#life is too much and death is worse so why couldn’t my mum who’s strong willed said no to my dads family and not gotten married period ���‍♀️

[kavehater]

Do I have to start saying not that anyone would care in that super duper passive aggressive way to guilt people into caring or what

[heejojo]

Love Isn't Beautiful But With You It Was

✰ summary: y/n and niki's journey from being enemies to friends to much more than that.

✰ pairing: Niki x fem!reader (and a Jay apperance)

✰ genre: fluff, angst, enemies to childhood friends to lovers

✰ warning: a few sad scenes but I'm not sure they'll be too bad! death

✰ word count: 1.8k (the most so far tbh)

a/n: this is my first fanfic so please leave comments about what should be improved. if you have any requests feel free to leave them! it's past 12am now and I need to sleep but I hope you have a nice day!

prompt gotten from @moonlight-chi77 thank you!

“Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was”

Life disappears in the blink of an eye, but the memories created and the human connection formed does not. The memories created are embedded in our hearts and follow us through different paths of life. Whether those memories are good or bad, they become something we reflect on in later moments.

Nishimura Riki couldn’t exactly remember the first time he met you but all he knew was that he had never hit off with someone the way he did with you.

September 2012

Although Niki couldn't pinpoint the exact date you guys started talking, he knew it was in September of 2012. He knew at first he disliked you and wanted nothing to do with you because you had stolen his spot on the swings.

“That's my spot, I told Jay I was going to stay here forever,” he said while his friend who was behind him nodded enthusiastically, backing him up.

“Your name is not on it and you didn’t buy it so why should I leave?” you asked him without coming down because you got there fair and square.

“I called dibs on it,” he said while puffing out his chest.

“Dibs are for babies,” you say while continuing to swing. “I’m not a baby,” he retorts.

“If you say so, then why are you wearing a Talking Tom T-Shirt?” you ask and his face begins to turn red. “It's cool, isn't it Jay?” he nudges his friend asking him for support. “Cool man, girls just suck” Jay responds and they both leave. “At least I dress myself!” you yell at their retreating figures

After that day, Niki made it his mission to disturb you every day and never wore his Talking Tom shirt again after that day.

August 2016

“Niki!!” you screamed as you felt another water balloon hit your leg. At this point, your entire body was soaked. The young boy continued to laugh and run as you chased him. You were beginning to regret spending your summer break with him when you could be watching TV instead. Eventually, you give up chasing the blond-haired boy and go into the house to dry off. Thirty minutes later, Niki comes in with a bottle of orange juice as a form of apology. You snatch it without further thought and drink it. Looking up at him after you finish drinking it, you both burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re lucky I love food,” you say. Maybe spending the summer with him wouldn't be so bad.

December 2018

Your crush on Niki was painfully obvious to everyone but him. Your friends teased you, his friends teased you yet when you were together you denied it with so much vigour. Niki had liked you for a few months now. Everyone was enjoying the slow burn that was going on between the two of you; the soft glances across the room, the way you always looked for each other among crowds, the way he knew where your secret birthmark was even though your close friends didn’t.

It was the way you complimented each other that made everyone cringe and aw at the same time. The jacket you got him for his birthday was his most prized piece of clothing and the only person he let touch it was his mum. This year though, you gathered enough courage and told him how he meant to you and how you were content with being just friends even if it hurt a little. But you weren’t expecting Niki to say he felt the same way, even more so. Your friends heaved a sigh of relief and choruses of ‘Finally’ were echoed.

It felt good being with someone.

January 2019

Everyone argued with people they loved right? Your parents did, the old lady that sells fruit and her boyfriend did so you and Niki weren’t an exception. After being childhood friends for so long you’d think you could trust each other enough to talk about the things that bothered you but he refused to, claiming that he didn’t want you to see him in a different light and how it would hurt his pride. You would tell him that no one knew him more and cared about him the way you did. At times, you’d let it go not wanting to push him but that day you couldn’t take it.

“We need to talk. Why have you been avoiding me these past few days?” you asked him.

“I’ve just been busy” he replied.

“No, you’ve been avoiding me. I know you well enough to know when you're hiding something” you said.

He wouldn't budge, he never did especially when you cornered him like this. He started to get irritated and said, “I said I’ve been busy so forgive me if I can’t give you attention all the time. Not all of us are as clingy as you” You winced; it was your fault for pushing him to the edge like that. Nevertheless, you wouldn't give up. “ I just want you to say how you feel and what bothers you. I’d never look at you in a different light and you know that. You might want to be strong but it’s okay to show some sort of emotion, it doesn’t make you weak rather it makes you look like someone that acknowledges what is wrong and doesn’t try to ignore the problem or solve it on their own” you comforted him. As the words entered his ears, you could see the walls surrounding his heart crumbling. “It’s okay to ask for help or just to rant to someone. Even if we won’t be able to provide an immediate solution, it should help” you added taking a few steps forward and grabbing a hold of his hands. You squeezed them tightly.

“I...I’m just scared you’ll leave once you see the not so perfect side of me” he managed to say. “I will stay with you, why don’t we make the best of everything without worrying about the future?” you asked while smiling. He returned it and pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you, truly,” he said and you smiled under his embrace.

After a few minutes you spoke up, “Oh yeah, Niki?” you called his attention and he hummed in response. “Don’t ever shout at me like that again, I can deck you and you know it” you said.

“Got it, boss. Sorry for being a jerk”

June 2020

You usually went on diets and exercised a lot but you were losing weight at an extreme rate and you weren’t even on a diet. Niki was worried but you brushed it off telling him it was stress from school but it got worse. You found it difficult for you to balance yourself, you felt nauseated, getting even more frequent headaches and being tired all the time so Niki decided that enough was enough and took you to the hospital. Neither of you had expected the result of the scans that were run.

“I’m sorry but there is a tumour in your brain,” the doctor said. The air left your lungs. “You can choose to get the surgery and live in the hospital for 8 months or live with the tumour for 3 months” he continued. You thanked him and left the hospital. The elephant in the room was very much alive and neither one of you wanted to address it. Did you want to stay in the hospital for the rest of your life or did you want to say with your loved ones? You thought that they would go through and that won’t be worth it.

“Niki” you called out.

He looked at you with a sad smile and just pulled you in for a hug, careful not to hurt you. “Do you want to tell your parents?” You nodded. You couldn’t just leave without saying anything. Picking your jacket, Niki drove you to your parents house.

“I just wanted you guys to know, I couldn’t just leave without saying anything,” you said with your eyes cast downwards. You couldn’t bear to look at your mom who was already crying or your dad who was blaming himself even when it wasn’t his fault or your sister who was basically your best friend. Niki had given you guys privacy but you knew it was just an excuse for him to be with his own feelings.

“I’m going to stay close to home in the meantime so I can be closer to you guys,” you said. Your eyes were already becoming glossy with tears. You inched towards your mom, taking her hand in yours and said, “You did an amazing job of being my mom and I love you so much”. Moving to your dad, you said “You did a good job of protecting me so don’t think otherwise. Let’s make all the memories we want to now without any regrets”. At that, your sister burst into tears “I… I can’t bear to lose you” Your heart clenched. “I can’t bear to lose you too” She continued crying. Your mom wiped her eyes and said, “From today, live the way you want to. Eat what you want and do what you want.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Niki staring watching the whole scene. After an hour, I stood up and went home with Niki. The car ride was a long and awkward one. When we got home, we just slept hugging each other.

Starting tomorrow I was going to live.

July 2020

The pain is getting worse but the smiles on my family and friends faces are enough to keep me going. I wrote letters and got gifts for them. Niki looks at the calendar every day, I can’t tell him to stop because I can tell he’s hurting so much. Why can’t I just be okay for everyone?

August 2020

The time comes faster, Niki and I went on a getaway for a few days. He deserved a break from everything that has been going on.

September 2020

I never thought I'd die as silly as that sounds. I asked my parents and sister to leave when I got to the hospital. Niki refused to leave and stayed there till I took in my last breath. He kept crying begging me not to go and how he’d do anything.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked between sniffles

“No it doesn’t, it just feels like a needle” it hurt like a truck.

“Liar”

I chuckled and held his hand till I couldn’t anymore. “I love you’’ I say as the lights fade.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Dear Nishimura Riki,

When you see this, it means I’m already gone. First of all, don’t beat yourself up too much. I could write for ages about how much I love you but now that I need to, my mind goes blank. You’ve done so well for putting up with me, hats off to you. You might not want to but move on, even though id like you to remember me; let your heart heal and be happy.

Take care of yourself and don’t skip any meals. Eat well and be happy, make sure you visit the places we never got to visit and enjoy yourself. Live life the way you want it every day. Be nice to people and smile more.

Thank you for all the happy memories, my love, I’ll be forever grateful for you. You made my life colourful and worth living.

Love isn’t beautiful but with you it was.

Yours truly,

Y/N.

[let-me-luve-you]

No longer Twins

Tom Holland x Twin!Sister

THIS HAS POTENTIAL TRIGGERS. PLEASE READ SUMMARY AND WARNINGS BEFORE READING!!!

Summary: Tom’s twin sister took her own life and Tom is having a difficult time with the news.

Warnings: suicide talk, reader death, angst, depression, anxiety, bullying mentioned, cyber bullying mentioned, insecurities

A/n: I apologize to anyone this may upset. I had a request and this idea popped into my head. I am in no way trying to make anything sound better or worse than it is and I am in no way trying to romanticize serious issues. Majority of how this story is written is based on my own experiences. Everyone deals with things in their own way so please do not attack me if something is different.

MASTERLIST     BUY ME A COFFEE

PART 2

It had one week since he got the awful phone call that turned his life upside down. It had been 6 days since he returned back to his home in London that didn’t feel the same. It had been 2 days since they put your body to rest.

Tom still didn’t understand how you got to that point. A point to take your own life. He has even read the note you left him over and over. He just doesn’t understand.

He sat in your room in the house he shared with you for the last 3 years. A room you would never return to. Pictures of the two of you scattered the room. Pictures of you and your other brothers and your parents.

Tom has only left this room to go to the bathroom. He hasn’t changed his clothes. He hasn’t showered. He just sat on the floor near your desk just staring at all your stuff. On again off again crying. He’s barely slept since he got the call.

Tom was in Atlanta, Georgia filming a movie. It was the middle of the night in London and early evening in Atlanta and he was wondering why his dad was calling him. His dad should know he was doing night shoots this week.

“Hello?” Tom answered.

“Tom bud.” Dom sighed. “It’s Y/N. Son. She uh... She passed away tonight.” Dom was trying to control his emotions. Trying to be strong for his son.

Tom went silent. Couldn’t breathe. His heart felt like it stopped beating. His sister. His best friend. His other half since birth was dead. Tom choked on air as he fell to his knees. The whole crew went quiet as they watched the actor react to the news. Harrison ran over to Tom to make sure he was okay.

“Tom? Tom, what’s wrong?” Harrison said looking at the distraught man in front of him. Harrison heard Dom’s voice yelling ‘Tom’ through the phone. Harrison grabbed the phone.

“Dom? Is everything okay?” He asked his best friend’s dad.

“Haz, Y/N passed away tonight. Is there any way you can help Tom get back to London as soon as possible?” Dom asked. Hating to put Harrison in this position. Harrison also froze at the news, but he had to be there for Tom. He immediately went into action.

“Of course. We will be on the next flight out. I will talk to the director and producer to put this movie on hold for now.” Harrison said. “I will text you details when I have them.” Dom agreed and then hung up.

Tom and you were always close. As twins were. The two of you were attached at the hip for the most part. You went to school together. You lived together. When Tom didn’t take you with him to film a movie or go on a press tour with him, you were texting nonstop and face timing every night.

Tom didn’t understand how he missed the pain that you were in. He knew you battled depression and anxiety, but never thought it was this bad. As Tom sat there leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out, he saw a book under your bed. It was the only thing under it. He crawled over to it and pulled it out and then leaned against the bed. When he opened it, he saw your handwriting.

7-31-2019

Dear Diary,

Man that sounds stupid. But I guess it’ll work for now. I just don’t know who to talk to. I can’t talk to Tom because he’s busy with his own life. I know if I talked to him about everything he would help me, but he’s busy dealing with his own problems. You see Diary, Spider-Man isn’t going to be in the MCU anymore. Tom is taking it hard. He loves the character and the story line. He’s also dealing with his fans being mean to him and people he cares about. I just don’t want to add to his plate. I love him too much to make him carry my burden too.

Diary, I just want this all to stop. All the hate. All the mean words. Every time I build myself up, someone is there to tear me down. I can’t win. I just need a win. I need people to leave me alone. Not pick at my insecurities. I get it online all the time from people I don’t know. I get it from people I do know here in this town. I try to ignore them, but it’s hard to ignore them when they are only speaking the words you say to yourself in the mirror.

I just want the pain to go away. I want the ache in my chest to stop. The voices in my head to stop. I just want to be normal. I want to be happy. Am I not worthy enough to be happy. Was I only put on this earth to make other people happy?

Tom couldn’t read anymore after that. His sister had been struggling for over a year without telling anyone. He feels bad reading her diary, but this is giving him insight into why he doesn’t get to see his sister anymore. Why he doesn’t get to hear voice or her laugh anymore. Why he will never get to give her a hug anymore.

Tom started crying again. He curled into a ball on the floor next to your bed and cried. He felt arms wrap around his body and pull him closer to theirs.

“Sshh Tom. It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.” Nikki whispered as she ran her hands through Tom’s hair trying to console her oldest child.

“Mum I just don’t get it. Why? Why did she have to leave? Why couldn’t she just talk to me? Why did she have to leave me mum? I can’t live without her. I don’t know how to live without her.” Tom cried.

“I don’t know baby. I don’t know. See the bright side of this tragedy. She is no longer in pain.” Nikki said as she silently cried for her only daughter. “She will always be with you Tom. She will always be in your heart and watching over you. Don’t forget she loved you the most. More than anyone else in this world.”

Tom laid in his mum’s arms until he fell asleep. Nikki gently laid a pillow under his head as she stood up and left him on the ground. He grabbed a blanket from your closet and covered him up. Nikki sighed as she saw the pain her son was dealing with. Pain she was feeling as well.

The next morning, Tom woke up to the smell of you and bad body odor. He jumped up quickly as he looked around the empty room. He saw that a blanket was over him and his head had been laying on a pillow. Tom decided to get up and take a shower. As he stood up, he picked up your diary. Something he wanted to keep reading to get more understanding. As he stood up straight with the book he saw an envelope fall out with his name on it. He opened it and started reading.

Tommy,

You are my brother. My best friend. The one that has been with me since creation. We have been together since the womb. I want to tell you I love you. I know I wrote you a note with the others. Ones that were generalized and apologetic and sort of explained why I did what I did.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m leaving you in this world without your twin. But I just can’t take the pain anymore. I need to be set free. I have felt like I’ve been imprisoned in my own mind for many many years. I have tried to get help. Tried to get these thoughts away, but it never works. Whenever it did, it was just for a little while.

I have written you so many notes. Many you will read, many you won’t see because I threw them away. If you found this one, just know I’m not mad at you for reading my diary. If you haven’t read it yet, just know there’s a lot about you. About how proud I am to be called your sister. How proud I am that you found something you love and that you are good at.

I want you to keep being the amazing human being you are. I will be looking over you with a smile on my face. I will do my best to protect you from heaven. I don’t know when you found this letter, hopefully it is before the box arrives, but there will be a box arriving soon. It is full of letters with words just for you. Letters I wrote for moments and things you may need your sisters advice.

I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be there for you in those moments. I love you so much Tommy. Please don’t ever forget that. I just want you to be happy and loving like you have always been.

Love you always,

Y/N

Tom silently cried as he read your note. Finally starting to realize, maybe you are at peace. He wasn’t happy with it. Knowing you planned this so well you had time to write multiple letters to him. But after reading a short bit of your diary, he knew he couldn’t ever stay mad at you. He looked at the letter and realized there were dry tear stains on the paper. Tears you cried as you wrote him.

As Tom walked to his room. He vowed that day that he would live for you. He would make sure your name lived on. He vowed he would help people who suffered and fought like you. Especially the ones who felt they were fighting a losing battle.

He would never move on from you, but he would move on from the pain.

[livia-dovehallow]

Hi! Thanks for answering about requests, may I suggest something ? I was thinking about a scene in Coi timeline of when Gabriel had to deal with Thomas being accused of murder, and maybe adding also Gideons reaction to that, as it was a scene I really wanted to have read in Chain of Iron but sadly wasn't there.

Congrats on your celebration and happy bday!! Would you consider doing a fic when Thomas was arrested please? Like both Gabrily and Sophideon finding out

There were two of you who requested this exact scene so I thought, well I have to do it now! Please enjoy!

CHAIN OF IRON SPOILER WARNING

Family Above All - The Lightwoods

Characters: Thomas Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Maurice Bridgestock

Time: 1903, London, England

Thomas had had better days.

Granted, being arrested and accused of several gruesome murders was not a remote candidate for one of his better days, but he’d surprisingly remained calm. Bridgestock had taken too much pleasure in arresting him for something he had no situational understanding of but for Thomas, he had a long list of people who would look out for him. Of course, when his parents find out, they would jump to his defense in a heartbeat. But Thomas had another advantage as well—Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel were currently running the Institute, and there was no way they would let Bridgestock try him for murder.

Thomas’s hopes were fulfilled when the doors of the Institute flew open and his aunt and uncle stood in the threshold with furious expressions directed at the Inquisitor. “What in Raziel’s name is going on here?” Uncle Gabriel demanded. His voice was thunderous and echoed in the entryway.

“Thomas Lightwood was found with the body of Lilian Highsmith, covered in her blood,” said Bridgestock, much too happily for speaking about a death of one of the most esteemed members of the Enclave. “We’ve caught the murderer and justice will be swiftly served for the families of the deceased.”

“Bollocks!” shouted Aunt Cecily, her voice just as thunderous and threatening as Uncle Gabriel’s had been. Thomas wondered if the Inquisitor knew that Aunt Cecily was not someone you wanted to displease. “Maurice, you cannot possibly believe that Thomas here is capable of something so horrendous.”

The Inquisitor did not flinch. So, he did not know not to anger Cecily Lightwood. “Your familial connection creates a conflict of interest in this case, Mrs. Lightwood,” Bridgestock said, annoyed. “It is best to let myself and the other members of the Council decide Thomas’s fate.”

Gabriel looked as if one of Christopher’s flammable experiments were about to erupt out of his ears. “It will be a cold day in Hell before I leave my nephew in the hands of someone without his best interest in mind,” he said sternly. “Until you come to us with cold, hard evidence of his guilt, Thomas’s name will not be announced to the Clave and he will remain here, in the Institute, is that understood?”

The Inquisitor looked furious, but Thomas had to admit that Uncle Gabriel had a point. There was no evidence other than being found. There was no weapon, no defensive wounds. “All right,” answered Bridgestock unhappily. “He will remain anonymous to those outside of the investigation. But, he will be under guard in the Institute Sanctuary until he can be tried under the Mortal Sword. Fair?”

Aunt Cecily took a step forward looking ready to swing her fist but Uncle Gabriel held her back, though he looked equally unhappy. “It is fair,” Thomas said suddenly. His aunt and uncle looked at him, their expressions easing to concern. “I will face the Mortal Sword. I am innocent and the Sword will prove my innocence. There are worse places to wait than the Sanctuary.”

“Splendid,” Bridgestock announced. He motioned the guards holding him to move toward the Sanctuary and Thomas followed, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait long.

.

.

The moment Thomas disappeared behind the hall to the Sanctuary, Gabriel and Cecily went into action. “I’ll call for my brother,” Cecily rushed, her face pinched in worry for their nephew. “Have him bring the Sword from Paris and be the one to question Thomas.”

Gabriel nodded, holding on to her hands tight. She could see the worry and fear filling her husband’s body. “I’ll call my brother, as well,” he said, his voice wavering in his attempt to remain calm. “They’ve been through too much. Damn Maurice for putting them through more heartache but there is no reason on earth Gideon and Sophie should not be here.”

Cecily released on of her hands from his grip and held it against his jaw. He relaxed in her touch, as he always did, and kissed her palm softly. “We’ll protect him,” she said confidently. He nodded without a word. “We are the co-heads of the Institute,” she added, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “We will protect Thomas.”

Gabriel smiled, ever so slightly, and squeezed her hand. “Marrying you was the best decision I ever made,” he thought aloud. Cecily smiled happily.

“Of course it was.”

.

.

The room closed in on Sophie Lightwood.

The words no mother should ever have to hear she had heard too many times. These were her children—her babies. She carried each one of them for nine months and brought them into the world surrounded in so much love. And yet—

Barbara is gone. Thomas has been arrested. Eugenia is ruined.

“Sophie.” Gideon’s voice was urgent in her ear, pulling her back into the present. His arms were around her tight. “Sophie, we must go. He needs us.”

Sophie nodded. Her son needs her. She must go to him. “Where is Genia?” she asked, her throat hoarse.

“I’m here, Mum,” came her daughter’s voice. Eugenia emerged from her bedroom with a fierce expression. “No one is getting to Tom if I have any say about it.”

Despite everything, Sophie smiled in relief at her daughter. Eugenia was strong and it eased much of Sophie’s worries (not all, of course. Once a mother always a mother). And her girls had always been protective of their younger brother, who was not so little anymore. She nodded at Eugenia and glanced up at Gideon. “Let’s go. We must see Tom.”

.

.

Thomas hissed at the sting from cut on his hands from the rough way the guards has fastened him to his seat. “Aunt Cecily, that hurts.”

She clicked her tongue at him and continued to dab away at the blood around his wrists. She insisted on checking for any dirt or infection in his wound—Bridgestock had prohibited any iratzes for him as his injuries were considered evidence. “I’ll hang that man for having you tied to a chair,” Aunt Cecily grumbled. Thomas fought an ill-timed smile but he was comforted with the knowledge that the adults in his life were looking out for him. And the knowledge that Aunt Cecily was fully capable of following through on her threats.

He had heard his father arguing with several members of the Council upstairs, but it was his mother’s and sister’s heels clicking against the stone floors that created the loudest sound in his ears. The door opened and they flooded in. Eugenia looked angry and carried her knife in her hand, which she had likely used to threaten the guard to let her in. His mother, on the other hand, looked as if she were about to cry. “Thomas,” she whispered desperately and rushed to him. Her hands were soft against his face. There were bags under her eyes that had been there ever since they lost Barbara and Thomas knew they would likely never go away. It pained him to see her like that—tired and heartbroken. “They haven’t hurt you, have they? Are you all right?”

“I’m okay, Mum,” he assured her in as comforting of a voice as he could muster. “Aunt Cecily is a very good caretaker.”

“With a wicked good right hook,” Eugenia mused. He could almost feel the smug grin their aunt gave her at that comment.

“I’m happy to see you Genie,” Thomas said to his sister suddenly. Eugenia seemed surprised, but pleased. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved to see you come at me with a knife.”

Sophie sighed in defeat and kneeled in front of him, still checking him over despite his insistence that he was not hurt. “We know it wasn’t you,” she told him. “Of course, it wasn’t you. You would never do such a thing. Your father has gone ballistic upstairs with your uncle over this and I have half a mind to march up there and join them.”

Thomas smiled. “I’m sure if you and Aunt Cecily paraded up there looking as angry as you do now, the Council will be frightened to tears.”

“As well they should be.” Aunt Cecily stood and wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress. She was still scowling, but her eyes showed her affection for him. She’d always looked out for his cousins with such fervor that it felt strange experiencing it for himself, but he was not surprised. His own mother had always told him that if he ever needed anything and he couldn’t reach her, that Aunt Cecily would help him as if he were her own child.

“Thank you, Aunt Cecily,” Thomas said to her. She smiled kindly at him. He turned back to his mother, who gazed at him with heartbreaking concern. “I’m all right, Mum. Truly.”

Sophie sniffed and tried her best to smile for him. Thomas wished she wouldn’t do that. “Hush,” she scolded him without malice. “Let your mother fuss over you. It is the one thing I can still do for my children that has no age limit.”

“You do plenty for us, Mum,” Eugenia offered in one of her softer tones. Her knife was still in her hand. “Tom is just like you. He’s looking out for everyone other than himself when he should be focusing on himself. Lucky for him, I am like Papa.”

Thomas scoffed, though it came out sounding more like a laugh, and their mother finally smiled ever so slightly. “Your uncle has convinced the Inquisitor to lockdown the Institute until Charlotte and Will return with the Mortal Sword. No curious onlookers will be poking around here. We’ll make sure of it.”

Aunt Cecily clapped her hands, looking pleased. “That man,” she said, delighted. “Reminds me why I married him every day. Come—let us go add fuel to the fire.” She gripped Sophie’s upper arm and lifted her from the floor at Thomas’s feet. She turned to Eugenia. “I trust you to guard the door?”

Eugenia smiled devilishly. “No one will get past me.”

Aunt Cecily winked—she had helped with much of Genia’s training—and tugged at Sophie’s arm. “Thomas will be all right. I promise. Aunt’s Honor.”

His mother rolled her eyes, but she went along with Aunt Cecily after hugging Thomas tight. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

“I know,” he had answered. “I love you, too, Mum.”

.

.

“This is idiotic,” Gideon demanded. He stood in the foyer of the Institute, behind locked doors that he would never be able to thank his brother enough for, staring down the Inquisitor with little hesitation. “You have known Thomas since he was an infant, Maurice. He has never done anything remotely like this in his life. You can’t possibly believe he’s killed all these people!”

Bridgestock was unbothered by Gideon’s outbursts. If anything, he looked simply annoyed that he had heard the same argument from various members of the Lightwood family. “Sentimentality and nepotism have no place in a murder investigation, Gideon,” he said roughly. Gideon thought he was less than a second away from knocking the daylights out of him. “I don’t care if he’s your son or not. He will be investigated.”

Clicks of heels sounded toward them; they were fast, determined. Gideon didn’t need to turn to know it was Sophie and Cecily, but he turned anyway to find her face red with anger. In no less than a moment was she at his side, her hand rising from her waist.

A loud, echoing slap filled the tense air. There was a moment of silence, in which the occupants of the foyer stood gaping, before Bridgestock’s face morphed into anger, his cheek turning a livid red. Nearly as quickly as his hand had come up to return the hit were Gideon and Gabriel’s hands on his wrist with an iron grip. “How dare you shackle my son to a chair and leave him bleeding,” Sophie seethed. She had not flinched. Sophie was hardly livid, but when she was, she was glorious and frightening. Gideon tightened his grip on Bridgestock’s wrist, forcing himself to hold back from snapping the bones into pieces for raising a hand to his wife.

“You arrest my son with no evidence, dare raise a hand to my wife, and now I learn you have shackled him without iratzes?” Gideon roared. He stepped closer to Bridgestock, his wrist still in his grip—Gabriel had let go long ago, though his gaze was thunderous—and hissed through his teeth: “Some man of the law you are.”

“Careful who you threaten,” warned the Inquisitor. He was annoyingly calm, testing even, with a pleased and self-satisfied glint in his eyes. “You may be at the Consul’s side, but it is I who dictate the Law, Lightwood.”

“And how long will that last—” interrupted Cecily. She stood at Gabriel’s side with her chin held high—“when Thomas states under the Mortal Sword that he is innocent? What explanation will you create to guard yourself from ridicule among the Council for being so certain of a case without evidence, dissolved with a single question under the Sword?”

The Inquisitor’s angry glare turned to Cecily, who stared him down right back. Gideon suppressed a smirk.

“Think twice before you say or do anything to my wife,” Gabriel warned.

Bridgestock angrily twisted his arm out from Gideon’s grip and took a step back. His eyes were still full of annoyance and anger. “It would do you both some good to control your women. Loose tongues lead to bad incidents.”

“Is that a promise?” Cecily wondered.

“It would do you some good to learn temperance and manners,” Gideon snapped. “Get out before I do something actually worth an arrest. Do not show your face to me again until Will returns with the Mortal Sword.”

Hope you enjoyed :’) || @tsccreatorsnet

[ladecena]

A Mother's Love🤍

It was lunchtime, but Alliah was not in the school's cafeteria. It was always too crowded and noisy, and the food wasn't the best anyways.

Instead she preferred playing intruments to her heart's content in one of the empty music rooms. Today it was one of her favourites, an acoustic violin. It was one of the school's few undamaged ones, so she handled it with care and hoped no other student would accidentally break it.

Her stomach growled, but she knew the money she had on her wouldn't be enough to buy even a cheese sandwich. To make matters worse tommorrow would be the last day of school before the one week of school holidays, she had no idea how she would be able to survive being home with her mother for the entire time.

She would just go to the library for the entire day or something, was what she concluded.

Maybe she could read up on other types of guitars like last time, or just indulge herself in a random story.

For now, she made the best use of time by practicing a difficult piece she memorised on the piano in preparation for a competition in a few months time. It was being hosted at some rich private school, but she was easily able to enter.

After all she was considered a musical genius. If she was able to at least place in the event then she would win a large amount of money as well as being sponsored by a famous musician who was to attend to be a judge. That would mean she could finally helped her mother for their needs

A ringing in her pocket distracted her from her thoughts, and Alliah rushed to pick up without even checking who it was.

"Hello?"

"Hey...Are you Alliah De Guzman by any chance?"

"Yes? Who are you?"

"I'm Officer Dela Cruz, I'm very sorry to inform you of your mother's death."

"W-what? How?!"

"A hit and run case I'm afraid."

So it what’s happened to me now.

"Am I... going to an orphanage then?"

"Well that hasn't been decided yet. My team found out you have other existing relatives, so we'll contact them to ask if they're willing to adopt you."

She had other family? Her mum had never told her that.

"I-I see..."

"You'll be picked up after school by me, and once again, I'm very sorry for your loss."

Officer Dela Cruz then hung up, Alliah feel very upset after hearing about her mother's death. Because all this time she’s only have is her mother

Alliah’s thought she would come home to a woman who would huged her when she arrived, and the mother who loved her for the rest of her life.

For now, her only worry were these so called relatives. Alliah knew she had a biological father, but had been told once that he had died years ago.

A few hours later...

After school had ended, Alliah waited by the school gates before getting in a police car which pulled up, she was glad it was late since she didn't want to attract attention.

The driver was a petite female who seemed to be in her early thirties and wore a blank face; Alliah assumed she was Officer Dela Cruz.

"Hello again Alliah, I have some more news to tell you, positive this time."

Her other family decided not to adopt her and she could stay by herself?

"Your brother agreed to adopt you immediately, and even paid for your flight ticket to the city he lives in for tommorow!"

Dang it. Wait a second...

"I have a brother?"

"Yes, six older brothers to be precise, I just contacted the eldest one." After seeing Alliah De Guzman she added, "I'm sure it won't be bad."

You try having lots of older brothers you've never met before and see if you like it, lady.

"Anyways, for now, let's go to where you live and you can take what you need as quickly as you can."

Alliah wanted to tell her that it wouldn't take her long since she didn't have much, but then decided against it and helped the officer with directions to the block of flats where she lived.

As soon as they arrived, Alliah could feel the woman's concerned look on her. Let's just say the girl didn't live in the best neighbourhood, and the building was pretty old and run-down.

She quickly got out and ran to the flat she lived in. She found that the door was left open, by none other than her beloved mother.

Upon entering, Alliah was so upset and starting to cry out loud, and instantly hit with the usual stench of cannabis, but ignored that and went to her tiny bedroom. She pulled out a small suitcase from under her bed, and filled it with the few possessions she had. In her schoolbag, she put in her books, music notes and pieces and their pictures with her mom, as well as her sleeping pills.

Once she was done, she dragged her stuff back to the car and finally sat back down into the front seat while crying.

"Before we leave for the airport, are there any friends or places you want to visit Alliah?"

She shook her head, of course she didn't have any friends! It was safer that way, no one could risk finding out about the conditions she had lived in.

The Officer simply nodded and drove them away, and Alliah plugged in her earphones and listened to some Music.

Going through the airport was a bit long, but she didn't mind since it was her first time and she was quite to board the plane. Once she reached the waiting area, Alliah was sipping on a cola Officer Dela Cruz had brought her, and began to stress over meeting her new family.

What if they don't like her? Or they think she's not good enough?

For all people, why does my mother die? And then what happened to me now.. Alliahs thought.

"Officer...Can I ask you something?"

The woman glanced up from her phone and nodded.

"What if I don't like it at my brothers' home? Can I come back here instead?"

Officer Dela Cruz frowned before saying, "Well it's not as simple as that. I'll come in a week or two's time to see how you're finding it and if it really isn't working out- by that I mean things like if there's signs of abuse or the financial situation is bad- then you can come back."

"Ok..." The response hadn't been quite what Alliah expected, she thought a simple 'I don't like it here' would be enough for her to avoid living with these people, but there was more to it than it seemed.

"But hey, once you're 18 there's no stopping you from going or doing what you want, right?"

"I guess. Thanks Officer."

With that Officer Dela Cruz continued scrolling through her phone.

An hour or so later, it was time for Alliah’s flight. It was quite late at night and the plane was due to land in the morning. She shared an awkward but warm hug with Officer Dela Cruz before pulling back.

"See you, and thanks for the cola Officer."

"Goodbye Alliah, and just call me Mel."

Alliah changed her mind, Mel was not as bad as she had initially thought.

While alliah’s in her way to her new family they start to think about her last conversation with her mother.

Alliah’s Conversation with her mother ..

'I really like the sound of your voice everytime you say you love me, baby.'

Alliah smiled softly and stared at her mother eyes, the eyes of the woman whom She have loved for years. She still looks beautiful even with the wrinkles on her face, or with her hair turning into gray.

Alliah’s smiled even more as She reminisce their memories back to the good old days, the days when their still young and strong, the days when their still fully able to get along.

Alliah bent down and searched for a black pen and a paper to write on inside her backpack. While she sits still, silently, calmly taking in its beautiful scenery.

When Alliah finally found the things She needed, She placed it on her lap. Then, She waved her hand which got her mother attention.

"I love you," She uttered and waited for her mother response, wishing she would respond. After all, she has always loved to hear they say these words since She was a kid.

But maybe, She got her hopes too high again because she just stared at her with a knotted forehead, as if she's confused.

Alliah gulped down the longing that She felt, trying so hard to stop her self by crying even when her chest aches too damn much. She still can't understand what I'm saying, she can no longer understand. I've been trying, I've been wishing, I've been praying every single day, begging Him to make her understand me again. Nothing happened.

I held the pen and wrote something on the paper. Then, I handed it to her, now with a big smile plastered on my face. For this queen should not see any signs of weakness from me.

She took it immediately and looked at the paper for a while. And suddenly, tears started to fall from her eyes. I almost panicked, thinking that I made her feel upset. Maybe she sensed it, or maybe she knows me this much that she shook her head before I could even ask her what's wrong.

Without a word, she hugged me. She hugged me really, really tight, making sure that I'd feel her unconditional love with this simple act.

"I love you."

I've been telling her these words for years and I'd still say it over and over again, even if she couldn't understand what she hears anymore.

"I love you, Mama. I will never get tired of loving you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

While thinking of it Alliah’s started to cry again and thinking what happened next with him without her beloved mother.

- MariaGrasya🍃

June 11, 2021

[ithebookhoarder]

Hey! I love your story the gangsters daughter SO much and I was wondering if I could request something based on it?

Where it’s the night before Evie’s wedding and she goes to Tommy’s office to talk as she’s nervous and they have a fluffy moment where he doesn’t think he’s ready for her to get married! ☺️

Cold Feet (Parent!Tommy Shelby x Evie)

A/N: Ok ok ok. First of all anon, how dare you be so fluffing cute?! And second, OF COURSE YOU CAN! I love Evie and I’m always looking for excuses to write for my baby. Also, I’m totally not crying at the thought of Tommy having to let his little girl go and get married and just wanting her to be happy... I just have something in my eye. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Masterlist:

Tommy had always known this day would come. 

It was as inevitable as death was for every single living thing on this planet. 

No matter how hard he’d prayed that he’d have just a little more time left, his luck had finally run out. There was no delaying it any longer now that the day was almost upon him when his life would change in a way that would alter his world forever. 

It was tomorrow, in fact, that Tommy would see Evie shed the Shelby name for another. 

True, he could not have chosen a more worthy candidate, and knew Toby would love Evie as she deserved to be loved. That didn't lessen the sting it caused though, to know his days as the only male in her life were now over. Soon, she would no longer be his, no longer living in the same house as him. She would be a married woman, and that filled Tommy with incredible joy, and incredible sorrow at the same time.

This was the curse of fathers. 

It seemed only yesterday that she was small enough to not even care about boys, let alone marriage. He remembered a particular conversation with fondness, when Evie had only been with them a few months or so. 

It had been in the wake of a row over Ada’s most recent conquest at the time. An annoying boy, Liam had only lasted three dates before being scared off by Arthur, John, and Tommy.  Despite being nothing particularly special, Ada had been incredibly enraged, yelling about how she wanted to marry him and that she’d never find love again. 

Of course, Evie had found the whole thing hilarious, if not a little confusing. Hence, when she’d sat up in bed that night, as Tommy passed by her room one final time, he couldn’t help but smile at her quizzical expression. 

“But, Dad. If she loves him what’s wrong with that? Besides, Mum had a baby on her own… if Ada did end up pregnant would it really be so horrible? She’d have a child, like me, and you all warmed up to me pretty quickly.”

“Well,” Tommy had begun, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of this discussion with his only recently recovered twelve-year old daughter. Polly was always far better at talking about this kind of stuff. “It’s… you see… people tend to only have children when they’re married.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how things are done.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Tommy smirked. “Most people would agree with you, but a lot don’t. They can be horrible and cruel, even to women who were in love but weren’t married when they had a kid. So, we’re trying to spare Ada from that. It’s fucking complicated, but at the end of the day, she deserves to be happy, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes,” Evie sighed, suddenly staring down at her bedsheets nervously. “But… does that mean Auntie Martha was right? That I have to get married when I grow up? But Dad, the only boys I like are you… and my uncles… I don’t suppose I could marry one of them?”

Tommy immediately bit back his laughter as he shook his head and held her close. “I’m afraid Martha would object to you marrying our John. Besides, you don’t want one of us old men when you can find someone young and handsome who you love very much.”

“But how will I know who that is? Or if they’re good or not?” she asked innocently. 

“I’ll help you,” Tommy offered, not without a little hesitation. To even think such a time would exist, when he would have to part with his daughter, when he’d only just found her again… “You can depend on it. Any unworthy bastards will be driven away by me, and the hounds.”

At that Evie spluttered into laughter, before pressing a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Now that, I would pay to see.”

Well, that day had come and gone and Tommy hadn’t released any hounds. No. The only hound in sight was Cyril, and he’d warmed incredibly quickly to the new member of the family. 

He hadn’t been the only one either. In fact, Tommy had rolled out the red fucking carpet, welcoming the man into the family. Sure, it hadn’t been without its challenges along the way, but as much as Tommy hated to admit it, Toby was a good man. More than that, he’d proved his loyalty to the family, and to Evie, over and over again. 

If he had to part with Evie to anyone, then at least it was to someone as decent as Toby. It made the whole ordeal hurt just a little less as he sipped his whiskey and stared out of the study window. 

Despite the late hour, there were still faint laughs and shrieks of delight echoing from upstairs. Ada, Lara, Polly and Lizzie were most likely to blame, having taken charge of Evie’s so called ‘last night of freedom’. Tommy didn’t know what that entailed exactly and he didn’t even want to try and guess. Not given how much champagne they’d lugged upstairs with them earlier, having returned from a busy evening dancing at a local club. 

If they weren’t all hungover as hell in the morning it would be a minor miracle. 

Still, as long as they got their asses to church on time and didn’t throw up on the minister, then everything would be fine. No. It would be perfect. Tommy had promised Evie that much and he’d be damned before he failed to deliver a promise as solemn as this one. 

She’d done the same for him, twice in fact, even if his union to Lizzie had been a far simpler affair than his first marriage to Grace. 

At least Evie hadn’t insisted on there being a ‘father of the bride’ toast - even if Ada had… Somehow, Tommy knew his would never be anywhere as good as the ones his daughter had given. 

She always had had a way with words.  

“Dad?”

Tommy froze. 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

He was startled by the sound of her voice, echoing from the open doorway, as if summoned by his worry. He’d almost thought he’d imagined it until he turned and saw her standing there, looking a little worse for wear in her finery. 

Apparently he’d been right; she’d had a very fun evening.  

“Evie?” he blinked, clearing his throat as he tried to compose himself. “What are you doing down here? It’s late and I thought you’d be upstairs celebrating a bit longer. Big day tomorrow.”

Evie smiled, shrugging as she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. She knew she never needed an invitation, having given up knocking long ago. 

“I was but… I don’t know. I just wanted to come and see you, if that’s alright?”

It would always be alright. Tommy hoped she knew that, even if the anxiety in her eyes said otherwise. Then again, he suspected the nervous energy wasn’t directly aimed at him.  

Over a decade later, he knew his daughter better than he knew himself. It was why he nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him in a clear invitation. “Of course it is, but won’t the others miss you?” 

“Oh, they’re all too busy finishing the last of the wine to miss me right away and… I don’t know why but I needed a minute away from everything. It was all a bit… much.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my world. This family has always been a bit much,” Tommy teased. That was why they both loved them though. The Shelby spirit was strong and made them who they were. They wouldn’t change it for the world, even if it did drive them nuts on occasion. 

And Toby was willingly entering this family, why? 

“I’m almost scared to ask what’s being going on up there.”

“Probably wise, Dad. No one should see thing things I have tonight.” 

“I thought so.”

A laugh escaped Evie’s lips as she sat beside him, accepting the glass of whiskey he handed her without a second thought. It was simply routine by this point, the two of them caught in a silent routine on nights like this when they needed to simply clear their heads and think. 

It was an unwritten agreement between the pair of them. As was the somewhat confessional nature this room had taken on in its time under the Shelby household. So much had happened since they’d first moved in to Arrow House, from Charles and Ruby being born, to losing Grace, to Evie falling in love, Tommy’s ascension to Parliament, losing John and Esme, Lizzie and Tommy’s wedding… 

Only a decade or so, and yet Evie felt like a whole novel would never be enough to capture her family’s history or the almost surreal events that had taken place.

“Besides, it’s been a while since we had a talk like this, Dad,” Evie continued, shrugging as she sipped her drink and stared at the room. “Everything’s been happening so fast since Toby proposed. It feels like we haven’t had a moment to breathe, really. You’ve been so helpful, agreeing to everything and allowing us to turn this place upside down. I can’t thank you enough for that, by the way. I half expected you to be like Arthur yelling at the florist earlier.”

“It’s the least I can do, Evie. It’s not every day my daughter gets married - and he yelled so I didn’t have to. Fucking trying to sneak carnations in when the order clearly said Clematis with the centrepieces.”

Evie snorted, failing to hide the fact hearing Tommy Shelby raging about flowers was possibly the funniest thing to have ever happened. Ever. Good thing he hadn’t been there when someone had accidentally delivered the wrong amount of chairs for the tent erected out on the lawn. She could only imagine the carnage that would have occurred.  

“My knight in shining armour.” 

“Always. No ring changes that, Evie. I’ll always be there for you, whether it be to fend off blind florists or worse.” 

Despite the fact he acted as if he was merely joking, Evie knew her father meant each and every word. He always had. Even with their ups and downs, he had never abandoned her, always trying to do what was best for her, even if he went about it the wrong way from time to time. 

When she thought back now, to the day she’d first met him in that graveyard, on what had been one of the darkest days of her life, she wished she could tell her younger self not to be afraid. To not be angry or scared of the future before her and the wondrous people that would be in it, thanks to the wonderful man she got to call her father. 

“Dad, can… can I ask you a question? About tomorrow?” 

Tommy hummed softly. “I don’t know what I can tell you about weddings, but fine. Of course.”

“It’s not about the wedding per say, more the bit after. I just… I’m scared, Dad. I don’t know why but I am.”

The words made Tommy’s heart plummet before he’d even realised what she’d said. It took everything in him not to panic or try and express the pain he felt at the idea his daughter was scared about what was supposed to be a happy day - a happy and expensive one, even if Tobias had money enough to cover a lot of the costs. 

“Of what?” 

“I don’t know,” Evie whispered, almost as if ashamed to confess it. “I’m so happy and excited to start the life together Toby and I have talked about for years but, now that it’s here? I don’t know. I just … I feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out and I don’t know why. Is something wrong with me? Who gets terrified of their own wedding?”

“Every fucking sane person on the planet,” Tommy countered swiftly, a hand reaching out to take hers. “As someone with experience here, you can trust me when I say everyone gets scared, Evie. Everyone. No matter how certain you are that you love the person or that this is the right next step.”  

“But why?” 

“Because it’s a big commitment,” Tommy continued, “and it’s a new chapter in your life. That’s exciting but also terrifying. To know you have a chance to start a family of your own? To choose your own path? That’s nothing to take lightly, and if I didn’t think you wanted this, or that you weren’t ready, I would have said something before now. You can count on that.” 

He had a point.  

“And I know you, Evelyn Shelby. You have never let anything or anyone stop you from going after what you want, even if it’s scary or someone says no. If being with Tobias is what you want, then so be it. You’re a grown woman, as much as I fucking hate to admit it. I think you’ve proven over and over again that you’re the bravest one out of the lot of us, and I’m so proud of you. Your Mother would be too. She’d want you to be happy and to enjoy tomorrow for what it is: the start of another chapter in your incredible life.” 

The thought of her absence was enough to make Evie’s eyes sting with tears, as was the conviction with which her father spoke about her. The pride was clear, even if he looked a little scared himself at what tomorrow would bring for them all. 

“Thank you.”

Tommy nodded, knowing better than to argue as she threw herself at him, coiling herself around him as she often did. Ever since the first time she’d done it, he’d been unable to resist it. So what? His daughter’s embrace was one of the few in the world that made him feel loved. It was as if her presence alone was enough to restore him, to banish whatever was troubling him. 

The thought he wouldn’t just be able to have such hugs so frequently made his heart ache even more. 

He didn’t want her to go. 

In his eyes, she was still the twelve-year-old girl he’d first met. She always would be, no matter how much she insisted on growing up and being a so called ‘adult’. It was why he planned on keeping her room upstairs exactly as it was now, just in the case she ever needed or even wanted it. 

That, and because he physically couldn’t bear to erase any remaining traces of her from his home. Of course, Lizzie had teased him rotten about it, even if she understood. Still young, Lizzie hated the thought of Ruby ever growing up and leaving her for anyone - let alone a husband. 

At least they had some time left before that would be happening. Tommy didn’t know if he could survive anymore heartache so soon.

“I love you, so much, Evie,” Tommy whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and holding her close. “You’ll always be my little girl, and you’ll always be welcome here. Anytime, day or night. This will still be your home, and we’ll still be your family. If anything, we’re simply gaining more members, not losing any. Understand?”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, wiping her eyes as she shot him a watery smile. “I love you too, Dad, even if I swear I’m supposed to be the one telling you all this. Isn’t it normally the father of the bride who’s supposed to get all teary eyed and jittery the night before?”

“We’ve never been conventional, Evie. In case you forgot, we have politicians, the Lee branch of the family, and Alfie fucking Solomons all coming tomorrow, for fucks sake. Why should we start worrying about tradition now?” 

Evie’s laughter was infectious at the picture of the eclectic scene awaiting them, especially considering how excited Alfie had been at the prospect of attending a Shelby wedding. Oh, Arthur was going to explode at the sight of the Jewish gangster sat in all his finery. That, and when he saw the huge gift he had been promising her for weeks now.  

She couldn’t wait.  

“True. Well, traditional or not, I’m so grateful for the life we have, Dad. I’ll never be able to tell you how grateful I am that you were the person who showed up at that graveyard,” she confessed. “There’s no one else in the whole world I want to be my side tomorrow. You’ll still walk me down the aisle, right?”

Tommy beamed. “How can you ask that, Evelyn Shelby? I’ve always been right beside you and tomorrow is no different. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.” 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tommy whispered, “simply enjoy yourself and let me and the others take care of the rest. That’s all the thanks we need… and maybe call once in a while, just so I know you’re alright.”

Evie laughed, knowing she would probably still end up here most of the time anyway after she was married. But she agreed, pleased to put his mind at rest as well as he’d put her own. “I really do love you, Dad.” 

“And I love you too, Evie. Always.” 

[alliumwrites]

if only we had more time.

please, do not steal my work! 

tw//death and characters coping with a loved one’s death

How do you greet death like an old friend when they were always a relative? 

Astoria Greengrass always knew that she would greet death sooner than her friends. She knew that she would die sooner than her husband and child. She knew that she wouldn't be able to grow old with her husband. She knew that she wouldn't be able to watch her child grow up. Death didn't scare her anymore—she was afraid of leaving her family in pieces. 

How does a wife prepare her husband for her early death? 

When Astoria married Draco, he knew about her blood curse and life expectancy. The hours they were apart were the hours Draco spent in his lab, trying to find a cure for her. There had to be a cure for a blood curse somewhere out there or something to help Astoria stay alive a little longer, but he found nothing. Astoria would walk into the alchemy lab to find him hunched over at his desk. 

"Draco, what are you doing?" Astoria would ask, but she already knew the answer. As much as she told him that there was no cure for her blood curse, he continued on his hunt for a cure. 

"I'm going to find you a cure," he said. 

Astoria shook her head, "There isn't a cure." 

"There has to be! I'll find one!" He cried out. Draco held onto a sliver of hope that one day, they would wake up and find a cure. 

Yet, hope was never enough. 

"I'm here now, Draco. You shouldn't spend your time trying to find a cure when you could be spending more time with me," Astoria said. 

She always knew what to say to Draco. 

How does a mother prepare a child for her death? 

Before Scorpius was born, she knew that she had to prepare him for the day she could not be a part of his life. After he was born, she would spend hours watching over Scorpius and teaching him everything that she could. In subtle ways, she had always prepared him for her eventual death. 

"My beautiful, Scorpius," she would whisper into his head before kissing it. 

How does a mother send her only child off to school? 

Astoria and Draco found it difficult taking Scorpius to Platform 9 3/4. People would move away from the small family and send them glares. The people around them knew of Draco's dark mark. The people around them speculated Scorpius being Voldemort's son. 

Scorpius had approached many people his age, but their parents would pull their children away from him. Scorpius became an exceptionally lonely child.

"I'll miss you, Scorp," Astoria said as she kissed his forehead. 

Scorpius hugged his mum, "I'll miss you too." 

"And what about me?" Draco interrupted. 

"I'll miss you too," Scorpius said before hugging his dad. 

Astoria pulled out a bag of sweets from her purse and handed it to Scorpius. 

"Sweets always helped with making friends," Astoria said. 

Scorpius grinned up at his parents. 

"I love you," Scorpius said as he walked to the train. 

Both Astoria and Draco watched as the train made its way to Hogwarts. They hoped that their past would not affect Scorpius' future. 

Yet, hoping wasn't good enough. 

Scorpius found it extremely hard to make friends on the compartment. Nobody wanted to talk to him, much less sit in the same compartment as him. He tried offering candy to them, just like his mother said, but the students laughed. 

"Why would we accept candy from you? You'll probably poison us," the students would say. 

Scorpius sat in a compartment alone, eating his candy. When he heard somebody knock on the door, he glanced up. 

"Do you mind if we sit here?" The boy asked. 

"No, I don't mind at all!" Scorpius said. The girl was hesitant about sitting down, so she continued standing up. 

"Would you like some candy?" Scorpius asked. Maybe this time, his mother's advice would work. Scorpius took a closer look at who the two were, and to his surprise, he realized he was talking to Albus Potter and Rose Granger-Weasely. 

"Sure," Albus responded. 

Rose tried getting Albus to leave, but nothing worked. Albus questioned why Rose wanted to leave so quickly, but Scorpius already knew why. 

"She wants to leave because of me," Scorpius said. 

Albus looked confused at his answer. 

"You're Albus Potter, and she's Rose Granger-Weasely. I—I'm Scorpius Malfoy, son of Draco and Astoria Malfoy. Our parents didn't get along," Scorpius awkwardly said.

Rose rolled her eyes, "That's putting it lightly. Your parents were death eaters." 

"Well, dad was—mum was never a death eater, and the rumor going around isn't true either," Scorpius said. 

"What rumour?" Albus asked. 

Rose tried getting Albus up. "For goodness sake, Al! There's a rumor going on that he's the son of Voldemort! But that's not true! He has a nose!"

Scorpius awkwardly laughed, "Yeah, it looks just like my dad's." 

Albus shook his head, "I think I'll stay here, Rose." 

Rose stood there in shock and angrily walked away. Scorpius and Albus quickly bonded and were soon both sorted into Slytherin. 

That night, Scorpius excitedly wrote to his parents about his new friend. Astoria and Draco smiled at the letter. 

Maybe Scorpius wouldn't be stuck in their past.

How does a child cope with watching his mother grow frail? 

For the first few years that he knew of her blood curse, he had expected her to get better. Yet, he found himself coming home to his mother getting sicker. 

When Scorpius came back home from his second year, his father was the only one on the platform waiting for him. His mother had written a letter to apologize for not being able to go to the platform to pick him up. 

"You alright there, Scorp?" Albus asked.

"I don't know why I expected my mother to be here," Scorpius sadly replied. 

Albus knew all about his mother's condition. Scorpius and Albus would spend nights talking about the rumors, expectations, and their parents.

"You'll be alright?" Albus asked. 

Scorpius nodded, "Of course, I'll see you around?" 

Albus smiled, "Yep. You know, Scorp, you're always welcomed at my house."

"I'll ask my dad if I could come over," Scorpius replied. 

"Scorp!" His dad called out. 

"Bye, Al." 

"Bye, Scorp." 

Scorpius quickly walked towards his father. 

"Hi, dad." Scorpius said as he hugged his father. Draco greeted his son with a smile before they both apparated back to Malfoy Manor. 

As his mother's health declined, more healers would visit. It was a constant reminder of her weakened state. 

Both Draco and Scorpius walked up the stairs and found Astoria in her room. A few healers were checking her vitals and taking her blood, but she still wore a smile. 

"Mum!" Scorpius said with a smile. He walked over to Astoria and gave her a big hug. He was excited to see his mum but watching her grow frail in front of his eyes pained him. His smile was deceiving; for the smile was not one made entirely of happiness. His smile held a certain sadness to them. It pained him to see his mother grow frail in front of his eyes, but he didn't complain. 

He didn't want to complain about the ache in his heart when his mother had it far worse. 

He didn't want to complain about the ache in his heart when his father had to watch his mother die. 

Yet, both his parents could see the emotions clearly on his face. They tried to comfort Scorpius, but he wanted to be strong for his parents. 

Strength was never his strongest suit. 

How do you go on with your life when you lost a piece of yourself? 

Scorpius had barely begun his third year when Professor McGonagall called him into her office. Scorpius shakily walked with her to her office, where his dad stood waiting.

He knew that something had to be wrong for his dad to go all the way to Hogwarts. Scorpius was not dense. He knew his mother grew frailer and weaker—he witnessed it with his own eyes. 

"Let's go home, Scorp," his dad sadly said. 

Scorpius ran past the healers and to his parent's room. Draco followed quickly behind Scorpius. 

"Mum?" Scorpius quietly asked. 

Astoria looked up at both Scorpius and Draco. She smiled and weakly motioned for them to come over to her side. 

She knew she was running on limited time, but she wanted to see her son and husband one last time. It was her dying wish to have her memories of Draco and Scorpius etched into her brain and heart when she would have to part ways with life. She stared at both of the boys next to her, trying to memorize their faces. 

"Mum, are you okay?" Scorpius asked before kissing her cheek. He knew it was a stupid question to ask, but he held onto the small sliver of hope. 

Astoria smiled, "Of course, I'm okay. I have my two favourite boys with me."

She gripped onto their hands. Her hands were much colder and weaker than they used to be. 

"We love you so much," Draco said. 

"And I love you both so much. More than you can ever imagine," Astoria said before she kissed both of their hands. 

Her eyes were heavy, but she forced them to stay open longer. "My boys," she whispered. 

"I love you. Please don't leave us—please don't leave me!" Scorpius begged. 

From his blurred vision, he couldn't tell that her eyes were closed and her breathing had stopped. 

Scorpius rubbed his tears away, hoping that he would see his mother awake, smiling at him. Instead, he saw her lifeless body. Scorpius continued to rub his eyes—maybe then he could wake up from his nightmare. 

Draco sobbed into her lifeless body. The two boys held onto her as if she was their lifeline. 

They both began to ramble their goodbyes to her, but it became a blubbering mess. 

What is home when you can't have the missing piece? 

The manor was desolate. Days after Astoria's death, the manor was in complete silence. The healers left the house and took Astoria's body. No healers—no mum.

Draco cried in his lab, breaking the objects that had failed him. He wanted her back more than anything. 

Wanting was never enough. 

Scorpius wrote a letter telling Albus what had happened before sobbing once more. His father would come in to try and help comfort Scorpius but ended up silently crying as he held Scorpius. 

No words were exchanged, but them being there for each other was enough. 

[hereisleo]

NEON JUNCTION

w/ k.ys & j.wy

g/ cyberpunk!au, friendship, mild angst

w.c/ 3.8k

a.n/ @moonchildsaurora, here it is finally. from your birthday through christmas, new years and now our one year of friendshipvery, this is long overdue and thank you so much for you patience. ah, time flown hasn’t it. i will forever be grateful of your friendship and reaching out to me first, my lovely 🌹 anon. the incredible talent you have in creativity, you have me absolutely smitten over world building (multiples now) in our convos. you’re such a vibrant person, Sunray, and i adore you dearly from the bottom of my heart. seeing your messages first thing in the morning and at the end of the night is a good way to start and end the day. cheers to more years to come and who knows our dynamics might shift akin to woosang. i love you to pluto and back! here’s to friendship and to our first pieces of the year! (excuse the mistakes you find here pretend they don’t exists).

t.w/ expletives, character death (not the mains)

playlists/ cyberworld | k.ys skates & drones

An illegal virtual world. A damaged psyche.

How far is Yeosang willing to go to find the answers to his questions? Will he put his friendship on the line? Just as how his life is beginning to near its end. The DarkNet is not a place for weaklings and its the only place where he perhaps will get his answers.

A treacherous journey is afoot.

Yeosang knows the DarkNet better than he knows his world, the real world where his body is still on the chair in the attic of his friend’s humble abode. In the net, it’s only his mind and light particles forming his appearance. Dangerous but thrilling. He has come to love the rushing adrenaline, an outlet for him to rid of his pent up frustration. Is he properly armed? Is his supply stocked well? In the old world, this is all a video game played on television. In the current world, the world he lives in, the post-apocalyptic environment, this is his reality. The DarkNet, everything illegal happens here. Credit, fame, information, it doesn’t matter what or who you are in the real world but the DarkNet requires you to build a name for yourself. It has taken so much from him. He’s sore, tired, most definitely overworked although the last is self-imposed for many reasons. He can’t rest until he has answers and the credits needed.

A virus slams his wall of codes, dragging him into a fight, vision blurring slightly from the impact and red lights of warning. His monitor reads a huge output of energy from the wild AI that strikes him. The resounding sound of ‘FIGHT’ reverberates in his ears and his light particle fingers flew across the screen, mind racing and the heartbeat bar on the top right corner shines yellow in warning with how fast his heart is hammering in this ribcage. Not being able to code is akin to a death sentence in his line of work. Talons slam on to his screen, vicious orange lines of codes burning into his memory, a phoenix avatar. He hasn’t seen one in so long after- No, now is not the time, Yeosang. A little character waving a sign appears, the nervous bouncing and worried expression have him refocusing. ‘STAY ALIVE.’ He will and with it comes forth his avatar, roaring at the wild phoenix AI. A sophisticated dragon in black codes emerges, wrestling the phoenix on to the virtual dirt ground. If there’s one thing Yeosang has that is his own, it’ll be willpower. His friend calls it being stubborn but he’ll take stubborn too.

The virtual cheering falls deaf to his ears, the colosseum is a mere replica of past time, almost real, he could almost touch it. Almost. Alas, what’s long gone can never be rebuilt the same way. Yeosang simply doesn’t have the clearance or importance to enter the colosseum in the real world. No, those are for the governmental scums. The reason why he resorts to the DarkNet. Another swipe recalibrates his mind that he’s still in the middle of a deathmatch. He hates phoenix, they’re hard to kill. His neon green French nails dance under the black light of his screen, the pads of his fingers typing codes after codes. ‘TERMINATE’ and his dragon glows from within, orange light peeking between the scales, rumbling with brewing fire. The dragon pins the phoenix to the ground by its neck, the angry screeching of the bird makes Yeosang ground his teeth. Too close to home, the similarity of the screams of survival from that night comes crashing to the forefront of his mind. “End it, Mars!” He yells and his dragon obeys, jaws unhinging and relentless waterfall of flames burn the phoenix to its ashes. ‘VICTORY’ flashes on his screen. He doesn’t stick around for long, his vitals are yellow, caution. It’s time to log out, he taps the green box of ‘EXIT’ on the corner. The tugging sensation of his mind being dragged back into reality has him closing his eyes to diminish the dull ache. Yeosang doesn’t see the ashes trembling as his light apparition disappears from the illegal virtual world.

Disengaging from the DarkNet is proving to be difficult for Yeosang, his consciousness ebbs and flows, brainwaves tangled up in what’s real and what’s not. Wooyoung stands stiffly next to the Meta, feeling sick in his stomach, chest constricting with worry. He’s not averse to the virtual world but it doesn’t mean he likes it the same. He watches the Meta shut down, Yeosang’s vitals and brain activity updated on the glass screen mounted on the wall. The little character Yeosang crafted into the AI system jumps up and down with happy chirps, ‘STABLE.’ Hehetmon, it’s called, a moniker after the old TV show from the gone world. He and Yeosang would binge-watch together occasionally when he’s not swamped from juggling two jobs. Three. Watching over Yeosang is a job in itself. A job he’s willing to sacrifice everything else for.

A groan has Wooyoung almost throwing himself to his friend but he digs his heels and instead he kneels beside the blasted chair and hands reaching to disconnect all the wires attached to Yeosang’s body. He doesn’t know all the names of the cables but he does know the two most important, the EKG and the digital implant. Hehetmon on the screen highlights the different wires that need to be detached first. The cables slither itself back to its ports within the chair. He gingerly touches the base of Yeosang’s neck, the wire attached to the neural digital implant gives into his fingers without a fight. He thinks it’s muscle memory, he does this often enough Hehetmon keeps a record on how fast he could bring Yeosang out of the Meta. (Less than a minute when push comes to shove but usually under two.) They have come so far.

14-year-old Wooyoung was putting his younger brother to sleep, a worn-out storybook clutched between his hand as his brother rested against his chest, the strong thumping of his heart and his voice lulling the younger. He could have used the tablet, everything was in it but they only had one and he didn’t want to take it from his parents. They needed it more and they couldn’t afford another one, they couldn’t afford many things. His parents splurged on a book when they first had him, a treasure for their little treasure. He had read the compiled fairytales from cover to cover, the make-believe of the olden freedom, a taste he can only experience between the pages and in his mind when the house was still. A dream far from reality.

The door creaked open and Wooyoung stiffened. It was the newcomer. “How’s Kyungmin?” Timid. The new addition- Yeosang, his parents scolded him for being impolite by not referring to the other boy by his name. Exhausted, malnourished and was most definitely ill. His parents were apprehensive about Yeosang's sudden appearance but took him in regardless. Wooyoung was reluctant to have a new addition in the place. As if they need another mouth to feed. They were struggling to meet ends. He glanced at the barely one-year-old sleeping on his chest, the high temperature took a toll on the small body. “The fever broke.” He left it at that and Yeosang was understanding enough to let the matter rest. He put the book aside and cradled Kyungmin securely before standing up. Yeosang was shifting from foot to foot by the door, Wooyoung sighed exasperatedly, he was tired enough, “Just lie down somewhere already.” The blonde let out an awkward thanks and shuffled to the bottom bunk bed on the other side of the room. Wooyoung didn’t have the energy to tell him the bed Yeosang occupied was his. He left the room and laid Kyungmin back in his crib in his parents' room.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung didn’t expect Yeosang to flinch at the question nor did he expect to find the other boy to be curled up on the floor and reading the fairy tales book. Yeosang stood up, the book slipping from his hands and both of them winced when it hit the ground. He picked it up hastily and hung his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Wooyoung waved him off, “It’s fine.” Thick silence blanketed the room and neither moved to ease it. Yeosang opened his mouth before closing it again. He managed to string out a sentence after a while, “There were never any books back there.” Back there? Did he mean home? “Do your parents never read you to sleep?” Wooyoung almost apologised, Yeosang flinched at the mention of parents. The blonde shook his head and Wooyoung felt his stomach twist. “Mum used to sing me to sleep.” His chest tightened.

“How did you end up out here, Yeosang?” Wooyoung thought he was a bastard for not calling Yeosang by his name sooner. He never witnessed someone look so surprised by hearing their name. He walked up to his bed and sat down, patting the space next to him. Yeosang hesitated before giving in and sat next to him, posture tense and ready to bolt. “I ran away.”

Yeosang rouses from his ‘sleep’, the warm dark yellow light welcoming him into reality and so does the familiar voice next to him. Wooyoung is reading to him and he recognises the old story immediately. The Ugly Duckling. “It’s getting worse lately.” The pages flutter and Wooyoung keeps reading line after line in soft tandem. The book closes inaudibly. “You slept through dinner.” Yeosang steps into the Meta in the afternoon and for him to wake up at night, it’s getting worse indeed. He’s grateful that he hasn’t started hallucinating though he knows it wouldn’t be far if he keeps going at the pace he’s been putting his psyche through.

“Woo-”

“I know.”

“Wooyoung, I-”

“I know, Yeosang!”

“I know you can’t stop going into the Meta. I know I can’t stop you from fighting in the DarkNet. I know you need answers. But would you please take care of yourself for once!” Wooyoung runs an aggravated hand through his hair, he slumps forward in his seat, elbows digging to his knees and face hidden in his palms. Yeosang falls silent, letting his best friend, who is as close as a brother, gather his bearing. He stands up and his legs give out under him, muscles convulsing, sending him tumbling back to the Meta chair. He feels like puking yet his throat is also closing up, his head spinning and there is ringing in his ears, Wooyoung’s voice sounds so distant even though he is being held against the ravenette. He could make out flashing blue lights through his blurry vision, the health scanner kept handy beeps but he could barely hear it.

It could have been a minute or ten or an hour before Yeosang takes a hold of reality. His heart slams furiously within his ribcage and he’s once again reminded of the sped-up mortality rate of a DarkNet gladiator. The effects the Meta has on a person is damaging and he started to show the symptoms of what they called the bleeding effect. He currently renders more physical than mental and it won’t be long until the latter catches up. For how long he’s been exposed to the Meta, it’ll be sooner than he expects.

He blindly searches for Wooyoung’s hand, grasping it in a vice-like grip. He’s not the only one who’s scared. Yeosang doesn’t want to lose his sanity. He’s exhausted enough but there’s no rest for the wicked. He can’t rest, he can’t sleep with both eyes closed knowing there are answers for him out there and he needs to find it. He’s quite willing to put his psyche on the line even if it means him being thrown into the loony bin. Wooyoung loops his arms around Yeosang, tight enough for the blonde to feel how fast Wooyoung’s heart is racing. There’s a hole of emptiness in his stomach. “Can you stay with me tonight?” His voice is too raspy for either’s liking. There’s not a peep of sound coming from Wooyoung. Action speaks louder than words, especially when it’s Wooyoung. Wooyoung has a lot of words to use and yet he chooses not to, Yeosang knows better than to question it. He trusts the other with his life, his psyche and all that he is. There’s nothing that would err Yeosang to turn his back against Wooyoung. He owes Wooyoung way too much. All the credits in his account couldn’t repay what the other has done for him. It’s never enough and never will be. The seven years that they have known each other and the experiences they go through, Yeosang thinks he could never not trust Wooyoung. His life in reality and the Meta is in Wooyoung’s hands. Others would say their relationship isn’t healthy, that they are too dependent on one another and maybe that’s true. He knows he can’t function in the real world without the other.

“Promise me one thing, Yeosang. Don’t go into the Meta without me.”

Yeosang nuzzles his head into the space between Wooyoung’s shoulder and neck, his hands bunching the fabric of his friend’s shirt. The emptiness settles deeper. It’s not an answer because he knows he can’t keep such a promise. Wooyoung knows it too.

The DarkNet has shifted again. No two places look the same after each login. It changes constantly to avoid detection from the government’s pesky security. The lines of codes forming his apparition in the Net walk on the edge of a skyscraper. Mars languidly flew around the building ready to catch him if he slips. He won’t die necessarily, forcibly exited from the Net with some repercussions but not dead or just as good as dead. He has heard of those who were in comatose or worse. Mars huffs out a flaming breath, a rumbling growl thickening in its throat and Yeosang halts on his track. A stray orange feather twirls into his vision and his hands involuntarily shake, mind racing hundreds of miles an hour and he almost could feel the phantom cold sweat. He sees Mars’s wing slides between him and the feather, the thick lines of codes that formed the dragon burst into a pixelated mess and his ears ring from the explosion and the angry roar of his avatar. In the distance, Yeosang sights a phoenix emerging amongst the skyscrapers.

He sinks to his knees, hands covering his ears trying to block the screaming in his head or maybe he’s the one who is screaming. Mars knocks him into safety, away from the ledge and under its wing. No! No! No! His nails dig into his scalp.

The screeching of a phoenix avatar was the last warning he heard. The last sound to be ingrained to his memory with his mentor, with his brother, with his only friend in the blasted tech conglomerate. Yeosang could make out the silent words of the man across from him, trapped under locking codes and rubbles. Damages sustained in the Meta transferred over to the real world. The red warning signs ‘LOW HEALTH’ flashed before his eyes. His screen lit up with white words and Hehetmon skipped across the coded lines in loading.

- AVATAR TRANSFER IN PROGRESS -

URL: ORTECH://psh.MARS.980403

PREDECESSOR: [loading…]

Yeosang reached out futilely. The orange feathers fluttered around them, singing with heat as they glowed and sparked. Through his heavily cracked screen, he saw a small content yet the regretful smile of his friend. His eyes prickled with tears, dread, no, acceptance of the inevitable sank into him. Why is it always the best one to go first? One of the feathers zinged, a chain reaction of explosions rained upon them and Yeosang couldn’t hear his scream.

“Seonghwa!”

Take care of him, Mars.

- AVATAR TRANSFER COMPLETED -

“Kang Yeosang, get a grip of yourself!”

Yeosang stills at the call of his name. His battle screen is already up and the rectangular box of the communication line is open. Since when? Hehetmon spins in cheers when his eyes locked onto the pair of brown eyes he’s never tired of seeing. The beauty mark under the right eye puts a soothing balm into his mind. Wooyoung. His nails ease from its abuse against his scalp. Fuck, he must look so pathetic right now.

“You little bastard, I told you not to go into the Meta without me!” Guilt tinges in his chest. Yeosang opens his mouth, apology ready at the tip of his tongue. “Keep your ‘sorry’, we got a bird to cook.” Wooyoung never fails to reassure him but he knows it’s merely the calm before the storm. He’ll get his scolding later. Mummy never forgets.

He does what he does best even in trouble, “I’m still taller than you.” There’s still a quiver in his voice but the incredulous look on Wooyoung’s face makes him feel better. “Strip it off its feathers already, dammit! There’s milk on fire here!” Yeosang exhales and rises to his feet, his screen following his movement. The French manicure is chipped but the neon green is still vibrant in contrast to the black light emitting in front of him. He types in a series of battle commands, Mars flies higher and higher into the virtual light blue sky. Blades like armour materialise over the avatar’s claws and thick orange light peeks through between its scales. The phoenix is still far but his screen picks up the avatar’s image, the damages from their previous encounter aren’t fully repaired. What kind of a gladiator does that? Even Wooyoung can do better.

From Yeosang’s view, Mars appears to be a crow, so small up so high. Of course, he never sees the real bird, far extinct in the old world but there’s nothing that couldn’t be found on the Net. His avatar reaches right below the height barrier and takes a sharp nosedive, its weight falling at terminal velocity. Mars jaws unhinged and the fire stokes in the depths of its belly slowly rise to its throat. The screech emitting from the bird is as irritating as he remembers and his fingers tremble. He can’t tell if it’s fear or physical exertion but his head is in the game and mind is surprisingly clear despite the fireballs of feathers that are about to burst. Mars is partly hidden from his eyes with the myriad of singing explosives surrounding the dragon. Yeosang learns the hard way and he’s a learned man as Wooyoung puts it. He activates the defence codes just as the first fireball of many rains upon the black scales. He smirks from his perch, he didn’t spend many sleepless nights perfecting the codes for nothing, the tautness in his shoulders and back are good reminders too. The enraged squawk from the phoenix AI lifts his mood. The crosshair locks into place and the ‘TERMINATE’ sign appears. “Give it a good roast, Mars.” His finger taps the sign and an eruption of fire falls on the ugly big bird. His avatars claws sink into the phoenix broken pixels and glitches are visible around the broken codes. The storm of fire doesn’t relent, damages blooming across the sky and buildings. Surely the surge of energy catches the attention of fellow DarkNet users and government security. Mars doesn’t let up until each code is destroyed beyond repair, its claws tearing the wings apart by the joints. Yeosang slams his fists against the screen and yells when ‘VICTORY’ pops up in vibrant gold. Wooyoung’s cheers fall deaf to his ears over Mars roaring.

He slumps against the ledge, laughing like tomorrow won't come. He can’t believe it. He’s still alive and he supposes revenge is exacted. It feels empty somehow, he doesn’t know how to process the emotions in him at the moment. The event hasn’t hit him yet. “You’re so melodramatic, Yeosang,” Wooyoung chirps from the corner of his screen, “Give it a good roast, Mars!” His friend mimics his words earlier and Yeosang rolls his eyes but he can’t help the smile creeping on his face. Mars lets out a proud huff beside him, the dragon gives him an affectionate nudge and its ember eyes shine with much familiarity. His breath hitches but the avatar disappear with a sharp toothy grin. “Yeosang?” He makes a noise of acknowledgement. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He might have, “I’m alright, Woo. I’m going back now.” Even now you still look after me. Messages and clips of the fight start to spread in the forum. Data from the scrimmage is filed away, he’ll deal with them later. Hehetmon is skipping over the green box of ‘EXIT’ and he lets the mini AI jump on the button. He closes his eyes as the pull on the base of his neck erases his condensed light form from the DarkNet.

“Six months?!”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue as he inspects the nonexistent dirt under his fingernails, “Do you want one year instead? Okay. I’m completely fine with it.” Yeosang frantically refuses the added length, “Six months! Six months! Deal!” He never wants to wipe the shit-eating smirk off his friend's face so much. “Get scrubbing then.” Mummy never forgets indeed. Wooyoung not only scolds him but also gives his ear a good pinch and twist as soon as he is fit to walk around. Now he’s stuck on dishwashing duty under ‘consider it your retribution for breaking your promise.’ Yeosang sighs, he picks up a dirty dish and squirts the washing liquid on the plate. He’ll count himself lucky Wooyoung didn’t put him out there as hall staff.

“Did you process the data from last time?” His hand stops moving at the inquiry. Hell, he didn’t like what he saw on the files and Wooyoung most certainly wouldn’t either. God, he hates this so much. He doesn’t like it when the past comes biting back. “The phoenix URL traces back to ORBIT Tech.” A utensil clatters to the floor and Wooyoung curses like his seventeen-year-old self. “ORBIT Tech? Please tell me it’s a different conglomerate and not the piece of ‘the future is virtual science’ shit of your lunatic father’s!”

Yeosang nods, lips thinning, “Unfortunately, it is. That’s not the worst.” Wooyoung sucks in a breath, the come hither motion gestures him to go on. “I thought the phoenix was a wild AI or someone from the DarkNet was bribed,” he pauses, eyes searching for the dark browns of his friend’s, “It was under Seonghwa’s name.”

“Seonghwa’s dead! He couldn’t possibly-” Wooyoung halts his rant when he notices the unflinching gaze of his seven years companion. It clicks in his mind the inevitable of many other inevitables are descending rapidly on them. At some point, there will be a time where he couldn’t protect Yeosang. There will be a time where his friend has to return from where he comes from. He would be lying if he didn’t lose sleep thinking of this day. The twinkling skyscraper at the centre of the city mocks him. Yeosang doesn’t belong in the nest infested with lies. He’ll be damned, he much rather have Yeosang fights in the DarkNet instead. He’ll take the repercussions. But the chills running down his spine, the pressure in his chest and the unnerving hollowness in his stomach douse him in the harsh reality they live in. The finality of it grips his marrows.

“It’s time for me to stop running.”

[kalimagik]

Innocent

Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Based on the song “Innocent” by Taylor Swift 

Word Count: ~1700

Warning: death, saddness, I’m sorry...

A/N: I cannot be held responsible for the words that flowed through my fingers and onto the page. It’s sad and angsty and I’m really, really sorry. ANYWHOOOO...first Draco fic that I’m posting! If you enjoy reading, like, reblog, comment, or even follow! I’d love to hear from you all! Happy Reading <3

*Not my GIF - Credit to owner 

The ink on his skin felt as though it burned when no one touched it. Even when it was covered up. Returning to Hogwarts seemed pointless for his 6th year. He was now a part of something bigger, why did he need to be at school for any reason besides fulfilling the Dark Lord’s wishes. Not to mention, facing his girlfriend at the time was not something he was looking forward to. 

Knowing her, she would see the mark right away. How could he explain it to her? 

Draco managed to avoid Y/N on the Hogwarts Express and he managed to avoid her during the welcome feast, but when she sought him out after, he had nowhere to hide. 

“Draco! There you are, love! Where have you been?” she asked sweetly. Draco couldn’t meet her gaze. He instinctively pulled his sleeve further down his arm, but he wasn’t slick enough to hide it from her. “What are you doing?” 

“It’s nothing. I’ve got to go,” Draco tried to brush her off. He walked towards the dungeons and to his dormitory where she couldn’t reach him. He felt awful, but he knew she’d be disappointed in him if she found out about his Dark Mark. 

He was successful in avoiding her for a few weeks until she cornered him in the courtyard. 

“Malfoy! What is wrong with you? I haven’t seen you in weeks!” Y/N demanded. 

“I’m fine. Just busy with school work.” Once again, Draco tugged at the sleeve covering his left arm.

“School just started. Why do you keep doing that?” Y/N grabbed for his arm and before he could stop her, she pulled his sleeve up. Open mouth and wide eyes was all she could manage. She had no words for him. 

Draco quickly pulled his sleeve back down. “I have to go,” he said abruptly. 

“No. You don’t. I know you don’t have any classes right now. You need to talk to me!” 

Draco couldn’t hold back from her any longer. Grabbing Y/N’s hand, he led her to the 6th floor boys bathroom. 

“I can’t go in here, Draco! It’s the loo for the boys,” Y/N insisted. 

“No one uses this one. Just come here so I can explain everything.” 

Before the words could leave his mouth, the tears began to roll down his cheek. The pressure was already amounting. Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo’s and he hadn’t meant to hurt her. 

Y/N was the first to speak. “I guess you really did it this time, huh? Left yourself in your warpath. Lost your balance on a tightrope. Lost your mind trying to get it back.” 

“I had to, Y/N. He was threatening my family. He was threatening you. You don’t belong anywhere near this fight…it isn’t fair.”

“I can handle it.” 

“You say that, but I can’t handle it. I- I think we need to take a break. We need to break-up. It’s the only way I can protect you.” The tears on Draco’s cheeks picked up in volume. Y/N could tell how genuine he was being and how he didn’t want to hurt her. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N changed the subject. “Wasn’t it easier when we were little? Wasn’t it easier in our lunchbox days? There was always a bigger bed to crawl into. Mum would hold you close and care for you. Draco, I remember when we were little so fondly. Wasn’t it beautiful when you believed in everything and everybody believed in you? We didn’t have to worry about an impending war then.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Draco managed. 

Y/N leaned towards Draco’s body, pressing her lips to his cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll wait for you…” 

----------------

The year continued and Draco’s state became worse and worse. Y/N could hardly recognize him. He seemed distracted and paranoid. One evening, Y/N found him in that same 6th floor bathroom. The end of the year was nearing and Draco had a job to do. A job that Y/N knew nothing about. 

“Hey, hey!” Y/N ran to him and pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder. She tried to soothe him with her words. “It’s alright, just wait and see. Your string of lights is still bright to me. Who you are is not where you’ve been. You’re still an innocent. You haven’t done anything you can’t come back from.” 

Draco’s breakdown hurt Y/N more than he could know, but she knew she needed to be strong for him. He had a rough few years ahead of him. 

----------------

When the war finished, Y/N was there waiting for Draco. He was pardoned for his affiliation with Voldemort and was free to continue his life. Soon after his pardon, he proposed and married Y/N as soon as he could. He was finally happy. The days were good, he had Y/N beside him. 

Draco did some things he couldn’t speak of, but at night he’d live it all again. He wouldn’t be so shattered in his life now if only he had seen what he knew now then. Nevertheless, he would relive his past life in his nightmares.

He would awake with a start every single time. Sweat encasing him and heavy breathing that he could not control. But, without fail, Y/N would wake up and take his shaking body into her arms and whisper to him. “Wasn’t it easier in your firefly catching days? And everything out of reach, someone bigger brought down to you. Wasn’t it beautiful running wild until you fell asleep? Before the monsters caught up to you? I know it's a hard life, but it’s alright, just wait and see. Your string of lights is still bright to me. Who you are is not where you’ve been. You’re still an innocent.” 

Y/N would hold him until he was able to fall back to sleep. 

Starting a family and raising a son kept the couple busy, but that didn’t stop Draco from being influenced occasionally by those from his past. It didn’t stop him from hearing the sneers and comments made about him. They still stung. 

Even at 31, almost 32, Draco was starting to teach his son how to ride a broom. He couldn’t even do that in peace without passersby whispering about him. They brought up the worst of him. The parts of him that he didn’t want his son to know about because he wanted his son to have a chance to make his own reputation. 

Y/N could see his face harden with every single word, so she’d have to remind him how great everything was for them. She would have to remind him that they are still young. “Hey, Draco.” She would call his attention. “It’s okay, life is a tough crowd, 32 is still growing up now. Who you are is not what you did. Never forget that.” 

Time turned the flames to embers. The family had some new Septembers. Scorpius started at Hogwarts and began to make his own place. As Draco saw all his old classmates for the first time in years, sending their kids off to school, Y/N reminded him that every one of them (including herself) has messed up too. 

Life continued to change like the weather. Scorpius was enjoying school and starting to form his own life, away from his father’s reputation. Everything seemed to be going well, until Y/N got sick. Then life got hard for the Malfoys. 

Draco sat with Y/N for hours on end. He didn’t want to go to work. He really didn’t want to go anywhere that would take him away from her. But, as much as Y/N held on, Draco knew she wouldn’t be able to forever. The end was coming soon. 

“Draco?” Y/N choked out one evening when Scorpius was on break from school. 

“What is it, love? Do you need something? I can do whatever you need me too. Scorpius, can you go get your mum some water please?” 

Scorpius nodded and hurried out of the room. 

“Draco, look at me.” 

Draco brought Y/N’s hand to her cheek and she stroked her thumb across his skin. “Even after I’m gone…” 

“Don’t talk like that. You’re going to make it.” 

Y/N smiled softly, wishing that he could be right. “I hope you remember today is never too late to be brand new. Okay? You can be everything that our boy needs if you let yourself.” 

“I can’t do this without you.” Draco felt his eyes begin to swell and water. “I don’t want you to go.” 

There was that smile again. It seemed as though the hope it held was so misplaced, but it also seemed so full of peace. The tears began to fall. Draco wanted to be strong for her this time, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. 

“Shhh. It’s alright, just wait and see.” Y/N started as she always did when he was upset. “Your string of lights is still bright to me. Who you are is not where you’ve been…You can do this.” 

----------------

The sun shined and the birds sang. Draco knew that Y/N would have thought of today as a perfect day. The dreary English weather seemed to have let up just for her. 

There was a beautiful turn out for her funeral and Narcissa had taken Scorpius back to the house when the crowd started to disperse. Only Draco remained at her grave. How could he be strong now? 

A slight breeze blew past his figure, wrapping him up in a warm feeling. 

“Hello, love. I don’t understand why you had to go. You were still an innocent. This shouldn’t have happened to you.” Draco wiped his nose on his sleeve. He felt as though he had lost his balance on a tightrope again. But then he thought of Y/N, he knew that it was never too late to get it back. 

[cherryfi]

Under the light of the full moon

Plot: Moving into a new neighbourhood is hard, especially when you’re a wolf and it’s almost time for the full moon or, the one where your new hot ass neighbour is also a werewolf.

Word Count: 4875

 Werewolf AU! Smut!

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Warning: 18+! Oral, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, a little violence

A/N: Part of my halloween series! Requests are open! I liked writing this one but, I still think I could have done better you know? Anyway, Chan is so beautiful oml I just want him to dick me down. Enjoy!

“Your neighbour is sexy as hell.”  You laugh as you glance over your shoulder at your best friend, you’re putting up the last of the scent blockers in your new home and she’s supposed to be helping you.

However, she’s stood at the window, watching as your neighbour makes his way back from his morning run. He was shirtless and wearing running shorts – it was hard not to notice how hot he was.

You’d finally moved into your new home and were adding the finishing touches. Moving to a new town was hectic and super stressful but, you were taking it in stride. Honestly, nothing could get you down. You’d gotten a promotion at work, which meant a bigger office and you had a big enough bonus to purchase the house of your dreams. It was perfect. A 3-bedroom house surrounded by lush forest – the perfect getaway from the chaos of the city. Being a wolf, and a lone one at that, you needed all the nature and open space that you could get. Especially when it was a full moon.

 “He’s even hotter up close but, I’ll be keeping my distance.” She glances at you, eyebrows raised and prompting you to continue. You really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“He came over to say hi when I first moved in, he’s a really sweet guy but he’s a werewolf so, it’s not going to happen.” She looks at you in shock and then laughs incredulously.

“How do you know? Has he told you? Does he know that you’re one as well? If you’re both werewolves shouldn’t that be a good thing, you can finally meet someone; and you won’t have to worry about explaining why you have to go out every full moon?” You laugh at her babbling.

“I can smell it on him, it’s like a perfume, you know? His scent is quite strong but, I’ve got no idea what that means. He came by to say hi when I was moving in and I smelled it on him, obviously. He’s an architect and he does carpentry in his spare time, so he was offering to help out.”

“He helped you move in? He was in this house with you? You had that whole gorgeous man in your home and y’all just talked about work? Also, you didn’t answer all of my questions.” You laugh at how pushy she is, and she raises her eyebrows, placing her hands on her hips

“He helped the movers with the sofa and some of the drawers, so we didn’t talk much. It was pretty late, and he said he was just coming in from work. I haven’t told him anything and I don’t think he can smell it on me because of the scent suppressors.”

You hold up your necklace, the charm glinting in the light from your window. As long as you wore it other wolves wouldn’t be able to smell you.

Which came in handy because you were alone and had no pack.  

A lone wolf was an easy target for any pack, especially an omega, all it took was one curious alpha and it could be all over.

Staying hidden in plain sight was your best option.

“So, when are you going on a date with him?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you and you laugh before sighing.

“I’m not.  Jas, all he did was help me move in. It’s no big deal.” But you couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful at the chance to get to know your attractive neighbour some more. You imagined dates with him and spending time with him. Would he kiss you when he welcomed you home or would he cuddle you instead?

Chan was ridiculously handsome, with his gorgeous smile and pretty eyes. His Australian accent was the stuff of dreams and it didn’t help that during the little time you’d spent together, he was friendly and warm.

He was boyfriend goals.

But, it would never happen.

He was a wolf and judging by his scent, he must have been an alpha and if he was an alpha, he had a pack. Being his friend would only lead to issues down the line. The closer he got to you, the closer he would get to the truth and you weren’t prepared to tell him that.

“Besides, it’s almost time for the full moon, I need to make sure all my charms are put up; so, no curious wolves come poking around.” The perks of moving to a rural area was that the surrounding greenery was the perfect cover for a lone wolf who wanted to stay hidden.

It gave you the perfect opportunity to spend as much time as you needed in wolf form (especially during the full moon) and it meant that you didn’t have to travel as far to get to a wooded area.

But that came with it’s cons.

A large forest meant more space for other packs, which, of course, meant more wolves.

“If you’re a wolf, why do you need to ward off other wolves again?” You’re in your kitchen now, sipping hot chocolate as you wait for your home to heat up. The chill October air finally seeping in, as it gets late into the evening.

Jas had been your best friend since you were seven and she was there for you when you were attacked.

Other than your mum, Jas was the first person to know what the ‘animal’ attack had really done to you.

Coming from an active family and living on the peninsula meant that as a family you’d always gone hiking. You were an avid hiker and forest walker, spending plenty of time in the hidden meadows and next to the brooks, streams, and rivers that ran past your home.

This was your thinking place – it was where you hid away when life became too much and the weight of the world threatened to crush you underfoot.

Today was one of those days.

Finals were coming up and life was changing way too fast for you. Your friends were moving away from home, you were all going to separate schools, come autumn and your family was falling apart.

You were reeling and the only thing you could think to do, was to go to the one place where nothing ever changed.

The forest.

You grabbed your camera and packed a hamper with your favourite foods, your schoolbooks and a blanket. You were going to one of the many meadows you’d discovered, this one was close to a small stream; and you were going to relax the day away.

But when you got there, the forest was silent.

The silence hung in the air like a stale, musty smell.

Thick and heavy with tension.

None of the animals were chirping or making noise, it was as if the woods themselves had been frozen in time.

You shook the eerie feeling off, sure that it was your own anxiety towards the future that was making you antsy.

But then you saw it.

Your eyes caught on to the movement of the trees, just on the outskirts of the meadow. It took some time for your eyes to adjust to the movement but, when they did, you gasped.

The trees moved artificially. Almost jerkily as you caught sight of 2 eyes.

They caught the nearby sunlight and glinted but appeared almost as if they glowed on their own and soon, the wolf stepped forward.

Almost haughtily as if it tasted and enjoyed your fear.

You packed your things slowly.

Maybe if it noticed you packing, it would understand that you were going to leave and meant no harm.

Were you meant to make yourself look smaller and submissive or bigger and more threatening to a wolf? You didn’t know but, you hoped it would understand the message you were trying to convey.

“I don’t mean any harm; I’m going to leave now. Please let me leave in peace?”

It made a noise, something like a barked laugh and approached you further.

It was blocking the way you came.

You picked up your hamper and walked backwards, keeping your eyes on the wolf and thinking of any ways that you could get away from it and into civilisation.

It didn’t matter what you did, the wolf kept stalking towards you.

Once nightfall came, you knew you were screwed.  

As the sun began to set, the temperature dropped, causing you to shiver, and you’d lost sight of the wolf.

Despite it’s larger than normal stature, it was completely black, and the only light you had was your phone’s flashlight. It wasn’t powerful enough to be of any help to you.

How were you going to get out of this?

Especially because you didn’t know what’s its agenda was.

What did it want with you? Why did it continue to stalk you?

Your signal was down, and you had no way to contact anyone.

You began to sob.

Broken and completely alone, you began to wonder if this would really be your fate – mauled to death by a determined monster-wolf.

Suddenly, the pressure to do well on your exams and to fix your parents’ crumbling marriage didn’t matter.

Worse things were about to happen.

“Please! Please, leave me alone! I’m not going to do anything to you, I won’t even tell anyone I saw you. I’ll never step foot in this forest again, I swear. Just please don’t hurt me.” Going hysterical, the only option you really had left was to plead to this creature.

It wasn’t a normal wolf; you’d known that then.

The way it stalked you, wasn’t normal, the way it looked at you with those almost human eyes wasn’t normal.

As if showing you some mercy it broke through the trees and approached you.

Towering over you, it huffed in your face and you stood up from the cold ground, hoping that it would let you leave. The moonlight illuminated its fur making it look almost ghoulish. It should have been frightening, but the wolf was calm and so were you.

The  wolf really wasn’t so bad.

You reached out your hand and petted their fur, it nuzzled its head onto your shoulder.

And then tore a chunk out of your side.

 You shuddered at the memory, unable to really remember what had happened after you’d screamed and passed out.

“I have to. After that wolf turned me in the forest, I had to learn everything on my own. Honestly, I was angry at first, I’d go into the forest every day to hunt it down. I was going to kill it. But then my first full moon came, and I was all alone and there were no other wolves there to help me. I had to deal with it on my own. I just wanted it to show up. It never did. I won’t get played like that again.”

“So, you’re scared that if you let another pack in, they’re just going to abandon you.” She doesn’t have to question it.

“It’s different with other people. You and my mum have never left my side and dad supported me so much after they found me. Hell, he led the search party. But, the only experience of wolves I have is that one and I’m not going to let it happen again. Even if that means being alone forever.”

“Yeah, well who needs a pack when you’ve got a Jas? Am I right?”

  Chan knew you were a wolf as soon as he stepped out of his car.

He couldn’t catch your scent, which meant you must have been blocking it but, that didn’t matter.

They were other markers that gave it away; like your body language.

As soon as he stepped out of his car, you stiffened; you weren’t even facing him, but it was clear that his presence was affecting you.

And when he came over to say hi, you shrunk away from him.

You were being submissive to him; which must have meant you ranked lower than he did but, what rank you were was left to be seen.

What was clear, however, was that you were alone, there was no scent of any other wolf on you or your things and none of the people helping you to move seemed to be wolves either, not even the friend that came over later when he said goodbye.

So, he scent-marked as many of your items as he could, hoping that that would help alleviate your anxiety towards him and that it would protect you from other wolves.

Even if you weren’t in his pack, he’d decided you were his responsibility and especially with the full moon coming, wolves needed to look out for each other and as an alpha, it was his job.

He knew what kind of wolf you were after he’d finished helping you move in.

“That’s the last of it!” He smiled, rubbing his hands together as he faced you. He could hear your heartbeat picking up.

“Thanks for helping me out Chan.”

“Hey don’t mention it. Consider it the start of an amazing friendship.” He wrapped his arms around you unexpectedly and before you could catch yourself, you returned the hug, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent.

You were an omega.

It almost scared him how happy he was that you were comforted by his scent and by his own revelations.

No matter how long it took, he was going to make you his but, he hoped he could at least make you notice him by the time the full moon came.

  You were antsy.

Which was normal given that the full moon was that night, you were always on edge by the time it came around.

Your wolf, scratching just beneath the surface of your mind was ready to be let out.

So, you let her out.

You’d spoken to your mum and  she’d wished you luck for the full moon, in the same way that she did every time it would rise. You told her you’d call back once you returned home.

You’d told Jas that you would be gone for a few days and that you would call her once you were back as well.

Sitting under the light of the full moon, you waited in front of your tent, the campfire blazing high as you stripped out of your clothes, folding them neatly and placing them inside.

It was all part of the routine.

You turned after that.

Your bones shifting and rearranging, your muscles lengthening and growing and the hair on your skin thickening into fur; your jaw cracks and grows into shape.

With one last roll of your shoulders, you shift you the weight on each of your legs, giving yourself time to become re-accustomed to your canine form before you wandered around this new area.

It was a wild meadow, a lot like the one back home, the smell of lavender filling the air as it swayed in the bitter wind but, you weren’t cold.

Back when you’d first shifted, it had been extremely painful, it had taken you hours to get over the pain and fear of readjusting to another form but now, it was light work.

What was excruciating pain, was now a muscular ache; the same kind of pain you got after a heavy workout.

You ran around the meadow and into the woods themselves, leaving your makeshift campsite at its edge, just under the cover of the trees – hoping no one would find it – and headed into the clearing.

The clearing led to a cliff’s edge and you sat there watching how the moon’s glow cast itself on the forest down below and swept across the horizon, it was the only light to be seen but, it was all that you needed, your eyes were sharp.

The wind swept across the trees and forestry making them dance in time and you sighed in contentment, withholding the urge to howl.

As much as you were at peace, the last thing you wanted to do was to alert another wolf to your position.

The wind carried another scent across your nose, and you looked to your left, catching a glimpse of movement.

Too late.

You noticed it too late.

Looking back at you, was another wolf.

The way the light shone off their fur made it hard to discern their colouring but, you guessed it was a sandy brown.

You both stared at each other, and the wolf stood up from their stoop, clearly curious about you and without thinking, you took off. They followed after you, only a little caught of guard by the abruptness of your movement.

Their scent caught you again.

It was Chan.

Did he know it was you?

You didn’t care, you didn’t have time to worry , you were doing everything in your power to dodge him.

Jumping past fallen logs and ducking around corners and trees you hoped you could confuse him with your scent and lose him.

You could hear him, treading through the bramble and underbrush behind you.

But just as suddenly as you saw him, all trace of him was gone.

You couldn’t smell Chan in the air at all, nor did you hear him in the surrounding areas.

Cautiously, you snuck back to the edge of the meadow, scared that if you entered the clearing, he would materialise.

Chan caught you off-guard, shoving you from the side.

You fell down as he clambered on top of you.

You growled at him, trying to nip at any part of him that you could catch but, he dodged your teeth every time.

You nipped at one of his front legs and he yelped pulling away from you; you took that as your opportunity. You rolled on top of him and nipped at his shoulder before his hind leg kicked yours from under you. Trying hard not to lose your footing you, got up quickly, and ran full pelt.

You didn’t know where to go but, anywhere away from him was good.

He quickly foiled your escape attempt.

Chan gripped your back leg in his teeth, pulling it back and you fell, howling in pain.

You rolled over ready to fight back but, he pinned you down, baring his teeth and aiming for your jugular.

You’d lost the fight.

If you kept trying to fight, all he had to do was sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your throat and you would lose your life as well.

His body language was clear.

Phase back and reveal yourself or face the consequences.

You shifted back, trying your hardest to cover your exposed body but not from the cold.

Chan was staring down at you, recognition in his eyes.

He shifted back too.

“Y/N?” He didn’t care that you were both naked, but you did, and you tried your hardest not to look down at his exposed body.

He smirked.

Chan sat back and you sat up as he continued to look at you.

You shied away from his gaze.

“Don’t hide from me Y/N. Aren’t you tired of hiding from me? You’ve been avoiding me and blocking your scent. You’ve been hiding what you are, and we still managed to end up here.” He slinks towards you and places his hand on your cheek.

Tentatively, Chan kisses you.

His lips move against yours softly at first but then fervently and you gasp into the kiss as he lifts you into his lap. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck.

He pulls away first and begins peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulders, laying you down in the grass. Chan hovers over you, staring at your body hungrily.

“Y/N I want you so bad.” He growls it out, placing himself in between your legs, running his hands up and down your body and tickling you lightly.

“Can I, have you?” He leans down softly nipping at the sensitive spot on your neck and you moan out, your hands reaching up to card through his thick, fluffy hair.

He kisses further down your body and takes one of your nipples into his mouth sucking lightly and running his tongue over it until it perks while his hand massages your other breast.

You’re a mess.

Moaning louder and louder, you don’t know what to do with your hands and you grip the grass firmly, your head thrown back.

Chan kisses down your body, leaving hickeys as he goes and once he’s directly  between your legs, he kisses across your hips.

“Y/N, can I have you?” He kisses your inner thighs, nipping lightly at the soft flesh and you gasp out.

“Oh god yes.” This isn’t like you. The heady mixture of desire and his scent in the air drives you crazy.

“Baby, look at me.” His voice is deep and sultry, words dripping with honey but commanding and you look up.

“Y/N, I’m going to make you feel so good. I’m glad we’re outside because I’m going to make you scream.” You can only moan in response, too far gone with desire but, also a little shy.

How do I respond to that?

Your mind short circuits when Chan’s tongue licks a stripe up your folds, parting them a little and laying his tongue flat on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and you sigh, trying hard to keep your noises to a minimum.

It’s cold out but, you don’t feel it at all, your body temperature is at fever pitch and heating up more and more.

You’re dizzy with pleasure and Chan continues on, eating you out like a man starved.

He wraps his lips around your clit sucking lightly and moans as you cry out; his tongue continuing to drive you closer to release. His arms wrapped around your thighs holding your legs open. The noises he makes are lewd and if you’d been in your right mind you would have been so embarrassed.

Your chanting his name like a mantra now, begging him to make you cum.

Chan places one of his arms across you hips as you try to buck up into his mouth and you cry out, desperate for just a little more tension.

You only needed a little more.

“Please, pleasepleaseplease. Chan I’m begging you, please!” Your words come out garbled and your voice doesn’t even sound like your own, but Chan hears you.  

And since you asked so nicely…

Chan puts 2 fingers inside of you, curling them upwards just right as he sucks on your clit again, a little harsher this time.

He alternates between licking you and sucking, all the while pumping his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace. Your vision goes white as you cum hard, clamping down on his fingers and your eyes roll right back into your head.

You don’t have the time to feel embarrassed by how loud you’re crying out, completely lost in wanton passion.

But he doesn’t let up, even as you clamp down on him, spasming in orgasm he keeps up his speed only stopping with a kiss to your inner thighs when you beg him to stop.

You’re so sensitive.

“Did you like it Y/N?” He whispers it against your ear as you gasp for breath, trying to get composed.

“Yes.” You’re still out of breath but, that doesn’t phase Chan.  In fact, he loves it.

“I’m glad you liked it, but we’re not finished yet Y/N. You sound so pretty when you cum but, I didn’t get to see the face you make. I would love to see it so; I’m going to make you cum again. I’m going to fuck you now, would you like that Y/N? Would you like me to fuck you out here where anybody could see us?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and your breath catches.

You’re a little embarrassed but thrilled at the same time. God, he’s so hot.

I really want you to fuck me.

“How much do you want me to fuck you Y/N?” He sits back on his on his legs, watching you with dark, lustful eyes.

You prop yourself up on your arms, breathing heavily.

Chan begins to stroke himself, holding eye contact with you as he does it.

He’s rock hard, leaking precum and it catches the moonlight as it runs down his hand. It almost looks pretty.

You swallow and lick your lips. Your mouth’s watering but your throat is dry and the only thing you want to do is make Chan feel good.

Your mind is filled with nothing but him.

“So bad Chan, I want you so bad.” Chan’s hand stutters at your words and he decides that he’s tired of playing.

He reaches forward, picking you up and placing you in his lap again, you take his face in your hands and kiss him hungrily, almost desperately, whining as he grinds you down on his length.

Chan’s tongue fights yours for dominance and just like your recent fight, he wins. You gasp when he enters you.

Your so slick and so lost in pleasure, he slides right in and he moans low, at the sensation of you around him. He can’t hold himself back.

“Chan!” He’s desperate. He’s so worked up that he can barely control himself, slamming into you at a speed that shouldn’t be possible.

He ploughs into you, laying you back on the grass, so that he can grip your hips tightly and control the pace better. His hold is bruising but you don’t care, your hands are back in the grass head thrown back as you cry out again.

He knows you’re close but, he knows what will really push you over the edge.

“Oh, ohgod!” Your eyes roll back and you cry out. He circles his thumb around your clit.

Rubbing in time with his thrusts and you begin to beg.

You don’t care who hears you, you don’t even care who sees you; you just want Chan to make you cum.

Chan grunts low, his voice deep and gravely and he keeps pounding into you and the way his hips stutter let you know that he’s close too.

“Y/N, look at me. I want to see that beautiful face when you cum.” You open your eyes and the sight is the final push you need to release.

Chan’s thick hair clings with sweat to his forehead and sweat glistens all over his lean body. The light from the moon casts an ethereal glow around him and he blows you a kiss as you make eye contact; smirking at you cheekily.

You clamp down on him, your body going stiff and then snapping as your orgasm rushes through you, white hot. Your toes curl and your vision goes blank.

Distantly, you hear the sound of someone crying out and realise that it’s you.

Chan keeps rocking into you as you lose yourself in pleasure, your tight hold on him makes his orgasm hit him like a punch to the gut and he releases into you with a growl.

He collapses on top of you and rolls you both to the side, cradling you close.

It takes you some time but, eventually you both catch your breath and look at each other, giggling like a pair of kids.

“Don’t hide from me Y/N. I know you want to close off from me but, don’t. I’m your alpha, I want to take care of you.” This is it. Fear shoots through you like a branding iron and you suddenly want to run away.

But your wolf doesn’t want that, she’s content.

The 2 warring sides of your mind make you confused and you try to put some space between the two of you.

Chan’s not about to let that happen. He pins you down again and kisses you.

“Let me in Y/N. Please, let me in.” With pleading eyes, he unravels the last bit of your resolve and crumble. Chan doesn’t even flinch when you start crying,  he instead picks you up and cradles you in is arms.

“Tell me what’s wrong baby. Let me help you.”

“The only other wolf I knew is the one that turned me, and they abandoned me. I had to do all of this on my own. How do I know you won’t do the same?” He sits back to look you in the eye.

His eyes are shining with sincerity and fondness.

“I’m not them. No responsible person abandons someone who needs them. Good people don’t do that. Y/N, I live here, my pack lives here. My whole life is here, and I want you to be a part of it. I can promise you that I’m not going anywhere but words are cheap. Let me show you that I’m here for you.” Chan winks at you playfully and dries your eyes.

“You promise?” Even though you want to be sceptical, you’re hopeful instead.

“I promise. I told my pack all about you, and they can’t wait to meet you. You’ll love them.”

[palettepainter]

OMG SOMEONE ELSE WHO LOVES POWER LOADER! I am such a simp for this small man 👌😔 Can i please know more about his siblings?? The one you designed?? Also your Wctoplasm x Powerloader art is GORGEOUS!

On this blog we love our tiny little dirt gremlin, honestly glad to meet another fan of him cuz he’s so underrated!

These are the ideas so far I had for Powerloader and his family and his siblings! Got a good idea in mind for his mum and dad so will hopefully draw them out later, for now this ask will just include designs for his siblings

-So Powerloader is the oldest sibling. I’ve always liked the idea of Powerloader coming from a big family, having a more down to earth upbringing before he eventually went into the city and joined at UA when he was sixteen. His parents had Powwerloader when they where still quite young, his mother had just recently turned twenty and they where still building renovations on their home (his father like himself enjoyed building and as such brought some land to build their own home). Never the less Powerloader was happily welcomed by his parents despite being a total surprise and had a very happy childhood. The next child to come along was Powerloaders younger brother, Hono

-Hono and Powerloader as kids where typical brothers, They rough housed a lot in the yard while under the watchful eye of their dad as he worked. They both rolled around in dirt, climbed trees, and tried to bring snakes into the house giving their poor mother a heart attack. Typical kid things!~ Hono, being the younger brother by five years naturally couldn’t do all the stuff Higari could do, so when his big brother pushed a heavy box he couldn’t, or climbed up a tree to get his ball with ease Hono would think he was so cool! (though Powerloader had his times of tumbling out of trees as a kid-). Their dad in particular loved to wrestle with his sons after he was finished with work, he’d more or less let his sons win of course but if he was feeling particularly playful he’d grab Hono and Powerloader under his arms like they where sacks of potates and march around with them like that, prompting many giggles from them. After Hono turned four Powerloader and him where given twin siblings, and then seven years later a baby sister

(re-did the twins designs as I felt like the yellow hair was out of place, changed it to red/brown)

-Powerloaders dad started up a mechanic business when he had finished building the family home. Powerloaders family lived and still does live in a cozy villiage off in the country. It’s got a small population and little to no villian attacks, leading to it being very peaceful. With his dad running one of the only mechanic businesses in the area, and his dad also being very passionate about engineering they drummed up a bit of business. For safety incase the business went bust their mother went out and got a proper job, and with the combined money the family runs well - for a while. Still deicing how, but before Powerloader turns sixteen their father passes away at age fourty-one. Maybe this happens in like an accident or maybe he gets a sickness, still deciding. The death left their family in pieces, and their mother heavily distraught, and heavily pregnant with their youngest sister. After the passing of their father the business gradually begins to loose popularity, and the only source of income becomes their mothers day job, leading to Powerloader having to watch over his siblings until he mother came back from work, often late and looking very tired, which only became worse after Suru was born, their mother having to take a few months off work to raise Suru until she was old enough to be left with the other kids. Their mothers crumbling mental state led to Powerloader, the child who had to take on the most responsibility, developing a habit of tugging on his hair and biting his claws when stressed (this was based off @frelmidja heaedcannones, please go check out their stuff if you’re a powerloader fan anon!)

-Both Powerloader’s parents wanted a big family, and when their father was alive both parents set aside a portion of money each month, to go towards the children’s future. Sadly with his passing, they where only able to raise enough money for both Powerloader and Hono, and only a bit for the twins - after Powerloader turns sixteen his mother hands him the save up money that herself and his father had collected for him. Powerloader’s dad also had a passion for inventing, and absolutely let his son tag along with his when he was in his work shop, and so wanted to make sure that if he wanted to peruse engineering at an elite school like UA, he’d have the chance too. It took a lot of persuasion from his mother, but after a tearful moment Higari agrees to go live in the city with relatives and apply for UA’s support course. Higari left for the city when Hono eleven, leaving him as the oldest child. His mother assured Higari they would be fine, but things aren’t fine. After loosing her husband, and now loosing her eldest child who’s now staying up in the city, their mother falls back into her downward spiral, leading to her to sometimes not be able to properly care for Higari’s siblings. Hono was confused and wasn’t sure what to do, he’d always turned to Higari for guidance, now he was alone. Hono grows up angry and violent after this, believing that Higari ditched them to start a better life without them. Hono takes on the responsibilities to care for his other siblings, and at times his mother. He had to grow up fast to care for his family, further making him angry towards his brother, who had it easy up at that decked out snobby school. He utterly despises his older brother now but deep deep deep down he just really missed him:

 Hono grows up a tempermental youth, coming off as strict and cold even to his own family - little letters from Higari make him believe he’s forgotten about them all together, leading to Hono sneaking off to the local junk yard to let off steam with his quirk. One day, Hono doesn’t get out of the way in time of his explosion, and ends up getting a big burn on the side of his body when he was twenty-six, also leading to him loosing most of his hearing in one of his ears (he doesn’t like to talk about this)

-The cost of Hono’s treatment for his burns was another loss to the family financially, as their mother lost her job due to her being unable to meet up with the jobs demands, which meant the cost of his treatment had to come out of the money their father had saved up for them. While Hono recovered the twins the twins took up part time work at a pub while their mother continued search for a job in the city. Once she did the twins quit their jobs at the pub and reopened their fathers mechanic business to be closer to home. Taiho taking priority of the prices for payment and parts and Chikara taking the role as actual engineer. After Hono had recovered from his burns he became much more softer towards his family, though the injury was a scare to himself and the family, it did open up Hono’s eyes for how immature he was being, and ever since began to act more like a proper role model for his siblings. While the twins and his mother have their jobs, Hono manages the house work and looking after their youngest sister. He teaches her the ropes of mechanics like their father once did to Higari and then Higari to him. Hono takes Suru under his wing, treating her with a lot more care with her being the youngest, so he feels naturally protective of her. The two handled the cooking and up keeping of the home and yard up until their mother retired, when Hono then went out to take up a demolition job and Suru began to work in the mechanic business alongside Taiho and Chakara

Those are all my main story points but here are some more minor points I may work more on in the future with their story:

-The family own a dog named Benji,He’s an old dog now so spends most of his days curled up by the fire, but they all love him

-All of the Maijima children have some kind of scar of injury. Higari’s digging claws are scratched and slightly chipped in parts where he would bite on them when he was nervous, Hono has a scar over his side, Taiho has a scar over his nose, Chakara has a torn ear and Suru many little scars and scrapes from her time working in the mechanic business

-All of the siblings in a way, minus Suru, are envious of Higari to some degree. While Higari got to go off and go to UA, be a hero, persure a career he loves and even get married and settle down, they all had to sacrifice their own goals and dreams to support their family. The twins never voice this as to not be rude but Hono is very open about this

-Hono hates Ectoplasm with the heat of a thousand suns. Hates hates HATES him. He thinks Ectoplasm stole away their brother and was the reason why Higari never came back, he often gives Ectoplasm the silent treatment on the rare occasions he and Higari come to visit.

-Their quirks are:

Hono - Landmine,  Landmine allows the user to bestow explosive properties on anything they’ve touched. The explosions could be detonated at will. The explosives they create are noted to not be very strong, but they’re still powerful enough to deal a lot of damage to a person if they’re used in numbers

Taiho - Cannon ball (made up quirk), he can roll himself into a perfect ball and launch themselves into objects at high speeds while sustaining little damage. 

Chakara - Super strength, name speaks for itself, she has super strength on the same level as Higari, only person thus far to beat him in an arm wrestling match

Suru - Blowtorch (made up), can produce flames from the metal caps on the ends of her fingers, she can control how hot, large and powerful these flames are 

[smallheathgangsters]

Business Deal (Part Three)

Header made by the amazing @flowers-in-your-hayr 🌻

A/N: I’m so excited about this mini series and I hope you are exicted with me! Part four will hopefully be uploaded next week or at the beginning of the week after. Please enjoy and leave some feedback! ❤️ Excuse any mistakes, I try my best to make as little as possible. :)

Tag List: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @tranquility-or-chaos​ @zodiyack @claire-loves-music @cubedtriangle

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3264

Type: angst, violence, a lot of swearing

------------------------------------------------------------------

You came back to consciousness only a few minutes after breaking down in front of Tommy’s betting shop and realised that your father’s men had carried you to a car and laid you on the back seat.

After pushing yourself up, you massaged your temples with closed eyes and tried to process everything that had happened in the last half hour. The graphic images flashed before your eyes that were shut tightly. The men storming in, the hands grabbing and pulling you carelessly, almost violently. Tommy being pushed to the floor. The fists and feet punching and kicking him. The blood.

And lastly, yourself. Yourself going absolutely crazy by shattering a glass against the wall and slapping the Shelby man across the face, as if he hadn’t been hurt enough.

Although, maybe he deserved it. Maybe he deserved worse for murdering your father and not even doing it himself. For sending his helpers like the coward he was, giving your father the least honourable death, he could have ever wished for. Your father would’ve never went to heaven. He’d done a lot of bad things in his life and caused a lot of pain. But he’d always done the dirty work himself, having to live with the consequences and only ever taking men with him for backup and assistance, not to do it for him.

That was one of the many reasons he’d been able to achieve such a great following. He was a man who people admired, apart from the horrible side of it.

You opened your eyes when you stopped massaging your temples and leaned forward to the two men in front of you, one of them driving the car. “Where are we going?”

“We’re bringing you home,” you heard Gerald say. He was steering the automobile.

“Did you kill Tommy?”

You saw him shake his head.

You frowned, surprised by his answer. “You didn’t? Why not?”

Gerald sent you a quick glance over his shoulder. His expression was confused. “You wanted us to finish him? I thought you’d be happy we didn’t.”

You let out an irritated scoff. “Why the fuck would I be happy?”

Gerald shrugged. “I thought you were like in love or something.”

“In love or something!?” you exclaimed outraged. “Bloody hell, Gerald! He killed my father! Why on earth would I still be in love with him?”

“So, you were in love before we stepped into that filthy betting shop?”

“Fuck off,” you grumbled and pushed yourself back into the seat. You saw the man next to Gerald on the passenger side turn around and give you a curious look. That made you realise that you didn’t only know your driver, but his companion as well. Ben.

“What are you staring at?” you said to him, annoyed by his invasive gaze. Your mother had always hinted at you that Ben might like you but was too scared to come forward because in the end, you were his boss’s daughter and he wasn’t just any kind of boss.

Ben immediately turned his head back to face the road. “Nothing, sorry.”

“Do you want us to go back and get him?”

“Tommy?” you asked. Gerald nodded. “We can send some boys to go back, pick him up and bring him to the mansion.”

You thought for a second. Having him at your house would give you some time to talk to him in private. Maybe you’d be able to find out what exactly had happened and what your father had done that made him get himself killed.

You started chewing on your lip. Since waking up from your black out you hadn’t yet shed a tear for your father’s passing. You felt bad because you loved him very much but the only thing you were able to think about was what had taken place between Tommy and him and what you’d do to Tommy if you’d have him in your control.

Your whole behaviour was the absolutely opposite of what you’d sworn yourself to be. Your promise to yourself and your future children to not follow into your fathers’ steps. To bring as much distance between his business, his lifestyle and yours. But the anger and rage in your body was too intense to ignore, to not act upon it.

“You know what, Gerald? Get him.”

Gerald nodded again. “I’ll send someone when we’re at your house. It’s not much further.”

He was right. Only a few minutes later the automobile rolled onto the large driveway with the pretty fountain in the middle. Thousands of roses graced the sides of the front yard. Pink ones, because they were your favourite. Your father had immediately called some gardeners to replace the red ones when he found out, that you preferred pink roses.

The car halted and you jumped out the back seat before Ben was able to open the door for you. You saw how Gerald leaned in to one of the men guarding your home, whispering something in his ear, most likely sending him off to the betting shop. With long strides you walked towards the entrance of your house, again pushing open the door yourself before Ben could get it for you.

The second you stepped into the entrance, the body of your mother flung itself against you, wrapping you into a lavender-scented embrace. Her slender arms felt as if they were trying to crush your ribs, making it hard for you to catch your breath.

“Mum …” you breathed out, signalling her that she was hugging you a little too hard. That made her loosen her grip but erupt into tears instead.

Your heart broke for your mother. She may be a gangster wife and daughter with a hard shell, but her core wasn’t. It was caring, soft and motherly. And you both knew what the death of your father meant. It meant that if they didn’t want to lose their influential position in the city, country even, your mother had to take over his place.

“I’m going to help you,” you said with a shaky voice, your eyes getting misty too. Hearing and seeing your mother cry shattered your heart. She didn’t deserve this.

You felt your mother nod against your shoulder, where she had placed her head. You knew she knew what you’d meant with that.

Your mother eventually peeled herself off of your body and looked at you with puffy, red eyes. But nevertheless, her expression was strong. Fierce even. “We’ll make these bastards pay.”

“We’ll be a great team, mum,” you assured her. “We’ll make father proud. There is no way we’re losing this fight or our position.”

That was the moment you let go of everything you stood for. With this statement you had committed yourself to taking over and helping your mother with your father’s business and there was no way out from here. But in that exact moment, you didn’t even think about the consequences.

You gave your mother another loving hug. Then you grabbed her hand and breathed in slowly. “Mum … where is he?”

Your mother gulped, trying to hold back another wave of tears. “S– still in his office, where he got shot.”

“He got shot in his office?!” you exclaimed loudly. “How was that possible?”

There was no way for somebody outside of your father’s inner circle to get into the house. All your entrances were either locked and barricaded, so nobody was able to get in or at least two men guarded them. Except …

“We’ve got a mole, Y/N,” your mother said, her voice now stronger again. “There wasn’t a break in or any of that kind. Nothing was damaged and there weren’t any noises that would’ve alerted me. I was here the whole time.”

“A mole?” you hissed. “Who? Do we know who?”

“No, not yet. But we’re at it.”

You huffed. “How the fuck are we going to find him if he’s among the men that should be detecting him?”

“I only told Gerald, we can trust him,” you mother said, trying to calm down your raging self. But it was no use. You didn’t trust anybody. Not since today happened. How would you know that Gerald was trustworthy? Not to mention that he had been the one to let Tommy live instead of killing right him on the spot, a decision that had been rather strange compared to the usual manner they had.

“Fuck Gerald,” you spat. “I’ll take care of this matter myself. The only person I trust at the moment is you, mum. And you shouldn’t be trusting anybody else than me. I don’t want something happening to you as well.”

“But–“ she started, but you interrupted her. “No, mum, no buts.”

Your mother knew you were right. You couldn’t risk anything, especially being women. Men, often looked down at you, underestimating your skills and knowledge and you weren’t going to let that happen. Most importantly not when it came to your father’s subordinates.

You were about to storm off when something on your mind stopped you. Your turned back to your mother and grabbed both her hands with yours, squeezing them comfortingly.

“D– did you find him?” you asked carefully, internally hoping strongly that it hadn’t been your mother who had discovered his body.

She shook her head, making you exhale deeply. “Thank god.”

She gave you a weak smile. “Please be careful, darling.”

“I will,” you promised her and then hurried down the hall. You weren’t paying attention at all when you ran towards your father’s office, suddenly crashing into somebody with full force. You had been preoccupied with your thoughts of what you’d witness when stepping into the office, that you didn’t see the person approaching you.

You inhaled sharply, trying to suppress the pain the collision had caused you.

“I’m so sorry, Miss, I wasn’t looking,” you heard a masculine voice mumble apologetically. A hand reached for your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” you answered, looking up at the man you’d bumped into. Ben.

For fuck’s sake. He was the last person you wanted to see. His intense gaze on you made you feel uncomfortable once again and look past him into the direction of your father’s bureau. “I need to get going, Ben. Could you please let go of my shoulder?”

“Oh, of course, Miss. I’m sorry,” he apologised instantly, pulling back his hand. “I’ll be available if you ever need something. I understand that this is a hard time for you.”

Your instincts wanted to tell Ben to get away from you as far as possible, but your brain suddenly had an idea. Including Ben.

You mouth formed a wide, fake smile for him. “You know what, Ben? There is something I need your help with.”

“Y- yes?”

Ben seemed confused. Understandably though, since you’d never given him any attention and usually were very harsh with him, trying to get across your disinterest in him.

You nodded cheekily and grabbed his hand. Another puzzled glance from Ben. “Am I in trouble?”

You laughed. “No, Ben. Just trust me.”

Your inner self huffed at your choice of words. Trust. But you kept up the act and pulled him down the hallway, past your father’s office to the large door to the sitting room where you’d met Tommy Shelby for the first time.

“In here,” you said, pushing open the door, leading him inside and closing it behind him right away.

Ben stood in the middle of the room cluelessly. “What are we doing here, Miss?” he asked and frowned, looking around and probably trying to find something that would help him understand the strange situation.

You walked towards him and let your fingers run up the hem of his suit jacket. “A little birdy told me that it’s hard for you to keep your eyes off me?”

You heard him gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he did. “Who said that?”

You gave him a disappointed look. A fake one, of course. “Are you telling me you don’t like the way I look?”

“N– no, not at all!” Ben stuttered, not really knowing how to react to your sudden approach.

“It was my mum,” you admitted, truthfully this time. “I don’t think my mother would lie to me.”

Your words made him even more insecure. “I didn’t intend on calling your mother a liar, please forgive me.”

“It’s alright, Ben,” you purred, looking up at him sweetly. Your hands wandered from the hem to the back of his neck, interlocking your fingers behind it. “As you know, my former love interest was beaten up badly for giving the order to kill my father and now I don’t have anybody who can cheer me up in this sad time …”

You pouted at him. With your hands around his neck you could feel his initial tenseness slowly go away. Finally, you had made him regain his confidence.

“Cheer you up, Miss?”

“Please, call me Y/N,” you said, winking at him quickly. He grinned and lifted his hands up to place his hands on your waist. “Something particular in mind, Y/N?”

You nodded and crashed your lips on his without thinking much. You felt sick to your stomach when you did that, every part of your body wanting to resist. But no matter how much you wanted to get away from this man, you maintained your act, not showing him the internal feeling of disgust that took over every fibre.

He moved his lips against yours and you tried your best to not tense up, letting him grip you harder and pulling you against his chest.

“Do you know how my father got killed?” you asked in between kisses, trying to keep him from pressing his lips to yours.

“Something about a mole?” he murmured, pulling your head closer to his again.

“So, you know about the mole?” you questioned before his lips were able to touch yours. You took a step back. Ben shook his head. “It’s what I heard Gerald say.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t know his name then?”

He denied and came towards you again, gripping your hips. You suppressed a groan when he touched you and unwillingly let him pin you against the wall.

“You’re really pretty,” he breathed against your neck, placing a kiss on it. You pressed your lips together, concentrating on the reason why were tolerating all of this.

“Don’t you have some insider information? Maybe somebody that has been acting suspiciously lately?”

You felt him sigh against your skin. “With a job like this you always notice strange behaviour going on.”

Ben trailed kisses along your jawline and let his fingers tangle into your hair. “Are you sure you can’t name someone who stood out to you? Or to Gerald? Did he mention something?”

“Why do you keep digging?” he suddenly asked, pulling away from your neck. He looked down at you with a strange look on his face. “I thought you wanted to get your mind off of things?”

“I do, but I’d feel much safer if I knew,” you admitted. Ben chuckled. “Don’t worry sweetheart. We have everything under control, it’s nothing a lovely lady like you should need to worry about.”

You scoffed internally. That had been the exact reason why you’d decided against simply walking up to Ben and asking him about conspicuous behaviour and events in your home and between the men working for your father. No matter how much he’d respected his boss, he’d never seen you as more than just the daughter they had to protect. Not as an equal with just as much brain as your father.

“If you tell me, I’ll show you a little more of myself,” you whispered seductively, running your tongue over your lips slowly. His eyes were fixed on them.

You reached down and grabbed the material of your dress, hiking it up your leg and revealing half of your thigh. “What do you say, Ben?”

“Fuck,” he grunted, connecting your lips again. He started letting his hand wander under your dress, suddenly grabbing your bum.

Your hand reflexively pushed it away. “Still didn’t hear a name, Ben.”

He let out a suppressed moan, moving his hand down again, but still having it resting on your thigh. “Chester. Chester Gordon.”

That was all you needed.

You knew exactly who Chester was. He had been your father’s main right hand next to Gerald. While Gerald had been with your father since before you were born, Chester had only just joined a few months ago. Still, something about the knowledge or the skill he had helped him get the powerful position, given to him by your father.

Without much thought your quick hand sneaked its way under Ben’s jacket and grabbed the gun in his holster, pulling it out. Before he was able to resist or protest, he had the barrel pressed against the skin under his chin. “Get the fuck away from me or I’ll shoot your brains out.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he breathed surprised and annoyed at the same time. He tried to grab your wrist and bring the gun away from his face, but you cocked the gun, making him pull his hand away immediately. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing! That’s a loaded gun, you stupid bitch!” he hissed angrily, but still too afraid to move. He thought you’ve never held a gun before. The way he was constantly underestimating you made you fume. “You’re fucking disrespectful, Ben. I said, get the fuck out of here and go tell Gerald to meet me in the back yard. I’ll have something I need to talk to him about.”

Ben inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth together. You saw him open his mouth to let out another insult, but you beat him to it. “Shut your mouth and do as I said.”

He scoffed but stepped back. Then he hurried out of the sitting room, adjusting his jacket before opening the room and entering the hallway.

When Ben was gone, you let out a shaky breath. Your hand was trembling. The façade you’d been keeping up for the last twenty minutes hand taken a toll on you. But you knew it wasn’t over just yet. You had to suck it up and finish what you’d planned on doing. Especially since you’d threatened Ben and made him look like a wimp.

You inhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves and then followed Ben out of the sitting room but turning into the other direction instead. Chester’s office was three doors down from your father’s. You counted your way along the hall and eventually ended up in front of the one you aimed for.

You knew you didn’t have much time to think about what you were about to do. If you did, you probably wouldn’t pull through with it and you couldn’t risk failing. So, you pushed all worries and fears aside and burst into the office.

Chester was sat at his desk, hovering over a stack of papers, a pen in his left hand. His head shot up when the door slammed against the wall forcefully, eyes wide in surprise. He tried pushing himself up from his chair, but he didn’t get that far. You had already lifted the arm that was gripping the cocked gun and pulled the trigger.

A loud bang filled the air and the bullet hit Chester perfectly between his eyes. A clean shot. One that your father would have been proud of.

[carewyncromwell]

Back with another installment of the POTC AU...and we have entered mermaid (and men) waters, folks. These two lovely creatures are Merman!Kai Williams and Mermaid!Keira Jones, owned by @hphm-brooke, based on their designs here, but with more of the “fishy” look the mermaids have while underwater in Pirates 4! (They look much more like Brooke’s concepts, when they’re above water.) I hope I did your kids justice, cherie! Yes, I know this visual logically doesn’t work at all as neat as it looks, since Carewyn should be drowning if there’s a hole in the ship she can see through: I was stupid and half asleep when I originally drew this, but I went ahead and conjured up an explanation for it for the actual writing section, so indulge me. XD;;

Some LGBT+ headcanons of mine for the HPHM cast are also featured here -- namely, McNully as gay, Skye as lesbian, and Charlie as aroace. (I also personally see Carewyn and Orion as ace/pan and gray-A, respectively. ^.^) Feel free to ignore them if you see these characters differently than I do...goodness knows I understand why plenty of people would want to hook up with Charlie!! He can always be interpreted as demi, gray-A, or just a late bloomer here too, if thou dost prefer. <3

For the previous part of this AU, click here -- for the full POTC AU tag, click here -- otherwise, enjoy! And beware any siren song you may hear...

x~x~x~x

The Revenge was an even more oppressive prison than it was when Carewyn was a child. Charles Cromwell had always been a very controlling, cruel man who only saw someone’s value based on what they could do for him. Even when you were family of his -- or, one could argue, especially if you were -- you were expected to never say “no” to him and to always put his desires over your own. So it was when she and Jacob were under his control way back when, and so it was now that Carewyn was alone.

Interestingly, despite Charles’s clear disdain for Carewyn having become a Commodore of the Navy, he actually seemed very coldly pleased by how she’d grown.

“The Navy may be a pathetic institution,” Charles said very coolly as he strode leisurely in a circle around Carewyn, “but at least fighting in the War toughened you up. You’re strong -- ruthless -- talented in swordplay and willing to do whatever it takes to defeat your enemies. You’ve been taught and trained to kill.”

He stopped right in front of her, his cold almond-shaped blue eyes boring into her as his lips spread into a smile.

“You are far from the weak, bleeding-heart little girl you were before, Carewyn. Before, you could only be useful in persuading other men to join my crew -- now, once we’ve finished at Isle de Muerta...you’ll be able to join your aunts by doing that and helping us with our plunder.”

Carewyn’s eyes, which were the same color and shape as Charles’s, met his gaze head-on with just as much coldness, but with no hint of a smile.

“I have no intention of being anything like Pearl or Claire,” she spat, “least of all by being one of your pawns.”

Pearl made a violent move forward, but Blaise grabbed her arm and gave her a dull warning look.

“Pawns?” repeated Charles. “I’m wounded, child. We are family -- we are blood. I raised you and your brother. I provided for you.”

“After killing both Mum and Dad right in front of us,” Carewyn said very coldly.

Charles feigned an empathetic expression, but it only came across as incredibly condescending.

“Yes -- it was a horrible thing. But your parents thought to abandon the crew, our family...to take you two children away from me, your grandfather, who loves you so dearly. And deserters and traitors must be held accountable -- any good leader knows that. It’s awful that it had to happen...but they left me no choice.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed with hatred.

“First of all...our parents thought to protect their family -- Jacob and me -- from you. Second, any good leader knows that true loyalty is accrued through respect, not fear. Third, you always have a choice to do what’s right, and you didn’t. Fourth, I will NOT hear you try to tell me that my parents brought their deaths upon themselves when you pulled the trigger. And fifth...”

She took a step forward, aiming to get right up in Charles’s face -- Claire Cromwell grabbed her harshly by the arm and held her back, but Carewyn was strong enough to push herself forward right up into her grandfather’s personal space anyway.

“...you don’t know what love is,” hissed Carewyn venomously.

Charles’s face lost all hint of a smile or warmth, instead becoming oddly mask-like and detached as he considered her. The stillness was far, far more intimidating than his attempts at pleasantry -- it was like he truly felt nothing...like all possibility of persuasion or appealing to his better instincts was hopeless.

“It seems freedom has spoiled you, my child,” he said softly. “I suppose I’d have to blame your brother for being such a bad influence on you...at least while he was still alive.”

Carewyn’s face blanched and her eyes widened. ‘What?’

“Oh?” said Charles, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. “Were you unaware? I thought for sure something would’ve trickled back to you through the Navy. But I suppose if they had told you, you’d have had far less reason to be loyal to them. After all...the pirate who killed him ended up getting a full pardon from the crown, and now works alongside the new Lord Cutler Beckett at the East India Trading Company...a thoroughly prosperous woman, by all accounts.”

Charles’s face again grew much mask-like as he stared down at Carewyn.

“One would never know such a woman could be capable of shooting a man square in the back and then pushing him overboard into the ocean...and just when he’d returned from Port Royal, to find that his sister was gone...”

Carewyn could feel her shoulders quaking. Her eyes had fallen away from Charles and down to the deck a while ago, as she struggled to contain her emotions, but what he said --

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. Jacob, dead -- Jacob, having gone to look for her, and not finding her because she’d gone off to War -- Jacob, being murdered right after he tried to come home --

“You’re lying!” snarled Carewyn, but her voice quaked with pain and grief despite her best efforts.

Charles didn’t answer. Clearly he didn’t think he had to. The silence was infinitely worse than if he’d chosen to mock her further -- it forced her to solely focus on the terrible doubt and pain flooding her chest and making it hard for her to breathe.

Charles’s gaze flickered up to Claire still holding Carewyn’s arm.

“Get Carewyn out of that Navy filth and into some proper clothes,” he said almost boredly. “Make sure to pick something that shows off her assets -- she comes from fine breeding, and we want the men of Tortuga to see that first.”

His gaze then rested on Carewyn again, twinkling with a cruel kind of satisfaction, as Claire yanked Carewyn away. Carewyn fought against her grip, but before she could pull out of it, Pearl grabbed her other arm and, with considerably more strength, helped Claire drag her away.

Carewyn was soon forced into a pair of men’s knee breeches so tight that they felt more like form-fitting stockings than trousers; tall black boots; an off-white sailor’s shirt identical to Pearl’s with such an oversized neckline that her chest was largely exposed; and an R-standard dark red coat just small enough that she couldn’t button it around herself to hide her chest better. Pearl had also pointed a pistol at Carewyn’s neck while Claire applied eye-make-up and bright red lipstick. Carewyn normally wouldn’t have minded wearing make-up -- she may have had to dress like a man out of necessity, but she liked women’s fashion a lot. Under the circumstances, though, it was impossible to enjoy it.

Needless to say, Carewyn was in no mood to take orders from Charles or exchange so much as a word with any member of his crew, whether it was her uncle, aunts, cousins, or in-laws. At one point, one night, one of those such cousins -- clearly very amused by how unhappy Carewyn was with her new “look” -- decided to try to force himself into her personal space, and Carewyn was so disgusted that she grabbed his own pistol out of his belt and pointed it right at his head to threaten him to back off. Rather than scare him, though, the cousin merely laughed.

“Go ahead!” he jeered. He clearly thought Carewyn was too much of a “good girl” to do it. “Go ahead and shoot me. Right in the head, come on -- ”

Carewyn pointed the pistol down at his thigh instead and fired.

BANG.

The younger man collapsed in on himself with a cry as his leg collapsed out from under him, the bone clearly blasted open from how close the pistol had been. Carewyn then gave the pistol a light shake to clear the smoke.

“Seems to me that place is closer to where you do most of your thinking than your head,” she said very coldly. She looked around at the rest of the crew, who’d stopped to watch, and added, “Now, all of you, stay away from me -- AHH!”

She suddenly felt a hand seize her around the neck and hoist her up off the ground.

The younger man somehow was back on his feet again, as if he hadn’t been injured at all. Carewyn’s shock only seemed to make him smugger still, even though his smile was oddly humorless.

“You’re so cute, little Winnie,” he said. “Thinking you can hurt somebody who feels nothing but pain already.”

At that very moment, the clouds parted, to reveal an eerie silver-white moon. And it was in that terrible, paralyzing moment that Carewyn saw why everyone said that the crew of the Revenge was cursed.

It seems that the medallion Jacob had stolen from Charles’s office wasn’t just a pirate trinket. It was one of 100 identical pieces from a cursed chest that once belonged to Cortez himself. Anyone who stole but one piece from the chest was cursed trapped between life and death, unable to enjoy any earthly pleasure -- food, drink, or otherwise -- with their true decaying form only revealed under moonlight. Jacob had taken the medallion with the thought that Carewyn could always sell it if they ever got really desperate for money -- Carewyn had kept it because it was one of the only things Jacob had ever been able to give her before he disappeared, and she cursed herself eternally for the sentiment now. Still, she told herself, it also hadn’t seemed safe to try to sell something that so clearly looked like a pirate medallion anyway -- just about anyone would ask where she got it, and that would’ve opened her up to a million more questions. In either case, that medallion Carewyn had was the last piece that Charles Cromwell needed to break the curse -- and thanks to her fame as the newest Commodore in the Navy, one of her portrait miniatures had found its way into Charles’s hands, revealing to him where his granddaughter had vanished to. And now he had both her and the medallion -- in short, everything he’d wanted.

Charles Cromwell decided to punish Carewyn for her little act of defiance by locking her in the brig. It was a very wet and mildew-stained place -- clearly it had been host to more than a few leaks. One hole in Carewyn’s cell in particular even showed clear blue ocean water -- she suspected that the Revenge had been patched up with quite a few spells to keep it from sinking, over the years. She remembered there was a witch on Tortuga that her grandfather sometimes made deals with -- maybe she’d given him something to keep the sea water from rushing in.

Carewyn could’ve easily broken out of the brig, but under the circumstances, she decided it wasn’t worth it. Not only did she not want to show off all her tricks yet, but the cell door would at least serve as a barrier between her and everyone else, for now. And that was what she’d wanted -- to get as far away from them as she could. Jacob would’ve understood. Jacob had always been there as a protective wall between her and the rest of their family, in the past...

The night in that cell was one of the coldest, darkest, and loneliest of Carewyn’s life. Her heart ached at the thought of Jacob -- of Percy, his face white with upset and terror when she told him to retreat -- of Bill and Charlie -- of Jules. She missed them so much, and yet she knew...she would likely never see them again. Charles Cromwell wouldn’t tolerate her insubordination for long, and if she failed to escape -- rather likely, considering that neither he nor the rest of her family could be killed, at this point -- she’d be murdered just like her parents.

...At least then...she’d see Jacob again...

She didn’t know when or how she’d fallen to sleep, but it was in her sleep, when she was most lonely, that Carewyn found herself again in her and Jacob’s tiny, old house in Port Royal, sitting at the side of her own bed, which currently held a young man with a worn brown bandana around his head, a black eye, and bandages around his arms. He looked up at her, his dark eyes rippling like the darkest sea -- and then, he rose from the bed. As he did, he changed, becoming older, with tanner skin and dreadlocks under an emerald green bandana. Orion didn’t say anything in the dream -- instead he held her gaze, drowning her in it as he gently held her hands in his...

When Carewyn awoke, she found her face wet with tears. Wiping her face clean, she sat awake for a while, revisiting Orion in her mind. As bizarre as it sounded -- just like he had many times in the past -- the thought of Orion seemed to bring her a sense of peace and focus she couldn’t quite explain. And it was for that reason that she found herself singing one of the songs she used to sing Orion to sleep, all those years ago...for the thought of him, if not for the man himself.

Abroad, as I was walking one evening in the spring,

I heard a maid in Bedlam who mournfully did sing.

Her chains she rattled on her hands, and thus replied she:

"I love my love because I know my love loves me.

Oh, cruel were his parents who sent my love to sea,

And cruel was the ship that bore my love from me --

Yet I love his parents since they’re his, although they've ruined me...

I love my love because I know my love loves me.” 

As luck would have it, however, her song attracted some attention. For the waters surrounding the dreaded Isle de Muerta contained merfolk -- specifically a mermaid called Keira and a merman called Kai, who hunted as a pair and had heard Carewyn singing through the hole in the ship’s hull.

“Was that you singing?” asked Kai. He seemed the more sociable of the two -- the red-haired mermaid behind him called Keira was staying at a distance.

Carewyn rested a hand beside the hole, trying to peek out at who was speaking. She couldn’t see them very well, but from what little she could see, they didn’t look like how she’d always heard mermaids described. They appeared human enough on top, of course, but she could see scales on their faces and there was no white in their eyes. Kai had one completely brown eye and one completely blue eye, while Keira had completely blue.

“Yes,” said Carewyn.

“I could hear the longing in your voice,” said Kai. “Like a woman in love.”

Carewyn’s face flushed, but she kept as proud of an expression as she could manage.

“...Are you merfolk?”

“Why, yes,” said Kai with a smile. “And you? Are you a pirate? Or perhaps you’re a maid from Bedlam, awaiting her love’s return?”

“Neither. My name is Carewyn...but most people call me Carey Weasley.”

Keira looked at Carewyn through the hole, clearly interested despite her distance.

“You’re different than the other humans on this ship,” she said thoughtfully.

Carewyn scoffed. “I’d certainly hope so. I suppose my grandfather and his crew fear you?”

“Fear, yes,” said Keira in an oddly stiff voice, “but we don’t approach them.”

The memory of her disgusting pirate cousin as a molting skeleton rippled over Carewyn’s mind and she grimaced.

“...I don’t blame you for that. I wouldn’t be here either, if I had a choice.”

Kai raised a curious eyebrow. “You’re a prisoner, then.”

Carewyn sighed and nodded. Kai’s eyes flickered over to Keira before returning to Carewyn.

“...Perhaps we can get you out.”

Carewyn was startled. “What?”

Kai’s lips turned up in a smile. “Come with us...we’ll help you escape.”

It was strange -- Carewyn hadn’t known these two at all, but something in their voices sounded so kind. Despite everything she’d ever heard about sirens, they seemed oddly persuasive...it was like even they were singing beautifully, even while talking...

But...

“No,” she said. “My grandfather and his crew can’t be killed. I’d never be able to defeat them, while they’re like that...and anyone who tried to help me would be killed right along with me.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you...but I have to stay here.”

Both Kai and Keira looked genuinely startled. Kai seemed to rest on his stomach in mid-air, his tail flopping up over his head as he rested his chin on his fist, his lips spreading in a much fuller, fanged smirk.

“...Well, now,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone saying ‘no’ to one of our kind in order to protect them before. He shared a glance with Keira. “You truly are different, Carey Weasley.”

Keira exhaled tiredly. “Come on, Kai...let’s go.”

“Coming, coming,” said Kai in amusement, as Keira began to swim off. He added to Carewyn, “Guess we’ll never know if we would’ve been able to tempt you, if we’d met you above water...oh well. Best of luck, little Bedlam maid -- thanks for the new song!”

Kai swam in a circle to follow along after Keira and disappeared into the dark blue depths.

Back on the Artemis, the days of their voyage dragged. Jules had heard all sorts of exciting stories about pirates since she was a child, but now that she was onboard a ship with them, she found that it was far less glamorous than one would think. There was so little to do to pass the time, aside from trimming sails or swabbing decks. Charlie and Bill admitted that was a lot of what sailing on board ships was like in general -- there was plenty of excitement, sure, but only inter-spliced briefly between long stretches of nothing. On top of that, the water on board went sour before long, making it so everyone had to drink rum instead, since it was the only drink that didn’t go bad at sea. The best thing by far for Jules, though, was that there was no dress code -- and so she ditched her fancy dress as quick as she could, traded them in for a pair of men’s breeches, and then belted her chemise around her waist so that it fit more tightly like a shirt. She’d be a little embarrassed walking around in her underwear for a while, but after a while, she concluded it really wasn’t any more revealing than the loose-fitting shirt and men’s breeches Skye was wearing. Bill’s ears turned a very dark red when he first saw Jules out of her dress, though.

Their first real burst of action came when they had to battle a torrential storm that had blown in. The Artemis had been tossed about as if it were a toy in a bathtub, sea water splashing onto the deck with full-bodied waves that could knock a man off their feet. It was likely only thanks to Orion’s bizarre idea to tie everyone securely to the mast with a long piece of rope that served as a life line that no one was thrown overboard. The following day, the storm had fortunately cleared to leave an almost surreal calm. Soon everyone returned to the boring routine of before, mending torn sails and swabbing the deck, as if nothing had even happened.

The helmsman solely followed Orion’s direction of where to go, rather than using a map, so Bill, Jules, and Charlie had assumed he already knew where the Isle de Muerta was. One could therefore imagine how horrified Bill was overhearing McNully talking offhandedly to Orion one afternoon about his compass “not working right for him” -- Jules recalled that it didn’t work at Port Royal either. When the three confronted Orion about it, the Captain responded rather cryptically.

“Lieutenant Weasley said that my compass didn’t point north, Miss Farrier. That doesn’t mean it’s broken.”

Orion turned on his heel and headed back up to the helm. “A bit more to starboard.”

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but McNully climbed down one of the loose ropes enough to pat his shoulder.

“Easy, Mr. Weasley.”

He lowered himself back down into his chair and rolled it around to properly face them.

“The Captain’s compass isn’t like most compasses -- just like Orion himself isn’t like most captains.”

“But you said it wasn’t working right,” Charlie said angrily. “And all he ever seems to look at is that compass. How do we know we’re even heading the right way? Does he even know how to get to Isle de Muerta at all?”

Jules had to admit, she had doubts too. Orion had sounded pretty confident that he’d be able to find Carewyn -- but how could anyone do that, when they didn’t even have a compass that could point north?

The dispute was interrupted, however, when Orion abruptly called out from the helm.

“Put out the lamps!”

The crew immediately tensed up, and bolted around, putting out every lamp. Jules looked around in confusion.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “It’s almost dusk -- we won’t be able to see!”

“The water is darker and colder here,” said Orion solemnly, “and there’s a song on the air. The lamps would only antagonize them further.”

“‘Them?’“ recurred Jules.

“Mermaids, of course,” said Skye impatiently.

“Mermaids?”

“I heard those tales when we were all in the Navy,” said Bill, glancing at Jules a bit uneasily. “Mermaids are attracted to singing and lamplight.”

"Right,” said McNully. “There’s still a 32% chance they might show up even without those, though, so you’d best keep your wits about you.”

Skye nodded. “Mermaids are no joke. They might look beautiful above water, but they don’t look half so pretty under the water when they pull you down to the depths and eat you alive.”

Jules cringed.

“If they’re that dangerous,” she said slowly, “why don’t you do what Odysseus did, to escape the sirens? Just have someone else tie you up really tightly on the mast, and you can’t jump overboard.”

“Yeah!” Charlie piped up. “I reckon Jules, Skye, and I can handle running the ship for a bit on our own -- pretty faces don’t really do much for me.”

McNully laughed. “If being attracted to gorgeous women was the problem, then I’d be a better choice to help than Skye.”

Skye rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Mermaids don’t just tempt you with sex,” the quartermaster explained. “They’re temptation itself. Everything about them draws you in, makes you open up to them and talk to them...lets them look right through you. They’ll try to tempt you with whatever they think you want most in the world -- and when you give in and get too close...”

She made a knife-like gesture across her throat with her finger.

“There’s only one person on this ship that’s known to have ever said ‘no’ to a mermaid before,” said McNully, and he nodded up at the helm. “And that’s the Captain.”

Bill, Charlie, and Jules all looked up in surprise. Orion had his back to them and was looking out to sea with narrowed, unreadable eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, the crew could just barely make out a eerie, beautiful song, which seemed to float on the wind itself.

“...her chains she rattled in her hands and thus replied she...”

“Stopper your ears!” McNully said urgently. “Quickly!”

The crew hurriedly did as they were told. Orion, however, did not do so. Instead he darted down to the main deck, grabbed one of the lanterns, and set about relighting it.

“Orion, what are you DOING?!” bellowed Skye.

Orion didn’t answer her. McNully rolled hurriedly around the deck as he tried to make sure everyone blocked their ears, but Orion completely ignored him, instead rushing over to the side of the ship with the lit lantern.

The singing was getting louder now.

“Yet I love his parents since they’re his, although they've ruined me... I love my love because I know my love loves me...”

Just as Bill had finished helping Charlie and Jules completely stopper their ears, he caught the sound of a low male voice singing the next line.

“With straw I'll weave a garland, I'll weave it wondrous fine...”

Bill looked up in alarm at Orion. He had a hand cupped over his mouth to magnify his volume as he sang over the ship’s railing.

“With roses, lilies, daisies I'll mix the eglantine...”

“Stop!”

Bill barreled over, grabbing Orion’s shoulder and trying to pull him back away from the edge.

“What are you doing?! Singing and lanterns attract mermaids!”

“That’s the plan,” said Orion, his voice almost frustratingly calm.

Bill saw the water burbling up beside the edge of the ship. His heart clenched with fear.

Orion, however, paid him no mind -- he turned right to the form burbling under the water, his hand beside his mouth again as he continued,

“And I'll present it to my love when he returns from sea... I love my love because I know my love loves me."

Jules quickly grabbed Bill’s arm, pulling him back away from Orion. Bill looked at her anxiously, but she merely reached up to stopper his left ear with some fabric she’d ripped out of her chemise. Orion wasn’t going to explain, so all they could do is get ready.

Within moments, a woman with red hair had appeared out of the water. Her chin and neck were still largely submerged as she blinked up at Orion.

“You know the words,” she said almost shyly.

“Yes,” said Orion. “Where did you hear that song?”

The mermaid blinked slowly. “A maid imprisoned in the brig of a pirate ship.”

Jules had been just about to stopper Bill’s right ear when he straightened up sharply. He turned his head sharply to better listen to the conversation.

"What did the maid look like?” Orion asked.

The mermaid’s eyes flickered over the pirate captain’s face carefully as she eased her head and shoulders out of the water.

“I could not tell for sure. The brig was dark. The hole looking into it was small.”

“Yet you spoke to her?”

“Yes. She was a selfless woman. Very selfless.”

“When did you see her?”

“Very early this morning...before dawn.”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed. The mermaid reached out to grab onto the edge of the Artemis so as to slide herself out of the water and closer to Orion.

“You know her,” she said.

“Yes,” Orion answered quietly.

The mermaid’s eyes seemed to soften. “...You love her.”

Bill, who had been listening carefully, looked quickly at Orion’s face for some sort of reaction -- but once again his face was remarkably calm, and he didn’t respond.

“I could take you to her,” the mermaid said sweetly. “I know where she is...”

Bill felt his mind drifting slightly, as if he’d suddenly become very sleepy -- her voice sounded almost soothing -- and she knew Carewyn? She could take them to Carewyn?

“No, thank you,” said Orion with the kind of polite finality one would more likely hear at a Christmas function than to a creature that wanted to eat human flesh. “If you saw her this morning, we’ll be caught up with them soon enough. The wind will take us where we need to go, if only we have our sails pointed in the right direction.”

He inclined his head respectfully.

“Best of luck finding your next meal elsewhere.”

The mermaid frowned in immense confusion at him, looking almost put-out.

“You and Carey Weasley are both very strange humans,” she said. Her lips then curled into a faintly wry smile as she added, “She was not tempted by our call either. That should please you.”

And with that, she splashed back into the dark water and disappeared.

Orion blew out the flame on the lamp and turned back around.

“It’s all right now!” he bellowed loud enough that everyone could just barely make out his voice through the stuffing in their ears. “It’s safe!”

Everyone little by little unblocked their ears. Bill turned around to face Orion properly, his brown eyes rippling with amazement and a bit of guilt despite himself, as the pirate captain walked past him.

“You did know what you were doing.”

Orion turned to Bill. The eldest Weasley rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I misjudged you.”

Orion inclined his head slightly to Bill, his lips touched with traces of a smile.

“A common enough thing, for people to do,” he said patiently. “Think nothing of it.”

He strolled back up to the helm, leaving Bill and Jules alone.

Jules turned to Bill. He still had his eyes on Orion’s back.

“Bill...is everything okay?”

Bill glanced at Jules and then back up at Orion, and he swallowed.

The mermaid had said Orion loved Carewyn. He didn’t make any kind of reaction that would prove it was true -- but he didn’t deny it either. And more importantly, back at the church, he’d said he wouldn’t have hurt “either Bill’s or his lady,” when talking about Jules and Carewyn. And immediately after, he spoke of Carewyn’s past, of her history with him...of details even he didn’t know, like her apparently having worn a red ribbon in her hair since she was little...with such a soft voice that it wouldn’t be a stretch to think there was something fond in it, under that detached affect..

Bill hadn’t had a real friend in his life until he’d met Carewyn. They’d connected almost immediately out of their mutual desire to protect and nurture others, and they always seemed to be in sync whenever they had to battle together. Bill had always been a shoulder for others to cry on, but it was Carewyn who had first offered her shoulder to him, while they were fighting the Spanish together. The friendship and caring she’d shown him made her family to him more than her using his name alone ever could have. She was a sister to him -- his best mate -- someone he loved and cherished like few others in the world. And he wanted every happiness for her, just as he knew she did for him...

But what happiness could there be for her, with Orion? He was a pirate. There’d be no way the Navy would pardon him with the East India Trading Company breathing down their necks -- and would Carewyn truly be happy living the life of a pirate, after having been raised on a pirate ship like the Revenge? She’d built up a stable life for herself in the Navy, and Bill knew how much Carewyn loved being able to come back to Port Royal after a long expedition -- to come home, after being at sea. But pirates had no home. There was nothing anchoring a pirate. And no matter what Orion’s feelings were, and how much Bill suspected they might actually be something genuine...it didn’t mean a thing if Carewyn didn’t feel the same way.

“Jules...” he said at last, very quietly, “...is Carey...in love with Amari?”

Jules was startled by the use of her nickname. She glanced from Bill to up at Orion at the helm and back, frowning deeply. 

“...Love, I’m not sure, but...back at the fort, before Captain Amari rescued me...Carey told me that she’d bandaged him up and hidden him from the Navy, when they were young. So when Captain Amari figured out who she was...he let her go. I reckon they probably just made it look like Carey broke free.”

This information startled Bill. His brown eyes brightened in understanding.

“He owed her a life debt,” he said softly.

Jules smiled. “No. I thought the same thing -- that it was gratitude, on Captain Amari’s part. But...”

Her dark eyes softened.

“...Carey said...that he was simply a good man. And I don’t know...but the look in her eyes, as she looked out to sea...I’ve never seen her eyes look like that before.”

She reached out and took Bill’s hand. Bill gave it a squeeze.

“The water temperature has returned to normal,” announced Orion from the helm, emptying the bucket of sea water he’d filled earlier over the side. “Go ahead and relight the lamps -- we should approach Isle de Muerta within the next day or so.”

[davieslandon]

Discord Thread || Landon&Roman-01

Discord text thread featuring: Landon & @romanbeckett

When: 23rd March 2021

Mentions: @jayceelynd @aaronhart93 @quentindelancret

Description: Landon tells Roman that him and Jaycee are having a baby.

Trigger Warnings: accidental pregnancy 

LANDON

Landon could barely remember the last time he was so nervous about seeing Roman. Okay...that was a lie. The last time was probably after his best friend ‘found out’ he was in love with him but he tried not to think of that day too much. He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous. Maybe because he didn’t know how he was going to explain the fact that Jaycee was going to have his baby even though he came out as gay a couple of weeks ago. Going in, he saw that Roman was already there and he walked over, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. Roman was probably worried enough already from his texts, no need to worry him even more. “Hey”, he smiled, taking a seat. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman of course was a walking billboard of emotions when he entered the cafe, worried to death about what in the world this news from Landon could be. Regardless of everything that had gone on between them, they still managed to keep an impossible bond. Landon’s problems, were Roman’s problems, and their friendship had always been that way. The way his brain was headed right now though was the possibility that there were complications or something with his recovery from the wreck. That was worst case scenario and not something he could ever be prepared for. “Of course.” Ro replied easily, his brows furrowed in their usual worried fashion as he took a seat and attempted to prepare himself. “Okay. Lay it on me before I have a stroke.” 

LANDON

Landon really should have known that Roman would still worry even though he reassured him that it wasn’t anything too bad. In reality, it wasn’t bad at all. The pregnancy definitely wasn’t planned and it was a shock to both him and Jaycee but things could be worse. He could be stuck having to coparent with a complete stranger. Or someone who had no interest in raising a baby, leaving him alone with two kids. Landon just wasn’t sure how Roman was going to take it. He knew the silence was getting to his friend though so in the end he went with his favourite method of doing things. Straightforward and winging it. “Jaycee’s pregnant and it’s mine.” 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman sat there waiting, blinking eyes eyes slowly at his friend like he was completely shutting off until the dead was done. He had no idea what news Landon could have had for him, but as soon as the words finally came out, Ro’s jaw was on the floor. That actually MIGHT be the last things he expected to hear coming out of Landon’s mouth. “She — wait. What??” He squints at his friend, trying to see him more clearly if possible. “You’re the father of Jay’s baby. How??” Roman didn’t want to make too big a deal about it, but for now his mind was fucked. 

LANDON

This was already going better than he was expecting. Sure, Roman’s jaw dropped down so much he could catch flies but at least he was still sitting down in front of him. He tried putting himself in his best friend’s shoes and could only imagine how shocked he was. Landon would be as well if someone told him they got their friend pregnant after coming out as gay. Why couldn’t his life ever be a little less complicated? Explaining it was going to be fun. “Uh...good question. Well...Jaycee and I used to hook up...sometimes? Before the whole gay revelation.” Landon could feel his cheeks turning bright red but he couldn’t stop now. “Remember when there was that snow storm and everyone got stuck inside? I was with Jaycee, we were both drunk and I guess one thing lead to another and...here we are.” 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman continued to stare at his best friend through his full explanation, trying to come up with the right words to say in response to this. Jay was also a close friend of his, and the idea that they were going to be having a baby together was just something he couldn’t really let sink in. “You and Jaycee...are having a baby.” He repeated yet again, as if saying it once more out loud would make it by easier to accept. “Are you sure?”

LANDON

Landon couldn’t blame him for being shocked over the revelation. He felt the same way when Jaycee first showed up at his house and told him that she was pregnant. “Yeah”, he said, looking while his best friend tried to wrap his head around it. “Jaycee said it’s mine and I believe her.” Landon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This wasn’t planned...at all. But it’s my baby Ro.”

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was still quite shocked by what Landon was trying to tell him, wanting to kick himself for it at the same time. This was his best friend, who needed his support, and he was sitting here...stunned. “I mean. Yeah.” The actor blew out a sigh and then pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like such a shit, I’m just — what are you feeling?” He tried to pry, crossing his arms as he looked over his friend.

LANDON

Landon wasn't sure what Roman was expecting when he said he needed to talk to him but, whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't this. And so it's not like he could really blame him for looking shocked over his announcement but at least his best friend was taking the news better than he thought. Not that he thought Roman would start screaming at him over this but it was still nerve wrecking to tell him he got their mutual friend pregnant and he was going to be a dad again. "You're not acting like a shit, I know it's a shock. Trust me, I was shocked as well when Jaycee told me." Landon took a few seconds to really think about his answer, wanting to be as honest as possible. "I'm...not sure, to be honest. It's a lot and none of it was planned. So I'm nervous, terrified really, but also...excited."

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman had always wanted to be a dad, but at the same time, it always seemed so far away. It was hard to imagine being surprised with such a huge step without any warning. Not to mention, it was Landon and Jaycee. He would have never been able to pick a more random assortment of his friends if he tried. “Yeah, I guess this is super exciting.” The actor smirked, already knowing he was gonna love this child an impossible amount. “My best friends are having a baby. This is so crazy...have you told your mum?”

LANDON

Landon had always known that he wanted more kids after Elle. He was raised in a big family and it was pretty amazing so it wasn't surprising that he wanted to have a big family as well but whenever someone asked he always said that he became a father at a really young age and there were some things he wanted to get done now that Elle was slightly older before thinking of having another child. Turns out that he was incapable of having a baby in a conventional way. "It is. Really surprising and unexpected but you know I could never abandon a baby, especially when it's mine." The mention of his mum made him wince. "Not exactly? You know my mum, she's going to be so excited to get another grandchild but she's definitely going to have words with me about being old enough to know about safe sex." 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman managed to break out into a lopsided grin when Landon mentioned his Mum talking to him about safe sex, the image of that just making him want to laugh. “God, I can just picture her having the talk with you, and it’s bloody hilarious.” Ro shook his head and then looked over at his friend once again. “Well, you know I’m gonna be here to help you both every step of the way. You know how obsessed I am with children.” It was crazy, Roman had always wanted a huge family, and yet here he was, constantly watching his friends have kids with no real idea when he was going to be ready to have his own. “Do you want a boy this time?” 

LANDON

Landon glared at his friend over his teasing but it was clear he was just as amused. "The safe sex talk was bad enough when I was sixteen, I never expected to get it at almost thirty as well. I'm supposed to be preparing to give it to my kid not the other way round", he said, shaking his head. His mum was definitely going to have a few words for him when she heard the news but Landon also knew that she was going to be supportive and the best grandma ever, just like she was when he said that he would be adopting Elle. It was moments like this that really made him miss living in London and being so close to his family. At least it would give him the perfect excuse for a quick visit. "I know, you're going to be the best uncle to this baby just like you already are with Elle." It was weird, for years he thought there would be a point where he'd finally get his head out of his ass and tell Roman how he feels. After having Elle, there were moments he caught himself thinking of what it would be like to have another kid in the future with who he thought was the guy of his dreams. Now it couldn't be more different and Landon should have known it was never going to work out that way. "Honestly, as long as they're healthy I don't really care about what we have. But having a little boy would be pretty cool."

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman nodded when his friend said he didn’t mind what the sex was as long as the baby was happy. Ro was the same way when it came to kids, he just wanted to have a child, it didn’t matter if it was a boy or girl. Besides, Landon was gonna be an amazing dad regardless, because he already was. “I can just picture you having a mini me, i dunno, I think it would be so cool to see what a little Landon looks like.” The actor held out his hands in a picturesque gesture. “You seem to have those strong jeans that make your whole family look exactly the same.”

LANDON

Roman was definitely right about that. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Elle wasn’t biologically his daughter because she did resemble him a little. He knew for a fact that his sisters were often mistaken for each other so there’s that as well. “Yeah I won’t be surprised if they do end up looking like my family”, he chuckled. Landon was so grateful to Roman for taking the news in stride and being supportive. He should have known that he didn’t have anything to worry about. 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask how Elle is handling this.” Roman rubbed at his temples, realizing that he hadn’t even checked in on one of the most important people in this equation. “Is she happy about it, or feeling jealous?” Ro knew Elle pretty damn well obviously, but her mood could go either way for a lot of things. Either way, the little girl always had a strong opinion, so he didn’t doubt that she’d been upfront with Landon about how she was feeling on the subject. 

LANDON

“She’s ecstatic. Can’t stop yelling everyone that she’s going to be the best big sister ever. You know she’s been hinting at getting a sibling ever since Alison had the twins? That’s the thing with Elle and Des. What one does, the other has to follow.” His daughter might be a little spoiled but the sibling dilemma was the one thing he refused to compromise on. It was difficult to explain to a six year old why he couldn’t give her a baby sibling but he managed and getting a second dog was enough to get Elle’s mind off of it. Who could have known that a couple of months later he would have to go back on his words and admit it was happening after all? 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman threw back his head in a laugh when Landon said that Elle couldn’t stop telling everyone that she was going to be the best big sister. He had no doubt that was true. “God, I love her. That’s worth everything right there, just to see her that excited.” The actor smirked, and then tucked some hair behind his ear as he smirked across the table at the other. Landon was his best, and oldest friend, so of course Ro still had some reservations, and was worried that this would be harder on him than he would ever let on, but this could definitely be exciting. “Well, I can’t wait for this baby. Seriously. Two of my best friends having a baby?? This child is going to be BEYOND spoiled.” 

LANDON

Moments like these made it hard for Landon not to think about how lucky he was. He might not have a romantic partner raising his children with him but he had a support system that most people would be jealous of. His biological family were always supportive, even all the way from London and his close friends were basically his family. So he knew that Roman, like Aaron, would be there to support and help him with the baby, just like he was there for Elle. “Tell me about it”, he rolled his eyes teasingly. “Elle’s already spoiled enough, add another kid to that and everyone’s going to have their work cut out for them.” But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman was smiling the entire time Landon was talking, because he knew his friend was completely fine with his kids being spoiled to death. “They’re both going to be spoiled, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t either.” He shrugged a shoulder, smirking down at the table before his gaze was flicking back up to look at his best friend. “Kids are so...I dunno. They’re a blessing, and Elle, your incoming baby, any future children you decide to pop out, they’re all so lucky to have you.” He nodded his head, both dimples painting his face as his eyes scanned the smaller male. “You’re such a good dad, Lan. I’m proper proud of you, seriously.” 

LANDON

“I definitely wouldn’t have it any other way.” His mum struggled so much to make ends meet when he was a young kid and it was just the two of them. She did everything she could to make sure he had everything he could need but it was still tough. Landon didn’t want his kids to know what it felt like to see their parents cry over another bill they couldn’t afford. Landon wasn’t sure he would ever be able to explain just how much Roman’s words meant to him. Just like any other parent, he had his moments where he felt like he was doing a shit job. Worries about whether or not he was doing the right thing, being too strict or too lenient...his concerns never stopped. So having Roman say that, it meant a lot and gave him the reassurance he needed that he was doing a decent job. “Thanks Ro, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you though. You know that, right?”

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman just managed to give his friend a smirk when he said he wouldn’t have been able to do without him, something Ro wasn’t sure was true or not. Landon was always a survivor, he figured out how to accomplish things when it felt impossible, and Ro always admired that about his best friend. “Well, I’d like to think that was the truth, but I also know how you are. You would be able to do all of this without me. I have no doubt.” He gave the smaller a small smile, and then nodded. “I just can’t believe we’re here, after all these years. You’re a dad times two.” Ro let out a heavy sigh, and then shook his head. “Seems like yesterday we were stuffing our faces and playing video games all hours of the night. Well, not that we don’t still do that, but.” He chuckled. 

LANDON

Some part of him knew that he would have forced himself to get through it on his own but he was still grateful that he didn’t have to. Roman was there for him from the very beginning, from school to college and all the way through fatherhood. Getting through all of Elle’s sleepless nights in the first few months without his childhood friend by his side would have been torture. “Maybe but who would have taken care of Elle for a couple of hours everyday just so I can get some sleep after a long sleepless night taking care of a baby?” Best friends or not, not many people would have done what Roman did for him. “I know...we still do that but it’s not the same. We didn’t have adult responsibilities back then”, he laughed. Landon had so many fond memories of them pretending to be asleep so their parents wouldn’t get mad, on to stay up till the early hours of the morning playing video games and eating all the snacks they could find in the kitchen. 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

“To be fair, we still act like we have no adult responsibilities.” He teased with a sly smirk, even though that wasn’t COMPLETELY true. They technically had a lot of responsibilities now, and even though Des wasn’t technically his kid, he was already siding into the role of parent pretty quickly. He was taking on a lot more lately, growing into a proper adult, and he guessed it felt like it was finally time for that. It was a hard adjustment though, and those temptations to slip back into what they used to have were all too real. “I love the way life is going right now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go back just for like, a day or something. We seriously had no idea how good we had it when we were kids. I miss it sometimes, y’know?” 

LANDON

“Speak for yourself”, he said, rolling his eyes, although Landon couldn’t deny that Roman’s words held some truth. Landon might have been a father for the past six years but that never really stopped him from enjoying himself and having a good time with his friends. Maybe not when Elle was really young but ever since she got old enough to have a babysitter, it wasn’t unheard of for Landon to take a night off once a week to go out for a couple of drinks. Maybe  have some fun with someone while he was at it. And while he knew that he wasn’t the only parent to do that, especially considering he was a single parent, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty sometimes. “I know what you mean. Life was so simple when we were still teens wishing to grow up. At the time it felt like life was out to get us but we had no idea how lucky we actually were. I wouldn’t mind going back to how it was for a day or two either.” Landon loved Elle, he loved the baby that was on the way and everyone in his life but he did wish he could turn back the clock sometimes, just so he could enjoy one more day as a sixteen year old. Then again, he wasn’t above admitting to himself that it was for selfish reasons, so that he could get one more day where it was just them two against the world, with no one else and no complications. But it was just wishful thinking and the sooner Landon came to terms with it, the sooner he could move on. 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman smiled at his friend when he agreed with his words, knowing he was probably reminiscing on the time they had together as kids. Ro often thought about it too, mostly because this was just the one person he’d always been able to depend on, besides his sister. Landon was always there, through every high and low, he’d even followed him to New York, and there’s nothing Ro could ever do to thank Landon enough. “Hey. We should all plan a trip to Disney world sometime when the baby’s old enough to go. Like, me, you, Jay, Elle, the baby, Aaron, Q, and Des. That would be fun, wouldn’t it??” 

LANDON

Landon didn't think he would ever forget the pure joy on Elle's face the first time he took her to Disney World. It was one of his most cherished memories and the idea of doing it again with his son filled him with excitement. Having his unofficial family all with him would only make the experience even better. Landon even thought that he could get over the painful tug in the pit of his stomach every time he saw Aaron, Roman and Quentin together. "I think that's an incredible idea. Elle would love the opportunity to go to Disney World with Des and the baby...well I don't know yet but with us around I'm sure he'll enjoy it as well", he joked with a chuckle. Landon looked at his phone and his eyes widened when he saw that it had gotten so late. "Shit, I have to get back home. Have an online meeting in half an hour. We'll plan a movie night soon to catch up? I miss us hanging out all the time." 

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Roman smiled as he watched Landon’s reaction to the idea of them all going to Disney world, the idea that he could hangout with his best friend again while with his significant others making his heart swell. He’d been terrified since Landon admitted his feelings, afraid that this was going to ruin their friendship and make everything they’d spent years building come crashing down around their ears. The truth though, was that they’d been friends for so damn long, it was unofficial family. There was no running from each other. “Right. Yeah, I know you’re busy. But yes, absolutely we’ll plan a movie night soon. I’d like that.” He nodded, giving his friend a small smirk as well. “Let me know if you need anything. Please.” 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Swallow The Moon

(Read Katherine as Jodie!Katherine)

Remember back to when Aimie, Millie, and Maiya left SIX and everyone was writing fics about them disappearing and then being reincarnated again in their new bodies? Well, this is like an AU where instead of Sophie!Kat coming back after Aimie!Kat disappears, it’s Jodie!Kat. And yes, this is still West End, so everyone else is the same, aside from Courtney!Anne and whatever the new Cathy’s name is! Although they never make an appearance in this. But yeah!

Word count: 4329

——————

Past Katherine would never ever in a billion years turn up on her “rival’s” doorstep with a platter of brownies. Past Katherine would have downright refused to go, and if she was forced to, she would have made sure the brownies were made with an entire carton of salt and spoiled milk and expired eggs. Past Katherine would have dressed the front door with glitter that would never wash out, just to attract even more unwanted attention to the one who always tried to steal her mother away.

But Present Katherine didn’t want to do any of those things. In fact, she was a little repulsed that she ever thought about trying to give a lonely girl food poisoning.

It’s strange, she thinks, that all it took to change her morals was temporary death. Ever since her second reincarnation, she felt different. She looks different, too, now in the body of an adult (and very muscular, mind you) version of herself. She swore she was even older than Jane; it appeared to be the body she never got to live in. And, with it came a really, REALLY matured brain. She realized she didn’t even need Jane anymore, she attended therapy on her own, she wasn’t that afraid of men anymore because she knew her rock-like fists could knock their teeth in if they tried anything (don’t quote her on that—she was just hoping they were as strong as they looked). And she no longer thought about wanting to tear down the musical’s music director just for kicks and giggles. Guilt was left in the absence of the devilish mischief.

And so, that’s why she was on the doorstep of her ex-rival (God did she really consider this girl her rival? How terrible was she?). In a rainstorm. Holding a platter of brownies. She told the universe that the storm really didn’t help, but, honestly, it was kind of what she deserved.

Katherine perked up when she heard the lock click. The door soon opened, Joan took one look at her, then slammed it shut in her face.

Well. She kinda deserved that, too.

“Joan!” Katherine called desperately.

“Go away!” Joan shouted.

“Please, I just want to talk!”

The door flew open midknock and Katherine nearly rapped on Joan’s nose.

Before her stood an irritated, although quite small music director. Has Joan always been that short? And scrawny? Or was it just because Katherine was just now so much more muscular and tall and-

Joan growled, as if she could hear Katherine’s ego inflating and nitpicking her own body.

“I wanna talk.” Katherine said again. “Please?”

Joan looked her up and down.

“You can frisk me if you’d like.”

Joan wrinkled her nose and made a disgusted face. She shook her head, muttered something about something else being ‘just great’, then turned around and stomped into the apartment. Katherine followed.

As much as she hated to admit it, Katherine was startled at how beautiful the flat was. The past version of her always assumed the music director’s home would be completely covered in pictures of Jane, but she didn’t see a hint of the silver queen anywhere. Instead, there were wooden carvings and colorful pottery, thriving potted plants and original paintings, polished deer antlers and clever little sculptures. The only light on in the place was an ocean driftwood scented candle and a lamp on the round table next to the couch. It was cozy in there, although a little lonely. Katherine wondered if all the carvings and statues were supposed to be poor replacements for real people.

“Well?” Joan crossed her arms and glared at Katherine. Her glare was never really all that threatening, but now that she was in a new body, Katherine found that it was completely ineffective. “Have you come to gloat about how much prettier you are than me? How much more people will like you now? How much Jane loves you even more?”

Startled, Katherine quickly said, “No. Not at all.”

Joan looked her up and down again, and Katherine took the chance to observe her, too.

Have you ever wondered what would come out if you were to throw every color of paint into a wood chipper? Well, Joan was that outcome. Her pale skin was covered in some kind of dust and there’s splinters and wood chips caught in her hair and in between her fingers and embedded under her fingernails. Red and yellow and orange paint was splattered across her face and torso, as if someone had melted the sunset in a cauldron and flung it all over her. Her eyes are like the moon over a frozen ocean- murky and scuffed, but still glittering in the light.

“I told you, I just want to talk.” Katherine said gently. “I made brownies.” She squinted at Joan and noticed a flush of dark pink beneath all the dirt and paint on her face. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Fine.” Joan grit, although she looked supremely uncomfortable with Katherine being in her house with her. “Put your brownies on the counter. But don’t expect me to eat them. Who knows what you put in them...”

Katherine wondered for a moment if she knew about her past self’s food poisoning plot. She winced and quickly set the tray down before going into the living room where Joan was. There was a half-finished painting of what seemed to be a flurry of moths sitting on the easel.

“It’s good.” She commented.

Joan looked over her shoulder at her, then immediately glanced away. She said something to herself again and retrieved a second easel, two blank canvases, and some more paintbrushes from a room next to the guest bathroom. She set the easel up and gave the canvas to Katherine.

“I like when my guests paint things,” She said gruffly, swapping her half-finished canvas out with the new one. “It’s like a game, I guess. You come over for the first time, you paint something.” She shrugged and swiped a blob of pink paint with a thin brush, making sure her easel was angled so that Katherine couldn’t see what she was making.

“That’s really cool!” Katherine said. “How many people have made stuff?”

Joan was silent for a moment.

“You’ll be the first.”

Katherine frowned. “Oh...”

They painted in silence for a long time. Katherine wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it gave her time to rehearse everything she wanted to say to Joan. And, good lord, there was so much. She hoped the girl would let her get it all out before she was told to leave.

“Joan—”

Joan suddenly came sidling around her easel to see what Katherine had been painting. She took one look at the (badly painted) cats cuddling, snorted, then grabbed her own canvas and threw it at Katherine’s feet.

“This,” She pointed at it. “This is why I will NEVER be liked like you are.”

Katherine grimaced as she looked at the painting of a pale blue and moon silver screaming dragon getting its jaw horribly broken by a rusty jaw trap. Despite how gratuitous and gory it was, she had to admit that it was quite amazing. Joan really was a skilled artist.

Katherine carefully picked up the painting and set it on its easel to dry as Joan stormed into her kitchen. She didn’t go after the girl, knowing how unsettled and uneasy she was at the moment, and didn’t want to make that worse. So, she waited in front of her dripping cats—she knew she shouldn’t have painted them to be silver and pink. Even though she didn’t really view Jane as a mother anymore, it seemed that some parts of her still held onto that bond they shared.

She heard a noise from the kitchen—a cough and then what sounded like a sniffle. Some kind of instinct flared to life within her—something maternal, she realized. She had Motherly Senses?! Oh, that was SO COOL! She always wanted to be the caretaker for once...or maybe she didn’t and she just wanted to now. Either way, she didn’t care! She’s always wondered what it was like to have Mum Instincts—

There was another cough from the kitchen, this one much more watery and weak. The instincts flare again—THAT’S what it felt like. Worried and concerned and making her feel like she had to hold whatever was in distress.

“Joan?” She called out. “Is everything okay in there, hun?”

Did she just use a pet name on someone? Ohhh, she LOVED THIS BODY!!

“Yes,” Joan replied hoarsely. She came bustling out a moment later holding two cups of a steaming liquid. She set one on the dining table and then scurried to sit on the opposite side. Katherine quickly joins her at the table.

“I wanted to apologize.” Katherine said after a tense moment of silence between her and the girl. “For how I treated you before.”

Joan looked down at her cup with an unreadable expression- Anger? Guilt? Relief? Pain?

“It was awful of me to do to you, Joan.” Katherine went on. “I was immature and stupid and mean. I never should have treated you like that.”

“You called me a ‘weird little diamond’.” Joan pointed out grimly.

“Oh. Right. That.”

“And Moon Eyes.” Joan added. She ducked her head, as if she were trying to hide her eyes from sight. “That’s not really easy to forgive when it’s said enough...”

Katherine grimaced. She remembered when she had made up that nickname: It was a bad day, but for a stupid reason. She got mad when Joan gave Jane yet another painting and loudly referred to her with that title instead of her regular name. She apparently thought Joan’s eyes were too grey and too creepy and too much like a twin pair of stolen moons to be real. Or human.

“Oh god,” Katherine muttered. “That was- Oh, Joan, that was so terrible of me to do to you. It must have been awful...”

“It STILL IS awful.” Joan growled. “Can you even imagine being bullied for your eye color? You made me want to gouge my own eyes out!” She slammed her fists on the table and suddenly looked like she wanted to lunge across it and strangle Katherine.

Katherine gasped softly at that revelation. She gripped tightly at her heart with one hand, while the other remained flat on the table. Guilt was eating away at her like thousands of starving ants.

“I’m so sorry.” She said. “Really, I am.”

“So it really took dying again and switching bodies to realize what you did was wrong?” Joan asked. She wasn’t being accusatory, rather just curious.

“Unfortunately.” Katherine sighed. “I don’t know why I did it. Jealousy, maybe?”

Joan’s head snapped up. “Jealousy?” She echoed. “What do YOU have to be jealous about? You have EVERYTHING!”

Katherine nodded grimly. “I know.” She said, and she swore she heard the remnants of her past self screaming in her ears, telling her not to say that and not to give in to this little gnat. “I have a family and fame and friends and money and—”

“And Jane.” Joan murmured.

Katherine looked at her sadly. “And Jane.” She echoed. “That’s right.”

Silence settled between the two of them. Joan had her eyes closed and she was breathing deeply through her nose, like she was trying to keep herself calm from an oncoming panic attack. The flush beneath all the dirt suddenly looked a lot darker.

“I,” Katherine started, and she saw Joan open one moon eye to look at her.. “I just had to apologize. I want things to change. I want to make things okay.”

Joan nodded softly. She reached up a hand to scrub her eyes, and Katherine realized with a wrench of guilt that she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“It’s just— I was so lonely.” She whispered. “You took Jane away from me. And I knew—still know—that you needed her more than me, you have PTSD, you have a tragic backstory, you have to relive your trauma every night, but—” She put her head in her hands and shook it. “It didn’t change anything. I needed her, too. A-and I know she loved me—would love me—still loves me—if I just got a chance with her.”

Katherine frowned.

Jane never loved this moonborn creep and you know it. Her past self whispered. Her voice is higher pitched and younger like it used to be. Hearing it set her on edge. It was like the shell of the body she used to be in was right behind her, murmuring in her ears.

Shut up. She growled.

You know it’s true. Past Katherine merely said again. We’ve both heard Jane mutter about how much of a nuisance Moon Eyes is. You KNOW she’s never liked her.

Katherine desperately wants that to be false, but she knows it’s true. She remembered how Jane would call Joan an “annoying little weasel” under her breath and how she would toss all the gifts she got into her closet to rot, and god forbid Katherine would LAUGH when she did so. She laughed like the horrible, horrible person she was.

We’re not horrible. Past Katherine said indignantly, and Katherine could already picture the way she used to ruffle herself up when being stubborn and brat. We’re right. And I’m NOT a brat by the way. And even if I was, which I’m not, that would make you one, too. So HAHA!!

I’m not you. Katherine said. Not anymore.

She ignored whatever her past self responded with and focused her eyes on Joan. The girl was looking down at her cup with a pitiful expression. When Katherine didn’t answer her, she must have thought she had gotten bored of her already.

“I’m sorry,” Was all Katherine could think to say at the moment. Joan looked up at her with her great big eyes and she swore she felt her past self shudder somewhere within her mind.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Joan muttered, gripping her cup tightly. She had to scrunch her eyes shut and take a few more breaths through her nose before she could speak up again. “I-I mean— You’re older. Jane—she doesn’t need to care for you anymore. She- maybe I can be-”

For a moment, she looks hopeful, but then the sadness takes over again. It replaces all her anger, too, until it was the only emotion she seemed to have.

Poor girl, Katherine thought.

Don’t pity her. Past Katherine said.

Stay out of my head.

OUR head. Past Katherine stated. I am you, no matter how hard you try to think otherwise.

“Joan—”

“I wanted to hurt you, you know.”

Katherine tensed at those words. She looked at Joan, who seemed as ashamed and as guilty as she was.

“I just wanted to—hurt you.” She said again, her voice tight with pain and resentment. “I wanted you to know what it was like to be left alone and picked last and be unwanted by everyone you’ve ever known. I wanted you to Know what it felt like to have everything taken from you. I wanted for me to have everything for you to have nothing.” She looked up at Katherine and her eyes were like a dark lunar eclipse reflecting on fractured ice. “I wanted you to feel in your soul what you’ve done to me.”

But we HAVE! Past Katherine cried. We’ve endured more than this moon-eyed freak ever has in both of her lives combined! We know what it’s like to suffer. She doesn’t.

Suffering comes in many ways. Katherine growled, impatient with her past self.

Yeah, but I think being raped and abused by four adult men several times takes the cake. Past Katherine said bitterly, and she seemed to be rolling her eyes wherever she was in Katherine’s head.

“I’m sorry you felt that way.” Katherine said softly after a moment.

Joan whimpered pitifully. “And you say you’re awful.” She propped her elbows on the table and clutched her head. “If you heard the thoughts I have about you, you’d be running for the hills.”

It’s my fault. Katherine thought sadly. I did this to her. I broke this poor, innocent girl.

No, Past Katherine said. We didn’t do anything. We aren’t some monster, SHE is. You heard what she said. And, besides, we can’t be a bad person. We went through hell, we’re allowed to be—

You think that’s an excuse? Katherine scoffed. Just because we were abused and taken advantage of, doesn’t mean we can’t be a bitch. Victims of trauma can still be assholes, idiot. And, news flash, we were one.

Past Katherine merely huffed and probably rolled her eyes again.

Doesn’t matter now. The damage is done. She’s broken, as you said. She can’t be fixed. She said. Look at her, she’s already falling to pieces.

What?

Katherine looked up sharply to see Joan bracing both hands on the table and swaying slightly. The flush on her cheeks was now much darker than the dust and paint.

All it took was a cough to rattle her frame and make her fall.

Katherine was out of her chair before she even knew what she was really doing, controlled by those new motherly instincts. She ran over to Joan, who now laid dazed on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling. She propped her up in her arms; her face was so hot when she touched it. And her eyes—oh, her eyes...

“Moon Eyes! Moon Eyes! Moon Eyes!” The chant she used to yell when Joan passed by echoed in her head, but she couldn’t help it because when she gazed down at those twin pits of molten silver, all she saw was a pale creature of night in her arms. Its eyes were pieces of the moon it stole from the sky and shoved into the deep hollows in their face, hoping to make them more human, but it didn’t. It never did. The moonborn white alien remained outlandish and otherworldly.

Joan shuddered in her hold. She tried to blink even faster to ward off apparent dizziness, but it did little to help her.

“You’re running a fever.” Katherine told her. “Joan, you’re burning up.”

“Why do you care?” Joan choked out.

“I’m worried about you, honey.”

“But why?” Joan sobbed, tears now cascading down her cheeks, like the moons glowing in her eye sockets were melting from the heat of her fever. “You don’t care about me! Nobody cares about me!”

That’s true. Past Katherine put in helpfully, but Katherine shoves her voice into the darker reaches of her mind.

“People do care about you.” Katherine assured the weeping girl. “I promise. I promise they do.”

Joan gazed up at her before the fever consumed her. She went limp in the queen’s arms and, for a moment, Katherine saw something paler than her moons—the whites of her eyes when they rolled back in her skull.

—

You really shouldn’t touch her. Past Katherine chided as Katherine was feeling Joan’s forehead again. It was wet with sweat again, despite her already wiping it off two times in that hour.

Shut up. Katherine growled.

She looked down at Joan, who she had carried into the master bedroom and tucked into the bed. The girl was breathing harshly through her mouth, soft whimpers and murmurs falling from her pale lips every once and awhile. Katherine had done her best to make her comfortable, but she was still quite new to the whole caretaker thing, even with the memories of watching Jane tend to her so many times before.

Those were the days, Past Katherine sighed wistfully.

I thought I told you to shut up.

You don’t tell me what to do. I can do and say whatever I want.

You can’t control me.

For now.

Katherine shuddered. She hated how ominous that sounded.

She got up from where she was perched on the side of the bed and looked around the room for pajamas. She hated snooping in Joan’s clothes of all things (when she accidentally opened the undergarment drawer, she slammed it shut with so much force she was surprised the whole thing didn’t explode into tiny wood shavings), but the poor girl was probably sweating through what she was wearing right down and that wouldn’t be too comfortable.

After a bit of searching, she eventually found a fresh shirt and some shorts, but it wasn’t the only thing she dug out. In a drawer near the ground, beneath a thin blanketing of folding T-shirts, there were papers and canvases and notebooks. Without really wanting to, she began to look through them.

Oh my god, Past Katherine muttered in her brain.

They were drawings of her. Her from the past. Not all of them, but—there were just so many.

Paintings of her bloody or dead or drawn to look like a succubus, paintings too smeared with red to see what had been originally displayed upon the surface, paintings that were ripped on her face, as if Joan had taken a knife to the canvases and cut it to shreds. There were half finished paintings with tear stains and marks where the paint bled with the droplets and paintings that had horrible things scribbled around an abstract headshot of her face. There was even a painting of a dead cat with a hot pink rhinestone collar.

And then there were paintings of Joan crying, Joan bleeding pink blood, Joan dying or already dead, Joan hanging from a noose and Joan cutting her wrists and cutting her throat and cutting every inch of her body until she had scraped off every shred of unwanted and unliked flesh—until she was more like Katherine was.

There was a painting of a ram with red paint that Katherine was sure wasn’t actually red paint.

And, underneath all the canvas carnage, there was one larger than the rest. A painting of a hideous, skeletal creature as pale as snow, but with eyes that were somehow even paler. They were too big, too. Its stomach was so sunken—she could see every rib poking out from the bleached flesh. The fingers were too long and tipped with short black claws. There were cuts engraved all over its body that wept blue blood.

Somehow, Katherine knew exactly what this was supposed to depict.

Moon Eyes. Past Katherine said bitterly.

Katherine screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of a plan she once had to spread the cruel joke on social media. She gripped the edges of the canvas tightly.

What have I done? She thought. This poor girl... I ruined her.

You didn’t do anything. Past Katherine said, miffed. And neither did I. Some people just get subjected to bad things. Like we did in back then. Not that this is anything like that. That was a real problem, this is just a little schoolyard teasing. She broke herself by losing her mind over this. I mean, look at these paintings. She’s insane.

You’re terrible. Katherine growled. Will you grow up? I’ve accepted what we did, why can’t you?

Because she doesn’t deserve your pity. Past Katherine responded distastefully. She’s a nobody, and you know that. Nobody even knows WHY she came back. There are hundreds of more important people that could have been reincarnated, our sister, for example, but NO. We got this moonborn, moon-eyed, night owl, pale FREAK.

SHUT UP! Katherine roared. With a blast of blazing fury, she forcibly threw her past self into the darkest reaches of her mind.

Blackness soon filled her head like inky bile. Silence.

Katherine put all the canvases back into the drawer and closed it. She stood up quietly and crept back over to the bed. She picked up the rag lying in the bowl of water she had brought in and began to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on Joan’s face.

You did this to her, She whispered to herself, this time with her own voice, not her creaking past one’s. You ruined her. Broke her. She’s messed up, now, because of you.

She put the rag back into the bowl, then watched Joan sleep. Her face was scrunched up, as if she was in pain even in her sleep.

She doesn’t know pain. The hiss of her past self bubbled in her ears. If you want to pity her so badly, then give her a reason to be in pain. Hurt her more than we were hurt. Scar her until even Jane will have to feel bad for her. If that’s truly what you want. Because nobody will believe she’s hurt until you make it visible.

And so, Katherine peeled back Joan’s eyelids and dug her fingers into her eye sockets. She scooped up the pale orbs and pulled them out of their black cavities. She held the moons in her hands. She rolled them around in her palms, feeling their smoothness and squishiness and warmth against her skin, and then they lolled around and blinked up at her.

Joan jerked awake with an anguished wail. The moons lodged in her face are so wide and so pale and so very lonely, like they longed to be back in the sky. Katherine’s fingers twitched; she thought she could feel the webs of blood dripping through them.

You could always put her out of her misery. Past Katherine said. Nobody would miss her. Nobody would even look for her.

But Katherine silenced her voice before she could project another horrendous vision in her brain. When she reached out to Joan, she didn’t go for her eyes, but rather her cheeks, and she cupped them tenderly, like she was trying to hold Joan together while she was about to shatter.

“Shh, shh,” She hushed the weeping girl. “It’s okay, sweetie. It was just a dream. You’re alright. I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I promise.”

It’s the least she could do, seeing as she was the one who stole the moons and put them in her head in the first place.

[erikthedead]

entry #1

I have finally acquired Microsoft Word! I really didn’t want to pay a monthly subscription for it, but it is the best writing software out there. Every time I mention myself spending money, a small prayer goes out to all the tax-paying members of the nation, since all my money comes from Universal Credit, which is the United Kingdom’s cute name for a type of welfare money. I much prefer just calling it ‘welfare,’ or even better ‘NEETbux,’ which I discovered used in online forums as a word for the money people receive when they are not in education, employment, or training (N.E.E.T), which has been my status for about two years now. Then ‘bux’ is just ‘bucks,’ obviously. Bucks is just money, obviously. Many people receiving Universal Credit also work as well; they just receive less - enough to supplement their wages if they aren’t getting enough money from their jobs.  

My last job was working in a busy restaurant for just about a year. Before that I was in university, but I dropped out after only completing the first year out of three. Before that, I worked as a carer for elderly people for just under a year. Before that, I was in college for two years, and I actually passed the course. I only passed it because the subject was forensic science, which included lots of writing about psychology, criminology and lab reports. I was never that good in the lab practically. I got flustered and bewildered in such a bright, sanitary environment that required precision and organisation to achieve the desired results. When it came to scrambling together a report to submit the next day though, I was pretty golden. I only dropped out of university because I had a mental break down as a result of poor mental health and just the fact that going outside and interacting with people was and still is incredibly exhausting for me. After a year of doing that consistently it seems, I get fatigued. In the end I got an average grade for the college course because some of the work was difficult, or boring, and that fatigue was hitting me by the second year. However, the grades I was getting on my university assignments for psychology and sociology were anywhere between top marks and good marks (Between 1st – 2:2 in UK student language). I never once read the feedback from the tutors who marked my work. All I needed to know was the mark was okay and moved on to the next assignment, firstly because I was arrogant and secondly, I couldn’t handle criticism. The mental break down itself involved me walking through the campus one day only to find myself slipping into a dissociative state. Nothing had happened immediately prior to trigger this, it just happened. It felt strange, like I wasn’t really real, and neither was anyone else. Everything felt distant and off, both externally and internally. It was frightening and strangely peaceful, as if at any moment someone could come in and blow the building up and I wouldn’t even react to it. That wasn’t normal. The only way to snap out of it was to lock myself in a toilet cubicle and lightly slice my arm with a tiny knife I had on my keys. It worked, but now I was in floods of tears and a state of distress, so I went to the student welfare services to see if they could help me or at least let me sit somewhere nicer than a toilet while I calmed down. It was an open office waiting area at the side of the bottom floor of a building that matched the layout of a prison ward with the stairs and the upper floors creating a square boarder of classrooms, that would have been cells for a prison. More for practical purposes than for aesthetic reasons, I’m sure. Still sobbing, and hiding my self-inflicted cuts, I asked the person behind the desk if I could ‘see someone,’ which is one polite British way of asking for help. After waiting a little while, a plump middle-aged lady appeared and brought me into her own little private office to ask me what had happened. She gave me her sympathy and asked me about my life and my history, and gave me some more sympathy, while relating her own experiences to mine. She was a good counsellor, basically. But having a good counsellor on site wasn’t enough to keep me on the course after that incident. Getting a degree just wasn’t worth it at the time. Being such a depressed and pessimistic person, I was only actually doing the course for ‘fun’ anyway, not for the hope that it will bring me a better future. Until recently, I never saw a future for myself. It wasn’t even a bleak future I imagined; it was just blank. I couldn’t even conceptualise it.

It’s not a mystery where all my misery came from. My childhood was a bit inconsistent to start, and from what I’ve observed, children need consistency more than anything to develop promisingly. I remember reading a study once that found children raised by parents who were consistently abusive to them were in fact more mentally stable than those raised by parents who could be lovely one day and nasty the next. It was not knowing what treatment they were going to get that did them in. It makes sense because if you’re always expecting to face a thrashing or a shouting at every day, you can at least prepare for it and train yourself to deal with it. We’re very adaptable creatures, but we need to be able to recognise patterns around us to do that. If there is no pattern, then how can we possibly make predictions? Without predictions, how can we possibly feel secure about our future? Having said all that, I was never abused in any way growing up, but I was sometimes neglected by my young mother, who was only 16 when she gave birth to me. Of course, it’s understandable now, but from a child’s perspective all you think is ‘why doesn’t my mum want me?’ When she sends you to your room for no reason and tells you not to come down for hours at a time. I asked ‘why’ a lot. Never got a good reason. I’m sure plenty of people who were raised by a drug-addicted parent can relate to this. She herself was a good mother, not amazing, but good. She told me she loved plenty of times, she gave me what she could, including a little sister when I was three years old. I think it was shortly after her birth that mum started taking heroin. It was only during drug education in year five of school (I would have been about 11) that I put the pieces together. She hid her addiction pretty well from us, but I sometimes found pieces of tin foil lying around the living room with lines of black residue on them, and once or twice witnessed her junkie friends ‘nodding off.’ There’s also a clear memory in my mind of being taken along by her and my nan to score some brown out of town and I can picture in my head the massive set of old-fashioned scales this drug dealer had sat on his coffee table right in front of me. I was too young to understand any of their lingo, though. Yes, I mentioned my nan, my mum’s mum. They got smacked up together, and they eventually got clean together. I’ll never know the details of how that came about because neither of them are alive anymore to ask. Mum died when I was 14 by taking an overdose of her methadone, then nan died when was 21 of a heart attack, likely due to the COPD she had developed from years of smoking.

My nan was so full of love for my mum, my sister and me. Some of my favourite childhood memories are being snuggled up in bed listening to her read me stories, which she did with flare and enthusiasm. She would affectionately call us her ‘wobblies,’ and give us more hugs kisses than we ever wanted. My mum definitely inherited her loving nature from her. But love on its own isn’t enough to keep kids clothed and fed and able to go out and do things. This is where the legend that is my grandad comes in. He is still going strong at 66 years old as of writing. God knows where I’d be without him. He’s been my father figure all my life since I never knew who or where my real dad was. He’s hard-working, reliable, responsible and strong. He supported us immensely despite not relating to him biologically. My biological grandfather was a free-spirited busker who liked to smoke and drink a lot, who I only met a hand full of times before he hanged himself when I was 19. His death did not affect me, but my mum’s and nan’s certainly did. I’ll probably have to see my grandad die as well eventually, and I don’t dread anything more.

Although I started off describing my family background by saying it’s obvious where my source of misery comes from, I must emphasise that my family is not the source of my misery. My childhood overall was pretty forgettable. I only have a few memories and they’re fond memories, despite the unfortunate situation I just described. Even getting my face ripped open by the neighbour’s dog when I was six didn’t faze me. It was only when puberty hit me that life started to feel horrible, and it just got worse.

I was an early bloomer, if blooming is what you call it. I call it mutating. I started getting hairy and growing tits when I was 10, and got my period about a year later. Now THAT is a traumatic memory. Waking up and going for a morning wee as usual, sitting down on the toilet and being overcome with horror at the sight of blood covering my pyjamas, realising there’s only one place that could have come from, then investigating the source only to confirm ‘Oh shit, I’m bleeding from between my legs!’ I was living with my nan and grandad at the time and I stayed there (or here, since I’m still living in the same house as of writing) under their guardianship while mum sorted herself out. After the shocking discovery of blood, I immediately ran into nan’s bedroom to wake her up. I vividly remember what and how she responded to me. With a sigh of what seemed like unsettling disappointment she said “Oh, darling, I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’ve got your period.’  I wonder now if she said it like that because she felt guilty for not warning me about this, as she should have. Someone should have. In all fairness I was young, but the other kids in my year at school were soon popping into adolescence alongside me, so I thought that soon enough everyone else would be going through what I was going through, but that wasn’t the case. I was bullied for having chronic acne. I was also a bit of a chubby boffin, but it was mostly the acne that people targeted me for. The girls shaved their legs once they started to get hairy, and I remember thinking ‘Damn, I suppose I’ve got to do that too,’ despite never wearing a skirt. They also seemed to relish in showing off and comparing their bras in the changing rooms, while I hid away as very best as I could. Make-up was a constant battle between students and teachers because they all wanted to look pretty, but it wasn’t allowed in middle school (Year 5-8), so luckily, I had an excuse for not wearing it. I’d regularly complain to my family about hating going to school, and how depressed I was, but it was all put down to teenage blues. ‘You’ll be alright once your hormones settle down,’ I was told more than once.  I remember my nan telling me I would miss going to school when I was older and so far she’s been proven wrong.