#loving the feud but how am I supposed to survive this???

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

I'M SORRY

WHAT

[izziessogay]

I really didn't like how arcane ended and I wasn't going to speak on it, but I have to get it out.

personally I relate to Vi, not only as a butch lesbian, but also as an older sister and as someone who is easily taken advantage of at the promise of comfort.

jinx's death shattered me, and trust me I am familiar with tragic character deaths, this is different. she stood for something. she stood for traumatized and mentally ill people, for survivors of abuse, people with bpd and so on, she was flawed throughout the show but she was not villified (imo). they showed her experience as a real human experience that deserves compassion. killing her reinforced the belief that suicide makes suicidal people happy, it doesn't. death isn't happy, nobody was relieved by this sacrifice, and you would know that if you have ever been in a place like that, known someone or even lost someone, because of this shit. my wife deeply related to jinx, the trauma she had, the things she was battling and all that still not making her irredeemably evil. this character is supposed to show that you can struggle and be alone and miserable and that you can get better despite that, that you deserve to get another go at life, no matter your flaws. arcane did that, up until the last act. my only sister is a teenager, who every day battles with things she gets minimal support for, I live far away and often feel helpless. jinx both represents my wife and my sister to me, the people I love most in this world. her ending feels like a huge fuck you, 'haha, you thought there was hope? actually struggling teens should just kill themselves semi heroically, because we don't want to deal with their antics'. even if they are hinting at her surviving none of this changes, they killed her socially still, when she was meant to be with her community, to build herself up again, to find her family (other people have said more eloquent things about all of this, check them out).

I have more issues with the finale, but over all I think that all the story lines needed more time.

I didn't quite get what happened with Mel and what the black rose even was, but I didn't care much about her character, so maybe I missed some things, I think she turned out the best in the end.

Ekko seemed to only have one purpose, which was to save. other than that he didn't get much character development. people are praising him for being the best, but I fear that might be because he's awfully underwritten and doesn't have much about him, other than him saving the main characters. Even his alternate universe escapade didn't give us an insight on him, more on Powder. His power wasn't explained well, especially when he broke the four second mark without any consequences it seems. in general I can't pick out many flaws, which indicates a poorly written character.

I didn't mind astrally insane Victor to be the enemy of all, however Jayce's and his story took up too much of the final act for me. they didn't seem that relevant to me to be the turning axis of everything and as someone who doesn't care much about their ship I didn't get much out of that arc. it felt out of character for a show that had been about systemic oppression and family feuds and classism to have a conclusion of "imperfection is actually beautiful". that seemed redundant, all characters in the show have flaws and redeeming qualities, even someone like silco or ambessa. everybody who likes the show knows "imperfection is beautiful", it didn't feel like a satisfying conclusion for the viewer, even if victor might have had to hear it. ON TOP OF THAT we never actually got explained anything regarding Victor and his descent to evil and how the fuck that happened.

In the end nothing seemed like it had changed, Piltover is still oppressive, the only reason why they work with Zaun now is because they fought a common enemy once. Sevika (my beloved) gets looked down on in the council and as the only Undercity-member it's impossible for her to overturn a vote in Zauns favour. Cait is still a cop, not having changed anything about herself, Vi has nobody besides her, no family. Mel seems unhappy, Ekko is definitely unhappy and in a worse spot than before. I frankly don't care what happened to Jayce and Viktor, but their ending is the only one that would keep me on my toes for more. Which brings me to a hot take, possibly: I think we might have been queerbaited, hear me out. We got lesbians (which I am eternally grateful for), but thes were a thing since early season 1, after season one people started talking about Jayvik, which wasn't supposed to happen originally, but since it brought engagement they made their relationship a bigger part of the story. Possibly also the reason why Vi and Caits relationship seemed rather rushed and inorganic at the end. you can disagree with me on this.

Lastly I have to talk about Vi, a character that I couldn't relate to for most of season two, because it's been a while since I had to deal with situationships and breakups. All that made me overlook what Vi really stands for. She might seem hard and tough, but mostly she is looking for comfort, she loses people close to her constantly and is therefore constantly in search of another safe space. A safe space that is never really provided. Cait doesn't understand her trauma, her upbringing, her culture or her family, and she never bothers to understand it. She never shows remorse to what she did in the undercity, she never questions Piltover (only ambessa, an outsider). She never sees Jinx as someone who deserves redemption, she never sees why Vi is struggling, she never makes an effort to care about her past and her experiences. You might wonder why Vi still is with her, but it's honestly obvious enough, it's because she doesn't have anyone else left. Cait at least loves her for her personality or her looks or whatever, and that's more than anybody else loves her. I hated that they put her back with Cait in Piltover, it seems very abusive to me, considering what we know of Cait (she might be different now, but we never get to see any of that, so I'm assuming freely). Vi will take anything and everything to make herself get some comfort, however toxic that behaviour may be. I see that as the reason why she folds so easily whenever Cait shows interest and forgives immediately. She didn't find well deserved peace in the end with Jinx (and Cait), she got "good enough for now". Nothing was addressed, nothing changed. AND JUST TO CLARIFY I AM HAPPY ABOUT THE LESBIAN REPRESENTATION AND I AM VERY GLAD WE GOT IT, OVERALL I THINK THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAS VERY INTERESTING TO WATCH. JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE SHOW I DIDN'T LIKE THE END.

For a show that was about the people, we got horrifyingly little people focused resolutions. The last burial we see was Rictus, but dozens of people die after him. We didn't talk about Isha, we didn't talk about Jinx, Ekko wasnt even allowed to get a word in after he deus ex machina saved everything. Sevika didn't get any conclusion. Mel seems on the same path as her mother. Jayce and Viktor are to my knowledge still astral projecting through space. Cait never learned compassion with Zaunites. Vander couldn't be saved. An unsatisfying end.

Tldr:

- Jinx's death was bad, mentally ill people should be saved and their illness shouldn't be glorified over them

- none of the story lines seem finished and rushed to an end

- Viktor and Jayce's story felt overpowering and took away from a story about oppression and sisterhood

- in the end nothing changed

- my butch dyke/older sister heart that can be manipulated quite easily too hurts for Vi

- I didn't like it 🍅🍅🍅

[legobiwan]

do you have any thoughts on powerups/how the bros use them?

You have no idea what you have just unleashed, anon. :D I am super into world-building and lore when it comes to Mario stuff, so here's a random list of ideas that may or may not bear fruit for anyone who reads this. (Also, part of this is me sketching out concepts for solus creatura, so I thank my followers in advance for their patience here).

The vegetable/fruit/foliage powerups are naturally occurring. The Mushroom Kingdom has the most fertile conditions for these plants to grow, although other kingdoms have done a decent enough job of genetically engineering their own powerup plants.

This makes the powerups an integral part of the Mushroom Kingdom economy, and one of the reasons they're able to survive so long without any real standing army or defense system outside of Mario and Luigi. It's also one of the reasons they get invaded so often.

The Darklands, centuries before Bowser's reign, used to also cultivate powerups. They were overfarmed by a corrupt agricultural council, however, and in combination with a once-in-a-lifetime drought, the vast majority of their land and crop was ruined.

Luckily for the Darklands, their native species is capable of fire and they still retain a strong tradition of magical culture through the Magikoopas (although this was briefly wiped out during Bowser's father's reign, as he thought the Magikoopas were planning a coup. They, in fact, were, but for good reasons).

Now, the Mushroom Kingdom is wary of magic, due their own history and complicated relationship with the Darklands (this may be in part linked to an old civil war that caused the split between the Mushroom Kingdom and the Darklands). Their species is also just not that magically adept (something having to do with Toad physiognomy?) The powerups are a decent compromise - they afford magic-like abilities without rendering their user permanently superpowered.

There was some contention in the royal court when Mario and Luigi first arrived in terms of allowing them access to the powerups. Ultimately, it was decided the safety of the kingdom would supersede any worries about abuse of power. (This being said, Peach had to argue long and hard for this).

Mario and Luigi receive a monthly allotment of powerups and if they find any "in the wild," they're supposed to record each instance. Neither brother bothers with this and every month they get a nasty letter from Porcina in accounting, which has led to a years-long feud between her and Mario. Luigi has learned the better way to circumvent the system is bribery by brownie. It usually, although not always, works.

The non-vegetative powerups are created in Mushroom Kingdom labs. Because the Mushroom Kingdom is like a Times Square Station for warp-pipe travel, the dimensional crossroads makes it easier to cross-pollinate powerups with characteristics of other species and lands (cats, penguins, etc.)

Back in the day, E. Gadd was involved with a lot of this research, but ultimately left to pursue his own interests in the paranormal. It's also rumored that he and the governing scientific committee at the time had a spat about the limits of experimental ethics.

When Mario and Luigi are first introduced to the powerups, they think this is the coolest thing in the world. They have powers, which was an impossibility back in New York.

It takes them a while to get the hang of using the powerups. Mario set fire to a Mushroom Kingdom stable one time. Luigi crash landed into someone's wedding as a kitsune. The citizens, by and large, were relatively forgiving of these incidents, although it did make for a wild few days in the press.

At first, Mario and Luigi both love the fireball ability. That is, until the events of Super Paper Mario, after which they go a solid few months without coming NEAR a fireflower. Mario can't help flashback to that terrible moment in Merlon's house while Luigi experiences the oddest phantom pains if he as much holds a fireflower, although he can't say why exactly. (Mario, of course, has no idea Luigi was boxed and bombed twice by Dimentio).

Luigi loves flying and may steal a few extra Tanooki leaves to go out and experiment with aeronautics/aviation concepts in the dead of the night. This, subconsciously, directly influences his Brobot designs in his time as Mr. L.

Mario's favorite powerup is the classic mushroom. Finally, he gets to be as tall or taller than his younger brother.

They both think the Invincibility Star is incredible until they're faced with a situation in which the invincibility wears off at a dangerous moment, which almost turned fatal for Mario. It's a sobering moment, and brothers learn the lesson that no one is invincible forever.

The Mushroom Kingdom allows Mario and Luigi to use the powerups under the assumption that the "magic," as it were, never lasts. What they don't know, however, is that Luigi has a strange penchant for magic, which is why on more than one occasion, the effects of the powerups take longer to wear off on him. (One day, Luigi shows up to meet his brother looking a little...furrier than usual. "You look hairy, bro," Mario says, furrowing his brow. "I'm Italian." Mario rolls his eyes at his brother's quip. "Not that Italian. What, did you forget to shave again?" Luigi just shrugs, not wanting to admit this isn't the first time he's woken up with more hair than he's used to).

They tease each other mercilessly when they are introduced to some of the animalistic powerups. Luigi puts a litter box in his brother's room and buys him a collar with the name tag, "Fluffy." Mario cooks Luigi fish for five days straight after the penguin incident. He also starts singing the "Walk Like a Penguin" jingle every time his brother comes into the room.

[stormy333]

Jealous Kitty?

Hey guys welcome to the blog!

           How many of you deal with older cats acting out because of bringing a new animal into the house? Or maybe your eldest cat doesn’t feel he’s getting enough of your attention and affection? Well I know from experience that it’s one not easy to have feuding animals and two not easy to work it out because they can’t talk to us and tell us what’s wrong with them. Similar to dealing with babies in a way, though I'm not a mother, I have watched and been around a few mothers and their babies. I mean think about it. Both babies and animals have no way to verbally express their problems using words. Thus, the actions they take.

          See this applies to all animals, not just cats. But my experience comes from cats my family has six cats and four dogs, (believe me I know it’s a lot). In case you’re wondering out of those six, four are my babies. Jazzy, Jonah, Skitzerlynn and Molly. All four have a very strong attachment to me, things can get a bit sticky so to speak with them all because everyone has a different sort of bond with me. So, with that said Jazzy is my eldest, he has little to no health problems that we are aware of at the moment, well what does that have to do with any of this you might ask? Well, Jonah was feral. I’m the one responsible for taming him and he also has quite a few problems revolving around his kidneys. Molly, her mom wasn’t the greatest and she was the only one to survive from her litter because the rest passed away due to respiratory problems well Molly was close to that when we brought her home. I took care of her and watched her like a hawk creating a similar bond, a strong bond. Then with Skitz well she kinda took up to me without me even trying anything, I was there and she needed someone to cling to I suppose so she just attached like a leech a very adorable leech. And in doing that it took time from my first and eldest causing jealousy, hurt, anger, confusion, and more. So, throughout the years I noticed Jazzy getting more and more aggressive and temperamental, so I did some soul searching and reading and found a book that has stuck with me sense I read it four years ago. The book Ain’t misbehavin’  by John C. Wright who is a certified animal behavioralist. That coupled with some blogs I started piecing things together, so here are some of the things I’ve dealt with from my cat and the ways I’ve sort of tamed the beast.

Things I’ve experienced:

-          Random attacks biting, scratching, etcetera

-          Growling and hissing

-          Aggressiveness towards cats that are typically best friends

-          Urinating outside the litterbox

It’s important to remember that they can’t tell us what’s bothering them using words, so they use what they know.

So, this might sound crazy but sit with your cat when you get a chance and like talk with them. No, they can’t be like “yeah this cat being around is bugging me” but I’ve found every cat is different they all have personalities and you must learn how to handle each one. And some cats tend to have multiple personalities at times (all of mine do). So, for example with Jonah when he’s acting out I talk to him. And with Jazzy talking to him doesn’t quite work so I distract him and give him something to take his anger out on. A toy. I use this old belt I have that has tassels on it (he loves it) and get him to chase and attack the toy rather than us. That way he gets attention and distraction.

The key is finding what works for your pet. And you’re not going to get it fixed right away it takes time. But also, by no means am I an expert so if the problem gets worse or continues you should definitely see your veterinarian.

[adam-banks2024]

Deja Vu

Part 1

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly

He’s insufferable

He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.

He is insufferable.

And I have to deal with him.

Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago. 

I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.

Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.

When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.

“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.

To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness. 

I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.

Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say. 

“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?

He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”

I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.

“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.” 

Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.

My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”

He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”

“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work

Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”

I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”

Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.

“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.

He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--” 

“That I’m not good enough…”

He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.

“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”

I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.” 

He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up. 

Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.

“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.

The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.

It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?

“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”

I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.

He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”

I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”

I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”

He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face. 

I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path. 

“What do I get out of it?”

The audacity.

“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”

So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”

He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Watch it.” His voice was stern.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”

Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”

[alj4890]

All Through The Night

A Choices: The Royal Romance Dark AU fanfiction. 

A/N Other than my few Bloodbound shorts, I’ve never written anything with supernatural overtones before. After receiving requests to see Liam and Riley’s story if he was a vampire, this storyline was born. Since it is set in one of my favorite books from Pixelberry, I had to include as many of the main and supporting characters as I could. The following chapters will explain more where they and what our main characters are. Not going to lie, I am very anxious to step out of my comfort zone for this, but I’m also super excited to see how it goes. Along with The Royal Romance, I will be referencing and altering both The Crown and The Flame and The Royal Masquerade.

@gkittylove99​​ @krsnlove​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @yourmajesty09​ @mom2000aggie​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @twinkleallnight​ @lodberg​ @twinkleallnight​ @amandablink​ @neotericthemis​  @mm2305​ @sfb123​ @iufilms​​ ​ ​

Masterlist

Prologue

Once upon a time...

"Father!" Zenobia rushed down the stairwell. "Kenna is at the gates!"

King Luthor's frown deepened as he studied the places his troops had been destroyed. His hope to unite the five kingdoms and wipe off the abomination was for naught.

Kenna would not stop until he and his surviving offspring's heads were on pikes.

...until their blood filled the crystal goblets of the Dark Queen.

"What do we do?" His son, Diavolos, asked.

Luthor knew it was only himself Kenna wanted. After he had killed her mother, hoping to stop the monsters once and for all, Kenna would have her revenge.

If only he had known that she was a vampire...just like her mother.

"Listen carefully." His voice trembled at this possibly being the last time he was able to speak to his son and daughter. "A Nevarkis must always be ready to fight the creatures that prey on the weak and vulnerable."

"But..." Zenobia sniffed. "How? How can we possibly kill the unkillable?"

"She can be killed just like her mother before her." Luthor snapped. "Sunlight. A dagger to the heart. Cutting the head off." His features hardened with resolve. "Know that those are our true allies. Continue your training with daggers. Never stop being vigilant. Educate your children. And remember: where there's one vampire, many more lie in wait in the shadows."

Diavolos stepped forward and gripped his father's shoulder. "We will fight for you."

"No." Luthor corrected. "Fight for our people. The innocent. Fight for a chance to live without fear of monsters."

He cleared his throat. "If I should die--"

"Don't say that!" Zenobia screeched. "We'll be--"

"Kenna is coming for me." Luthor interrupted. "I know I must face the consequences of my actions."

"But--" Divalos lowered his head. "What are we to do?"

"Kill her." Luthor ordered. "Let your emotion be your strength." He took their hands. "And remember that a vampire is nature's evil incarnate. They will do whatever they want and kill anyone who they think is in their way." His voice turned to pleading. "Kill Kenna before she has a chance to kill you."

Zenobia nodded in a jerky manner. Diavolos swallowed with tears in his eyes.

"Good. Now prepare yourselves." Luthor pulled his sword from its sheath. "The devil herself is here."

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

Two years later...

Kenna cuddled her infant son, humming a lullaby.

Dom came in, a soft smile gracing his lips at the sight of his family.

"How are we this evening?" He asked, placing a kiss first on her lips then one on his son's forehead.

"A little fussy." Kenna explained. "But otherwise perfect."

"Good." Dom stretched then went to stoke the fire. "I will be going out later tonight."

Kenna's head jerked up. "Why? Are there more rumors?"

He nodded, a determined frown formed on his lips. "The Nevarkis brats refuse to let us live in peace." He moved to stand before the window that looked out toward the kingdom he had once lived in.

High in the mountains, the couple and those like them had found sanctuary. They built a kingdom, one of darkness and shadow that allowed them to live freely. He and Kenna were crowned the rulers, chosen by their people...those that were cursed as monsters.

"Si and I will be standing guard." He explained. "I will not risk you or our child."

"Dom..." Kenna pulled him close, capturing his lips in a long tender kiss. "This must end. I was foolish to let my need for revenge take over." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Luthor might have left us alone if I had given him a chance."

Dom's face contorted into furious hatred. "A Nevarkis can never be trusted!" He gripped her waist, hands heating as he lost his temper. "He would have plunged a dagger into your heart the first chance he had."

"Dom." She said softly when he singed her clothes.

He wrenched his hands from her with a grimace. "I didn't burn you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She tried to lighten the mood. "Just a little overheated."

He took deep breaths to get himself under control. "Stay here where it is safe." His eyes searched hers. "Have you fed recently?"

"No, but I should be fine until you return." Kenna lifted a bottle with blood for their son. "I can call on one of the servants to help me if I need to."

"Promise me you won't go outside." He pleaded.

"Only if you promise to come back to me." She responded.

His lips quirked in that cocky smile she has always adored.

"Always, my queen." He kissed her once more, then slipped out the door to search out their enemies.

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

Present Day New York...

"Cordonia...land of both beauty and mystery." Riley wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

"No, it isn't." Hana argued. "I think that is the perfect beginning."

"Look at the comments from our last video." Riley swiveled her laptop so her friend could see. "People love our walkthroughs and all but hate my narration."

"Well..." Hana's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should try to add more to it than just narration." She pulled out some sketches. "We could add some animation of the history before showing our footage of the country."

"That might work." Riley mumbled, tapping her pen against her notebook.

The two set to work planning their next project.

After years of trying, they had finally achieved their dream of traveling for a living. The two college friends had taken every class they could on how to make their hopes into a reality. With Riley's love of history and business and Hana's talent with art and fashion, the pair had created a successful travel channel that showcased rarely visited countries and cities around the world.

Hana took care of all the shopping and dining found at their chosen destinations. Her "day trips" were hailed as must see for anyone planning a vacation. Riley took over for what could be found at night. Myths and legends blended in with what could be discovered once the sun set. A place's nightlife was thoroughly researched and reached a wide variety of their audience, causing many to plan a vacation just on her recommendations alone.

"Did your mom suggest where we should go first?" Riley asked, after skimming the same few articles about the elusive country.

"Not really." Hana hedged.

Riley glanced up. "Is she giving you a hard time again?"

"Yes." Hana slumped in her chair. "She told me to call when I was done playing tour guide."

"Geez." Riley grumbled. "Does she not realize that we have created a legit business?"

"Ladies shouldn't be involved in anything that does not pertain to their husband and family." Hana quoted. "I was supposed to have my debut to Cordonian society last year." Angry tears filled her eyes. "She still hasn't forgiven me for missing out on the Masquerade Ball."

Riley wrapped her in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry."

Hana patted her back. "Don't be. I finally feel like I can accomplish anything."

"That's because you can." Riley sat back with a grin. "Especially with planning out what we should focus on first."

Hana giggled as she went to search out some of her old books she had inherited from her grandparents. "These might help you with your part."

Riley's eyebrows lifted over the titles. "The Crown, the Flame, and The Night Queen."

"That is the earliest recorded story of vampires and monsters in Cordonia." Hana explained. "Queen Kenna Rhys and King Luthor Nevarkis both fought over uniting the kingdoms that make up Cordonia." She shook her head in disbelief. "There is a legend that Queen Kenna was a vampire that married a man who could transform into a dragon."

"For real?" Riley eagerly opened the book. "What happened?"

"Luthor died." Hana reached for another history book. "Some say it was a sword fight while others say she ripped his throat out with her fangs."

"Whoa. Either way, she sounds pretty epic."

"His son got revenge though." Hana flipped to another chapter. "He sneaked in one day and supposedly dragged Kenna into the sunlight. Before her husband could save her, she burned to ash."

"Brutal." Riley shivered. "What did the dragon do?"

Hana shrugged. "Supposedly he left with their child to protect him." She pointed at some drawings rendered from the Dark Ages. "Kenna's son came back to extract revenge. He eliminated one entire side of the Nevarkis family tree."

"And let me guess," Riley picked up another book. "The remaining Nevarkis's struck back?"

"It's supposedly been a feud for centuries between the Nevarkis and the Rhys' families." Hana pulled up an image on her phone. "Though one is currently ruling Cordonia."

Riley studied the image. "Queen Olivia Nevarkis. Looks like the Rhys lost the throne."

Hana shrugged. "There's a myth that they still rule Cordonia from the shadows."

"Mythical royal vampires, huh?" Riley laughed at the thought. "I hope I bump into one just so I can figure out who's really in charge."

Hana giggled at the thought. "You would be the only person to ask a logical, government question instead of the usual, whoa you're a real live vampire!"

Riley threw a pillow at her. "Hey! I can be calm and collected when faced with the unknown."

Hana threw the pillow back. "Tell that to the supposed haunted house we visited on our last trip." She broke out into laughter with Riley's defense that squeaking doors were the true villains. "On that note, I'm going to start packing. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning."

"I'll be ready." Riley promised.

Once alone, she flipped to a more current timeline of the supposed Dark Kingdom.

King Constantine Rhys the Third rules over what is his rightful kingdom. Rumors swirl that he is simply biding his time until he can eliminate the usurper, Queen Olivia Nevarkis, First of Her Name. The people know that one day, a Rhys will sit upon the throne, uniting the Dark Kingdom and Cordonia once and for all.

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

Cordonia's Royal Palace, 2 a.m.

"Heeeerah! Olivia threw her daggers as hard as she could while doing a roundhouse kick.

The blades struck into the chest, head, and groin of the makeshift dummy.

She brushed the few strands of red hair that had escaped her hair clip out of her eyes. With a great deal of scrutiny, she studied her dagger placement.

"The one to the head needs to go deeper."

She spun around with a start at that all too familiar voice.

"You're late." She folded her arms and tapped her foot.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. Had to stop off for a quick bite."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Not that kind of bite." He teased, holding up a styrofoam box.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise. "I forget that you enjoy normal food too."

He chuckled at that. "There are certain foods that I don't think any man could ever give up."

Olivia decided to ignore that as she wiped the sweat from her face and neck. "Now that you're here, let's get the formalities over with."

"Very well." Liam gestured toward her. "You may go first."

She sat down on a bench lining one side of the palace gym. She motioned for him to join her.

"Not you!" She hissed when she saw his all too familiar guard.

Drake Walker bristled at her tone. His brown eyes clashed with her green.

"Give us a moment, please." Liam asked him.

"Don't let your guard down." Drake warned. "Remember, she's a Nevarkis."

Olivia tensed. "Perhaps you should remember what happened the last time you said something like that."

She quirked one eyebrow at the man and felt a sense of glee when he winced in memory.

His hand automatically drifted to his side where one of her daggers had once struck true.

With a quick bow to Liam, Drake stepped back out into the hallway.

Liam shook his head. "Are you two ever going to get along?"

"Stop talking stupid." Olivia snapped. "Now then, as you know...I must have my revenge."

"I know." Liam folded his arms and leaned casually against a column.

She eyed him for any sign of hatred.

It drove her crazy how unvampiric he could be.

He seemed almost human.

He seemed...kind.

A vampire is nature's evil incarnate. You can never trust a Rhys.

Those words had been drummed into her skull by her parents and then her aunt after their deaths by Constantine's hand.

And yet...Liam had done the unthinkable.

He had actually been a friend to Olivia.

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

The night after her parents' funeral, five year old Olivia had been sitting alone before the fireplace, weeping over them.

Her aunt had left her to deal with her own grief and to plan the next attack upon Constantine.

As she searched for a tissue, Olivia jumped back with a shriek at the little blonde haired boy that held the Kleenex box.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears as he handed her a tissue.

"Who are you?" She asked, remembering that a Nevarkis must always be brave.

"I'm Liam." He explained. "I wanted to...I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your parents." He sniffed and took a tissue for himself. "My mom died too."

Olivia blinked and took a cautious step forward. "Are you...are you a vampire?!"

He nodded.

She whipped out the dagger her mother had given her and rushed at him.

Liam moved faster than she could comprehend, gently keeping her hand above her head.

"Let go of me, monster!" She ordered. "You're why I'm all alone!"

"I didn't do anything." He told her, anguish taking over his handsome features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone."

"Liar!" She snapped. "That's what you do. Lie and kill." Her tears ran faster down her cheeks. "And now you'll kill me."

"I won't." He promised. "I swear I won't hurt you." He ignored his own tears trickling down his cheeks. His blue eyes burned with resolve. "My mother made me promise never to hurt a human."

Olivia shook her head. It had to be lies. Isn't that what vampires and monsters do? Lull you into letting your guard down so that they could have an easy kill.

"Your father will pay for what he did." She said, hoping to see his true, evil nature. "He must die!"

"I know." Liam slowly released her and took a step back.

Olivia watched in surprise as he sat down before her fireplace and pulled out a silk blue ribbon from his pocket.

He motioned for her to join him.

She slowly lowered herself down, dagger poised in her little fist in case he made a move.

"May I have your hand, please?" He asked.

He patiently waited on her to decide whether or not to give it to him.

She tentatively placed her hand in his.

His lips turned up into a relieved smile as he wrapped the ribbon over their joined hands.

"What are you doing?" She asked, lowering her dagger.

"Making a bond." He explained. "I, Liam Rhys, Crown Prince of the Dark Kingdom, promise to never seek out revenge and to end all vendettas against the Nevarkis family." His blue eyes held her green. "Just as my mother, Queen Eleanor wanted me to."

Oliva's lips parted. "You mean it?"

"I do." Liam's voice held a great deal of sincerity. "I would rather walk into the sun than not do as she asked."

"Oh." Olivia sniffed. She could understand that kind of devotion.

"Do you," Liam's cheeks colored. "Do you think we can be allies?"

"A Nevarkis will never be friends with a monster." She repeated the rhetoric that she knew by heart.

"But," Liam's shoulders slumped. "We're not all bad."

"All monsters are bad at heart."

"I'm not." He pouted. "I don't want to be."

"You're so weird." She muttered.

"Am not." Liam grumbled. "I hope I'm not."

Olivia looked down at their hands still bound together. "I guess since you promised something, I should too."

He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I, Olivia Nevarkis, The Crown Princess of Cordonia, swear that after I kill Constantine Rhys, I will lay down my weapons." Her brow furrowed. "I'll pick them back up though if you or any other monster tries anything."

Liam's smile grew. Before she could react, he tugged her into a quick hug.

"Now we can be friends!" He cheered.

"Friends?" She shook her head. "I'm a Nevarkis and you're a Rhys. We can't be friends."

"We will be." He vowed, jumping to his feet. "I have to go before Father finds out I've sneaked out. I'll try to come back in a few nights."

Olivia didn't have a chance to tell him whether or not she wanted him to. In the blink of an eye, he had jumped from her balcony and was already out the palace gates.

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

That had been the beginning of Liam's visits. Through the years, he had remained true to his promise. He did all he could to befriend her and never tried to sway her from seeking vengeance.

Olivia had once asked him how he could take her threat against his father so easily.

He had merely shrugged, explaining that he knew it was the way of things. His father had killed both her parents, while he had only lost one. He hoped she didn't since he did not wish to see his father or her dead.

Olivia had then told him again how weird he was, bringing another smile to his lips.

And now here he was again, calmly taking her promised vengeance well.

"So what business brings you here tonight?" She asked.

"Father thinks it is time I chose a wife." Liam responded. "I thought you should know that I will be spending more time in your kingdom to find one."

Olivia shot up off the bench. "What? But you promised to never hurt a human!"

"And I will keep true to that." He explained.

"But..." Olivia's brow furrowed. "You'll turn her into a vampire."

"Only if she wishes it." Liam explained. "I won't force her to make such a decision."

"I see." She began to pace while thinking. "You'll have vampire children."

"Only if she's a vampire." He reminded her. "Remember my brother."

Olivia paused. She had forgotten about Leo Rhys, The Great Disappointment of the Dark Kingdom. His mother had begged Constantine not to turn her. It had never been asked before, and in his mercy he had agreed. That was when they all discovered that a monster and a human could only produce a human child. In order for the heir to the Dark Kingdom to be a vampire, both parents had to be the same being.

"And you'll be fine having human children?" She asked. "If you're chosen bride refuses the Vampire's Kiss?"

"Of course." He responded.

"Lord, you're so weird." She muttered.

His smirk flashed. "Let's hope the woman I choose doesn't think so."

"Are there no women in your kingdom you can choose from?" She asked.

"I've looked." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but if one doesn't have an arranged marriage, then we must search until we see the one meant for us."

"And you somehow got weirder." She brushed her hands down her pants and held one out to him. "Good luck, I suppose."

"Thank you." He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my progress."

"There's no need."

"Of course there is." He winked at her on his way out. "We're friends."

Her lips parted to once again remind him that they couldn't be. For some reason, she decided not to say it.

Liam had somehow wormed his way into her life and had become the closest friend she had ever had.

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

The Lee Residence, Shanghai, China...

Lorelei paled as she reread the report. 

It can’t be. Not Now!

Of all the times for this to happen, it would be when her stubborn, foolish daughter decided to visit. 

Given the nature of her relationship with Hana, she knew that there was no way she could convince her to postpone her trip to Cordonia. 

There was only one course of action left to take. She would have to call the one man who was capable of protecting her daughter. She would promise hiim anything as long as he kept Hana out of Liam’s clutches. As much as wanted her to give up this ridiculous hobby she called a job and settled down with the right sort of man, she would never put her in the path of becoming the next vampire queen. 

Setting down the packet of information from one of her informants, she checked to make certain no servant was out in the hallway and then searched for the needed phone number.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the call.

Her trepidation grew when he didn’t immediately answer.

"Hello."

"Lord Beaumont?" 

"Yes." She could hear a door closing in the background. "Who is this?"

"Lorelei Lee." She replied.

"Lady Lorelei." He responded with a recognition. "How can I help you?"

"My daughter and her friend have got it in their heads to come visit Cordonia." She began. "I'm not certain how long they intend to stay, but I was hoping that I could retain your services."

"For what exactly?" Lord Beaumont asked.

"Protection." She replied. "I have heard through certain channels that the dark prince is beginning to search for a bride." She took a deep breath. "We do NOT want our daughter anywhere near that vile creature."

"I understand." He replied. "I usually don't do personal security. With my brother, Bertrand, retired," he hesitated, "it is left up to me to help protect Cordonia's borders."

"My husband and I would be in your debt if you could watch over her in the evenings." Lorelei cajoled. "I've heard that your brother is planning on extending his vineyards. We would be more than happy to invest in the production and distribution of his sparkling wine. Perhaps even let it be the only sparkling wine we serve in our hotels."

"Send me her information and picture. Call her and tell her that since our family is an old friend of yours, that I've volunteered to show them around. Find out where she's staying and when she plans on arriving."

"Oh thank you, my lord. We--"

"I'll also need a contract prepared and signed for all that you offered." He added.

"Yes of course. I'll get everything to you at once." She promised.

Once he ended the call, she sank back down onto her chair. 

She bowed her head and began to pray that her daughter came to no harm these next few weeks. To lose Hana to one of the many creatures that roamed the night in Cordonia was too horrible to even contemplate.

If anyone could keep her daughter safe then it was none other than Lord Maxwell Beaumont.

[shealwaysreads]

the plant that doesn’t bloom

A fic for @fae-vorite and the stunning art and concept she shared with us all! I hope you like this, darling! ❤️

Drarry | 2k | 8th Year, EWE, cursed!draco, when a curse is not a curse

Summary: Apologies, and homecoming, and forgiveness tucked into the petals of a rose.

Read it on Ao3

...

Malfoy had come back to Hogwarts different.

The war had tempered him. His trial had quenched the fire in his eyes. Rebuilding Hogwarts had smoothed the rough edges of his ego, his trauma, his regret.

They had all had a week off, before term began in September, after toiling under the summer sun to restore their school. Big magic and small. Levitating fresh stones to rebuild towers, spinning panes of glass out of sand from the shore of the Black Lake, learning how to cast spells without the fear of the Carrows.

Malfoy hadn’t spoken at first, not to anyone. Harry wondered if he’d been cursed mute, for a while, until he heard him approach Hermione with a grave face and a quiet voice.

“May I have a moment of your time, Granger?”

That was the first of many approaches he made over July and August. Harry watched him step towards them all; Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna, and students Harry didn’t even know. Always serious, always respectful, always quiet. He spoke to almost everyone, even the teachers. But not to Harry. Not until the final day of their summer labours.

“Potter. May I—can we talk?”

Harry looked around at his friends—they wouldn’t judge him if he said no to Malfoy. Ron had told him that Malfoy had apologised to him when they spoke, had admitted familial responsibility for the generations old feud between their families, even offered restitution. Ron had accepted the end of the feud, but rebuffed any payment. He’d said Malfoy seemed to have grown a backbone, and a conscience. Ron thought he was still ‘a posh twat’, but that maybe, maybe Malfoy wasn’t as bad under it all than they had thought. Maybe even Malfoy had learned a thing or two about right and wrong, in the end.

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Malfoy would say to him, wasn’t sure what kind of apology he would receive, wasn’t even sure he had the strength to lose the stability of hating Malfoy.

(But he hadn’t hated him. Not since Sectumsempra. Not since the Astronomy tower. Not since ‘I can’t be sure’. He’d pitied him, despised his misplaced loyalty to his parents, wondered how he survived—but not hated. Harry wasn’t sure he was made for hate.)

“Alright, Malfoy. Have at it.”

Malfoy led him to the shade of the big oak tree, away from the rest of the group, near the shore of the lake. He looked anxious, clenching his jaw and fussing at the cuff of his robes.

“Potter, I would like to formally apologise for… Well. For everything, I suppose. For my own actions, for my father’s too. From our first meeting I have been an example of everything I now understand to be rotten at the heart of my family, and—”

Harry interrupted him. “I don’t want an apology from your father or your family, Malfoy. You can only really speak for yourself.”

Malfoy swallowed, hard. “I am sorry. If I had ‘just’ been a bully that would be bad enough, but I wasn’t that. I was cruel to you and your friends, and then dangerous and violent too. I could blame it on my upbringing, the prejudice I was raised to believe, but—” he lifted his chin, steeling himself for something. “But it started because I was jealous and angry, and that’s inexcusable. So. I apologise.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, he didn’t think he was ready to digest it, really. What do you say when someone apologises to you, but you don’t want to forgive them?

“Thanks. For saying sorry.” That would do, wouldn’t it?

But Malfoy didn’t walk away, or anything helpful like that. He reached into his robes instead, and pulled out a tiny silver box, engraved with delicate curlicues that glinted in the late summer sun.

“This is for you. It’s not a gift, you understand. It’s yours by right.” He held it out to Harry, and for want of a better option, Harry took it. “My mother...took things from the Black household when she was younger. For her own use. But these were Sirius Black’s diaries, and I understand she never managed to read them. Anhaga boxes are infamous for their loyalty to their owner.”

It was like a punch to the gut. This tiny box, no bigger than his palm, held Sirius’ secrets, his life recorded in his own words.

“If she couldn’t—how can I?”

“Blood, I imagine. That kind of privacy is pricey. But you’re his godson. That’s family, more than any relation he had to my mother. It will work.”

And with that, Malfoy turned and walked away, leaving Harry in the dappled shade with a handful of Sirius’ precious thoughts.

Malfoy had been right. A drop of blood was all it took to enlarge the Anhaga box, and to open it. Out spilled parchment, notebooks, letters, folded posters and flyers, and dogeared photographs. Most of it was in Sirius’ own scratchy handwriting, but some of the letters were in James’ scrawl. Harry’s dad had written them to Sirius. Moments of youthful joy and intimacy, secrets and mundanities, quotes and song lyrics, newly discovered spells, and stories of flings and firsts, shared between best friends. Brothers by choice.

Harry had wept, and read, and laughed, and read, and for the first time in his life he knew what his father thought about Quidditch teams, and Bowie, and how no hair potions worked on him either (much to Sirius’ delight), and that he had adored Harry’s mother—adored her, had written long paragraphs doubting his worthiness of her time, of his hope she might smile at him, that she might want him back, one day, no doubt seeking the reassurance and commiseration from Sirius.

It hurt, but he read them all. It hurt, but it was a gift. It hurt, but Harry touched each piece of paper like a talisman, like a blessing.

The first of September was bitter-sweet, but alongside the taste of loss, Harry was excited for his last year at Hogwarts. Returning to his first real home, with his first—and best—friends by his side. No doom lay ahead of him, no danger. Just homework, and exams, and treacle tart.

And Harry had never dreamed of much, not much more than space and light and safety and people who loved him, but he had found them all when he walked through the great oak doors of Hogwarts, and not even a war—not even dying—had taken them away.

They might be adults now, grasping onto the fading threads of childhood before they launched themselves into the unknown, but Harry thought they’d earned this. A year’s respite from the world. A warm interlude to relax, to lick their wounds, to dance in the stark joy of life, to take back that stolen year.

The Welcome Feast was stupendous, and Harry’s face hurt from grinning so widely when Professor McGonagall stood to give her first speech as Hogwarts Headmistress. Seamus blew up a goblet of spiked Pumpkin juice, Ginny snogged Dean, and Harry was flanked by Ron and Hermione—warm, and full, and content.

He was even happy the next morning, waking up to cold flagstones and a shared bathroom, Ron’s monosyllabic pre-breakfast grunts, and Neville’s rather excitable Flaming Geranium (he was pretty sure the House Elves could fix the curtains around his bed.) He was happy striding through the halls down to breakfast, head and shoulders above the tiny little first years who were more interested in finding their way to class than looking at his forehead. He was happy until he heard the whispers about Malfoy, and glanced reflexively across the room to the Slytherin table.

Malfoy was different. Still pale, still silver-eyed. But his skin was marred by dark twisting shapes, writhing against his skin. Cursed were the whispers. But Harry had never seen a curse like this. So he watched.

“Harry, don’t you think—oh, never mind.” Hermione broke off, sighed, and turned to talk to Parvati.

His first lesson was Potions—he wasn’t sure he wanted to be an Auror, but he wanted the option so he was back in Slughorn’s class—it was an eighth year only class with all of the houses mixed, so of course Malfoy was there too. He sat with Terry Boot, and seemed to work well enough with him. Harry followed him to the supply cupboard when he went to fetch ingredients, and took the opportunity to look closer at the strange marks on his skin. They were briars, curling around his wrists, his hands, trailing up his throat, to the line of his jaw. Green-black and thorny, they seemed to move with him, breathe with him, even as the points of their barbs pressed against pale skin.

“New tattoos?” He asked. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Malfoy’s apology, of his quietude, of the tumult of confused emotion that stirred in Harry’s chest whenever he was confronted with him. The feelings that boiled inside him, worse than ever, after he gave Harry Sirius’s papers.

Malfoy sighed. Clearly Harry wasn’t the first to ask. “No, Potter, not a tattoo.”

“A curse, then?”

“Of a sort, yes.” He reached past Harry’s face to take a jar of lacewing fly. “You can have these when I’ve taken a couple.”

And then he was gone, leaving Harry confused and lacewing-less in an empty cupboard.

At lunch, Harry squeezed in beside Hermione and her towering pile of books, the question spilling out before he gave it conscious thought.

“Have you seen the things on Malfoy? They look like—”

“Harry, really? It’s been one day.” She was laughing as she cut him off, though, and so was Ron next to her, even though he pretended to be very interested in his plate. “Look, before we start this, are you suspicious of him, or are you just curious?”

He paused, his sandwich halfway to his mouth, and thought for a moment. “I think I’m just curious.”

She sighed, but smiled as she answered him. “Well, okay then. I think it’s a Motus Charm.”

“Not a—“

“No, not a curse. Though, functionally, I suppose…”

She trailed off, and Harry could sense an incoming debate about the differences between spell classifications and the intention of the caster (all eighth years had been enrolled on a new course in magical ethics, and the debate across the first class that morning had already been fiery) so he interrupted her before she could get on a roll. “Hermione, what does it do?”

“Well, it creates markings on a person’s skin that give an insight into their emotional state. It gives movement to what moves them.”

“So...those thorns are how Malfoy feels?” Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. About Malfoy feeling, well, restricted by vines, pressed against by thorns. As far as metaphors went, it didn’t look good. Worse still, Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about the world getting to see it all. It was bad enough when the papers made up nonsense about how Harry was ‘coping emotionally’ post-war—he couldn’t imagine the agony of them actually knowing for sure.  

“It appears that way. I just wonder who cast it on him, he didn’t have them during the summer, and apparently he had them at the welcome feast—so it wasn’t done by a student.” Hermione was frowning, the same crease between her brows when she didn’t agree with something. She hadn’t said much about what Malfoy talked to her about when he apologised, just that he was ‘thorough and straightforward’. Since then she’d not been friendly toward him, but she’d certainly been civil. Apparently he’d made enough of an impact on her that she disapproved of him being cursed—or charmed—like this.  

“Can it be cured?”

“According to Flitwick, it fades naturally, once the witch or wizard under the charm begins to actually talk about their feelings. Or, at least, begins to feel understood. So, it depends, I suppose.”

Harry looked over at Malfoy, he was flipping through a book, sipping tea, and studiously ignoring the stares he was receiving from half the student body. The briars were slow moving, more settled than when Harry had spoken to him during their Potions class. Maybe that meant he was calmer. Maybe that meant that Harry stressed him out.

But as he stood and left the Slytherin table, those coils of dark vines and thorns writhed again across his pale skin. Harry was up and out of his seat, following him into the corridor beyond, without a second thought. Behind him, Harry could hear Ron muttering something to Hermione about ‘feelings’ and ‘curiosity’, but he didn’t have time to stop and question it. Not when Malfoy was already ahead of him, and Harry wanted to catch him before the press of the rest of the school filled the halls.

“Malfoy! Wait!”

And Malfoy did wait, which was weird enough that Harry almost did an about turn and scurried back to the Gryffindor table. He stopped and turned as Harry jogged up to him, and he looked calm and collected—his face impassive and carefully blank—but the barbed stems that licked up to his jaw, and curled over his knuckles, were black and razor-sharp.

“I wanted—” What had Harry wanted? To ask, to interrogate, to find out who, and when, and why? But looking at Malfoy now, and the discomfort written on his skin for all to see, Harry suddenly felt disinclined to ask him to expose himself further. So, no questions. For now. “I wanted to say thanks. For Sirius’ things. It was—I really—You didn't have to.”    

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but the thorns at his throat seemed to lose their keen edge. “No, I suppose I didn’t. But you’re welcome. I’m glad it opened for you.”

“And about your apology,” Harry continued, eyeing the litmus-test of foliage on Malfoy’s skin. “I wasn’t sure how I felt, in the summer, when you said sorry.”

“It’s okay Potter, I know I don’t have any right to—”

He broke off, silent and staring as Harry stepped forward and held out his hand, and for long moments Harry wondered if he might not take it. If this time, it would be Malfoy leaving Harry with his offer of connection hanging, rejected, between them. But then Malfoy reached out his own arm and took Harry’s hand in his, and it was pale and wand-calloused, and his fingers were slimmer than Harry’s, but his grip was firm and steady, and warm.

“Apology accepted, Malfoy. I reckon even we might deserve a fresh start this year, don’t you?”

Malfoy didn’t speak; but before Harry’s eyes, those dark vines slowed, ripened into a spring green, and flowers bloomed on Malfoy’s skin. Pale roses unfurled, soft and  blushing  at their centre. One curved around the back of Malfoy’s hand, where Harry still held firm, and another blossomed at the spot where his collar was loose at his throat.

Maybe Harry didn’t need Malfoy’s words. Words had always been hard for them. For now, maybe he could learn to understand him through thorns and petals.

❤️ to @tackytigerfic for the always-excellent beta read, and @slytherco for the cheer-reading!

[inkandpen22]

Time is Irrelevant (3/?): The Beauty of a Perfect Rose

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Female!Reader 

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 3k 

Part Summary: Y/N finds herself alone amongst the French Court and she’s panicking. Then, she meets a charming young gentleman who becomes quite fond by her. 

Masterlist

The Doctor ran off who-knows-where, so I decided to go on my own little adventure outside for some air. In truth, it’s hotter than the Sahara inside and I was feeling claustrophobic. A major flaw of mine, it doesn’t take much to get me to feel claustrophobic. Large crowds, small cars, closets, elevators, I can’t stand to be in any of them.

I take a breather on the grand terrace that overlooks the massive estate. Everything is so immaculate here. I’m amazed when I stare up at the night sky, in the future stars are too faint to see with all the lights. In 1778, the sky is lit up like a Christmas tree. Hundreds of bright tiny lights scatter the sky and they’re indescribably beautiful. The people who live in this time must take them for granted, unaware of their ancestors won’t have the pleasure of seeing them each night.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves… ”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man appear beside me. He admires the starry night.

“You know Shakespeare, impressive," I compliment without thinking.

I swallow hard, I don't know French, at least not well. If we're counting a high school education, I'm an amateur. Wait, how could I understand him? How can he understand me? I spoke in English.

The man chuckles lightly, “what is more impressive is you could identify the words as Shakespeare, shows you know him well.”

I sway my head from side to side. “I suppose you could say I know a lot about English literature.”

“Do you visit England often?”

Aware of the everlasting feud amongst the nations, I deny the chance. Better safe than sorry, right? Especially since there's the American Revolution happening this moment and I’m meant to be a French lady of a higher social status. I must be loyal to France whole-heartedly.

“Not as much as I used to when I was a child. I simply enjoy the art and literature the English produce among other foreign creators," I answer rather diplomatically.

The gentleman snickers lightly, seemingly impressed by my reply. “I take it you travel often? You appear well-aware and educated on world matters.”

I suppress my laughter, the irony doesn't go over my head. I've traveled further in the last twenty-four hours than I have my whole life.

“Yes, traveling is one of my many passions!" I enthuse. "Experiencing other cultures of the world is fascinating to me and I almost need traveling to survive I feel.”

The stranger nods in agreement, “France is home but when there’s an entire world to be discovered, I never feel content settling here when I could be out there. Especially now with the new world across the sea. One day I wish to see them for myself.”

I turn to the gentleman and without a second thought, I encourage him to do so. I may be giving him the chance to survive the French Revolution.

“I’ve heard they’re incredible! Of course, I suggest you plan a visit for the colonies after the war.”

He meets my eyes with a smile. He's young, just a few years older than me maybe. “Definitely, speaking of, what is your opinion on the war between the so-called “patriots” and England?”

In my mind, I’m thinking the revolution was the best thing to happen to the world. America exists because of the revolution and my era wouldn’t be the same without it. However, this is 1778 and I’m supposed to be a French aristocratic woman, so my answer can’t be so blunt.

“My belief is our alliance with the colonists was a wise political move. Economically, the alliance with benefit us greatly, and by being allies we’re hitting England directly where they’ll feel the effects. In addition, the war is not on our land, so the people of France ultimately go untouched. It’s the perfect situation.”

The man smiles brightly, "You know Madame are-"

"You're Majesty," a man interrupts us. He bows to the stranger and I see the smile falter from the young man's face. "You're needed, Sire."

My eyes nearly pop out of my head once I comprehend what's happening. I stare at the gentleman wide-eyed. I've been speaking with King Louis XVI this entire time!

I quickly snap out of my state of shock to curtsy properly. "Your Majesty."

King Louis scoops up my hand as I rise from my curtsy. He kisses the back of it softly.

“Excuse me, Madame,” he requests calmly. “I promise to find you again tonight to further our conversation. It has truly been a pleasure.”

Swiftly, King Louis follows the man back into the palace without another word. He doesn't acknowledge that he never announced that he was the king. This entire time I’ve been speaking with King Louis and had no idea! I thought he was just another noble or something.

“Holy-” I gasp, into the air, covering my mouth in shock. King Louis XVI just kissed my hand, this is unreal! _________________________

I’ve found that if I act as though I know what I’m doing, I blend in and they assume I’m one of them. I've also learned that they think I'm speaking French. I open my mouth and I hear English, but for some reason, they hear my words in French. I'm going to have to ask the Doctor about this whenever he decides to come back.

Look at me go, The Doctor was so worried I would stand out amongst the French court for nothing. Well, pish-posh to that! For a young woman of the 21st century, I'm killing it! I made friends with some of the women attending the party, especially Thérèse-Lucy de Dillon. Everyone here is mainly interested in palace gossip. Having grown up in a somewhat small town where everyone knows everyone else's business, I know how to gossip and make it interesting.

Thérèse is one of Marie Antoinette's closest friends and one of her ladies-in-waiting. The most interesting part, she married her second cousin.

“Yes, quite lovely indeed.” I agree with Lady Thérèse about summers in Paris. I've never been to Paris, but I've watched enough TV and movies to fake it.

Thérèse fans herself, I must agree the room is undoubtedly hot. The idea of air conditioning hasn’t even been considered yet and it’s August according to the women. I hope The Doctor finds whatever he’s looking for so we can leave sooner rather than later. Acting this posh is draining!

A man clears his throat behind me, interrupting the circle from our conversation. I turn around and am met with a familiar face. I find myself frozen for a moment until out of the corner of my eye I see Thérèse curtsying and I do the same.

“Your Majesty,” we greet in unison

“Madames,” he smiles kindly to each of us. “Pleasure to see you again Madame de Dillon," he addresses Thérèse.

"Pleasure is all mine, Sir," she smirks.

King Louis then directs his attention to me with a grin. He scoops up my hand as he did before and plants a kiss there. “I don’t believe we have met Lady…”

I play along. “Benoit,” I reply with the first name I could conjure up.

“Madame de Dillon, would you mind if I stole Madame Benoit for a moment?” He asks.

“Not at all,” she complies, sending me a mischievous look. “If you would excuse us,” she curtsies to the King.

He grants his permission with a slight nod of his head. Once they're gone, King Louis gestures toward the doors leading out to the hall. I stroll with him into the hallway, leaving behind the lively atmosphere and the security of others' presence. Now, it’s just him and I, excluding two of his guards following us.

I admire the art hanging on the walls as we pass stroll. The time it must’ve taken to paint such detail is beyond me. I also think of how priceless these pieces will be in the future.

“Would you like to see the gardens?” He offers.

I jump at the opportunity eagerly, "oh could we?!"

The King chuckles lightly at my enthusiasm. I’m sure he isn’t used to receiving such a genuine reaction from someone. Everyone has to be so uptight around him.

"I'm sorry I-"

"No, no, don't apologize," he waves his hands to ease my nerves. "I'm glad to see your interest." He places a hand on my upper back gently. "They're right this way."

King Lous guides me through two glasses doors leading outside to the gardens. The area outside is lit with tall torches lining the paths throughout the entire estate. If I let myself overthink the fact that I’m strolling in a garden with King Louis XVI then I’ll geek out and ruin the chance of speaking with him truthfully. Thus, I must remain calm and try to not think about the circumstances. After all, I spent almost five minutes with him before without any slip-ups. Then again, I didn’t know I was speaking with the King of France.

“Madame Benoit, tell me,” he implores. “How is it we have yet to meet before tonight? Unless we have, but I believe I would have remembered the pleasure and your beauty would be quite memorable.”

My cheeks become warm, though I think the excessive amount of white powder Joséphine plastered on my face may mask my blushing.

“I’ve been away in Italy.” I make up a story as I go. “My father sent me away from my education. He wanted it to be only myself and my tutor constantly.”

King Louis seems impressed, even fascinated by my tale. The secret to a good cover-up is to lie as little as possible, to basically sugarcoat the truth. That way it’s easy to remember but also simple to discuss.

He glances up from the pebble-covered path to me. He raises his brow slightly. “What are you favorite subjects?”

I notice his body language, his interlocked behind his back. It’s very informal. He must be becoming comfortable around me. I first noticed the shift in his demeanor when we left the crowded party. He almost instantly relaxed once when we were out of everyone’s view.

“I enjoy literature and history above all. Yet, I also find learning to speak other languages such as English, Latin, and Italian all very fascinating.”

I make it a point to name the languages I’m positive His Majesty is fluent in. If this works to gain his approval, perhaps I could use my knowledge on him to gain earn his good graces.

He halts and I immediately dread that I may have said something wrong. Reluctantly, I meet his eye.

“You are quite the fascinating lady, Madam,” he states as if it’s fact.

He’s dropping compliments like candy from a Piñata. Granted, he’s French, they’re known for their romance. Plus, I’m sure Louis is used to charming women in his court. He is a politician after all.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I manage to say though I feel very exposed under his gaze. I mean, he is iconic after all, for good and bad reasons.

The two of us continue through the paths, exchanging facts about one another. I find similarities between us, genuine ones too! Everything I say about my interests and background is practically true, just altered a little, so there’s an honesty in our conversation.

“What are some of your favorite pieces of literature?” King Louis asks as we stop in front of the Fountain of Apollo.

I hum, pretending to be thinking over my favorite when in reality I’m rushing to remember work from before the Colonial Era. I can’t exactly say A Farewell to Arms, it doesn't exist yet.

“I don’t have a favorite piece per se because I prefer to read all sorts of work. Authors, philosophers, playwrights, I will read them all. Including the essays written by Rousseau or Voltaire in particular. Though they challenge the essence of our beloved country's system, I believe it is important to be well-read and educated on all points-of-view to form a legitimate opinion.”

In reality, Rousseau and Voltaire were geniuses with the An Essay on Tolerance and The Social Contract. Yet, I’m a women currently in a male dominated world. I shouldn’t be speaking of philosophers or politics.

He picks up my hand and holds it in both of his gently. My heart starts beating rapidly as my breathing catches in my throat. I’ve spoken out of turn for sure. I suppose my modern views can’t be so easily suppressed despite my efforts. I prepare for any insults he could say.

“You, Lady Benoit, are by far the most alluring woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Taken aback, I was expecting the polar opposite reaction. I bow my head in gratitude. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

He grins charmingly, “please, call me Louis.”

His request flatters me more than his compliments. It means far more to me that we share a bond rather than his appreciation of my appearance or words. Now, I know he respects which this time is rare to earn from a man.

This entire experience is so unreal and I feel as though I’m on cloud nine. In history books, these figures seems so far away, almost like fictional character. Yet, here I am, speaking to King Louis XVI and he just asked me to call him Louis.

“In that case Louis, please call me Y/N," I request in return.

In exchange for his respect, though I already did, I give him my real name. He is trusting in me by opening up, so the least I can do is give him my real name.

“Y/N,” he repeats to himself.

Boy, it sounds so beautiful with his perfect French accent. I could listen to him speak all day.

“So unique! Exquisite, the same could be said for the woman who possesses it," he smirks.

My gaze falls to the pebbles beneath us as we start to move again. I can feel Louis’s eye on me, but I can’t form the courage to meet his focus. In history, it’s said he is very shy and kept to himself. He certainly isn’t shy at the moment.

Unexpectedly, Louis jogs ahead a few feet and leans over the short perimeter of a small edge. I watch as he picks a flawless red rose from the massive bush.

He hurries back to me, gleaming. “For the girl who's beauty is unparalleled, even by that of the most perfect rose.”

Wow, he’s good, and he just came up with that? Smooth.

I accept the flower with a soft smile. “You’re too sweet.”

The back of his hand rises to my cheek and gently brushes against my skin.

“I see the world in your eyes,” he mutters under his breath, mere inches from my face.

My heart is pounding in my chest from both excitement and mere shock that this moment is occurring. King Louis is totally hitting on me right now. What am I supposed to do? This isn’t just some creep in a bar I can dismiss!

“You’re not what I expected… ” I blurt out in a whisper

It could never be more true. The history books don’t do him justice. Considering many of them were written off the accounts of people who were not close to him the lack of fact makes sense.

He laughs breathlessly, unfazed by my words. “‘expectation is the root of all heartache,’ as Shakespeare once said. What were you expecting?”

I shake my head, unsure in all honesty. Deciding to put a stop to his advances while things aren’t too complicated, I create some distance between us.

“I guess I was prepared to meet the person subject to the rumors and gossip. I was told to expect one person and was met with someone completely different,” I answer honestly.

“If it means anything, you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You don’t treat me like the King, you treat me as you do anyone else and for that, I’m eternally grateful to you. It was that very fact that drew me to you! When we met you didn’t know who I was and I took advantage of that. Yet, hereafter you continue to treat me like the average man.”

“At the end of the day, we’re all human," I reason with a shrug. "Each of us play a role in life and yours happens to be King. You were born into your position, you didn’t choose it. The least I can do is treat you normally for all you do. When I look at you, I don’t see the King, I see Louis. The man who enjoys intellectual conversations, loves to travel, who one day will see the colonies for himself.”

I know the last part not to be true, but I can at least hope that he may listen to my advice and go.

Louis smiles softly, leaning in closer to me. I prepare to turn my cheek and dodge his lips when suddenly the rapid clicking of heels on the pebbles cause both of us to whip our heads toward the castle.

The same man before jogs up to us. He halts and bows to Louis, struggling to catch his breath.

“Your Majesty, you're requested by Her Majesty the Queen to give a toast and begin a dance."

Louis signs deeply, clearly not wanting to return to his duties. “Yes, very well, let us get it over with.” He starts to the palace in a brisk march.

I debate whether to follow Louis as I watch the man frantically tries to keep up with him. Suddenly stops in his tracks and the man nearly runs into him but skids to a halt. Louis turns on his heels and walks back to me, shaking his head.

“My apologizes, Y/N.” He offers me his hand, “accompany me please?”

If I do choose to return to the party hand-in-hand with him then it will be evident that we were alone together. People would have a field day for gossip. That wouldn't exactly count as 'laying-low.' Against my better judgement, I slip my hand into his. Louis kisses the back of it, then interlocks our arms. I place my free hand over his arm as well. Finally, he escorts me inside at a much slower pace than before, evidently not caring if he’s late. 

“Tell me about your family,” he requests, glancing at me with a joyful grin. 

_____________________

Masterlist

[thero0ks]

A Rose From Starrick’s Garden

I debated if I should post this oneshot. It is completely self indulgent, I couldn’t pick a plot line, and well I just wanted A LOT out of one fic. It’s complete trash, but hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did. 

Also, I am aware this fic is not cannon compliant at all, but just enjoy the dumpster fire of a fic I created :) 

The research Evie had trusted her with, had lead to another dead end. Defeated, she had shuffled through the train car in search of Evie to relay the bad news. Evie's voice indicated she was in the den, but another soft voice had Y/N pressing herself against the wall. 

Shame flooded her for a second, eavesdropping was rude, but her curiosity won over in the end. A small smile played at her lips at the bashful exchange between the two. The subtle flirting had her feeling giddy inside. In her mind Evie and Henry were a match made in heaven, and she'd been watching the romance blossom between the two. 

"Spying are we?" 

That smooth voice, tickling the shell of her ear made her jump. Her cheeks flamed red at being caught. It didn't help that the person who caught her had to be Jacob Frye of all people. The smug bastard would hold this over her head for weeks to come. 

"It's not what you think…"  

She knew it was a lame excuse, and by the quirk of his brow he conveyed that it was exactly what he thought. 

"I wonder how my dear ol' sis will take it when she finds out her best friend has taken up match making?" He pressed his gauntlet against the wall as he leaned close to her. "And when she finds out she's the main target."

The complete arrogance he conveyed had her shrinking against the wall. He was aware that he was in complete control of the conversation, and it amused him to no end to watch her squirm. 

"There aren't two people more perfect for each other…" She dared a glance up at him. Her statement seemed to briefly catch him off guard. He straightened, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. His next words were muttered under his breath. If her hearing wasn't so keen she would have missed it. 

"I can think of two people more deserving."

Before she could inquire further he had already made his presence known in the next room. Y/N could already feel the tension in the next room grow. Evie's obvious annoyance at her younger twin interrupting a shared moment with Henry.

"Careful Greenie, my sister seems to be having another fit again." 

"A fit you say?" 

Y/N made her way into the room to find Evie ready to explode. 

"You nearly wrecked England's economy!" She cried.

"Nearly Evie, key word." He said lounging on the sofa. 

"Nearly? If fath-" Y/N was quick to intercede. 

"Jacob was just about to brief me on a party Starrick will be attending." She said shooting a pointed glance at Jacob. 

Mirth danced in his eyes at the sight of Evie being worked up once again by his antics. "Yes, I was. A party your dear friend offered to go to in your place." 

Evie's shoulders relaxed a bit, "no rib crushing contraption for me then?" 

"Precisely." Y/N said with a nod. "Starrick is unaware of my involvement with the brotherhood, so it is possible that I may be able to glean some information from him."

Evie's eyes ran over her figure a moment, "with a bit of cleaning up I suppose you're exactly the type of woman Starrick would take an interest in."

"Yes, but how far are you willing to go for information?" Henry asked thoughtfully. "The most you could carry is a knife, which you would only have access to if you were…" Henry coughed, rubbing a hand up his neck. 

"I believe the word you're looking for is undressed Henry." Jacob chimed in. His voice was taut as he shifted into a sitting position on the couch. "Which at that point Starrick will put two and two together, and her throat will be slit faster than either of us can blink." 

"Then I'll go unarmed." Y/N said simply. 

"You expect us to let you walk in there unarmed and alone, right into Starricks arms?" Jacob inquired.

"I think the plan is bloody brilliant!" Evie said excitedly. "Think about it, if he decides he likes you he may start inviting you to other places as well." 

"A double agent infiltrating Templar ranks?" Henry interrupted, catching onto Evie's plan.

Jacob scoffed, "do you even realize what you're asking?" He said standing up, "you're asking your best friend to not only court the Templar Grandmaster, but warm his bed as well?" He cried, exasperated at Evie's schemes. "He could break her neck like a twig if he got the slightest hint that she's an assassin."

Evie rolled her eyes, "don't act like Y/N can't protect herself. She's a trained killer." 

"So is Starrick!" Jacob cried, throwing his hands up. "When she's caught in a Templar den, surrounded by a bunch of highly trained Templars her odds of survival drop to zero!"

"Oh just admit it Jacob, you can't stand the thought of another man touching her." Evie said brushing him off. 

Jacob froze, and Evie's shoulder's stiffened the moment she realized what she had said. "Jake, I didn't mean...it slipped." She said softly, as if she were trying to approach a startled deer. 

Jacob brushed past her, slamming the car door behind him. Y/N's jaw had gone slack as her eyes darted between Henry and Evie. 

Evie looked shameful, her hand covering her mouth as she sat down at the desk. She was still in shock over the secret she'd accidentally let slip.

"Evie..." Y/N began.

"You should get ready for the party." Evie's voice sounded hollow. "We've been waiting to infiltrate the Templars ranks for years. We can't waste this opportunity." Evie's crystal gaze seemed miles away. 

Y/N's eyes darted between Evie and Henry. He only offered her a shrug, as if this was another feud between the Fryes he'd rather not get involved in. With a sigh she left the two to scheme up their next plan. 

She could expect very little help from Evie with getting ready, which left her with only one option. Find a Rook willing to stuff her into a gown. 

She was lucky enough to find a few female Rooks occupying the bar car who agreed to assist.

White knuckles gripped the table as the lacings were pulled tight. "How tight do you want it ma'am?"

"As tight as it'll go." She gritted. She had concluded that Starrick's suspicions would be laid to rest if she appeared overtly vain. No assassin would dare to waltz into a ball in a contraption they couldn't breath in...right? 

The deep red satin skirt hung heavy on her hips, and the shoulder sleeves left her feeling bare and exposed. After inspecting her reflection in the mirror she concluded that she could appeal to any man with minimal effort. "I"ll be right surprised if Mr. Starrick leaves your side at all tonight." One of the Rooks concluded. 

Y/N offered her a kind smile, "thank you Emma." 

She grabbed the shawl wrapping it around her shoulders before making her way off the train. She was able to exit at (train station). Her next objective was to find a carriage.

•

••

•

Jacob watched the swish of a red dress disappearing into a carriage. A frown pulled at his lips. It was just like Evie to get her way. The mission was the only thing that mattered to her. When he had returned to the train car to plead his case once more she had quoted their father at him, "don't let personal feelings compromise the mission."

It had mattered very little that the mission involved her best friend. She could be extremely shrewd at times, and there was little he could do or say that would change her mind. 

The carriage was easy to catch. In a flash he'd opened the door and seated himself across from her. A look of shock was plain on her face, and a bit of fear once she realized she was unarmed. A scowl quickly appeared on her face as soon as she recognized him. "Jacob Frye! How dare you scare me like that!" She hissed slapping him with her fan. 

"Oi, I was only checking in love." He said, and a blush dusted her cheeks at the word "love." The unresolved tension from earlier hung in the air. 

Y/N was the first to look away, giving Jacob the chance to take her in. She was stunning. The dress complimented her soft skin, and the low neckline of the dress created a beautiful decolletage. He'd never seen so much skin on the assassin, and greedily his eyes hungered for more. He had to avert his hazel eyes, "you won't have any issues catching Starrick's eye in that."

(E/c) eyes flickered down at the ensemble. "Evie will be thrilled." She muttered. 

Jacob leaned forward capturing her chin in his hand tilting her gaze up into his hazel pools. "I'll be on the rooftops, if there are any issues signal me and I'll get you out of there." 

To his surprise she threw her arms around him engulfing him in a hug. "Thank you Jacob." She pulled away quickly, "perhaps I'm more nervous than I thought." 

Jacob quirked a smile, "I'll be there if you need me love." With a soft kiss to the back of her hand, he disappeared out of the carriage and into the night. 

•

••

•

She steadied her breathing as the carriage pulled up to the stone mansion. The carriage driver assisted her out the carriage. Her sides were already aching as she made her way up the steps of the house. She fanned herself in hopes that it would draw more oxygen into her lungs, but it was no use. Many eyes were drawn her way when she stepped into the gardens. Satisfaction grew inside when she noticed even the Grandmaster had paused mid sentence to stare. She threw him a small smirk before heading towards the dance floor.

The bait was laid, and all she had to do was wait for him to bite. Her eyes were about to dart to the rooftops when she felt a hand press into the small of her back. "I don't believe I have made your acquaintance."

His voice was elegant, and refined. One would suppose it was due to good breeding, and coming from a proper upbringing. "I very much doubt it Sir, I just arrived in London not three days ago." She turned to face him, but found herself even closer to him as he guided her closer with his hands. 

"Dance with me." It wasn't a request, he was a man who was used to being in control.

"I take it you always get your way?" She inquired as he lead her to the center of the dance floor.

"I'm a man who knows what he wants, and you look like a woman who knows what she wants."

Her lips quirked up, "I confess my strong will has lead me into trouble at times."

"A rose among the weeds, beautiful to look at, but painful for those who cannot handle the thorns." His palm felt solid on her waist, and she caught his eyes drinking in her figure that was on display. 

"Have you handled many roses then?" 

She found herself chest to chest with him. His eyes were hypnotic, and his body radiated power and control. A shiver went down her spine as his fingers trailed up her back. "Never one so sweet."

His lips were dangerously close, and propriety was insisting she pull away. She was unsure if it was the corset making her pant, or her heart that pounded dangerously inside her chest. 

A smoke bomb went off, and the shuffling of feet could be heard. She felt hands pulling her from behind. Crawford's arms felt like a steel cage as they tightened around her. She was being pulled in both directions. "Let go of her." That snarl could only belong to one man. 

"This has made the game more interesting Jacob." The smoke had started to clear and Starrick's expression was predatory. Cold steel pressed against her throat, and Jacob immediately froze. "What would Jacob Frye do to save a rose?"

"Let her go, this is between you and me Starrick." 

Starrick touted, "I suspect she is an assassin. More's the pity,  she would have looked absolutely divine spread across my desk." Gloved fingers tightened around her esophagus. She fought desperately to pry his fingers off. "I wish this had been under more sensual circumstances." His low voice tickled the shell of her ear.

Panic flooded Jacob's eyes, until a lucky blow found its mark. Y/N could feel the hard impact of bone against her elbow. It was enough for him to loosen his grip. Jacob sprung to action pulling her to him and grappling to the nearest rooftop. He took off across the rooftops. Y/N doing her best to find any speed quicker than a brisk walk. Jacob realizing she wasn't close behind, stopped to find her picking her way across the roof. "Why did you lace that thing so bloody tight?!" He cried.

"Why did you decide to ruin the mission?!" She countered. 

"I rescued you from that man's skeevy arms!" 

A roll of her (e/c) eyes was all she replied, "just find us a carriage. I can't run in this!"

Jacob was quick to zipline them to the ground. He found a small carriage and unceremoniously stuffed her in. She hadn't even seated herself when the carriage jolted forward, throwing her into the leather seat. "Can this thing go any faster?" She cried finding several blighters on their tail. 

"I'm sorry your highness, did you want to drive?" Jacob quipped back. 

A gunshot echoed behind them. "Glad to know I got dressed up for my funeral." She shouted angrily.

"Oh, Y/N I've been in worse spats than this. We are perfectly fine." He said simply. It wasn't a second later when another carriage slammed into the left side of theirs. Y/N wished she hadn't gazed out the window. It all seemed to happen too quickly. Jacob had taken a sharp turn onto the bridge when the blighter carriage had slammed into theirs. The world was upside down a moment, and Y/N knew she was headed right for the Thames. 

Jacob had been thrown out of his seat when the carriage tipped over. He braced himself for the cold water. When he surfaced he found the carriage slipping below the water's surface. It was then that it dawned on him that Y/N would be stuck. He dove under searching blindly for the carriage. The murky Thames making visibility poor. He found a window and began to smash through it. He pulled her body through the window, but found the dress was stuck. His hidden blade set to work shredding any material he could get his hands on. When the dress finally loosened, he pulled her free and pulled them up to the surface.

The shore wasn't far and she was barely breathing. As soon as they reached shore he cut the lacings. She coughed up water, gulps full of air burning her lungs. She was freezing, and the white shift sticking to her skin made her realize how exposed she was. "J-j-j-a-a-cob Fr-r-rye," her teeth clattered as shivers wracked her body. 

"Shh love," he said softly as his eyes ran down her, inspecting her for any damage. Self consciously she covered her chest. The shift was extremely see-through while wet, and she was mortified the younger Frye twin had practically seen everything at this point. To her surprise there was no trace of smugness in his eyes. Only concern, and possible guilt. 

"Let's get you back to the train before you freeze." He said simply. 

"I cant walk around London like this." She said gazing down at her stockings that were caked with sand.

Jacob looked her up and down, "I think this is the best you've looked yet." Hazel eyes flickered down at sopping linen that was barely hanging onto her body. 

"My eyes are up here Mr. Frye." She dead panned. She immediately got to her feet. "Well I suppose if I'm to be a trollop, I shall be the best trollop London has ever seen." She set off towards the train tracks, shoulders back and head held high.

Jacob's head cocked to the side, how he loved a woman with spunk. However, he was just starting to realize just how see through that shift was. If there was anything Jacob Frye considered himself to be, a gentleman was one of them. He was quick to remove his over coat and soon engulfed her in it. A shiver ran down her spine when the dripping coat hit her shoulders. He scooped her up in his arms, and he was surprised to find out how light she was in his arms. "Jacob!" She squeaked in surprise. 

"Now come love, a gentleman wouldn't let a lady stroll about the streets in her undergarments."

"A gentleman wouldn't have made me go for a swim either." She grumbled. 

His chest rumbled with a chuckle. "I am taking you for a moonlight stroll, and what's more romantic than that?" He inquired. "All in all, I would say this was a successful date." 

She sputtered, "a successful date?" 

"Fancy clothes, a carriage ride, an evening swim, a moonlit stroll, and you're almost completely naked. What more could I have done to make it a success?" 

A blush stained her cheeks, "pray, what gave you the notion that we are on a date?" 

A smirk spread across his lips, "you never denied that we were on a date, besides there are some positively wicked things I've wanted to do to you all evening."

"I think this whole night started, because your jealousy got the best of you Jacob." 

His grip tightened on her, "what do I have to be jealous about love? My hands are the ones touching your arse not Starrick's." His breath tickled her ear as it lowered an octave, "and what a lovely arse it is." 

"Why haven't you said anything?" Her voice sounded small. Unsure if this was a conversation the two should have. 

He sighed, "I never thought you'd give a bloke like me a second glance." He said with a simple shrug. 

"Jacob, you literally stuffed me ass first into a carriage, then proceeded to wreck said carriage in the Thames. I should be pissed, but honestly it's a little endearing. I know you mean well." Her hand came up to cup his face, and a small blush appeared on his cheeks.

"What in the bloody hell did you do Jacob?" Evie's voice snapped the two at attention. 

"The mission was a success Evie!" Jacob said with a grin. 

"Starrick’s men are all over London looking for you two! You wrecked a carriage off the bridge, and Y/N where on earth are your clothes?" 

"The bottom of the Thames…" she said sheepishly. 

"The mission was an utter disaster!" Evie cried. 

"That is where you are wrong. Your mission was a disaster, mine was an utter success." Jacob said proudly. "Now if you don't mind dear sis, I would recommend staying far away from my train car for the rest of the evening." He leaned closer to his sister, "I have plucked a rose from Starrick's garden that I plan to worship thoroughly."  

@marshmallow--3

[marshmallow-phd]

Colored Blue

Genre: Royalty!AU, somewhat enemies to lovers

Pairing: Sehun x Fem!reader

A/N: I’m not sure if there’s much to the enemies to lovers part.... also, i don’t normal put the word count, but so everyone’s aware, this is about 6k... enjoy! (hopefully!)

**

The carriage ride was far from smooth. Each small pebble or rock or crack in the ground jolted the wheels which in turn shook the coach. Each bump churned your stomach that was already jostled with nerves. 

“Why do we have to do this?” you asked, your eyes closed to try and calm the nauseated feeling. 

Your governess, Edna, tsked from the bench across from you. 

Although you were too old now to need a governess, Edna continued to stay on as a companion, someone to keep you company on trips like this where your parents were unable (or simply chose not to) to attend. That was quite alright with you since you much preferred her presence to anyone else’s. She was like an eccentric aunt to you, somehow both responsible and adventurous. Sort of. 

Edna would never approve of sneaking out late at night or being alone with someone who was not your betrothed (which you were lucky enough not to have one of those – yet). However, she wasn’t against your archery lessons or horseback riding that went a little faster than a leisurely trot. She was practically a walking contradiction and you weren’t entirely sure of what she would and would not approve of. It was always a guessing game; one that you liked playing to keep yourself entertained. 

“Are you really wanting me to go over it again with you or are you simply wanting to cure your own boredom?” Edna asked, not even glancing up from her needlework. How she could do that without pricking her finger every bump was astounding. 

“Oh, I know why,” you huffed. “At least, on the surface. But it sounds like a pathetic excuse, if you ask me.”

“I don’t believe anyone did,” Edna smirk. Head still bent over her needlework, she looked at you through her eyelashes. Both of you started to laugh. 

Your laugh, however, soon faded to a light chuckle before dying out completely. It wasn’t fair. That was practically the slogan of your life. “Unfair”. Each aspect of your life - from how you dressed to how you ate to who’s company you kept - was dictated by both decorum and your parents. Being a lady of noble birth may have sounded like a glamorous life in the fairytales Edna had read to you as a child, but it didn’t take you long to find that it was nothing but a cage made of manners and tradition. While the bars had always remained steadfast, a new lock was about to be put on the door. One that was much stronger - and possibly unbreakable. 

Running away always sounded like a wonderful, spur-of-the-moment idea. Unfortunately, your mind would instantly remind you that you had no clue as to how to survive outside the castle walls. You didn’t know how to cook or hunt or work with your hands beyond the theory of it. You wouldn’t last more than maybe two days on your own and that fear kept you put.

The carriage slowed to a stop. After a short succession of knocks, one of your knights poked his head in through the small door. 

“Mi’lady, I wanted to let you know that we’re just outside the city walls. Once through, it should only be a few minutes more to the castle itself.”

“Thank you, Sir Markl.”

With a last nod, he closed the door before shouting to continue on. 

You were already here. Sure, you’d really been traveling for two days, but it still felt so sudden. How would your presence be received? 

Since your grandfather was a young duke, your two families had feuded. Sometimes it was simply high tension, while there were times where it was fought on the battlefield. The last skirmish was nearly two decades ago, forced to a fragile truce by the king. And now the old man was hoping to strengthen that truce by marrying you off to the son of the rival duke. Oh, of course. It was merely a suggestion. As if it could be ignored. 

How were you supposed to be happy with someone who surely hated you? 

You were certain that this boy grew up with the same kind of dirt spewed out about you from his parents that you heard from yours about them. Except, it wasn’t just your parents that didn’t have the most flattering view of this future duke. 

Other barons and knights didn’t seem to have the highest view of him either. Standoffish, uninterested, rude, and loose-lipped were a few of the adjectives you’d heard used to describe him. 

Wonderful. 

All too soon, the coach came to another stop and you could hear Sir Markl loudly announce your arrival. After a few seconds, you heard the gate being raised and the carriage lurched forward to go the forty feet or so to the real front door of the castle. You knew it was too late to run, but the image of you bolting out of the carriage and into the woods to get away seemed very satisfying in your head. 

When the door swung open, Edna motioned for you to exit first. In a very unladylike way, you blew air out through your lips before morphing your face into a neutral expression. In a fashion much more expected of your station, you stepped out into the sunshine. With the help of Sir Markl, you managed not to trip your way down to the ground.

Staring up at the large wooden double doors, you took a deep breath. You felt like you were at the mouth of the dragon’s cave, the sacrifice left to die for the good of the village.

“Come, mi’lady,” Edna urged with a wave of her hand. You nodded once, picking up your skirt and making your way up the steps as the doors were opened for you. 

The steward was waiting for you inside the front hall. He bowed and introduced himself, although your brain didn’t quite catch his name. Your mind was a little occupied at the moment. 

He led you through the halls of the grand castle where drapes and paintings that depicted scenes of hunts and parties covered up the less welcoming-looking gray stone. Your eyes wandered among the art but never lingered too long. There would be plenty of time to memorize their threads and brushstrokes in the future. 

The steward finally came to a stop outside another pair of double doors that could only lead into the Great Hall. The place where the Duke would conduct his meetings with citizens and dignitaries and where the festive parties would be held. You didn’t want to go in there, but what choice did you have?

With both hands, the steward pushed open the doors and announced your arrival. 

Sitting in a large wooden chair painted in a flashy gold sat the Duke, his wife - beautiful and smiling, nothing at all like the wicked witch you’d pictured as a child - sat to his left. 

“Welcome!” the Duke greeted. “It’s wonderful to see that you’ve arrived safely.” While there was certainly a small strain in his voice, the words out of the Duke’s mouth seemed genuine. 

You curtsied as custom. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lord.”

“I’m sorry that our son is not here as well,” the Duchess said with apologetic eyes. “He is in the middle of training at the moment and we didn’t want to make you wait for him to clean up. You must be exhausted from your journey. Sohee will show you to your room. Please, take your time settling in. We will reconvene at dinner.”

Relief flowed over you as the young maid walked up from her spot off to the side, curtsied in front of you, and turned to leave the room. Finally, you’d be allowed to rest and you didn’t have to meet your possible future husband quite yet. In fact, the more you were able to put it off, the happier you would be. 

In a very un-ladylike manner, you flopped down on the bed as soon as the maid Sohee was gone and the door was closed. Staring up at the ceiling, you blew air out from between your lips. Should you start counting down the days until you were allowed to go back home now?

“Oh, it isn’t even that bad,” Edna scolded you. “The Duke and Duchess were friendly enough.”

“For now,” you mumbled. It was true that their greeting was warm and they seemed genuine in wanting you here. But the childhood fears and scene of imagination that you’d grown up with weren’t easily tossed away.

Edna sat down next to you on the bed and coaxed you into a sitting position. “I know you’re tired of hearing it all, but this is truly for the good of your people and your own future.”

“I don’t exactly remember consenting to any of this.”

Shaking her head, Edna fixed a strand of your hair that had fallen onto your face. “That’s the sacrifice to be made in order to live a comfortable life.”

“Comfortable is not the word I would use,” you argued. How could a life dictated by marriages and land and being in the King’s favor be comfortable? You’d much rather be free, allowed to fall in love with whoever you desired and to go places when you wished – and avoid the ones you wanted. 

“You have much more than most,” Enda reminded you. 

You bit back your tongue out at her back as she stood up, knowing any further argument was useless. Like you weren’t reminded of that on a daily basis. Did their struggles suddenly make your own invalid?

The muffled sound of clashing metal interrupted your thoughts. Curious, you went over to the slim window that let in the sunlight into your new room. Just outside on the ground below you were a group of four or five men all attacking one central character. Even from here you could tell that he was tired, but he didn’t give up. He kept swinging his sword, blocking blows and delivering attacks of his own. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop one of the other men from getting the better of him. He caught the lone fighter around the ankle, pulling his leg until he fell backwards. You flinched at how much that must have hurt. 

As if he’d sensed you watching, the man looked up at you. You only allowed for a brief moment of eye contact before you quickly turned around, your heart pounding in your chest from being caught. 

“What has you all excited?” Edna teased as she started to unpack your trunk. 

“I am not excited.”

She chuckled at you, straightening up and placing a hand against your cheek. “The warmth of your face says otherwise.” Peeking over your shoulder she chuckled again. “It looks like his grace is still busy practicing his swordsmanship.”

Your eyes widened as you flipped back over to look out the window again. “That’s the Duke’s son?”

He was… scrawnier than you imagined. More lean than the barrel chested nobles you’d met in the past. Granted, they were built that way in order to wear heavy armor day in and day out.

Over the sight, you went back to your bed, hoping to get some true rest in before you were forced to meet him face to face. He may have been physically different than what you’d thought, you were sure you would be more correct on his personality. After all, rumors had to have some basis of truth, right?

**

A few hours later you were summoned for dinner. Edna was allowed to come with you and she took the seat to your right at the long banquet table. 

To be honest, you were a little surprised to see only the Duke and Duchess sitting at the table ready to eat and converse. You were starting to get the feeling that you weren’t the only one dreading this meeting. If he was going to avoid you as much as he could then you wouldn’t complain. Perhaps if the two of you never met, you would be allowed to go home with no commitments and no hostility. After all, it wouldn’t be your fault there was no marriage. 

However, those hopes were dashed when the doors across the dining hall opened and the man from the earlier scrimmage strolled in. He barely nodded to his parents before settling into the chair across from you. It was as if you were completely invisible and you couldn’t help but feel slightly offended. Sure, the avoidance and tardiness you could accept and deal with, but being blatantly ignored was… well, it was hurting your feelings for lack of a better description. 

“Thank you for joining us, Sehun,” the Duchess said in a voice that was simultaneously sweet and scolding. 

“Training ran late,” he said in a low tone. He made eye contact with no one, keeping his concentration on the food in front of him and filling his plate. 

“At least you cleaned up,” the Duchess murmured. 

“I’m sorry for my son’s rudeness,” the Duke said to you. “He should take a moment to introduce himself since he did not greet you earlier.”

Sehun paused, looking at his father questionably. When the Duke did not relent on the stern glare he was sending his son, Sehun sighed and fell back into his chair before finally standing up and bowing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady (y/n).”

You were surprised to the point of almost forgetting to nod back in acknowledgement. The fact that he knew your name…. Surely he’d just heard it from his parents enough that it sunk in beyond his control. But he kept staring at you with those dark brown eyes that were almost black. They were nearly unreadable, blank and impenetrable. You argued with yourself whether or not there were actually thoughts behind them and he was simply that good at masking it or if his mind was as truly empty as he was making it seem. If you were to be stuck with him the rest of your life, you really hoped it wasn’t the latter. 

Dinner went about in a more uninteresting manner. The Duchess would occasionally ask you about your upbringing, what you liked to do in your spare time. Once in a while, the Duke would comment as well or insert a question of his own in regards to your father’s dealings. Sehun, however, had gone to his previous mindset of pretending no one else was there. Part of you wished that he would open up, saying something, anything. 

“If you’ll excuse me, your Grace,” you said quietly. “I’m still a bit tired from my journey. Would you please allow me to return to my room?”

“Of course,” the Duke nodded. “We’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

You gave them each a curtsied (although the energy felt wasted upon Sehun) and headed off to your room with Edna in tow. 

“You didn’t have to come with me,” you told her back in your room. 

“If I hadn’t I might have given that Sehun boy a tongue lashing for how he acted,” she grumbled. 

You smiled at her. “Yes, it was quite rude, wasn’t it? But what can you do? I’m not going to force him into conversation. Not today, at least.”

“Not today?” Edna raised an eyebrow at you. 

You tried to keep your face innocent, but it was useless. “You know me too well. The odds of me getting out of this marriage are slim. Might as well see if the rumors of his manners are true.”

Edna narrowed her eyes at you cheekily. “You think he’s handsome, don’t you?”

That got a scoff out of you. “I do not. He’s thin and his chin is pointy and you know I prefer lighter eyes.”

But your argument fell flat. “That’s a strong chin he has. And he isn’t sickly. From the way he was swinging that sword… he isn’t weak either.”

“That hardly means anything.” You were coming up empty on any meaningful fight back. 

“Keep telling yourself that. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was muscle underneath that tunic,” she said as she helped you out of your dress. “But I think getting to know him is a wonderful idea. You might like what you find.”

Rolling your eyes, you crawled in between the sheets and shoved your face into the pillow. It was a useless effort, but you wanted to stop yourself from thinking of Sehun before drifting off to sleep. 

**

The next day after breakfast, you thought you were to get to know your future family. However, the Duke had duties out in the fields and the Duchess was meeting with the wives of the lower nobles. Sehun… you weren’t sure where he was exactly, only that he disappeared soon after finishing his meal. 

So, you gave Edna the morning off and took to exploring the castle grounds on your own.

The garden was beautiful. Hedges twice your height nearly blocked out the sky. They were trimmed to perfect rectangles, little buds blooming spontaneously among the leaves. Flowers – both domestic and exotic – grew everywhere along the paths that twisted and turned within the walls of the garden. 

A smile grew on your face as you came across a bush of white roses. Taking the small knife out from your boot (Edna insisted on carrying protection at all times), you cute off three fully bloomed roses and headed back inside. After convincing one of the maids to fetch you vases and dyed cloth, you went to the library. In a corner near the window, you took the roses and put them in the vases freshly filled with water. Cutting the dark blue fabric, you placed the pieces in the water near the bottom of the vase. 

“Are you trying to poison the flower?”

The sudden visitor made you jump in surprise, nearly knocking the vase on the table over. You turned to simply explain what you were doing, but your lips formed a pout when you realized it was Sehun. 

“No,” you snapped. “I’m dyeing the petals.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Because I like strange colored flowers. Blue and purple roses aren’t exactly found in nature.”

“Isn’t it a bit wasteful?” he asked. You thought for a moment that he would sit down and join you at the table, but he remained standing, hands folded behind his back.

“Wasteful?” you echoed. 

“Blue and purple fabrics are the most expensive and yet you’re putting them in water. To dye flowers.”

“So beauty should only be allowed upon a person’s body?” Standing up, you took one of the vases and pushed it towards Sehun’s chest who barely caught the poor flower in time for it to not crash down to the floor. “Watch that over the next few days. You might be surprised at what grows before your eyes.” You turned and picked up the remaining flowers and scraps of cloth. 

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor for our own relationship?” he asked out of nowhere. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “I wasn’t aware that we had one.” And with that, you left the study, a triumphant smirk on your lips. 

**

Your last quip to Sehun must have put a chink in his cold armor. For the rest of the day, you didn’t see him, even at meal times. A worried look refused to leave the Duchess’ face all throughout the evening. Her eyes flickered to the chair that Sehun had occupied the day before.

The Duke was the first to excuse himself from the table, leaving you and Edna alone with the Duchess. 

“Lady (y/n)?”

You reluctantly raised your gaze from the plate in front of you to your gracious host. “Yes?”

“I would like to speak with you alone.” It was not a request that gave room for refusal. Even if you were able to say no, was there really any reason to?

“I’ll see you in your room,” Edna said as she stood up from her seat. Before exiting through the door, she gave you a last glance over her shoulder. 

The Duchess stood up and took over Edna’s seat, picking up your hand in hers. “I understand that this must be a confusing time for you.”

Confusing? No, not really. You knew what was expected of this “visit”. Trying? Frustrating? Irritating? Those descriptors would be much more accurate. But you didn’t correct her out loud. 

“We didn’t fully prepare Sehun for this possibility,” the Duchess confessed to you. “He was only aware of you coming here a few days ago. When it was explained what the hopeful outcome would be… well, he’s always been a free spirit. A bit of cliche way to describe one’s child, but it’s true. He’s always followed his own way. So, being told what would be expected of him - especially when marriage has never been an idea he was fond of - its taken its toll on him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked bravely when she’d taken a moment to pause. 

“Because I want you to put more effort on your end to get to know him,” the Duchess said with a smile. “He won’t come to you, not if left alone. The King wants this union, but Sehun doesn’t care about that. I see a light in you that might attract him, if given the time.”

You couldn’t quite find it in you to return the smile. “So, you want to force myself upon him?”

“Not in any sort of obvious way, but, essentially… yes. For the sake of both of our territories.”

With that, she patted your head and left the dining hall. 

You didn’t really want to get to know the man. You were quite alright with the idea of him not liking the idea of marriage. Perhaps your previous hope of this not coming to fruition could still come together. 

But what you didn’t know was that Sehun was not as uninterested as you’d previously suspected or as the Duchess had spoken about.

From a shadowed corner of the hall, Sehun watched you get up from the table and leave the room. Something along the lines of curiosity was brewing inside. He’d never cared for the ladies that hung around the castle in the past. 

Before the King had passed down this “wish”, daughters of lesser nobles and rich merchants in town tried their hardest to capture his attention. They always failed. Perhaps it was because you were something new that he was more intrigued than he should have been. Someone he hadn’t seen grow up through the many balls and dinners his parents had hosted through the years. 

Or maybe it was because you didn’t seem on board for this marriage either. Earlier in the library, you didn’t bat your eyes at him or use flirty lines. You seemed more annoyed than anything that he'd interrupted you and questioned what you were doing. The flower you’d given him was still starking white, causing him to think that you might have been making up what you were doing. 

Sighing to himself, Sehun waltzed up to the table and made himself a plate of food while trying to stay out of the way of the servants who were cleaning up. 

“Feel free to take whatever leftovers you want,” he said softly to the younger ones. They were only children, twelve years old or so. Smiles shined on their faces as they bowed their heads to him. 

“Thank you, my lord!” they cheered. He returned the gesture with a small grin of his own, ruffling the youngest boy’s hair before heading to his room for the night. 

**

You were cringing inside as you slowly made your way to the practice field outside near the stables. One of the kitchen boys had told you that Sehun was out here with his bow perfecting his aim. The information seemed to be correct as you grew closer to the archery lanes. It didn’t stop you from questioning why you were bothering with this. 

All by himself, Sehun drew back arrow after arrow, hitting the center circle nearly every time. 

“You’re rather good at that,” you complimented just in time to surprise him and throw off his aim. You couldn’t help but giggle at his exasperated state when the arrow hit the outermost ring. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Lady (y/n)?” he asked, obviously frustrated. The tightness of his eyebrows and the downturn of his lips told you that he might prefer if you went away, but you’d told the Duchess that you would try. Somewhat. Besides, Edna was right. While he wasn’t anything like the knights and barons you were used to, he was a bit handsome. Or… maybe more than a bit….

You shrugged. “I was simply bored and thought I would join you and get some practice of my own in.”

“Do you know how to use one of these?” Sehun challenged.

You scoffed at the insult. “I am more than adequate at archery.”

“Really?” He raised that stupid eyebrow at you again. Then he held his bow out for you. “Let’s see then.”

Confident in your abilities, you snatched the bow out of his grasp and plucked an arrow out of the quiver sitting on the ground. Adjusting your stance, you held up the bow and docked the arrow. It took a bit more strength that you were used to in order to pull back on the string, but you managed to hold it long enough to set up your sight. However, when you let go, you were a little disappointed in the landing of the arrow, hitting the round straw target in one of the middle rings. 

“Not… terrible,” Sehun said. You could hear the amusement in his voice. “Better than most ladies, I’m sure.” Well, at least that was sort of a compliment. “Let me show you how to improve.” He stepped towards you, which in turn made you step back. 

“What are you doing?” you snapped. 

He sighed. “I’m trying to show you how to do it better. Or do you not want to ever hit the bullseye?”

He was challenging you again. Let him get close or run away. Well, you certainly weren’t going to take the second choice. 

This time you stayed put when he stepped closer. You even allowed him to turn you back towards the target with his hands on your hips. His back was nearly against your shoulder blades. You were a little too aware of him, his breath on your neck and his fingers on top of yours as he helped you lift the bow and pull back on the arrow. 

“Lower your elbow,” he whispered in your ear. It was much lower and huskier than it ever needed to be, letting you know that he was very aware of what he was doing. The only question: was he doing this to see how much he could play with you? A small part of you truly hoped that he wasn’t. “Don’t pull too tight or your arm will start shaking. The tension in the string is enough to send it flying without too much work on your end. And don’t aim for the dot. Instead, aim just above it. The farther you are away, the higher you need to aim as the arrow will drop as it flies.”

You were barely acknowledging what he was saying. As hard as you tried, you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than him. This probably wasn’t what the Duchess had in mind when she asked you to get to know her son. 

“Are you listening?” Sehun asked, apparently noticing the way your mind was wondering. 

“Huh? Yes, of course.” No, of course not. 

“Okay. Good. Then let go when you’re ready.”

You tried to recall what he’d said previously, aiming above the bullseye. Letting go, you watched the arrow fly, hitting just to the left of the large red dot. 

“Better,” Sehun nodded behind you. He didn’t seem to be aware that he was still so close. 

Looking back at him, you studied his face. The conflicting way his eyes and nose seemed so soft, but his chin and mouth sharpened out his features, putting him halfway between boy and man. Almost subconsciously, he placed a hand on your shoulder, causing your heart to jump into a frenzy. You hardly knew this person. Why were you acting this way? 

“How’s my flower?” you asked in order to distract yourself. 

“Hm?” He looked to you, still not moving to create space. “Your flower? Oh, right. It’s still white.”

“Well, of course it is,” you laughed. “It takes time for it to turn colors. Perhaps this is meant to teach you patience.”

“Or you’re simply playing with me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t play games.”

“Good,” was his reply. It seemed forever went by as the two of you just stared at each other, unsure of where to go from there but neither willing to walk away. 

“Lady (y/n)!”

You jumped back at the sound of your name, not as relieved as you should have been by the interruption. 

Edna hurried up to you, a twitch giving away her position on what she’d stumbled upon. “It’s time to get ready for dinner,” she told you. 

Nodding a little too eagerly, you curtsied a goodbye to Sehun, handing him back his bow and quickly following Edna back to the castle. 

“Don’t,” you told her once the two of you were far enough away. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Edna chuckled. 

“Yes, you do,” you growled through clenched teeth. “So, don’t even think about it.”

Her response was a smirk.

**

Something happened after that day in the field. Over the next two weeks, you and Sehun spent more and more time together. 

It was never on purpose. Neither of you sought out the other, but when you did run into him, you ended up spending several hours talking. The more you learned about him, the more your anxiety on the possible marriage faded away. While he occasionally had some childish tendencies, you saw his kindness towards the servants, particularly the younger ones. He was only slightly spoiled, but not to the point where it turned you away from him. In fact, there were times you found it enduring. An odd response, you were aware, but you couldn’t help it.

The two of you were walking through the gardens when the steward arrived. 

“What is it?” Sehun asked. 

“The Duke is requesting your presence,” the steward replied. 

Sehun nodded and then turned to you to bow. “I’ll find you again later.”

“Actually, he is wanting to see you both.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. Was this it? Were you expected to agree to a wedding this soon? As much as you’ve enjoyed getting to know Sehun, your feelings for him growing every day, you weren’t sure if you were ready for that step. 

The two of you followed the steward back inside and through the hallways until you arrived in the Great Hall. Sitting in their regal seats were the Duke and Duchess. Edna stood off to the side, a pale envelope in her hand. 

“What’s going on?” Sehun inquired. 

“A letter has arrived from Lady (y/n)’s parents,” the Duke answered. On queue, Edna stepped forward and handed you the envelope. A knowing smile played at her lips, but she kept quiet. 

With shaking hands, you opened the letter and began to read. But where you had been expecting an urge to get married, you received terrible news instead. It must have been written all over your face. 

Sehun came closer to you, his hand on your elbow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The Baron of Haeju has attacked our city,” you said quietly in a trembling voice. “My father’s knights are holding him back, but they’re asking for help.” You looked up at the Duke pleadingly. “They might not be able to win this on their own.”

“The Baron of Haeju?” the Duke echoed. He glanced over his wife before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Lady (y/n), but I can’t send my men to assist your father.”

You gaped at him. “Wasn’t the point of me coming here to unite our lands? To heal the wounds between our families? My parents are asking for help, but you’re turning your back on them already?”

“My duty is to put my own people first,” the Duke argued. 

“Father, certainly we can spare a few men,” Sehun urged.

The Duke shook his head. “No. Our relationship with the Baron has been strained far worse recently despite the amount of trade we do with his merchants. I can’t risk cutting those ties and starving our people.”

“So, you would go against the King?” you challenged. 

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“Then there’s no reason for me to stay any longer.” Turning on your feet, you stormed out of the hall with Edna. 

“(y/n)! Wait!” Sehun blocked your path to your room, desperation on his face. He grasped your shoulders in an effort to hold you down. “Please, don’t go!”

“There’s no point in my staying here,” you told him. “My people need me and your father isn’t willing to help. I came here because of an alliance, but your father isn’t holding up his end of the bargain.” Your heart was breaking. You wanted to stay with him. You were falling for him. But your own sense of duty and pride was too overwhelming to ignore. Kissing his cheek, you settled into your decision. “I’ve enjoyed every second with you and I won’t forget you. Ever. Please be happy.” Before you could let the slightest seed of doubt start to grow, you ran past him. 

Not even half an hour later, you were in a carriage and headed home. Your father needed the few knights that had accompanied you here. Behind you, what was once a promising future was fading in the distance. 

**

“How could you let her go?!” Sehun yelled as his parents stared at him indifferently. 

“Decisions like this occur all the time,” his father sighed. “When you are the protector of this land, you will understand.”

“I thought you didn’t care for this marriage?” his mother asked. 

The question made Sehun step back. “Well, I- I mean-” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Father’s made his decision.” He ran out of the Great Hall before his parents could question him further. 

In his room, he sat on the floor, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. His morning had started out so well. He’d enjoyed talking to you in the garden, the one place that seemed to make you truly happy here. Even though you were listening to him, you would stop and feel the petals of the plants between your fingers, holding the flowers gently in your palm. 

And now you were gone. 

On the mantle above the fireplace, the rose you’d given him stared at him. The edges had turned blue, just as you predicted.

Standing up, he went over to the mantle and took hold of the flower. Already, it was starting to die, to wither away. Soon, he would have to toss it. But he didn’t want to let it go. He didn’t want to let you go. 

His mind was made up. Surely, you hadn’t gone too far yet. 

Bursting out of his room, he ran to find his most trusted men. They would follow him to help save your people, he was sure of it. In the stables, he was busy saddling his horse as Jongin, Tao, and Luhan did the same around him. Others waited to join them outside. 

“You’re going after her, aren’t you?”

He didn’t look to his mother as he nodded. “I have to. I can’t let her walk into a fight. Not when I can protect her.”

“Good. You love her, I can tell. I couldn’t ask for a better outcome.”

Peeking over his shoulder, he frowned. “Did you know that would happen?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But I hoped you would open your heart to her. It tends to make these arrangements easier.”

Shaking his head, he kissed his mother’s cheek and then mounted his horse. “Let’s go!”

The group took off, galloping full speed down the road that would lead him back to you. With a lighter load, they had the advantage in catching up to you, but it would still take too long for Sehun’s liking. 

It seemed like hours had gone by and he could feel his horse growing tired. 

“Maybe we should rest,” Jongin yelled over the heavy beating of hooves against the dirt road.

As much as Sehun wanted to argue, he knew they couldn’t keep going like this. But he was granted one last miracle. Just as he was beginning to pull back on his reigns, a carriage came into view, prompting him to go faster. He recognized the coachman and the knights surrounding the carriage. It really was you. 

He pulled up alongside the carriage before overtaking it, forcing it to a stop or be responsible for a terrible collision.

“What’s going on?” Your companion, Edna, stuck her head out the window, eyes widening when she caught sight of Sehun. “Lady (y/n)!”

“What is it?” You, too, looked out the window and gasped. Pushing the door open, you jumped out while at the same time Sehun dismounted, running to you. He took you in his arms, holding you tight against his chest. “What are you doing here?” you demanded when you pushed back.

“I’m not letting you leave like this,” he declared. Then, he bent his head, connecting his lips to yours.When he pulled back, the corners of your mouth were pulling up. It made his heart warm to see you like that. “First, my men and I are going to help defend your home. And then, I’m going to marry you as promised.”

Tears pooled in your eyes that sparkled at him. “Why?”

“Because I’ve fallen for you like a petal falls from a flower.” From his tunic, he pulled out the now somewhat squished blue rose. 

“It turned blue,” you smiled. 

“Just like you said.” He swooped in for another kiss, happy to have you in his arms. He wasn’t sure if his plan to join your father’s men would work, but that was a risk he was willing to take to be with you. Only a month ago, you were the daughter of his father’s enemy. Now, you were his blue rose; unique, different, and forever close to his heart.

[scavengerbird]

A Conversation in a Car

“I know it’s cold out, but I like driving with all the windows down now. I get claustrophobic. And I kind of like the cold, actually, and I know it won’t bother you. It gets a little loud on the highway, but I think we’re mostly sticking to backroads anyway. Would this feel less weird if I had a new car, instead of the same sad scrap pile I’ve been making work since I got my license? If something about this made it feel less familiar, less like going back in time?

Oh god, am I rambling? Wow. Let’s start over.

Hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Almost five years. I’m sorry about that. I never really meant to leave for good, when I moved out of town. Or, well I guess I did, actually. But I never meant to leave you.

I was serious, you know, when I invited you to come stay with me. I think you thought I was just saying it, but I swear I meant it. My apartment’s small, and it’s got something wrong with the bathroom light that makes the bulb blow out at least once a month, and two of the burners on the stove don’t work, but I mean. Mi shitbox es tu shitbox. We’d lived out of each other’s pockets for so long, before. I really did feel like we could’ve done it again. 

But you said no. And that’s okay! You … wanted to stay here. God only knows why. I mean, I can guess, but I really hope I’m wrong, you know? It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it for so long and every time I asked you to come out and visit and you said you were sorry but you couldn’t, you always sounded like you really did regret it. You said there was shit here you had to take care of. And I always thought to myself – what shit? – like, seriously. We both know I was missing you more from the city than anyone in this stupid town would have. And I think Jan could’ve found another waitress for the diner. So, what was here that was so important? I think I never asked because I was afraid of the answer.

It’s him, isn’t it? You stayed for him.

Anyway. I could’ve gotten you a job at the coffee place I worked at when I first moved. Their coffee’s awful, but they have really good muffins. I still go in there all the time for them, so I’m still on good terms with the manager, and they’re always hiring. You could’ve done that until you figured out what you really wanted to do. Or you could’ve done that forever. I wouldn’t have judged you for it.

I think you’d like Tony. My roommate. Ok, actually you guys would probably kind of hate each other, but I think you’d have fun hating each other. You’re both kind of petty like that. And he’s gay, so there wouldn’t have been any of that pressure I know you feel around literally everyone who’s attracted to women, where you’re constantly wondering how bad they want you. 

He actually offered to come with me for this, Tony. For emotional support. I turned him down, but it was still nice of him to offer. It was kind of obvious, how anxious I was about coming home. And of course, he knew why I was coming out here. Tony knows all about you, how much you mean to me. I talk about you all the time.

I forgot how empty the roads are, out here. You’d never see a street this quiet in the city, no matter the time of night. I think it should be comforting, but it’s not. It’s unsettling. I feel like there could be a ghost around every corner.

Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.

I don’t understand the point of you staying here for him. It’s not like it was gonna make a difference to him. Nothing makes a difference to him anymore. Like, do you remember when you asked me if I believed in an afterlife? It was only a few days after… well, After. And I said my whole thing about reincarnation and the law of conservation of energy and how I think it makes sense, and you said you thought that if anything happens to us after we die, it’s got nothing to do with what happened to us in this life. You said you thought if death wasn’t just a final ending, then it was, at most, a slate wiped totally clean.

So, it’s not like you thought he was looking down on – or up at? – you. It’s not like you believed there was anything you could do to get him to forgive you. And I know you didn’t believe in any god so it’s not like you were waiting on their forgiveness either. So, whose forgiveness were you looking for? Why did you think you could find it here? Why not just put me out of my misery and come with me?

Sorry. That was a poor choice of words.

You know every single person I’ve met since moving out there has heard all about you. I don’t know how to not talk about you. You are a story I can’t stop telling, a part of every memory I have. You’re the thing I built myself around. A version of my life where I don’t meet you, or you don’t exist, is not a version of my life. It’s version of someone else’s life, because I am not me without you. The shape of myself is the shape of the hole inside you, I am just the thing filling your edges, and without those edges I have no form.

I think I’m losing the plot a little, here. I’m running out of ways to say that I need you.

And maybe I have no right to say any of that shit, when we haven’t actually seen each other in five years. I know the way your face has gotten thinner and the color you dyed your hair from pictures. I don’t know if you still wear the sweet pea spray from Bath & Body Works. You haven’t been a body I could touch in years. You’ve barely even been a voice on the other end of the phone line. I know that for the most part all we’ve had these last few years were words on a tiny screen, sent and read only in the darkest hours of night. And those messages, meaningful as they were, were sporadic. It doesn’t sound like much, like enough of a thing to be a necessity. But there’s a difference between surviving on scraps and starving to death.

            Our lives have been clinging to each other by the very tips of their fingers. I know that. But it never felt like a permanent state, to me. I always thought we’d find our ways back to each other. I didn’t call you, but I always knew I could. And now…

           Did you stay here to punish yourself? I don’t think you deserved to be punished. I mean, obviously I didn’t think that, or I would have let you turn yourself in when you wanted to.

           I can’t figure out whether or not I owe you an apology for stopping you from doing that. I thought I was saving you from yourself, but maybe I wasn’t. But what was I supposed to do? You couldn’t see yourself that night. They’d have locked you up for sure. I mean you were covered in his blood. You were still holding the knife, for God’s sake, just standing in the hall with it in one hand and my phone in the other, absolutely hysterical. Even if I hadn’t wrestled the phone away from you, what would you have said to the operator when you dialed 911? You were completely incoherent.

           I can admit now that it might have been a little dramatic of me to smash my own cell phone against the wall when you tried to get it back from me, but all things considered, I think I was holding it together pretty damn well.

           I was always good at holding it together. You were the one who was always going off the rails. But I loved that about you, most of the time. Everything was such a huge deal to you. It made life feel bigger than it was.

You made everything exciting, back then. Every petty feud with someone was an all-out war. God, remember when we egged Jenna’s car because she said that dumb thing about how you should try harder in class and stop messing around with guys? What was it? Right, that’s it, she told you if you spent half as much time studying as you did sucking dick then you’d probably get valedictorian. It was stupid, and you knew she only said it because she was jealous about Drew asking you out, and you basically told her that and I don’t even remember exactly what you said but I remember her crying. And then we still had to egg her car, and that still wasn’t enough, because you wanted to slash all her tires but I wouldn’t let you. You always wanted to take things one step too far. I always forgave you though. Every single time.

You know I can’t really remember what happened that night. It’s just kind of a blur. I remember him coming over. My parents were out of town. You weren’t supposed to be there. I mean, we hadn’t planned on it, but you wouldn’t leave when I told you he was coming over and I just let it go. I could tell he was kind of annoyed about it but he wouldn’t say anything. We’d been planning on ‘watching a movie’, but you being there meant we actually had to watch the movie. And then it’s all just flashes: a bottle of vodka, the glow of the TV in the dark room, your head on my shoulder, his hand on my arm, the room spinning – or no, shaking, because I was shaking, or being shaken, my head snapping back and forth, fast.

I know the two of you got into it. Or he and I got into it. Or we all three got into it. But I don’t know what it was about, all the words we said are gone from my memory, totally irretrievable. It’s just those flashes, and then you standing there with the blood and the knife, and him on the floor, so still.

Tony says I need a therapist. I haven’t told him about that night, obviously, but sometimes I say something I think is normal and he gives me this funny-sad look, or little things I don’t mean to talk about slip out. Like that memory gap. I didn’t tell him anything about what I can’t remember, just that there’s something, and sometimes I dream about it. I mean, I kind of had to tell him something, because I still talk in my sleep sometimes and I fell asleep on the couch one day and he heard me saying the word stop over and over. He said that it was creepy as hell, and I have repressed trauma, and gave me the name of some website where you can find shrinks online.

I have not looked for a therapist. Tony brought it up again, before I left to come back here. He said I should consider it for the sake of grief counseling, if nothing else. I told him I had a grief counselor already and his name was Jim Beam and – don’t even say anything, I know that’s terrible, I cringed at myself while I was saying it to him. Tony just shook his head and texted me the link to the stupid website.

I know it’s kind of fucked up that I don’t even fully understand why you killed him, even though I helped you bury his body. I wanted to ask you about it. I almost did, so many times. But I didn’t know how to without making it sound like I was trying to judge you. I didn’t want to bring it up again after the fact, when I knew we were both trying to bury it. There wasn’t any time to ask you anything or try to make sense of it the night it happened.

Do you even remember it that well? After I got you in the shower and turned it on cold you finally stopped crying, but you basically went catatonic. I never told you this, but that honestly freaked me out more than the corpse on my floor. You just sat on the steps, shivering in one of my sweatshirts and watching me try to clean it all up. I had to clap my hands in front of your face to get you to listen when I was asking you to help me get him up off the floor, but I couldn’t have carried him myself. Do you remember that the bedsheet I’d gotten him rolled up in was already soaked through with blood. I didn’t have anything else to wrap him in though.

You didn’t say anything until we were in the garage, and we’d gotten him in the trunk, and I was telling you that we should take him to the marshes, where the ground’s all mud and nothing that sinks down into it is ever coming back up and it’s too wet for anyone to go trekking through for fun, and you cut me off in the middle and just said I’m sorry and God, you sounded so quiet and broken and for the first time in our lives you couldn’t even look me in the eye and I –

I just… I told you to get in the car. I didn’t tell you it would be okay, or that we’d figure it out, or that I forgave you.

I do, by the way. Forgive you, I mean. For all of it, like I said a few minutes ago. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before today. I need you to know that’s the biggest regret I’ll ever have in my life, not telling you I forgave you sooner.

I really did love him, you know. I loved him and you kind of tolerated him for my sake until you didn’t, and then you killed him. You were sorry about it, and I forgave you because the way I loved him has nothing on the way I love you. He was a boy who I would’ve gone to prom with and probably broken up with two months after moving out of here and not seen again until our 10 year high school reunion, if I even bothered to show up for it. It was a moment-in-time kind of love. But you? You’re my forever bitch. I don’t care that every eight-year-old girl in the history of time has pricked her finger and stuck it to some other girl’s pricked finger and sworn to be bestest friends forever ‘til death does them part, when we did that, I fucking meant it, and now I-

I’m gonna need to stop for gas on the way back to my parents’ house. I forgot how far out the marshes are, but we’re almost there, now.

I don’t really know why I thought it would be a good idea to come out here. When I first got in the car, I thought I was gonna head out to the overpass, the one they told me you crashed under. But then I turned left instead of right. I don’t know, I guess I felt like, if any part of you was still around, it wouldn’t be hanging out on the edge of some lonely stretch of highway. I felt like you’d be out here, haunting the thing that never stopped haunting you.

Don’t worry. I’m not crazy enough to go traipsing through the marshes in the dark to hunt down a ghost. I just want to see them, park my car where I parked it that night, at the edge. The last time I really and truly had you all the way with me.

I don’t know now, if I was right about where to find you. I’ve been talking to you this whole time we’ve been driving, and I swear I can feel you here listening. I swear I can hear your voice. Maybe you’re just haunting me.

Oh. There they are. We can’t stay long. I’ve got your funeral in the morning.”

[mitchmarnier]

why do you hate stranger things 3 so much?

Okay so it’s been a year but I’ll admit, I still don’t think I’ve ever been REALLY able to express what it is about the third season of Stranger Things that just made it so-bad but I’m gonna try. Like short answer? For a show that got it’s whole thing from the importance of family and friends, season 3 shoved all of that aside for poorly written romantic relationships. Long answer?

There’s many things but I think that the biggest thing is that even with a pretty decent “main plot” Stranger Things 3 started off almost immediately from the get out with no chance of actually being good, because right away none of these characters were still in character with who we fell in love with, you know?

Joyce Byers, who at a serious base of her character, was an amazing and extremely dedicated mother spending seven out of eight episodes seperated and unconcerned about her children even when she’s suspicious that something was going on. Her kids don’t reach out to her either, even when the literal world seems to be ending around them which is very weird for both Will and Jonathan who are super super aware of how vital and active Joyce has always been in this fight and they don’t even wonder out loud for second why she isn’t there.

And Mike- oh, Mike, sweeties, my dude, I am so sorry- has, sure, always been kind of a little prick. Very stubborn and kind of struggles to see things from other people’s point of view but there was so much more to Mike Wheeler than having a crush on El. Something just does not sit right with me that I’m supposed to believe that Mike threw down on sight for the entire first season for El’s right to be considered a friend to Lucas and Dustin and then apparently, basically, actively took part in the season three concept that she.... didn’t have any friends, and wasn’t friends with anybody except him, and that she never actually became friends with Dustin or Lucas after Mike fought them so goddamn hard about it. It doesn’t make sense! AND NOT TO MENTION, that Mike sent two seasons- two- with an obvious view that saving Will or protecting Will was the most important thing to him and it still took what like? Four episodes for Mike to realize that something was wrong with Will and even then he continuously undercut it and I don’t know who that was but it wasn’t my Mike Wheeler.

LUCAS WOULDN’T BE LIKE THAT. Aside from the whole weird thing where they set up Lucas and Max has been an actually great relationship and then they brought back that season with a showcase that Lucas and Max basically break up once a week and fight continuously to the point where they both think that’s the most normal thing in the world.I just think that- and I know I’m not the only one- is that I am glad that we got a call back to the season one throwaway line that Mike and Lucas are best friends because outside of Dustin saying that, we never really saw it. Lucas seemed to really have little to no patience for Mike at any given point, and I get that, I totally get that. Like, season one they had the same goal- save Will- but they both wanted to go about it in a completely different way (i.e Lucas didn’t really want to waste time on the girl with the superpowers they found in the woods, because he thought their time would be better spent actually looking for Will) and then in season two, Mike runs around being a total dick to the girl Lucas likes and fucks off in end of episode four without word about it and has progressively tried to keep Lucas and Dustin from what’s going on with Will for the most point (because he doesn't trust Max and he was right in believing that Dustin or Lucas would tell this total stranger about Will’s trauma.) and I totally digressed here, but because I was glad to see Lucas and Mike being friends in season three, the concept was highlight they just- went about it so so wrong. Because Lucas has never been shy about telling his friends- and especially Mike- that they’re being fucking idiots. I cannot imagine Lucas actually encouraging Mike to pursue this crack scheme of chasing after El post-break up. Especially not the way it went down, which Mike immediately accepts that El has dump him and it’s over and then Lucas convinces him that it’s not. It very much does hold roots in the poor writing of the Lu/Max relationship this season, but Lu/Max was written the way it was so that they could have Lucas in Mike’s corner and Max in El’s corner to validate and uplift the horrible Mi/leven relationship arc this season in which Lucas for sure would not be in that spot whatsoever if it wasn’t for the poor writing of Mi/leven since the second they left the Snowball. Lu/Max is very much a support piece in Mi/leven rather than its own relationship, and yet Max continues to get her own storyline this season (as... yeah... as that storyline was) but Lucas became a casualty to Mi/leven this year, and only slightly differently to the way Will has been a casualty to Mi/leven... and Mike has been a casualty to Mi/leven. If your main relationship continues to assassinate and rip dry the characters both inside and around it, then it’s really time to take a step away from that relationship and determine if its working or if you just suck at writing for no foreseeable reason.

And like, I guess it’s fair to talk about Max here since it’ll be any easy transition in the sense that- Max Mayfield a casualty to Mi/leven. Like that meme with the people holding hands and it says “my character survived the Mi/leven relationship of 1985” and its Max Mayfield and Dustin Henderson. NOT TO SAY that Max’s character isn’t all over the board, it is a lot harder to decide what Max would or wouldn’t do regarding Mike and El. Because.... we never saw anything with the Max/El relationship outside of Max wanted to know her, and El absolutely wanting nothing to do with that because Mike smiled at her one time and El saw it. Mike and Max is actually a different story, and the more complicated relationship I guess? El/Max was good, even if I didn’t agree with all of the advice that Max gives El (particularly the we make our own rules concept, I fucking hated that and I’ll get there. Oh, I’ll get there.) BECAUSE Mike and Max are just... the Sharpay and Gabriella of Stranger Things. They feud all season for whatever reason, they make up and find common ground at the end, and then it starts back up and they hate each other with no explanation to the understanding that they found. And it wasn’t funny, there wasn’t anything about their rivalry that was funny or amusing or even really served a purpose outside of the fact that they needed to showcase the whole Lu/Max and Mi/leven crap so Mike and Max could be friends because the couples needed to be against each other so Max already needed to hate Mike prior to El coming to her for advice, and therefore the rekindling of their potential friendship at the end of season two was re’cont for that purpose. And it really wasn’t necessary because Max would have had enough going on without being in the middle of the weird Mi/leven break up, and losing her boyfriend. I think a huge like, obvious issue with Max is that season two Max left a lot to be desired. Understandably, season two was a lot bigger than the Duffers had time for so they ended introducing characters (Billy and Max) that we didn’t get to develop in their introductory season enough that where they ended up in season 3 was logical or sensical at all because Billy did nothing except be an evil piece of shit two years until the end where he decides to stop himself from killing this little 13 year old white girl and dies and suddenly he’s a hero who sacrificed himself for the greater good when he really didn’t. And seeing Max horrified and traumatized to him does make sense to an extent, she has known him and lived with him for a large chunk of her life and seeing that happen to anybody would be traumatizing. And people don’t get to determine how someone would react to their abuser dying, because you are not that person and you are experiencing what they are experiencing. HOWEVER, Max did not receive enough explanation from a writer or viewers’ POV for her defending Billy or believing Billy could be good to make sense when she spent almost all of season two avoiding her relationship with Lucas because she knew that Billy was racist and violent and horrible. Max grieving and being traumatized over Billy’s death and quite literally seeing his body, but her actions up to that point didn’t make much sense because not enough writing went into Max as a character since the beginning because she is a victim of the classic Too Many Characters, Not Enough Screen Time to Share.

Ha. The relationship between El and Will really needs to be it’s own point before I even get into them as characters. It’s so... It doesn’t make any sense to me why Will and El are like that. And I guess it does or it can trace back to Mi/leven. The idea that Mike purposely kept El from having any friends and Will would have been a victim of that, and the fact that Will very obviously likes Mike and that showcases in him... not like El??? because they’re dating. But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to believe that Will and El don’t have a connection? El saved Will’s life t w i c e and I’m supposed to believe that he hates her because she’s dating Mike and therefore that doesn’t matter to him and he calls her by a number instead of a name and he overly just seems extremely indifferent towards her at best. But I actually do believe, the lack of an Will & El dynamic is (besides being a totally missed opportunity) was like... blank brained of the writers, I think they genuinely just didn’t think about it because they were really caught up in the relationship drama this season they just didn’t bother to develop El and Will. Which is dumb, because of the whole “we’re supposed to believe that Hopper & Joyce are a good ship” but also supposed to believe that Will and El have never spent any time together AND THEY KNEW THAT THEY WOULD BE L I V I N G TOGETHER at the end of the season and they still nothing to give them any relationship growth at all, and if anything took away what little potential hits of a dynamic they had from the first two seasons. For the sake of what does not sort of look like a queerbait of Mike/Will OR best case scenario (still bad!) a love triangle between the three characters.

For a show that had two seasons dedicated to the importance of Will Byers, it was kind of weird to see him so shoved aside this time around. And this isn’t to take away from El’s importance. It’s not an argument over her being the main character- although I think it’s important to note that they original plan for this show was for her to die in season one, and while I’m glad she’s alive and they changed that, we can’t deny how that decision itself would completely alter the path every single character (especially characters like Mike and Will in particular) would have made. BUT FACTS ARE, this entire show started because of Will. That is something that cannot be argued. The Vanishing of Will Byers was the kick off of this entire thing, and every single main character aside from possibly Steve Harrington, are in this fight because of Will Byers. Not because of El. And yes, El is most definitely the ~stranger thing~ and the titular character of the show, it’s fucking ludicris to try and imply that Will is not pretty much as just as important as El. And so for season three to undercut everything about that and use Will as detection device (that only gave you about 15 seconds warning) and have his actual emotional storyline dropped in the 4th episode and only come up again in the sense of refusing to even hear apologies from Lucas or Mike, is the epitome of bullshit.

I’m just going to start off here by saying, I like El, I do. BUT- I’m very aware that El is a victim of her surroundings. She doesn’t have much of her own personality, she has from the beginning allowed herself to simply accept what other people tell her and do that. Say that, repeat it. The Best Time for El as a character was with Kali and her deepest moment of like, personal reflection is when she said no to going with Kali because she needed to go back to Hawkins and save her friends. That really set up a lot of really good growth for El, the idea she was becoming her own person and that she could move forward as herself, who she is, who she wants to be. And I understand the trauma behind her and why she has such an unstable sense of self but it was still disappointing to watch her revert back to following by example in her personal life while continuously forced to be seen as leader in any situation. She follows Mike’s example in the beginning, with Hopper and being super obnoxious but she’s also very quick to jump back over to Hopper’s side when addressing Mike later and burshing off what he’s trying to tell her (i.e your father threatened my life and I didn’t know how to proceed from that point and I’m sorry I lied to you) and she also word for word quotes Max a lot. Including situations which the boy she’s supposedly in love with expresses his discomfort in her. When El reveals that she’s gone into the the void and watched the boys doing whatever, Mike quickly jumps to point out that those were “against the rules” aka personal boundaries that have obviously been set between Mike and El for a reason and she shoots back that she makes her own rules, like Max said about a pretty different situation nonetheless, and invalidates what Mike is trying to say in that moment again. It also doesn’t really sit right with me that she plays dumb with Mike in that grocery store will he is clearly having trouble declaring love for her (which says a lot about how Mike feels) and then bringing it back up three months later, and using it as a justification for kissing him and declaring love towards him after he has said he didnt even remember the conversation she’s referencing from three months earlier and she does not say “I love you” she says “I love you, too.” Which is so very different, because it is her literally acknowledging that she sat there and played dumb (not didn’t understand, which is totally different, but did understand and wanted and enjoyed him struggling to say something) and they threw it back at him as a validation of their relationship- yet it was something he was unable to say to her. I think a big issue with El, is that she has somehow become somebody above being criticized for her actions. What was wrong with Mi/leven this season is not 100% an issue with Mike Wheeler, El very much had a hand in that destruction and with how the season ended, I don’t doubt that she was will  have an even larger hand in the problems going forward because El is smart, and she understands shit, but she pretends that she doesn’t when it’s works for her. Being around Hopper and to even greater extent, the things she lived through in the lab, El is very aware of how to manipulate people and it’s a behaviour she is going to have to unlearn. She might not even be completely aware of just how wrong it is but nobody is going to tell her what she’s doing because I don’t even think it’s realized that she’s doing it and fandom itself chooses to ignore that she’s done it.

And I don’t know how a show that could create the iconic character growth of Steve Harrington is also writing all these other character development blunders, full stop.

[writingonesdreams]

Between Spirits and Humans p.2

Part 1

Genres: apocalyptic | fantasy | romance | drama | slice of life | magic | dragons

Setting: An alternate apocalyptic world ruled by magical beings, where humans are almost extinct. The earth is tired, dark and dry and the only liveable places are the forests controlled by rather unfriendly spirits.

Synopsis: Two sisters, trying to survive, stumble on a grumpy but almighty shape-shifting spirit. Their meeting might save the dying world they share.

Themes: torn between worlds | apathetic spirit like dragons | human capacity for feelings | magic | learning from each other | healing a dying world

After his fight with Acacia he was at a loss of what to do. He wasn’t sure how humans mended their conflicts. Spirits fought their feuds out or ignored them for a couple of centuries until they faded into nothingness. None of those would work with her for obvious reasons.

Besides he wasn’t sure he wanted to reconcile. He wasn’t in the wrong after all.

Yet he felt this weird pressure in his chest and the tension in the air he really didn’t want to think too much about. They were in his forest, so they should at least have the decency not to be angry with him, right?

Kye avoided them for a couple of days, confused by the responses of his human body. By the emotions that weren’t all that pleasant anymore. Between his desire to see them and his resolution not to until...he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

But their absence in his days weighted on him in a particular way, one he was very much not used to feeling. To escape, he took on one of his favourite raven forms. Small animal with smaller scale of emotional perception - just instincts and images he could lose himself in, forget what his much more advanced mind wanted to think about.

Maybe that was why he didn’t question where his wings carried him. He perched on trees that grew closer and closer until he found himself on a familiar clearing.

“Look, sister, who came!” The younger girl’s voice sounded close.

And so happy, welcoming.

“Oh great.”

The older girl’s voice was more...annoyed? The raven’s mind didn’t distinguish between tones that well.

Flopping down from the tree, he hopped warily nearer. His instincts were telling him to go, to follow the call to draw closer.

Reaching the soft blanket where the girls were sitting, turned his head sideways, clapping his beak in curiosity.

“Kye! We didn’t see you in so long. How have you been?”

He didn’t understand everything about that sentence, but the warmth of it sickered through, so he hopped to her, until he was perched on her knee. Her small clumsy hands went right to his features, stroking him in a obtrusive but not entirely unpleasant way.

He lost himself in this moment, thankful his human form wasn’t around to feel all the complexity of the situation. Skipping from one leg to the next, croaking on occasion as the girls talked, their stances relaxed, he felt comfort and sense of rightness he dearly missed.

Until he found himself sitting in Acacia’s lap, wings fluttering and croaking until she dived her fingers into his thick black feathers.

“This is a weird way to apologize, you know.” She said, but her tone was softer than before. He didn’t want to ponder who was supposed to apologize to whom anymore.

The beauty of the raven’s mind was not to question things, when they felt right.

###

Acacia has taken to show him other human creations. Books she carried with her despite their weight, poetry on pages so old they could fall apart any minute. So fragile, all these creations. So diverse in their expression, in the art.

She told him about her favourite songs, the ones she learned from her mother or heard in passing a village. Told him about old legends and famous stories about beats and demons from forests, about princes and princess and magic.

Kye realized even more now she loved the human world. Or maybe she was fascinated by everything, her mind open, her eyes curious if not as wide as her sister’s. Not as naive.

There was darkness sometimes, lurking in the corners, memories she resented or suppressed. Human world wasn’t all beauty after all.

But then, the spirit world wasn’t either.

###

“You want to do what now?”

“Stop being so dramatic. We haven’t gathered for four centuries now, it isn’t a bad time.”

“Well, yes but...you always insist that visiting and gathering has to have a purpose and a problem to solve. Excuse me, for being surprised.”  

“I would have excused you being more excited.”

Wes grinned at that. “I am. If for nothing else, then for the shock of your brothers, when I tell them of the invitation.”

His brothers. He didn’t see them for so long now. All grown up dragons with scales in various rich dark shades. Kye didn’t feel anything special about having them, their existence was something to be accepted not felt. But after spending so much time with the sisters, he was curious about seeing them again. How it might feel different this time.

“Your perspective changed. And they always followed your lead.”

Kye nodded at the white spirit. He was the oldest of his clan, so it was only logical. If there were any implications to this, they both omitted to elaborate.

###

“You really have to try this.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Acacia held her arms stretched open to him. “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”

She has lately got into the habit of educating him into more and more of human habits and rituals. Kye was sure she was scheming something again.

Reluctantly he stretched his amrs to the stubborn human girl with shiny hair and eyes sparkling with mirth. Nike sat down opposite them as if something really magnificent was about to happen.

Acacia guided one of his hands on her shoulder and the other on her waist. She brought them so close his breath hitched in his chest in shock.

Then her lips parted and she started to sing. Softly at first as she made the first step, leading him into the unfamiliar movement, but bolder when he followed. The melody he knew from listening to her and Nike when at night, but never heard as a whole, never so loud and clear. It was melodic, filled with vigour and little gentler passages. Lively and yet thoughtful, nostalgic about a world that once was and how it could be again.

Kye didn’t take long to recognize the repetitive patterns in the steps – he would know what to do the next time.

###

„You want to leave?“

„No! Of course not.“ she cleared her throat, stringing her hands together in uncharacteristic gesture. „Leaving sounds so fatal. I just want a little visit.“

He wasn’t sure what to think of that. „But the conclave is in a few days.“ Kye was looking forward to it, to introducing them, to showing her spirits could be welcoming too. If she wasn’t there to see it, why was he doing it again?

„We would be back by then.“

He turned his gaze sharply towards her in time to see her snicker at him.

WE. Acacia wanted him to come with her. The tightness in his chest loosened at the realization, but he still frowned at her.

„Spirits don’t fare well with human settlements.“

„You won’t go there as a spirit either.“ Her whole face was brightening at this point, in a flare he found hard to resist.

„And who will watch over Nike?“

„Wes offered himself.“ Kye glared at the general direction of the white dragon spirit’s territory as if he could feel his annoyance through the trees. When did these two get acquainted? He couldn’t picture a more troublesome combination.

“Come on, it will be fun! I haven’t seen any people in so long! And I want to show you all the cool stuff humans can do – songs played on instruments, carvings into clay instead of wood, all the things that can be done with metal…”

Their desires mirrored each other. He understood then, and maybe that’s what decided for him.

###

Being outside of his forest felt wrong to him. Leaving the safety of the trees, of the familiar borders and his trademark magic covering everything, he felt strangely exposed and disconnected. He wouldn’t have gotten very far if Acacia wasn’t holding his hand.

Kye tried not to let it show in light of her triumph as she resolutely dragged him in the direction, where land turned from green to colorful and trees grew in formations instead of natural distances.

There were very little humans left, but they still left their touch on the earth however they could. Cultivating their fields, planting plants for food, shade and cover.

The houses in the village were tightly hanging on each other for support and the amount of smoke was rare – as if not all households could afford it. The streets were dusty and humans on them were sickly and ragged. Kye thought he knew how humans differed from spirits by watching the sisters for so long, but Acacia stood out even here.

The spring in her step and delight in her face were hard to miss, drawing attention.

Maybe too much attention.

The human that jumped at them from behind the bridge is quick and unhesitant, with a knife pointed at her back. Kye reacted before he thought, catching his hand, the knife falling from the thief’s grasp.

The thief cried out, furry and redness in his eyes. 

Even for survival they act on emotion. This wasn’t a cold-blooded calculated attack. Acacia wasn’t richly dressed or carrying anything of much worth. And yet he jumped, reacting to strength, spark and life.

Kye felt pity for the poor creature for charging to such wasteful death. For not being able to put the danger together, when reaching for something that wasn’t his to take.

The thief wailed as the crushing pain of his hand brought him to his knees. 

Acacia reached for him then, touching his shoulder lightly. “It’s okay. Please don’t hurt him.”

Now that was logic he didn’t even remotely understand. When someone attacked something precious of yours, you had to put him in his place. You had to attack back, or they wouldn’t stop coming.

And this man knew the rules when he jumped, Kye was sure.

But Acacia’s eyes were bleeding with emotion, so the spirit let him go.

###

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, looking away.

Kye chuckled at that. “He attacked you and you apologize to me?”

“That you had to see that side. They are desperate and poor, many have to go for months without feeling properly seated.” She didn’t disown them, no matter how much they betray or hurt her. He wondered about that, this loyalty, this compassion.

“I’m glad I went. Makes me feel a bit closer to you.”

She raised her head to him in question.

“We are more similar than I thought. Territory, survival, power – you also fight for those between each other.” Acacia looked away again, her face contorting. 

“We have done that for centuries until there was too much land to divide. We have fallen into a truce, but we have given up on many things you humans cling to.” He thinks of the hatred in the thief’s eyes. It wasn’t to steal food, it was to steal what little brightness he saw.

Irrational. 

A spirit would never act on such a reason. Never would have let an emotion like that creep in. Wouldn’t have felt anything.

He looked at the bright girl at his side.

A regular sprit wouldn’t have known what to be jealous of.

###

Seeing all the spirits that came scowling and glaring, if he really didn’t have anything better to do than wake them up from their slumbers was surprisingly funny.

They were all suspicious. They all questioned. What was going on?

But none dared to say anything on Kye’s territory. The oldest black dragon was the strongest in his forest, and they couldn’t compare in power, age or experience.

But Kye didn’t see them in just those terms only anymore. They weren’t just threats or annoyances. They were all similar, living, breathing, wondering what they should do with all the time they have been given. And he found himself feeling for them.

Especially the youngest of his brothers, Hec, only few centuries old, looked like a child. Reminded him of Nike so bad and yet he didn’t know how to reach out to him, how to bridge the years of ignorance. Something had to be done differently to change this.

So he did what he felt like doing instead of what he thought.  

He brought Acacia to the conclave. Nike hanging right on her toes. If the spirits weren’t scandalized enough before, they were now. Humans on a spirit conclave, the audacity.

When he stopped to introduce Nike to Hec and the little girl eyed the grim looking spirit with a child’s face, he could see a range of emotions – from shock to disturbance to frustration to wonder and curiousity. It felt somehow right.

And when he took Acacia’s hand and danced with her the way she taught him, no one even dared to breathe. If they wanted to protest, the sight of Wes silenced them. The white dragon spirit was the only other one measureable in size with the black one. And he was grinning, his approval given.

Kye danced and dared and smiled that day, amused and shaken and somehow hopeful, seeing all the movement at play.

###

She was surprised how at home she felt with them. In their human forms they didn’t feel so foreign, even though she felt the pressure of their presence as something tangible in the air.

In Kye’s arms though she felt secure and her curiosity won over her fear. The spirits could be so human when they wanted. Maybe they weren’t so different after all, just like Kye said.

Or maybe she was changing.

Wondering past the forest borders the next day, Acacia tried to analyze every face and voice from the conclave, burn it into her memory. It was special even if it was so tense and quite.  She enjoyed it, didn’t feel out of place. How was that possible?

At first the forest has been about survival, but it grew into a home and she loved everything and everyone in it. It was the opposite with the human village she visited last time – the reek of desperation and spiteful anger felt so foreign and wrong to her now. She should have moved on long ago, should have struggled, cast away bit more of her consciousness and ideals to keep a child safe. Was it alright if Nike didn’t grow up among her own?

But what would she lose, really? She would have had to change, transform beyond her age and innocence. Adapted to the challenges of the human world. Or died. Neither sounded appealing.

Seeing her play with the spirit boy, even if he was a another kind of being with a completely different age and maturity – it was heartwarming. If Nike could play and smile like this and grow up safely, what was the harm?

Maybe she shouldn’t have to feel to guilty for wanting to stay.

When she felt insecure and torn like this, Acacia wanted to be alone. To escape the forest’s constant surveillance, the possibility of never being lonely, to sort herself out. So she kneeled down in the middle of the thin wilted sunflower field and sang.

Sang her heart out, stringing words together as they came to her, melodies she invented on the spot or combined from the old she knew.

She closed her eyes and spoke her soul to the earth.

When she opened them the sunflowers surrounded her. They grew! Grew higher than her, thickly around her, as if wanting to drink more of her voice.

The joy of such a miracle mixing with disbelief she ran through the field and tried again. Everywhere she touched, melody on her lips, the flowers responded, raised, reached out to the sky to meet her.

She felt the tears as she run and sang until she couldn’t find her voice anymore.

###

“How? How is this possible?” Kye was pacing around in circles by the boarders. He kept his voice low the whole day, pretended to be calm and knowing when the girls asked him for an explanation. But at night he needed to talk and Wes was always there to listen.

“She has been around you a lot. Your magic sickers into everything inside the forest. Doesn’t it make sense it lingers on them too?”

“But she is human! Having spirit magic…”

“Many things have changed with your meeting, Kye. She woke you up. You gathered the spirits. Now they are moving, visiting, restless to be doing something again after centuries of monotony. You two break the rules all the time,” the light haired spirit chuckled, “not that I am complaining.”

Kye stopped then, leaning his hand on a tree bark, feeling light-headed. “But her humanity…”

“Has influenced you as well. You are going by a name now. You invite your brothers for gatherings and play with kids. You have become so very human yourself.”

“But I can’t be more human than this.” The power of a spirit of his caliber would be too much for a human form to contain. He could shift forms, but he needed to be himself as well, needed to use all the magic bursting out of him. They both knew it. “I can’t be with her that way,” the black dragon whispered, the thought too painful to say out loud.

The white dragon spirit eyed him in concern, before replying.  

“She will have her own choice to make.”

###

Kye explained to her the best he could. That they have affected each other, how his magic sank into her, made her more like him every day. Every touch and every step closed between them made her less human.

Acacia wasn’t angry or sad. She rejoyced at this power to sing life into things. All the things she could do with it as she got stronger! To call for rain for the dry lands, for warmth to return where dragon magic didn’t reach.

Selfless and emotional as always. It never stopped amazing him.

He lingered by the tent the girls set up for themselves in the coming autumn. Inside he was relieved she didn’t resent him, didn’t reject being closer to him.

And then he heard the crying. “You will leave me! You are going to leave me behind and become a spirit to be with Kye!”

The words pierced through him like an arrow.

“No! Of course not, Nike! I’m your big sister, alright?” Acacia’s voice broke as she shuffled, reaching for the smaller shadow. “I won’t leave you. Everything I have been doing was to protect you.”

“How will your stupid magic help me?”

“When the world gets warmer, it will get safer to live in too. People are capable of horrible things when they are unhappy. But the more content they are, the kinder they become. This is a miracle, Nike.”

“No, this is your excuse! If you did only what was good for me, we would have left months ago! But you stay for him. And you will abandon me for him.”

Nike hiccupped and moaned and Acacia hugged her tightly, her own voice shaking. “I won’t leave you,” she promised.

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Kye sank to his knees behind the tent and felt like crying himself. He could never ask that – never could he see the sisters separated.  

###

Years went by.

When the spirits woke up, they stirred the energy and magic around. The world started to wake up, taking deep breaths in a long awaited age of spring.

Nike let her coat slide open, smiling to herself. She traveled from village to village, singing to nature, reading from hands of people that grew stronger with the blooming fields. Never did she forget to visit the forests as well, many dear friends among the dragon spirits playing there.

She wasn’t scared – she was a grown woman after all. And she had a role to fill behind the witch that could sing nature to life before her.

The first witch that bridged the gap between humans and spirits. It’s her favorite tale to tell it.

How her big sister fell in love with a sleeping dragon. How they learned from each other, helping to heal their world back to life.

It’s a great story. She was there.

When they ask where her sister is, she tells them she is with the spirits now.

They look at her ruefully. Talking in past tense, like she is gone.

But Nike knows better. Acacia was always there for her, until Nike grew strong enough not to need her anymore.

Having a spirit for a sister isn’t so bad, when she is alive and well.

Nike knows and forges on, with peace and love in her heart. The world is hers to take.

[cherishedkids]

a letter to kamado tanjiro || tanjiro x reader

anime: kimetsu no yaiba warning/s: angst, sad, a bit of spoilers, mentions of death and bloodshed words: 1,679 pairing/s: tanjiro kamado x reader summary: A traveller and his sister once stopped by your tea shop years ago. The memories you shared with him stayed with you even after he had to leave. This is the last and only letter you leave him.

A/N: i’m actually thinking of continuing this in tanjiro’s perspective.... but idk! i hope this letter format is understandable huhu

To my dearest traveller,

I do not mean for you to worry, but I feel that my death may be imminent. So even if you receive this letter, I doubt you have enough time to rush to the small countryside of Fujinomiya to save me. Before I leave this world, however, I still wanted to talk to you one last time, even though I know it has been years since.

If you are wondering, yes, I still am living in that shabby tea shop you visited… so many years ago. I believe it was when we were still living in the Taisho era, before the Showa era. Back when times were peaceful and we did not have to endure this… pointless war of egos. I truly hope you and your sister have stayed safe all this time. When you visited me, she was very young and cute. I hope that hasn’t changed since then.

Mt. Fuji looms before me, as the sun is slowly rising and climbing over it. The stillness of the air reminds me of my fate, and I hope you still remember me. I still do. You have left such a huge impact on me, that I almost cursed you. The stars in the night sky that are visible here remind me so much of you. When I go to burn wood for warmth during winter, I see the burning passion in your eyes staring back at me. Even when I go to hang my wet yukata, the cloth billowing in the air reminds me of your checkered haori. Everywhere I go, I could attribute to you. You just had left a mark on everything. I just wish I could see your smile one last time.

You stayed here for a few days. You told me it reminded you so much of the small village you used to visit when you still lived in the mountains, before you left to show your little sister the world. I could see the pain in your eyes when you said that, and from the scars that littered your arms, I knew how much you had to go through to be happy with her. 

Nezuko, if memory serves right, loved the hot spring behind my shop. It was her first time to bathe in one, and you asked me if I could accompany her. I did, and we had a grand time. I remember just how much I looked forward to spending more time in your company. Just the smile that you gave me was enough to satisfy me.

Through the days, more and more customers visited my little shop. I had to attend to them, of course, and the both of you did your best to help me. Even though it did lead to spilled hot tea and my dango mochi looking unformed, you still tried to help. Until now, I still do not know why my eye caught the both of you. Why did I ask you to stay for the week? And why did you ever accept? Because of this, I have been longing for you all these years. I cannot help but blame myself.

Perhaps it was because of the blade you were carrying. There were only a few samurai that were still roaming around, and I had always been curious since I was young. I think it was because you both had caused such a commotion when you arrived. Outside my tea shop, a fight was going on with a drunkard and a homeless man. But you butted in to stop it, saying that it was wrong. I exited the shop and saw the both of you, standing in the sun. When you came in, I was just so inspired that I gave you free tea and dango, which you kindly accepted.

Maybe the reason I will soon be leaving this mortal world is because of my morbid curiosity--the longing to know everything. I will try not to say much about the people who will be coming for me. I do not want any bloodshed to happen even after I die. It is my only wish and gift to the world. In their place, I will die. That way, there is less death. It is better this way.

As more days passed, you confided in me about a war that you partook in. It was different from the wars now, you explained. It was bloodier, and the trail ran longer back in the past, and blood had already dried out. For four hellish years, you had to live through it, and everyday was a struggle for you. Numerous times, you had faced death, and there were days you thought you were going to die. 

I can still remember the hurt in your eyes as you relived the countless deaths of your allies. Just the both of you surviving was a miracle, you said. When I looked at Nezuko, I wondered how such innocent eyes were able to witness death in the eyes and still held bravery to continue on.

But the warm smile you gave me when you said that you and numerous of your allies had defeated the supposed demon was enough to reassure me. When you were alone in your makeshift room that was actually a storage area, I saw you holding up a black uniform. I was passing by, and I read the words ‘destroy’ on it. Was that the uniform you had to wear while you were fighting the war? I ask, as if you’d ever actually reply. Forget that.

In exchange for the stories you told me about your life, I told you about the legends and the history of my family. I don’t know if you still remember, but I told you about my grandfather all those years ago. He was also a samurai, like you. Our bloodline was also wrought with clashing blades and untimely deaths, and I soon came to learn. Love and hate intertwine, and I realised it wasn’t just looks that parents pass on, but also conflicts and feuds. But it is too late to change that now.

That night… Do you remember? I’d hate to bring back memories that meant nothing to you, but this one did to me. Under the prying eye of the moon, and below the dirt palace of Mt. Fuji, you pressed your lips to mine. I wished a second lasted longer. I remember each and every touch. Your hand held mine dearly, and your body was hot as you took me in your arms. It had to end though, but I really thought you were going to stay. I tried pretending for the longest time that I was just dreaming. I did my best, you have to believe me. But it was all for naught. Your memory kept coming back to me, in the most mundane things. This dream turned to a nightmare. A reminder of the best thing I ever had, slipping away from my grasp.

It was a big world, and it still is, but you were on your own journey. The next day, you had to leave to show your sister the rest of Japan. To give her all the things you weren’t able to give to your other siblings. Was I a fool to listen to your hollow words that you were to return as soon as you travelled the country? Or do I just have enough faith in you to keep your word? But I already know I ended up being a fool.

I heard from the others about a counselor in Edo that looked like you. Watanabe Hitoka told me of this certain man’s striking red eyes and slicked black hair with burgundy tips. The scar on his forehead reminded him so much of the traveller that had visited here an era ago. Then I knew, I was a fool. Kamado was his last name, Watanabe recounted. I just hope that I left an impact on you, the same way you left sorrow on my soul when I heard this. Even so, you were able to make me happy, even if it only lasted a couple of days, and even if the pain still stayed and stung me for years to come.

My tea shop is the only familiar thing in my street. The buildings have been through everything, and as time goes by, so do the inhabitants. The young people that used to eat and drink here already have their own family, some have died, and some have been born. I think I am the only one refusing to yield to time. So much so that it has caught up to me, in the form of my ancestor’s debts.

Travellers like you have also stopped by here numerous times. Their tales and legends could never hold a candle to yours, but the ones about war never cease to surprise me. Just how harsh was the battlefield? Were you also caught up in the political hell that is Edo at the moment? I hope not. I’d hate to see you be eaten up by greed and power. I know your sweet soul would never yield, but what did I know? A few weeks together and I knew who you were? Impossible. The men disappear, but the cherry blossoms continue to grow and bloom. These were the only constants in my life. Tea, dango, cherry blossoms. 

I still hope that you returned. Maybe I would not be so miserable, but family came first, I understand that. I confess, I still am holding out a bit of yearning that you’d show up and save me from the hot water I suddenly find myself in. But that only happens in tales, stories like you told me. And I didn’t live in one.

I hope to see you soon, Kamado Tanjiro. Even if it is just in my dreams. But if we end up seeing each other in the afterlife, I hope that I still have to wait a long time before that.

Yours forever,

______ ____

[shasta-reese]

so...just watched Tiger King

Initially wasn’t gonna watch it but literally saw the name everywhere and I caved to see what the hype was about. This is going to be an extremely long post since I will be giving my thoughts on the entire docu-series, so if you like reading thorough reviews, welcome but if not this ain’t for you. This won’t be in chronological order but just whatever comes to my mind first. 

After finishing it, naturally I went on social media to see what people opinions were. And I. Was Baffled. To see that some people are saying that Joe Exotic should be out of jail is fucking insane. Like yeah I could maybe see why people say he was framed and was kinda set up by Jeff Lowe for the murder-for-hire. But are people literally forgetting about the other charges he had like i don’t know ANIMAL ABUSE. Like come on people, okay fine people argue saying her never physically abuse them but it’s quite clear that he did not have proper enclosures for those animals. Tigers are largely solitary animals, and he placed multiple tigers into a single enclosure that was barely enough for one tiger. That is still a mistreatment of animals. 

And then we find out about the WalMart expired meat, which sure animal stomachs can handle some slightly expired meat sure but you cannot say that it’s right to feed them that. Let’s not forget that he was also using that meat to serve to people. 

Next up we have the obvious manipulation of his apparent husbands. I can’t say much for Dillon (the current husband). But it was so obvious that he was controlling Travis and John in some kind of way. They were both so young and addicted to drugs and Joe clearly saw that as an opportunity, and basically kept them from leaving by giving them gifts and drugs. 

Just the entire tiger breeding part was just hard to watch for me. They literally show us that Joe took a newborn tiger from its mother. HOW ARE THERE NOT MORE PEOPLE UPSET THAT HE RIPPED CUBS FROM THEIR MOTHER MINUTES AFTER BIRTH! Yes, tigers are endangered. Yes, they should breed to be able to keep the species alive. BUT Joe exotic is not qualified and does not have the knowledge of proper animal conservation to be breeding tigers! He is breeding them to make a profit by cub petting, and selling them to be pets (which they are not).

I personally cannot find any redeemable qualities in Joe Exotic. Maybe he did actually care for the animals and truly loves animals but he got too caught up in the money and fame, completely throwing what he initially wanted to do. And to his credit he did have a moment of self-awareness when he was talking about the chimpanzees that were relocated. But even then he still did what he did and now he’s paying the price. He also made his mother sign documents that she didn’t even know what the contents were and got her dragged into his legal messes which is just fucked up.

I don’t think it’s possible for me to put every single thought I have into one post so I’ll try to give a brief summary of the main characters at least.

Jeff Lowe is an obvious con artist that scams people into thinking he has money but clearly doesn’t. He is absolute scum. yeah just scum. Just seeing his face just makes me wanna punch him. He has a very punchable face.

Antle is somehow worse that almost everyone in this entire thing. and i think the worse thing is that he is still getting away with all the shit he’s done/doing. Just listening to what that girl that escaped all that makes me sick that someone can do this. He’s literally breeding hybrids, that in itself is unethical, so fuck him. He’s literally leading a cult.

Carole Baskin. She’s clearly a flawed person and she definitely had something to do with her ex-husbands disappearance. Based on evidence or lack thereof, can’t say she killed him but she definitely knows more than we think. I dislike her in that she involved Big Cat Rescue into a personal feud. I will also say that she is a petty bitch. She’s not as bad as the others in terms of treatment to animals but still bad.

Big Cat Rescue (BCR) as an organisation is legit and should not be dragged down just because the founder has some shady personal stuff. Big Cat Rescue is quite open with how their facility is run, from their YouTube videos it shows clearly that the enclosures are way bigger than what they tried to portray in the docuseries. What was shown in the doc was only a small part of their enclosure where they feed the big cats. They offer a large area, hiding spots, shade, a pool for the tigers, and regular enrichment for their big cats. They rescue their big cats from abusive and neglected environments. And I am saying this for the people who keep claiming that BCR is doing the exact same thing as Joe or Antle, and that they’re keeping animals in cages too. Well, where else are we supposed to put them? CAPTIVE BRED ANIMALS CANNOT BE RELEASED INTO THE WILD! THEY WILL NOT SURVIVE! Literally all these people saying that these animals shouldn’t be in cages, and I agree but what so you propose we do with them? Leave them in the care of private owners who only got them because they were cute as a cub or as an ego boost to say “OhHh i OwN a TiGeR” and clearly don’t see that they are inadequate to be keeping a fucking tiger? Leave them in an environment where their basic needs are not met? Sanctuaries missions are to rescue these animals, their ultimate mission is to rescue these animals until there are no more privately owned exotic animals to be saved, give them a place of peace to live the remainders of their days and have empty cages. I cannot say anything about the treatment of the workers (because I didn’t see any solid sources saying they don’t pay their workers) but from what i gathered they do have some permanent staff but majority are volunteers (which by definition is someone who works without being paid, because its volunteer work), but I will say that BCR provides for their animals with the best of their abilities.

Holy shit... just ...when I watched the first episode I already didn’t want to continue because of the blatant disregard of animal welfare. But I watched the whole thing anyway to get a proper opinion instead of basing off of only one episode. On a slightly lighter note, I really liked Saff, he was one of the only people I liked. The dude with no legs (sorry can’t remember his name). And also Joshua Dial the campaign manager, like dude was nice, its just so tragic that he witnessed Travis shooting himself, hope the dude is going to therapy for that. RIP Travis Maldonado. Like they said in the end, nobody won and definitely not the animals, they suffered the most out of all of this.

I think that’s all off the top of my head that I have to say for now. Leave a reply if I missed out on anything. At the end of the day this is just my opinion, obviously we all have different opinions. So feel free to leave your opinion but I only want to have a civil discussion and don’t have the energy to argue with anyone. Guess that’s all.

Goodbye, for now

[singledarkshade]

Nightmare Scenario

Summary: How do you live in a world you don't belong to? Rip does his best to survive while running the Time Bureau, while Sara does her best to make sure he doesn't disappear into his work. Danger however is on the horizon and Rip's life is about to be torn apart once more. A Season 3 rewrite. Author’s Note: Rip Week Day 2: Perfect Episode – Rip left the show too soon, so give us the ideal episode that we never got. Alternatively, you can fix something to make it better, or give us that perfect scene that we never had. Canon compliance optional. I chose to rewrite the beginning of Season 3, this may be continued but until then, enjoy.                                ********************************************* Sara stared at the man who appeared through the portal before them. He was wearing the same blue suit as all the people who suddenly surrounded them, his hair was shorter than she’d ever seen it and he was clean shaven, which frankly Sara thought just looked odd on him.

“Well,” he stated as he removed his sunglasses, “You really buggered things up this time.”

“Rip?” was all she could manage to say as she stared at the scene around her.

Ray however demanded, “What’s going on?”

“Crossing our timeline fractured time forming anachronisms,” Rip stated, “I created The Time Bureau to deal with them.”

“Time Bureau,” several voices echoed in confusion.

Sara frowned, “You left the ship fifteen minutes ago.”

Rip shrugged, “To you maybe but building the Bureau has been the focus of the last five years of my life.”

Not sure how to reply, Sara worried because knowing the man before her the fact he had been alone without the team, but especially without Gideon, for that long was not a good thing for him.

“I suppose it’s only fitting, since I created the team,” Rip continued, “That I dissolve it. Your services are no longer required.”

“What?” several voices around her yelled while Sara stared at him.

With that said Rip turned to leave. He paused, turned back and added, “That means you’ll all be looking for jobs. Can I interest you in positions within a time travel organisation?”

Sara rolled her eyes, “How long did you work on that for?”

Rip shrugged, “Longer than I care to admit.”

Six Months Later

 Sara walked through the Bureau’s main building towards the offices, it had been a long day and she wanted something to eat but had to do one thing first. Reaching the office, Sara walked in without knocking.

“Gideon,” Rip said, not looking up as Sara entered, “I thought we agreed no one has access to my office without my say so?”

“Miss Lance has an appointment to meet you for dinner,” Gideon replied, with that smugness she got at times which Sara loved, when it wasn’t directed at her.

Rip frowned and looked at Sara, “Since when?”

Sara shrugged, “Since Gideon feels you’re not eating properly or taking time off work. So, put whatever you’re doing down for two hours and come have pizza with me.”

He continued to stare at her.

“I’ll tell you all the gossip,” Sara grinned before adding, “And if you don’t you know Gideon will start doing the passive aggressive thing you hate.”

“Director,” Gideon spoke up, “You have not eaten anything substantial since early this morning.”

Rip rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to get any peace if I don’t join you for dinner, am I?”

“You are smart,” Sara teased.

With a long sigh, Rip rubbed his eyes and stood, motioning Sara to lead the way knowing Gideon would lock down his office while he wasn’t there. Sara watched Rip as they walked through the corridors to the carpark. He looked tired but these days he always did. His decision to create a replacement for the Time Masters, one that was better than his former masters, put a lot of pressure on his shoulders.

Sara did her best, along with Jax and Ray to get him out of his office every so often, just to remind him there was a world outside of it.

Officially he lived in one of the apartments at the top of the Bureau’s main building but, in reality, was living on the Waverider again which was berthed in the lower levels. Gideon did her best to look after him in their new circumstances. Ensuring that Rip was forced out of his office every so often for dinner with one of them and on occasion persuaded him to take the ship out on a mission.

 Rip sat on the armchair in Sara’s living room stretching his legs out and closing his eyes. He knew he fought against it but, it was nice to get out of the office for a while.

Gideon worried about him, he knew this. She was concerned that he was isolating himself from the world, but Rip couldn’t get too involved or he could accidentally change time more than he already had.

He didn’t belong in this century.

He didn’t belong anywhere.

Other than on the Waverider or at the Vanishing Point.

“Pizza is on its way,” Sara announced as she appeared and handed him a bottle of beer.

Taking the bottle, Rip nodded.

“You know,” Sara said, dropping onto her couch and curling her legs beneath her, “Friends talk to one another, tell each other how they’re doing, how their day has been and other things.”

Rip took a quick drink before replying, “I’m doing fine, and my day has been busy.”

“Master conversationalist as always,” Sara rolled her eyes.

He shrugged, taking a long drink before asking, “And you?”

She chuckled, “Mission went well, but I’m sure once Agent ‘Dull and Boring’ gets through with the report she’ll give you the lowlights.”

“I really wish this feud you have going with Ava would fizzle out,” Rip sighed, “It is…” he paused before settling on, “Irritating.”

“Sharpe is the one who started it,” Sara said innocently, “I believe she took offence to my style of training agents.”

Rip sighed again, he’d had this discussion with them both far too many times in the past few months, “Well you were trying to train them for the League of Assassins.”

Sara laughed, “Just wanted them to know how hard their job will be.”

Shaking his head Rip finished his beer, “Did anything happen today that I should know about?”

“No, it was pretty standard,” she assured him before changing the subject, “You know Martin has invited us all to Lily’s baby shower on Saturday.”

“Gideon told me,” Rip replied, becoming very interested in the bottle he was still holding, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go.”

Sara didn’t say anything for a minute before sighing, “It’s a get together with your friends, Rip. Time away from work which will be good for you.”

“Sara…”

“I know,” she interrupted him, “That the whole baby thing is hard for you but, it’s going to happen more and more. Especially since you ensured the Bureau didn’t follow the Time Master’s policy on agents not marrying.”

Sadness filled him, the pain tugging against his heart reminding him of the hole that would always be there.

“You can’t avoid it forever,” Sara continued softly, “And Martin has been asking after you. This is just an excuse he’s found to get you there for a few hours. You have to start living in the world at some point.”

“Sara,” he sighed, “This isn’t my world. I survive here because I must. My home is gone, along with my family.”

“But you have friends,” she reminded him, “We’re here for you. You need to remember that. You’re not alone.”

 Rip bade Sara goodnight, accepting the cookies she handed him and opened the portal to the Waverider. Stepping through he felt relief fill him to be back on board.

“Did you have a good night, Captain?” Gideon asked as he made his way to the galley and stored the cookies in the cupboard.

She had taken to calling him Director within the Bureau but here on the Waverider, he was always Captain.

He shrugged dropping into a chair, “It was nice to spend time with Sara, but could you stop scheduling things without talking to me first?”

“Since you continue to ignore everyone’s attempt to socialise with you,” Gideon noted, “Then in order to follow my directive to protect, and keep you healthy, I sometimes need to push.”

Rip couldn’t stop the smile that touched his lips, “Is that what you call it?”

“You require sleep, Captain,” Gideon reminded him, “You have an early meeting tomorrow morning.”

Nodding Rip headed to his room, he knew he would have to take the ship out soon, it wasn’t fair on Gideon to be trapped down here but he needed her to be with him. Gideon was all he had left and losing her was something he could never contemplate.

Readying himself for bed, Rip slid under the covers and closed his eyes. He fell asleep becoming aware of another presence at his side. Gideon wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Sara is right,” she said after a few minutes, “You should spend more time with the others, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Rip sighed, his fingers tangling with her hair, “I have you.”

“Rip,” she reminded gently, “I’m not human, I can’t be with you physically outside your dreams.”

He hugged her tighter, “I don’t need that. I just need your support.”

“You always have it, my dear Captain,” she told him, “But you also need people you can interact with in the real world. Going to Lily Stein’s baby shower will be a good thing.”

Rip nodded, “And I’m betting you already ordered a gift from us?”

“It is a lovely gift with all the necessities Lily will require,” Gideon replied, making him smile.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Rip sighed and closed his eyes, “I need to sleep properly.”

“I know,” Gideon murmured, “Rest, Captain I am watching over you. Always.”

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

 “Well, this is a sight I did not expect,” Martin laughed as Rip stood in the doorway, “Welcome to my home, Captain Hunter. Sorry, Director Hunter.”

Rolling his eyes, he suggested, “How about just Rip?”

Martin nodded, “Come on in, Rip.”

Walking into the house Martin had moved to in Star City only a few months before so he could consult with the Bureau, Rip smiled to see Sara, Ray and Jax were already there.

“I’m guessing Gideon has something to do with you being here?” Sara asked as she handed him a glass filled with what appeared to be fresh orange juice.

Rip shrugged, “She bought a gift. I had to deliver it.”

Jax and Ray began to chuckle while Sara grinned, “Of course you did.”

Shaking his head Rip sipped his drink as he looked around the cheerfully decorated room, suddenly realising there was no one else there.

“Am I early?” he asked.

“I thought we could all have an hour to catch up before the rest of the guests arrived,” Martin told him.

 Rip enjoyed catching up with his former team. He knew what Ray, Jax and Sara were doing within the Bureau but rarely got the chance to talk to them. Even when they dragged him out his office for dinner, they mostly talked about work.

Martin looked happy, being at home with his wife and seeing his daughter engaged with a baby on the way. Jax was working part-time within the Bureau’s engineering department while taking college courses. Ray was looking for a way to separate them from the Firestorm matrix, so they didn’t have to meet up so frequently while also helping in the Bureau’s labs.

He sat and listened to the others talking, joining in the laughter as he caught up on his friend’s lives.

The guests for the baby shower began to arrive and as the others mixed with the guests Rip took the tea Clarissa had made for him, sliding out the back door into the garden.

“You know the party is inside,” Lily’s voice made him turn.

Quickly moving to help her to the nearest seat, Rip shrugged, “I’m not a party person.”

“Me neither,” Lily confessed, “But my mom wanted to do this. She’s so excited about the baby. Personally, I just can’t wait to not get kicked in the kidneys every time I lie down.”

Rip smiled slightly, “As long as you put the baby in the crib. Because trust me, babies tend to know instinctively where to hit you.”

“It was nice that you came today,” Lily said, “My dad misses talking to you. He says you have an interesting way of looking at problems.”

Rip shrugged, “Your father is a brilliant man. And from what I hear you are making waves in the scientific community as well.”

Lily smiled, “I had a great teacher.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Lily sighed, “I suppose I should go back inside since this is my party. Help me up?”

Rip offered his hand to pull her to her feet before letting her take his arm escorting her back inside.

“And tell Gideon thank you for the present,” Lily told him, “It was beautiful.”

“She’ll be pleased you liked it, but I warn you now, she will want you to visit with the baby.”

 Ray and Jax intercepted Rip as he was about to leave escorting him back to the living room after the other guests had left.

“You’re not going back to work,” Ray told him, “Sara has already called Gideon who won’t let you into your office until tomorrow morning.”

With a sigh, knowing he was defeated before he even tried, Rip accepted the bottle of beer Sara handed him and took a seat. He listened to them chatting, speaking every so often so they didn’t try to entice him into a full conversation.

About an hour later, Martin was in the middle of a story about some of his new students when the doorbell rang, Clarissa slipped away to answer it.

“Martin,” Clarissa called, making them all turn to see several cops following her inside along with a familiar man.

“Dad?” Sara jumped to her feet, “What are you doing here?”

Quentin Lance gave her a quick frown before turning, “Rip Hunter?”

Rip stood confused and nodded, surprised when he was seized and handcuffed.

“What the hell are you doing, Dad?” Sara demanded.

Her father shook his head before he looked at Rip again, “You’re under arrest, Mr Hunter.”

“On what charge?” Rip demanded coldly.

“The murder of Miranda Coburn and Jonas Hunter.”