions closely as he examined the differences, and you saw his jaw twitch and throat tighten as he focused more closely upon the second, most recent image.

“W-what’s this, doll?” He asked, his voice shaking.

You placed a hand gently over his, the one that held the image of the updated exhibit. “This,” you spoke softly, pointing at the inscription, “This is your legacy, Bucky Barnes. The true one. The one that matters, the one that countless people will read every single day. This is the story that everyone will know.”

Looking at the photograph grasped tightly within Bucky’s human hand, you read aloud the new inscription.

“Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front.

Captured by HYDRA troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation, torture, and experimentation; but his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood best friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, the Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed HYDRA bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.”

Bucky nodded, commenting quietly. “I’ve seen this part, at the Smithsonian.”

“Yes, that was the original; the one you would’ve seen. They also noted your date of death — but as you well know, there’s more to the story,” you added gently, drawing your finger across the image to direct Bucky’s attention to the new addition.

“Barnes was tragically captured by HYDRA operatives after what was perceived to be a deadly fall. Captain America and the Howling Commandos mourned their loss of their brother and companion, with the unit fully dissolving after the loss of Captain America.

Barnes was kept as a HYDRA prisoner of war for decades, before being freed through the work of his childhood best friend. Recruited by Rogers to fight against the Titan known as Thanos, Barnes fought valiantly alongside the Avengers and helped restore the world to its rightful state.

Barnes is recognized as one of the great heroes of our time, having successfully overcome the might of both HYDRA and Thanos. As a nation, and as a global community, we now look to Barnes as an example: an example of what is good, what is right, what is resilient, what is brave and unbreakable.”

Your hands were shaking as you finished reading the new inscription, the new addition to the exhibit; and while your hands were shaking, all of Bucky was shaking. You reached an unsteady hand out towards him, letting it settle onto his shallowly breathing chest. “This is how the world will remember you, Bucky. Not as the Winter Soldier, but as a hero, as James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier was never you — and nobody will make that mistake again.”

Bucky huffed, exhaling strongly, and you could see that he was fighting off the tears that were threatening to spill from his ocean-blue eyes; you reached to hold his hand, squeezing it tightly as you smiled up at him. His bottom lip trembled slightly as his free hand came up to stroke your face; you leaned into the cool feeling of the vibranium against your warm cheek and kissed the corner of his hand that lingered against you.

“How’d you manage to pull this off, doll?” Bucky asked, voice shaking.

You shrugged and smiled playfully. “I think you’re forgetting that I work for the Smithsonian Institute, Buck. I was able to pull a few strings, call in a few favors — and anyways, museums are pretty heavily invested in having the correct information.”

Bucky laughed hoarsely, the tears receding before they had the opportunity to fall. Sam and Sarah had watched on quietly, both of them feeling grateful for the acceptance and love that you and Bucky had found with one another. “Y’know, Buck, I was thinking that your gift was pretty impressive, but after this… I dunno, man. She might have you beat.”

You looked back and forth between the two men; clearly, secrets had been exchanged, and you had been left out of it. Bucky winced as he leaned over to retrieve your gift, agreeing with Sam. “Yeah, shit, I don’t know how I can follow that. Rewriting history? Jesus, you didn’t even give me a chance.”

Bucky placed a long, narrow box in your hands, and despite his previous comment, he still smiled excitedly as you picked at the red, snowflake-covered wrapping paper. “Whatever it is, Buck, I know I’m gonna love it.”

The lid to the box opened with ease, and the contents both shocked and confused you for a moment. Your fingers nimbly grasped the silver dog tags that rested within the box, the metal chain clinking against itself as you looked more closely.

JAMES B BARNES

32557030 T42 2B

R. BARNES

3092 STOCKTON RD

SHELBYVILLE IN

The tags had been unmistakeable, undeniably familiar, from the moment you laid eyes on them. Holding the tags tightly within your hand, you turned to Bucky with questions in your eyes, and on your lips, but he beat you to it.

“Yes, these were mine. But they’re yours now.”

You stuttered, still shocked by the gesture. “B-But Bucky, aren’t you supposed to keep these on you? Isn’t it like some sort of rule? In case — oh, god, in case anything ever happened —“

Bucky shushed you as you became increasingly worried by the thought of something happening to him, the thought of him disappearing without anything remaining to identify him as the man that you loved. “Shh, doll. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, and that’s exactly why I’m givin’ these to you. I promise, I’m never gonna leave you. I’ll never be far enough away from you to need these ever again.”

While Bucky may not have cried, you certainly did, unable to fight off the swell of emotions that hit you like a tidal wave — but a tidal wave of all good things. The weight of his words ad his gesture was overwhelming; he was handing you a piece of himself, entrusting it to you, and promising that you’d never again have to face a world without him in it. You thought about these same dog tags, how they had rested against his chest for decades, and now having this piece of him so close to your heart threatened to entirely overwhelm you.

“I love you, Bucky, god, I don’t even know what else to say right now, I love you more than anything —“ Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, and you breath was a staccato rhythm as your gaze flitted between the dog tags and the man they belonged to.

Bucky grinned, and you could see the threat of tears had returned. “Just promise me you’ll wear ‘em — and that you won’t lose ‘em.”

You nodded and smiled sweetly at him, before handing him the dog tags so he could fasten them around your neck. His hands cupped your chin and brought you in for a gentle kiss, despite the protests of Sam and Sarah; but they sounded worlds away, because your whole world was right here, holding you, and would never let you go.

***

Taglist: @bdavishiddlesbatch @aleynaandrews @who-is-a-heretic-now

[ficcrimes]

junctures

Fandom: Helluva Boss Characters: Blitzo, Stolas; mentions of Stella, Octavia, Moxxie, Millie and Loona Ship: Stolas/Blitzo A/N: this is my piece for the Stolitz zine, Seasons, over on twitter! My bit’s finally been released, so I can publish this here now!  Summary: To everything, there is a season. 

——————————————————————————

i. summer

It was supposed to be a one night stand, and nothing more than that.

When presented with the opportunity to get his hands on that one particular grimoire, Blitzo didn’t think twice about worming his way into the Geotian Prince’s bed. What was one hot night with an ancient, entitled demon? Of course, he hadn’t stopped to question just why it had all happened the way it had, either. Whatever made Stolas not only agree to but pursue this whole lewd affair was really none of Blitzo’s business. Maybe he had a thing for imps, or some sort of weird, classist fetish. It really didn’t matter. At a glance, and that was all Blitzo had allowed himself to take when it all started, it seemed simple enough.

But it didn’t quite turn out that way, did it?

What started as something that had been meant to be short and sweet and fleeting turned into much more than Blitzo had bargained for. It’s nothing he can’t handle, of course, but Stolas calls on him frequently and comes on incredibly strong. It’s a little jarring, to say the least, but Blitzo can’t bring himself to outright turn the advances away.

He needs the book, after all. And, all things considered, this isn’t the worst possible thing he could have been doing to keep it. This is what he tells himself, anyway.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, for all the fuss he puts up whenever Stolas calls, at least Stolas makes him feel… something. Wanted. Needed. Even if it’s only physically. Even if it’s only temporary.

But then Stolas makes the once-a-month arrangement with him, and an already hazy situation becomes a little hotter and a little heavier. Their meetings are no longer quick and to the point. Suddenly Stolas wants to have fun with it; he incorporates games and costumes and silly little things into the affair that Blitzo’s not above or below doing. He’s a performer, after all - and at least Stolas seems to be enjoying the act.

He spends the night and wakes up in Stolas’ bed more times than he’d like to admit. Most of the time, he’ll leave before Stolas wakes up. But there are some days when he wakes up to Stolas propped up and leaning over him, all four of his red eyes heavy-lidded and bleary with something Blitzo pretends isn’t there.

He also pretends the rush of heat that surges up his spine isn’t there, and that it doesn’t count for anything.

As sleazy as it all is, it’s a good business deal and he wants to milk it for all it’s worth while it lasts - because he’s sure that it won’t. Nothing that burns this hot for too long is meant to last.

ii. fall

There is something so incredibly and unconventionally charming about the little imp.

It’s not every day someone like Stolas came across someone like Blitzo, and he’d been intrigued almost immediately by him. He was crass and rude and didn’t seem to think twice before speaking whatever happened to be on his mind in the moment, and Stolas found himself liking that more than he should have.

So, when Blitzo made his interest in the grimoire known, and it was evident all he had to offer in exchange for it was his own body, Stolas didn’t put up much of a fight or fuss. He knew he shouldn’t have been traipsing about behind Stella’s back and closed doors, but the supposed-one-night-stand promised to be the most exciting thing he’d experienced in a long, long while.

That first night with Blitzo had been unlike anything Stolas had ever had before, with his wife or otherwise. The sheer amount of skill the little creature had was surprising, and the way Stolas’ body had ached for him after he’d gone spoke in volumes.

Maybe it’s not in his best interest, or even in good taste, to start calling on Blitzo whenever he feels himself craving what only the imp can give him. And maybe he should learn how to properly manage and articulate the desperate desires he feels, instead of going off on long, unfiltered, filthy rants.

But Blitzo never explicitly tells him to stop, and so he doesn’t.

There’s a part of Stolas that understands Blitzo seems to merely put up with these antics so he can continue to use the book, and that’s alright. For a while, anyway. The more Stolas finds himself thinking about that, the more he can feel something creeping up on him, slow and steady. The ache he feels for Blitzo starts to change, and it’s not just his body that needs him.

He doesn’t really notice at first, continues to mistake the desperate need for the imp’s attention as something carnal and older than even himself. How silly to think his entire foundation could be shaken after so, so long, and by such a small and silly creature. And yet, eventually he catches himself drawing silly little caricatures on important papers of the two of them. Or he finds himself staring longingly at his phone when he can’t seem to get a hold of Blitzo.

By the time he’s suggesting they make their meetings a little more frequent and planned, Stolas realizes he’s in over his head. Or, perhaps he’s just head over heels. There’s really no difference here.

The whole situation is a little messier and more complicated than he would have liked it to be, but Stolas tells himself it will be worth it in the end. Until then, though, even if it’s only once a month, he feels like his walls can come down and he can be himself while Blitzo shares his bed.

He doesn’t mind when he wakes up to find the imp’s already left him. He understands. But it’s when he wakes up to find Blitzo still in bed beside him that makes his heart swell with something unspeakable.

He thinks, if things were just a little different, he could have this feeling always.

But Blitzo always leaves, and Stolas is always left with the weight of this feeling that’s too big for either of them.

iii. winter

Blitzo is right in thinking that things couldn’t stay so simple forever.

An already complicated situation gets that much worse when things like feelings and wives and daughters get caught up in the mix.

When Stolas calls him up out of the blue one day and says, very quietly, very seriously, that they “need to talk,” Blitzo almost wishes it had been one of his usual calls. Something cold and dreadful shoots up his spine by the time the call ends, and he’s already preparing himself for the worst. His mind is already racing, torn between coming up with some other lucrative back up plan and trying to persuade Stolas not to do this.

However he chooses to define ‘this’ in the moment, he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

Stolas is quiet as Blitzo lets himself into his office space, book tucked under one arm. There’s no coy smile tugging at his beak.

Blitzo knows, and so he drops the book onto the desk that separates them. “I figured it’d only be a matter of time before you called this shit off,” he says through a sneer.

Stolas winces, and draws the book just a little closer to himself, fingering the crescent moon. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact.

“It’s not - You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs quietly.

“Oh, you’d think so, huh?” Blitzo replies, because he understands more than Stolas thinks. Stolas doesn’t know anything he doesn’t want him to know - and maybe this is happening because of that. Maybe if he’d been just a little less guarded and a little more obvious, things could have been different.

However… None of that would have changed the fact Stolas was a Prince, with a wife and child. And Blitzo understands that, too.

“No, no. I get it,” Blitzo starts, and waves Stolas off with one hand. “You got your weird royal bird shit to do, and fucking an imp on the side’s getting in the way.”

Stolas wants to say something else, Blitzo can see it in his eyes when all four finally meet his, but what actually comes out of his mouth is a quiet, “...that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit looking like some sort of kicked hellpup. It’s not like you’re losing anything by taking the book back.” Blitzo almost regrets those words the moment they leave his mouth, but decides maybe they’re for the best. If Stolas is angry instead of just sad, it will make this easier.

But Stolas doesn’t get angry; he just looks all the more hurt. He sighs and steels himself. “I’ll see what I can do about loaning you my grimoire in the future, Blitz,” he says, “but for now, I can’t allow it.”

Hearing Stolas call him by his name instead of ‘Blitzy’ is what turns that cold trickle into a flash flood of ice. Something cold and hollow fills him, and Blitzo wishes it didn’t sting the way that it does, wishes he could feel anger instead of this.

“Sure thing, Your Highness,” Blitzo mumbles back, flipping Stolas off with one shaking hand. “If that’s all you got me penned in for today, I’ll see myself the fuck out. Thanks.”

Blitzo slams the office door on his way out, and Stolas can hear Stella screaming after him as he leaves. It’s only a small relief to hear Octavia chime in, telling her mother to leave him alone.

“At least he’s leaving,” Stolas hears her say, and he wishes she were just that little bit older so she’d understand this situation better. He had ever slept with Blitzo because he didn’t love her, but because he’d long since fallen out of love with her mother - but a royal marriage was not so easily left behind.

He sinks back in his seat and sighs heavily, pinching the bridge between his eyes. His heart no longer feels airy and light; instead it feels heavy, like it’s sinking into the pit of himself and weighing him down.

iv. spring

It’s weeks later and well into a work day when Blitzo emerges from his office. The first thing he notices is that his employees all seem to have disappeared, though he doesn’t have much time to wonder about that. His foot catches on something, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself on a nearby desk. He twists around to look at the offending object that he knows should not be there, and sees that it’s a package of some sort. Brown paper-wrapped and addressed to him, and distinctly book-shaped.

He groans inwardly and hefts it up, the weight familiar, and the scent clinging to the wrapping even more so. Not that the break had been clean, but of course Stolas would have to go and try and make things complicated.

He doesn’t know if Stolas dropped it off personally or had it specially delivered, but he understands why the others left when it got there. Had he been in their shoes, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to risk it, either.

There’s no call or warning before he shows up at Stolas’ mansion, book in tow. He doesn’t use the front door, because he knows other, quicker ways to get to Stolas personally. And, surprisingly, none of those ways have been deterred or altered. It’s almost like Stolas had hoped he wouldn’t actually stay away.

It doesn’t take him very long at all to find Stolas, in his bedroom and lounging about as though he hadn’t just tried to lay some sort of intricate trap. It says something that the Prince’s surprise is entirely feigned, and there’s a grin tugging at his beak as Blitzo kicks the bedroom door shut.

“Ooh, what a surprise~” he coos, and Blitzo rolls his eyes.

“Cut the crap,” Blitzo mutters, dropping the book heavily onto the bed.

Stolas smiles and shrugs his shoulders. The robe he’s wearing slips from one lithe shoulder, and he doesn’t bother to adjust it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. That,” he gestures to the book, “is just a gift. Circumstance aside, I’d hate to see your business fail.”

Blitzo snorts and grins in a way that shows his teeth. “Don’t you worry about I.M.P. We’re doing just fine without your borrowed little magic tricks.”

For just a moment, Stolas seems to falter, frustrated - not with Blitzo, but the situation itself.

“You really couldn’t think of any other way to get my attention, besides throwing me your scraps?” Blitzo presses on, crossing his arms over his chest, one brow raised.

“I didn’t think you’d return a call, or want to see me,” Stolas admits, and makes a vague gesture to the mansion. “And inviting you back here seemed… uncouth, at the very least.”

“Never stopped you before, did it?” But now Blitzo’s grin seems a little less antagonistic, a little more playful.

Stolas lets out an airy, half-laugh. “You’re not wrong.” He finally adjusts the shoulder of his robe, and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking about… Well, us. And I was thinking that, maybe we could… I mean, to start, we never should have - but…”

He sighs, and offers Blitzo a weak smile.

“I’ve missed you, Blitzy.”

It’s short and sweet and simple - just like this whole mess should have been from the start. But it’s not, and it never will be, because those three words and that sickeningly sweet rendition of his name coming out of that horrid bird’s mouth send that familiar warm rush right through Blitzo’s entire body.

“I see what you’re doing,” Blitzo says quickly, narrowing his eyes.

Stolas chuckles, shrugging. “I’d like to try again. Only no strings attached this time.” To make his point, he raises one hand and urges the grimoire over to himself, letting it hover between the two of them. “You’d be free to use this whenever you like, and though I would greatly appreciate your… company, there’s no need for a strict schedule.”

Blitzo eyes the book for a moment, and then shoves the magically aloft object aside. “And what about your ball and chain? You sure you wanna put up with her conniption fits?”

“You let me worry about Stella,” Stolas waves the thought aside. “A very serious discussion is long overdue, anyway.”

“And your kid?”

“Via will be okay. She’s young, but getting old enough to understand, I think.”

Blitzo looks the owl demon up and down, then shrugs a little himself. “Not the freshest start of the ages, but I’ll take it.”

Stolas smiles and breathes a sigh of obvious relief. “I’m glad,” he says quietly and moves closer. He lets one hand wander admiringly over one of Blitzo’s horns - and, for the imp’s sake, pretends he doesn’t notice the way he leans in to the touch.

“I have to wonder, though,” Stolas says after a moment, before the quiet becomes too much too soon, idly stroking the inner curvature of the horn, “how did you manage to keep I.M.P afloat without my grimoire?”

Blitzo leans away from the taller demon, and he grins again, wide and sharp. “I copied the spells out of it ages ago,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder. “Just in case this whole shebang went down the shitter.”

Stolas stares at him, a grin of his own tugging at his beak. “Oh, you clever little thing,” he muses, reaching out and taking Blitzo’s face into his hands. One thumb moves gently over where white meets red.

Blitzo has a nasty habit of speaking before he thinks, and Stolas has to wonder if he realizes what he’s admitted to. If he’d had the pages copied this whole time, either he’s a very dedicated actor and didn’t want to tip Stolas off - or, perhaps, it was all just a very convoluted excuse to keep coming back.

A blush starts to bruise the bridge of Blitzo’s nose. Stolas smiles.

“And here I thought you’d needed the book,” he says. “How silly of me.”

[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 15. Random thoughts.

Well, I just found one of my favorite volumes of this series. For all the right and wrong reasons.

There is a certain trope or term I've heard of for comedy. Where a joke or skit can be really funny but can also go a little too far with the performance to where it can be a little annoying. But there are also plenty of times where the joke/skit takes it even FURTHER than that and it circles back around to being funny again. Naofumi with Raph-chan is a little like that. His love for the little furball was cute and funny at first, then it became a little odd and maybe a little cringey, and now it's gone to such an extreme that it's circled back to funny again, with the Shield hero now commanding a legion of Raph-chans. Also, Naofumi and Ruft bonding over Raph-chan is genuinely really sweet. Between that, how much he clings to Naofumi (or Raph-chan) when he's scared, and just the liking he's taken to the kid, I think Naofumi has definitely found his son figure. Honestly their relationship feels a little more parent and child than even Naofumi and child Raphtalia's was and it took me a bit before I figured out why that was, at least for me.

Naofumi was very parental to Raphtalia and does still somewhat think of her as his daughter. However, when they first met it was also a situation where Raphtalia had to grow up very quickly, and not just physically through leveling. She was bought as a slave and didn't want to go back to the trader. She wanted to fight back against the things that took her family and village from her. She wanted to be Naofumi's sword. She was the sole reason he could gain any significant experience and level up into the Shield Hero he needed to be. The romantic feelings she gained for him were almost certainly a factor but overall, for her sake and his, staying a child, staying as someone's daughter, was not an option. What Naofumi needed wasn't a daughter but a partner. Someone he could lean on and trust.

With Ruft, there is no need for him to grow up quite yet. Yes, Naofumi took him to the village so he could get some experience with the real world and he does plan on toughening him up, but Naofumi is not dependent on Ruft like he was Raphtalia. There's no pressure for Ruft to grow up because Naofumi and everyone else will be fine regardless, so he has more freedom to be a kid. And unlike Filo and the village kids, he doesn't have the added complication of also being Naofumi's slave. Naofumi can treat him and care for him like a kid.

Side note, but is it weird that, even though I know he's related to Raphtalia, before I finally was given an image of him I kept on imagining Ruft looking like Gohan from the very beginning of Dragon Ball Z? Chinese Emperor clothes and all. It feels a little unintentionally racist of me given that Q'ten Lo is meant to resemble isolationist period Japan.

“The Bow Hero mentioned that he has a skill which allows him to scout out the surrounding area from a higher vantage point,” Raphtalia recalled. Itsuki said that? I mean, he was the Bow Hero. It wouldn’t be strange for him to have a skill that allowed him to search for distant targets. That sounded like quite a convenient skill too.

I'm glad about this little detail. I was just saying in the last volume that it felt like the other three heroes didn't seem to have any abilities that weren't directly attack-based. And then later with the hero conference we get even more added to their arsenals beyond just "attack, big attack, and bigger attack" like they'd been showing up until now. Before it felt like the other three could be a bit interchangeable in battle with Naofumi, as it's three attackers and one defender, with range being the only difference. But now, between the four of them, it's a good mix of attack, defense, support, healing, and debuffs. The Four Holy Heroes actually work as a party together.

“R-Raphtalia. Brother. I just want to go and see Master Naofumi! Move aside,” Atla stated.

“No,” Raphtalia replied.

“Never,” replied her brother.

“Raph!” barked a horde of Raphs.

I can hear the freaking echo! I'm dying!

“To be more accurate, they are filolials who act like mountain bandits, attacking wagons carrying off goods and stuff like that,” Melty continued.

...

“Hold on a moment. What the hell is going on then? And—” I finished my thought in my head. If this was the issue that Fitoria wanted help with, then . . . “You’re telling me filolials fight over wagons?”

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been told,” Melty confirmed. Uwah! So she wanted me to resolve some kind of turf war? If these were wild filolials, they weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“The loser has to give their wagon to the winner,” Melty explained. “Also, if it’s the season of love, they can only find love by defeating their opponent.” What were they, hermit crabs?

This is going exactly where I think it's going, isn't it?

[Two chapters later]

“It’s been a while, father-in-law. It’s me, I say, Motoyasu the street racer!”

F******************************************K!

I get Motoyasu is under the effect of his curse series but...it's just so hard to like this guy. It was even before Witch betrayed him and his curse activated. Especially when he uses his Temptation ability to "show Filo his love", basically trying to force her into loving him. Thank goodness it didn't work and that Raph-chan can clear away the effects it did have. Naofumi could stand to be more considerate of Raphtalia when it comes to the Raphs but Motoyasu has been straight up harassing Filo. He tried to keep her trapped in her "angel" form when rescuing her from Naofumi's "brainwashing" and probably was going to keep her that way forever if Witch didn't have her "accidentally" killed along with Melty when removing the brainwashing. I'm pretty sure she was the main person he wanted to peep on in the baths at Cal Mira. He stole her favorite wagon and transformed it into...that. And then there's the shape of...

No...

No!

I'd heard a rumor but...

NO!

I thought it was a web novel thing!

WHY DOES MOTOYASU HAVE A DILDO SPEAR?!?!

Or...god, what if it's not a dildo?!

“I’m taking your daughter. Using my Lust Envy Spear IV,” Motoyasu exclaimed. God. This was all depressing me intently.

“Filo-tan! I will stop you and take your purity!” Motoyasu thrust his spear at Filo.

“Boo!” She wasn’t interested. Then I noticed what he was pointing at. Below the waist, shall we say.

....................Kill him. Kill him. F**king kill him. I don't care about the consequences to the world. Kill him. Kill him now. Have Aura and Mare come over from Overlord and Iris come over from Konosuba. They'll all team up with Filo so that the lolis he loves so much can snap his f**king neck.

I get he's under the effects of a curse (two curses even; lust and envy) but he's almost everything he and Witch accused Naofumi of being. He's brainwashing people and an attempted rapist. All he's missing is abusing his slaves and kidnapping Melty.

...F**k. Okay, back to reality.

So Quirks exist in Itsuki's universe? Last volume I made a comparison between Motoyasu #2 and Bakugo from My Hero Academia because they fit similar tropes for me, but in terms of actual backstory and character, Itsuki is definitely the better comparison. Thought he was special in elementary school because of his powers but got slapped with a bit of reality upon entering the special school for powers. For both of them, this fed into an inferiority complex. It does also add more to Itsuki's hero complex. Bakugo's Quirk and natural talents had him overpraised from youth, leading him to fear the failure of living up to expectations of him. For Itsuki, it goes a little the other way, where his expectations for himself were high, got shattered because the powers above his level were much greater and thus nothing was expected to become of him in comparison, and so he fell into console games where he could be important and the main character for once.

None of this forgives how he treated Rishia but I'd still rather have this understanding and explanation of his character than not. He and Trash have a slightly similar problem for me, and it's not the story's fault. Itsuki's curse has left him pretty fried and emotionless, though it's slowly coming back to him. He hasn't really had a chance to redeem himself. He's working to better himself, yes, but he's also in a state where he'll do everything he's told. He had a nice, split-second apology to Rishia he managed to get out but that's about it. Similarly with Trash, he and Itsuki have sympathetic backstories but he is so lost in his hatred the Shield Hero, Siltvelt, and a few other things that he has not taken responsibility or shown remorse for any of the things that had happened because of him, including his youngest daughter nearly being killed multiple times. Before he was half-crazy and now after meeting Alta and Fohl he just seems withered away and beaten. Trash and Itsuki's situations are sympathetic but they've yet to do anything that puts me on their side beyond basic human empathy and pity.

Compare that to Ren, whom I'm glad I quite like now. He never did anything as bad as Trash or Itsuki, nor does he have as tragic a backstory as either (that's been told to us yet anyway), but he still felt remorse for the bad things he did do and has actively worked to try and make up for them or make certain they don't happen again, because he knows he screwed up. I'm not just supposed to pity him. Like with Naofumi, I'm supposed to see him rise and he does, at several points in this volume being very helpful to very heroic. And I like how he and Naofumi contrast with each other without completely butting heads like stubborn bulls, like over the bandits for justice. They're both heroes but Ren is working hard to be a real hero to make up for the lack of one he was before, while Naofumi outright sees himself as a bad person, that all his good deeds are for selfish motivations and that he's not deserving of being hailed as a hero to begin with.

Well, I think that was all I was going to talk about. Yes sir.

...

.......

.................

.....................

..............................Alta on the cover. Alta on the inner art and quote page. Most of this book being about Fohl's fear over Alta's safety. There were so many red flags you'd think the Phoenix's explosion broke the fourth wall and set fire to the pages themselves.

Yeah, this death was better than Ost's. Ost's death still worked despite her short time with Naofumi's party because there was still emotion during that time and she still is often referenced, remembered, and mourned for even in volumes well after her death, so it feels less cheap and manipulative and more like it actually meant something. With Alta though, it's not just better just because we knew her longer (though that's certainly a factor) but because of the effect on the main characters, especially Naofumi. The raw pain, the denial, the begging, the self-blame, the sheer seething anger, the emptiness. Even the way it's written when she first jumps in the way and after the attack finally ends, it feels like the aftermath of a grenade. Everything is blurred and shaky, everything is silenced except for the ringing in his ears and its not entirely clear what's going on, only that something bad just happened. Naofumi runs through every emotion you'd want from someone like him and it has an even more personal meaning than that. Alta sacrificing herself for him gave Naofumi a bit of a hard slap in the face as to what everyone he cares about would feel if he sacrificed himself for them, which he's tried doing a few time already. It was a very good send-off for Alta.

This was also both the best and worst time for Naofumi to finally be told outright that Raphtalia loves him. Looking forward to either loving or being very frustrated with where this goes. Though regardless, that final art of them just hugging and crying it out is going to hold a special place in my heart.

Trash was apparently the Seven Star Staff Hero. I’d never seen him holding the staff and honestly wondered if the original king was dead and this was just a doppelganger.

Just where was he hiding the Seven Star Staff?

After the dildo spear, please don't ask me to imagine where Trash hides his staff.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/shieldbro/comments/fndipx/read_through_light_novel_vol_15_random_thoughts/

[laughingpinecone]

Press Start letter

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

It’s a long list of character combos so the specific requests aren’t overly detailed, please draw at will from my general likes and general fandom likes in addition or as an alternative to any of those!

All requests are art or fic - for art, the stuff I like is the kind that depicts the characters doing something. I’ll always be happier with a very simple drawing of two characters walking together or sharing a cup of coffee than with an ambitious composition that looks like an Avengers poster. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s).

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships)

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, nerdy canon references, unrequested characters popping up

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay), canon retellings, consent issues

Dark Souls

I’m only familiar with the first game+DLC! It’s probably relevant to mention that I think that linking the fire is kind of a dumbass move and Gwyn is an ass, but on the other hand Kaathe has his own agenda and there’s no winning move in this world, or at least no obvious one. Feel free to deviate from anyone’s canon endings, to make things happen that’ll stave off their hollowing. I am interested in any of these people meeting and possibly striking up a friendship, and also in exploring Lordran’s temporal/dimensional fuckery, where it’s possible to meet people who have been gone for ages…

Group: Solaire of Astora & Siegmeyer of Catarina: so much fanart of Sun Bro & Onion Bro being bros, so little fic. And yet, the potential! How’d they bounce off each other, what about the fact that Siegmeyer is apparently a proper Catarina knight after all while Solaire just painted his self-made insignia and left, what would Sieg think of Solaire’s quest?

Group: Alvina the Cat & Sieglinde of Catarina: dunno, kitty. I love them both and I want everyone cool to go on adventure with each other. What’s left for Alvina now that Sif is gone, Artorias’ grave desecrated? For her part, did Sieglinde, you know, (mimics Ash Lake)?

Ghost Trick

I am very interested in various characters finding about the erased timeline, but not getting their memories back, and having to live with being told about what they did but never remembering it. Exploring the ghost lore is great. All what-ifs welcome (what if they managed an acceptable happy ending but didn’t reset the timeline, what if a different party went back to the past and kept their memories, what if Alma’s ghost stuck around…) Also open to AUs here, especially for generic fantasy or sci-fi settings or the Final Fantasy ones I prompted last Yuletide.

For the non-canon sides of Jowd/Alma/Cabanela, please no infidelity? I’d be good with either setting the fic during the game timeline or some what-if thereof when the other spouse is dead or unavailable, or simply keeping them offscreen and not mentioning them (eg Alma/Cabanela beach day, Jowd/Cabanela precinct shenanigans)

For Jowd in general, I do love my big boy and enjoy milking that size difference for all it’s worth. In gen contexts too, it’s neat. him big.

Group: Jowd & Yomiel: I’d love to read about the intimate understanding that comes from their shared memories and the horrors they’ve mutually forgiven (and a penchant for morbidity they’ve gained from such horrors probably). Cat dads things welcome.

Group: Alma/Jowd/Cabanela: maybe once Alma and Jowd have figured out he’s smitten and that they do in fact reciprocate... they tease him to death, slowly and deliberately? Is it even a Jowd romance if there’s not an exhausting amount of teasing involved, I ask?

Group: Alma/Jowd & Cabanela: Cabs’ life is wild; his best friends’ home is a safe haven...

Group: Emma & Pigeon Man: Emma’s unsuspected beta reader...

Group: Alma/Cabanela: (taps mic) legs. And fashion!

Group: Cabanela/Jowd: a recent tumblr post made a convincing argument for Cabs liking to be in charge (the argument is just pointing at Cabanela, honestly). Jowd is... agreeable, by his own admission. But is it that simple?

Kentucky Route Zero

I love the ending and I’d love to see its themes and setting explored. I’m all for exploration of any of the game’s themes and for including any staples from adjacent genres - wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I love AUs so that’s an option too. Or of course there’s Xanadu at the height of its glory, an infinite what-ifs generator. Were the requested characters part of it, what were their digital counterparts up to? A Xanadu narrative would be great! I’d also love to hear about any new spot along the Zero or the Echo river, or an expansion of some place that’s only mentioned by Will in HATATE or only gets a few paragraphs of text. Mostly, I just love all these characters so much and I’m going through the tagset’s options like a hyperactive cat. Any fragment of their lives will make me happy.

Group: Shannon Márquez & Conway & Conway's Dog: does Shannon get to see them after the ending? Even for a moment?

Group: Lula Chamberlain/Joseph Wheattree/Donald: so Lula went back to Mexico. Joseph is pensive. Did the events of the night shake up Donald, or what will it take?

Group: Junebug & Lula Chamberlain: artists! Outspoken... artists... with a complicated personality. Put them in the same room and...?

Group: Junebug & Johnny: where’s the strangest place they played in, and what did Johnny find there?

Group: Conway & Johnny & Junebug (Kentucky Route Zero): their story is about finding individuality, his is about succumbing and losing it. Would any of them pick up on this mid-Act IV? Or just... talking about limbs and stuff?

Group: Cate & Will & Shannon Márquez (Kentucky Route Zero): a few months later, Shannon finds herself on the Mucky Mammoth again...

Group: Carrington & Weaver Márquez & Shannon Márquez (Kentucky Route Zero): maybe the cousins were trying to bond or reminisce or whatever and Carrington dive-bombed into the conversation, but in the end it was an enriching experience... of sorts?

Group: Carrington & Lula Chamberlain (Kentucky Route Zero): I don’t usually look for college shenanigans but this may be the exception? Or Art Opinions?

Group: Carrington & Clara (Kentucky Route Zero): would she even... get a word in? Maybe with the right topic?

Group: Carrington & Cate & Will (Kentucky Route Zero): Mammoth life! ...what does theater have to say about mushrooms again?

Group: Shannon Marquez & Weaver Marquez (Kentucky Route Zero): at the end of it all, Weaver was waiting. After this end, they can stand side by side again...

Group: Emily & Ben & Bob (Kentucky Route Zero): so what does it mean, like, poetically, that they were temporally displaced and Act I is in their future from Act V? Is it possible they were not aware of it?

Mutazione

The island, the sense of community, newcomers joining the community, gardens and music... I love the mood of this little game. Got ideas for some part of the island we haven’t seen? What stories do they tell each other about Moon Dragon and the first days of the new life it brought? The plants encyclopaedia was great - do Yoké’s archives hide some other cool tome? Please, if Graubert is mentioned, I would much prefer a sympathetic portrayal - he’s got his issues but I felt that the game was much harder on him than anyone else.

Group: Yoké & Karoo: I love the friendship between Yoké and Nonno and filtering it through Karoo feels even cooler to me. When did the big spooky bird first visit, did Yoké know or perceive what was going on?

Group: Yoké & Claire: book club book club book club!

Group: Spike/Claire: they’re so cute! Dinner at Mori’s? Swimming together?

Group: Nonno & Spike: I love Nonno’s role in the community and Spike’s role in the community, and they’re the two people who landed there and decided to stay. Could they bond over this?

Group: Dennis & Nonno: Important Tree Health Business!

Group: Bopek & Jell-A: Jell-A is the absolute coolest and Bopek grew on me a lot. Their friendship is adorable! What could they do together? As a side note, Jell-A’s place has the tightest interior decor in the whole game. How’d that happen, and does Bopek get a flair for vintage shapes and volumes in his weaving?

Group: Mori & Nonno & Yoké: FRIENDS. Friends for a long time, through so much pain. An evening together while The Youths (tm) are at Spike’s bar?

Yoké: catch-all Yoké request because he’s my fave! Doing Yoké things, being a big nerd, caring for books and plants and stuff

Pyre

The burning found family feelings, the revolutionary passion, the tension between topside social constraints and the kind of freedom allowed by the Downside! Thoughts about finding oneself at  the end of an age, as everything crumbles down to form something new. I love all the themes, the solemnity, the heart of this game. I adore everyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to add a Nightwing or two to any prompt, please do! I also love all the Scribes and find Erisa a compelling tragic figure. Out of the other triumvirates, I’m ��love to hate them” for Manley, Brighton, Udmildhe and Deluge and would not like to see them featured in sympathetic roles. My main interest usually lies in post-canon exploration when applicable, but I’m also into various adventures during canon. Pick a location or a place outside the map and see what happens? As for the ending variables, I’d ask for a peaceful revolution and Oralech alive, but no preferences for who’s up and who’s down, pick whatever works best for any given plot bunny.

Group: Tariq & Soliam: what were Tariq and Celeste like in their earliest days? Were they made or summoned from some sort of preexisting star consciousness? They’re wildly different scenarios! I’m good with either. Does Soliam then see Tariq as a child of sorts, someone he made, or something greater than himself? Did he mean to do that, to have these two immortals around? What does Tariq learn from the First Scribe?

Group: Tariq & Dalbert Oldheart: Any excuse for Tariq to hang out with the Fates for a little while, and treasure and be treasured by dear Dalbert...

Group: Oralech & Vagabond Girl: after all is said and done, Oralech’s view of the Scribes is probably... understandably... dire. So of course I want to see him talk it out with ae!

Group: Celeste & Ignarius: look, listen, if the various triumvirates just camped out near their respective Scribe’s place during the Nightwings’ years-long absence (not the only possible explanation for how you find them all neatly lined up before the first lib rite, but an explanation nonetheless, I think. just let me have my crack), that means Iggy was Celeste’s neighbor for a long time. Neighborly hijinks please?

Group: Bertrude/Pamitha: Pam returning from her travels, again and again, and finding a home in Bertrude’s lab, finding an understanding there... Bertrude’s attitude being thorny in a way that’s just what Pam needs to allow herself to open up... also: snake kisses.

Group: Volfred Sandalwood/Oralech: waking up and remembering that the mourning that’s set deep in your roots is for someone who never died, waking up and remembering that the bitterness that consumed you had made up a betrayal that never was, finding each other through these crumbling walls... 

Molten Milithe: that’s the pov for a love letter to the Downside, right? And/or which Scribe did she bond with the most? Or the least for that matter?

Volfred Sandalwood: catch-all Volf’n’anyone request. I want to see our tree interact with any friend and foe you might fancy! Arguing for his beliefs, being a history professor through and through, finding himself in a tight spot and getting unexpected help, verbally tearing Brighton a new one if they ever cross each other’s path again...

group: Volfred Sandalwood/Tariq | The Lone Minstrel: Volfred’s zodiac sign is Cancer and Cancer is ruled by the Moon, so there’s that.    I love how they both hold the other in the highest esteem, especially on Tariq’s part since he’s the immortal Herald of the Scribes and Volfred is, all in all, a history teacher, but listen to him and you’d think the roles were inverted. I love my nonviolent canon but could anything happen to either of them that may require a rescue, and/or some good old-fashioned h/c? What’s something that could make Tariq of all people lose it? How’s life 100 years on?

Shenmue

This game cares for the little things. I’d love to see fanworks that try to out-slice-of-life canon...

Group: Qiu Hsu & Xianzi Bei: cormorant kung fu adventure! Do they hang out sometimes?

Group: Hazuki Ryo & Shenhua Ling: any moment, discussion, small adventure from their travels together! I love their bond! For all its waifufication of Shenhua, S3 really sold me on their friendship and a shared brand of dorkiness. Alternatively, sometimes I remember that they’d be 50ish in the present day - how and where do you picture them?

The Silver Case

I‘m all for the surrealism, big things being introduced and never picked up again, Rashomon’ing it up with six explanations for the same thing where no single one can be true, people dying and then popping up again like nbd...  maybe the thing I like the most is characters transcending their humanity and looming over the dystopian world like ominous avatars. Correctness’ first ending had me swooning, that kind of mood is unparalleled. I have played TSC, FSR and 25W so far and have vague memories of K7. I’m aware of the “everything’s connected” readings but that’s not my main interest in these games. For FSR-focused requests, I see Lospass as a real island but also a metaphysical  place of transformation first and foremost, where strange things happen that don’t make sense elsewhere.

Group: Toriko Kusabi & Remy Fawzil: What’s Toriko up to when she’s not chasing Chris? I think it could be fun to throw her at Remy and see the island from their point of view!

Group: Tokio Morishima & Edo Macalister: since Tokio stayed at the Flower Sun and Rain... I’m interested in peculiar happenings on Lospass that are not centered on Sumio...

Group: Tetsugorou Kusabi/Sumio Kodai: Tetsu picked one hell of a crush, huh! What’s it like in the aftermath of the games, when Sumio is Like That? How does Tetsu grapple with Parade? Is Tetsu an anchor of sorts for Correctness Sumio, who seems (at best) to be existing on a slightly different plane of existence at any given time and could disappear if you blink too hard?

Group: Tetsugorou Kusabi & Shinko Kuroyanagi: I’m joining the “let these two be foulmouthed friends” masses - who’d be more fed up with the other’s nonsense, and in which ways would they be an unstoppable team?

Group: Shinkai Tsuki & Tetsugorou Kusabi: Both of them end their stories in the shadows one way or another, and defending their protégé may have had a hand in their misfortune one way or another. What kind of understanding could they reach? What IS Tsuki up to anyway?

Group: Christina & Catherine: anthro Catherine, as per the Placebo bonus chapter Yami, was unexpectedly charming. What was Chris before reaching Lospass, and did he also have a chat with her on the plane or on the island?

[bunnymaknaereacts]

Monsta X’s Reaction to Your Insecurities - Hyungwon (혀원) - “Nobody would miss me anyway…” - PART 2

WARNING -This might be very triggering to you if you have/had a mental illness or suffer from anxiety/depression or have attempted or know someone who has attempted/committed suicide. Please read with caution.

It was your third night in the hospital and you still hadn’t woken up. Which meant that Hyungwon hadn’t slept in three days. He already missed the signs of what you were about to do. He wouldn’t miss anything else. Not until he heard your voice. Saw your beautiful eyes. Made you promise to never do this to him again. The doctors said if he had gotten home just five minutes later you would be dead right now. Hearing that terrified him almost as much as what he saw when he got home that day. The thought that if he hadn’t made it in time it would be his fault. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself.

Hours passed by. Eventually exhaustion won out, pulling Hyungwon into unconsciousness.

Time rewound to a week earlier. For a few days, things were back to normal. You were laughing, smiling. But one day you told him you weren’t feeling well. Hyungwon offered to stay and take care of you but you insisted he go to work, not wanting to make trouble for his hyungs. He fought you but eventually gathered his things, kissing you on the forehead before heading out. Keeping his mind off of his sick girlfriend proved difficult, but he made it through the day and couldn’t be happier to return to you. He thought about stopping for food on the way home but put it off, wanting to check on you first. When he got home he called your name, hoping you’d be awake. When you didn’t answer, he shrugged, taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket like he normally did. Figuring you must still be sick, he grabbed you a glass of water before heading to the bedroom to wake you up. After walking closer, it donned on Hyungwon that something was off. Usually you snored quite loud when you were sick, but approaching the bedroom door all he heard was silence.

“Y/N?” he called as he slowly opened the door, not expecting to see what he saw.

“NO!!”

Hyungwon cried out, his body jerking upward as he woke from the terrible nightmare. His eyes scanned the room wildly for a moment before finally landing on you. Realizing it was just a dream he let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against his chair and rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Not since he found you. He wasn’t sure why, but he was grateful. He needed to be strong for you while you were asleep. Maybe if you sensed it somehow it would help you wake up. Hyungwon looked at his phone to check the time. It was 2am. The last time he checked it was 8pm. Strange. He didn’t feel like he’d slept for that long.

Another thing Hyungwon saw when he checked his phone was a text message from your sister, not too long after he fell asleep.

8:25 pm - Y/S/N: Doctor said they’re going to try to wake her up in the morning. You should get some sleep. Please? =(

Hyungwon sighed, ignoring the message. Your sister had been at the hospital almost as long as Hyungwon, only going home after the sun goes down. She took off work for the time being, but it was still hard to see you in the hospital bed. She blamed herself a lot. She was your big sister. She’s been there your whole life. She knew you best. She should have seen something was wrong. Once she goes home every day, she makes sure to check in on Hyungwon every couple of hours. She may be able to hide her feelings well, but she knew Hyungwon couldn’t. She knew how much harder it was for him. He had mixed feelings about it. He felt guilty. He wanted to be stronger for both you and her. But he was also grateful that he wasn’t totally alone.

The rest of the morning seemed to drag, more so than the last few days. As much as he wanted to see you awake, he was afraid of what would happen. What you would say. Why you did this. If you were going to try again. If you even woke up. Your doctor finally came around at about 8am. He gave you a shot in your IV and left again after checking your vitals. All that was left now was to wait. Hyungwon sat down in his chair and took your hand, rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, something you usually did to calm each other down when you were nervous.

“Please wake up,” Hyungwon whispered. “I know… I haven’t been paying as much attention to you as I should have been. I know I took you for granted. I didn’t mean to… I’ll be better. I’ll make sure you never feel like you need to do this ever again. Just come back to me…” For the first time in days he cried. Saying it out loud made him feel so much worse, but he meant it. He would fix this.

.

.

.

Waking up after nearly dying was very weird. Your body was very heavy. You couldn’t really move at first. Lots of emotions were involved. Disappointment and anger. Something had obviously gone wrong if you were alive. You must have taken too long writing your goodbye letters and been found. Confusion. Looking around you noticed you weren’t at home. But this didn’t look like a normal hospital room. It was more casual, like a hotel room with hospital equipment in it. Surprise. Looking to your side you saw your boyfriend, slouched in a chair fast asleep, grasping your hand. Guilt. Looking closer you saw that Hyungwon’s eyes were stained with tears. You expected that before you left, but you never thought you’d live to see it. It made you regret what you’d done. If he was sleeping here, he must have been here the entire time, which made you feel worse. He shouldn’t be here. Just as you were going to try moving again, Hyungwon stirred, his eyes barely open as he sat up, keeping a hold on your hand. You didn’t have enough strength to sit up, but you were able to squeeze his hand. As soon as he felt it, his eyes flew wide open. He looked at you in shock for a moment before calling the doctor. It kind of hurt. You thought he would have at least said something first.

“How do you feel?” The doctor asked once he checked your pulse and blood pressure.

“You’re joking right?” You replied. Your throat was dry, so you didn’t have much volume, but there was still bite in your voice. “I just tried to kill myself, and failed. How do you think I feel?” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hyungwon flinch, but your eyes stayed on your doctor, who was unaffected by your snarkiness.

“I mean physically.”

“Sluggish. Heavy. I can’t really move much.”

“Well you were unconscious for three days, so that’s expected. Just keep trying and it’ll go away. What else?”

“Just a dry throat.”

“Well that’s good. Um.. we’ll get you some water and I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. There’s other things that need addressed but since you just woke up they can wait until tomorrow, okay?” He smiled, scribbling something on his clipboard before leaving. The silence in your room was deafening. Hyungwon stood a few feet away, his eyes never leaving you since he called the doctor in. After a minute you started to feel awkward, clearing your throat.

“Can you.. um.. get me something to drink?” He remained silent as he poured water into a cup and adjusted your bed so that you were sitting up. You downed the entire cup half out of thirst, half out of nervousness. Afterwards you sat quietly for another few minutes, not really sure what to say. You knew you needed to talk. You owed him that much. You just didn’t know how to start. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your hands, too ashamed to look at him while speaking. “Won-”

“Why?” Hyungwon interrupted, his voice cracking. “Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you do this to me? I thought things were getting better. Why did you try to leave me?”

“Hyungwon.. I didn’t think..”

“No. You thought too much. I’ve told you over and over. I love you. So much.. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t alone. I thought last time you had finally started to understand that.”

“I do..”

“Then why? Look at me and tell me why.” Reluctantly you looked up at Hyungwon. He looked absolutely heartbroken. It made your throat swell and your eyes water. The realization of what you’ve done finally hits you like a truck. You hated yourself. How could you do this to him?

“I don’t know..” You answered meekly. “I just.. Feel so worthless.. and incompetent.. and inferior.. all the time. I’m nothing but a burden to everyone.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s nothing anyone did.. Like you said, I was getting better. But after a while it just started rushing back and pounding in my head. Eventually I just lost it. I thought, ‘I should just kill myself. Nobody would miss me anyway.’” Hyungwon took in a sharp breath but you kept going. You wanted to make things clear so he didn’t blame himself anymore. “I didn’t want to when I first thought that. I was still hanging on somehow. But eventually I started to believe what I was telling myself over and over. So finally I did.” You sighed, feeling the slightest bit of relief after letting it out. But glancing around and seeing where you were, the feeling was short-lived. “It obviously didn’t work..”

“It almost did.. And I’m glad it didn’t. Because if it had.. if you had..” Hyungwon paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I honestly have no idea what I would have done.”

“You would have got through it.”

“You don’t know that!” He sighed. He didn’t want to raise his voice. This was a very serious conversation and he needed to get through to you, not make you feel worse. He leaned forward, taking your cup and setting it on your bedside table so he could take both of your hands in his. Looking deep into your eyes his did his best to convey the sincerity of his words, desperate for you to believe him. “Listen to me. You mean the absolute word to me. Even if I can’t always be there for you you’re always there for me. No matter how exhausted I am, you keep me sane. The first and last thing I think about every single day is how much I love you and how much it would devastate me to try and live without you. And it’s not just me that needs you. The boys miss you like crazy already. I didn’t tell them how bad it was.. It didn’t feel right.. like it wasn’t my place. Don’t even get me started on Y/S/N. She holds it together while she’s here. But she starts to break down on her way out the door. She’s been worried about the both of us. I think she’s texted me more in the last few days than in all of the time I’ve known her.” You chuckled at that. Your sister never disliked Hyungwon, but she was always apprehensive about being close with him when you weren’t around. You tried to reassure her it was fine, that she had nothing to worry about, but she still gave the two of you your space unless specifically invited. But hopefully that would be different from now on. “But my point is, you aren’t alone. You’re not an inconvenience. You’re loved. All you need to do is not shut us out. Let us back in. We’ll take care of you. Even after you may not need us to anymore.” Not wanting to start bawling, you simply nodded. It would be really hard for your depression to fade into the background. But seeing how this affected him and how much he really cared, you wanted to try.

.

.

.

You wanted to live.

[thedistantstorm]

Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name) 12

Found Family | Zavala is Tower Dad | Father-Daughter Relationship | Childhood Trauma and Recovery | Canon-Typical Violence | Amputation

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11

This time: Zavala begins a process. The City’s child-care system begins another.

-/

The day is spent in a flurry of treatments: they make her do these really dumb - but hard - exercises, and they send a doctor to talk to her who asks weird questions. None of that ruins her good mood though. She's achy but not unhappy. She even gets to take a real bath, for the first time in the two plus weeks since she's been in the hospital, and when the nurse helps her back to bed, she gets to sit in the chair Zavala usually uses when he visits. It's a nice change.

Karena is exceptionally happy when she comes by in the afternoon, talking to Amanda about how well she's been doing and how proud she is of the girl's determination. Not that the matron isn't normally supportive, but it's nice to be told those sorts of things. She leaves after supper when Zavala arrives, meeting him in the doorway. Whatever they say to each other misses Amanda's ears. 

Not that it matters, Zavala picks her up and balances her on his lap, Shiori transmatting the blanket he's been working on at night over their legs. A skein of yarn appears next, with two silver knitting needles.

"Only a few more rows, and I'll be done with your blanket," He tells her, depositing the remote on the bedside table into her hands.

She looks up at him, both bashful and thrilled. "Fer me?" 

He smiles at her and she beams when he nods. "Find us something to watch while I finish it, hmm?"

She picks something educational - she feels like he'd like that, and she doesn't want to seem like a baby who only watches cartoons. In the end, the documentary about songbirds of the EDZ is not nearly as interesting as the methodical way Zavala knits, his eyes on the screen but his hands moving on their own. He pauses when her hands cover his. She looks pointedly at the screen, as if she has no idea how her hands got where they are. He moves them, pressing one hook into each of her palms before replacing his hands over top of them.

Each move is slower with their combined hands, Zavala watching now to make sure they do not make any uneven stitches. “Each row has to be counted so that the number of stitches are even,” He says to her softly, a rumble of sound she feels in her back more so than from the volume of his voice. “Seventeen more and we’ll begin the next.”

He counts each aloud, taking care to make sure the yarn does not get tangled. When he reaches zero, he has her hold the skein. She looks at him dubiously.

"Ya don't need me to help, do ya?"

He raises an eyebrow, she looks up and over her shoulder to see it. "Is it boring?"

She shakes her head, suspecting he's the type of person who can make anything interesting enough. "Jus' seems like you can do it yerself. I'm just slowin' you down."

Shifting the skein of yarn from her hands to his left hip, he hands her the thick needles and covers her hands once more. Casually, he muses, "I don't mind if it takes longer... and a little help would certainly not be remiss. You aren't tired yet, are you?"

"Nah," She hums, fully aware that she'd deny it even if she was, just to be held onto a while longer. "This's relaxin'."

Zavala chuckles. "It is," He agrees. "Our new row has one hundred forty-six stitches. Ready?"

Amanda's errant curls bounce when she nods. He smooths one back from her face as she chirps, "Ready!"

-/

Karena meets him outside the ward as he heads for the Tower in the morning. She hands him a large envelope, tutting gently as he stretches. "You do realize that having a child means you'll have to sleep at some point, right?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I slept for four hours," He informs the motherly woman. 

"That chair is hardly comfortable," Karena quips. She would know, spending most of her days in it, herself.

"I assure you I've had worse." His tone errs on indulgent for a moment before switching gears, indicating the file inside the envelope. "What do I need to do?"

"Fill it out completely. They ask that you have a space - a bedroom - for the child, which will be inspected before she's brought into it. Considering her injury you may have to make modifications before she can come home, and with your work, I would suggest some folks you'd trust to watch her, should the board have any questions." Karena regards him with a sharp eye. "Amanda seemed rather fond of 'Miss Eva.'"

He nods, already planning to speak with his friend on the subject.

"But for right now, you'll fill that out and get it to me, I'll get it sent to the board of governors, and the rest should honestly be a formality, once they see your name. You have my blessing, and usually these go without a hitch once you have the principal matron's approval regardless of the adopter’s status."

"Good." He taps the paperwork. "I will have my Ghost send you the digital copy this afternoon, unless you need the physical version? I can make the time."

"Digital is fine." Karena smiles. He may not act like it, but she can tell he’s eager to get the details set in stone. "Did you tell her?"

He shakes his head. "Not until everything is approved. I don't wish to worry her more. I fear she'll obsess about any delays, and she's finally starting to be in better spirits. I would hate for the bureaucracy to bring her down if it takes some time to finalize. Besides, she won’t be able to truly come home with me for some time. I feel like it should be handled delicately.”

Karena can’t keep the grin from her face, even as she shakes her head. She wasn’t wrong in her assessment that he would be an excellent parent. He’s calm, rational, and his willingness to think things through is a huge asset to handling the very unique situation little Amanda is in. 

“I’m just thrilled,” She gushes. “I’d been hoping you would come around. I just know in my heart this is what’s best for her. For you both.”

-/

The late morning was always a busy time for new intakes. In fact, considering it was the beginning of the week, the poor secretary would likely be making charts and combing through paperwork for her designated physicians until well after her shift was to end. Usually, though, the children brought in were quiet, surrounded by a large number of caretakers or sedated.

It must have been a full moon because the doors opened to a girl positively screaming, face nearly purple from crying and yelling all at once. “Take me back,” She’s yelling, dissolving into hiccoughing wails. “I don’t wanna be here!”

The woman behind the nurse pushing the stretcher scoffs. “Honey,” She says, in an almost patronizing voice, it’s so sugar-sweet, “There is no reason for a child to be treated at a military hospital. We have our own facilities, and they are far nicer.”

“Please,” The girl begs, looking for anyone who will listen, “I want Matron Karena.” Her voice rises to a fever pitch, shrill enough to make people wince. “Take. Me. Back!”

That seems to do it for the woman behind her. “That’s enough,” She snaps. “You are a ward of this City. Due to your injuries, Karena and your previous home are not equipped to take care of you long-term. Therefore, you are here. You should be grateful. It’s far nicer here than in that wretched home or some stagnant medical bay.”

Turning to the secretary, the woman says, “This is Amanda Holliday. Make her a chart and call for a psychiatrist. The one who contacted me in the first place was wretched, even if he made the right call.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ow! Hey, don’t do that!” One of the nurses jumps back, holding the side of her face. “You shouldn’t hit.”

“Don’t touch me,” Amanda snarls. “Jus’ take me back.”

The woman motions to one of the white-coat wearing staff. “Doctor, get her something for the pain. She looks like she’s hurting.”

“Yer the one who’s gonna be hurtin’ if ya don’t take me back,” She retorts, but the woman grabs her arm with an iron grip, clearly used to dealing with rebellious children.

One of the doctors steps forward, easily ducking the flailing leg she kicks out at him. After all, she only has the one, the other is short and sore and weeping through her bandage - she must have been flailing around more than she thought.

“Keep her still, Matron Gracie.”

She screams when they give her the pain medication, even though it’s pushed through an existing IV line and she never gets poked. The dose is excessive and effective, hitting her bloodstream quickly. Her eyes roll back almost immediately, her arms falling back to her sides atop the gurney.

“Always something exciting around here,” Matron Gracie says, with a toothy smirk. It’s just another day on the job for her, clearly. “Get the kid in her room. Maybe she’ll be a bit more cooperative when she wakes up.”

[lucytara]

okay since walk where the wild things grow was posted back in march or whatever ive had a bunch of questions over time about the Lore™. i kept saying i’d make a post or something explaining it all and i finally did it!

the beginning/first war/etc

in the beginning, the world itself actually seems very similar to what v6 is describing re: salem’s origin. magic was much more common, and many could access/wield it. blake, yang, weiss, ruby, and pyrrha had a much more uncommon ability with it - they were basically gifted, in a way. they could do stronger things, they could learn to harness it in ways normal people couldn’t. and they were among the front lines in the first war against the darkness. 

ozpin gifted them their greater forms of magic, tying power to their souls and basically rendering them immortal. he also sensed incredible magic inside of jaune and tried to gift him something similar, but jaune never learned to access it. 

even then, yang was always the most powerful. she utilized her power in a way others didn’t, or they gravitated towards other things. blake, for instance, would’ve much rather created than destroyed - which is the literal influence of blake over yang’s soul where wwtwtg picks up. yang leans towards creation now because of blake. 

they were more magical than human by the end of the first war. the scale was so much grander than anything now. think like demigods or something. they weren’t quite transcendent but they were close. 

adam was more human than magical. his power came more in the form of intangible effects - leadership, an otherworldly charisma to the point of forced influence, physical strength, willpower. the ability to strike unrelenting fear. he still was magical, but his gifts weren’t primarily magical like the maidens.

blake and yang were the biggest threats in existence. yang was very much the personification of fire and fury and destruction, think yang in early volumes, letting her emotions get the best of her, dictate her moves. blake was really the only one who could keep her in check - not in a bad way, but blake was much more strategic, worked more from shadow, could play around with day and night and darkness, lightning and thunder and storms. and they both made each other stronger because they wanted to keep the other safe so badly. they drove each other to extremes, like qrow tells her. they did things nobody thought possible just to protect the other.

because of this they became the primary targets, aside from ozpin himself. and their enemies stopped fighting them directly, instead search for a new way: undo what ozpin had done, detach power from one of them, leave them aimless. this is their final fight together - countless people died trying to stop this from happening - but blake’s power ultimately was unbound, only they didn’t realize it would go to the last person in her thoughts, which was yang. adam managed to strike yang in the chaos of the battle, trying to protect basically powerless blake at this point, unable to harness all the power that was now inside of her. so blake essentially sacrifices herself to buy yang time. adam was the one who killed her. 

holding now nearly-limitless power and basically a force of nothing but rage and revenge and grief, yang destroys everything evil - banishes it, burns it, tears it to pieces - and the population’s so decimated at this point anyway, this was almost a post-apocalyptic world, ruby and weiss and pyrrha and jaune are dead - and yang creates the pocket dimension where we see salem live in the series, essentially, locks away what can’t be destroyed, basically the concept itself of magical evil. that’s really the limit of her power. and at the end of all things, now left only with her grief, she grows flowers, trees, forests, creates rainstorms, oceans. in her last moments she’s thinking of blake and the world she wants to find blake in again, and it isn’t the war-torn hell surrounding her

Past Lives

separating blake’s power from her soul should have made it impossible for them to find each other again, and for awhile - a lonnng while - it did. when yang couldn’t find her the next life, or the next, she forgot more and more until she was left with only the knowledge that love had been there itself. 

adam was the one who found blake next. blake, not having her own pwer to know for certain, only felt a strange connection to him without realizing it was a sinister one. it ended poorly for her, as it does in every life adam exists. when he’s able to influence blake, she and yang rarely cross paths. however, in lives he doesn’t exist, blake and yang have plenty of almosts - they’re in the same city at the same time, the same festival, on opposite sides of the street, walking the same woods, etc. maybe yang catches the back of her head in a crowd, but she blinks and blake’s gone. 

in plenty of lives, yang runs across adam and without remembering fully who he is or what he’s done, murders him. some part of her soul has that age-old instinct and recognizes the part he plays in her life. he’s the biggest threat to her and she never lets him live.

however, unlike yang, adam (and evil in general) grows weaker with time. the power itself dilutes every life because evil can’t reincarnate without extraordinary effort and chaos to take advantage of in the world itself. 

which brings us to...present day!

in wwtwtg, adam’s hold over blake breaks entirely. it’s why she’s able to leave him, and why she travels to vale instead; the pull on her soul is too strong, even though she doesn’t recognize it. after this life, he’s never able to influence her again.

yang and blake look the most similar to their first selves, which is one of the reasons their connection finally overpowers every other influence over it. not only do their souls recognize each other, but on some level they literally recognize each other.

like yang says later, blake should not have been able to see her in the forest the first time they meet. she was masking herself, but blake’s immune to the effect of it because they’re soulmates. like she says, she’ll recognize yang anywhere.

the island in the ocean near where they have their first kiss is blake’s grave (a lot of you guessed this which was super cool). it’s the centralization of yang’s grief, but also of what was her hope for the future. it’s eternally in conflict; the residue of the magic and emotion was too strong.

the ruin just outside of Shor, the crumbling house where they grow the flower, is where they used to live. the magical presence is strong because their power soaked into the world around them. in their first life, before she died, yang put it under some sort of protective spell, keeping it more intact than anything else. Shor itself would’ve been the capital city back then; all of them lived there before and during the war. it was a primary trading port, situated near a deep bay (which is now cut off from the ocean). it was so entrenched in magic that it managed to survive total annihilation, and it’s the largest ruin that exists in remnant. think pompeii, but even bigger. 

ozpin now is something that lives almost around the fringes of the world, rather than in it. he’s kind of like salem in that way, the concept of evil, and the concept of hope. but of course he made a visit to ensure blake didn’t have any reason to leave.

the books in the shop do allude to their pasts. remorse of time - blake and yang thought they’d find each other and they didn’t. the first six - hint that there were 6 of them, like is revealed at the end. darkest game - the final part of the war that got blake killed, sort of how the evil became its own undoing by killing her. 

cinder was reincarnated their last life, and she was able to steal their power. yang could’ve defeated her easily, but two of her friends were dead, and she was tired. something was telling her to start over. she knew cinder wouldn’t be able to handle the power she’d get from yang, and yang essentially let herself die. that’s why cinder was more grimm than monster when ruby finally found her - yang’s power was the tipping point, so overwhelming it was like acid, eating away at her body.

during the fight in mistral, yang’s soul was essentially reacting to blake being there the way she would’ve been in the very beginning. she was driven to protect her, to do her justice. like instinct, like something feral. the power she accessed was even greater than normal. like it’d been unleashed.

ruby and yang are always sisters or half-sisters. they don’t normally start showing their gifts until they’re five, so there’s no way for parents in vale/mistral to know in advance. like, they can’t be like, shit just had a kid who’s a maiden and i don’t want another one, time to stop having kids. they aren’t always born in their kingdoms; ruby and yang were both born in vale, but the guard at the time (qrow’s the main one here, ironwood in atlas, etc) determine their positions based on their memories of their past lives among other things. ruby always would’ve been drawn to mistral. pyrrha likes to say the desert just agrees with her.

ruby and weiss don’t always have a romantic relationship, unlike blake and yang, who always do from here on out. it depends entirely on the life. sometimes their relationship is just that in itself: they’re soulmates.

people ask me all the time if blake ends up getting her powers back. all i’ll say on that is that there is definitely a way, should they ever decide to pursue that course. ;) 

thanks to everyone who asked questions and if it wasn’t answered here you can shoot me a message!! <33

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heart of Steel - IV

Description: Sir James is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. Ballads have been written about him. Men fear him. He is the most trusted knight of the King Henry. So why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to Princess Y/N?

Pairing: Medieval AU -Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 3,285

Warning: If you’re a history buff, probably don’t read this because the historical inaccuracies will most likely drive you crazy. 😅

Series Masterlist

The castle was in an absolute frenzy as servants prepared for the ball.

Usually it was the princess’ responsibility to arrange and plan such affairs. But Y/N just couldn’t bring herself to care. Maybe if the ball wasn’t all for her, she’d be able to swallow her pride and play her part.

She managed to convince Tony to take a ride with her. It was only after Bruce told him it would be good for her that he finally agreed.

Now it was the two of them, along with a small army of guardsmen. Bucky, Sir James Rupert, Sir Clinton, Sir Samuel, Peter, and Sir Harold trailed behind the royal siblings. They pretended to give them some semblance of privacy.

“I think this is the longest time we have gone without speaking, sister.” Tony teased, but there was worry in his eyes.

“Hmm?” She hummed. “I apologize, Tony. I am just trying to breathe the fresh air.”

“You know, whenever you out here, you act as if you have not seen the sun in years. You breathe the air as if you will never get a another chance.” Tony’s tone was humble, yet serious.

“Do you ever wish you were born a commoner, Tony?” Y/N asked before she could stop herself.

“I think it would be unwise for me to answer that question.”

Y/N laughed lightly, “You have always been better at playing the game than I, dear brother. Sometimes I envy you for it.”

“If your wish were granted, if you were but a mere commoner… what would you possibly do with yourself?” Tony asked.

Y/N smiled at the thought. “I would explore, never stay in one place, see as much of the world as possible. Learn as much as I possibly could and share my new knowledge with whoever wished to hear it. I would seek out the most famed philosophers and painters and poets, and I would ask to hear their stories.”

Bucky smirked as he overheard Y/N share her dream.

“Why can you not fulfill all of these wishes as a princess?” Tony challenged.

“You forget I was not born a man, Anthony. I am not a prince, like you. I cannot go exploring for months on end. I cannot leave my kingdom whenever I wish. It will be even less so when I am married. I will have to look after a castle and a husband... and someday children. My life will be only be an extension of my husband’s. My work will be only that which serves my new King.”

Tony frowned and looked away, knowing not a word she spoke was a lie. He was not one for serious talks such as this. Prince Anthony was known as a rebellious and charming man. His wit and cleverness were just as renowned as his title.

Now he could not give words to lift his sister’s spirits. So Tony did what he did best.

“Are we done feeling sorry for ourselves now, princess?”

Y/N smiled and giggled at her brother’s lack of sensitivity.

An hour or so later, Tony received message that his fiancé Virginia had arrived to the castle. She was visiting for the ball, but their wedding was only months away.

He looked torn on leaving his sister. Who knew how many more rides like this they would share?

“Go!” Y/N urged him. “You look like you have been struck by cupid’s arrow. I will not keep you from your beloved, brother.”

Tony smiled at her teasing. Then his eyes shifted to Bucky.

“You watch over her for me.” He warned the knight evenly.

“Always, Your Highness.” Bucky bowed his head.

Tony took most of the guards with him, leaving Y/N with only Bucky and Peter. The castle was in sight and they were in the safety of the royal grounds. Y/N didn’t need more escorts.

Y/N leaned her head back and closed her eyes as she absorbed the sunshine.

“I think I wish to walk from here,” she announced.

Moon whined as soon as Y/N dismounted. But he nuzzled his shoulder as she started leading him into a walk.

Peter waited for Bucky to follow before getting off his own horse.

“So, when is our next lesson?” Y/N asked Bucky with a grin.

He narrowed his gaze. “When the entire castle is not swarming with servants and visiting royals.”

Y/N humphed in a pout, but knew he was right. There was no way they could sneak around with all the new company.

“Why do you wish to learn how to wield a sword anyhow, Your Highness?” The young squire asked curiously.

“Peter!” Bucky scolded. “You must learn to hold that tongue of yours.”

Y/N chuckled at her knight’s harsh tone. It invoked fear in just about everyone but her.

“It is quite alright, Sir James. He means no harm.” She calmed him. Then the princess turned her attention to the young boy. “Peter, did your mother or father ever tell you not do something when you were a child?”

Peter nodded.

“And did it only make you wish to do it even more?” Y/N continued.

Peter nodded again.

“Well, that is part of it.” Y/N sighed.

“And the other part?” Peter asked.

Y/N frowned at the question. “Have you ever felt powerless, Peter? Ever felt so incapable that you began to feel weak?”

Peter wanted to nod, but the gravity of his princess’ words chilled him.

Y/N stopped walking Moon so she could face the boy head on. “I do not wish to feel weak any longer.”

Peter swallowed thickly from being addressed by the princess so directly. He managed to nod his head and then look away from her intense stare.

Y/N then continued walking forward.

Bucky lingered for a moment to glare at his squire. Then he smacked him on the back of the head when Y/N was far enough away not to notice.

“What?” Peter gasp.

But Bucky just shook his head in disappointment and marched forward.

————

Y/N had made a point not to venture out of her wing when all the the guests had arrived. Every spare room was filled with nobles or royals. She had no intention of socializing with them any more than she already had to.

But as she got ready for the ball (or rather as her team of servants and seamstresses dressed her up as if she were a giant doll) Y/N slightly regretted it.

Her heart was racing from the anxiety and pressure. She knew the people touching and fidgeting with her could feel it. But they would never dare say anything.

Only Wanda watched her with a sympathetic look and tried to give her a reassuring smile. It was moments like these that made Y/N wish she could switch places with her.

Then they were practically shoving her out the door. The party had already started and the King and Queen had specifically requested that the princess come later. 

Y/N had rolled her eyes at their dramatics, knowing they wanted her to make a big entrance. It was just more pressure on her.

Wanda held the door open for Y/N. Bucky and Sir Samuel were waiting patiently for her exit. 

After the incident with Prince Brock and the castle being filled with foreigners, Y/N’s guardsman had been ordered by the King to keep an even more watchful eye on the princess.

“Sir James, Sir Samuel,” Wanda greeted with the bow of her head. She didn’t miss the way Bucky held his breath at the sight of Y/N.

“You shall be the most beautiful woman at the ball, Your Highness.” Sam said with a bow of his head and confident smirk.

The teasing gave Y/N a small relief and she smiled a little. “Thank you, Sir Samuel. But you have not seen the guests of the ball, so your compliments are premature.”

“Oh, I do not need to see the others to know,” Sam corrected with a wink.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good. She doubted she would have another on this dreadful night.

Her eyes fluttered over to Bucky, half expecting him to compliment her, as well.

But he remained silent. Y/N sighed and lifted her skirts, “Shall we?”

Sam nodded, and Bucky started walking without saying anything.

As soon as they arrived at the great hall, Y/N’s breathing became shallow. She was so lost in her own head that she missed Bucky watching her with great concern.

When the herald spotted the princess, he sent a servant to quiet down the music. 

Suddenly the trumpet group started playing the royal fanfare. All of the guests inside were shushing and quieting down in anticipation.

Y/N took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing and rapid heartbeat.  

Sam gave Bucky a warning look when he saw the man shifting back and forth, physically in pain from not being able to give Y/N some sort of comfort.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of Zamora.” The herald called out. 

Sam and Bucky flanked either side of her, just a step behind, as Y/N slowly walked forward. Her head was held high and all signs of anxiety and nervousness were utterly concealed. Y/N moved with a grace and confidence that was unparalleled.

Finally she made her way to her small throne beside the King and Queen. Anthony sat on the other side of their parents. As soon as she sat down, the music began playing once again and the guests resumed talking, but at a much quieter volume.

Bucky and Sam stood in the shadows just behind her throne, keeping a watchful eye out.

Y/N’s own gaze flickered around the room, taking in as much information as possible while also keep a stoic expression. She recognized old faces and saw the new too.

Almost immediately, royal families started approaching the throne and either greeting the King and Queen or introducing themselves.

To Y/N’s shock, the first were the Asgardians. 

Their kingdom rested in the hinterlands. They were isolated and distant, staying out of affairs that did not directly involve them. There were always whispers of the family practicing magic. But Y/N found it hard to believe it could ever be the dark kind with the way the eldest son, Thor, appeared. The man was a giant. But reminded Y/N more of a loving dog than the fierce lion she heard about. He had kind eyes and a warm smile.

His older sister and younger brother hardly even looked related to him. Icy eyes and greasy black hair. If anyone practiced dark magic, it was them.

“Princess Y/N, it is truly an honor to make your acquaintance,” Thor greeted with a deep bow.

“We do not see much of the Asgardians, Prince Thor,” Y/N greeted. “I am honored you made the long and tiresome journey for Zamora.”

“Not for Zamora,” he corrected, “for you, Princess Y/N.” Prince Thor said with a charming smile.

Y/N smirked at his charm. It was entertaining… for now.

King Henry shared a look with Thor’s father. “We shall speak more privately later in the evening, King Odin.”

Just like that, the responsibilities of the night were brought back to the forefront of Y/N’s mind.

Y/N forced herself to sit up even straighter. “You will save me a dance, Prince Thor?”

Her forwardness and charm caught Thor off guard, but he quickly bowed his head in agreement and walked slowly away with his family. But not before looking over his shoulder to catch another glimpse of Y/N.

The only other family that had made a longer journey than the Asgardians was the Wakandans. It must’ve taken them at least a week to arrive Zamora.

Y/N was immediately fascinated with them. King T’Challa was surrounded by female knights, not a male in sight. However, Y/N feared them more than any man in the great hall.

“They are called the Dora Milaje.” Sam whispered into Y/N’s ear before they approached. “They are the world’s fiercest warriors and the king’s most loyal companions.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up at the information. All of the women’s head were shaven and they wore bright red armor, which was unlike the dull greys and blacks Y/N was accustomed to. 

However, Princess Shuri, dowager Queen Ramonda, and King T’Challa were dressed head to toe in black. It was another peculiarity for Y/N, since the royals she knew illustrated their wealth with bright colors and expensive jewelry. T’Challa bowed his head. There was a quiet confidence to him that Y/N respected. Somehow she already knew he was wise beyond his years.

“King T’Challa you have made such a journey to a land so foreign from your own,” Y/N greeted him. “I fear we will only disappoint.”

T’Challa smirked at her modesty, “Nonsense, Princess Y/N. Your beauty is worthy of a journey three times longer than our own.”

“No need to flatter me, King T’Challa. Your mere presence is an honor in its own.” Then her eyes flickered to the Dora Milaje that stood behind him. “I know so little of your kingdom, I hope you will appease me and open my mind to the mysteries of Wakanda.” Y/N answered with a radiant curiosity in her eyes. It was one of the few things she would say tonight that was genuine.

T’Challa nodded with a smile of his own. “It would be my pleasure, Princess Y/N.”

After they moved away, Y/N’s mother gave her a reassuring smile, proud of her daughter’s grace and manners. But Y/N hadn’t surprised herself, she knew how to play her part in all this.

The pattern continued for the next hour. Y/N received royal family after royal family. Her hand was either kissed by a man or she was given hollow compliments. It grew boring, and Y/N slowly became mentally and socially exhausted. She already planned to lock herself in her wing after tonight and speak to no one for a week.

Thor gave Y/N the dance he promised. They spoke polite and buoyant conversation. Y/N didn’t mind him at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed his warm presence. But it was nearly impossibly to know if she could share a life with a man she had just met.

There were also horrible conversations. Egotistical princes and kings, who were of the same breed as Rumlow, just less threatening and evil.

After a few hours, Y/N needed a moment to herself. She gave a look to Sam and Bucky, telling them with her eyes to stop anyone from following her.

She rushed out to the gardens that were luckily undiscovered by the guests.

The cold, fresh air worked miracles. Y/N closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

Y/N knew she should’ve listened to Wanda when she tried to force her to eat beforehand. Now she had a stomach filled with wine and no supper. It did, however, make her relax quite a bit.

The princess was broken out of her alleviation when the sound of heavy footsteps were heard from behind her.

“If another prince compliments me on my beauty, I shall surely be sick.” Y/N grumbled, thinking it was Bucky, sent to lead her back to the ball.

“Well, then I will be sure to keep my distance,” a deep voice replied.

Y/N’s eyes widened when she realized it was not Bucky and did not recognize the voice. 

She quickly whipped around to find a tall, handsome man standing before her. His hair was uncommonly short, but his eyes were a blue that could rival Bucky’s.

“Please forgive me,” Y/N bowed her head. “That was very improper of me. I mistook you for my guard.” She hated losing at this game.

The man chuckled, “I quite enjoyed it actually.” There was no lie in his tone.

“But it is I who must apologize. I startled you and have now not properly introduced myself.” He stepped forward and bowed slightly. “I am King Steven of Midgard.”

Y/N curtsied, but her mind was racing with this information. The King of Midgard? It was the only kingdom bigger than her own. She could have sworn it was King Joseph who ruled. Y/N scolded herself for not being more informed.

“And you are?” He asked in return.

Y/N realized she had rudely not given her own name. But then she recognized that King Steven actually did not know who she was.

“Do you truly not know?” She asked him carefully.

“I do not. But the longer you keep it from me, the more infuriated I become with my ignorance.” Somehow it was not charm, but blatant honesty.  

Y/N was not used to blunt conversations, especially with royals. She found it oddly refreshing.

“Y/N,” She muttered in a voice that was her own and not a forced voice of a royal. She didn’t know why she left out her title.

King Steven’s eyes widened, immediately recognizing his mistake. “You are Princess Y/N of Zamora?” 

Then he looked behind them at the ball; the ball that was solely being thrown in her honor. What a fool he was.

But Y/N let out the loud laughter her mother tried to rid her of and nodded.

Steve seemed in daze from hearing her laugh.

Then he opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind and closed it.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, proving that she’d caught it.

“I intended to pay you a compliment,” King Steven explained, “but then I remembered your initial grievance.”

“I have robbed you of a man’s only device for luring women. Whatever shall you do?” Y/N teased.

King Steven glared at her playfully, “I have an inclination there are far more things to worship about your character than something so obvious as your beauty.”

Y/N’s smile was wiped from her lips. Once again, his words felt like a transparency rather than a charming line.

“I apologize. I have made you uncomfortable.” He said quickly, clearly having misread her reaction.

Then Y/N took in his clothing.

For a king, he was dressed rather modestly. He chose to wear muted browns and leather, rather than the bright velvets and plush furs of most royals. However, the clothing did nothing to hide his build. 

There was a sword strapped to his waist. It wasn’t uncommon to see on a king; but it was usually more for show than purpose. Though Y/N had an inkling that King Steven knew how to use it quite well.  

“I must confess, I am not very good at this.” King Steven added. Her silence seemed to make him nervous.

“And what is that exactly, King Steven?” Y/N asked gently.

“Courting women,” he confessed. Then his eyes widened in horror. “But you are not just a woman! You are a princess. Please, forgive me. I have done nothing but make a fool of myself since being graced with your presence.”

To his shock, Y/N giggled.

“Please, you need not apologize. I find it rather endearing... if I am being truthful.”

Before the King could say anything more, they were interrupted.

“Your Highness, the King has requested your return.”

It was Bucky.

Y/N’s smile dropped at the sight of him.

Why did she feel like Bucky had caught her doing something wicked?

The guilt ate away at her.

Then King Steven turned around to address the knight.

“Bucky?” The man said in absolute astonishment.

------

Part V

Okay this will now be the 4th chapter in a week. so write me a novel of thoughts, feelings, and reactions. make me happy ❤️

[12miraenie]

Pieces

Pairing: Minseok x Reader 

Genre: Angst, Fluff 

Warning: Potential trigger for miscarriage? 

Word Count: 5k+ 

Summary: The mirror is not broken, reflections are still as clear as day. It’s just the way you see yourself that’s changed. 

A/N: Compiled up 2 anon’s request, here it is a long one. Proofread was as always...not done. Enjoy! 💕

✾ Link to Masterlist  

“I’ll tell Nurse Ahn to bring in a cup of tea.”

The screeching sound of a chair being pulled back was followed by you hastily standing up and waving your hand to the doctor. Too distressed to think otherwise, you removed your jacket from the hanger along with your scarf and bowed down.

“Thank you but no, Doctor. I want to take some air.”

You avoided his eyes when you bowed once more and went out of his office. You didn’t need to look in his eyes to know what must be in them. Sorry, pity, sympathy. You didn’t want another to look at you like you are a broken piece of toy, the very thing your parents did when you woke up in a hospital bed.

You climbed the stairs to the roof with much difficulty, feeling like every organ was being lacerated by force with each step. There was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, and your hair was in messy strands around your face. Pushing open the iron door, you were greeted by a strong surge of winter wind. It sent shivers down your body, goosebumps were aligned on top your skin. With small steps, you walked over to the ledge and sat down against the railing. Tears spilled out the moment your body came in contact with the cold, hard ground.

Good thing your parents brought you to a private hospital. The floor was quiet, no busy in and outs or conversations buzzing in the hallway like regular hospitals. It was good nobody saw you running down the hall crying, hair in front of your face looking like a mess. 

You shivered again and pulled your scarf tighter around your neck. If your parents saw you like this, they would take turns to scold you about not taking care of your health, especially since you’ve just come out of a big surgery.

It was supposed to be the first good night for you in three months. After the company project you’ve been working on was completed, you finally got the chance to rest, and your parents came to town to stay with you until Minseok’s done his conference in Japan. It was two hours before the scheduled arrival of your parents. You remember grocery shopping and cooking by yourself in the kitchen, and the next second dizziness came crashing down on you, and you struggled to stand all of a sudden. Before you could hold on to something to stable yourself, you had blacked out.

The next time you opened your eyes, a blur of people were around you, running along and pulling your stretcher in the hospital hallway and someone, probably an EMT shouting words. Most were just buzzings to you, but you still picked up a few.

“Pregnant patient with minor head injury…huge blood loss.” 

The passing fluorescent lights above your head was the last thing you remembered seeing before darkness took over and you lost consciousness.

Did the result surprise you? You couldn’t come up with a definite answer, because you knew something was wrong long before. There were sudden fatigues, dizziness, or pain in your stomach region that you couldn’t pinpoint what the exact problem was. Busy with work back then, you blamed in on stress and lack of sleep and didn’t bother paying the doctors a visit. When you woke up in the hospital and talked to Doctor Kim, he opened the report and showed you what you had. 

Severe anemia with iron deficiency.

The chance of miscarriage went up a lot because of your inherent problems, and you remembered his next words clearly, “This complication…is not something to be treated lightly. Because you were found and sent here an hour after the blackout, and the anemia symptoms started showing in the early stage of your pregnancy…Y/N, I think it would be unlikely for you to be pregnant again. I’m sorry.”

You clutched the railings tight in your hands, the coldness seeping into your palm fought off the nauseating feeling in your stomach and the bitterness of the bile coming from the back of your throat. It’s impossible for you to think that you were to blame for your own child’s death. How can you take that in lightly? To think that you killed a life. A baby that belongs to you and Minseok.

Oh god.

Your eyes shut tight like a reflex at the thought of Minseok. The last time you called him was a little before the accident at home, you guessed that he’s probably aware of what happened by now. Your parents are not exactly good secret keepers. You bit your lips as a sharp drop of tear escaped your eyes. You can’t even imagine what the kind of look in his eyes would be. Absolute devastation, probably. And when he learns the truth? When he finally realizes that the reason a your-his child’s gone was because of you? What would he think then?

You buried your face in both hands and sniffled. The cold wind left a stinging sensation when air went up your nostrils and more tears came out of your eyes. You didn’t want to see Minseok now, you are not physically and emotionally prepared.

You can’t even look him in the eyes. 

                                     Freshly showered and dressed in a robe, you snuggled up in two extra thick blankets and leaned your back on soft cushions on the uncomfortable hospital bed. You couldn’t even turn around without hitting the side. On the table next to you was the food your parents bought. They even got the fried shrimp from the food stand in Hongdae that people line up half an hour for. Your parents are not usually keen on breaking the supposedly “strict” rule that you have to eat according to doctor’s orders, they probably did all those to cheer you up.

Flicking the remote, you opened the TV and switched to a random drama. Scooting a bit down to a more comfortable position, you leaned your head on the headboard. An IV was still attached to your right hand, tracing your head up, you focused mindlessly on what you read 9% Normal Saline dripping down in a slow pace on the metal hanger.

You hated it. The needle has never left your hand since you woke up. You hated the hospital smell, the never changing menu of hospital food. You hated the way nurses look at you whenever they come in for check-ups. You hated the way your mom canceled her plans to visit her best friend in Europe and your dad dropping everything at work to stay at the hospital all day long. Every time you told them that you are okay, that whatever happened is in the past, they don’t believe you.

It took you one temper tantrum and two hours of explanations to get your parents to agree to only visit you during visiting hours and go home to sleep. They have been here for 50 or more hours and didn’t get one second of closed eyes. You were mentally drained by the time they said goodbye and closed the door behind them. 

You can’t do it all by yourself.

It reminded you how much you miss Minseok. How much easier things would be if he’s here. Your mind went back to the previous times you were hospitalized. He is always the more thoughtful one, bringing you hot packs, reminding you to eat medicine, and holding your hand when you did blood tests and got injections.  Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when your parents told you that he is on the plane back here, but your thoughts are over the place, and you are not sure if seeing Minseok would be a good idea for now.

Taking a sip of the water, you grimaced at its lukewarm taste. You turned your attention back to the TV and pressed down the remote to change channels again. The drama on screen was a sad one, and sadness wasn’t really something you were looking for at the moment. Turning up the volume, you tried to immerse yourself into a variety show you always loved. But somehow it’s hard to even lift the corner of your lips at the show that still gets you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Maybe the sound of the TV was too loud because when the door to your room was slid open harshly, you didn’t expect to see a panting Minseok with the nurse in attendance hot on his trail.

“Sir, visiting hours are over-“

She stopped talking when she saw you were still up. 

“Hey, Soojin, this is my husband over there. Could you please maybe…give us a few minutes?” 

The nurse you’ve grown to be friends with bit her lips before sighing eventually.

“Ok, ten minutes. It’s already against protocol.”

“Thank you, Soojin.” 

She gave you a soft smile and closed the door behind her.

Minseok was frozen on the spot during the whole interaction between you and Soojin. He stayed motionless, the warm brown cashmere coat was still draped over his arms, the luggage tag still intact on his bag, and he was wearing the exact same clothes he packed for the conference. Minseok fixed his eyes on you. You were not one bit prepared to let him see you like this. Too sudden. 

For a while, you just stared at each other. Him standing near the door and you leaning on pillows with barely enough energy to move. Then all of a sudden you burst into tears.

You were scooped into his arms the next second. Minseok’s hold on you was tight, tight enough to squeeze your ribs into one piece. The hospital gown was extremely flimsy, you shivered when your face came in contact with his coat. But it didn’t matter at all. You relished in his body heat and allowed yourself to finally let your guard down once. Surrounded by Minseok’s familiar scent, you convinced yourself that everything’s better now. Nothing else matters because he is here.

Minseok patted your back in a slow, steady pattern until your full sobs quieted down to bare whimpers. The bed dipped when he sat on the edge, and you felt his hands carefully moving the plastic tubing away before finding yours and intertwined your fingers together. His cold hands against your warm ones, but you’ve never felt better.

“Don’t cry. I’m here now.”  

Minseok’s voice came out deep and raspy, and it only spurred you to clutch onto him tighter. As a matter of fact, Minseok really is your only savior, the only person you can hang on for dear life when everything comes down. He has been right beside you for better or for worse. Somehow at the moment your mind went back to your wedding vows when Minseok held your hand in his and said the words “I do.” while staring at you with enough determination and confidence to turn the sun around. You might be biased, but no one is better than Minseok as a husband.

You pulled away from each other, but Minseok didn’t let go of your hands. It was only then you really took in each other. His normally neatly styled hair was messy, strands falling out in different direction. There seemed to be a tension between his eyebrows, you can’t tell if they are creased or not. You moved your eyes from his bloodshot, slightly puffed eyes to the dark circles, and to his chapped lips that were pursed in a straight line.

“Min…”

You addressed him for the first time, there was a fragile edge to your voice that caused Minseok to frown and look at you concerningly. It was hard enough to say those words yourself already, and Minseok’s stare was making it harder. The thought in your head that you were trying so hard to get rid of resurfaced the second he walked in your room, and even though you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it’s not going anywhere. Not even after probably a thousand repetitions of you didn’t do this. 

It’s not your fault.

“I…I lost our child.”  

Once again, you buried yourself in his warmth as if it helps to keep you warm. But the cold, hard feeling from the bottom of your spine could hardly be ignored, and even you were wrapped in Minseok’s arms with a pool of blankets around you, you can’t help thinking about it. How it is your fault, and you killed your child.

“No.” Putting the finger on your lips, Minseok cut you off and shook his head, “Please don’t do this. Not now. I didn’t wait a whole day in Osaka airport for the first flight back here to listen to you blaming yourself. I’m here now. You haven’t lost me.”

You nodded, his tone believable enough for you to relax and focus on him instead. Minseok took off his coat and shoes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sleep. It’s already late. I’ll stay here.“

His words triggered the underlying tiredness that took over your body in one second. The next thing you know, your eyes are closing, your brain is shutting down, and soon your head hit the pillow. Vaguely you remembered Minseok pulling up the blankets over your body and making sure you were comfortable.

The last thing you remembered was a kiss on your forehead before everything went black.

                                           “What about that art show? You told me before that you wanted to go there.”

Not hearing a word from you, Minseok looked up from his laptop and frowned. You were staring at the front absently, only paying a sliver of attention on him or whatever he’s been talking about for the past ten minutes. He sighed loudly and shut the lid closed.

“Y/N?”

This time his voice got louder. “Hey, Y/N?”  

You snapped your head up when Minseok called you the third time, returning from your train of thoughts. It worried Minseok quite a lot now, ever since you recovered you would go into these trances and just blankly staring into space and not paying attention to anything. At first, he thought it was just the side effect of the medicine you ate, but as time passed, it has gotten worse. Increasingly Minseok felt that you have been distancing yourself from him, almost like you did it on purpose. He’s confused and a little angry.

He’s been trying everything to make you happy. You smiled less, went out less, and spoke less. You chose to stay behind the closed doors of your bedroom at home, and even if you are out with him, you don’t seem happy. Heck, Minseok can’t even remember the last time you really had a conversation together.

“Ok. You need to tell me what the problem is. I can’t do this on my own.”

You frowned, eyebrows slightly arched as you turned your attention to him and blinked slowly.

“Do what?“

Minseok sighed, exasperated breath leaving his mouth. “Are you serious? Do you not know the problem? I mean, shouldn’t you know the best if you are the one treating your spouse like a stranger?”

You tugged on the corner of your mouth, letting out a huff. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Min.” You shook your head and leaned down to take a sip of your water. This seemed to agitate Minseok more because he became apparently more aggravated, and louder.

“Really? I know you said you wanted space, but it’s been three months already! And I am tired of my wife distancing herself from me? I am your husband for god’s sake! You should be able to tell me everything!”

“It’s not about the...the accident-” You gulped, still unable to say the word out loud. The mug thudded against the table when you tried to make eye contact with him under the dim kitchen light, but Minseok turned away before you could do so.

“See, this is exactly where the problem is. You still can’t face it, Y/N. How can you get over it if you can’t even admit you had a misc-“

“Stop! Ok? Look, I don’t know what’s with you tonight, Min. Trust me. It’s not about that.” Your fingers clicked the table top with each word. You were getting irritated as well. You admit you were different than before, but he shouldn’t have the audacity to accuse you of not paying him enough attention when something as heartbreaking as losing a child happened to you. Not just your body, your emotions too.

“Trust you? Ok, if this isn’t the problem, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong.“ Minseok threw his hands up in the air and huffed. He pushed through his hair and stared at you dead in the eye, “Are you having an affair? Cheating on me?”  

You were already on the brink of losing control, and when he said that you just snapped. 

“You know what? I never thought you were such an attention seeker before. My world doesn’t go around you, ok? So what if I am cheating? Huh?”

You stood up, anger already burning in full scale. “How can you ask me to move on when I lost a baby-our child from my body? Do you even understand that feeling when you wake up and suddenly can’t feel that extra weight, that extra heart beating inside? You don’t fucking understand, Minseok.”

He went silent for a while and took a position of leaning against the counter.

“You could have talked, communicated with me about everything. You should have done all that to get it off your chest. I don’t know what you are so reluctant to do that.” He shook his head in disappointment. 

Blind anger and hurt drowned out your logic at the moment when you blurted out, “If this is what you think, if you can’t even understand me this much, then we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

You turned around abruptly to your bedroom and slammed the door behind you, leaving Minseok standing in the kitchen. Tears flowed out the moment you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned against the door. Your hands were clutching the door handle so tight trying not to let your emotions go to overdrive.

No sound was made from the outside. After taking a few deep breaths and hastily wiping away your tears, you walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase and started throwing everything in. You had no time to fill half of it before the door burst open, revealing a Minseok in obvious distress, who froze when he saw the suitcase.

All sense of anger was gone in his eyes, and panic took over his features.

“What are you doing?“

A humorless laugh escaped your mouth as you threw another article of clothing in. “Can’t you see? What else is packing for then?“

Minseok reached you in three long strides and took hold of your arm. “No, you are not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”  

His eyes were clouded with frustration, but the panic and anxiety behind his eyes were not exactly concealed in plain sight. His hold on you was strong, but not enough to make you hurt. It almost felt like he’s pleading, holding on to you like he depended on it.

“You can’t leave me like this, Y/N. I can’t-I won’t lose you too.”

Tears that threatened to come out of your eyes didn’t make it before you masked your emotions behind an emotionless face. You shook your arm away from his hold and turned sideways to zip up your suitcase. God it hurt when you looked at him from under your lashes and breathed out, “You can’t do anything if I want to leave, Minseok. You can’t hold me here.”

Minseok dropped his arm and looked down dejectedly. He didn’t look once as you shrugged on a jacket and tugged your suitcase past him into the living room and eventually out of the door.

“Oh god, what have I done?“

                                        Minseok pushed his body up and reached over to his phone reluctantly. His head hurt like hell, and he cursed under his breath when he squinted at the screen. Who the heck calls at 2 in the morning?

His mind got clearer when he recognized the caller ID almost immediately. It belongs to one of your friends, he remembered you telling him that you went to college and took the same history class. He frowned, why would she call him right now?

“Hello?”

He pulled his phone away from his ear immediately. The other end was too loud, hurting his eardrums with what sounded like base and synth music only a nightclub would play. Before he can say anything else, a voice made him sat up instantly.

“Seokie. Minseokie. Why aren’t you here already? They have the best club music here, and the DJ is so hot.” 

A string of giggles and laughs followed suit, and although Minseok can’t help furrow his eyebrows when you mentioned the DJ, he cared more about something else. Like where you are, or what the fuck you are doing in a club.

“What are you do-Just tell me where you are, ok? Are you in a club?” Minseok put his phone closer despite how much his ears hurt from all the noise. You were definitely drunk, slurring all your words and making it hard for him to know what you are talking about.

“Hello? Y/N?”

Minseok threw away his blanket and hurried to put some clothes on.

“Hey! Y/N, are you there?”

After some shufflings on the other end, Minseok was greeted with your friend’s voice. “Minseok? Is it you?”

He had no time for pleasantries and cut straight to the topic, “Where is she? Just give me an address.”

                                         The loud pumping bass made Minseok frown. He has always hated clubs, hated the skyrocketed amount of alcohol people consume there, hated the barely dressed girls who press onto random people, and hated whatever goes on in the hallways or behind doors.

He squeezed through a mountain of people before he could see the bar clearly. Although it was 2 am, people seemed to be having the time of their lives in the club. Minseok saw your friend almost immediately, standing at the end of the bar looking at her phone. As he got closer, he spotted you too. Although you had your head down leaning on the bar counter, he couldn’t have mistaken you for anybody else.

Minseok grabbed your shoulders gently and put an arm around you protectively. Your friend looked up to find him, and a relieved expression took over her features. She shouted over the music, “I’m sorry, she wanted to destress, and I couldn’t stop her, so I had to follow her here to make sure she’s alright. She only drank and never left the bar.”

Minseok nodded curtly when you stirred in his arms. You got up from the bar stool and staggered before turning around and looked him fully in the eye.

“Seokie! You are here!” You said in an artificially high voice, making Minseok frown. It was so obvious that you drank, and by the look of it, you drank more than one shot.

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you? How much?” The last question was directed to your friend, who shrugged and tugged her lips.

“I told her to stop after the third one, but I don’t know, she thrashed around. I didn’t want her to cause a scene.“

Minseok put both hands on your shoulder securely, “Come on, you are leaving right now.”

You giggled and snaked your arms around his waist. Pulling him closer, you tiptoed and whispered in his ear, “Come on, Seokie. Dance with me.”

Minseok’s stare only hardened. He removed your arms from him and gave you a stern look.

“No. I’m taking you home.“

Strangely, you stopped protesting on the way out. Minseok made a path in the crowd and had one arm out to shield you from bumping into other people. You shivered from the chilly wind and Minseok shrugged off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.

He helped you get in and buckled your seatbelt when you stared at him wordlessly, with something unreadable glossed over your eyes. He wasn’t sure if you were conscious enough to know what’s going on, but you didn’t even blink looking at him. You leaned on the passenger seat when Minseok started the engine.

“When was the last time we had fun together? Like real fun? So strange, I can remember you doing the same thing picking me up from a party in college. Whose was it? Chanyeol? Jongin? I can’t remember.” 

You turned your head sideways and looked at Minseok’s side profile. Your cute pout and drunken babblings would have a different effect on him otherwise, but both of his hands were gripping on the steering wheel and no visible emotion was shown on his face. He seemed to be paying full attention to the road, without even casting an eye to you. 

“You are no fun when you are Minseok. I missed Seokie…but it doesn’t matter. When I’m with you, I am happy. Really happy.” You dragged the last word longer on your tongue and pouted. Crossing your arms in front of you, you leaned even closer to him. The seatbelt was straining your actions, and you hissed when it slid across your collarbones roughly. A redlight happened at the same time, Minseok hit the pedal when you fell back to the car seat. 

You giggled and reached one hand over to touch his arm. “Oh, I didn’t know you can be this blunt, Seokie. And rough…but I like it.”

Minseok sighed out loud and grabbed your hand to put it back in your lap. In normal circumstances, he would laugh and roll his eyes at your not so subtle at all flirting, but other things were occupying the entirety of his mind at the moment. Like the fact you turned up in a club utterly wasted, like how you didn’t contact him after leaving for 2 weeks, like what exactly went wrong between you two. 

                                                  You woke up knowing it was the worst morning you’ve ever had in a long time, worse than the time you went out for cocktail tasting with Minseok. Your head felt like it’s been pounded repeatedly by an iron hammer, and your limbs were beyond your body’s control. You groaned at the sunlight hitting your face and turned sideways, unexpectedly hitting something warm. You stiffened and opened one eye, squinting at what’s in front of you. Everything was too bright, but unmistakenly you were inches away from a person. Your eyes widened the moment you tried to piece everything together. Did something happen last night? You tried hard to recall any event from last night, but your mind was of a useless haziness. You jolted up immediately despite how much more your head hurt at the movement. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you tried to process what exactly was going on, before coming face to face with Minseok still lying down on the bed but staring at you with his eyes.

You breathed out loud in relief when you realized it was just Minseok and brushed your hair back. It was hard, not to say awkward, to even maintain eye contact with him after you left that night. You shifted a little further away and leaned your head against the headboard.

“We need to talk.“

Minseok threw the cover off and walked away, leaving his back facing you as he went out of the bedroom. He returned with two tablets and a glass of water, and you took them over gingerly. You gulped down the whole glass hungrily and placed the empty glass on the bedstand.

“Why?”

You didn’t need him to explain further to understand. He was asking you why you left. But how could you tell him? How could you tell him that you can no longer be pregnant? You looked at Minseok once again and took in the sullen look on his face.

He was no better than you in the past two weeks.

You bit down on your lips and took a deep breath, deciding the tell him the truth. He deserves that, more than anyone else.

“It’s not only a miscarriage, Minseok. I…we can never have a baby again.”  

The big moment where Minseok gets all disappointed, angry and slams the door and leave didn’t play out according to your script. He was still in the same position, didn’t even bat an eyelash when you revealed the truth. You frowned, this is not the reaction he should have right now.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know?“ Minseok crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “Y/N, your parents told me the moment I got to the hospital.”

You were at a loss for words. So he knew it from the beginning. All of your stresses, pent-up frustrations and worries were for nothing?

“I didn’t know you put that little faith in me, Y/N. You really thought I would leave you for that?”

“But…” You know how much he loves kids. From day 1 of your relationship, you knew Minseok is an absolute fan of children. So are you. As you all grew older and got married, Minseok would gush over newborn kids from either your friends or his. You were 100% sure that one day you two would have a little life cradled in your arms too. Not being able to have a kid would devastate Minseok, you were sure of that. He could have a way better life without you now.

“Why me? Why didn’t you leave?”

“I didn’t marry you because of other reasons. I married you because you are you and because you’ve shown me what love can feel like. No other person can do that.”

Minseok sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his arms, tight enough for you to feel every curve of his muscle under his t-shirt. Close enough for you to hear his every heartbeat.

“You are the one, Mrs. Kim. I should have never let you out that door that night, and I’m never letting you go again.”

[thetravelerwrites]

A New Generation (Pt. 2)

Rating: Teen Fandom: 魔法使いの嫁 | Mahou Tsukai no Yome | The Ancient Magus Bride Relationships: Hatori Chise x Elias Ainsworth Characters: Elias Ainsworth, Hatori Chise, Chise Hatori, Silver Lady, Silkie, Ruth, Titania, Oberon, Shannon, Stella Barklem, Angelica Burley, David Burley, Althea Burley, Lindel | Lindenbaum, Merituuli Trigger Warnings: Pregnancy, Childbirth, Babies, Infants, Depression, Anxiety, Discrimination, Unplanned Pregnancy, Abandonment, References to Abuse, References to Abandonment, References to Child Murder Words: 8551

As Chise's pregnancy progresses, Elias is consumed with worry that his child will be rejected by both fae and humans, as he had been. Chise struggles with the fear that she might abandon or harm her own children, as her parents did. 

When Elias returned home from London, he sat down with Chise and had a very long, solemn conversation with her about the pregnancy, and for the first time, they talked about a future that also involved their child. Or children, if Chise was correct in her belief that there were two.

He told her about going to speak with Lindel, Simon, and Angelica and what their advice had been. Like him, Chise found Angelica’s tale the most consoling. Knowing that the artificer had felt similar apprehension about procreating helped Chise feel less isolated.

Calling Angelica and talking to her at length also did much to improve Chise’s disposition, not just about Chise’s ability to parent but also about the pregnancy itself. It didn’t cure her of her worries, but having someone to talk to who knew exactly what she was going through was a great comfort to her.

Finally managing to convince Elias to install a landline in the house had been a pretty recent accomplishment. He fought this "modern indulgence" for quite a long time, but when he finally understood that it meant she didn’t have to walk to town to use the public phone every other day, he was more open to the idea, especially since walking long distances was going to become rather difficult for her as time went on. The noise the device made was annoying, but seeing her smile when she answered it was enough to keep him from being too bothered by the sound.

The change in her mood greatly eased Elias’s mind. Watching Chise spiral into a deep, black pit of terror and depression was difficult for him to bear, especially given there was little he could on his own to improve it. As much as he wanted to help her, he had eventually come to understand that sometimes people could only find solace in others who’d had comparable experiences. This was just not his ken, so it was better left to those suited to the task.

He tried to quash his own fears for her sake, but she knew him too well to let him get away with keeping those thoughts to himself. At night, before they slept, she would talk to him; just talk, not expecting him to respond if he wasn’t in the mood to do so, and it helped him. Hearing the sudden shift in her voice from cold despair to tentative hope had done much to alleviate his woes. She encouraged him to be honest with her about what he felt, but didn’t push him to talk if he didn’t want to. More often than not, though, he would. They would lay bear their worries to each other and try to find the bright side. They were both still afraid, but they were facing that fear together.

And it helped.

Summer was in full swing, and Elias was twice as busy as normal now that Chise was limited as to what she could do. He didn’t grumble about it much; after all, he had done everything himself before she had come along. But they had become a well-coordinated, efficient team over the years and he had come to treasure her reserved, supportive assistance in all things, whether practical or magical. He rather missed working in tandem with her.

Though she was no longer allowed to do any of her normal seasonal chores beyond a little light weeding and watering, she would often sit in the garden with him as he worked and help whenever she could, not content with staying in bed all day like an invalid. Besides, having Chise within Elias’s sight and hearing was good for his heart and mind.

Ruth spent his time keeping a close, watchful eye on her, reporting any physical ills that Chise might keep to herself to Elias. As long as she was at rest, though, they were happy enough.

Late one night, he walked into their bedroom to prepare for sleep and found her naked in front of a mirror, standing to the side, looking down at her belly.

“What are you doing?” He asked curiously.

“Look at my stomach,” She said, her hands gently probing her lower abdomen. “It’s bigger. And it’s hard, too. Feel.”

Elias came close and laid his hand on her stomach. It was indeed hardened, as though she had swallowed a large stone, and there was a swelling between her hips; not big, but definitely noticeable.

And perhaps he imagined it, but he thought he felt a strange swirl of energy embedded there underneath the flesh and muscle, lodged deep in her body. No, two swirls. Perhaps Chise’s instinct was more credible than he first thought.

“Hmm,” He said. “Why is that?”

“Angelica says the uterus thickens and becomes more solid to protect the fetuses,” She said, reaching for a book on her nightstand. “It says so in this, too. Alice sent it to me. I told her about the babies, by the way, but I swore her to secrecy. I haven’t told Stella yet, but she’s busy at university and I didn’t want to bother her during finals.”

Elias bent to peer at the book. “What is it?”

She flipped through the rather large paperback volume. “It’s a book about pregnancy and birth. It’s actually pretty informative. So many things make sense now.”

“May I read it, then?” He asked. “There is much I still need to learn. I have a distinct dearth of knowledge about this particular subject and I feel compelled to rectify that.”

“Sure,” she said, handing it to him. “I’ve read up to the third trimester, so I won’t need it for a little while. I hope it helps.”

In some ways it did, and in others it didn’t. During gestation, he learned, the woman’s body produces excess blood to carry extra oxygen to the baby, which in turn causes the mother’s heart rate to accelerate for the duration of the pregnancy, which in turn causes her core temperature to rise. That explained that part, at least.

But other aspects of pregnancy and childbirth were, to put it mildly, horrifying. Things like nosebleeds, strange cravings, extreme mood swings, increased sex drive, swelling of the extremities, sudden hair growth or hair loss, violent fits of vomiting that lasted for months, soreness almost everywhere, food aversions, heighten sensitivity of smell, touch, and taste… the list of physical oddities was extensive. Bones would often be pushed out of the way and change position to compensate for the growing child, sometimes even fracturing or breaking in the process. And all of this was considered normal.

And those were just minor possible symptoms. The more severe ones were downright ghastly. There was no end of ways that it could go wrong, no end to the possible damage to the mother, no end to the ways the child could be born ill or malformed, and that was just for regular, non-magical children. There was no telling what kind of ailments could befall the child of two mages, especially if both parents were cursed.

And the descriptions of the birthing process itself, including the many, many things that could go awry, was nothing short of nauseating. Several times, he had to shut the book and put it aside for a while, appalled at what he learned. He hated to admit it, but sometimes knowledge for knowledge’s sake wasn’t always a good thing.

Once the first physical changes had begun, time seemed to speed up. Chise’s body changed rapidly, her stomach growing larger every day to carry the new life safely. She seemed especially breakable these days, and Elias couldn’t help being even more protective than he had been before.

For years before he had bought Chise, nothing had changed. Things went on as they always had, and it was as comfortable as it was dull. Then, once he met her, things changed, but it was a slow change. Even though things happened that never had before, it came at a pace he could understand and absorb.

Now, everything was new and happening too fast for him to process, and he was trying his best to keep up. He did not adapt well to change.

One afternoon in late July, while Chise was having her afternoon nap, Elias awoke her with a touch to her cheek.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Little Bird,” He said softly. “But there is a guest downstairs who has come a long way to see you. Are you feeling up to greeting them?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

Downstairs, she saw a tallish, pale man standing in their sitting room in modern clothes, looking around the room curiously. His blonde hair was separated into two bunches and hung over his shoulders. The the pupils of his bright blue eyes were slits, like that of a wild predator.

“Lindel!” Chise exclaimed in surprise.

When he saw her enter the room, a wide smile split his face. “It’s good to see you, my daughter,” He said, his arms open toward her.

She rushed forward to give him a hug. “What are you doing here? The dragons--”

“Can survive me being gone for an hour or two. Besides, Merituuli is to inform me right away if anything should happen while I’m here. I haven’t heard from you in a while and I wanted to check on you.” He held her at arms length and looked at her belly. “You’re coming along rather quickly, aren’t you? I sense very strong life essences brewing in there. Your offspring will be incredibly powerful mages. I can’t wait to meet my grandchildren; you must bring them to the aerie once they’ve been born.”

“More than one?” Chise asked.

“Oh, yes,” Lindel replied. “Two separate, distinct energies, hale and healthy, growing well.”

“Ha,” Chise said quietly. “I knew it.”

“Now,” He took her hand and hooked it around his arm. “Why don’t you give me a tour and tell me all about your preparations for the little ones? I’ve never actually been to Thorn’s home, you know. The ungrateful brat has never so much as extended an invitation.”

Elias sniffed slightly and sat in his chair, picking up a book he must have been reading before Lindel arrived.

“Of course,” She said, turning. Silver was looking in shyly from the kitchen, where Ruth was having a snack. “This is Silver Lady. She’s a neighbor who runs the house and looks after us. She’s been a big help to me.”

Lindel bowed. “A pleasure.”

Maybe it was Chise’s imagination, but she could have sworn Silver blushed.

“Good to see you again, Ruth,” Lindel said pleasantly. “Keeping a sharp eye on our favorite girl, are you?”

“Of course,” Ruth said. “She’s been getting plenty of rest, but she’s not eating as much as I’d prefer.”

Chise sighed heavily. “Elias’s fussing is bad enough, but having a fae nanny breathing down my neck all day is really irritating.”

Lindel laughed softly. “I would imagine so.”

Chise showed him her old room upstairs with Ruth trailing behind, where Silver had surprised her one day by converting it into a nursery. Silver, at least, seemed very excited about the new additions to the family and was going to extraordinary lengths to make sure the house was ready for their arrival.

The brand-new cupboards were stacked with blankets and swaddling and dressing gowns and cloth diapers, all handmade by Silver. There were double changing tables and bassinets, set side by side, and even a rocking chair next to the window. Chise had no idea where all the new furniture had even come from. Silver had used neutral colors to decorate the room: a mix of light and dark browns and soft purples and blues. The walls had been painted with a mural of wildflowers and trees, and the floor was plush grass-green carpet, as though the room was outside in a meadow. It was beautiful. Chise had cried and hugged Silver for quite a while when Silver presented it to her.

Ah, mood swings.

Elias had not been prepared for these emotional outbursts and, quite frankly, neither had Chise. She’d go from really happy to really sad to really annoyed all in the span of a few minutes. It was rather dizzying for the both of them. Ruth tried to warn Elias when they were coming, but he couldn’t always tell, so they were often blindsided by a sudden explosion of emotion that even Chise didn’t always understand. He supposed there was some comfort to be found in the fact that she was just as confused as he was.

Chise showed Lindel Elias’s study, and her workroom beyond where she practiced her spellcraft, and then decided to take a break in the garden. Lindel sat with Chise, talking animatedly about the baby dragons and happily eating Silver’s sandwiches and cakes. It was probably a nice change from stew. He even coaxed a song from Chise, one he had taught her in Icelandic about a hungry raven that slept beneath rock rifts. She had missed singing with him.

The sound of their voices raised in song brought Elias out to join them. He hadn’t heard her sing in some time and was pleased to hear it. She only sang when she was in a good mood. The resonance of their voices made the trees stand straighter, the flowers bloom brighter, and the sunlight shine gently upon them without being overpowering. When Lindel and Chise worked together, everything they touched was magic. Elias couldn’t help but be a little jealous of that.

The visit was a splendid one that did much to brighten Chise’s spirit. Before long, Lindel felt the aerie calling his heart home and left Chise with a hug and well-wishes. He even shook Elias’s hand.

Lindel snapped and sparked and was gone in a flurry of snow and cinders. Chise was sorry to see him go. She really felt as though Lindel was a surrogate father. When he called her his daughter, there had been weight to it. He genuinely meant it.

Chise made to go inside, but Elias took her by the hand to stop her, looking off into the woods.

“I believe we may have further visitors,” He said, taking his veil and flinging it over his face. He pointed to the treeline.

There, almost invisible under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, stood a fae woman of indescribable beauty. Her black hair trailed behind her and brushed the ground as she walked, and her skin was as smooth as the petals of a lily. Her eyes, the colors of which shifted as though iridescent, were locked on Chise from where she stood motionless in the shadow. How long she had been there, no one could say, but her attention was on Chise and nothing else.

“Lady Titania,” Chise breathed.

As though summoned, Titania stepped out of the shelter of trees and began to walk toward them. Spriggan stepped out of her shadow, the gold rings adorning his staff jingling as he walked. He looked as surly as ever.

“My dear, sweet robin,” Titania said, holding her arms out to Chise and she stepped forward. “Oh! Isn’t it so wonderful!”

“I assume the little folk have informed you of Chise’s condition,” Elias said.

“Oh,yes, my child. I can’t tell you how pleased I am! Oberon is beside himself.” She glanced back to the forest’s edge. Chise and Elias followed her gaze to see Oberon running to and fro, giggling like a child and throwing flowers into the air. Chise laughed softly and shook her head.

Titania returned her attention to Chise and touched her hand to Chise’s belly. “Look how far along you are! I must say, though, I am terribly put out that you hid it from us for so long.”

“I’m sorry,” Chise said. “I… it’s been… difficult.”

Titania took her face in her hands. “Poor child,” She said. “Do not despair. This is a blessing. What a wondrous gift it is to be mortal. The fae do not breed well with each other and as such, our children are rare. That’s why there are so many old tales among mortals about halflings, though such things are far less likely in this millenia.” Her gaze brushed across Elias’s tall form briefly. “I suppose it’s how your race proliferates so effectively. You’re like rabbits, in that way.” She giggled.

“Oh, what a wonderful turn of fate!” Oberon crooned gleefully, skipping around the group of them. “I can’t wait to see the new little mages. Is there any chance at all they’ll be blonde? Oh, nevermind, they’ll be adorable either way!”

“Titania,” Elias started, ignoring Oberon as he pranced around them, laying a flower crown on Chise’s head. “You have the gift of foresight. Can you…” He paused, clutching the fabric of his shirt over his chest, as though in pain. “Is there any way to tell… that is to say…” He stumbled to a stop.

“Elias,” Titania said kindly. “Ask your question plainly, and I shall answer as best as I can.”

Elias sighed. “The children… our children… will they be… like me? Half-creatures, hated and shunned for the sin of merely being alive in a world where they do not belong?”

Chise’s heart bled for him. It must have quite a blow to his pride to ask that question. She knew he’d never admit it to anyone, not even her, but the constant reminder that he was neither one or the other was something that caused him perpetual grief. The idea that he was terrified his own children would share this fate made Chise’s heart ache. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it consolingly.

“Oh, Thorn,” Titania said sadly. “I see branches; roads that split and diverge like serpents in the sea of potentiality. I see many possibilities, though some are more likely than others. I cannot give you a solid answer because the paths are still many and multiplying. I cannot tell you for certain what will be.” She laid a hand on his chest and smiled. “But would you like to know what I feel?”

He nodded, apprehensive.

“I feel love and joy,” She said. “I hear laughter echoing within the walls of this dwelling. Your children will have fragments of their father residing in them, as all children do, but they will have the protection and favor of all who love them. And there will be many who love them. They are blessed by the Queen of the Fae herself, and my blessing is no paltry trinket.”

“Titania, I…” Elias said, unable to continue.

Oberon slid over to his wife and winked at her, a wide smile on his face. He then turned to Elias.

“Do not fret, thorn child,” He said. “However tainted your lineage may be, you are still one of us, and your bride is beloved by our kind. Your children, then, will be doubly revered by all fae. You have no cause to worry.”

“Thank you. That is… very comforting,” He replied, though his tone said to Chise that he was still rather troubled.

Chise endured another few minutes of Titania and Oberon’s doting before they decided to depart. She felt rather relieved when they left. They could be a lot to handle all at once.

That night, lying in bed with Elias, the question he had asked the Faerie Queen revolved over and over in her mind.

“Elias?” She asked softly, trying not to wake Ruth. “Are you still awake?”

She couldn’t see his pupils, but he did answer. “Yes.”

She lay her hand on the back of his neck and stroked it. “Are you really worried about how the children will turn out?”

Elias sighed. “It does not matter to me what they will look like,” He said somberly. “But it will matter to humans. Experience has taught me well that mankind does not adapt quickly to things that are strange or unusual.” He turned his head to look at her. “The fae will not care about their appearance, either, but they will see them as my children, spawn of the halfling failure. That alone may be enough to draw the ire of the fae against them, despite what Titania and Oberon said. Those two have never failed in their kindness to me, but it is borne out of pity, not respect, and the rest of the fae are not so magnanimous. Some are indifferent to me, but most, like the Spriggan, are openly hostile. I do not wish for my children to suffer because of who their father is.”

“Oh, Elias,” Chise said, holding him close. “I wish I could--Oh!” Chise sat up abruptly, pulling the covers down and placing both hands on her belly.

“What?” He asked in alarm, turning to sit up. “What is it? Are you alright?”

“I felt them.”

“You did?” He asked.

“Yes,” She said, moving her hands around gingerly. “I felt a thumping on the inside. I felt some flutters before, but I was never sure what they were. That was definitely a kick.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at her abdomen.

In response, she took his hand and laid it down on her stomach, instructing him to wait. He did so, and it took nearly five minutes, but there was a distinct nudge against his hand.

Chise looked up and smiled at him, but his heart was in his throat. He couldn’t decide if he was excited or panicked. Talking about the baby, seeing her belly expand, making preparations: for some reason, none of that made it feel real. But this did. Feeling the tiny movements of the child on his own skin from the inside of her body was what made it reality to him.

“We should call on Shannon tomorrow,” Chise said. “I’m twenty weeks. It’s about time for a check-up.”

“Y-yes,” He said vaguely. “Of course.”

She took his face in her hands. “Are you all right?”

“I do not know,” He answered honestly. “I am… frightened.”

“I know,” She said. She laid her forehead on his.

They stayed that way for many minutes, their foreheads touching, his hand on her belly, feeling the little jumps and thumps of his children moving about inside. Frightened was not an adequate word for what he felt. He didn’t know if there was a word strong enough.

Time seemed to move very fast for a while, and then suddenly slowed to a snail’s pace. Before they knew it, it was winter. Chise had grown very large, and Shannon expected the babies to come a few days after the new year.

Chise kept to the house exclusively now, since moving was more difficult, not to mention that Elias was highly paranoid about her catching an illness in her condition. She spent much of the time nesting, which is an instinctual habit among mothers-to-be to make sure everything was in its proper place and perfect. Silver had taken care of most of that for her, but it didn’t stop Chise from folding and refolding all of the babies’ linens and making sure things were just so.

As the time for the birth came closer, the atmosphere of the house grew more and more anxious. Chise was rather sick of being pregnant and was ready to be able to stand without assistance and not eat what felt like half her body weight every day. Ruth was restless and impatient. He could feel the time getting closer just as acutely as Chise did.

If Chise was anxious and Ruth was restless, Elias was downright terrified. He spent a lot of time alone in his study, unable to control this emotion. He didn’t want to worry her more than she already was, but he couldn’t push away the awful feeling of dread.

He had slowly grown accustomed to the idea of the children, but not the possibility that they would take after him. The idea that they could be subjected to cruelty and discrimination for simply being his children made his blood run cold. How could he protect them against that kind of hatred? How could he shield them from the animosity of both humans and fae? He could weather it just fine; he was used to it, and some of it was deserved. He had once been a monster, after all. But they would be innocent and guileless. They didn’t deserve to be treated as he had been.

As much as he tried to hide his worry from Chise, he knew she felt it. He could see it on her face when she looked at him sometimes. It wasn’t pity that she showed him, but empathy. If anyone would understand, it would be her, but this was just one thing he couldn’t talk to her about. She always tried to soothe him and tell him things would be fine, but she had no way of knowing that for certain. Blind optimism just didn’t work for him.

Very late on the night before Christmas eve, a sharp yelp of pain woke Elias from sleep. It had been Ruth: he had bounced out of his bed and shot to Chise’s side, immediately switching to his human form. Chise was sitting curled around her stomach, gasping.

“Chise?” Elias asked.

“I think my water broke,” Chise gasped. “I’ve been having contractions, but they weren’t bad until now. We need Shannon.”

“Shannon! Silver!” Elias called.

A flash shot through the room. Elias turned on the lamp and found Shannon standing next to Chise, trying to pull her to her feet. The silky came through the door in an instant, a tub of hot water and many towels in her hands. It was almost as if she were waiting for the call.

Shannon had Chise sit on a wooden chair with a curved back, urging her to recline with her pelvis tilted out, putting a pillow behind her to support her back. Silver helped Chise out of her underwear and flipped the hem of her nightgown up over her stomach, exposing her entire lower half. Chise didn’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about her tender bits out for the entire room to see. The pain was pushing everything else out of her brain.

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” Ruth gasped, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

“There are two living creatures the size of watermelons attempting to tear their way out of her body, Ruth. Yeah, it’s gonna hurt,” Shannon said dryly.

“Sorry, Ruth,” Chise said, breathing heavily. “I’m trying to block it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ruth said. “I don’t really care about me right now.”

“What can I do?” Elias asked anxiously.

“You and Ruth, get on either side. Both of you hold her hand with one of yours and then let her use your other hand to brace her feet on. She’s going to need the leverage when she starts pushing.”

Elias and Ruth, took their positions. Chise had already begun to sweat profusely and was breathing shallowly. Silver stood at her head, stroking her hair gently and ready with a cloth to wipe her brow.

“Deep breaths, Chise,” Shannon said, kneeling on the ground and pushing a gloved hand into Chise’s body to gauge her dilation. “Nine centimeters,” Shannon said, removing her hand. “Not quiet ready yet, but it’s going to be soon.”

Chise could only nod, attempting with little success to take deep breaths as she was instructed. Her head rolled to look at Elias with fear in her eyes.

“It’s too early,” She said in a terrified whisper. “I’m not due for another three weeks.”

“It’s all right,” Elias whispered, knowing he might be lying. “It will be all right.”

Chise had no choice but to wait until her body opened up enough to start pushing, and it took a few long, miserable hours of pain and sweating. By the time Shannon got into position, it was only an hour before dawn.

“Okay,” Shannon said. “Elias, Ruth, take one foot each and push it toward her chest, but not forcefully. Chise, take several deep breaths. When I say, take a very deep breath, hold it, and start pushing. When I count to ten, you can let go and breath again. Understand?”

Chise nodded, already very tired from the waves of pain she had been suffering over the past few hours. She steeled herself and began to take slow, deep breaths.

“Ready? Okay, deep, deep breath and push!”

Chise pulled in as much air as her lungs could take and held it, bracing her legs against Ruth and Elias’s grip, and pushed with all her might, her face pulled back in a grimace of pain and exertion.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten, and breathe,” Shannon instructed. Chise blew out her breath explosively and gulped in air.

“Okay, again. Deep breath, and push!”

It went on like this for quite a time. They only paused the pushing for Chise to drink water and for Silver to wipe the sweat from her face and neck. Elias talked in Chise’s ear during these brief moments of rest, telling her that she was strong and that he had faith in her. She seemed so tired, but she smiled at him and dotted a kiss on his nose in reply.

Finally, as the first rays of sunlight shone through the window, Shannon pulled a small, reddish-purple infant from Chise’s body. It shrieked as it took it’s first breaths of life, it’s color changing as it took in oxygen. Shannon placed the sticky ball of outrage on Chise’s chest for a moment, allowing the new mother to inspect the little creature for herself while Shannon detached the umbilical cord.

“It’s a baby girl,” Shannon said, smiling.

Chise let go of Ruth and Elias and wrapped her fingers around the tiny thing as it screamed it’s fury at them all. Chise was crying, too, but not in anger. Her face, red and sweaty though it was, lit with joy as she held her newborn daughter.

Suddenly, she seized up with a sudden contraction and hissed with pain. The baby was whisked out of her arms by Silver, who took it to a nearby dressing table to clean it.

“We’re halfway there,” Shannon said. “Let’s get ready. On the next contraction, we start the pushing again.”

Chise nodded, letting Ruth and Elias take hold of her feet and push them back.

Once the first baby was out, the second wasn’t far behind. It wailed more loudly than it’s twin, thrashing about angrily on Chise’s chest, though Chise clearly didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s another little girl,” Shannon said with a grin.

Tears poured from Chise’s eyes as she held her daughter, gasping from the effort of pushing. The touch of her mother’s hands had calmed the baby and she was no longer writhing spastically, but wiggling and making little grunting sounds, lying on her belly in Chise’s grasp.

After a moment, this child, too, was taken away for cleaning. Then there was more work to be done. The afterbirth had to be removed from Chise’s body, which caused a small fountain of blood to escape. Elias and Ruth panicked, but Shannon said this could happen sometimes and it wasn’t serious as long as it was contained quickly. She gave Chise a tea that would help stop the bleeding and once she had finished it, Silver lifted Chise as if she weighed nothing and took her to the bathroom for a proper cleaning. Shannon followed, leaving Ruth and Elias alone with the newborns, lying side by side and safely bundled up in the crib near Chise’s side of the bed.

While she was gone, Ruth went to inspect the babies up close. “Elias,” He called to the mage, who was still sitting in a daze. “Come and see.”

Elias stood with his heart pounding in his chest and walked to stand by Ruth, looking down at his brand new daughters with a lump in his throat. Now that they were cleaned, he could see them better. They were still wiggly and wrinkly, but there were distinct differences between the twins. One had a full head of white-blonde hair and a peachy-pink complexion, while the other had fine red fuzz on her head and was as pale as bleached bone.

“I remember the day that Isabelle was born,” Ruth said solemnly, lost in his memory. “I had only been with the family for a few months and I didn’t quite understand what was happening at the time. I didn’t know what a baby was. She was so tiny and weird-looking, but I loved her right away. We were together all the time after that. I existed for her; I’d have done anything for her.”

He stared down at the two sleeping infants, his eyes dark with recollection. “I took it for granted, thinking she’d always be there. I didn’t see the dangers until it was too late. I should have done more to protect her. If I had been a better brother, she might have lived a long, happy life. I didn’t do enough, and she died.” He reached out but stopped just short of touching the one with red hair. “For them, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I promise.”

Elias did not respond. He stared down at his sleeping girls rather blankly.

Yes, He thought to himself. I, too, must be better.

Silver and Shannon returned with Chise, clean, wearing a fresh nightgown, and remarkably able to walk unassisted. Elias helped ease her back into the freshly changed bed, then Shannon handed Chise the white-haired baby girl. Shannon insisted that Chise try to breastfeed the baby, as it would help promote clotting. Silver went to work cleaning the gory aftermath off of the floor. Ruth, as a grim, sniffed each child keenly with his tail wagging.

It took a few tries and some urging to get the baby to latch to her breast; apparently babies weren’t born knowing how to do this and had to be taught, but once she found her way, she seemed to be content and fell asleep while feeding, her tiny arm resting on Chise’s skin. Elias watched curiously.

“You probably won’t be able to produce enough milk to fill both babies at the same time, so you might want to supplement with formula. You may even decide to go formula exclusively, which is fine. As long as they get the enzymes from your breastmilk at the start, it’ll be a big boost to their immune systems.”

Chise nodded without looking up, absorbed in the tiny little girl at her breast with it’s little fist around Chise’s finger. She seemed to finish quickly, and Chise lifted the baby for Elias to hold.

“Chise…” He said nervously. “I don’t… I can’t… I don’t think…”

“It’s okay, Elias,” Chise said with a smile. “You’re going to have to hold them at some point. Might as well be now.”

“Just remember to support the head,” Shannon said. “The neck muscles are underdeveloped.”

“Here,” She sat up and, holding the baby in one arm, used her hand to make a cradle of his. “Like this.”

Exercising more care than he ever had in his entire existence, he took the tiny bundle into his arms, cradling it gently. He could feel the warmth of it’s little body through the blankets, as though he were holding a glowing coal. He lifted her up so he could inspect her more closely. As he did so, she opened her eyes for the first time and looked up at him. Her eyes were the color of evergreens, like her mother. But unlike her, the pupils were not round but slits, like that of a wild creature. The eyes of a fae. The eyes of a mage.

“Chise, look,” Elias said, bending to show her. Chise, who had taken the red-haired babe and was feeding her from the other breast, peered at the child Elias held and smiled. Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed curiously.

“What is it?” Elias asked.

“Look at her head, a little bit above the hairline. There’s a bump. No, there’s two, one on either side. Do you see them?”

Elias brought the baby close to his face, examining her closely. There was, indeed, some sort of bump there. Carefully readjusting his grip, he felt the bumps with his finger. They felt like… bone? No, not bone…

“Horns,” Elias said softly. “She has horns.”

Chise laughed softly, her eyes warm with affection. “You certainly can’t deny she’s yours, can you?”

He looked down at her, a new warmth spreading though his chest. “No…” He said. “I cannot.”

“Have you decided on names?” Shannon asked, sitting on the other side, monitoring the mother and her little ones closely.

Elias was taken aback. It wasn’t something he had even thought about. He’d been so preoccupied with his doubts and fears that he hadn’t room to think of anything else.

“It is Christmas Eve,” Chise said, looking out of the snow covered windows. She looked at the little redhead, sleeping peacefully in her arms. “Her hair reminds me of holly berries, so why don’t we call her Holly?” She smiled and gazed at the white-haired child Elias clutched to him. “And with her green eyes, she should be named Ivy.”

Elias sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, bending to nuzzle her head.

“Yes,” He said fondly. “It’s perfect.”

After both parents had a turn holding both of their infant girls, they gave Silver and Ruth a chance. Ruth was anxious and attentive, fearful of being clumsy or accidentally jostling his new nieces and upsetting them, but Silver seemed overjoyed to hold the tiny babes, smiling brightly and giggling at their noises. A better nanny than Silver Lady could not be found anywhere, either in the mortal realm or the kingdom of the fae. Chise had a feeling she was going to be relying heavily on her for the next few months.

While holding Holly, Silver made a small noise of surprise.

“Silver?” Chise said. “What is it?”

Silver brought the baby to the bed and knelt down between Elias and Chise, where the parents could see the newborn’s eyes. The irises were solid black and didn’t reflect light, instead seeming to consume it. The pupils, however, were red. Not the bright holly red of her hair, but a dark crimson red, like blood on snow, and they too were mere slits.

“Oh,” Chise breathed. “Look at that. Aren’t they beautiful?”

Elias, seeing the trace his own eyes looking back at him from his daughter’s face, was at a loss for words.

His children were mostly human, it seemed, but they retained a piece of him, a fragment of his fae blood, just as Titania said. Before, this thought made him worry about their future, but seeing them now, he felt… what was this? It was a good feeling, but it carried weight with it. Pride? Was that it? Did he feel proud? Perhaps so.

After a while, Shannon insists that everyone leave the room to the new parents and their children, and Elias settled himself in a chair beside the bed, with Chise on his left side and the crib on the right. All three of his girls were sleeping peacefully. Ivy seemed content in being wrapped up in her swaddling, but Holly had kicked her way out of the blankets so that she could move freely.

He watched them sleep with mixed emotions, laying his hands on the stomachs of the babes, comforted by their warmth. As if waiting for this, they both reached out and gripped his fingers in their fists and held on with a surprisingly strong grip.

The world could have been falling down around them, but as long as they were safe and happy, it wouldn’t have bothered him. He found he didn’t care all that much at the moment about the concerns that had plagued him before the birth, though he knew they would come back eventually. He felt warm and calm, with none of the anxiety that had been gnawing at his mind for months. Was this feeling happiness? Peace?

He could identify at least one emotion well enough: love. It was different than what he felt for Chise, but no less consuming. Chains of gold and silver had wrapped themselves around his heart. They sprung from the touch of his tiny daughters’ small hands on his own, an unbreakable link that bound him to his newly-born flesh and blood. Instinct drove this behavior, and it was obvious what it meant. They had laid claim to him.

They do not belong to me, he realized. I belong to them. How fascinating.

He had lived for centuries never having tethered himself to any other being. Back then, loneliness and being alone were mutually exclusive concepts. He’d had friendships and acquaintances but felt no obligation to any of them beyond an occasional favor or trade. At the time, he had thought himself content.

When he had acquired Chise on a whim out of mere curiosity, he had not anticipated how his life would change. The connection that developed between them, as slow as it was to manifest openly, was unlike anything he’d felt before. It brought with it many good feelings, as well as many unpleasant ones. Chise’s love was easy enough to earn, but he soon discovered that while love could be unconditional, trust was not. He hadn’t known there was a difference between those emotions until he had betrayed them.

For a while after, their bond was fragile and could snap with any slight pressure he applied to it. It had taken much time and effort on his part to repair the damage he had done, and he had sworn never to do anything that could sever that link again.

But the bond he felt to these two new lives was instantaneous and indestructible, something over which he had no control. He was, for lack of a better term, spellbound.

“I don’t understand.”

Elias jumped slightly at Chise’s soft whisper. He looked over to see that she was awake and staring are her children.

“What is it you do not understand, Little Bird?” Elias replied quietly.

“I thought,” She said. “I thought when they were born, it would make more sense, but it doesn’t. I thought it would help me understand why they did it.”

“Your parents,” He said. It wasn’t a question.

“I thought that once I was a parent myself, I could see it from their perspective, and I’d understand. But I don’t. I would never, ever leave them. I could never hurt them. Never.” She looked at Elias and took his hand. “What they did still makes no sense to me. I guess you were right, Elias. I am different.”

“Yes,” He said, holding her hand to his cheek. “Do not be sad, Chise. That is a wonderful thing.”

She smiled, and her gaze returned to the infants. “You’re right. It is.”

During the first two months, which Chise and Elias used to get accustomed to the new routine of parenthood, the twins developed personalities that were as different as their appearance. Holly was an independent little thing and didn’t like to be swaddled or held for too long, while Ivy loved to be cuddled and preferred to be held by Elias over anyone else. He was more than happy to hold her at all times and soon became deft at doing things one-handed.

After this necessary adjustment time, they decided to have a small gathering of friends over to properly introduce their children. They had invited Stella, the Barley family, Alice, a few friends from the college including the brooding Adolf and enthusiastic Tori, and even Renfred. Over the years, Elias and Renfred had forged a tense acquaintanceship. Chise encouraged them to be better friends, but in the end, she figured anything was better than open hostility.

They had invited Lindel, too, but he didn’t want to leave the aerie again. He insisted they bring them to him instead, which they promised to do when the children were a few months older.

“Aren’t they darling?” Angelica said, looking at Holly sleeping in sixteen-year-old Althea’s arms.

“They really are,” Stella said, now nineteen, as she tickling Ivy’s feet while David held her. The baby cooed at Stella as she did so.

“Ya did good, Chise,” Alice said. “You cooked up some real nice babies in there.” She poked Chise’s stomach, which was now much smaller and thankfully no longer sore.

“That’s a weird phrase, Alice, thank you,” Chise said.

Renfred had been mostly quiet during the gathering. Alice had told Chise that babies make him nervous; he liked kids better when they were old enough to follow orders.

Elias was similarly uncomfortable with so many people in his house at once, and eventually, it drove him outside to the garden. Cold though it was, he sat at the garden table with his tea and sighed.

“Are they not lovely?” A voice said to him from his right. He turned to see a small, child-like figure standing there nearby. She wore a simple white gown made of thin silk and a crown of baby’s breath around her head. A circle of snow underneath her feet had melted away and flowers had sprung up all around her. Her hair was black, her skin like petals, her eyes like the wings of a dragonfly.

“Titania,” Elias said, standing. “You’ve come alone.”

“I have, though I shan’t be long,” She said, her voice belying her youthful appearance. “I bring with me gifts for your little ones.”

“Gifts?”

“Yes. The heartache you expressed when last we met has stayed with me. I felt compelled to do something to set your mind at ease.” She opened her hands, and lying in each palm was a ring carved of dark wood, one on a gold string, the other on a silver one. “I told you your offspring held my favor, did I not?” She asked. “That was not a lie. You need not worry for their safety from our kind. These will tell all fae creatures that your babes are my godchildren and therefore under my protection.”

Elias did not recall agreeing to such an arrangement, but accepted the rings with a bow.

“Thank you, my Lady,” He said. “This is most generous.”

“You must bring them to visit us, Thorn,” Titania said. “It’s been so long since there were children in the Faerie Kingdom. Oberon is dying to meet the new magelings.”

Elias nodded without speaking, not committing to this. He wondered if her favor extended to not trapping them in the faerie realm.

“Be well, Elias. Take care of our sweet robin and those beautiful children. Dwell no longer on the darkness in your past and look instead to your future. Your legacy now resides in those new souls that you created, and not the mistakes you have made. You have been given a divine gift. Do not take it for granted.”

“I assure you, Lady,” He said seriously. “I have no intention of doing so.”

She smiled at him, and the body she inhabited burst apart into flowers and floated away like the seeds of a dandelion, carried away on a sudden wind that smelled strangely of spring grass.

Elias lifted his gaze to watch the petals drift away, putting the charms in his pocket.

Once everyone had gone home and the house was quiet again, Elias picked up a wailing Ivy, who quieted immediately, and sat with Ruth and Chise as Silver laid out their dinner. Chise fed Holly with one arm and fed herself with the other. Once Holly finished, Chise passed her to Ruth to be burped and held out her arms for Ivy, who Elias passed carefully over the dinner table. Silver waited at Ruth’s elbow with a spit-up cloth. They all seemed to be easing into this new normal well.

Elias and Chise took the children to their room and laid them down for sleep, with Ruth curled up on the floor between them. He was better than a baby monitor. Ruth was taking his oath to Elias to protect the children very seriously and was just as involved in their care as every other person in the house. It seemed there was no shortage of babysitters to be found for the new parents, and Chise found that comforting. The nightmare she’d once had of being overwhelmed with caring for two children at once with limited help faded from her mind.

With the children abed for a least a couple of hours, Elias and Chise took this time to spend with each other, something they hadn’t had much opportunity to do since the birth. They sat together on the couch of the sitting room, Chise in Elias’s lap and wrapped up warmly in his arms. She was so tired, she could have fallen asleep if she let herself.

“I’m sorry the party got too claustrophobic for you,” Chise said, twining and untwining her fingers with his.

“It’s all right,” Elias said. “I am actually glad for it. I’d much prefer that the girls were introduced to all our friends at once rather than make many trips to achieve the same result.” Reaching into his waistcoat’s pocket, he pulled out the ring pendants he had gotten. “Besides, while outside, Titania left a give with me.”

Chise took the trinkets and looked at them curiously. “That was nice of her. What are they for?”

“Protection, she said. It’ll ward off any of her kind that would do them mischief.”

Chise smiled. “She’s very thoughtful for a fae.”

“Yes,” Elias agreed. “I wonder if she will extend the same blessing to any additional children we may have.”

Chise swung and looked up in surprise. “You want more children?”

“It's not outside the realm of possibility. We can talk about it later,” Elias replied.

“You're serious. You really want another baby?”

“I merely said we’d talk about it.”

“That’s not a no.”

Elias laughed.

“Give me a year, at least,” Chise said in exasperation. “My body isn’t ready for another one so soon.”

“If you wish,” He said, hugging her tightly.

They sat happily in each other’s arms for the next hour, taking a well deserved rest, until one of the babies began to cry. Elias released her and followed her up the stairs to the childrens' room, where he consoled Holly as Ivy fed. When Ivy was done, they switched. After feeding, the infants resumed sleeping. Before they left, Elias affixed the charms to the wall above their bassinets, the silver one over Ivy, and the gold protecting Holly. The parents, exhausted, climbed into their own bed and fell asleep at once.

Every day brought something new, and Elias was learning so much so quickly. His entire universe had shifted, and thought it had taken time to get used to it, he greeted each wonderful development as they happened with an open heart. He awoke eagerly every morning in his new life, looking forward to what might be.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[salarta]

I just made a post about Giant Size Zine, but in the process I decided I'm ready to do something I’ve been thinking about for a while: post some pictures of my actual offline collection tied to Polaris!

First, the highlight: my copy of X-Men #49!

It’s not in perfect condition, obviously. Yet even in this condition, I was incredibly fortunate to meet someone who was willing to sell it at a price I could afford at the time.

Next, a few collectibles.

Not pictured: my copy of Lego Marvel Super Heroes (having trouble finding it), and the Super Hero Squad figurine for Lorna.

Women of Marvel there is a calendar I bought solely cause Lorna was included in it. I’ve never even opened it. I just wanted to buy it for Lorna.

I’m not a big collectibles person. The only thing I’ve bought collectibles for besides Lorna was Final Fantasy IV, for which I imported tons of stuff.

I don’t count collector’s editions of video games. If I get those, it’s usually either cause I feel the price isn’t too much, or I really support what it’s doing (e.g. Wolfenstein II).

Now for a bit of where my fandom started!

I’ll retell the tale. I discovered Polaris by happy accident when link-hopping around the Marvel wikia. After I found her, I immediately went out to a nearby comic book shop for the sole purpose of buying stuff with Lorna in it. I grabbed anything I saw with her on the cover, because at that point, I had no concept of what depictions of her were good, bad, whatever. I just wanted to read her.

I honestly don’t remember when or how Jeff Parker’s Exiles volume came into my hands. Maybe I bought it at the shop. Maybe I got it later. Maybe I knew some titles in advance before I went, or maybe I thumbed through to see if this random green-haired woman was Lorna before I picked it up.

In any case, these were among the first things I read with her in them.

Next, progress!

I bought every issue of All-New X-Factor. I could swear I bought two copies of ANXF #14, but I can’t find my second copy.

I vaguely remember what happened surrounding X-Factor #243. At the time, I wasn’t reading X-Factor. I expected the worst from Peter David before I gave him a fair shot, so I didn’t want to give him any money. When X-Factor #243 came around, though, I... still expected the worst. So I didn’t preorder. But it did grab my attention.

When it came out, and people spoke well of it, and I saw pages and panels to back it up, I went out and bought a copy. I would’ve bought two, but it was the last copy. I know because I talked with the shop owner about getting a second copy. That convo led to finding out there was a lot more interest than usual, and maybe Marvel would put out more copies with a variant cover because of it.

Never happened, because Marvel doesn’t have the kind of respect toward Lorna needed for such a thing to happen. But I held out hope for such a thing back then.

I gots one last picture.

When Secret Wars hit with some version of Lorna in multiple places, I started buying double copies to really show my support for more Lorna. The cost for these right here alone is $24, and it’s not all I bought. I bought all of SW:HoM, all of the final Magneto arc, and stuff like Star-Lord and Kitty Pryde too. In most cases, I also bought digital out of pocket. Meaning I basically bought three copies of the same book just cause Lorna was in it.

Then Marvel put Lorna into forced limbo for two years. That ended me going out to buy physical copies of comics.

I saw no reason to do it because first I figured any appearance she had would be a minor cameo. Something so they could say they technically used her before sending her into forced limbo again.

Then she settled on Blue, but I didn’t want to go out and buy physical yet because of how she was treated in Blue #8 and #9. I wanted to see improvement before I went and did it. Improvement never really came. Either it would be far too little to justify going to buy physical, or it would be undermined by Bunn putting Havok on a pedestal and making any progress for her into just a footnote or a boost for Havok’s story.

I have more comics featuring Lorna since 2009, but these are the highlights for me. 

[octranslations]

Haiiro no Ginka Volume 42

Haiiro no Ginka Volume 42 March 2009

Translation Credits:

Gansonaki Kaoru-ya - Nao Toshiya Aibiki no Mori - Risu Shinya Dr. Nemunemu no daigyakushi - Nao Die Meisho de meishu - Nao Mu no Koufuku, Sanretsusha to Kubi - Nao

Gansonaki Kaoru-ya

Is everyone doing great (genki)? It's me Kaoru who is doing great.

England's KERRANG! Tour is done. I am writing this after the live in Saitama, the first day of TOUR09 FEAST OF V SENSES. I have read all the mail that I received from Osaka-jo Hall and Namba Hatch. When I read everyone's feeling about UROBOROS, their expectation of the Osaka-jo Hall and the feeling after the Osaka-jo Hall, I felt a bit really touched. It's probably age. (Laughs). But a good age.

Osaka-jo hall was the best! I am sorry that it's loaded with much reflection but it was a great time. I saw a lot from people who were able to tell me that they were able to feel UROBOROS and enjoy it, it really made me happy. I was able to tell various magazines about my state of mind but I am really a happy person! To think there are so many great people exist! Recently, I am just always giving thanks but, Honma Arigatou! (REALLY THANK YOU!) Now I really want to make you guys see an even greater greater scene kind of live that I can think of.

Also, we will go to places we've never been and we will go to the places whose people who have have never seen us before, the Livehouse Tour has begun. In Livehouses, the microphone wires are few, (the drums are many so we can take a few...) which is why acoustic guitar songs and there are some songs that we can't play but this the only tour where you can taste this!

Also the dude limited live, you're men so it's okay to have some injuries right? The one we had few years ago was so quiet but this time you're guys so let me see your fighting spirit!

For this year, if we are able to carry out all the planned out things right now, we will make a really boastful number of lives, until we can still go for it, we go!

In the feeling of battle of 2009 to one's heart's content(rocking) DIR EN GREY, give me a big rampage! I am expecting it! Until you can do it, do it!

See you!

To the people in London who may see this, we will return so wait for it!

Toshiya Aibiki no Mori

What's up!? The previous article had such good reviews so for this time I will write the sequel (laughs). Here it is!

I think this was also posted on Boo-san's (VJ Boo) blog, but this is our bus during the US tour. This brings back old memories...

At the rehearsal studio, the day before the tour,  Mr. Shinya and I through the mirror. I think this mirror was in Mr. KAORU's previous page.

We went to UNIVERSAL STUDIOS in ORLANDO.

The weather was also nice, it was great! First, we went to SPIDER-MAN.

Next we went to JURASSIC PARK. My whole body was drenched wet! But it was fun (laughs).

Then, we went and rode on the Hulk. Making sure that Mr. chicken-kun doesn't run away, The 2 of us, Mr. Die and I, firmly held both of his sides and off we went to a fun journey (laughs). Mr. chicken-kun kept on screaming, "It's not yet over!? Not yet over!?" (laughs).

THE BLUES BROTHERS!? were there, that was hanging there, it was a fun time.

Page2

This is New York! I was happy that Virgin (records) had UROBOROS properly placed!

T-shirt of the band who did the OPENING ACT for the US tour, THE HUMAN ABSTRACT

It's been a long time since I wore an earring. The hole is something that shouldn't be closed.

At Boo-san's (VJ Boo) DJ event, SHELLAC's Akinori, Boo-san and I were...drunk...

At the meeting at Osaka Jo...its Masuda-san like always (laughs).

From the left, charisma hair and makeup, Yamaguchi-san, charisma trainer, Yooko-chan, charisma stylist Omiko (laughs). They are in a good mood?

Atsushi-san the DJ. I am indebted to him even from from before.

Bad adults (laughs)!!

From the left, its Mr. Sakano the crybaby, Mr. Okita of Shinki Music (Manager of the Sales Division), and Mr. Bandou of YOUNG GUITAR

To everyone at VISUAL TRAP. I am always really grateful, we will ensure that we pay by the due date!!

After the live on the 31st I went straight to the hospital. I came down with influenza (flu), and during the live I thought that I was going to die.... Due to the extreme physical activity, the drooling won't stop, because of the fever and the sluggishness my consciousness was fading away. At the hospital I got an IV drip, on the 1st I went back to my parent's home via Nagoya, I was in bed for 5 days and spent the whole New Year in bed... But, I want to praise myself since I think that I worked pretty hard if I do say so myself (laughs).

Well, the end of last year was like this. And at the start of the year is the KERRANG!tour. I don't know if I will do this journal for the next time but that's it for now! Until then!!

Shinya Dr. Nemunemu no daigyakushi

Hello Everyone. Nemunemu's corner will also start today. So, this time I bring you the diary on the November 2008 American Tour. I just appropriately picked out the days when there are things happening. And so here it is.

Nemunemu Diary ~America & Canada collection/volume~

11/4 Today, we are checking our equipment in the rehearsal studio in preparation for the real tour tomorrow. It's the same studio that we went to even during the past American Tour. It's the Myu- jin (place) where Dr.Nemunemu said that he Nia- (did something). I quickly checked my drums but the rototom didn't arrive. So, by car, we had to go to a music store to buy one. There was a rototom and I was able to buy it with no problems but they don't seem to sell adapter for the rototom. So when Dr. Nemunemu had to find something that can replace it inside that store, I found an exact adapter. The item found was attached to a snare drum then, when we asked the storekeeper if we could have the same one, he suddenly said that it's attached to the snare so you would have to buy the snare too. As we were having trouble, "I only need to buy the adapter, why do I have to buy the snare too?!" , a different storekeeper peeked out from the back area came out and handed us the same adapter and that is how I got the adapter in my hands. And at that I was able to do the setting with no problems.

11/6 Today is an off day so we went to Universal Studio. In the midst of going there my other name "chicken" was revived. (Refer to Vol. No. 33) Dr. Nemunemu has never been to Japan's Universal Studio but then, it most likely doesn't have those big rides. So I went there with much confidence. Just then as we arrived and saw the theme park, I suddenly saw big-looking lanes of Rollercoasters. Dr. Nemunemu thought secretly, this one is just impossible. However, I was able to ride the other rides with much confidence/leisure. And as the fun time just continued on, suddenly, the bassist said, "Let's go on 'that' next!". Of course, "THAT" meant the really big ride. I said, "Dr. Nemunemu will stay down here and wait." But the Toshiya & Die Combination were able to make Dr. Nemunemu take the ride by any means. They said, "If you are able to ride that we will never call you chicken again.", they also said, "it's a chance to remove that dirty name chicken". Even at that as Dr. Nemunemu is going to decline, suddenly, the 2 grabbed me up by both of my arms and I was dragged by force and made me get in the line. So while in the line, I tried running away during the unguarded moments but I would get quickly get caught by the two and was stuck in middle and then suddenly, I was on the ride. During the ride it was the most dreadful time. I was thinking that even I was able to ride it, and also even after that, just like before my other name is chicken.

11/9 Today after dinner, I went with Die, Toshiya, Nora, and the tech Kuroo-san, goods seller Jordan, for bowling. When it comes to bowling, Dr. Nemunemu was so into it a few years ago that he was able to write a lot about it at that time (very much like myself) but recently, I haven't played it at all. It can't be helped that I haven't played but we did 2 games and on both Dr. Nemunemu scored the lowest. Well as I said to myself it can't be helped since I haven't played recently,?I suddenly a heard a Japanese prattle from the rear. "Ma-ke-in-u". "Ma-ke-i-nu" (Loser) as I turned around, Jordan faced Dr.Nemunemu and said it. Beside Jordan, the bassist was doing a "I will try and teach you" face and grinned. In a few seconds, my other name is "Makeinu"(Loser).

11/10 Today's live is at Baltimore. When Dr.Nemunemu went in the dressing room, Jordan faced Dr. Nemunemu and said happily, "Mi-ki-inu". Instantly, it was a mistake but Dr. Nemunemu didn't correct him and rather left it at that. Today's first song is OBSCURE. So I came out, sat in my drumset and waited for the SE of OBSCURE to play. And suddenly, Kaoru-kun played the intro of HYDRA-666-. While I was thinking, "Oi, oi, Kaoru-kun it's a different song." I quickly decided that I should just continue drumming HYDRA-666-. But then, I looked at the members as if nothing has changed and we normally performed HYDRA-666-. But the song list placed at Dr.Nemunemu's area was undoubtedly had OBSCURE. Then I thought that "Then,  Dr.Nemunemu's song list must be wrong". While I was drumming, I was doing signals "it's wrong! it's wrong!" to the drum tech Kenji Fujieda but Kenji Fujieda had a dumbfounded face as if to say, "what's wrong?" In summary, I was able to tell him that the song list was wrong and we at least made it the second song. Why is it that Dr. Nemunemu was the only one who had yesterday's setlist?

11/13 Today is an off day in New York and everyone went to Manhattan. While walking in the city, Dr. Nemunemu asked Kenji Fujieda. "What is famous in New York?" "First, it's the Statue of Liberty." "Aah-" "And the World Trade Center Right?" "Aah-" "And the Empire State Building Right?" "Ee?! What's that?!" "He-?! You didn't know? It's the place where King Kong climbed up on." "He--So which place did King Kong climbed up on?" "...." it's Generation Gap. Then, after going around in various shops, we went to Virgin Records to check that UROBOROS was there. After taking a look around the shop and thought about going out, I knew that the Chikurin would come and even intentionally volunteered to watch the Dir Live in New York was coincidentally there also looking at UROBOROS. I knew that he will be here in New York but this is just really coincidental. When we called to him he was so surprised, "Wha? Why are you also here?" he said what I also wanted to say. And then we went out of the store and in the street in front of the shop. Since this morning, we went out separately but somehow coincidentally assembled there with Kuroo-san and then, we went out for food. New York is small.

11/16 Today is Toronto Canada's Live. After the performance, I think there were really good people that were there so when I though of throwing some sticks, I thoughtlessly bumped my head on the speaker that was hung there. It was so dark so I didn't see it. Luckily it was dark and I thought that unless only a few people in front caught me bumping my head. After that, there was the meet and greet, a foreigner who can speak Japanese said, "Shinya-san, Atama wa daijoubu desuka??" ("Shinya-san is your head okay?") At that point, Dr. Nemunemu has completely forgotten about hitting his head. And for a certain period I was thinking, "E?? Do I really look that weird(in the head; nuts)?"

11/23 While Dr. Nemunemu was eating chocolates in the dressing room, the Human Abstract's guitarist Tapley came. Dr. Nemunemu always seems to eat chocolates and Tapley asked him where is his favorite chocolate from? Since, Dr. Nemunemu likes GODIVA, I said GODIVA (go-di-ba). From that, Tapley said that he doesn't know it and asked me where is it from, I really didn't know but it was most probably from Belgium but it's pretty famous, I explained. So he asked me for the spelling, and when I said G.O.D.I.V.A. he said, "Ooh! GODIVA!" (goh-dai-va). So it seems in America the pronunciation of GODIVA is "GO-DAI-VA". So please everyone remember this little trivia (food for thought).

12/3 Today we are going to buy lunch so we went to the nearby fish mart. There was a flood of delicious-looking crabs, shrimps, scallops, and etc. And mixed among those was an angler fish that had a very stern face was placed there. The face looked really scary and I wanted to take a picture of it and went towards it up close. Suddenly, the angler fish was actually going to be moved by the storekeeper behind, it was a candid item, the storekeeper came close and with yelled(bellowed) with a loud voice and made the fish move and Dr. Nemunemu was really surprised (shocked/scared). Then, the almost forgotten other name, chicken, was again revived.

So this was how it was.

HAPPINESS OF NOTHING, THE ASSEMBLED AND [THE] NECK

For oneself, what is really needed? Precious things? How much does one person really understand one's self? How important is it? Actually, for those who look like they haven't noticed It feels as if 'there is a lot'

In everything one does, there is definitely a meaning in every action If you turned around these nonchalant actions and words, that person can feel it inside Do you understand the words that I just wrote and the things that I requested in the previous newsletter?

By all means, I want you to think about it Surely, this is connected to growth as humans

But I wonder if fun things, pleasure and escaping from reality are also good? However, there is surely something more important here But if even one person noticed (for me), isn't there a point as to why I am writing a newsletter?

There are people who would say that it's because I simply didn't want to answer it, but do I look like that kind of person? If you were those kinds of people then you won't write these hassle-some things I think that other people's growth can be whatever but...

Just for the record, all of the previous questions were already answered during the creation of the previous newsletter. Of course on answering, since the previous main purpose of my request will change and I think it will dim(fade) so I sealed up the answers.

But for the meantime instead of using it for leisure, use the time and your head for growth This time too, if I had the time to think about it or the opportunity change it as much as possible This time it seems that my corner has a meaning

January the 18th, 2009 18:30 from England.

Translator's Notes: Kyo was referring a lot to the previous Haiiro no Ginka (Vol. 41) where he presented all the questions that the people sent him with no answers. He was supposed to answer all of it in this Volume

Die Meisho de meishu Question: The chord Am, how many kinds of Am are there? What's different about them? Do you change the places you press when matching it with the song?

Die: For me, the sound of the Am chord has a unique atmosphere that no other minor chord has. You can feel painful loneliness and behind it a warm kindess. From there, what kind of feeling can you feel? Depending on the person who plays Am, when Am is sounded, it plainly pulls out the player's view of life. There is also an Am that is simply musically played with no feeling. Even pressed in that position, it's a simple chord that is not laborious(hard). Although I think that it being a simple chord, it's consequentially entrusted to the player for the chord's deepness. Well, put aside my view of Am, if it's about playing, the same Am's sound does change depending on the position therefore I change the position depending the song's atmosphere and the connecting chords before and after it.

For example ? is what we call the orthodox Am hold. In "Sajou no Uta" with this position you scratch while plucking(strumming) "Jyakajyaka". ? is high-positioned Am. This position is the base phrase for the cutting play of "audrey".

Question: What changes in playing the Electric and Acoustic for Die-san?

Die: With the Acoustic Guitar, the pressing power of your left hand compared to the electric needs more power and the picking nuance of your right hand. Because as a live instrument it brings out the natural sound so surely the way you play an electric changes. And for an electric the sound is distorted and in places where there is more or less a miss(mistake) you can sometimes not get caught. In the acoustic, if you made a mistake, you will immediately get caught. (Laughs) During acoustic guitar recordings, I get to use a number of guitars but each one has it's own definite character. Which is why while feeling the picking and the change of touch of each guitar, each has it's own best point and sound so, I try all the guitars. And if it is the best sounding one then I choose that one.

Question: In "Gaika Chinmoku Nemuru Koro"'s intro part, the tapping phrase you used is so painful yet beautiful but when I first saw it live, I always say too much, "It's like magic...". For me, who has never did tapping, wanted to copy it, but I doesn't really understand it. This time, by all means, please teach me. Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu. (Sorry for the trouble/ inconvenience)

Die: Actually, I thought up this song's intro phrase during the "UROBOROS" recording's very last day, this was really the last of the last recorded phrases. This phrase's, what you call tapping, doesn't use a pick. First, press with your left hand's pointing finger is on the 1st string 10th fret and 2nd string 10th fret, the ring finger(or pinky) is on the 13th fret.

(Continues to the right page)

RED 1: With your right hand's middle finger(or pointing finger) press the 15 fret like hitting it. (Hammering on) WHITE 1: When your right hand's middle finger(pointing finger) hammers on the 2nd string on the 15th fret,

RED 2: On the same string you pull it while letting go (Pulling off), WHITE 2: While still pressing on the string make it slide to the 18th fret. (At the same time, the middle finger of your left hand presses the 11th fret.),

RED 3: In the same manner with the left ring finger, let go while pulling (pulling off), WHITE 3: Pulling Off,

RED 4: With the right hand's middle finger(pointy finger) hammer on the 17th fret. WHITE 4: In the same way, the left middle finger, pulls off.

This is the phrase's basic play using both of your hands, the point is keep the rhythm of the hammering on and pulling off, not to cut the sound midway, and to keep the sound level even.

Well, I feel that I have explained it quite simply. At first, it may confuse your head (confusing) but slowly try to get it to sound one by one, once you get used to it you will be able to play it.

[goffilolo]

Demise of Midoriya Izuku (part 7)

I’m back! sorry it took so long to updat,e however ive seen very busy with school. also this chapter is over twice as long as usual, because its a very intense one, so it took me a very long time to write. hope you dont mind. The chapter is also posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557743/chapters/28807050

“All I’m saying is, next time he comes over we grab a couple of those buckets, fill them with water and drown the bitch into submission!” exclaimed Izuku, while excitedly pointing to the empty buckets in the corridor that were left there by a janitor.

“Izuku, no, just no” said Mrs. Todoroki with the exhaustion of a person who has listened through a hundred and one plans on how to torture her husband.

“You never like any of my plans!” replied Izuku.

“Because they’re not plans, they’re random impulses of vandalism and violent behaviour” she continued “Besides, not that I don’t enjoy your company, but aren’t you supposed meet with piece of shit, or whatever his name was?”

“How did you-”

“It’s a small ward honey. The word gets round quickly” interrupted Mrs. Todoroki while looking pointedly at the four armed nurse, who was currently pretending to be busy writing something in her clipboard and holding the handles of Izuku’s wheelchair.

“Tch, typical” scoffed Izuku.

Now, going back to the topic, YES, he was going to meet ‘piece of shit’ today. The decision was made by his mother who had gone to the Bakugous’ house the previous day and told them about their son’s actions in hopes of resolving the situation (bless her soul) despite the strain it would inevitably put on their friendship. The adults have decided that the best thing to do would be to all go to the hospital and talk things out, to which Izuku’s initial reaction was “not today Satan”, but not much could be done on his side to avoid this trainwreck.

And here he was now, in the common room, killing time with some good old escapism; focusing on all the different ways to torture Mrs. Todoroki’s shitty husband, rather than the ticking clock on the wall above him, mocking him, playing the role of a countdown to the start of what he calls ‘The Bakugou-shitshow’. The sleep deprivation from his meds was definitely not helping.

This was going to be a long fucking day.

“So it’s starting soon, huh? The Bakugou-shitshow” said Shin as he seemingly materialized out of thin air, rubbing his hands in a mischievous manner.

“You’ve read my journal” replied the boy in a cold, flat tone that the doctor hated so much. Honestly, is there no such thing as privacy in this loony bin?

“And you’ve read my medical notes about your case, which may I remind you are for medical staff only” retaliated the doctor, his unwillingness to put up with Izuku’s shit at this point very apparent in his voice. He then turned to the nurse and motioned towards the handles of his patient’s wheelchair “Do you mind if I borrow this little gremlin for a second?”

“Fuck you!” interrupted Izuku.

“See? A little gremlin right here” sneered Shin.

He then grabbed the handles and wordlessly started to wheel Izuku out of the common room in the direction of his office as Mrs. Todoroki and the nurse waved them goodbye.

“So, you’re seeing Bakugou today, aren’t you?”

“Yep”

“Are you mentally ready for it?”

“Fuck no!”

“Thought so, which is why we’re going to have a little chat now” said the doctor as he reached their destination.

Once inside the confines of Shin’s office, the doctor has dropped his cheeky facade in favour of the more uncommon, nevertheless much needed; that of a professional.

“Tell me Izuku, how do you feel about meeting Bakugou?” asked Shin, hoping to go straight to the topic, but leaving the question open enough for his patient.

“I-it’s a lot of-” started Izuku, not yet knowing how to articulate all of the complex feelings swirling together in his psyche, into some sort of a coherent answer “-uugh!” he finished, voice full of helplessness, his posture speaking “I don’t know”, which is still more than he managed to say out loud.

“Okay, that’s...something” replied the doctor, a bit disappointed in the lack of coherent response.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, a lot. Honestly, I don’t know what to expect. He has way too much pride to apologise, although our parents will be there so he’ll probably try to behave more decent with them around. But even if he does apologise, do I want to hear it? Is it going to change anything?” asked Izuku, not expecting an answer.

“You know, my dream of being a hero is dead, and I’m alright with that. I felt like I was on a good path of making peace with myself about that fact, like one day I could look back on it and think fondly of it as in ‘oh, every kid wanted to be a hero and save people’ and not be bitter about it-” continued the boy, his fists clenched, the frustration in his voice growing every second, like a volcano, waiting to erupt “-but he ruined it for me” he spat, full of venom.

“In what way did he ruin it for you?” prompted the doctor.

“To me a hero was someone who could always save everyone, someone who could always make you feel relief upon their arrival no matter how bad the situation was. And Kacchan, he’s-he’s anything BUT that. Having to see him will just remind me of this dream, of all the heroic qualities I aspired for and couldn’t reach, and how someone like HIM, who only knows how to hurt others will be able to reach that dream and ruin it! HE WILL TAKE EVERYTHING IT TAKES TO BE A HERO AND RUIN IT!” screamed Izuku, breathing labored as he became overtaken by his frustration and helplessness.

The doctor did not grace Izuku’s outburst with much of a reaction beyond widening his eyes ever so slightly before looking back down to write some notes, already used to such behaviour on his patient’s part. It tells him a lot about the boy’s repressed rage, caused by what he suspects is a mix of admiration, envy and rather justifiable bitterness, which Izuku himself seems to be in denial of.

Speaking of, as the boy slowly regained his breath his face morphed into one full of fear rather than anger as he became aware of is surroundings, the laughing clock, and the inevitable Bakugou-shitshow that’s just around the corner.

“I-I, wh-what would I even say to him when I see him?!” asked Izuku, eyes full of panic.

“I think everything you said just now” replied Shin.

He then stood up from his chair and started to wheel Izuku out of his office, in the direction of his hospital room, the atmosphere between them clear from any traces of Izuku’s outburst.

“Do you want me to be in the room with you for moral support? Or do you want me to wait outside?”

“I think I want you to be there with me”

“That’s fine then. Let’s get this shitshow started”

“Hey! That’s my line”

Soon they have found themselves back in Izuku’s room, who was hoisted up back onto the bed with the help of one of the nurses, his leg elevated like when he first woke up. Shin was keeping himself busy in the corner by reading through Izuku’s hero notebooks, his face solemn, but eyes full of wonder. It was a face Izuku has never seen before, but he wasn’t going to ask about it now, not when the peace within the room was nothing more than a bubble, ready to burst any minute.

Just because he was expecting it did not mean he was prepared, so when the door opened Izuku’s attention was drawn instantly.

Izuku looked like shit, he knew that much. The bags under his eyes told the tales of sleepless nights spent on nothing but staring at the piles upon piles of notebooks, never to be read again. His hair was a mess, like a bird’s nest, nothing unusual, except it was longer, the extra length swirling at the sides, on his face; the proof on an inevitable passage of time. Has it really been a month?

Well, here goes nothing.

He looked like shit, and he wasn’t going to pretend any different. He didn’t know what to expect when Kacchan made an entrance, but it certainly wasn’t for his childhood friend tormentor’s face to mirror the misery he felt, instead of the usual scowl matched with the condescending look.

It made him somewhat angry.

A lot things made him angry recently.

Upon Kacchan’s entrance, Shin acknowledged his presence ever so briefly before going back to flipping through Izuku’s hero notes, volume 13 to be exact. If he didn’t know better Izuku would’ve thought that Shin was trying to rub it in Kacchan’s face.

He was soon followed in by his parents and last but not least, Izuku’s mother who quickly went and sat by Izuku’s side and held his hand to provide some motherly comfort.

The room was soon filled with a strangled silence, neither of the parties knowing what to say, not wanting to start this rollercoaster.

The problem was soon solved as Mrs. Bakugou elbowed her son roughly on the side “Don’t you have something to say, you little shit?” she whispered, her powerful voice making it loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Izuku was going to give it to Bakugou, he looked guilty enough, alright. Quite uncomfortable as well, reminding him of all the visits his homeroom teacher has paid him over the course of the last month. Since walking in he hasn’t looked at Izuku even once, instead trying to find something to focus on in his surroundings. It definitely wasn’t his smartest idea. As soon Bakugou focused on the volume 13, another reminder jabbing at his sides, he dared to trail his eyes up to the man holding it, and was quickly met with the coldest, most cruel look he has ever experienced, that physically makes him flinch.

‘Oh, so that’s what Shin meant when he said moral support’ thought Izuku.

Really, he almost felt bad for Kacchan. Almost.

“Oh, this better be good” said Izuku in spite of himself, with that dead flat tone, hoping it was going to have the same effect on Bakugou as it does on Shin and make this shitshow a bit more interesting.

It was enough to bring Bakugou’s attention back to Izuku, but before he could say anything he was beat to it by Izuku.

“Listen, whatever you’ve got to say, frankly I don’t want to hear it. I’m not letting this trainwreck become a sappy continuous wailing of ‘i’m sorry’s. I don’t care what issues you have with quirkless people, or with your own anger, that’s something for you to deal with yourself. If my forgiveness is just for you to soothe your bruised ego and lessen your guilt, then you sure as hell ain’t getting it!” said Izuku, his tone cold, but harsh; harsher than what he was originally going for, but it seemed to work just fine given that Bakugou looked taken aback by the spiteful attitude displayed by his childhood friend, if he could even still be called that.

“But that’s not what you’re really here for, is it?” continued Izuku, this time more collected, as he slowly turned in the direction of Bakugou’s parents putting on the most obnoxiously fake smile he could muster.

“Kacchan’s quite great isn’t he? So smart, so athletic, and a strong quirk to boot it all, a hero material no matter how you look at it” said Izuku in faux admiration as he listed off Bakugou’s good qualities, as if he wasn’t in the room, having heard those complements one too many times “He’ll surely get into UA without a problem, unless…” he trailed off, pretending to be deep in thought “...unless all the bullying he’s done ends up in his record. After all, no school would accept someone who encouraged their classmate to attempt suicide, and his chances of getting into UA and becoming a hero will be as good as gone. Wouldn’t that be awful?” he finished, voice coated with fake worry.

“So that’s what you want, take a fucking revenge on me, huh?! FINE, HAVE AT IT THEN! I SURE HELL DESERVE IT DON’T I?!” screamed Bakugou, in what most would perceive as his usual angry manner, but Izuku knew there was more to it. Rather than anger it came across as more of a panic. Ah yes, panicked but not surprised. So even the ‘oh so great’ Bakugou knew he had it coming, thought Izuku. Now, THIS was fun.

“You do. And I’m really tempted to get my revenge, but I won’t” stated Izuku.

“Why not? Where’s the catch?” asked Bakugou, getting slightly suspicious.

“Because becoming a hero was always your dream, just as it has been mine and I don’t make it a habit of destroying people’s dreams-” answered Izuku in a slightly more neutral tone, preparing to deliver the ultimate blow “-I’m not YOU” he finished, gathering all of his viciousness into this one, final word.

That seemed to do it, Bakugou looked outright ashamed, having lost all of his desire to argue. Pretty close to crying as well, if the trembling lip and twitch in his eye was anything to go by.

“Just so you know, I’m not letting you off the hook, you should fully appreciate the feeling of guilt you know? It’s the only proof that you’re not a total scumbag if you’re feeling any remorse for your actions. So how about this? Why don’t you repeat what you said to me that day, right here, in front of your parents, my mum, my psychiatrist?” teased Izuku, feeling brave all of a sudden. It was the first time since he met Bakugou, where he was the one in control. He could kind of understand why Bakugou was such an ass all the time if this was the feeling that went with it. And to think he literally had to brush against death to get to this point. He better be careful.

“Fuck no!” shouted Bakugou. He was getting annoyed, but also slightly scared if he was being honest with himself. ‘Deku’ that he knew would never behave like that, he held no sadistic streak, no guts to try and challenge him in such way. And this one, this one was unpredictable, so angry, so vicious in the most passive-aggressive way. Is this what was left of Izuku once he snapped and fell? For all he knew, the Midoriya Izuku that he knew all his life was already dead.

“Oh, you’re not fun!” complained Izuku. “Alright, how about I help you, yeah? C’mon, let’s say it together!” explained the boy as he started moving his hands like a band director in Bakugou’s direction, as if trying to get him to sing his part of the song.

Inko grabbed one of her son’s arms, trying to talk some sense into him “Izuku, don’t you think that’s enough?” she said, while Bakugou looked at her with some sort of hope in his eyes.

“Nope, if anything I think Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou deserve to hear it for themselves, they deserve to know what their son is capable of” he stated and turned back to Bakugou.

“Alright then, let’s say it at three, okay? One...two...three…”

“If you believe they’re holding your quirk over in the next world you should just dive off the rooftop” the boys said in unison; Izuku in an overly cheerful voice, Bakugou in a flat, resigned tone as he kept his eyes down, staring at the floor, not being able to bear the scandalised look on his parents’ faces.

He was now crying, still refusing to look up.

“Now that that’s done, let’s get back to business. As I said, I won’t come forward and tarnish Kacchan’s report, although I do expect some sort of compensation, after all my medical bills won’t pay themselves. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?” said Izuku, as he addressed Kacchan’s parents. Really, it’s the least they could do, especially since it wasn’t exactly a secret that his mother wasn’t doing doing so well financially, the monthly payments sent by his father only being able to cover so much.

The Bakugou couple nodded quickly as they made their way towards their son in an effort to comfort him.

“Oh, and Kacchan?” said Izuku as he addressed the distressed boy, this time more soft, more sincere. He quickly turned to Shin, who stayed the entire time, quietly watching the situation unfold. He gave Izuku a quick nod and a little smile to encourage him.

Bakugou who was now engulfed in his parents’ embrace looked over uncertainly.

“Ever since I was little I looked up to All Might, the number one hero who could save everyone with a smile on his face. He became my ideal, my goal, something to aspire for, my definition of heroism” Izuku said solemnly, the feeling of nostalgia creeping up on him “I’m still bitter about having to give up on my dream, not because I’m lamenting about the unfairness of being born quirkless, but because I live with knowledge that someone like you; for as strong as you are, you’re equally self-centered, unbothered by well-being of others, only caring about fighting, will be able to become a hero and contradict everything it always meant to be one. Congratulations Katsuki, you’ve ruined it for me” said Izuku, the feeling of Kacchan’s full name on is tongue uncanny, but fitting the current situation.

“So when you walk out of this room, I want you to work your ass off till the brink of exhaustion, until you become the number one hero and rub it in my face, so that I won’t feel bad about loosing my dream, knowing that it’s been tainted by you” said Izuku, his eyes filled with determination “You’ve already ruined so many things, so why not go all the way?”

Bakugou, who seemed to regain some of the usually present fire in his eyes was quick to reply “FUCK YOU DEKU, I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m gonna become number one, regardless of what you say!”

“That’s what I wanted to hear”