#like I think I just quit deciphering between nightmares and dreams eventually

[gonzodangerfeels]

Nice Mongolian eyes

[mikimakiboo]

Ya'll heard of disabled!Nightmare but may I interest you with some mute!Horror (And additionnal headcanons) ?

@unknownchoatic if you want to take a look into my interpretation of the disabled AU 👀👉🏻👈🏻

Horror isn't totally mute, it's more like aphasia than mutism, which means he has trouble speaking and finding the right words and is practically incapable of forming a full sentence, he also has trouble reading and, by extent, writing.

He became aphasic after Undyne's spear impaled his skull, which obviously caused a lot of brain damage and particularly in the area in charge of the speech, reading and all.

When he joined the bad sanses nobody noticed his struggles at first, they already had Dust who didn't talk much (he isn't mute, just doesn't talk a lot) so they thought he was just the silent type like him. But it soon became clear there was a broblem when he started mixing up words whenever he tried to speak, couldn't decipher written instructions or struggled to write his reports.

However they first thought that maybe he didn't know how to read/write, but it wasn't logical as he was still a Sans, so that meant he was a scientific in his youth, that he must have known how to read and write, so the problem might have been something else entirely.

Surprisingly it was Killer who came up with the first hypothesis, one of which was that Horror was dyslexic, which was close, but not quite that. After some time and researches they eventually managed to find out he was aphasic.

At that point Dust took the responsibility to teach everyone sign language, since he was the only one knowing it at the time, so that Horror could communicate easier and the others would understand him. He still has troubles sometimes with hand placement but he can now communicate !

As for the instructions, Nightmare gave him a magnetophone so he can hear them rather than read them. For the reports it's usually Killer or Dust who write them for him, he signs what he wants them to write and they translate.

On the fluffy side, they sometimes read him stories since he cannot read them himself.

Now for the additionnal headcanons that have nothing to do with disability:

- he likes woodcarving, he often sculpts little animals and give them to each member of the gang (including Nightmare) to show his affection towards them, they are very pretty !

- he cannot see pictures in his mind, I don't know how to describe it but like when he thinks about an apple, for exemple, he doesn't see an apple in his mind, he has the concept, the word, he knows what it looks like and can describe it but he just doesn't visualize it. Same when he sleeps, his dreams are made of sounds and sometimes shades of lights, but no images (aphantasia)

- his pupil will round up like a cat when he sees something or someone he likes

- he's very strong physically but very weak when it comes to magic because his magic had to adapt in his world in order to keep him alive, he has a strong immune system due to that but struggles a lot with magic attacks such as creating bones, blasters or simply teleporting, that is why he mainly uses his axe. Also due to his weak magic he needs to have a balance between food and sleep, if he doesn't sleep or eat properly he will pass out and won't wake up until his body regained enough energy, sometimes it's only a few hours but if he pushed his limits too far it can last a few days

[yungchaeng]

Popstar (Twice series: Nayeon)

II: Sunset genre: angst - word count: 2097

Life was bleak to say the least. Days, months, years passed but it had never felt the same since you said goodbye to Nayeon. Your apartment felt empty without her bouncing around. Cooking was not the same without her arms wrapped around you from behind. Your world was quiet without Nayeon’s giggle. You even missed her slapping your arm whenever she laughed uncontrollably.

You missed her.

After the break-up you had stuffed the memories that you had with her away. Although, as if the world was playing some kind of joke on you, you saw her face every day. On every billboard, on your social media feed, every time you turned on the TV. Nayeon was there.

Especially the last few months, your ex-girlfriend had been inescapable. With the roll-out of both her solo work and Twice’s new comeback she was everywhere all the time. Although your heart hurt hearing her songs, or seeing her face – you couldn’t help but smile every time.

Above everything, you were still so incredibly proud of her and all she had achieved. The love and admiration you still had for her allowed to, at least sometimes, see passed the hurt of all that happened back then.

Though sometimes that tricked you,and made you wonder about whether breaking up was really the right thing to do. Was anything really worth losing the love of your life over?

“Hey,” the tentative voice of your co-worker awoke you from your daydreaming. She pointed to the speaker in the corner of the room. “I could skip it?”

You focused your attention on what was playing and almost in an instant, you recognised her voice. Nayeon. The voice that had once whispered to you how much she loved you, and that often sang you to sleep was to be heard singing beautifully. It was one of her solo songs, Sunset, one of your personal favourites. On some nights, whenever hearing her voice felt like a necessity to you, you would lie in bed and turn it on.

In my dream, I just gave you my star.

I feel silly when I look into your eyes.

It feels a dream for a while.

Eventually, you disappear.

I’m more desperate for you on a day like this,

I think it hurts more without you.

You’d let your imagination wander and would wonder whether she wrote those lyrics about you, about what you once had together. But of course, that could only be if she even still thought about you at all.

With a sigh you looked around the almost empty coffee shop. “Maybe it’s better to turn it off.” You replied. “I’m about to close anyway.”

With time the last customer left and so did your co-worker. By yourself in the shop, you wiped down the counters and re-set the workplace for your co-workers in the morning. You softly hummed to yourself when the door opened, a little tune announcing that someone had walked in. Scolding yourself for forgetting to lock the door after your co-worker left, you spoke up. “I’m afraid that we’re…”

Your words trailed off as you looked up at the customer that just walked in. looking into her eyes again after all of these years, it was as if the world stopped spinning or as if you were dreaming. Whether it was a good dream or a nightmare, you didn’t know for sure…but there she stood, right in front of you. She had a slight smile on her lips and a look in her eye that you couldn’t quite decipher, but there she stood.

“Do you have time for one more?” Nayeon spoke, “just the regular.”

All you could do was slowly nod, and you turned around to fill the machine that you just cleaned with coffee beans. Your shaky hands moved out of muscle memory when you made her drink. You remembered it as if it was yesterday that you assembled the ingredients for your girlfriend and she would squeal in excitement that you made it even better than the last time.

The silence was deafening. Somewhere deep within you, there was a battle going on between the side of you that hoped that she would be there when you turned back around and the side that wished she would have given up and walked out the door.

However, when you turned, there she was still. It was no longer an ambitious young girl that stood before you, but an accomplished and elegant young woman. It was Nayeon, once your Nayeon.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and handed her the drink. You averted your gaze to the door behind her, too nervous to look her in the eye.

 “It’s better than I remember.” The girl smiled after she took a sip. “…Hi.”

“Hey.”

You heard Nayeon sigh. If you had the heart to, you would try to see if you could derive what she was thinking by the look on her face – as you always could before. However, you figured it better to keep staring away from her. It was the only way you could imagine to keep your composure.

“You know,” she started with a slight chuckle. “I’ve tried this drink all over Seoul, the world even, but out of all the barista’s there’s-“

“None like me, right?”

Finally you looked into her eyes. She was slightly taken aback by hearing you echo the words you had told her all those years ago. Or maybe she was surprised about the sharpness of your voice. Whatever it was, you couldn’t really think. You couldn’t do this. This small talk with her as if she was just any customer, as if you haven’t been hung up over her every day for a considerable amount of your life, as if she wasn’t the love of your life and she didn’t break your heart or you didn’t break hers in return…you couldn’t do this.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” You swallowed away an already forming lump in your throat. She cast her eyes down to the floor, shook her head and tried to hand you some money. “On the house.” You simply spoke, and started cleaning the machine again.

“I’m sorry. I thought…” She spoke from behind you. Her voice was shaky and you wiped away a tear from your eye, glad that she couldn’t see you cry. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

You stood there for a second as you heard her footsteps, waiting for the tune to announce her leaving. When it didn’t, you turned finding her with her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. The room was silent, for just a second, until her timid voice sounded again.

“You know, when I got it all…the recognition, the fame, the money, I finally felt complete.” She turned to you and your heart broke all over again at the sight of the tears in her eyes. “I finally felt complete, but then you left and I realised… it was because of you all along.”

You paused, biting down your lip and feeling a tear of your own flow down your cheek. “I’m proud of you, Nayeon.” You evaded the last part of what she told you, but your words held nothing but the truth. “I’m seeing what you’re achieving and I’m rooting for you.”

“You always have.” She said as she made her way back over to you. Nayeon looked over at the napkins on the counter and smiled at you. Although she cried, her smile was bright, revealing her teeth. It was the smile you never thought you’d see anymore, at least not in real life. “You remember when we first met?”

She had come into your work that day for the first time. Your cheeks heated up as you took her order from the way she was staring you down flirtatiously. When she left she had scribbled her autograph on a napkin and handed it to you. “In case I get famous one day.” She had jokingly said. In your relationship it had become some sort of a running joke in which you said that you’d sold it for a lot of money, but to this day it was stored safely in your room.

You smiled along with her, for a small moment bantering together as you always did before. “How could I forget?”

“It was never supposed to end like that, you know?” The other girl said, “You and I. We were supposed to be forever, right?”

Shaking your head, you spoke “We were kids, Nayeon. We had some growing up to do.”

“But I let my career come between us, and-“

“Nayeon, I love—…loved you. Every single part of you.” If things were different you would walk over to her, hold her. But they weren’t so you remained standing, a countertop between you and the person that was once your other half. “Your ambition was one of those. You weren’t you without it.”

Nayeon sighed, “Do you still? Love me, I mean?”

“Nayeon…”

“Do you?” she asked again, firmer this time. “Because I love you. I never stopped loving you. For so long, I’ve tossed and turned and thought about you…and maybe I just have to know.”

At the sound of her confirming what you’ve wondered all this time, you let your tears run free. “Please…let’s not start something we can’t finish.”

“I was so confused when you left…” she went on, perhaps not even having heard you at all. “and I had so many questions and maybe what I need is just…I need you to look me in the eye and tell me. Do you still love me?”

You buried your head in your hands and let it all out. After all of the denying that you’d been doing, after all of the avoiding – here she stood. And you couldn’t lie to her. You never could. So you simply sobbed as you nodded your head, the sounds of your sniffs filling up the room. The other girl held onto your wrist and through teary eyes you looked at her.

“Then that’s all we need, right? It can be different this time.” She reassured.

“How can I believe that after everything that has happened, Nayeon?”

“Because I will be different. I will never be that version of me again.” She held onto you tighter and tried to find your eyes. “And the company has eased up as well. You know, other members have had public relationships and-“

“It’s not the same with us, Nayeon!” You surprised yourself at the tone of your voice. You loosened yourself from her grip and made a move to straighten your clothes – to compose yourself one way or the other.

“Why not?!” The other girl matched your tone.

You moved away from Nayeon and leaned against the wall behind you. With a small sigh you spoke, “You know why…”

Nayeon opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She just simply nodded and furrowed her eyebrows. She grabbed a napkin, withdrew a pen from her bag and wrote on it. “Well, fuck that.” She spoke, under her breath. “I want you. Fully this time. I want you completely.” She laid the napkin down on the counter and turned to walk away. “Just one more chance and you’ll see. I’ll be different.”

As she walked over to the door, you grabbed the napkin. Her phone number had been hurriedly scribbled on it. When you looked up, the girl was already halfway out the door.

You wanted to call out for her, or run to her and kiss her. You wanted to tell her that you’d try again. You’d tell her how much you missed her and regret having walked away the first time. You’d tell her the truth, which sadly was that you’d try again – even if things were exactly the way they were before. So, perhaps for the best, you held your tongue.

“I don’t want all of this without you.” She sighed. Before leaving, she shot you a glance with a sad smile on her face. “For what it’s worth…I really am sorry. For everything.”

Just as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone. You gripped the napkin in your fist and took a deep breath. It was easier when the idea of getting back together with Nayeon was just that, an idea – one you could give yourself every excuse for not to realise.

But now there was a one way ticket back to the love of your life, right there in the palm of your hand and you had to make the decision: to call, or not to.

[swanimagines]

Hey, E27. Waking up after a nightmare with Kaz please? Thank you 💗

Fandom: Shadow and Bone

A/N: I'm also working on a second version of this where Kaz is the one who has the nightmare because I couldn't decide between the two. But I hope you like this first version! It almost made itself out as a oneshot but I ultimately decided to publish it as a drabble as it didn't quite reach the 1k mark.

Warnings: nightmares, mentions of death and violence

Word count: almost 1k

“Let go of me!” you screamed as you saw your best friend reaching out to you.

“Y/N, don’t go, please! Help me!” Disa screamed after you, but the Crows dragged you away, not caring about Disa's pleas.

“Let go, they need help!”

“They can’t be helped anymore, Y/N!” Kaz shouted and you let out another sob.

“Let go of me! No!”

“No!” you screamed as you shot up in your bed, immediately hearing footsteps lunging from upstairs and soon Kaz was at your door, ready to fight, but instead he was met with you sweaty and crying, and he let out a tiny sigh of relief as he realized that you were physically okay.

But Kaz knew far too well how you felt. He had had violent nightmares about Jordie and the sea for years. Your nightmares were still fresh and there was so many routes they could make, never leaving you alone. Always taking you by surprise, making it a terrifying experience each time.

Despite Kaz knowing how such nightmares felt like, he didn’t really know how to comfort you. You were covered in sweat and getting your erratic breathing in control, but your eyes still held that look of terror. Kaz tried to think something to say, but he couldn’t think of anything. So he just sat beside the bed, placing his cane in between his legs.

If Kaz was anyone else, you both being quiet in such situation would have been weird or awkward, but you knew Kaz well enough to know that him sitting there and not just leaving after seeing you were physically alright was his way to comfort you. He was wordlessly telling you that you’re safe and at the Slat. You weren’t there in the middle of a heist, forced to watch your best friend bleeding out.

Kaz felt guilty about making you go through that. You and Disa were inseparable, and a heist he had planned had went south after a guard had left the duty to make out with his girlfriend in that very room where they were performing a heist. Disa hadn’t reacted quickly enough and they had been shot. You had tried to stay behind to help them, but the rest of the crows knew they were already gone. Kaz had personally pulled you away, defied his touch aversion to snatch your wrist and pull you away by force, letting Inej take control after that.

You were screaming at them, begging, ordering them to let go because you had to save Disa and it broke Kaz’s heart despite him showing out a stony, emotionless expression. When you just wouldn’t calm down and almost escaping Inej, Matthias had to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder so you’d all make it out alive. You called all of them heartless monsters, but they all had seen it, you included. The light Disa always had in their eyes had dimmed the moment they fell to the floor. There was no way of saving them. You knew it too deep inside, but you had refused to believe it for weeks. You had refused to talk to the crew for a few days and they had left you food behind your door. But eventually you understood that it wasn’t their fault. Your mind had told you that from the beginning, but during your heartbreak you couldn’t decipher why they wouldn’t even try saving them. The Crows knew how close you and Disa were, and they wouldn't even try.

But now, when Kaz sat by your bedside, you could almost see Disa smiling teasingly at you. They had always told you that Kaz likes you and you had shoved their shoulder, grinning from ear to ear as your face heated up.

“Shut up,” you heard your echoing voice saying. Now the memory almost made you cry. It felt so distant and unreal. That they had been just a dream, only here for a little while, their life borrowed to grace you with their presence.

Kaz looked down, his eyes skimming your pile of books you kept beside your bed as you hugged your knees.

“Can I read to you?” Kaz suddenly asked. Your eyes shot up at him in surprise. Disa always used to lull you into sleep by reading a chapter of a book if you needed help with sleeping. Kaz knew that. You stared at him, completely dumbfounded by his question.

“What?” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself and you wanted to slap yourself right after. “I- I mean that… yeah. If you want to.”

Kaz nodded, picking up a book that had been lying there since Disa had put it down after they had heard you snoring. He ran his gloved hand over the fancy cover before he opened it and moved the bookmark to the side.

“It was dark, but it was comforting. Mori sat in the candlelight and just listened to the sound of the old building quietly creaking in the wind, and smiled to herself.” he began, and you already felt much more calm and content. It felt like Disa had dropped by and asked Kaz to continue the tradition they had started together. To bring you closer. It would be so like them, and listening to Kaz’s voice and smiling at him a bit as his eyes looked at the book, his lips moving just slightly as he read with a quiet and calming voice, and it made you feel like maybe Disa was now in peace. And you had a tingle of hope, hope that you could be happy again someday.

Kaz rarely showed kindness like this, but when he did, it was valued more than all the riches in the world.

[genshin-garbage]

Shit Stew

Lumine is sick, and when she’s sick she especially misses her brother. Luckily, she has Paimon and her boyfriend Venti to cheer her up with some... questionable food.

“Hnnnngg” Lumine rolls on to her back. She’s been burning up since this morning. Venti brings over a pail of cool water and a wet cloth over to her bed. As he puts the cloth on her forehead, Lumine groans out more in her sleep.

“Aether... no... don’t leave me alone.... come back...” Lumine’s breathing becomes heavy so Venti nudges her a little to wake her up.

“Lumi, wake up.” Lumine opens her eyes, she was sweaty and confused, “Hey Lumi, don’t worry, it’s just a nightmare, I’m here.” Venti holds Lumine’s hand as to reassure her.

“Venti? When did you get here? Am I sick? I feel like shit.” Lumine tries to sit up but is gently pushed back down.

“Paimon let me in. I hadn’t seen you today so I was worried. You have a fever love.” Venti brushes his fingers through Lumine’s hair. “Are you ok? You had a nightmare.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I had a dream about my brother again. I miss him a lot. He would take care of me whenever I got sick.” Lumine brings Venti’s hand to her cheek, “Your hand is cool, it feels nice.”

Venti blushes, “You should go back to sleep. Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?”

Lumine smiles, “I’d like that.”

So Venti sings her a sweet song from Mondstadt’s past and slowly, Lumine fell asleep. Her body was exhausted but she didn’t seem to be having a nightmare. His song reached its end and Venti got up to leave the room to allow Lumine to rest.

“Is Lumine going to be ok?!” Paimon raced up to the bard as soon as she saw him exit the room “Poor Lumine looked awful!”

“Shhhhh, dear Lumine is asleep so I’d advise you to keep your voice down to a peep. She should be fine after some rest, but perhaps we can do something to ease her pain.”

“Hmmm.” Paimon thought about what they could do. “Oh! Paimon remembers Lumine mentioning a stew her brother would make whenever she was sick. Maybe we can make her that. I’m sure Paimon can find a recipe in one of Lumine’s cooking journals.”

“A splendid idea. She seemed to be missing her brother so I’m sure she would appreciate something that brings memories of her brother.” Venti nods “Alright then, let’s find that recipe.”

Paimon and Venti shuffle through Lumine’s bag of books. Eventually they find a book made from a material that can’t be found in Tevat. Using what Paimon knows of Lumine’s native language (which is surprisingly a lot), they decipher the title to be “Aether’s original recipes”.

“Hmmm, keep turning the pages, I’ll tell you when to stop.” Venti flips through the pages slowly until they reach the page they were looking for.

“It says “Sick Stew”. This should be it, though it has some strange ingredients.” Paimon reads it out loud, “Hot slimes, spicy chilies, meat, grounded dry grass, broth made of a cold plants and bugs from hot climates. Paimon thinks it sounds more like a potion than a stew.”

“You’re right but it’s worth a shot. How bad could it be?” Venti said with a smirk.

It was so much worse than either of them had anticipated.

The actual cooking process was fine, the instructions were clear enough. However when they tasted the stew, not even Paimon could stomach it.

“Paimon thinks it tastes like vomit, and it’s aftertaste is like if the sound of scraping your nails across a chalkboard had a taste.” Paimon groaned in between spits. “It’s so awful.”

“I concur.” Venti held the trash can close just in case he vomited, “We followed the directions to the tea, so what went wrong..”

“Venti... Paimon... What’s that smell” Lumine’s voice was heard from the kitchen. “I’m hungry, bring me some of whatever you’re making.” Venti and Paimon went wide eyed, the smell was awful and yet she still wanted some? How congested was she?

“Should we?” Paimon asked Venti who was staring at the pot.

“I guess, we can bring it to her and if she thinks it looks bad to eat we can just get rid of it.” Venti grabbed a bowl and spoon and placed it on a tray, he also grabbed some water and went into Lumine’s room.

“Venti?! What’s wrong?! Did I get you sick?” Lumine looked worriedly at Venti, who’s face was pale due to the smell and lingering aftertaste of the stew.

“I’m quite alright love, me and Paimon made a stew that your brother would make for you.” Lumine slowly sat up as Venti placed the tray onto her lap.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, Paimon can get something from Good Hunter.” Paimon said as she floated to the other side of Lumine.

“No! It actually smells amazing! Thank you.” She takes a deep whiff of the smell and digs in. After a few bites Lumine starts to cry.

“Ah! Is it that bad? Please don’t cry! You really don’t have to eat it love.”

“No! I- I love it! It tastes just like how Aether would make it! It’s really good!” Lumine holds the bowl protectively as she eats it. Her skin seemed to regain some color as she digs in. Paimon and Venti stare in both wonder and horror as she enjoys her meal, wondering how she managed to enjoy the monstrosity.

When she finally finished her meal she yawned and put the tray on the bedside table. She kisses Venti on the cheek “I love you so much, thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome love. We’ll let you rest now.” Venti turns to leave the room.

“Wait!” Lumine grabs onto Venti’s wrist “Please stay. Come sleep with me please.”

Lumine looks at Venti with puppy dog eyes and he easily caves, “If that is what my lady wishes, I’ll stay. I’ll sing you another lullaby too.” He takes off his shoes, hat, and cape and crawls into the bed. He holds Lumine’s body against his and hums a tune. Paimon also crawls into bed with them, opting to curl herself up against Lumine’s stomach from on top of the covers. When the girls were asleep, Venti placed a chaste kiss on top of Lumine’s head.

“Sweet dreams my beloved traveler.”

[snapetrash]

so I wrote a crack fic where Snape and Harry smoke weed and talk about their problems. kinda.  It’s posted on Ao3 if you want to read it there. It’s pretty ooc and an adult smokes weed and tobacco with an underage student, so there’s your warning for moral ambiguity. Starts at the beginning of book 5, in an AU where everything is the same except Harry picks up a smoking habit to self medicate his slightly crippling anxiety and depression. Looking for a Beta so let me know if you’re interested!!!

Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys had been here for weeks while he had to deal with his relatives, and fucking demetors- what a load of bollocks. Harry dumped his trunk and bags in his room and made a beeline for the attic of Grimmauld Place, grabbing his pack of menthols and lighter as he went.

 They’d arrived at the Order headquarters a little after 2 am, so he knew no one would come looking for him until morning. He’d told Remus after a brief hug that he was exhausted before he’d headed to his room. Harry climbed the rickety, spiraling stairs leading to the topmost floor of Grimmauld without so much as a glance behind him. 

Harry knew Sirius was in the house somewhere, and probably awake, but anxiety and anger had tied his stomach in knots. He would go see his godfather after his smoke. After. Everything had to come after he’d had a moment to himself, or he’d blow up and regret everything. 

As he struggled to wrench open the window, he briefly considered smoking inside, smell and lingering smoke bedamned, but as the thought crossed his mind the window gave a little shriek and popped open. Harry crawled out onto the dirty shingles and moved to sit beside the window, looking out onto the backyard of the house. 

He opened his pack, pulled out a joint and popped it in his mouth, lighting up and taking a deep, fortifying breath. Harry’s eyes fell closed as he inhaled deeply, pulling in air after his hit and exhaling, long and measured. As he went to take another hit, he opened the pack of cigarettes one more time to retrieve a menthol and tuck it behind his ear, for later. His hair was such a mess that it covered the white of the paper completely, and kept the fug from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be fun if he was caught and chewed out by Mrs. Weasley for smoking. 

The sky was dark and overcast, sounds of the city muffled by the powerful wards on the house. It was a fairly hot night, temperature perfect for Harry and his penchant for being chilly in all seasons. After three or four hits he could feel the tension bleed from his body, finally making way for bone deep exhaustion.

“ Potter, what on earth-” If Harry hadn’t been halfway through his joint, he would’ve startled at the sound of Snape’s irritated growl coming from the window beside him. But he’d been awake for more than 24 hours, and hadn’t had a decent meal for just as long. The energy to care about being caught smoking on a roof by his professor? He just didn’t have it at the moment. 

“Are you smoking pot?” The utter incredulity in the Potion Master’s voice prompted Harry to actually turn and look at the other man. Snape was leaning out the window, arms braced on the sil with his wand in a relatively loose grip. He was wearing what looked like a long sleeve tee and worn sweatpants- both black of course- but surprisingly muggle. It made the older man look softer, younger; the small part of Harry’s brain that hadn’t checked out the moment he lit up was shocked at how Snape looked, even as he glared at him. 

There were other things Harry noticed about him too; his paler-than-usual pallor, the way his body seemed wound tight like a spring and the heavy-lidded exhaustion in his eyes. Snape wasn’t staring him down, not like usual. No, he seemed like maybe he’d come for a bit of solitude too. In fact, when Harry’s gaze flicked down to the potion master’s hands he saw a wooden pipe, shiny and black just like the rest of him, clutched in his non-wand hand. 

It was 2 am and everyone else in the house was probably in bed. Harry realized he’d been staring, not answering, and Snape was looking tenser and moodier by the second.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” He blurted out, immediately regretting everything. Fuck, he was gonna get so many detentions. But Snape was wearing pajamas, it was beyond strange, and Harry had gone ahead and said the first thing that’d come to his mind like a complete idiot. 

Snape gave him a look of utter loathing, like he was thinking the exact same thing. Harry couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes, and again did something incredibly stupid. Marijuana in the wizarding world didn’t hold the same weight as it did for muggles, but still. He was sure there was a rule written somewhere that said ‘thou shalt not smoke cannabis with thy potions master.’ or something. 

Harry offered him the joint wordlessly. It was quite a normal gesture, in general terms; Snape stared at the offending apparatus in what seemed like numb shock, his eyes a little wide, his mouth drawn down into a tight line. It hung in the air between them, and just as Harry thought that maybe he really was going to die at the hands of his teacher that hated him, the older wizard reached out and plucked the burning thing from his fingers. 

The moment Snape took it, instead of watching him(his fucking professor!) Harry grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up just in time to see Snape exhale a fat cloud of smoke and look at the joint with a thoughtful expression. After a moment they swapped; Snape had the cigarette and Harry had the joint. 

The younger wizard watched the other inhale and grimace, before his professor quietly muttered. “Of course you would smoke this muggle menthol crap.” 

Harry snorted. “You certainly aren’t the first one to give me shit for it.” 

This was probably the quietest, nicest moment he’d ever had in Snape’s presence. Who knew all it took was a little weed to win over the nasty dungeon bat? Harry had to force a cough, lest he giggle at the thought. 

The deserted city before them had infected both wizards with a sense of calm; no nightmares, or oaths or dark lords could reach them here. When Harry saw the joint going down, he pulled out another and put the other out in seamless rotation. Snape made a soft noise that might’ve been a scoff, but otherwise said nothing and took a long drag of the new joint. 

Neither man knew how they’d stumbled upon this fragile peace, but they weren’t going to go out of their way to break it now. Still, Harry couldn’t resist pushing his luck.

“I keep waiting to wake up from this bizarre dream, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He muttered with humor. 

Snape side-eyed him, blowing a bit of smoke out before fucking smirking “Why does it matter? No one would believe you if you told them about this.”

That had Harry fighting back horrified laughter, coughing a little on the smoke caught in his throat, because this was another level and who knew his evil git of a teacher could be so devious? In a funny way, not his usual ‘Potter, detention for breathing’ way.  Stealing a glance at Snape, he saw that he’d relaxed a lot more. He had an elbow on the sill, his chin propped up in his hand- and a little quirk on his lips that was almost a smile.

This side of Snape was completely new to Harry; but he vowed silently to himself that he’d try to draw it out as often as he could. Clearly the guy was under a lot of pressure, playing for both sides. Maybe he was a completely different person, outside of all the acting and playing the field he had to do. 

“You’re different, like this.” Harry’s brain to mouth filter had said sayonara at this point; the small part of his mind that was rational, and screaming at him to ‘shut up, Potter, you utter wanker’ was drowned out by his high and the strange night. 

“I know we have to keep hating each other- keep up appearances, I mean- um. But I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I just- I’ve been realizing how much you do for the war, for me and I- You’re not a bad guy at all, is what I might be saying. Who knows, I’m stoned. Ignore me.” Please, Harry, shut the fuck up now. 

Snape’s burning gaze bore holes into his forehead as he hurriedly stuck his fug in his mouth to silence himself. The younger wizard didn’t take his eyes off his own hands, cheeks burning, waiting for the end. 

“Why in Merlin’s name would you want to spend any more time with me than you have to? It’s not like I haven’t given you every reason to hate me that I could think of.” The older man replied, and oh god, both of them were way too tired and totally not sober enough to have this kind of conversation. If they were sober they would never have it in the first place. 

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, not sure how to respond. “Well it’s not like I didn’t figure that out eventually- and you’re one of the few people in this entire, fucked up secret society that treats me like a normal person. From everyone else it’s either hero worship, pity, or they hate me for shite I can’t control.” He paused and took another drag of his cigarette. “Or they expect me to be a carbon copy of my dad. I guess you also did that for a while too, but you have to keep up appearances for the all the kids reporting back to their death eater parents.” 

Snape turned his eyes on Harry again, showing a myriad of emotions across his face, all hard to decipher. He seemed almost angry. “Don’t be daft. I publicly humiliate you whenever I have the chance. I’m not a nice man, it wasn’t always an act!” 

“Well you just admitted that it’s an act now! Why are you so afraid to admit you like me, professor?” That shut Snape up pretty effectively, because all he did was relight the joint that had gone out in his hands. 

Harry sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees, facing Snape. “You’ve always reminded me of my muggle teachers in elementary, kind of. The ones that knew from speaking to Petunia that I was a delinquent, but were still determined to teach me. It gave me a sense of normalcy amongst all the magic, in a place where suddenly I was popular and sought after for a glorified tragedy I don’t even remember. I dunno.” he laughed bitterly, remembering his first year. The months after his letter came, wondering if he’d go to sleep after classes that night and wake up in the cupboard. 

Snape looked very tired, as if every word Harry spoke took what little energy he had left. “You’re not anything like your father was, as your age. How could you be, you’ve never met the man.” He mumbled the last sentence, but Harry heard it anyway. 

“Exactly! You understand. Fuck.” The teenager took a shaking breath, and then the joint when Snape passed it to him. They fumbled for a second when he nearly dropped it, hands brushing in the dark, but it made its way into Harry’s shaking hands and he hit it once, with feeling. 

After a few minutes of silence in which they finished the second joint, and Snape lit his pipe(which to Harry’s surprise) actually had weed in it. They passed it back and forth for a little while longer. 

“Albus wants me to teach you Legilimency this year. You’ll come to my office once a week after class, and call it remedial potions when anyone asks.” 

“Cool, we’ll be able to hang out more without anyone around to ruin it.” Harry replied absently. When he realized that he’d just indicated, verbally, that he’d enjoy hanging out with Snape(and his mind was really blown at that one) he looked up to see Snape staring at him with his eyebrow raised, a picture of unimpressed. 

“You realize you’re going to actually have to learn to be a Legilimens, right Potter?” 

“Oh yeah. It might just be the weed, but I’m feeling much better about it now than I would’ve if we hadn’t had this conversation.” The teen replied with good humor. It was true; he was feeling much better about Snape in general. Harry remembered how much of a hardass his professor was, and was quick to reassure him. “I’ll do my best to learn all I can from you.”

Snape’s face softened a little. “See that you do, Potter.” He straightened, Placing his pipe in his pocket and pulling himself back into the attic. The older man reached a hand out for Harry to help him inside. “Come now. It’s bedtime for wizarding saviors.” 

Harry smiled, caught the larger, rougher hand in his own and allowed himself to be lightly manhandled back into the attic. He felt beyond tired. When he stumbled on the stairs, Snape dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and left it there. 

“To the kitchen first, I have a vial of dreamless sleep for you.” Snape said quietly. The younger man grunted a wordless acknowledgement and they made their way together through the house. The potions master beelined to a high cabinet in the corner and pulled out two small bottles, uncorking one and downing it and passing the other to Harry. 

“Thanks, professor. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Snape was rewarded with a blinding smile as Harry made his way upstairs. He went to his room, and fell asleep quicker than he’d had in years.

[autistic-stedebonnet]

I can’t thing of a title, sorry

Shirbert fic :D

a teeny tiny bit of angst (Anne gets angry at Gilbert)

happy ending because i can’t do sad stuff

sorry that i can’t do the keep reading thing, it doesn’t work on a mobile device and i don’t have another device i can use tumblr on

enjoy! :)

• • •

There were quite a few problems that came with Ms. Stacy being on a two week trip in Toronto. The first being that well... she wasn’t there. The second problem was that they had a substitute. But there was one more. There was nothing particularly wrong with said substitute, in fact, he was quite a fine teacher. While his ways were admittedly, a bit more conservative, his teaching methods weren’t too much unlike Ms. Stacy’s.

And he wasn’t cruel, not at all. He seemed to enjoy having an air of lightheartedness in the classroom, and would never dream of whipping a student.

He was quick to get to know his temporary pupils, and while he didn’t know a whole lot, it only took him a few hours to memorize names and take down notes. For example, the tall raven haired boy and the sharp little redhead were tied for top of the class. He knew to keep an eye on the slightly meaty brunette boy, but the gun he carried on his back gave that away immediately. And he was quick to notice that calling out the small girl in pink in front of the whole class would only result in tears. No, that wasn’t the problem either.

He was kind, witty, a wonderful teacher, and he seemed to truly enjoy his profession. That was not the issue.

And you can’t really blame him for the comment, he’d made a few similar ones in the past, and it resulted in giggles and a moment of red faces, before the classroom returned to normal. “Miss Pye, i would ask you to leave your note writing for after class, I’m sure Mister Andrews can wait 10 minutes.” That was fine. “Moody Spurgeon, while i don’t doubt that Miss Barry’s hair ribbon is very intriguing, I’d encourage you to focus on the lesson.” Once again, no problems.

The problem was, he hadn’t been there long enough to understand the... relationships between the students. He was well aware of Anne and Diana’s friendship, and the fact that Gilbert didn’t seem to be too close to the other boys, but those were the obvious things. Really, you can’t blame him, even Ms. Stacy was still trying to decipher the not so obvious things. But regardless, whoever the blame belonged to, you can’t turn back the clock.

It happened the Wednesday before his departure, a fine spring day. There’d been no incident, aside from Billy Andrews being 20 minutes late. There was less than an hour left and they were nearing the end of a geometry lesson, when he glanced up from the chalkboard.

He sighed quietly and cleared his throat, to no avail. “Mister Blythe, I’d kindly ask you to focus on the lesson, not the back of Miss Shirley’s head. He expected giggling, and for a swift return to their books, but he was sorely mistaken. There was no laughing, and for a moment it seemed Anne’s hair had fallen in front of her beet red face. This was nothing compared to Gilbert however, who had buried his flustered face in his geometry book as if he’d never seen a sphere in his whole life. A quick glance made it quite clear that not a single pupil was focused on geometry. He pinched the bridge of his nose and silently cursed at himself. Looking at the clock, he waved his hand, releasing the students 20 minutes early.

~~~

The flowers were in full bloom that morning, much to Anne’s delight. They were, by far, more interesting than the lesson. And she’d catch up fine, she always did.

She sighed and sank her chin further into her palms, a smile teasing at the edges of her lips. Finally breaking from her daydream, Anne turned to focus on the chalkboard. She’d grown to like the substitute. He wasn’t a kindred spirit like Ms. Stacy, but he’d do fine for two weeks.

She caught herself glancing over at a certain boy ever so often, but she didn’t like him. She was simply making sure he didn’t finish the problem before her. Nothing else. She turned back to her slate, determined not to look at him anymore, for the rest of the day.

And then it happened.

Geometry was not Anne’s finest subject, but she’d MUCH prefer it to this. And to think! She begun to like this man. She would’ve laughed at such a notion, had she not been more embarrassed than she ever had been or ever would be. This, she decided, was the pinnacle of mortification. She was just sure that Gilbert had been thinking of more creative insults based on her hair, because what else would’ve caused... that.

She didn’t notice the fact that she was staring, blank faced and red cheeked, at the front of the classroom. Nor did she notice the wave of the teacher’s hand, or Diana’s hand on her shoulder. But she had to stand up eventually. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe if she sat there long enough, she’d realize it was all a stupid dream, a nightmare. She pinched herself roughly, about 3 times. Nope, even her wild imagination couldn’t conjure up this.

She’d stood up at some point, she knew that, but only because she was now standing in the coat room. She was vaguely aware of someone attempting to apologize, but she didn’t really hear it clearly.

“Anne?”

That, that was what broke her from her trance. That stupid voice, that sounded just too caring, just too kind. She narrowed her bright eyes up at him, failing to observe how incredibly pink his entire face was. “What.” She practically growled at him, gritting her teeth. “Thinking of more cruel ways to mock my hair?” She sneered at him, quick to mask the glimmer of hope begging to be noticed.

He seemed taken aback, surprised. “What?” He replied, as if offended by her accusation. “No, no of course not, I-“

“I don’t care.” Anne cut him off, hating the fact that she observed the sudden pain behind his eyes. He looked... hurt? No, crestfallen. She shook the thought away. Who was she to care about Gilbert Blythe’s emotions? She turned on her heel and marched out of the school, braids swinging angrily behind her.

Gilbert fought the sudden urge to shoot a glare at the substitute teacher, who was silently packing his things, but backed out to chase Anne down the path. “Anne!”

She sped up her pace, turning into the woods, painfully aware that he’d be beside her soon if she didn’t run. So she did just that. Despite his advantage height-wise, she was swift and nimble, and didn’t find it too difficult to stay ahead of him.

Gilbert gave up when she began running, he wanted desperately to explain, but didn’t think it wise to attempt to rationalize with Anne in this state. He sighed in defeat and began to trudge towards his house.

***

Spring was Gilbert’s favorite season at the moment. With not a single cloud in the sky, the sun was able to peek through the window and trace Anne’s fiery hair in a halo of gold.

Her expression was so intent, so focused, and some might even think it was due to the lesson. The grin she wore told Gilbert otherwise though. Her lips were upturned slightly, and pinker than usual, due to the numerous strawberries she’d eaten at lunch. He wondered if her lips tasted like strawberries. He also wondered how on Earth anyone’s hair could be so breathtaking. Like she’d been crafted from the crimson autumn leaves and wrapped in a snake of fire. Her freckled were like sprinklings of cinnamon, he loved cinnamon.

And he truly didn’t mean to get distracted, or to smile like that. He intended for a quick glance or two, but that failed. He really did blame himself for what the substitute said. The day would’ve gone over fine if he’d been able to focus on the area of a triangle instead. But her hair was so beautiful. And there were leftover petals in it, from the flower crown she’d been wearing that morning. This made him even more sure that she’d been molded from the sun and the sky and the stars that twinkled behind nighttime clouds.

And then he said it. God, why’d he have to say that.

He soon gave up on chasing her through the trees, he didn’t know the area like she did. And besides, Bash and Mary probably needed help with supper.

***

“And she thought i was making fun of her hair?!” Gilbert brought the knife in his hand down furiously, the large potato on the counter victim to his frustrations.

Bash raised his eyebrows. “And what exactly were you doing Blythe.”

Gilbert attempted in vain to seem calm, collected. “N-nothing!” He sputtered.

“So was your teacher suffering from hallucinations?”

“No!” It seemed he was trying to go through both the potato and the cutting board. “Or, yes, no! I had just been...”

“Searching for excuses?”

“Looking out the window! Anne sits very close to the window.”

“Riiight,” Bash mused, grinning. “You weren’t staring at all, not in the slightest.”

Gilbert ignored the comment and continued attacking the cutting board.

***

“The nerve of him!” Anne wasn’t totally sure if she was yelling about the teacher, or Gilbert. “My hair is not a laughing matter.” She decided on Gilbert. She swung her foot at a nearby rock and had the sudden urge to scream when she narrowly missed it. “Really?!” She almost expected the trees to answer her, but wasn’t too shocked when they didn’t.

With a highly dramatic huff, she sat down on a nearby log, splashing mud on her apron. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes but she blinked roughly until they were gone. A small part of her knew that Gilbert wouldn’t mock her hair again, but why else would he be staring at her?

“I’m not going back until that horrid substitute is gone!” She decided, sticking her chin in the air defiantly. “And I actually thought Gilbert was my friend.” She scoffed indignantly and crossed her thin arms over her chest.

“I thought so too.”

Anne leapt up from her spot and yelled in surprise. “What are you doing here!”

Gilbert scratched his neck nervously and focused his gaze on the ground. “Well I was uh, looking for you, to apologize.”

Anne turned until she was directly facing him, her small face rigid with fury. “I don’t need your pity,” she snapped.

“I-I know, I just felt bad-“

“You felt bad huh?” She attempted to gaze at him angrily without staring upwards, a feat which would prove impossible. Anne hated that he genuinely looked sorry, she couldn’t be mad when he was actually sorry.

And she hated how kind his stupid eyes looked. A warm, olive green with flecks of gold and silver, dancing through his irises like stars at twilight. Her face burned as she realized what she’d been doing, and she quickly shook away the thought.

“Yes...” He raised one eyebrow, waiting for the rest of her outburst.

“Well!” Anne hoped that he thought her pink cheeks were from anger, as his obviously were. “I- I don’t, I don’t, I...” She gave up and sank into the grass floor, not even caring enough to shoo away Gilbert as he sat beside her.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I know,” Anne sniffed quietly.

He looked shocked and fought back a chuckle. “You do?”

“Yea, I guess.” She buried her face further into her arms. “I just needed to blame it on someone, and the substitute is leaving soon.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Both of them had gotten used to silences. It wasn’t awkward though. It was peaceful, warm... safe. They both knew that it was okay to sit beside each other and not say anything, which was a blessing for Anne, who tended to say things she wished she hadn’t.

When her tears had dried and she could speak without a lump rising in her throat, Anne looked up from her position. “Why... Why were you looking at me?”

That was what made Gilbert’s pale skin turn a shade of red deeper than Anne’s hair. She fought the urge to laugh at the sight.

He stared down at his boots and mumbled something incoherently.

“What?”

All she got was more completely unintelligible muttering.

“Sorry.”

He looked up at her with the same stupid eyes he always used. The same stupid expression that made Anne’s stomach do somersaults. But she did not like Gilbert Blythe. At all. She hated how deep and passionate his eyes were. She despised his sharp jawline and his tender smile that for some reason, no one but her ever saw it. And she absolutely could not stand his intellect and his drive. And she was revolted by the way he made her feel. Like everything was right with the world, but also like her stomach was training to be a trapeze artist.

“No, it’s okay.” She didn’t know how long she’d been staring before he said that, and if anyone ever told her, she’d probably sit in that spot in the woods and never leave, due to sheer humiliation.

“Anne,” He breathed tentatively. “I was looking at you, because, because...”

“Because...?” Anne knew full well the answer she was hoping for, but it was purely poetic. She did not like Gilbert Blythe. Not one bit. It was for the sake of romance, not that she felt romantical about him. She just knew that it would make for good writing material. A tale of a terribly handsome but poor man admitting his feelings for the lovely Princess Cordelia and sinking into the depths of despair upon being horribly rejected. She made a note to attempt to make the character of the man absolutely hideous.

“Anne.” The way he said her name, like it truly was something special, so much better than Cordelia. He said it in a way no one ever had, as if it was the most beautiful word he’d ever hear. But she did not like Gilbert Blythe. Okay, maybe she did, but just as friends.

“Yes?” Anne was afraid to say anything else, afraid she’d say something wrong and scare him off, like she always did. A small part of her knew however, that he’d always come back.

“Anne, I was staring at you because... because...” His eyes searched her pale, freckled face. His eyes. They were so full of love that it could’ve come straight from a fairy tale.

And then it dawned on her. “Oh.” She hesitated, looking down at the ground. “Is this a prank?”

“What? Of- of course not!”

“It has to be. Why would anyone like me?!” She felt like crying, she knew Gilbert teased her, but she never thought he’d go this far. “I’m homely, and skinny and redheaded and freckled and I talk far too much and I talk to trees and, and flowers. And I’m far too outspoken, and I’m-“

“You’re beautiful.”

If she had been able to, Anne would’ve laughed.

Gilbert took a deep breath and gently turned Anne’s chin upwards, making eye contact. “And you’re smart, and creative, and yes you’re different, but that’s why I like you. That’s why I’ve liked you since the moment you smacked me with a slate.”

“That was almost 3 years ago.”

“I know.”

“But Ruby. You could have Ruby if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But she’s pretty and she can cook and she has nice clothes and she’s not... me.”

“Anne.”

“Gilbert.”

The sun was rapidly diving beneath the trees and they both knew it. Matthew and Marilla were probably preparing how to scold Anne when she finally got home, but for some reason, even that didn’t deter either of their gazes.

Anne melted into his eyes that she hated. She choked on salty tears and almost broke down when her raised his thumb to wipe them from her cheeks. Anne liked Gilbert Blythe.

“May I walk you home? Marilla’s probably worried sick.”

Anne nodded and stood up, her knees trembling slightly. She let Gilbert loop his arm through hers and almost began walking.

Why must the girl wait for the boy? If I wanted to kiss a boy, couldn’t I just... kiss him?

“Wait.”

Gilbert furrowed his ever expressive eyebrows in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Anne set herself into the ground, determined but more nervous than she’d been in her whole life.

Gilbert didn’t have time to laugh at her ridiculous expression before she’d grabbed his chin and pressed her lips against his. Strawberries.

Anne had always dreamed of kisses. She’d never had one and was sure they couldn’t live up to the books. But in that moment she realized that no book could describe this sensation. Maybe it was a universal thing. Maybe it was because it was Gilbert. But she felt so safe and warm and every worry she’d ever had melted away in an instant. She sank into the feeling, letting him pull her closer, resting one hand on his jawline and the other on the nape of his neck, his raven curls brushing against her knuckles. At first she was afraid she’d made a horrible mistake, but then he’d kissed her back and everything was more than ok.

When they finally pulled apart, neither was fully aware of how long it’d lasted. It could’ve been mere seconds, or perhaps years.

Gilbert traded his longing look for a smirk, and grabbed her slender hand, intertwining it with his own. “Good luck with Ruby.”

Anne winced, just now realizing that she’d have to deal with that. “Oh would you let me be happy for 5 seconds, please.”

“Deal.”

They made it to Green Gables far sooner than either would’ve liked and Anne almost let go of his hand to race up to the house, but he didn’t let go.

“I feel like I should explain to Matthew and Marilla.”

“And you think the first thing they want to see upon me returning home almost two hours late is you holding my hand?”

Gilbert chuckled and scratched his neck. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Well then, Bash and Mary are waiting.” She raised her eyebrows. “Gilbert.”

Before she could protest, he leaned down and gave her a quick, mischievous kiss, before waving and sauntering down the dirt road. “Gilbert!” She cried, trying to sound scandalized beneath her foolish grin.

Maybe that substitute wasn’t so bad after all.

[theangriestpea]

The Killing Type | Five

Summary: Just when Lavender thought things were going great with Sweet Pea, a new girl comes back to turn to turn their entire relationship upside down. Now they have to navigate a world of drug dealers, rival gangs, and co-parenting. Sequel to Mercy Killing. (links now at the end of chapter)

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Pairings: Sweet Pea x OC // eventual Jughead Jones x OC

Warnings: Smut, restraints, cunnilingus, minor dirty talk, drug mentions, blackmail??

Word Count: 4.8k+

A/N: This shouldn't have taken me two weeks to write but it did. Between work and a bad bought of depression I just don't have much energy to do anything that's not mindless. But regardless I'm super happy with how this chapter came out. It was brought to my attention that links sometimes cause posts to not show up in the tags! Links will be at the bottom of chapters from now on to see if that solves the issue.

Chapter Five : The L Word

Lavender was rubbing her cheeks furiously in an attempt to dry them. She could hear Sweet Pea following her, but simply pretended that he didn’t exist for the moment. She didn’t want to be near him right now, not after everything that had happened since last night.

As soon as she got inside her trailer, she planned on calling Toni and asking if she could spend the night at Thistlehouse. Maybe some girl time would help her clear her head and mend her heart. Also being sandwiched between Toni and Cheryl meant that the likelihood of her having any nightmares was slim. She didn’t want to sleep with Sweet Pea or Fangs this time around, not since they both had spurned her.

She trudged up her front steps and quickly unlocked the door. Once inside, she attempted to slam the door shut but a large hand stopped it from closing. More anger and hurt welled inside of her. Why couldn’t he just give her some fucking space ?

“Sweet Pea, just leave me alo-” She began before he abruptly cut her off.

“I love you.” He said plainly, as if it were nothing. As if it were something he had said a million times before. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, wrenching itself against her ribcage as it pounded with anxiety. Did he really just…?

She didn’t want to face him, not now. Not after what he had just said. He waited for her to verbally respond, however Lavender’s mouth and throat felt like they were so stuffed with cotton that she couldn’t say anything. Even her tongue felt like sandpaper, pressed against the hard palate of her mouth to keep herself from audibly sobbing again. Why after all this time did he say it? Why did he always pick the absolute worst moment to talk about his feelings? She wanted to scream.

If she had turned to look at him, she would have seen the scared and pained look on his face. The feeling of rejection creeping up his spine as he yearned for her to say something, anything to confirm that she felt the same way. That they meant more to one another than they had ever let on. That this went beyond acquaintanceship, beyond friendship, and beyond sex. There was more to it than that or so he thought…

“Shanna?” His voice cracked, making him flinch at how whiny it sounded. He dreaded for anyone to see or hear him like this. Already he was feeling tortured by showing so much soft emotion, even if it was to his girlfriend. If she had said something back then it wouldn’t be so bad, but her silence was more telling than not.

Lav finally turned to look up at him, her eyes watery again with more tears. She nodded her head and he finally realized she was unable to speak, whether it was due to the vitriol of emotion she was feeling or something else, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Finally after a few tense minutes, she found the ability to speak. “Do you mean that?” She probed, not quite trusting his utterance. Though Sweet Pea was honestly not one to lie about feelings, it was just so new to her to hear this from him. He had mentioned before how he had loved Lily, but he had never used such a word with her in regards to their relationship. It was a dream come true and for that she couldn’t trust the reality of it.

He stared at her, wondering if he could pull up the nerve to say it again. When he found that he couldn’t, he nodded his head numbly with his eyes never leaving hers to let her know that he was being sincere. Lav rubbed her eyes once more, smearing salty tears across her face for the dozenth time.

Should she say it back? She wondered, still finding it hard to even speak. Such a strange cacophony of emotions bundled up inside of her chest. “I…” She muttered, tripping over her own words, “I l-love…” She inhaled sharply, trying to power through it. “I love you too.”

They looked at one another wordlessly, Sweet Pea’s jaw set firmly as he clenched his teeth. All he wanted to do was sweep her up and kiss her, but he wasn’t sure if she would be up for that or not. He didn’t know how triggered she may have been by the Ghoulie from before. But Christ, he just needed to touch her.

Sweet Pea took two broad steps forward and grabbed her by the upper arm to pull her into his chest. Lavender didn’t even bother trying to resist him. She melted into his torso, taking a deep breath to inhale his intoxicating scent. Despite being upset with him, all she wanted to do now was just stay wrapped within his arms, enveloped in the illusion of safety.

She felt his nose nuzzle into the hair on the top of her head, the slow intake of air through his nostrils to take in the smell of her shampoo. He never felt more at home then he did when she was in his arms.

Lavender hadn’t realized how touch starved she was until this very moment. And she knew straight away that it would be difficult for her to let go of him any time soon. Not only that but she wanted more and while she knew he couldn’t resist her, she also wasn’t sure if she should give in to her own desires. He had been a raging asshole after all.

She heard him mumble something into her hair, but was unable to decipher it. “I can’t understand you,” She said, turning her head from out of his jacket so he could hear her.

He let out a small groan before lifting his face off of her scalp. “I said, I’m sorry for what I said at the Wyrm.” She didn’t have to see him to know that his face and neck were flushed red with embarrassment. He always seemed to have an allergic reaction to apologizing. Still, it was amazing that he even said he was sorry as usually he just acted like nothing had ever happened. Maybe he was starting to grow up, even if it was just the tiniest bit.

Her grip around his waist tightened a fraction, pressing her cheek into his sternum in an attempt to keep herself from crying again. The hurt was still so fresh in her mind that despite what she felt was a sincere apology, she still couldn’t help but think of his stinging words. Sweet Pea began to rub her back, sensing that she was on the verge of spilling more tears.

“You’re such an asshole to me.” She huffed out, managing to stop herself from crying. “I don’t understand how you can say you love me after acting like a total jerk.” She attempted to pull away, however Sweet Pea did not allow her to. His grip around her remained vice.

She felt him stiffen uncomfortably against her. “I don’t know how to do this.” He said quietly, almost so low that she didn’t even hear him. “I’ve never felt like this before, okay? I don’t know how to handle it.”

Lav looked up at him, wearing her confusion plainly on her face. “But didn’t you love Lily?” She didn’t understand how he could say he never felt this way when he had mentioned loving her before.

“That was different.” He admitted softly. “You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? I can’t ever stop thinking about you. When I was with Lily, I still thought about fucking other girls. I cared about her and I loved her as a friend, I guess but. The thought to cheat doesn’t even cross my mind with you. I get so freaked out by the way I feel around you that I just fuck it up. Because that’s what I do, Shanna, I fuck everything up. Just look at what I did to Lily.”      

Lavender clung to him, afraid that if she loosened her grip then he’d fall apart right before her eyes. It wasn’t fair that he always had to pick up her pieces when he had his own issues to take care of. Maybe that was one of the points Lily was trying to make during that first week. Lav had never really given him a chance to be vulnerable and at the moment she hated herself for that.

“It’s okay,” She muttered to him. He wouldn’t look directly at her, choosing to stare off at a wall instead. When he didn’t respond or move, she reached up and put a hand on his cheek to force him to look at her. “I mean it, Pea. It’s okay to not understand what you’re feeling. It’s new to me too. I don’t think I’ve ever cared so much about someone before. Not like this.”  

His eyes bore into hers for a tense moment as they stared in silence once again. He dared to lean down and press his lips against hers, which Lavender took in eagerly. She opened her mouth slightly, tongue prodding at his lips in desperation.

Sweet Pea opened his mouth for her, his own tongue reaching out to greet her. They collided, rolling and wrestling. Lav couldn’t help but let out a needy whine as she pressed herself flush against him, wanting more each second that passed.

He backed her up against the nearby wall, hoisting her upwards by grabbing the backs of her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist, securing herself against him as they continued their bruising kiss. His hands that were perched on her hips, pushed up her thin tank top. Their lips finally broke apart as he pulled it over her head.

Her bra was quickly discarded next as he wasted no time at all. They had both been wanting this for far too long now and it was all too easy to get caught up in the moment. Daisy wasn’t around,and if Lily dared to come by then Sweet Pea was going to give her a solid piece of his mind.

Sweet Pea was groping both her breasts, making her keen against the wall. His thumbs ran over her nipples, hardening them. Lav grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for yet another deep kiss, needing something to occupy her mouth to keep her from becoming a moaning broken record.

Lavender pushed off his leather jacket and he happily aided her in shedding it. She enthusiastically unbuttoned his flannel, making quick work of it. Why did he have to wear so many fucking layers?

Finally once his flannel was off, he tore off his undershirt. With his bare chest exposed, Lavender ran her fingernails across his pectorals. The pads of her fingers brushing past his nipples and down his semi-toned stomach. She rolled her hips against him, eager and wanting. He simply wasn’t moving fast enough for her.

Sweet Pea seemed to be ignoring her pleas for more as he continued to manipulate her nipples slowly as they kissed. Lav simply huffed, pulling her mouth away from him so he could see her pout.

“Can’t you let me enjoy getting you off first?” He asked in a threatening tone. “Or do you want my dick that badly?”

Lavender groaned, “You are the worst, stop teasing me!”

“No.” He responded, attacking her neck with his mouth as his hands jerked her skirt upwards so that it was bunched at her waist. His thick fingers caressed her clit through her cotton underwear, making her let out another needy whine.

He pinched the swelling bundle of nerves, earning himself another whimper from her mouth. Sweet Pea pulled away from the wall, causing her to grab onto his shoulders as he carried her into her bedroom.

“You’re not going to fuck me against the wall?” She asked playfully as he rubbed circles around her clit. Her words devolved into a moan towards the end.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You little slut.” He hissed back. While other people absolutely could not call her that word, Sweet Pea definitely could. It was her own way of reclaiming it by telling him to use it. It sent a passionate thrill down her spine.

He dropped her onto the bed, causing her to yelp in surprise. She looked up at him, doe-eyed as he unbuckled his belt and ripped it free from his pants. In one swoop he grabbed both of her wrists, wrapping the leather around them before tying it to the headboard. Lavender was staring at him curiously, wondering where this had come from. He had never restrained her like this before, not that she minded. If she didn’t like it then she’d let him know, though he usually had a way of telling when something made her uncomfortable even more she verbalized it.

When she gave no outward sign of discomfort, he continued by ridding her of the rest of her clothing so that she was totally naked on the bed. He settled between her legs, kissing down her chest as she inhaled sharply with anticipation.

She had noticed that he only went down on her when he felt the occasion was particularly special. If it was a regular quickie then he usually didn’t bother. The action caused a warm feeling to wrap around her as she tried to squirm away from his fanning breath.

Sweet Pea shot her a look telling her to be still as he tightened his grip around her thighs. He attacked her clit with a series of licks and suckling kisses, a finger probing at the entrance to her core. Lav jerked in his grip, whimpering and whining for more as he was doing nothing but tease her with his mouth.

He latched on firmly, sucking hard as he swirled his tongue around her in a quick rhythm that had her quaking in his grip. Two fingers plunged into her wet pussy, curling inside of her before easing out. She couldn’t stop the mewls from coming out or the quiet begs for more. He worked her over, pumping his two digits at an incredibly fast pace as he continued to service her with his tongue. In minutes Lav was pushed over the edge, crying out for him as she pulled at her restraints.

Sweet Pea pulled away from her, pressing the two fingers that had been inside of her into her mouth for her to clean them off. She sucked on them, hollowing out her cheeks as she stared into his dark eyes. Once he was satisfied with her work, he pulled them out and wiped the excess saliva onto the bed sheets.

“Have I ever told you how great your pussy tastes?” He asked in a husky tone as he readied himself between her thighs. Lav shifted her hips to give him more room, spreading her legs as far as she could to get him ample space. There was a raging blush across her cheeks as she shook her head no.

Sweet Pea smirked, tip pressing into her folds but not quite entering her. “You look so pretty with your legs spread out like that, dripping for my cock.” She swallowed thickly, while enjoying the dirty talk she was unable to respond to it. It was still a new thing for her to hear as her other partners had never done it before. Being young and not nearly as experienced did have its downsides. Although if he were honest with her, he loved how flustered it made her.

“Do you want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, still teasing her with his closeness. She moved her hips, trying to get him to enter her, however he simply pulled back a fraction just to spite her. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.” He growled.

Lavender whined at him pathetically, “Fuck me, Pea, please!” Her face grew a darker shade of red. Sweet Pea merely smirked as he slowly pushed into her, biting back a moan at how tight and slick she was.

She seemed to relax into the bed as he filled her, stretching her walls as he continued to plunge deeper inside of her. She let out a soft, breathy moan and her eyes slid shut so she could focus on the sole feeling of being completed by him.

He moved her legs so that they were flung over his shoulders haphazardly, leaning forward so that they were pressed into her chest. She pouted up at him, wanting him to move his hips to give her arousal some kind of relief. Sweet Pea was giving her a cocky look, knowing exactly what she wanted and purposefully not giving it to her.

“Pea,” She whimpered again, giving him the most desperate facial expression that she could muster. “Please? I love you-”

That seemed to be what he wanted to hear as he suddenly pulled his hips back and snapped them forward. He fell into a heavy rhythm, slamming against her as she moaned helplessly beneath him. Sweet Pea grunted as he bared his weight on his wrists, hands placed on either side of her shoulders.

He moved at a furious pace, pounding into her harder than he ever had before. Lavender couldn’t say anything coherently, simply falling apart as he reduced her into a shapeless mass of pleasure. She felt as if she was wound incredibly tight and he was yanking on the end of her string, daring her to unravel at any moment.

She let out a loud gasp as he adjusted the angle in which he drove into her, hitting deeper than before and making her toes curl with delight. Her stomach felt tense, clenching as she tried to keep herself from exploding too soon.

"Don't hold it back," he growled at her, knowing her body better than she did sometimes. "Come all over my dick, baby girl."

Lav cursed as he picked up speed again, throwing her mercilessly over the edge and into a sea of ecstasy.

Sweet Pea slacked his pace slightly, allowing his rhythm to become sloppy as he chased his own high. In minutes he was releasing inside of her, filling her to the brim with his load.

He gently lifted off of her, unfurling her legs so that she could lay normally. He crashed down beside her after undoing the belt that tied her wrists, pulling her into his chest as they both heaved for air. She nuzzled her nose against his sternum, inhaling the sensual mixture of sweat and sex as he rubbed her back soothingly.

“I love you too,” He mumbled back to her as he drifted into the twilight dimension of sleep.

There was a hard but tentative knock on the door to Sweet Pea’s trailer. Lily managed to gather herself up off the kitchen floor, having been crying there alone for the past ten minutes. Luckily Daisy had placated herself in the living room, playing with a few of the toys that Lavender had bought for her a few days prior.

Lily cleaned herself up the best she could in the time it took for her to open the door, finding the next in line for Serpent King standing there looking bashful. As if he knew something that he shouldn’t.

“Hey,” He said softly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “can we talk?”

She bit into her lower lip hard to keep from crying again. She knew exactly what this was about and she really didn’t want to face up to it yet. Ever since she came back she found herself growing closer and closer to Jughead. Her heart seemed to thump loudly in her ears anytime they came into contact with one another. Even passing him in the hallway sometimes left her breathless. She absolutely hated this feeling, as she knew exactly what it meant. It had been similar to what she felt for Sweet Pea some time ago. Only this time it seemed so much worse, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just post pregnancy hormones raging.

Lily stepped to the side so he could walk in. He brushed past her, not meaning to touch her as he did so. Their arms touched for a split second, leaving a warm and tingling feeling in the joined flesh. Jughead quickly moved away, making a straight line to the couch in order to plop down on it as if he’d had a long and hard day.

He took his beanie off momentarily, running his fingers through his thick locks before roughly pulling it back over them. His hair resettled, framing his face perfectly. Lily gulped as she looked at him in an attempt to settle the uproar of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

She closed the door, locking it out of sheer habit and muscle memory before joining him. She chose to sit in the recliner adjacent to the couch, not wanting to risk visibly showing how much she needed the company right this very moment. Her teeth were clenched, hands balled up on her knees into tiny fists. She looked as if she may snap in two at any second.

“Are you dealing?” Jughead asked finally. The tension in the air seemed to throb painfully as Lily looked away from him and towards her little girl that was jangling  a ring of plastic keys. She really didn’t want to answer him, however she knew that she had no choice but to. She had been caught red handed by Sweet Pea and Lavender the night before. While Lavender had tried to save her, clearly her ex had no intention of just letting this slide. He could be such an insufferable asshole when he wanted to be.

“Yes.” Lily admitted to him, knowing that she’d be unable to lie even if she wanted to. Nausea swept over her and she felt like she may start to puke her feelings out at any moment. She fidgeted with the fraying edges of a hole in the knee of her beat up jeans, hoping the tiny thoughtless movements would keep her sane for just a minute longer.

Jughead let out a stressed sigh, “you know I have to tell my dad, right?” He asked and she nodded numbly. “He wants me to take over when I turn eighteen, says he’s too old to keep doing this shit. So he’s making me handle the younger Serpents for now to learn how to deal with issues like this.

He paused, wanting to ask her for her advice on the situation before realizing that it would be really dumb to do so. Lily was the one to show him around Southside High when he first got there. She taught him all the Serpent Laws and helped him through the trials. He’d be lost right now without her, and yet here he was having to find some kind of fitting punishment for her.

“Is it the money?” He asked quietly, not wanting to offend her. Babies were expensive, he knew that. Maybe he hadn’t been giving her enough jobs to work lately, and the thought of her struggling made him feel incredibly guilty. “Because I can get you more money, Lils-”

“No, Jug.” She replied in a voice that was equally as soft as his. “I’m not getting paid to do it, at least not cash.”

A perplexed look crossed his face, “then why?” He probed, needing to know why she was doing something so risky. If she were caught, then Daisy would likely be taken from her and no one in the gang wanted that.

Lily tensed even more so than she already was. “Please, Jug, just drop it.” She said, her tone becoming more urgent. “I really can’t tell you why. I’m not doing this by choice, alright? I can’t give you any details.”

His eyes darkened. “Is someone blackmailing you?” If someone was threatening to harm her in any way then he needed to know. Not only for her safety, but for Daisy and Sweet Pea’s as well. Although he would totally deny the sheer amount of worry of her being in any kind of danger gave him.

Her mouth turned into a desert. She wasn’t sure if blackmail was truly the right word for what was going on. It wasn’t that the person she was dealing for was threatening to release any information on her, no it wasn’t quite like that. They would just stop helping her with her father’s appeal to turn over the conviction that landed him in jail. She couldn’t afford a defense attorney on her own. The person footing the bill was the one making her do such a risky thing as sell drugs on Ghoulie territory.

All she could do was shake her head at him, “That’s not-” She started before halting. The less he knew the better, or perhaps the less of the truth he knew the better. “Yes, Jug. Someone is blackmailing me and I have to do this, please.” She begged, allowing her eyes to go wide and desperate. “Please, I have to.”

“Law says I have to take your jacket, Lils...I can’t do that.” He admitted to her, unable to tear his blues away from her watery greens. “Do you know who is doing it? Or are they staying anonymous somehow?”

Did she lie again? Could she lie again? Would she just be digging herself into a deeper hole that may just collapse upon her one day and become her grave? “Jughead, I really can’t discuss this with you. Just know that it is not my choice but I have to do this. If I don’t then...then my dad may never get out.” The last part came out in a broken whisper as she choked back a cry for help.

Jughead’s gaze softened, hating seeing her so upset and wanting nothing more than to comfort her. However, he still had a job to do regardless of his feelings. “So they’re helping you get him out? I can help somehow, I’ll find a way, I promise I-”

“Jughead,” She said, shaking her head at him and letting out a small, tired laugh. “You don’t have the resources that this person does. They have money for a good lawyer, the Serpents don’t have that. If you have to take my jacket, then…” She hesitated, not liking what she was about to say, “then do it. My father never wanted this life for me anyway.”

The absolute last thing Jughead wanted to do on this Earth was to take her second skin from her. The thought alone seemed blasphemous. “If I do that, then you won’t be able to make money for Daisy. For now, we’ll keep this on the down low. The longer it takes for my dad to know, the longer I can stall. I don’t want to take away your livelihood, especially when you’re being forced into breaking the code.”

Lily heaved a heavy sigh, “When FP finds out, he’s going to murder you.”

A smile broke across his sullen face, “then who’d take over? Sweet Pea? Can you imagine?”

They both devolved into laughter, the air around them lightening. After a few moments, they stopped and fell into silence once more. At least this time it was less intense. “Promise me something, Lily.” Jughead said finally after he noticed her shoulders drop.

She looked up at him, eyes connecting once more. “What is it?” She asked, wondering what else he could possibly need from her. The seriousness on his face was causing her anxiety to ramp up again, the dial turning up all the way to eleven.

“If you’re ever in any danger, you’ll come to me and tell me?” He said gently, not wanting to further unnerve her. “I will do whatever in my power to help you. I won’t let anything happen to you. So please, it doesn’t matter what time of day it is or where I’m at, just tell me if you need my help. I’ll come running. Can you promise me that?”

A half dozen stray tears suddenly fell from her eyes, unable to hold them back at the sweet sentiment of him wanting to protect her. Even if it was just because he was her leader, even if it was just because they were such good friends, even if the reason wasn’t because he was infatuated with her as she so damn wished he was.

She wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands, smearing the clear liquid across her soft skin. “I promise, Jug.” She mumbled, seemingly in pieces but somehow held together at the same time. “I promise.”

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[douxie-casperan]

It’s finally here, part 2 of this ask for @flamekeeperbellroc The prompt below was specifically requested to be the Heart of Glass AU and it’s not angsty either it’s a miracle!

✂ - A vivid memory

All journeys start with a single step as the saying goes and there may well be some truth to the idea. It had been one that led to the loss of his hand, one where he fell through the portal to escape, many that had led the two of them to Nari and a handful more from there to the safety of a fortress that had become their home for months on end or possibly longer… It is rather difficult to parse the passage of time when nothing changes other than what can be marked with distinctive milestones: The before, the welcome, the beginning, his voice, the replacement. However long it had been however he felt the closest possible to being the before than he ever had despite all the damage and cracks in his head that had been left in it’s wake, something he’d never dared dream was even possible.

The Order’s willingness to allow him to take everything at his own pace was perhaps the greatest of all gifts he’d been given because it seemed that no matter how many times he stumbled or fell there was still that chance there to claw his way back, always managing to reach a little bit further with the unwavering support from more than just his familiar. There were still bad episodes or worse and his ability to sleep soundly remained hellishly erratic but even getting to this point without it would have been simply impossible so he tried to ensure that they knew how thankful and refused to let himself be a burden even during the worst moments particularly when he wasn’t the only one who was suffering. In a secret held only between the two of them he might have even dared starting to think of it like being in a family again but he’s not ready to voice such things aloud, not yet anyway.

What he was planning to do next was simply another step towards finding something to help him once more to being functional yet even the very concept of doing it felt utterly terrifying. Asking was even worse and was much dallied over, preparing for an utter nightmare and now there was only one thing left: leaving.

Something that had come as a surprise to him was it had turned out that it was rather unusual all three of them to be here at once, Nari particularly had a tendency to wander then reappear with gifts she had brought or tales of things she had seen. There was only one present when the time came as it happened, something he was well aware of, though when Bellroc suddenly appears at his side it still manages to startle him so badly that a small dragon around his neck has to gently comfort to help his heart get back into some sort of order from it’s attempt to leap out his throat. They say nothing though do look somewhat apologetic, being around them so often has made it much easier to read their moods if still needing to glance down first sometimes. They wait patiently and only when Archie is given an appreciative scritch do they speak up.

“Do you have all that you require, Hisirdoux?” They ask softly somewhat ruined by the noise of clacking adjusting to watch.

“With your insistence on walking it would be easy enough to underestimate things for anyone.”

“We will manage I am sure, will be like being a kid again just less of the whole running for our lives thing.” He is given a non-committal hmm for that so he quickly continues before it can be taken the wrong way.

“Be nice though even if do have a specific goal in mind, we used to roam wherever we liked with the freedom to simply do as wanted… Maybe that is looking back on things too simply but we both miss it, used to talk a lot about what was beyond the walls late at night and there is a bit of a novelty in finally finding out I admit.”

"Very well. Then if you are to go ahead with your plans I want you to know that this place was never meant to be seen as your prison. Apart from that being a solely human concept you have always been free to leave whenever you wished, after all what would we gain from keeping you here as long as you drew breath? It's a sanctuary from the world outside and always will be forever long you want. I believe you would call it a home."

He doesn’t react at first while carefully deciphering the words then, whether they like it or not, a tight hug is launched Bellroc’s direction forcing Archie to scarper for the hood of his current wear unless he wants to drown in their long feathers declining being part of the action himself. For their part they stand there for a moment, no more idea how to react than the first time this had started happening before tentatively putting their arms around the boy content to allow him decide when the embrace would be over not wanting him to feel they wanted to push him away. As if sensing potential for discomfort they are let go with their personal space returned when Douxie needs a hand free to wipe his eyes clean. Emotions are remaining hard, particularly the happier ones and he is given a gentle nuzzle by the dragon reclaiming his spot.

“Thank you, for everything I mean. You might be able to have peace for a little while…” He doesn’t say anything specifically but images from more humble breakages to alchemical experiments gone horribly wrong spring to mind far louder than the worst things it could have. Perhaps it could be taken as a good sign of starting to heal were anyone to know.

“Quiet is not always a good thing, it will make it all the more obvious you will not be here for a time. Do keep in contact, please? The birds will always find us if it is you who sent for them and while it will not be you personally it will be appreciated knowing how you are getting on.”

“I will remind him if need be.” Douxie shoots him a glare to get only an innocent look in return.

“If one does not go out sooner it will be when we get there minimum. I really do not know how long it will take but I guess that is part of the fun getting to try and clear my head out a bit in the process. I just need to know I can do it, you know?”

“Of course. May your travels be safe, Hisirdoux and Archie, and if you ever run into trouble know there is no place we cannot reach.”

His smile could not have been any wider when he left that day, a knowing reassurance bolstering each and every step.

~

The passage of time it turns out is a lot easier to tell where seasons are marked by the change of colour, the work in the fields or festivities coming and going like the tides supposedly did as the pair passed through village and town. The leaves had started to turn when they left originally and now they dazzled in the richest of golds that only just starting to drop one by one threatening the coming of winter and harder going if they did not make it soon. Thus they would press on anyway with knowing, guided by a simple directional spell and stopping nowhere for any more than a day or two to gather more supplies thanking people for their kindness. One bird was summoned on route carefully done under the cover of darkness lest somebody got the wrong idea, things had soured only further against magic since their disappearance from the world and neither wanted to put themselves into a potential firing line.

Eventually places started to become vaguely familiar cropped up in the form of names though with these also came strange rumours that would make the pair look at one another for a moment as though there was something right in front of them that they simply didn’t have the context to quite match. It didn’t help where they were heading was never mentioned once like it had become somewhere cursed along with the talk of some form of exodus that had happened that still sat on every tongue of the gossipers. From there at least the final stretch led them through a wide valley that bordered on woodland and it felt almost unnaturally clear in how spacious it was in the dip and overrun with both grasses and wildflower seeking to reclaim the space for themselves. It felt almost haunting to even exist there, enough that he pulls his hood down to hide his face pressing on with a quicker step and keeping a wary eye until their feet finally found safety on old roads overrun with weed. It was as though nobody bothered to trek along them anymore even in passing which was strange but as they went the direction they needed they simply shrugged and followed them to wherever they might lead.

There was a saying that all roads lead to Rome, in this particular case the same saying should have been to Camelot except standing here now aside from fading traces of the old stone bridge that stretched across the embarkment there was a gaping hole in the ground and with it any chance of closure it might have wrought had been firmly denied.

His heart drops.

With a quick nod Archie takes to the air while his companion wanders as closely as he dares to the edge not trusting it entirely. It is poked with a foot to make sure it is not some form of elaborate illusion given who one of the former residents was only to receive confirmation from both that and the dragon’s shouting that there was nothing there despite a place large as Camelot was simply could not disappear, it was simply impossible. His magic begins to crackle with his anger showing his mood even before his outburst does.

“I mean how do you lose an entire kingdom?!”

With a mutter Douxie reaches into the small pack to retrieve a small orb and smashes it firmly between his palms then allows the breeze take the remnants away to wherever they please. With here now being distinctly absent hopefully there will be another on the network still able to pick up the signal, he had promised to send one after getting here but well who knows what exactly they would make of this particular development?  Because despite standing right in front of it not a single thing that made any sense was springing to mind and he was completely at a loss of what to do next.

[caldonahue]

    —introducing callaghan “cal” donahue as macbeth

trigger warning: murder, death, drug use and overdose, abuse, disassociation

hi friends! i’m farah, i’m twenty-two, i go by she/her pronouns, i live in the pst timezone, and i’m literally so? stoked? to be here. i don’t think i’ve ever written a character quite this dark before so this shall be interesting... beware, cal is literal trash. anyway, i just finished writing a paper right before i was supposed to turn it in at midnight *wipes the imaginary sweat off my forehead* so my brain’s a little fried. but i promise i will try to be all caught up and in full-force tomorrow. that being said, please come plot with me. you can message me on here or on my discord ( farah#1263 ). can’t wait to stir up tons of trouble with you all.

skeleton: macbeth

name: callaghan “cal” donahue

age: twenty-two

birthdate: may 25, 1997

birthplace: manhattan, new york

faceclaim: jacob elordi

gender: cis-male

pronouns: he/him

degree: business

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cal grew up in primarily in new york in one of the richest families in america. from the outside, his family had the appearance of perfection, but underneath that facade lay years of shocking and hidden family secrets that one way or another got out into society, even if his family tried to put them down as merely rumors.

cal’s father is a highly respected but also deeply feared business man/media magnate known for his cutthroat attitude in his business dealings and personal relationships. he had an extremely difficult childhood, having been orphaned at a young age and passed from relative to relative around europe, many of whom were not very kind to him. still, he was incredibly intelligent and wanted to make something of himself, having this belief in the american dream and wanting to move there if he ever got the chance. when he got offered a full-ride to ashcroft, he ran with it. it wasn’t america, but he figured the opportunities could lead to that. (this makes cal a legacy, which is one of the reasons he was asked to join the imperium society along with his father’s global reputation). and they did. after college, he was able to use his connections and move to new york, where he founded his own start-up that eventually led to him building his own personal fortune.

cal’s mother was very much a hustler. she grew up poor in new york and at an early age, learned how to use her good looks to manipulate men for the finer things in life. she had a short stint as a model before she met cal’s father, charming him enough to call it quits with his first wife who had just given birth to his first son. underneath her obvious beauty, however, was a fiery temper and substance abuse problem. the thing about her was that she really wasn’t made to be a wife and mother. cal’s father thought he could turn her into this perfect socialite/housewife (marrying her and then proceeding to have cal and his younger sister in a very short span of time), but the task proved impossible. she was always only looking out for herself and didn’t enjoy being tied down, certainly not with kids to take care of despite the nannies his father provided. they fought constantly, and their home life was extremely unstable. it was a normal occurrence for cal to see his mother being dragged off to an institution by his father’s security guards or for his mother to use him and his sister as bait to get his father to give her money for drugs, to leave him, or sometimes just to try and get back with him.

eventually, she finally did leave, having told cal and his sister the three of them were moving to los angeles, but leaving without them and dying of a drug overdose shortly after. cal was about eight at the time and thinks he has successfully hidden this entire episode from his memory, but it’s definitely something that affects him whether he likes it or not.

while his father cares deeply for his children and has provided them a life of ease and luxury, he’s certainly not innocent in all of this mess. he’s extremely manipulative and often psychologically traumatizing to them as well. he often finds his children to be lazy and ungrateful and resents the way they’ve been raised (even though it was his own doing), while he suffered from poverty and abuse in his own childhood. he often pits the three of them against each other, always trying to see who’s the stronger, smartest, who will do whatever it takes to be the best, especially because there’s always talk about who’s going to be the one to be the one who’s going to take over when he retires. it is usually said to be cal, because it’s no secret that he’s his father’s favorite. his older brother’s too sensitive in his father’s eyes and his sister doesn’t want anything to do with the family business, although she could be a rival in her own right.

the thing about cal is that he’s a bit of a perfectionist. he was someone who was born well-connected and with many talents, but because of his father’s constant watching and pressure, he’s always afraid that all of that isn’t enough. and a lot of times, it isn’t with his father because he’s almost impossible to please. and to him, pleasing his father is everything. the man is basically a god to him. cal is the type of person who looks like everything is so easy for them. he always got top grades, was stellar in sports, and was wildly charming and popular. but these were all things he worked hard at to perfect. it took a lot of work to become the cal donahue he is today, which is why his literal fall from grace is so upsetting.

the two things cal fears the most is being a failure and going insane. his father has a habit of using his mother’s temper, drug addiction, and mental illness again him, kind of saying things like i had you don’t end up her, son (even though his father has plenty of issues himself he could pass down to him). and he is like his mother in a lot of ways. he definitely has an anger problem and has had one since he was incredibly young, but it’s always something he’s tried to cover up his entire life. the thing is, though, it’s easy to make him snap. especially when things don’t go his way or he doesn’t get what he wants. those are the two instances that really set him off. he has the need to succeed, and he doesn’t want anything short of perfect. how far his anger can go honestly really scares him (and what happened with octavia was just an example of that). for a guy who looks and acts like he has everything, he is extremely insecure and has major abandonment issues deep down, resulting from all of the trauma he’s been put through between his parents.

he loves control and loves to be made to think he’s in control. in reality, because of his father, he’s no stranger to manipulation. so it makes sense on how it easy it was for lady macbeth to get him to do what he did, even though he went much farther than what she had originally asked him to do. really, all she had to do what boost his ego and ultimately, he probably got off on thinking he’s this tough guy who’s going to protect her, because at the end of the day he’s never felt in control of his life because his dad’s always been calling the shots and making him how he wanted him to be (and what he wants him to be is kind of ambiguous... like he doesn’t really want him to be a good person, so what is it then? someone who will do anything it takes to be successful and win?)

so diving into the murder... i mean, cal is not a sociopath... i think he was raised by someone who had sociopathic tendencies and these may have rubbed off on him a bit. is he a good person? obviously not with what he’s done, but even before that i feel like that area was kind of grey. there was this cutthroat, narcissistic edge about him and while he displayed this charming mask to his peers, he may have been closer to snapping than even he himself realized. he definitely wasn’t raised to have an outstanding moral compass; he was raised to be the best, and looking at his household, chaos is kind of what he knows and thrives on even though he wouldn’t admit that. he’s the type of guy that people like to a certain extent or have to give praise to but if you’re looking closely, there’s just something off like he’s almost too successful? or maybe he never seems genuine? he definitely strives to display this image of perfection, but sometimes so much so that it’s almost unnerving? he will take the necessary measures to get what he wants and ultimately, he’s gone too far. he does feel guilty, but it’s also triggered this weird grey area on him because he’s literally got away with murder.

his mental state is just really fractured and i feel like it’s getting harder for him to decipher what is reality and what’s not if that makes sense? like he’ll go through periods of extreme guilt, especially being plagued by horrible nightmares and being haunted by octavia’s ghost. but he also has this sense of feeling a bit untouchable? maybe awakening a god complex in him? i feel like that idea was sort of already there before, but it’s just magnified now and at points he’s just on the verge of a mental breakdown, not sure what to do? confess, try to carry on with his life, experiment with the idea of being able to get away with anything?

he’s deeply terrified of people finding out, but he’s also down deep a very wounded person and feels like maybe that’s what he deserves (his father always made it out like he didn’t deserve his charmed life, he never felt worthy of his mother’s love, now he’s a murderer...)

[techmomma]

Barto wasn’t an unkind man; only a cautious one. Sufficient teasing by Marden had been plenty to make Barto feel guilty for mistrusting the old man, and really, Marden was right: however unnerving it was to have the old sheikah pop up out of nowhere, that seemed to be all of his preternatural abilities. The rest of the old man’s abilities seemed to be sitting, making his joints pop without trying, enjoying the sunlight, and making their children and other travelers smile; anyone who spoke with him for a time seemed to leave a little lighter. Considering how rude, abrasive, or entitled customers could be to them, this man was breath of fresh air, Barto thought.

The old man, Barto found, had a particular way of speaking. Rhythmic, rough and worn like the side of a mountain but softened like a stone in the sea and usually accompanied by that particular lilt that came from speaking in a smile. And smile he did, whether he had a wispy, sad gaze to the far horizon or a bright gleam as Gaila and Matu offered him a lizard they’d just found under the tree, and with as much enthusiasm, let it crawl around his hands to their delight. Barto only really saw the smile fade—but not entirely disappear—when the little old man sat with a traveler, nodding and listening and though Barto never knew quite what about, he knew enough about the regulars to have a good idea.

Then again, he could have just been giving them more worldly advice, Barto thought. Catching fish. Tying knots. Sheikah things. He could already hear Marden scolding him.

The old man’s latest conversation companion stood and left as daylight waned, giving him a warm farewell before heading inside to the lodging area. Her name was Fyjo, Barto knew, a young traveler set on proving she was a somebody from a nobody village—whatever that might mean to her. She’d never been aloof, per se, but rarely gave words freely to those too much older than her. Somehow, though, the old man had gotten an hour or so of willing conversation from her.

“Got a teenager to talk. I’m impressed,” Barto noted with some dry amusement as he approached the cooking pot where the old man had taken sentry. If Barto knew his schedule, and he did, no one else was due to come in for the night. Save for the old man’s friend, but they had a more erratic schedule and if the old man knew when they were returning, he never said. They’d paid for plenty of nights though and Marden wasn’t worried, so Barto wasn’t worried. As un-worried as Barto could be.

The old man looked up, silent for a moment but with a laughing twinkle in his eyes as he smiled. “Just hafta let them choose the topic. Most times they’ll go on fer days if ya let’em.” Barto took a seat nearby on one of the vaguely-hewn logs they used as chairs around the stable.

“That’ll come in handy when my two are teenagers.”

“Take it, you’ll need all the help you c’n git.” This time the old man did laugh, a soft, wheezy sound.

“No kiddin’.” So that was how the old man did it. Barto already felt his defenses lowered. “You got teenagers in your family?”

“Ah… no.” The old man smiled but Barto knew immediately he’d hit a spot that shouldn’t have been touched. He couldn’t have known better, but felt guilty all the same. The old man carried on. “Might be over a hunnerd ‘n twenty but I do still vaguely recall bein’ a teenager ‘n wishin’ people might take me seriously.”

“Still feel that way sometimes,” Barto offered, and this seemed to please the old man, making him smile.

“No kiddin’.” He winked coyly. Barto grinned a suspicious half-grin; oh, the old man was good.

Barto then, took pause, as the previous sentence only then registered, the impact dawning on him.

“… You’re a hundred and twenty?” He asked, and this only made the old sheikah smile brighter.

“Don’t look a day over ninety, do I?”

“How—“

“We may not be zora, but sheikah tend ta average ‘bout a century. Even I’m purty old fer a sheikah, though, young as I look.”

This man wasn’t just old; he was a piece of history, himself. He’d lived through the end of the world—a world, not Barto’s world, not Marden’s world. Not the world of anyone Barto knew, himself. He’d lived through the end of the old world, when they made towering structures and the kingdom was alive and real, not myth and folktale. This man was one of the last pieces of evidence that the old world had existed and thrived with people and names—and wasn’t just a story in a children’s book. He was a little bit of the past, peeking into the present.

Barto didn’t have the eloquence to express these ideas that twinkled and went out like stars in his subconscious, clouds of ambiguous thought that were more shapes than words.

The Calamity had never been an interest, per se, for Barto. Or Marden, or most who lived in the wilds. It was a footnote in history, like a catastrophic flood that left scars on the countryside but could not be felt by the living more than a vague melancholy. That was the only reference anyone in the wilds could really compare it to; none had the ability to gauge the true and terrible scope of the end of the world. Even the eldest who’d lived through that dire time just after, the Age of Burning Fields, could rarely articulate the devastation in a way that their descendants could tangibly grasp.

But in that moment, all of Barto wanted nothing more than to ask what the Calamity had been like, and ached because he knew he could not ask. Maybe he could ask around the subject though. Before and after! Or at least see how the old man reacted. Curiosity compelled Barto, but he was, ultimately, a man who did want to do good, and did not like hurting others.

He realized, suddenly (and terribly chastised himself for not seeing this sooner), that the old man was missing an ear. Had he gotten that, too, in the Calamity? It seemed only natural.

“You uh… you wouldn’t have been much older than her, just before the. Y’know.” Barto nodded his head to where Fyjo had gone off to. He couldn’t see Marden watching the two fondly, smiling to himself before attending another guest.

“Mm-hm. Was a royal researcher, if that’s what yer itchin’ ta ask.”

A royal researcher. A sheikah researcher? “You worked with the royal family?”

“Which one?”

Barto leaned away. “I. Which one?”

“Which one, Hyrulean ‘r Zora?”

“Nooooo, you worked with both?”

“And Gerudo. ‘N the Rito ‘n Gorons, but they don’t got a royal family, per se. The royal researchers worked with just ‘bout every part o’ Hyrule ‘n every race.”

“Do you miss it?”

The question had come before Barto could really examine its angles, decipher if it was appropriately curious without overstepping boundaries or encroaching on unwanted emotions, but the loss of the gleam in the old man’s eyes told him how much he’d overstepped.

“… I do.” The old man answered with a soft vulnerability that made Barto immediately regret the question.

“I—don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have asked that—“ The old man held up his hand, shaking his head fondly.

“The Calamity wove itself into every family that survived it. I’d wanna know what tore through my family history, too.”

Barto’s family had been through something when Calamity struck. He didn’t care much; he’d left them behind a long time ago. But Marden’s family, he did care. They were his family, and the Calamity bled through every generation into even the children who would be tucked into bed later that night.

The old man waited patiently for an answer, and Barto supplied it by propping his hands on his knees to push himself up onto his feet. “Y’know what, we don’t normally cook for travelers, but I think we have some ingredients to spare.” He stood akimbo, asking cautiously.

“… What did you research?”

“Guardians.” The old man answered, watching the color drain from Barto’s face.

 In the time it had taken Barto to light the fire, bring water to a boil and add rations of a hardened meat broth to flavor the soup, he’d watched the old man’s head start to nod, lifting with every intent to stay up as he wavered between sleep and waking. Eventually, sleep won over and the old man dozed off. Drooling.

“Missed your chores today.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Marden had taken a break from his post at the reception counter, as he did every night for dinner when travelers had either made their way to the stable or pitched their tents on the road as the sun set and smoldering twilight fell over the hills.

“Look at that, Barto made a friend.”

“He’s not—he looked lonely.”

“The one who’s been making conversation with all the guests? Sure.” All the same, he produced a blanket he’d brought over, draping it over the old man’s shoulders. He had no idea it was unnecessary, as sheikah clothing kept the wearer warm no matter the chill and cool no matter the heat, but it was the gesture that counted.

“Marden. He’s a hundred and twenty.”

“What.”

“’Swhat he said.”  

Marden looked over at the man, bobbing his head in an agreeing shrug and a mumbled yeah okay that checks out.

“He researched Guardians.”

“Oh now you’re pullin’ my leg.”

“I’m serious, that’s what he said.”

The stablekeeper threw a glance to the sleeping man and then to Barto, taking a seat next to him. “… Well shit.”

“I’ll say.”

Guardians, rarely encountered by the more sane individuals who kept to the pockets of safety left in Hyrule, were the nightmares of any Hyrulean child and many Hyrulean adults. Their blue, ghoulish eyes haunted the dreams of most born after the Calamity and Marden wondered, glancing again to the old man, if they haunted the dreams of those born before, too. They were called machines but they may as well have been monsters, the worst of Ganon’s lot with Lynels and Hinox. But perhaps most maddening was the fact that Ganon had not made them, but people.

Sheikah.

Not this man in particular, Barto and Marden knew. The stories differed slightly but the core remained the same: Guardians were sheikah technology, corrupted, and they had been used to blight the land then and terrorize the land now.

What part did this sleeping old man play in the end of the world?

“Can I join?”

Marden and Barto found Fyjo just outside the ring of light around the cooking pot. Without her backpack and rusty sword at her hip, she looked much younger—her actual age, Marden corrected himself. Somewhere around 18, if he remembered right. He nodded her over and she sat on the dirt.

“Thought you didn’t serve food,” she noted with more than a hint of satisfaction, recalling the times she’d asked.

“Thought you didn’t talk much,” Barto quipped and Marden nearly nudged him off of his seat, Fyjo glaring in response.

“I talk to cool people.”

“He’s cool and I’m not? After all the times I let you pet the horses?” Barto complained. Fyjo folded her arms over her knees.

“He told me how to stun a guardian, that makes him like a solid eight times cooler. Maybe nine.”

Barto and Marden exchanged glances with a mutual understanding that, okay, maybe there was substance to the old man’s claims (and also they were definitely cooler, yes, totally). Not that they disbelieved him, but they were inclined to take everyone’s claims with a grain of salt. Exaggerated tales were, after all, every bit of a trade-good as rice and barley and eggs and weapons at stables.

As if the man himself were about to refute them, the old man breathed in sharply, lifting his head and blinking languidly behind his now-askew glasses, wiping his chin with the butt of his palm. He looked around, visibly putting pieces together in his head, one eye squinted.

“Food’s almost ready.” Marden spoke helpfully, in a tone a little too sweet even if he was trying his best to reign it in. The old man nodded absently, licking his lips as he squinted through a sleepy haze, trying to remember the faces around him. Yes, there they were. The stablekeepers, and… and… the young lady! Yes. He was pleased to remember them. He didn’t quite remember what was going on just before nodding off, but he was sitting among nice people he’d spoken with before. That seemed enough for him.

“Thought you were goin’ ta sleep.” The old man smiled to Fyjo, who attempted nonchalance with a shrug and a glance away.

“Smelled food, was hungry.”

He nodded, the particular smirk on his face clearly betraying his disbelief in her defense. But the old man didn’t press the issue, instead looking around at the others gathered around the cooking pot. Something about the sight felt warm in the old man’s heart and a fond and distant look crossed his face.

“She says you told her how to stun a guardian, old man.” Barto spoke aloud, more question than statement.

“He did!” Fyjo protested.

“I did.” The old man answered.

“Seems awful dangerous information.” Barto noted, the old man watching him with a patient but knowing look in his eyes.

“Seems more dangerous ta go without.”

Barto acceded to this, nodding his head. “You learn that being a royal researcher?”

“You were a royal researcher?” Fyjo lit up again, recalling the ruins she’d gone exploring at the Serenne Stable’s prompting, just northwest of the castle where the lingering spirit of evil turned the earth grey and dead and lifeless.

“I was. And no. Didn’t learn that bein’ a researcher.” The old man turned his eyes to Barto--eyes on an endlessly tired face but flickering with intelligence and wryness. “Learned that from experience.”

The three watched him expectantly and the old man knew every thought by the looks on their faces. But before he could address that subject, he looked away from them to the timid man who’d been peeking from around the entrance to the stable. “C’mon, there’s plenty room,” the old man offered and after a flash of embarrassment at being caught, the man approached, sitting on the ground between the stablekeepers and Fyjo.

Karn, Marden knew. A scavenger but a good fellow; quiet, self-effacing, usually tried to pay too much even though Marden knew he didn’t have much on him at any given time. Flinchy. But Marden had also seen the man make careful, stuttering conversation with the old sheikah earlier. Everyone seemed to have a little piece of him but no one really had the whole picture, Marden thought.

“When… you hunted… guardians…?” Karn asked, so quietly that Marden worried the old man wouldn’t be able to pick up his voice.

“Just afore then.” Nope, heard him just fine.

Fyjo turned slowly to the old-timer sitting next to her. “You hunted them.”

“I did. Used ta be one right over the hills there, a wanderer.” The old man pointed his thin hand to the hill just down the road. Fyjo had been there, knew there were long-smoldered ruins of a tiny settlement there that had been destroyed decades ago. Barto and Marden were none the wiser, despite their years in the area. “Most guardians are coded with set perimeters ta patrol but some had their perimeters corrupted, when they were infected with Malice, sos they go wanderin’ without any set routes. There was a lady named Hehla who was tryin’ ta make a stable here, sos I cleared that one out fer her.”

“Gramma?” Marden leaned in, the old man smiling.

“Was wonderin’ how you were related. You got her nose.” He winked, tapping his own. Marden touched his nose unconsciously.

“How, swords don’t work on them. Guardians.” Fyjo asked, and the old man didn’t answer.

He leaned toward Fyjo, offering his walking stick. She took it, holding it in both hands and immediately noting that she could have not only held it in one hand, but it would have remained balanced no matter where she held it. She was moderately certain she could have placed it on either end and it would have remained standing. She looked up, waiting for a prompt, and he gave her a motion to follow. She gave the middle part a sharp flick and felt a sudden heat from one end of the walking stick, realizing only as she dropped it,

“It’s a spear!”

Marden, Barto, and Karn nearly fell out of their places learning forward to get a look at the pale blue spearhead, condensed blue fire with a sharp blade, a light and a solid object all at once that left a trailing blue vapor from the edge. It felt ethereal and Fyjo was half-tempted to touch the blade in some primal instinct were it not from the heat she felt radiating like another campfire just next to hear. She lifted it, noting the still-glowing embers in the dirt it had left behind, cooling into a transparent, glassy material.

Barto looked again to the little old man, sitting there with his hands in his lap and a blanket over his shoulders, who’d recently woken up from a nap sitting up. The old man who shuffled around and needed extra pillows and sometimes had to be helped up because he’d gotten stuck sitting, the old man with a trembling voice and hands and gait. He tried to imagine a younger version of him, hunting, killing the things of his nightmares and just couldn’t do it.

“This was found at one o’ the dig sites. I kept it, studyin’ it, fer years after the Calamity. On my way up ta Akkala, some guardians ambushed me. I stuck this inta a guardian’s eye in a panic, ‘n I wish I could say it was ‘cause I remembered somethin’ from an incident the Hero. But it was just lucky desperation… It found the eye, ‘n stunned the Guardian long enough that I could do it again. ‘N that seemed enough ta kill it.”

Something courageous swelled in Fyjo then. Some streak of defiance and empowerment as she realized she had, in her hands, something that could kill the monster of her childhood and the monsters that plagued the roads now and made inhospitable, impassable patches that no traveler dared venture.

“You just used a spear?”

“Hylia, no, no.” The old man laughed. “That just gave me the idea fer how ta do it.” He offered his hands and for a single, irrational moment, Fyjo considered taking the spear. Making the old man upset bothered her more than the idea of stealing the thing, though, and she returned it gently. “The Guardians run on blue flame, this substance here.” He pointed to the blade, flicking the spear with his wrist to make the blade disappear as if it had never been there. “’N blue flame is precisely what hurts’em most. So I made it inta arrows.”

He winked to Fyjo, leaning on his spear again, once more a weird but convincingly mundane walking stick. “That’s what I used ta hunt’em with.”  

When silence fell over the four, Marden knew they were in a similar state of both awe and excitement, or perhaps letting this new facet of their new friend sink in. Fyjo, the youngest and least socially graceful of them, spoke up though to cut through the moment.

“Why’d you stop?”

The old man laughed. “I ain’t exactly the picture o’ finesse ‘n fitness I used ta be—‘n that’s bein’ mighty kind ta myself. I just got old, darlin’.” The answer seemed acceptable if mildly disappointing for Fyjo.

Barto, at that moment, deemed the soup done. Why now was anyone’s guess but perhaps he’d noticed the lull, perhaps he’d noticed something no one else had. In careful portions in crude-but-sturdy wooden bowls, he ladled out enough for each, glad to test the meat and vegetable pieces to find they broke easily. He didn’t want to assume about the old man but had a pretty solid idea these would be just right for him.

They ate in silence. A comfortable, if expectant silence, a silence in appreciation for good food but with an eagerness to pick up where they’d left. Pry a little more into an old man’s life, Marden corrected himself, but if the others shared the sentiment, he couldn’t tell. Fyjo, certainly, Hylia bless her, seemed more than eager to pry.

“What was it like before the Calamity?” There it was. The question they’d all desperately wanted to ask but only Fyjo had the bravery—or bluntness—to ask. Marden felt a flush of secondhand embarrassment and yet couldn’t bring himself to say anything against the question. Barto and Karn too looked morbidly curious with judging glances to Fyjo but inquisitive looks to the old man. Perhaps silently hoping he’d answer, but knowing they couldn’t push him on if he couldn’t.

Thankfully, the old man seemed willing to oblige.

[duskroots]

Lessons

I tried the writing thing again! Caradoc gets himself a student and thinks about the past and the future.

(Keir belongs to a dear friend of mine who doesn’t have a tumblr, so I can only tag her in my heart. Also I’m so sorry baby boy. qq)

The afternoon was slowly turning into evening in Caledon Forest and it was quiet in Caradoc's chambers, except for the muffled sobs of a slim figure cowering on the ground in the middle of the room.

Caradoc hadn't said a word since they brought his new guest in. He just stood over the frail-looking sylvari and took a long look at him, halfway lost in thoughts.

There was no mistake that the one in front of him was still a sapling, but he had already known as much. He had heard the talk that some of the other courtiers had captured a few dreamers earlier this day, the youngest among them apparently not even quite a month old yet. 

Even if he hadn't intended to take on a student anytime soon this news had piqued his interest, and Caradoc had made sure to stake his claim for the newcomer right away.

Now that the sapling was here in front of him, he certainly was a pitiful sight.

His fair, soft-looking bark was bruised and dirty, the delicate, pale pink foliage dishevelled and snapped off in some places, and he was shaking, arms wrapped around himself protectively while he kept his head lowered as far as possible. Occassionally a particularly violent sob racked his entire body.

He reminded Caradoc so much of himself what seemed a lifetime ago, it almost made him nauseaus. Young, abused, scared. Too sheltered by the Dream and life in the Grove to survive outside of it, entirely unprepared for the harshness and cruelness of reality. An easy, willing victim.

How pathetic I was back then, he thought as he looked down on the frightened sapling.

By now, though, the older sylvari knew better. He had learned that the Dream was a lie, that life was nothing but pain and suffering just like the Nightmare suggested, but through that he had also learned that you could either let the lurking horrors destroy you, or grow from your pain and use it to become stronger. Strong enough to strike fear into the hearts of others so that nobody would dare to hurt and break you ever again.

Caradoc was convinced that it was absolutely necessary to pass on this knowledge to future generations so they wouldn't be destroyed one by one, like he and his sister and friends had been all these years ago in that wretched laboratory.

This sapling here in front of him was only proof of that. The Pale Tree had lied to him as well about the true nature of the world and other living beings. Like the hypocrite she had always been she claimed to protect her children, yet she had let him leave his sheltered home without warning him of the inherent cruelness of the world out there, and now he paid the price.

But Caradoc would make sure it would be a price worth paying. When he would be done teaching this young sylvari, he wouldn't be a victim any longer. That he promised.

„Tell me your name.“ His voice was low and cool when he finally spoke, and his commanding tone reflected the sternness on his face.

The sapling froze up at the sound of the courtier's voice, and it took a moment before the sobs formed into something that he could decipher as the answer to his order.

„K-Keir.“

Caradoc frowned. Keir's voice was hoarse, but just as soft and meek as the rest of him. Even more things this young one and his own younger self had in common.

„Look at me, Keir.“

This time the sobs stopped, as the prospect of having to look up and in the eyes of the courtier in front of him seemingly scared the sapling into complete silence, but other than that there was no reaction to his demands.

A minute passed between them in absolute stillness.

Caradoc just looked down at the completely paralyzed Keir and waited for him to eventually follow his orders. There was no direct reaction, but a soft pink glow slowly started to emanate from the slim body on the ground, and a look at his own arms, which now began to glow a vivid cyan, told Caradoc that it had already become night time outside.

In one smooth movement the older sylvari crouched down and reached for the sapling's face, grabbing it with one hand and forcing it upwards so he had no other choice than to look at him. His grip was firm and rough, just enough to cause Keir a bit of pain.

Teary and fearful amber eyes stared into his, and apart from even more bruises Caradoc also noticed dried trails of sap that marked Keir's soft, pretty face, one running down his right temple and another one making its way down from the nose to his chin. It seemed like the other courties had roughed him up good before bringing him here.

Good, Caradoc thought. That, along with anything else the sapling had experienced so far would only lend more weight to the lessons he had planned for his new student.

„Listen closely, Keir.“ His voice was as calm as before, but now it had a clear, dangerous edge to it. „From now on, I will be your master, and your mentor. You will adress me as Lord Caradoc, and you will show me respect and loyalty. If I give you an order, you will follow it without hesitation. Disobedience, no matter how small, will be punished. Do you understand?“

Caradoc could feel that he was trying to nod, but he didn't losen his grip.

„Tell me that you understand. I want to hear you say it.“

„I-I understand.“ The younger one's voice was barely audible and tears welled up again in his eyes, but Caradoc had heard what he wanted to.

„Good.“ He finally let go of Keir's face, noticing that his fingers seemed to have added a few more faint bruises to the collection, before standing up and smoothening his leaf-like robes. If it had just become dark outside it meant there was a high possibility that there were still unsuspecting travellers on the roads. A good opportunity to assess Keir’s willingness to learn.

Caradoc gestured towards the back of the chamber, where a washbasin made of dark leaves was resting on a stand fashioned from thick, interwoven, thorny vines before walking towards the door. Keir's eyes followed the direction he had pointed and his gaze rested on the bowl, not looking up at his new master when he walked past.

„Clean yourself up and then meet me outside. Be quick about it. Your lessons begin tonight.“ Caradoc stopped at the door and looked back at him, noticing that all the fear seemed to have drained from the sapling's pale face, entirely replaced with a look of emptiness and resignation. The older one didn't care at this point, though. Even if it took him some time to adjust, Keir would thank him for the lessons he was about to receive soon enough.

[gaysparklepires]

27. Travel Plans

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I took mythology a lot more seriously since I’d entered my new life.

Often, when I looked back over my first three months as… whatever I was, I imagined how the thread of my life might look in the Fates’ loom—who knew but that it actually existed? I was sure my thread must have changed color; I thought it had probably started out as a nice brown, something supportive and non-confrontational, something that would look good in the background. Now it felt like it must be bright crimson, or maybe glistening silver.

The tapestry of family and friends that wove together around me was a beautiful, glowing thing, full of their bright, complementary colors.

I was pleasantly surprised by some of the threads I got to include in my life. The werewolves, with their deep, woodsy colors, were not something I’d expected; Jacob of course, and Seth, too. But my old friends Quil and Embry became part of the fabric as they joined Jacob’s pack, and even Sam and Emily were cordial. The tensions between are families eased. Sam explained that the wolves felt a kinship towards me they couldn’t quite explain, and I wasn’t going to question it too deeply.

Sue and Liam Clearwater were interlaced into our life, too—two more I had no anticipated.

Sue seemed to have taken it on herself to smooth Charlie’s transition into the world of make-believe. She came with him to the Cullens’ most days, though she never seemed truly comfortable here the way her younger son and most of Jake’s pack did. She did not speak often; she just hovered protectively near Charlie. As I watched their interactions, I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I began to recognize the little gestures and actions that belied deeper feelings hidden beneath the surface. I hoped Charlie could see and understand Sue’s motivations as well as I could.

Liam was even less comfortable than Sue and was the only part of our recently extended family was openly hostile to the merger. However, he and Jacob had a new camaraderie that kept him close to us all. I asked Jacob about it once—hesitantly; I didn’t want to pry, but the relationship was so different from the way it used to be, and when I had been able to comb back through my human memories leading up to my change I found myself replaying the conversation between Liam and myself the day he had confronted me. What Liam had said, the passion with which he had defended Jacob had gotten me thinking, coupled with the little nuances I had noticed in how Liam acted around and responded to Jacob. Surely, when they were in their wolf forms, Liam’s thoughts and feelings would have been obvious to Jacob given their telepathy, but Jacob didn’t seem to quite catch on the way I thought he would so my curiosity won out. He had shrugged and told me it was a just a pack thing. Liam was Jacob’s second-in-command now, his “beta,” as I’d called it once long ago.

“I figured as long as I was going to do this Alpha thing for real,” Jacob explained, “I’d better nail down the formalities.”

“Mm,” I had responded, raising my eyebrow. “How does Liam feel about it? Like, truly feel about it?”

“What do you mean?” Jacob asked, puzzled.

“I mean, the whole wolf-telepathy thing,” I waved my fingers around my head to emphasize my words. “You probably know better than he lets on?”

Jacob had frowned at that, “Not really. Liam’s gotten really good at only sharing the thoughts he wants me to hear, which is weird. I don’t get why he’s being so careful.”

“Why indeed.” I stifled a laugh. Jacob would figure it out eventually.

Liam’s new responsibility as Jacob’s second, coupled with what my intuition informed me was a deeper desire, made Liam feel the need to check in with Jacob often, and since Jacob was often at the house…

Liam was not happy to be near us, but he was the exception. Happiness was the main component in my life now, the dominant pattern in the tapestry. So much so that my relationship with Jasper was now much closer than I’d ever dreamed it would be.

At first I was rather annoyed, though.

“Yeesh!” I complained to Edward one night as we were undressing. “If I haven’t killed Charlie or Sue yet, it’s probably not going to happen. I wish Jasper would stop hovering all the time!”

“No one doubts you, Beau, not in the slightest,” he assured me. “You know how Jasper is—he can’t resist a good emotional climate. You’re so happy all the time, love, he gravitates toward you without thinking.”

And then Edward hugged me tightly, because nothing pleased him more than my overwhelming ecstasy in this new life.

And I was euphoric the vast majority of the time. The days were not long enough for me to get my fill of my family and my friends—long phone conversations with Jessica and Angela included; the nights did not have enough hours to satisfy my need for Edward.

There was a flipside to the joy, though. If you turned the fabric of our lives over, I imagined the design on the backside would be woven in the bleak grays of doubt and fear.

We still weren’t entirely sure what I was. The best we could decide was that I was a half-vampire, though there was no precedent for such a thing. Jacob occasionally teased that I was one-fourth vampire, one-fourth werewolf, and two-fourths human. This, despite the fact that he meant it as a joke, didn’t seem out of the question.

For one thing, there was the strange connection I felt to the wolves—different from when I was human—it was something beyond friendship or caring. I had noticed it first when Sam and his pack had come to confront us when I had first changed. It was like I could almost hear their thoughts when they were in wolf form. It wasn’t mind-reading like Edward, though. It was like I could sense the feelof their thoughts. There was the one moment that stuck out in my mind with particular importance.

When we had been waiting for Sam’s decision, I had wished I could know what he was thinking—what the pack was thinking—and for the briefest, fleeting moment I could have sworn I had gotten that wish. It had truly been a millisecond, but I remembered the feeling with crystalline clarity; first, I had felt the sensation of something shifting in my mind, followed by a sudden burst of feelings that weren’t my own. It had ended as soon as it had started. But something else had happened in that moment; Alice had reacted to something at the same time I had felt that shift. So much had happened that I hadn’t thought about it much. It would be wrong to say I had forgotten; I forgot nothing now, I merely moved thoughts out of the forefront of my mind until I was ready to address them again.

When I had asked Alice what had happened from her perspective, she was hesitant to answer me at first. After some prying, she finally admitted what had happened.

“I didn’t want to mention it, and Edward agreed,” she began, “but there was a moment where… Well, where…”

“Where what, Alice?”

“I could see the wolves.” She said, barely above a whisper.

I stared at her, dumbstruck for half a second. Alice’s visions were blocked by the wolves, it had been an interesting dilemma to work around when they were involved in any of our decision making. “You mean you could see the wolves?”

“Yes, that’s why I knew everything would be alright,” her eyes became distant, like she was focusing on something. “It was just the one time, though. I could see their future. It was just a flash, and then it went dark again. It hasn’t happened since then.”

“What changed?” I asked.

She looked at me for what felt like a long second. “I’m not sure, Beau. But something tells me it had to do with you. What you are.”

“Me?”

“I see vampires because I am one, I see humans because I was one,” she had told me this before, “I can’t see the pack because I have no connection to them, but maybe you do. And maybe because I have a connection to you, and maybe you have a connection to them…” She trailed off.

“I could feel their thoughts, for just a second, that day.” I said quietly. “It was weird.”

She contemplated this for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, it hasn’t happened again. All dark when they’re involved.”

“All dark…” I repeated.

She watched me for a second, then sighed dramatically. “I swear, if you don’t let me teach you how to use your closet soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

When I had discussed the matter with Carlisle and Edward, they had explained that they had already discussed it privately, to my mild annoyance. Edward told me they hadn’t wanted to worry me too much, perhaps it was a strange fluke, perhaps it was signs of some sort of extra power my vampire nature had given me. Either way, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Matters that had undercut my happiness.

The source of my chagrin was a journey that had to be made, a very important and potentially dangerous journey that I felt had to be a solo trip.

This was the only argument that Edward and I had gotten in since I’d changed. The main point of the contention was the “solo” part. But the facts were what they were, and my plan was the only one that made rational sense. I had to go see the Volturi, and I had to do it absolutely alone.

Even freed from my old nightmares, from any dreams at all, it was impossible to forget the Volturi. Nor did they leave us without reminders.

Until the day that Aro’s present showed up, I didn’t know that Alice had sent a wedding announcement to the Volturi leaders; we’d been far away on Esme’s island when she’d seen a vision of Volturi soldiers—Jane and Alec, the devastatingly powerful twins, among them. Caius was planning to send a hunting party to see if I was still human, against their edict (because I knew about the secret vampire world, I either must join it or be silenced… permanently). So Alice mailed the announcement, seeing that this would delay them as they deciphered the meaning behind it. But they would come eventually. That was certain.

The present itself was not overtly threatening. Extravagant, yes, almost frightening in that very extravagance. The treat was in the parting line of Aro’s congratulatory note, written in black ink on a square of heavy, plain white paper in Aro’s own hand:

I so look forward to seeing the new Mr. Cullen in person.

The gift was presented in an ornately carved, ancient wooden box inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, ornamented with a rainbow of gemstones. Alice said the box itself was a priceless treasure, that it would have outshone just about any piece of jewelry besides the one inside it.

“I always wondered where the crown jewels disappeared to after John of England pawned them in the thirteenth century,” Carlisle said. “I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that the Volturi have their share.”

The necklace was simple—gold woven into a rope of a chain, almost scaled, like a smooth snake that would curl close around the throat. One jewel hung suspended from the rope: a white diamond the size of a golf ball.

The unsubtle reminder in Aro’s note interested me more than the jewel. The Volturi needed to see that I was immortal, that the Cullens had been obedient to the Volturi’s orders, and they needed to see this soon. They could not be allowed near Forks. There was only one way to keep our life here safe.

“You’re not going alone,” Edward had insisted through his teeth, his hands clenching into fists.

“They won’t hurt me,” I’d said as soothingly as I could manage, forcing my voice to sound sure. “They have no reason to. I’m a not human anymore. Case closed.”

“No. Absolutely no. You may not be human but you’re not a true vampire, Beau.”

“Edward, it’s the only way to protect everything. If Aro reads your mind, he’ll know how close we are to the wolves. If Aro sees that we’ve made alliances with the pack we could put them—and us—in danger. I’m the only one that Aro can’t read.”

And he hadn’t been able to argue with that. My logic was watertight.

Given my new connection to the wolves, I had dedicated myself to learning as much as I could about them. Billy Black obliged with more of the Quileute history than I had previously known, and Carlisle had told me everything he knew about werewolves. Most distressingly, was the history the Volturi had with werewolves.

The Volturi had never, to any of our combined knowledge, met the Quileute, but they had met werewolves in the past. Met them, hated them, and hunted them. The Volturi had tried to wipe them out in the past—a particular passion of Caius, destroying werewolves. I knew that if the Volturi found out about our alliance with the Pack, they wouldn’t be happy.

My status as a half-vampire was a concern, but the Volturi didn’t need to know it was Jacob’s involvement that had made me a half-vampire. We’d just have to come up with as good of a story as we could, and Aro wouldn’t be able to see the lie in my protected thoughts. Theoretically, a half-vampire was better than no vampire at all, right?

One of Edward’s concerns lay in something that even I knew about Aro in the short time that I’d known him. He was a collector—and his most prized treasures were his living pieces. He coveted beauty, talent, and rarity in his immortal followers more than any jewel locked in his vaults. It was unfortunate enough that he’d begun to covet Alice’s and Edward’s abilities. If the Volturi accepted my half-vampire status, Edward feared I would give Aro more reason to be jealous of Carlie’s family. By Edward’s appraisal, I was beautiful and gifted and unique—I was one of a kind.

But Alice saw no trouble with my trip, though she was worried by the indistinct quality of her visions. She said they were sometimes similarly hazy when there were outside decisions that might conflict but that had not been solidly resolved. This uncertainty made Edward, already hesitant, extremely opposed to what I had to do. He wanted to come with me as far as my connection to London, but I worried having Edward anywhere near the Volturi. Carlisle was coming instead. It made both Edward and me a little more relaxed, knowing that Carlisle would only be a few hours away from me.

Alice kept searching for the future, but the things she found were unrelated to what she was looking for. A new trend in the stock market; a possible visit of reconciliation from Ivan, though his decision was not firm; a snowstorm that wouldn’t hit for another six weeks; a call from Renée (I was practicing my “rough” voice, and getting better at it every day—to Renée’s knowledge, I was still sick, but mending).

We bought the tickets for Italy the day after the three month anniversary of my changing. I planned for it to be a short trip, so I hadn’t told Charlie about it. Jacob knew, and he took Edward’s view on things. He wanted to discuss it with me in private.

Jacob and I had gone out to the woods for our talk, and to get away from the business of the house for a little bit. He offered to change into his wolf form and hunt with me for a bit.

Hunting wasn’t as strictly necessary for me as it was for Edward and the other Cullens. I could still eat human food and it satisfied me very well, though I still needed blood. I had experimented with my diet for a few weeks. I found a lack of blood made me feel more sluggish. It dulled my more supernatural senses. I had gone the last three weeks without hunting and my thirst was much stronger, though still not unmanageable. Physically, we had discovered that a lack of blood almost seemed to lessen my vampire nature. I was slower and not as strong as I would have otherwise been. Looking at me, my skin was still pale and free of imperfections, but my eyes looked less luminous and more like they had when I was human. My heart was beating faster than it had before, closer to a human meter. It was ironic, abstaining from blood made it easier to pass for a true human, but the increased strain the thirst caused made it more dangerous.

“A hunt wouldn’t be the worst thing,” I mused. “I’m getting tired of being so slow.”

“You’re getting tired of it?” Jacob snorted. “I feel like I’m walking with a snail.”

“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes. “Before we hunt, let’s get it over with. Tell me all the reasons why you think I shouldn’t be going to Italy.”

Jacob tensed, he shifted uncomfortably, and I strange look passed over his face. “Well, about that…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think you should be going alone, for the record.” He said quickly. “I don’t like it. I get why you’re doing it, but I don’t like it.”

“Okay, well, you’re taking it better than Edward.” I chuckled. “But I thought you wanted to come out here so you could convince me not to go?”

He didn’t answer, shifting his weight again. I raised my eyebrow expectantly.

The narrow meadow we were standing in was very still, very empty. The fluttering snow was thinning above me, almost gone. Alice had seen that it wouldn’t stick for many weeks.

“Here’s the thing, Beau,” Jacob began slowly, “You’re my best friend. And we’ve been through a lot together…”

“Yes,” I said slowly, confused.

“And I’m happy for you, Beau. I’m really happy for you and Edward. You guys are great together, and I’m sorry it took me so long to see that.”

I blinked, watching him struggle through his speech.

“I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize having you as my best friend was more than enough.”

“Be fair to yourself, Jake.” I sighed, “things were complicated and it wasn’t all your fault.”

“Sure, sure.” He said, then he paused for a long second. “Beau?”

“Yes?”

“You want me to be happy, right?”

A dim memory of a conversation between Jacob and myself came to the forefront of my mind; “I hope, beyond anything, that you find someone who makes you happy because you deserve to be happy, Jake. You deserve to find someone who loves you.”

The memory was dim, because it was a human one. Back when Jacob first found out I was dying, and I had tried to say goodbye to him. I had meant the words, and I still did. Nothing would make me happier than to know Jacob was truly happy.

“Of course I do, Jake,” I smiled. “You know I do.”

“Okay, right,” Jacob shifted again, “because, well, here’s the thing—”

“Liam told you how he feels about you?” I guessed, fighting a wide grin.

Jacob’s eyes grew wide with disbelief, his mouth went slack. “What?”

I furrowed my brows, “Liam! He finally told you how he feels about you, right?”

Jacob blinked a few times, “Liam… feels about me?”

Now I was confused, “Yeah, didn’t he…” Jacob’s surprised expression told me what his words did not. “Liam… didn’t tell you.”

“Liam hasn’t said anything to me,” Jacob swallowed, “But I… I mean, I don’t know, the last few weeks I just… I’ve been thinking about him a lot and, well, I don’t know. We’ve just been connecting and—Does Liam like me?”

“Oh, god, Liam’s going to rip me apart.” I groaned.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jacob grabbed my shoulders. “Did Liam tell youhe likes me?”

“Not exactly,” I winced. “But when he came to yell at me that day, the way he talked about you, Jake. I mean, if he doesn’t like you then he thinks the world of you.”

“So you’re basing this off of a rant from almost four months ago?” Jacob’s face fell.

“No, it’s not just that. It’s the way Liam is around you. The way he looks at you when you’re not looking. The way he gets… I guess it would be jealous when you tell me you love me or we’re spending a lot of time together.”

“Really?” a spark lit up Jacob’s eyes.

“That’s why I asked you a the other week how Liam feels about everything, if you heard anything when you were connected. I figured he would have let it slip in his thoughts—”

Jacob clapped his hand to his forehead. “That’s why he’s been so careful when we’re phased…”

I grinned. “Well, looks like you’re going to have to be the one to tell him how you feel.”

Jacob nodded slowly, then he stopped, and his eyes met mine. “Beau, are you… okay with that?”

I furrowed my brows again, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be, Jake?”

“Well, after everything that’s happened… After me being so, uh, stubborn about us being a thing… You don’t think I’m the worst because I like Liam, do you?”

I burst out laughing. “Jacob Black, you’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, come on, I’m trying to be honest and open here.”

I reached up to hold his face in my hands, “Jacob Black. You are my best friend in the whole world, I want nothing but happiness for you. If you like Liam I think you should tell him and see where things go because you deserve to be happy.” I laughed, “I mean, I got everything I wanted, didn’t I? I have Edward, the Cullens, I still have all my human friends and family. It’s about time you got some happiness, too.”

Jacob smiled and pulled me into a tight hug. “Thanks, Beau. I’m sorry about everything that went wrong. But I’m glad I’ve got you for a best friend now.”

“Now and forever, Jake.”

“Sure, sure.” He chuckled.

“Just don’t tell Liam I said he liked you.” I warned, pulling away from the hug.

Jacob laughed, “Yeah, that’s probably for the—” His voice cut off with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes went wild as he scanned the area.

“Jake, what is it?” I asked, sniffing the air. My senses really were dulled, I couldn’t sense anything.

“Vampire.” He growled, “I don’t recognize the scent.” He leapt back from me, and by the time he hit the ground again he was in his wolf form, the shreds of his clothes fluttering to the ground.

My eyes swept the area, searching for danger. First the trees, then the mountainside. As my eyes flitted across the edge of a distant cliff, standing out starkly blue-gray against the green-black forest, a glint of silver—or was it gold?—gripped my attention.

My gaze zeroed in on the color that shouldn’t have been there, so far away in the haze that an eagle wouldn’t have been able to make it out. I stared.

He stared back.

That he was a vampire was obvious. His skin was marble white, the texture a million times smoother than human skin. Even under the clouds, he glistened every so slightly. If his skin had not given him away, his stillness would have. Only vampires and statues could be so perfectly motionless.

His hair was pale, pale blond, almost silver. This was the gleam that had caught my eye. It hung straight as a ruler down to his chin.

He was a stranger to me. I was absolutely certain I’d never seen him before, even as a human. None of the faces in my muddy memory were the same as this one. But I knew him at once from his dark golden eyes.

Ivan had decided to come after all.

For one moment I stared at him, and he stared back. I wondered if he would guess immediately who I was as well. I half-raised my hand, about to wave, but his lip twisted the tiniest bit, making his face suddenly hostile.

Jacob growled at my side, his enormous body wrought with tension. Ivan’s eyes jerked reflexively to the sound when it echoed to him a few seconds later. His eyes narrowed, and I imagined what it must look like from his perspective. An enormous russet werewolf, perhaps the very one who had killed his Laurent. How long had Ivan been watching us? Long enough to see our affectionate exchange, I was sure.

Ivan’s face spasmed in pain.

Instinctually, I opened my hands in front of me in an apologetic gesture. He turned back to me, and his lip curled back over his teeth, his jaw unlocked as he growled.

When the faint sound reached me, he had already turned and disappeared into the forest.

“Crap!” I groaned.

I pulled out my cell phone and hit the speed dial. Edward answered on the first ring. Jacob remained tense at my side.

“Come, bring Carlisle,” I trilled so fast I wondered if Jacob could keep up. “I saw Ivan and he saw me, but he also saw Jacob phase and Ivan got mad and ran away, I think. He hasn’t shown up here—yet, anyway—but he looked pretty upset so maybe he will. If he doesn’t, you and Carlisle have to go after him and talk to him. I feel so bad.”

Jacob rumbled.

“Oh,” I added, “and bring some clothes for Jacob.”

“We’ll be there in half a minute,” Edward assured me, and I could hear the whoosh of the wind his running made.

We waited silently, listening carefully for the sound of an approach we did not recognize.

When the sound came, though, it was very familiar. And then Edward was at my side, Carlisle a few seconds behind holding a bundle of clothing. I was surprised to hear the heavy pad of big paws following behind Carlisle. I supposed I shouldn’t have been shocked.  With the threat of a strange vampire, of course Jacob would call in reinforcements.

“Ivan was up on that ridge,” I told them at once, pointing out the spot. If Ivan was fleeing, he already had quite a head start. Would he stop and listen to Carlisle? His expression before made me think not. “Maybe you should call Emmett and Jasper and have them come with you. Ivan looked... really upset. He growled at me.”

“What?” Edward said angrily.

Carlisle put a hand on his arm. “He’s grieving. I’ll go after him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Edward insisted.

They exchanged a long glance—perhaps Carlisle was measuring Edward’s irritation with Ivan against his helpfulness as a mind reader. Finally, Carlisle nodded, he handed me the clothes, and they took off to find the trail without calling for Jasper or Emmett.

Jacob huffed impatiently and poked my back with his nose.

“Oh, sorry, Jake.” I held the clothes out and he gingerly took them with his teeth, he turned to run back to the trees but not before giving me a pointed glance and nodding his head toward Seth and Liam.

I turned to face them. Seth had an odd, wolfish grin on his big face. Liam, however, looked like he wanted to snap my head off.

“Crap.” I said again.

I was wondering if I’d be able to outrun Liam, but then he let out a huffing sound like a laugh, shook his head, and winked at me.

“I’m sorry, Liam. I thought he knew.”

Liam rolled his eyes before turning to run back toward the house, Seth followed, still grinning.

Jacob joined me a second later. “How bad is it?” He asked, adjusting the waistband of his new pants.

“Liam? Or Ivan?” I asked darkly.

He didn’t clarify as we sprinted after Liam and Seth.

[whitebear-ofthe-watertribe]

That Which Holds Us - Chapter 2

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug (Sequel to A Brand New Dawn)

Pairing(s): Adrien / Marinette, Nino / Alya

Summary: It’s been several months since Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered their true identities. Now that they aren’t trapped by secrets, they can finally be their full selves around each other and have never been closer. Marinette is going into her final year at university, Adrien is exploring new classes and passions, and their friends Alya and Nino seem to be moving towards a happy future together. It all feels like things couldn’t be better.

But of course, nothing in life is quite so perfect.

When Adrien starts having vivid nightmares and visions about his mother, old questions begin to resurface. Will he be able to find the answers, or will these ghosts from the past tear apart the heroes of Paris for good?

Reminder, you can also read / follow this fic at AO3 here, and FF.net here.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 6,296

Enjoy!!!

Marinette leaned against the cool ceramic of her bathroom sink, picking gingerly at the flaking skin along her shoulders. The spattering of freckles along her arms stood out darker than usual against the angry red burns. 

Biting her lip, she removed a satisfyingly large bit and enjoyed the momentary relief from the itching that had plagued her since the blistering began. 

Her eyes wandered to the reflection of the clock that hung on the wall behind her. She and Adrien were to be at Master Fu’s for afternoon tea in half an hour.

For years, they had all made it a sort of tradition to meet up once a month for afternoon tea. They often discussed Miraculous lore, as Master Fu deciphered the pages of the Grimoire he’d scanned so long ago. It took a while, as many parts of it were written in all sorts of languages. Originally, Marinette and Adrien had met with Master Fu individually. But since they learned each other’s identities, they had combined these meetings to include everyone.

Adrien had texted her earlier about picking her up to walk over there together once he got off work. 

Marinette unlocked her phone to look at his message for the dozenth time that day. There was nothing strange about the message itself, but she still frowned down at it in frustration.

She had awoken that morning to find the sheets beside her empty and cool, with Adrien and Plagg nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t exactly unusual for them to disappear like that. It only bothered her because she felt she knew the reason why.

In the beginning months of their relationship, Adrien had often woken up in a panic from the violent nightmares. She’d done her best to comfort him and reassure him that all was well. She also hoped that these sorts of nights would fade over time, but while they did become more infrequent, her partner never seemed to be free of them.

After a while, Adrien simply stopped waking her up, trying to pretend that it didn’t happen anymore. But in the mornings that followed, it only took one look to tell he was hiding the truth. And though she argued that she wanted to be there for him, he would just calmly insist that she didn’t need to lose sleep too.

Sighing, Marinette glanced down to share a knowing look with Tikki, who swam leisurely back and forth through the water pooled in the sink basin, held there by a rubber stopper blocking the drain.

“And Plagg didn’t wake you up either?” she asked. 

Tikki shook her head.

“I’ve always hated how stubborn he can be when it comes to things like this.”

Marinette nodded, swirling her fingers through the water. 

Tikki floated in a slow circle in their wake. 

Turning and stretching her arms above her head, Marinette winced a little at the pinching of her sensitive red skin, but otherwise ignored the pain. Wandering into her bedroom, she pondered what might have brought the nightmares on this time. She had begun to work out a sort of pattern; whenever Adrien was particularly exhausted or had spent a long day dealing with his father, a bad night was almost guaranteed to follow.

Though of course when she’d finally proposed this theory to him, he’d only smiled wearily and told her once again to not worry so much.

Stooping down to pull a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt out of a drawer, she changed out of her pajamas and threw her hair up into a simple knot. Going back into her bathroom, she glanced at the clock again and pulled the stopper out of her sink, pausing briefly to enjoy how Tikki spun around with the water as it whirled down the drain.

Shaking off some droplets, Tikki soared into the air to alight on top of Marinette’s head.

“Are you going to talk to him about it?” she asked.

“You know I am,” Marinette shrugged. “He has to wear down and talk about it eventually, right?”

Tikki patted her head, but otherwise made no response. 

Marinette bit her lip, guessing at the doubt that was running through Tikki’s mind. After all, she was trying to ignore those same thoughts herself.

A knock at the front door pulled her out of her contemplation. Grabbing her bag and a wrapped package for Master Fu, Marinette quickly shut off all the lights and moved through the apartment to peer out the peephole.

“Wow, using the front door like an actual civilized human this time?” she teased as she opened it to reveal Adrien standing in the hall, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. 

Plagg was hanging from a pair of sunglasses tucked into Adrien’s shirt collar, his tiny cat tail twitching with amusement at Marinette’s quip.

“I figured having Chat Noir show up outside your window in broad daylight might make your neighbors a little suspicious,” Adrien said, grinning. 

He moved back to give her room to step out of the apartment and lock the door. 

She turned to face him and he bent down to pull her into a hug, softly pressing his mouth to hers before they made their way towards the staircase. 

Plagg let go of Adrien’s glasses, soaring down to join Tikki in Marinette’s bag.

As they exited the building into the blazing sunlight and turned up the street, Marinette looked sideways up at Adrien, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Swiftly, she raised her hand and used her fingers to give him a hard flick on the side of his forehead.

“Ouch!” Adrien jerked away from her, giving her an indignant look and rubbed at the spot she’d hit. “What was that for?!”

Marinette crossed her arms as she continued to walk, her lips pursed. 

“You know exactly what that was for. When are you gonna stop pretending that you’re not still getting those dreams?”

Adrien shoved his hands back into his pockets and matched her pace. She saw his jaw tighten stubbornly.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s definitely not nothing.”

“Marinette, please stop worrying about that.”

“No!” Marinette huffed, frowning up at him. 

He was trying to avoid her gaze. 

Plagg and Tikki looked between the two of them from below.

“Adrien, would you stop trying so hard to carry the whole world on your shoulders all the time? We’re partners, we are supposed to be doing that together, remember?”

“I’m dealing with it on my own –”

“Oh, so you and Plagg are just going to keep suffering together in silence, right?” Marinette glanced down to her side, and saw Plagg’s expression turn sulky. “No offence, but that’s not exactly ‘dealing’ with it.”

Adrien sighed heavily and glanced over at her.

“Mar, listen. I really appreciate you caring about me and Plagg like this. I’m not kidding!” he continued hurriedly, as she raised her eyebrows in doubt. “I mean, both of us really are comforted by the fact that you and Tikki want to help us so bad. It’s just…”

“Yeah?” Marinette prompted softly.

Adrien let out another sigh.

“I don’t know how to make them stop. And reliving them in the day doesn’t really help anything either.” 

They made their way down a set of concrete stairs into the subway tunnels, where the temperature was pleasantly cooler away from the sun. The Kwamis ducked out of sight as the crowds grew more dense. 

Adrien unconsciously tucked his hand into hers out of habit, and pulled her off to the side, a little ways away from the group of people clustered on the main platform. He bent down a little towards her, his voice low. 

“If there was some way to make them go away, you know I’d come to you for help first thing. But it seems like this is something that may only go away over time, if ever. And I don’t want to spend any more energy or emotion on them than I have to. I just want to keep living life normally, you know?”

Marinette bit her lip, looking up at him with worry.

“I don’t like it when you’re hurting, though. I want to be able to help you.”

“I know,” he said, smiling down at her. 

Releasing her hand, he pulled her into him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. As he rested his cheek on top of her head, she enjoyed breathing in his familiar warm scent. 

“You do help me, though,” he continued. “Just being together is a gift. Spending all the time with you that I can helps more than you could ever know.”

Grinning, Marinette tucked her face further into his chest.

“Yeah, I kinda like being around you too, I guess,” she said, her voice muffled. She felt Adrien’s soft laugh vibrate through her.

They stood like this for a few moments more before a silver train came whooshing into the tunnel. They made their way onto the last car, and embraced again as the doors closed. 

Adrien held onto a steadying rail with one arm, and held her close with the other.

Marinette stared out the back window, watching the tracks disappear without really seeing them as her mind ran over what Adrien had said. 

Her desire to help him and Plagg had not lessened, but she understood him not wanting to relive the nightmares. And he did have a point; as of yet, there was nothing she could think of to make the dreams actually stop.

Unsure of what to do, and angry that she didn’t have the solution to Adrien’s problems, Marinette turned her head to gaze up at his face. Standing on her tiptoes and reaching her arms up around his neck, she pulled him into a gentle kiss. 

Adrien returned it, smiling, before pulling away a little to rest his forehead against hers. 

Marinette looked into his familiar green eyes, watching a mixture of emotions play out in them.

“I love you, Chaton,” she murmured.

“I love you too, Bugaboo.”

Their journey to Master Fu’s went quickly. It wasn’t long before they found themselves standing outside his door. 

Adrien knocked while Marinette fanned herself with her hand, feeling sweaty from the sultry weather. The door clicked open to reveal Wayzz hovering at eye level, a wide smile on his tiny green face as he regarded them.

“Welcome friends!” he said happily, laughing when Tikki and Plagg zoomed out of Marinette’s bag into the room.

“How are you today, Wayzz?” Marinette asked as she and Adrien followed their Kwamis inside, where it was pleasantly cooler.

“Very well,” he declared, closing the door behind them. “I’ve always liked warm Summer weather like this, you know.”

Marinette nodded, remembering well how much he had always expressed his love for the season. 

Wayzz quickly joined Tikki and Plagg as they soared around the room, giggling and chatting in a language she couldn’t understand. This was standard behavior; the Kwamis tended to keep to themselves when they were all gathered. They preferred to let their Chosen learn more about matters regarding the Miraculous on their own, and only joined the conversation when they absolutely had to.

“Where’s Master Fu?” Adrien asked, seating himself upon one of the floor cushions beside the low table.

“I am here,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen. 

Master Fu came around the corner, smiling and holding a tray with a steaming teapot and three cups. He set them on the table next to a plate of cookies and the large binder full of scanned pages from the Miraculous Grimoire. 

“I trust the two of you have been well?”

“Well enough,” Marinette said, walking forward and holding out her present to him. “For you, Monsieur.”

“Oh how kind!” he exclaimed, grinning wider. Unwrapping it, he let out a pleased laugh. “You know me well, my dear.” 

He held up the tropical shirt to his shoulders, looking down at the bright swirls of turquoise and deep sea greens. 

“Ooh! I like this one!” said Wayzz, landing on his Chosen’s shoulder and admiring the material.

“It does bear some resemblance to you, doesn’t it?” Master Fu said. 

Wayzz nodded, pleased, before jumping into the air again to continue chasing the other two Kwamis around.

Marinette giggled as she sat down beside Adrien. 

Master Fu folded the shirt affectionately and set it on top of one of the antique side tables beside the door to his kitchen, then seated himself across from them.

“So, how was the camping trip?”

“Really fun!” Adrien exclaimed, before correcting himself. “Well, mostly. Marinette isn’t really one for wilderness.”

“It was fine,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes but giving him an honest smile nonetheless. “I’m just not as into backpacking as the rest of you. Plus, I could’ve done without getting this sunburn.”

Adrien nodded sympathetically.

“I hear you two have been busy with more than just your Summer Vacations, though,” Master Fu said, dividing the steaming tea into the three cups.

“I guess you could say that,” Adrien nodded, reaching out to take one of the cookies. “The Akuma yesterday wasn’t too bad though. We actually had a pretty easy time of it.”

“Yeah, a little too easy,” Marinette said. 

Master Fu regarded her curiously.

“What makes you say that?”

Marinette shrugged, taking a sip of tea and enjoying the minty sensation that ran down her throat. For a hot drink in such warm weather, it was oddly refreshing. 

“I mean that the last few times we’ve had to fight an Akuma, it’s hardly been any effort at all.”

“Do you think it’s because you’ve been improving your skills as a team?” Master Fu asked, sipping at his own tea and watching Tikki swoop down to gather an armful of cookies to bring back to the ornate gramophone where Plagg and Wayzz sat waiting – the same gramophone where, Marinette knew, the other Miraculous gems were hidden.

Shaking her head, Marinette looked from Master Fu to Adrien. 

“No, I mean that it really has been too easy. Like, there was that whole stretch of time after the Puppet Master’s attack last Winter where there wasn’t a single Akuma. For months! And then this Summer we’ve had a few more regular Akumas, but they were all… well, easy.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed.

“You know, you’ve got a point,” he said. “Like we’ve always had a weird mixture of Akumas, and some were definitely more dangerous and formidable than others… but yeah, the ones we’ve taken down lately were just sort of… blah.”

“It’s almost like… like Hawkmoth doesn’t really have his heart in it lately, you know?” Marinette said, leaning forward insistently. “Like maybe after all these years of trying to get our Miraculous, the fire has gone out of his fight.”

“That may be,” Master Fu nodded. “But I find it interesting that he would have chosen now of all times to throw in the towel, as it were.”

“I mean do you think there is anything that could have made him stop caring as much?” Marinette asked.

Adrien let out a huff beside her, and when she turned to him she was surprised to find that his expression had grown dark.

“It’s like you said, isn’t it?” He hunched his shoulders in a protective manner and started leafing absently through the scanned pages of the Grimoire. “The last major Akuma he sent our way was Mathis. It was one of the worst attacks to date. Maybe he was shaken up by the fact that he actually put someone in the hospital. Of course, that would mean assuming that monster has some sense of remorse.”

His voice had an edge to it. 

Marinette felt her heart clench in her chest. Glancing at Master Fu, who nodded in understanding, she moved closer to put her arm around Adrien. 

He had landed on a page depicting the Peafowl Miraculous. It showed a woman brandishing a pair of bladed fans, with a pale blue veil covering her nose and mouth. Beside her was a large image of a jeweled pin. 

Adrien was staring down at the illustrations blankly. 

Reaching out and tracing the lines with her fingers, Marinette whispered softly to him.

“The nightmares aren’t real.”

Adrien’s jaw clenched. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep breath, then turned to look at her. His expression softened and he nodded gratefully.

“I’m sorry,” he said, addressing everyone in the room. 

From the gramophone, Plagg shot him a meaningful look, but said nothing.

Marinette gave Adrien a slight tug and he straightened up a little again. She kept her arm wrapped around his, though, and softly traced his tattoo as she had done with the drawing of the Peafowl Miraculous.

“We cannot know for sure whether Hawkmoth has lost interest in his battle for your Miraculous,” Master Fu continued as though there had been no pause in their discussion. “There are any number of possibilities for why he did not bother to attack for so long, as well as for why he might be sending only sub-par Akumas forth to do his dirty work.”

“I just wish we were closer to knowing his true identity,” Marinette said, resting an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her hand. “We’ve been chasing his minions around for ages now, and we’re still no closer to finding out more about him.”

“Everything happens in its own time,” Master Fu said sagely.

The three of them spoke for quite a while longer, moving on to less pressing matters. Adrien and Marinette elaborated on their backpacking tales, showing Master Fu all the pictures. 

The Kwamis continued to do their own thing, playing and chatting and soaring around their Chosen’s heads.

Several cups of tea later, Marinette deemed they should head out. They still needed to pick up treats from her family’s bakery before going to Adrien’s apartment, where they would meet Nino and Alya.

“I look forward to our next tea time, young heroes,” Master Fu said with a smile as he hugged them both goodbye.

“Absolutely,” Marinette said, laughing a little as Wayzz swooped in to give her cheek an affectionate hug. 

“Until next time!”

Plagg and Tikki made themselves comfortable in Marinette’s purse once again. As the door closed behind them and they made their way down the hall, she laced her fingers with Adrien’s and looked up at him.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him a little in the side.

“Hm?” he murmured, leading her into the early evening air. 

Enormous clouds towered above the city in an azure sky, glowing brilliant pinks and oranges in the light from the setting sun.

“You ok, kitty?” she asked. 

Adrien looked down at her, and his expression told her he knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Yeah,” he sighed, giving her a gentle smile. “I’m just looking forward to an evening with our friends.”

“… Mhmm,” she said after a moment, allowing him this change in topic, though not entirely convinced as they moved in the direction of her parent’s place.

*******

“No! NO! Absolutely NOT!” Alya shrieked.

Nino chanced a glance away from the TV to find her rigidly hunched over the controller in her hands, a crazed look in her eyes as she actually snarled. 

Her knuckles were white as she rapidly pounded the buttons. 

Turning his eyes back to the screen, Nino bit his lip in an effort to smother his laugh.

It had been a long time since he’d first introduced Alya to Crystalcore, a first-person shooter game that they usually played live. She’d been curious when she discovered that he, Adrien, and Marinette all enjoyed it, and he’d enthusiastically invited her to join their team when the four of them were hanging out one night. They’d all been very excited, taking things slow and trying to help show her the ropes. After a few trials though, one thing became very apparent; Alya totally sucked at Crystalcore.

It wasn’t like she was horrible at all the other games he’d shown her. They would often have fun enjoying a lazy afternoon playing different things, after all. But there was just something about combat games and Alya that did not click. And throw in the heightened unpredictability that came with playing Crystalcore live? Well, that situation had “disaster” written all over it.

“Son of a –!” Alya exclaimed as she was killed for the dozenth time that evening. The tension in her body was released as she slumped back, defeated, against the coffee table that sat in the middle of the living room.

Nino couldn’t help it this time. He let out a laugh that quickly earned him a smack on his arm.

“We can play something else, you know,” he suggested, keeping his eyes trained forward.

John and Antoine – a couple buddies from his band – were connected and playing as his and Alya’s teammates. He’d just witnessed John getting taken out by the enemy member he was presently stalking, and could hear him complaining about it over the headset.

“I’m not going to concede defeat,” Alya grumbled, pushing her own headset down to sit on her neck. “And it’s not my fault this time, anyways. It’s that same guy from last time who keeps singling me out as an ‘easy target.’” 

She raised her hands to put air quotations around the last two words.

“I mean, can you blame him?” he teased, and she smacked him again. “Hey it’s fine. You don’t have to be the best at everything, babe. We were bound to find something that’s just not your thing sooner or later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and win this round so I can get back in.”

“Aaand… done.” 

Nino turned away from the menu screen that appeared as the mission concluded, having just taken out their last opponent with the help of Antoine. Despite Alya’s less-than-stellar gaming, they were still doing fairly well. They had been playing against one particular team all evening, and were tied neck and neck.

Sitting up, he wrapped his arm around Alya’s propped up knee and leaned against her affectionately. 

“Aren’t the love birds supposed to be here already?”

Alya reached over to unlock her phone, which sat on the floor beside her. 

“Mar just texted me a bit ago that they’re leaving her parent’s bakery and should be here soon.”

“Yum,” Nino said, quickly selecting a few options on the screen before the next loading page opened for their new mission. “Alright then, how about we call this the last round for now? We’ll sign on with Adrien and Mar-bear later.”

John and Antione murmured their agreement.

“Let’s make this last match count, shall we?” Antoine suggested. “Show these guys up once and for all?”

“You got it, man.”

Leaning forward, Alya repositioned her headset and inched closer to the TV, muttering something under her breath.

Nino thought he caught the words “show THIS asshole who’s the easy target,” and he grinned, proud of her for not taking this beating lying down.

The arena loaded, and he recognized the mountains and ruins of the location known as Alpine Fortress.

“Let’s move, Blue Team.”

Antoine quickly took the lead down one hallway.

Alya and Nino moved to flank him. 

John disappeared and Nino knew he was going for his preferred strategy of trying to find the high ground and act as sniper.

The goal was simple; the first team to defeat their enemies and “claim” the base for themselves wins. Most of the time, they would play on a mode that allowed respawning at certain checkpoints if you “died.” But John had been in a more intense mood that evening and had chosen a livestream that enforced a one-life rule. The upside was that you could be hit multiple times and it was likely that your hit points could keep you alive for a bit longer. The downside was that when you died, you were out until the next mission began.

It wasn’t Nino’s favorite mode to play on, and he knew Alya detested being put out of commission so much. He only consented because he knew they wouldn’t have to play on this mode for long.

The group made their way cautiously through the fortress. John and Antoine were discussing strategy in Nino’s ears.

A hint of movement flickered in Alya’s screen; the three members of the enemy team were moving along a platform in the distance.

“There!” Alya cried, as John began targeting them from the floor above them. 

Nino and Antoine moved closer to the edge of their own platform, assisting in the shooting. One by one, the enemy fell.

“Well done, team!” John declared proudly, his player jumping down to rejoin them. “Just one more target and the game’s in the bag.”

“Where’s the fourth guy, though?” Alya said slowly, panning her camera around from her position at the entrance to an interior hallway.

Suddenly, Nino’s half of the screen turned crimson. His controller vibrated alarmingly in his hands, and the word ‘ELIMINATED’ flashed before him. The game displayed that both John and Antoine were out as well, all three of them killed in a single blow by a grenade from the remaining enemy player. 

Antoine swore loudly into Nino’s headphones.

“Wait… WAIT! What just happened?!” Alya yelped, frantically trying to find better shelter, having narrowly avoided the attack.

“I…” Nino stared at the screen, processing this sudden turn of events with growing horror. “I think we were all just killed by a grenade.”

“What?!” Alya shot up to her knees, her eyes wide in panic. “So that means I’m –”

“That means you’re it, babe.”

“Holy crap. Oh HOLY FU–”

“It’s ok! We’re ok!”

Nino rose to a crouch next to her, turning back and forth between her and the screen. He had no idea why this time of all times was so tense, but adrenaline was pumping through him nonetheless. His hands hovered towards her, unsure of how to help.

“You just have one guy left! That’s it, he’s all that’s between you and winning –”

“Yeah and it’s THAT guy!” Alya cried. 

She was right, the only one left to beat was the dude who had been targeting her all night. 

Nino’s heart sank further.

John and Antoine were shouting encouragements to her.

Alya was still trying to retreat in panic.

Nino could hear her controller shaking violently as the enemy player tried again and again to take her out with grenades, his tiny dot appearing and disappearing on the edge of Alya’s map as he chased her.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, OH NO!” 

Alya moved swiftly through the virtual world, leaping over railings and diving from ledge to ledge. Her hit points were shrinking with every explosion.

“Get out of there!” Nino cried, pulling at his hair with worry. “That’s a dead end! If you don’t get out fast, he’ll have you cornered!”

“Ugh! Enough of this!” Alya barked.

The next two seconds happened so fast, Nino could hardly process it.

Alya’s scrambling camera movements stopped dead. She whipped around to face the doorway she’d just run through and aimed her gun. The enemy’s dot bolted towards her, and as his player rounded the corner Nino saw another grenade flying through the air. 

Letting out a cry of rage, Alya began firing.

And then there was stillness.

Nino expected the Game Over page to flash over Alya’s side of the screen, but it never came. Instead, the large script displayed WINNER: BLUE TEAM.

“What just happened?” Alya said again, frozen in place.

Nino stared at the screen in disbelief. “I… I think you just… killed that guy.”

“I… I did… what?”

“I think you just… won?”

“I won?”

“You WON?!”

Their friends were shouting and cheering so loud Nino thought his eardrums would burst.

“I WON!” Alya’s arms shot up in victory as she screamed.

Nino burst out in hysterical laughter when – WHACK! Something small and very hard collided with his head, knocking him back to the ground, his glasses askew. Looking around, he found Alya’s controller lying next to him, and Alya herself staring at him with her hands over her mouth in shock.

In Alya’s excitement, she’d lost her grip on her controller, and had sent it flying into the air.

“Did you just –?”

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped, trying – and failing – not to laugh at the look on his face as he sat up again. “I didn’t mean to, I promise!”

Her apology didn’t quite come across as she giggled harder and harder, gasping for breath.

Nino sat there frozen as she doubled over, tears of mirth streaming down her face and fogging up her glasses. A familiar warmth spread through him and left tingles through his fingers.

‘I want to marry this girl.’

Getting back up on his knees, he lunged forward. 

Alya let out a yelp as he tackled her in a hug, both of them laughing as he held her tight.

“Proud of you,” he murmured into her warm, curly hair as John and Antoine’s shouts of celebration continued to ring through their headphones.

“Thanks,” she said softly, laying back on the ground and grinning at him. “I kinda kicked ass, didn’t I?”

“When do you not?” a voice said from the door.

Nino looked up to find Marinette and Adrien entering the apartment, carrying a few pizza boxes and a package that he recognized from the Dupain-Chang bakery.

“We ran into the delivery guy outside,” Adrien explained, bringing the boxes to the living room and setting them on the coffee table.

“You mean he just trusted you and let you take them?” Alya exclaimed, opening one of the boxes and grabbing a piece of pizza as Nino said goodbye to John and Antoine, signing off of the Live setting. “You could have been anyone!”

“Excuse you, I’m the most trustworthy person ever!” Marinette said indignantly, plopping down onto the couch beside Adrien and snatching up her own slice.

“Well, we know that but ‘Delivery Dude’ doesn’t,” Nino offered as Adrien laughed. 

Taking a closer look at the pastry box, Nino grinned. The top of it had been claimed by a cartoonish doodle of what Nino could only assume was Marinette’s parents waving happily. 

“A masterpiece by Tom, I’m guessing?”

Marinette chuckled, nodding. “They say hello.”

“Ah, I’m going to miss this,” Adrien sighed, leaning further into the cushions and putting his feet up on the table.

“Miss what?” Marinette asked through a mouthful of food.

“This,” he repeated, gesturing to the room at large. “Hanging out like this all the time.”

“What are you talking about, we’ll still hang out,” Alya frowned. “School isn’t the end of everything.”

“Yeah but be real, you guys are always slammed with work,” Nino chimed in. “You all really should have worked harder at getting famous immediately after high school like I did.”

Alya snorted.

“Eh, I gave the whole fame thing a shot,” Adrien said, waving his hand dismissively. “Wasn’t my speed.”

Marinette shot him a look of amusement.

“Speaking of getting famous,” Alya said, turning meaningfully to Nino. “Have you told them yet, babe?”

“Told us what?” Marinette asked, looking between the two of them.

“Well,” Nino took a deep breath, beaming. “I just got a call back today from that indie film company.”

“Whoa, what?” Adrien leaned forward excitedly. “Did you get it?”

“I got the job! I’m going to be doing the soundtrack for their next movie!”

“Nino! That’s amazing!” Marinette squealed.

Alya leaned into him and gave him a kiss on his cheek, leaving a warm tingling behind. He looked down at her, grinning and feeling wonderfully overwhelmed. He had been dreaming of working in film production for years, and now his ambitions were finally coming true.

“Thanks guys. I still can’t believe it. I mean this is just a small project, but it could still be my foot in the door to officially working in the film industry.”

“Don’t forget about us when you make it big, man,” Adrien teased.

“Nah, how could I forget the little people?” Nino said, making Marinette giggle. “Actually, are you guys free a couple weeks from now? The guys and I have a gig and it’d be great if you came.”

“For sure, man!” Adrien nodded, smiling. “That sounds fun!”

“Oh! By the way, thanks for the pics, Adrien,” Alya said, reaching forward and nudging Adrien’s foot. “Those were all totally gorgeous!”

Adrien grinned, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Thanks, Alya.”

“You’re going to be taking that photography class, right?”

“Yeah! I have my first class tomorrow morning.”

“That’ll be exciting,” Marinette said, smiling. “I can’t believe we’re already going back to it all tomorrow. It feels like this break has just flown by.”

“Right?” Alya nodded. “I mean this is my last semester of university! I can’t even wrap my mind around that!”

“I know, this will be my last year in my studio,” Marinette sighed. 

Nino sensed some disappointment in her voice.

“Isn’t Meesh supposed to be getting into town soon?” he asked, remembering her friend from class.

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “I think she got in earlier this week. I haven’t seen her yet, but I will tomorrow morning.”

“Tell her from me that we need to get together immediately!” Alya said, gathering up another slice of pizza as Nino began connecting the two additional controllers to the console.

They continued chatting while they played a few rounds of Crystalcore, using a much easier mode that allowed respawning. Alya enthusiastically described her earlier brush with virtual death, and Nino could tell that the win had definitely re-sparked her interest in the game. Marinette’s parents had provided a half-dozen chocolate croissants – Alya’s favorites – and between the four of them, it didn’t take long for the pizzas and pastries to disappear. As the night wound down, the girls decided to head home before it got too late.

“I don’t want to oversleep on my last first day of school, after all,” Marinette said, looking around for her sandals.

“Why not? Isn’t it kind of tradition at this point?” Nino teased.

Marinette threw one of the couch pillows at him while Adrien and Alya snickered.

Grinning, Nino pulled Alya into a kiss.

“Sure you don’t want to stay over tonight?” he asked, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I wish I could, but I have to pretend to be a responsible adult for a little bit and try to get a good night’s sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Aw, fine. But I’m claiming you on Friday for date night, whether your workload agrees or not.”

Alya grinned and nodded, pulling him in for one last kiss, and paying no attention to their friends who were having a whispered exchange near the door.

They bade their girls goodnight, Adrien calling “See you soon!” to Marinette before closing the door.

Nino was on the verge of asking if he wanted to do another round of gaming when Adrien let out a great yawn.

“Well, I think I’m going to turn in early too,” he said, heading in the direction of his room.

“Seriously?” Nino said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not even that late.”

“Yeah, but I mean I should probably get on an early schedule for school, you know how it is.”

“Really? The man who constantly stays at work till all hours of the night wants to get on an early schedule?” Nino smirked.

“Yes,” Adrien nodded seriously, leaning his head out of his bedroom door. “Yes, I do. It’s never too late to turn over a new leaf, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Nino said, snorting as the door closed.

Shaking his head and laughing softly, he plopped back down on the couch and reset his game to single-player mode, amused at how just how subtle his best friend clearly thought he could be.

*******

Ladybug paced the highest beam of her apartment’s rooftop, feeling calm and content as she listened to the city’s nightlife.

“I hope I didn’t keep M’lady waiting too long?” came a familiar voice from behind her, and she turned with a smile to greet Chat Noir as he padded softly towards her.

“Not too long at all. Alya wanted me to help her pick out a top for tomorrow, but I managed to get out of it quicker than usual by insisting I was dead tired. It helps that I’ve been working so much, because now there’s more truth to it,” she said, standing on her toes and reaching her arms up around his neck to pull him down into a kiss. 

He hummed against her mouth happily, and she broke off with a laugh as his involuntary purr rumbled through her. 

“I’m never gonna get over that, am I?”

“Honestly, I’m still not over it,” he said, “and I’ve had years to come to terms with it.”

He straightened up a little, his tail flicking behind him.

Ladybug grinned up at him, enjoying the lights that reflected in his glowing emerald eyes.

“Well, let’s get too it then, yeah? I wasn’t joking about getting to school early tomorrow.”

“Wait, seriously?” Chat let out a snort as they stepped closer to the edge of the roof.

“Hey, I can dream can’t I?” she said defensively, giving him a sidelong smirk. “Alright, last one to the top of la Tour Montparnasse pays for the next coffee date.”

“You’re on, Bugaboo,” he said, crouching low to the metal paneling. 

In a single motion, they both launched into the air, soaring high above the glittering landscape of Paris, their laughter echoing into the sky as an ocean of cold blue stars winked down at them.

Hello dear readers! I feel I should apologize. When I posted Ch 1, I didn’t intend for there to be a 2 month hiatus immediately following it. The last while has been… a rather difficult time for me and my family. Between traveling a lot, two deaths in the family, some traumatic car troubles, and straight up just feeling depressed and stagnant in life with a crummy job… The writing inspiration just hasn’t been visiting me much lately. Which is extra frustrating because I’m really excited about this story and really want to share it with you.

Anyways, I’m hoping to get Ch 3 out a little bit sooner, but with everything going on please forgive me if it takes me a while to get this whole fic out. Life happens, ya know?

To everyone who left me comments on Ch 1 and gave it likes and reblogs, THANK YOU!!! You make all this worthwhile! I adore you all! <3

[yeonchi]

Doctor Who Series 12 Review Part 7/10: Can You Hear Me?

Air date: 9 February 2020

This was a pretty deep episode if you ask me. Dreams and nightmares have been explored in Doctor Who over the years, but this is the first time that we have gone deeper into them and linked it to mental health. Apparently, this was why a BBC Action Line tag was included in the original UK broadcast of the episode.

My spoiler-free thought for this episode: “Who let Gen Urobuchi touch the script for this episode?”

As the BBC Action Line was mentioned, I guess I have the duty to recommend some support lines before I start the review. This page has a vast collection of mental health hotlines and websites from around the world.

Spoilers continue after the break.

Character development everywhere

This episode managed to develop Graham, Ryan and Yaz’s characters at the same time as we gain an insight into their fears and nightmares. Graham’s fear was his cancer coming back and Grace being disappointed in him (which likely manifested as a result of the guilt of not being able to save her). Ryan’s fear was not being able to see his friend, Tibo, during his lifetime and the Earth turning into what would be Orphan 55 (as shown with the Dregs in his nightmare). Yaz’s fear was a bit confusing for me to decipher, but it seems to be being left alone with no one to help her.

At the end of the episode, it becomes evident that this experience inspires them to do something that furthers their characters. Ryan encourages Tibo to seek support or therapy for his depression. Yaz is inspired to seek the policewoman (Anita Patel, I hate it when they name characters in the credits and they don’t say who they are in the episode) who inspired her three years ago when she ran away from home to answer her bet. Graham confides to the Doctor his worries about his cancer potentially coming back.

At the same time, we also get an insight into the Doctor’s fear (at this point in time), which is evidently that of the Timeless Child and everything she knew being a lie. The Doctor’s previously known fear was back during his eleventh incarnation, namely the cracks in time not being fully resolved as a result of them leaving “scar tissue” in the fabric of the universe.

Overlords or not?

Zellin and Rakaya (the other imprisoned immortal whose name was never spoken in the episode) reminded me of the Overlords of Kamen Rider Agito... until we saw that they were both evil. I was going to put the Doctor into the equation, but then I realised that she is nothing like the Overlord of Light.

Let me clarify. In Agito, the Overlords are twin entities who embodied light and darkness. They created the world, but neither of them could agree on who would reign and so, they fought. After losing to his ‘brother’, the Overlord of Light bestowed his essence on humanity in the form of Agito’s power in the hope that they would evolve beyond his control. The Overlord of Darkness, however, saw to eliminate any who possessed Agito’s power and would have the potential to evolve into him.

Zellin and Rakaya are immortals who entertained themselves with the fears and nightmares of humans, while also destroying planets for their own amusement. The Doctor admires humanity’s potential and encourages them to be the best they can be, giving them as little assistance as possible so they can progress with their own abilities. In a way, they are somewhat like the Overlords, but they are not entirely like them at the same time.

A theory I missed about Ruth

I just realised something about Episode 5 that I forgot to include, namely the theory that Ruth was a pre-Hartnell Doctor. Now, I am of the belief that the First Doctor, as first shown in 1963, is the first of all the Doctor’s incarnations and that any attempt to shoehorn Ruth in at any point in the Doctor’s past (as we know to be) will be proof that the SJW agenda is here to stay.

Apparently, I saw that people were using the Fourth Doctor story The Brain of Morbius as evidence that the Doctor has had incarnations before the First Doctor, as we knew it, and used it as a theory that Ruth could be a pre-Hartnell Doctor. This is shown during the mindbending sequence near the end of the fourth part, where we saw a face apparently belonging to Morbius, then the faces of the Doctor’s previous incarnations, then eight other faces taken from the production team of the time.

Assuming the eight other faces were the Doctor’s previous incarnations and the Doctor can only regenerate twelve times, here’s my theory. Ruth could be a “missing” incarnation in the eight, making the Fourth Doctor the last incarnation in this particular regeneration cycle. The Watcher merging with the Fourth Doctor in his regeneration story, Logopolis, could represent him gaining a new regeneration cycle, but between that and the Eleventh Doctor gaining another regeneration cycle, there are still four incarnations left unaccounted for.

Going by this article on the TARDIS Data Core, some classic-era material seemed to imply that Hartnell’s Doctor wasn’t the first, with even Philip Hinchcliffe, producer of The Brain of Morbius, saying that it was his intention to do so. However, at this point in time, there has been no attempt to confirm this fact, so my belief regarding the Doctor’s incarnations has not deviated from the mainstream view. People can say that those faces were randomly generated or that they originally belonged to Morbius and I’d be inclined to agree with them.

At this point in time, all the episode titles for Series 12 have been revealed. With the final episode of the series aptly being named “The Timeless Children”, I hope the issue of Ruth being the Doctor can be explained, hopefully with the appearance of the Master.

Other general thoughts

The exposition of the two planets was animated in cartoon form. What is this, Homestuck?

Is it just me, or did the Doctor manage to summon her sonic screwdriver into her hand while they were cuffed? I’m sorry, but that is a deus ex machina right there. Someone stated on Twitter that the cuffs were magnetised, but there has been no indication or explanation that that is the case.

According to this Radio Times article, some fans said that the Doctor was apparently dismissive of Graham’s concern regarding his cancer coming back, particularly this fan on Twitter, who lost his grandmother to cancer. Um, the Doctor literally said she was socially awkward and her fam has known her for so long that they should know it, given her alien nature. It’s not the first time the Doctor has struggled with being sensitive towards vulnerable people. If it’s any consolation, she stated that she would eventually think of something that she should have said. If she was actually being dismissive, she’d be more like the Twelfth Doctor during Series 8.

I know I’ve hardly ever mentioned Bowlestrek during the course of these reviews, but I can’t help but say this. I’ve seen some of his reviews of this series, out of curiosity, and while I still agree with his sentiment somewhat, I can’t help but feel that he’s become a shadow of what he was two years ago, during Series 11. Heck, I made rants on a very divisive aspect of anime and video game localisation for five years and it only took three years to make me realise that I’ve become a shadow of myself, and yet I still went on for two more years after that. But I digress; I still think The Oldest Nerd does more level-headed reviews. Tharries sums Bowlestrek up quite well here.

Summary and verdict

This was another thought-provoking episode. If you go on to read the next section, you’ll see how this episode inspired me to talk a little bit about the lowlights of my life.

The characters got decent character development and while we didn’t get any more progress in the Timeless Child arc, it’s good to be reminded that it exists and that it is one of the Doctor’s biggest fears.

Rating: 8/10

Being as personal as possible (without going into too much detail)

Before I go IRL, let me tell you about a fan of mine from years ago. When I first started the Koei Warriors Rant Series, there was a fan who followed me as I presented my research on English dubbing in video game localisation. This person was trans and they had split personalities - a boy one, a girl one, and a third one they claimed was an evil one. They were lucky to be one of the only fans I added on my personal Facebook as I was posting to Koei Tecmo’s page from there before I moved it to the Yeonchi page. Over the years, I saw stories of them writing about their depression and how their family treated them like shit. Near the end, I reported a post where they said they were going to commit suicide by taking a lot of pills - this was their second time if I remember correctly. I still have the screencap of that post. Some months later, they deactivated their Facebook account and I never heard from them again. I presumed they committed suicide given some of their posts, but I never thought about emailing them or anything until I had already started writing the review for this episode. I have no idea if she’ll reply eventually, but if she doesn’t, then I guess my intuition may have been correct all along. 

I was going through a random mood before and after I watched this episode. Before I watched it, my mind, for no reason, suddenly triggered my anger towards something I thought I’d forgiven years ago when I lowkey haven’t (which is why I elected to forget it in the hope that it’d be the same). After I watched it, I, for unrelated reasons, was “reminded” of a few people from high school (it’s a harmless habit that usually goes undetected by others that I’m also hoping to reduce) who I didn’t hang out with a lot, but they intrigued me in different ways. Like the Doctor admits, I have been socially awkward and am trying to overcome it little by little as I see old friends wherever I go (which frankly is a rarity for me), so I have different thoughts about them now than I did back then; I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand those current feelings back then.

One person was another socially awkward person like me, but she had managed to make a few friends in her locker area (she was special enough to have a locker with a few other special students in the year level above her instead of everyone else in our year level). Because of how “similar” our situations were, there were one or two times when our friends shipped us together (as a joke) and I was pissed at it because I never felt that way towards her. We did work together on a few pieces of schoolwork though. The real hitter for me regarding her was when I saw her contribution to an autism awareness project where she mentioned that she was homeschooled up until late into primary school and that she was bullied during the two years each in primary and high school. I was largely unaware that she had been bullied at all (though I did hear a story or two) and, for a great deal of the last decade, I was unaware that I had contributed to it indirectly by filming her on a couple of occasions during camp, screaming and crying at things normal people would have deemed harmless.

Another person was this girl I had this huge crush on during my entire time in high school. She was aware of it and she never loved me back, but the thing I hated about it was the fact that she didn’t tell me directly, in person or on Facebook; no, she was enough of a coward to have her cousin do it for her. Admittedly, while I did show a lot of animosity towards her, hatred even, my crush for her never subsided. If we were in an actual relationship, we’d be flip-flopping between being the abuser and the victim. At the time, I denied feeling this way because my anger and addictions to Dynasty Warriors, later tokusatsu, seemingly covered it up (I was very chuunibyou at the time and had fantasies of fighting her, wrong I know), but at this point, years after we graduated high school, I accepted that I did feel jealous of her, not just because she had a lot of friends and hung out with them all the time, but because she also hung out with a few boys and I was paranoid enough to think that they were in a relationship. I remember fictionalising all this as part of my personal project (that has a big connection with Doctor Who) ala Chris-chan with this girl and her friends as the villains. The main character (not the Doctor) of the project has a turbulent relationship with her - them being together represented my delusion of wanting to be with her, while them being apart and killing each other represented how she didn’t love me back and how I saw it as us hating each other. At this point, I’m planning on ending the personal project, so I put them back together and made them average characters just so I didn’t have to end the story with them killing each other.

The final person really pissed me off because of the way she acted towards the end of our friendship; she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. She was a cold and socially awkward person when we first met, but over time, she warmed up to social interaction and we eventually became friends. At the end of Year 10, she moved to a different school because her dad just up and signed the contract for their new home. We still stayed in contact for the next few years and caught up with each other, even. Our catchup outings were generally pleasant, but there was this one time where it left a sour taste in my mouth. We went out to watch San Andreas with another friend of ours. We parted with our friend after the movie ended (he was also socially awkward like me) and soon after that, she got pissed off at me for no damn reason, other than me being blunt in our Facebook chats (remember, I was socially awkward at the time as well, but I still tried my best to carry a conversation even if I wasn’t good at it). I had no idea why she suddenly decided to be a bitch to me at the time, aside from a suspicion that she was PMSing at the time. We made up after that, but our friendship continued to drift as time passed. We managed to get into the same university, but we weren’t able to catch up as much as we wanted to because we did different courses and had different timetables. By the time that ungrateful slut (and no, I won’t apologise for that, that’s my honest opinion) deleted me from Facebook, she had a boyfriend and was going out to clubs quite a bit; it was like she became the protagonist of 177013, only she didn’t get injected with drugs and become a megaslut.

Sometimes, I imagine how happy I could have been if things had been different. Sadly, I have to live with the consequences of my actions, intentional or not, for the rest of my life. Many people seem to think that depressed women are the only people we should show compassion to, but they also seem to forget that men like myself can get depressed as well. At the moment, I’m doing just fine; I have a goal I want to strive for and I don’t intend on giving up until I get it - or someone gets to it first.

Stay tuned next week as I review the eighth episode, The Haunting of Villa Diodati.