#most of her life with mystery pain and never had any answers or sympathy until recently

[littlemourningstar]

Sorry, small personal rant regarding an exchange I had about my disability

Me born with a hip defect, inherited a chronic pain disease from my grandmother, and has various other medical issues: damn both my legs hurt today been a while since they both hurt at the same time lol

My husbands ex who knows that won’t help me but just likes to cause drama: “use em more?”

Gee why didn’t I think of that?? It’s almost like that has nothing to do with why I’m in pain and I use them plenty enough as it is.

shut up shut up shut up shut up

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

I really like the snippets of the SVMs that you post, but I can’t help but think about how by the end of the series Charlaine Harris just decided to destroy the character of Eric. I read those last few novels and just fumed with anger. Were you happy with how they turned out?

You are absolutely correct, anon. Was I happy with how they turned out? Absolutely not. I have a lot of bones to pick with Charlaine Harris about what she did to Eric Northman, but more importantly, I have a lot of bones to pick with Sookie.

Initially, I thought that the problem in the latter books was that Harris got lazy with everyone's characterization when she was contracted to write three more novels and started writing these characters in ways that were inconsistent. Certainly, there are a few instances where Eric is portrayed in a manner inconsistent with earlier books. (He loses a lot of his humor and charm and suddenly has a very different perspective on the possibility of turning Sookie, which I attribute to bad writing.) But as I went back in the series to compile these quotes, I noticed that the problems I had with Sookie's character in the latter books manifested much earlier. I have been trying so desperately to wrap my head around her behavior, and I have come to the following conclusions about Book Sookie, which are not necessarily applicable to TV Sookie...

(major spoilers and an unedited 4,000 word essay ahead)

Sookie's mind-reading abilities have stunted her ability to read and empathize with others without the use of her powers.

The magical bond that is formed when she and Eric exchange blood circumvents this while it is active, enabling Sookie to feel Eric’s emotions rolling off him at the time. She knows he is terrified when his maker arrives in book 10, and she is even able to identify precisely why he is frightened: he doesn’t want to be under someone else’s control. But after she severs their bond in book 11, her ability to read him fails her. She has spent her entire life reading people’s minds, which has served as a crutch. Rather than developing the intuitive ability to read a person’s body language and read between the lines of what they are saying that most of us learn, Sookie relies on her abilities, which don’t work on vampires. As a result, their motives are often mysteries to her. She notes how stony-faced they are, how carefully controlled they are in expression, but she misses a lot of cues that convey their repressed feelings. This is particularly bad for Eric, who, like many men, shields himself with anger when he is feeling hurt. His anger is not excessive or violent—in fact it is often very well controlled—but it masks the tender feelings that hide under the surface. It is telling that Sookie never acknowledges the incredible pain and betrayal that Eric must feel when she severs their blood bond, or when she ultimately refuses to save him from being taken away from her. The only time she feels sympathy toward him in that respect is in one line at the very end of the series where she considers how lonely he will be—and then she purposefully smothers that thought, refusing to dwell on it further.

Sookie's trauma from her formative relationship with Bill renders her suspicious of the motives of others and unable to trust her future partners.

Bill is the first man she ever dated, fell in love with, or had sex with, and it is revealed to her through Eric’s intervention that their entire relationship was premised on a lie. This plot point is the same in the book as it is in the TV show. Once Sookie and Eric are together, there are numerous instances where she suspects his motives. She maintains the firm belief that Eric never does anything unless it would be beneficial to himself, which is probably true up to a point, but even after he has shown that he is deeply in love with her and that he has borne the personal cost of this love, she still doubts him. In fact, Sookie believes that the love they seemingly share is only the result of the magical blood bond between them, which renders it false. Eric repeatedly states that he does not care why he loves her, only that he does, but this is a problem that Sookie cannot get past. It results in her severing their bond without warning. Once the bond is severed, she insists that she does still love him “all on her own” but her love quickly begins to erode without the understanding that the bond created as they are besieged by numerous calamities. When the final obstacle to their love presents itself—a contract negotiated by Eric’s maker that would force him to marry the vampire Queen of Oklahoma against his will—Sookie is so blinded by her inability to trust him that she doubts every word he says about wanting to stay with her. He never expresses a desire to leave her for the queen, but remains stalwart in his insistence that he cannot escape the contract despite seeking every possible loophole. Yet Sookie believes he is attracted to the queen and the power that she possesses and attributes his insistence that he is trapped in the contract to a clever lie designed to dupe her. In the final days of their relationship, Eric reveals that he knows Sookie could save him with a magical object that grants her one wish, and repeatedly insists that she could stop him from being taken from her if she wanted to. He does not ask her to do it, nor does he mention the object explicitly, or ask where it is. His statements read like a man who is wounded by his lover’s unwillingness to save him, but one who perhaps has too much dignity to resort to begging her to intervene. Presumably he believes that he should not have to beg the woman who says she loves him to save him from “cushy slavery,” as Sookie calls it. Once Sookie realizes that Eric knows about her magical deus ex machina, she starts to wonder if he really just wants to take it from her, or use it for himself. She even entertains the possibility that maybe he orchestrated the entire dilemma in order to get his hands on it. When the thought enters her head, she admits that she never would have considered such a thing if it weren’t for Bill’s betrayal of her.

Sookie's affection for Eric is conditional upon his usefulness to her (including as a sexual object), and she never develops an appreciation or understanding for who he is as a person.

Perhaps this is the fatal flaw in their relationship from the very beginning. Sookie does not express an interest in Eric other than the fact that he is physically attractive until his numerous favors to her and the many instances where he has saved her life or protected her begin to add up. The blood bond between them is formed when he prevents a vampire who has authority over him from forcing blood on an unwilling Sookie, instead offering his own blood as a substitute. Their marriage was orchestrated by Eric when another vampire wanted to take Sookie away from her own against her will, and it allows Eric to serve as a barrier to any other vampire who would try to harm her. Once their romantic relationship is formed in earnest, it quickly becomes evident that it is lopsided. Eric praises Sookie for her beauty, but also for how brave she is and how hard she works and countless other virtues that are not physical in nature. In return, Sookie feels obligated to pay him a compliment, and all she can manage is that he has a nice body and is good in bed. She often deflects from serious conversations with him to have sex instead. Sookie clearly doesn’t believe Eric is a good person, expressing her own doubts about his moral code when he doesn’t display enough outward moral repugnance for her liking. When Eric tells her how his boss tortured and killed a human woman to punish a vampire, she asks him how the story made him feel. His answer—that it made him fearful it could happen to Sookie—is not good enough for her because he does not also express remorse for the woman in question. (It should be noted that he doesn’t revel in her pain either; he is merely concerned with applying the moral of the story to his own circumstances and the woman that he loves.) Sookie does not seem to acknowledge the good that other people attribute to Eric, such as when his new bartender tells her she requested to come work for him. Sookie cannot imagine why anyone would want to work for Eric, but the vampire explains that he is a good master to serve because he treats his people well, specifically pointing out that he doesn’t ask for sexual favors from his female subordinates like other sheriffs do. Sookie is not interested in his life, his business, or his world. When he attempts to explain the elaborate hierarchy of vampire politics to her in an effort to include her more in his affairs, she outwardly expresses so much disinterest that Eric takes offense. Their relationship treads water for a while, until Sookie is kidnapped and tortured by fairies and Eric is prevented from rescuing her. While she is being tortured, Sookie is certain that Eric will show up at any moment, but she doesn’t know that he has been forbidden from intervening by his boss. The other vampires bind Eric in silver chains to keep him from going to save her. He later tells her how anguished he was that he could feel her pain and do nothing to protect her, shedding tears as he talks about it, but she doesn’t want to hear it. That moment marks a turning point in their relationship. Sookie repeatedly affirms that she believes Eric is so big and strong and capable of handling anything, and any time he is not able to deliver on her expectations, she loses even more love for him.

Sookie's prejudice against vampires leads to her treating them as though they are not people.

Although Sookie does not express her prejudice explicitly as some characters do, she still exhibits a bias against vampires throughout the books and expresses a clear preference for humans or shapeshifters. She is disgusted, for example, by Eric’s suggestion that she should come work at Fangtasia, saying that she would hate to watch the fangbangers seek the attention of the undead among them. She believes that they do not feel emotions or possess empathy in any comparable measure to humans. (The thought that not all humans share the same depth of emotion or empathy does not seem to occur to her.) She also discounts their physical pain or suffering because they possess the ability to heal themselves. This happens numerous times when Eric is wounded, often while trying to protect her. In one case, Eric shoves himself in front of a car window and takes a bullet intended for her point blank. While he is injured, he fights off the werewolf who was trying to kill Sookie. Then he gets back in the car and drives her home with the bullet still lodged inside his chest. When they arrive back at her house, he asks her for blood, saying explicitly that he is in pain as his body pushes the bullet out of his chest. She tells him he’ll be fine and if he really needs it, he should stop at Merlotte’s and get some True Blood on his way home. Another time, Sookie comes upon Eric after he has been badly beaten and bound with silver. His arm is broken and his hands, she notes, look gruesome, because the silver was wrapped around them. As soon as she frees him, he springs into action and decapitates the vampire who had attacked him before said vampire can go for Sookie, who gets faint at the sight. (She is not injured.) Eric picks her up even though his arm is broken, and she takes the opportunity to internally romanticize the moment, imagining that she is Scarlet O’Hara. But a short while later, she asks Sam to drive her home without thinking about offering Eric a bottle of True Blood even though they’re right in front of the bar. The most egregious example of this phenomenon occurs when Eric’s vampire brother has massacred all of the staff at his home. Sookie arrives to find several vampires and humans slaughtered on the premises while Eric is desolate and in excruciating pain with his ribs ripped through his chest. He tells her that he needs her to push his ribs back into place and that Pam was there as well, and Sookie proceeds to chastise him for not springing into action to go after his brother. When tears form in his eyes, she grows impatient and questions why he hasn’t called someone to come clean up yet. It isn’t until midway through the conversation that she tells Jason to push Eric’s ribs in so he can heal, and it is only on accident that Jason happens to find Pam, who is thankfully not dead.

Sookie's system of morals is so rigid that, when she participates in violence, she suppresses her own personal responsibility and projects blame on the people around her in order to continue believing that she is a good person.

After the massacre referenced in the paragraph above, Eric and Sookie must fight his crazed brother and several fairies at her house, slaying his maker in the process. When they are victorious, Sookie is immediately revolted by the bloodshed. Eric, meanwhile, is flooded with relief that he is free of his maker, who subjected him to hundreds of years of rape and slavery when he was first turned into a vampire. Sookie knows this, and in fact can feel the emotions radiating from him, but she seems to despise Eric for feeling anything but repugnance in that moment. This appears to be her coping strategy any time she participates in violence—she negates her own culpability and creates moral distance between herself and Eric by judging his reaction to be grotesque. The same thing happens when they are able to kill the brutally cruel vampire regent who was actively trying to ruin Eric and was responsible for attempts on Sookie’s life and who refused permission for Pam to turn her human lover into a vampire before she died. Eric and Pam are joyous that they have won and that the regent cannot torment them any longer. Sookie, who helped plan the attack and in fact dealt part of the killing blow to the regent, is abruptly disgusted when Eric embraces her and kisses her. It does not occur to her that he might be relieved that she was unharmed in the battle and that the constant threat to them all has been eliminated. Instead, she assumes that he’s trying to have sex with her and tells him she’s not interested in a manner that clearly conveys her revulsion. Eric does not handle the conflict gracefully, and bites her harshly to drink from her after he tells her she’s being a hypocrite, which only gives her more reason to push her guilt away and project it onto him.

Sookie’s youth and inexperience serves as a barrier to navigating the turbulent waters of a real relationship.

Sookie had never been in a relationship before Bill, and she only has one other relationship between breaking up with Bill and getting together with Eric. While she enjoys the ‘honeymoon’ phase of her relationships, she flounders when it comes time to address communication issues or outside pressures. Neither Sookie nor Eric find it easy to establish an open channel of communication, but Sookie actively seeks to end serious conversations early or avoid them altogether, while being stunned that Eric initiates conversations about their relationship, something that she thinks all men avoid. At one point, she tells Eric that they need to talk and then starts discussing what she refers to as their “irreconcilable differences.” The conversation seems to be veering into breakup territory, and they’re deeply involved in it when someone knocks on her door. She immediately invites her unexpected guests in and is relieved by the excuse to terminate the conversation abruptly even though Eric is still trying to figure out what’s going on. At other times, she observes that she loves Eric, but she’s not feeling the same lust or excitement when she thinks about him anymore. Anyone who has ever been in a long-term relationship knows that passions often wax and wane, and that it also takes work to sustain and strengthen a relationship over time. Sookie is unwilling to put in the work or even have an honest discussion about the things they need to work on. She talks about romance novels a lot, and it seems to me that she has an idealized concept of love where she believes that they should be effortless and that passions should always be as hot as they were at the beginning. There are also times when she behaves in an extremely childish manner in the midst of conflict. After she severs the magical bond between her and Eric, he comes to her house and her main concern is whether or not he’s mad, while he asks her if she still loves him. She stubbornly insists he has to answer her question first even though she’s the one who broke the bond. On another occasion, Eric’s king comes into town and he is required to be at the monarch’s beck and call. Sookie gets mad at him and tells him she doesn’t want to see him one day, then is even more irritated that he isn’t calling her the next. Soon after, Eric is dealing with an endless litany of personal disasters that he can’t control, and he is short with her. Sookie listens to him confide in her about his problems and then responds with sharp-edged, sarcastic contempt, telling him that she has information that might have helped him with his problems and she might have told him if he wasn’t neglecting her.

Sookie’s limited understand of cultures that are unlike her own leads to misguided assumptions and fatal misunderstandings.

As the books progress, Sookie’s knowledge about vampire culture and governance grows incrementally, but she never approaches their customs with the same open-mindedness that she uses when it comes to werewolves or shapeshifters and their customs. This proves to be a major problem in her relationship with Eric, where there are two unfamiliar cultures at play—the modern culture of vampires, and the ancient culture of Eric’s human life. Sookie often refers to Eric as her “big Viking,” but she never gleans any insight about the culture in which he was raised. She seems to believe that he does not have much respect for women and projects American pre-Women's liberation attitudes on him even though he does not express those beliefs. When he offers to have her come live with him, she assumes that he wants her to be a housewife who cooks and cleans for him. She takes offense, and Eric is confused by her response. As Sookie’s situation becomes more perilous and she is injured multiple times in attacks at Merlotte’s, Eric asks her repeatedly to come live with him and/or work at Fangtasia so that he can protect her. She rebuffs these proposals, believing that they are rooted in misogyny. Sookie is also disinterested in understanding vampire culture, tuning Eric out when he explains things to her and refusing to accept that their rules and customs are different from her own when they inconvenience her. In particular, she never seems to understand the feudal system of governance under which the vampires live. When Eric is obliged to obey his maker or wait on his king or queen, Sookie is consistently irritated that he is not paying enough attention to her. She either does not understand or will not accept that vampires are not free to do whatever they want. This becomes a huge problem in the latter three books after a king from another state annexes Louisiana and kills every sheriff except Eric, putting him in a precarious position. Backed into a corner, he must maneuver very carefully to protect himself and everyone who is loyal to him. At the same time, he learns that his maker entered into a contract to marry him to the vampire Queen of Oklahoma against his will. Sookie refuses to believe Eric when he tells her that there is no way out of the contract, repeatedly insisting that if he loved her enough, he would just refuse to honor it. She holds him to the standards of her own culture, remaining willfully ignorant of the horrible consequences that could befall them both if Eric were to disobey. When she learns she can intervene and save Eric from his fate, she refuses, adamant in her belief that he will find his own escape clause if he truly wants to. The end result of her refusal is that Eric is forced into 200 years of “cushy slavery,” as Sookie calls it, a fate that does not inspire any guilt or pity in her, presumably because she still sees herself as a jilted lover.

At the end of the day, Eric deserved a lot better than Sookie.

He also deserved a lot better from the author, and a lot of people were justifiably outraged with the ending that Charlaine Harris gave to him. Harris, by way of Sookie, repeatedly reminds the reader that the Queen of Oklahoma is a very attractive woman, and it seems that this is intended to excuse the fact that Eric would be contractually obligated to have sex with her whether he wanted to or not. Eric expresses no desire for the queen, constantly asserting his commitment to and love for Sookie. When he admits that he would be required to consummate the relationship with the queen, he seems discomforted and ashamed at the idea. (Harris specifically uses the word “abashed.”) It is revealed to Sookie that the queen conspired to put Eric in this predicament specifically because she knew he valued his independence too much to ever agree to it willingly. Sookie knows that Eric was forced to service his maker sexually against his will, and that what he hates above all else is to be subjugated. She also knows that he will not be a monarch if he marries the queen; he will be her consort, a position that carries with it no inherent power or authority unless the queen gives it to him, and he will not be able to ever succeed her. Even despite all of this, Sookie is completely unsympathetic toward Eric. The author never acknowledges that this ending for Eric essentially means that he will be raped. What astounds me is that I don’t think she would have made his choice for a female character, or if she did, she would not have framed it in the same way. Sookie’s casual dismissal of Eric being sold into “cushy slavery” implies that male rape is no big deal, which is incredibly harmful. It is astounding that she would subject the primary love interest of the entire series to such a fate, and it’s the final nail in the coffin for Sookie Stackhouse for me, at least in her book incarnation. If any of her other love interests had been put in similar circumstances, I can’t imagine what she would not do to try to save them. But because it was Eric—her big, strong Viking who she believes is incapable of feeling emotions or pain and must be invincible in order to be valued by her—Sookie thinks nothing of it. Nothing at all.

@grimeundglow @stevesharrlngtons @scxrsgxrd @grandpa-sweaters

[septic-skele]

UT - Damaged If You Dare

Summary: Sans tries. He tries so hard to stay strong, keep up with the rest and have a normal life, but all of that effort looks like nothing when the world around him wears its blinders.

It would almost be funny if it weren’t so infuriating.

Sans is used to being perceived as lazy; it’s been the norm for a while now and if he is to be completely honest, there have definitely been times that he’s leaned into the perception just so he wouldn’t have to try as hard.

That’s the truth of the matter: he does try. Stars, he tries so hard—to keep up with the rest, to bolster himself when he’s slipping, to get the job done, to be a relatively functional being—but all of his effort looks like nothing when the world around him wears its blinders.

The humans in particular are good at that.

It’s been three years since Papyrus got fed up with worried about Sans’ state of body and mind—three years of carting him from one doctor to another in hopes of solving the mystery.

He’s seen medical dramas before—that age-old trope where doctors will stop at nothing to help and heal, find answers and ease suffering. In three years, the renowned experts have made him the butt of a television joke.

“Dieting.”

“Exercise.”

“Hypochondria.”

“Exaggeration.”

“Pain patient.”

“Drug seeking.”

The ones who take him seriously have narrowed it down to the general term “chronic illness,” as if Sans isn’t already aware of that.

Sans has never been a good test taker. Their poking, prodding and probing have him grinding his teeth and all but breaking Papyrus’ morally supportive fingers. Because that makes sense, doesn’t it? For trying to ease the ache he feels day in and day out, his reward is pain afresh and exactly no answers. Not even a sticker and a lollipop to boot.

On the way home it’s always a gamble between pretending to sleep and putting up no fight at all, letting the silent tears streak down his face. It took months, but Papyrus has learned not to say a word.

What is there to say anyway? Even Papyrus has to run out of new excuses eventually. Maybe if they keep the harsher realities to themselves, their friends will learn to accept it: the cancelled outings, the unanswered texts and voicemails, the dodged commitments and broken promises.

Maybe their friends will stop asking why and then Papyrus won’t have to lie for Sans’ pride—because who really wants to hear that the Great Papyrus was busy helping his disgusting brother bathe himself for the first time in five weeks? Hand-feeding him pills one by one? Peeling him off the floor because he tried to go down the stairs without assistance?

Maybe their friends will just give up on them. Stop reaching out. Walk away and get on with their happy, healthy lives.

Maybe Papyrus will be crushed by that loss.

Maybe Papyrus will walk away too.

Maybe that would be better for him. Sans asks too much from his brother. Where do laziness and disability blur together? If his previous doctors and their accusations are right, this could all just be some cruel game in his head, convincing him that he has the right to be a burden on everyone around him.

Somehow the good days make it worse. When he can get out of bed on his own, he can’t help but wonder if last week’s flare-up was false. Whatever was happening then, it was a fluke. Look at him now; he’s all better! He’s been capable of recovery all along; he just had to believe it. When the pain is a seven instead of a ten, he tells himself that it’s more like a five or a four. He’s been too self-indulgent and dramatic.

The world expects the “differently abled” to be brave and inspirational, no matter the challenges flung their way. Sans can’t let the illness stop him, not when others have it far worse. They deserve the help, not he. So to make up for being such an inconvenience, to apologize for squeezing out their sympathy, he’ll push. He’ll prove he can do better; he’ll work himself to the bone to repay them, even if it means he’s crawling back into bed for four days afterward.

(If anyone else spent so much time under the sheets, people might suspect more scandalous activities were afoot. Sans considers his hottest and most supportive of bedfellows, a heating pad and a back brace, and laughs at the pun until he cries.)

The first time he uses a wheelchair, he feels like he’s cheating the system. Under pains and penalties he could probably make it to his feet today, so naturally that makes him an imposter. He hasn’t earned it. He ought to settle for his cane and be satisfied, even if it didn’t do much to catch him the last time he blacked out and dislocated four ribs. But the wheelchair gets him to lunch with friends, so that’s something.

Undyne takes a glance at him and his spread of lunchtime medications. Tactful as always, she exclaims, “Dude, you’re still sick?”

“Undyne!” Alphys squeaks, sinking down in her seat to avoid Sans’ gaze. (He knows she had planned to pretend none of his issues existed. Any hint of abnormality in Alphys’ vicinity seems to make her uncomfortable.)

“What? I just thought he would’ve pushed through it by now, if he was trying hard enough! Is it really that ba—?”

“Chronic, Undyne,” Papyrus states in staccato, his expression one of detached, deadly calm as he roots through his pack for Sans’ thermos. “My brother is troubled by a chronic ailment—as in persistent, long-lasting and constantly recurrent—as in ‘always there.’ It’s just as perpetual as the loss of your eye.”

That’s the first time Papyrus has ever resorted to that kind of verbal blow. It takes Undyne aback; she can’t muster a quick counter. Sans accepts the thermos when it’s offered, but the lump in his throat makes the pills hard to swallow.

He doesn’t have the energy to spare for this. He probably should have stayed home.

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x Reader) Intro

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

intro | the unexpected  ↪

Everybody loves the things you do.

You can't exactly recall the moment that everything seemed to change or rather, fall apart. Well, if you were going to be honest, you expected everything to fall apart sooner rather than later but there you were, watching him get cheered on in the middle of the school grounds of Inarizaki High. Why? Well, the girl he apparently had a crush on had been eating out his face as if her life depended on it. It crushed you.

What did you expect? The two of you were never official, nor did he ever hinted at the idea of the two of you becoming official. This is what you should have expected, right? He was never yours, to begin with, you were just a friend he occasionally fucked with on the side to relieve his stress, no big deal.

So, why had the scene in front of you, broke your heart?

Right, maybe because of the fact that your best friend since you were eight years old, Miya Atsumu, has owned your heart for as long as you can remember.

  Everybody here is watching you.

You watched as the two broke apart, with eat-shitting grins plastering their perfectly shaped faces. The cheers that erupted within the vicinity were almost deafening. What hurts the most was that your best friend, your little 'ol fuck buddy, searched the crowd and his eyes locked with your own. There wasn't any sign of regret, it was as if he was silently communicating with you to accept that whatever the two of you had in secret, would inevitably end, however, you pretty much puzzled that out already, the sight you had witnessed indicated the obvious, you didn’t need it to be spelt out for you. It took every bit of you not to spin around and walk away from the man that had broken your heart into bits and pieces, but the friend in you couldn't seem to do such a thing, instead, you tried your best to flash him an encouraging smile.

Yes, Miya Atsumu had broken your little pathetic heart.

You're like a dream come true.

You recalled the first time you had met Miya Atsumu. You had just moved in next door from Kanagawa. You had been dejected of the move, reluctant to help your parents settle down. You had been forced to leave your friends and every little thing that mattered to you. Honestly, you were ridiculous at the time. You were practically eight years old, and you were already moaning about how your life had already ended for leaving your friends behind.

That is until the Miya Atsumu introduced himself to you with his cheeky little smile.

"Hi!" he greeted in a yell like manner causing you to shriek and spin around to face the intruder, warmth spreading across your cheeks in embarrassment, "My mom told me we have new neighbours and to bring this over. I'm Miya Atsumu, but you can call me Atsumu because it might confuse you since I have a twin. His name's Osamu!"

You flickered your gaze shyly over to the identical boy standing beside him looking uninterested. He sighed, "I can introduce myself you know,"

The boy you have come to know as Atsumu ignored his retort before handing over the small tray in his hands, "It's my mom's speciality, beef stew. It's one of my favourites. Oh by the way, what's your name?"

You blinked as you slowly grabbed the tray from his grasp as you mumbled your name underneath your breath. You felt your cheeks grow warmer as he repeated your name with a wide grin plastered on his face.

You didn't even know what was so memorable of how you met the Miya twins, or more importantly, how you met the rather annoying Atsumu, that you had somehow miraculously learned what the word 'crush' meant. It wasn't as if it was the first time you had been friends with the opposite sex. Before moving to Hyōgo, majority of your friends from elementary school in Kanagawa were boys, so how did you end up liking the now blonde twin?

It was life's many mysteries. However, what you had witnessed made you wish that you had fallen for the other twin instead, who had been looking at you with sympathy in his eyes as soon as he spotted you. You simply shook your head, smiling sadly. Osamu, bless the caring twin, had always known of your feelings for his brother and somehow figured out the arrangement the two of you shared upon entering Second Year in Senior High School. He expressed a few times for you to reveal your feelings, but you pushed it to the very back of your mind. You didn't know if Atsumu was completely oblivious to your blunt feelings or that he probably lacked some very important brain cells. You had thought he just didn't want to acknowledge it and pushed it aside, but what had pushed the two of you to have such an arrangement in the first place?

You somehow wished it never happened in the first place.

You look like a movie, You sound like a song.

Warmth.

It was the only word in your intoxicated mind that you could find during the first time his lips wandered delicately across your skin as if it were a map, the way his lips brushed against your skin marked that he had successfully visited places that night. You didn't know how two friends who were teasing each other about how the other hadn't been intimate with their past lovers escalated into that, but the passion burning through you at the time, feeling his hands and lips against places that were supposed to be forbidden for a man that you shared no intimate relationship with were enough to fight back the protests that were bubbling in your mind. It was intoxicating. It was warm. It was Atsumu.

If you were to lose your virginity, who would be better than your best friend himself, right? Wrong.

When you think about it, despite the lovely idea of losing each other's virginity to each other as best friends, it was only because you had been madly in love with Atsumu, thinking that when it was over, he would finally man up and take a step forward with whatever the two of you had, and the two of you were to be finally happy together. Of course, your love for your best friend won over and you were forced to accept your faith that it meant little to him than it did to you.

Despite Atsumu not returning your feelings after the whole thing, you tried your best to put on a smile and be there for your friend, no matter how painful it was. You hadn't expected it of course, when a particularly stressful day for Atsumu would lead to the arrangement of you being the one to release his stress during your second years. You kept your feelings locked away in a chest and hid the key, you didn't want to complain.

Fear had crept its way into the very front of your mind, constantly eating you out, day and night. To complain and push Atsumu away to put your feelings first, only meant you'd lose him. It was inevitable, you decided then. The two of you shared such intimacy more ways than one and somehow reverting it to the way it was before deemed impossible.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing Atsumu. Not as a secret lover, but as a best friend. You didn't want to admit it, but he was the only one you had left. Sure you had other friends, but Atsumu was your partner in crime. From the moment you met him, to before the two of you shared such reckless intimacy, he had been your rock. Sure, there were things you weren't willing to confide with him due to personal reasons, but he was there. Ever since your father had passed away, things were rocky with your mother. Your relationship with your mother had worsened throughout the years after your father's passing, and not even Atsumu knows the extent of it. You couldn't bring yourself to express such, you didn't want anyone's pity. You just needed Atsumu's warmth, whether it was intimate or not.

You can't help but admit at how pathetic you've become for someone who didn't reciprocate such feelings, but what were you to do?

Let me photograph you in this light, in case it is the last time.

As you stood there, you felt hopeless. It seemed as if the cheers surrounding you failed to cease. It was as if it grew louder, almost taunting you.

You didn't want to ruin the moment though. They seemed perfect for each other, too perfect together. Happy in their little world with their friends surrounding them—cheering, congratulating, teasing the new happy couple, and you stood there, outside of their inner circle, pathetically. You kept your gaze on Atsumu as if to devour his features, afraid that your mind might have suddenly decided to erase him.

You caught Osamu from the corner of your eye, his twitching not so subtle. His body language screamed of wanting to comfort you but all you could do was shake your head to prevent such action. You didn't want to feel any more pathetic than you already did.

After another painful second to capture his features, you spun around facing the school's gate, heart-clenching as tears now slowly formed in the corners of your eyes. You wanted to scream. You wanted to break down there and then. You felt sick.

"Hey!" You heard him call out and you didn't think your heart could handle another but it felt as if he squeezed your heart once again, "Where you going? We have class soon."

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, your shoulders grew tense at the feeling of his close proximity. His familiar scent instantly engulfed you but what bothered you the most that it was mixed with a scent you're unfamiliar with. You didn't have to turn to look for its identity, you knew she was standing next to him, clung to his arm as if her life depended on it, afraid Atsumu would be snatched away from her. You couldn’t blame her, you would have done the same if you could. "I–I don't feel so good. I'm going to skip." You stuttered, letting out a laugh to cover up your constricted voice.

"Oh. Well," you heard her speak as if she was part of the conversation, "Let's leave her be, 'sumu."

He agreed almost instantly, "Right. You get home safe, yeah? Get better soon."

You heard their footsteps retreat and your heart taking a final blow and completely shattering to the ground. He didn't even bother to wait for a reply. Without looking back, you left the school premises. You left without saying goodbye.

It was just like a movie. It was just like a song.

The nauseating air wrapped tightly around you, almost making it difficult to breathe. When you had walked home, you let the tears flow almost instantly, not bothering to give an ounce of attention to the people who had looked towards your direction in pity or as if you had grown two heads the past hour. You were grateful that your mother and her new boyfriend had not been around at the time of your early return, not like she would care for your tears or how you had skipped school.

It was now or never, you had thought to yourself as you stared at the packed luggage on your bed. Earlier during the day, you hadn't exactly planned this. Running away from your problems seemed almost too cliche for you at the time. Scared to the bone, you still opted to approach your best friend about your predicament. However, as you entered the school grounds, well—it was obviously a sight you were not exactly expecting nor was it pleasant for you to witness, something you wish that could be erased from your mind completely.

The idea spilling the truth to Atsumu had been instantly tossed to the nearest bin. You didn't know if it was just your emotions deciding but you knew it was for the best. You couldn't stay here. Not anymore. Your mother would most certainly throw you out as soon as she had found out, not like it had been home to you in a long time.

So as you entered the empty house you once thought that radiated comfort and warmth, you decided it was best to disappear. A lot of factors that resulted in this decision piled up one by one as soon as you woke up for the day. And what was the root of it all?

Two pink lines.

That was six years ago.

[n0tamused]

- | Afterlife

Warnings: angst, description of gore, talks about death, character death.

Song recommendations: Her & the Sea - The Clann

Word count: 1,945

Characters: Kaliyah Sen-Ryokō, Ginjiro, mentioned/implied Tobirama?

"What happens after we die?"

The question made the silver beast stirr from his half-sleep, his large emerald eyes opening to stare at the back of his master. She sat closer to the edge of the great mountain cliff, a giant towering over all others. The sun was still high in the heavens and the wind was ever present, eternal on the mountain peaks. Leaves rustled in it, brushing against each other and creating a symphony of nature along with the little songbirds who sat scattered across the treetops. Waves crashed against the nearby shore below, the sight going on for miles and miles with nothing but vastness of blue. Specs of white dotted the sky, fluffy and shifting with the currents of wind.

"What brings this question forth all of a sudden?" Ginjiro asked in turn, silence following his question for a moment before pushing his head and body forward in the slightest, dragging across the lush grass until his head sat beside her. Kaliyah sat quiet, watching the sea move, waves lapping at the shore. Her lips moved into a thin line, her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed. Ginjiro's eye went over her features, and she seemed to shrink under his gaze. Her eyes were glossy and watery all of a sudden but her expression remained cold and unmoving.

"I don't know.. it just appeared in my mind. Along with that "prophecy" of the Old Nan." she finally answered, her voice as stable as it could be although it wouldn't take Ginjiro a moment longer to understand that this was bothering her for a long time, much longer than what she was letting on now. Deep within his chest he could feel the phantom sting of pain, anxiety in gut and lungs that she was feeling.

"Prophecy?" He opted to ask; he didn't remember her mentioning any prophecies of her.

" I never mentioned it to you.. She said... 'Water will destroy you' " said Kaliyah after a long moment of silence. Her eyes still remained on the far horizon, knowing if she even dared to look at Ginjiro that the feeling in her chest would seize her whole.

"I know I shouldn't believe in it, Old Nan gave many so-called prophecies and none of them ever came true but this… this one is harder not to believe." She continued, chest heaving in silent and forceful breaths. Lifting her head up she hoped for the fresh air to soothe her nerves.

Ginjiro retorted to look forward towards the sea too, removing the tension of his gaze.

"You were always an amazing swimmer, you're like a fish, I'm not sure how that prophecy would ever apply to you" said the beast calmly, his great and slim whiskers moving as he spoke, flowing. She has always seemed to love the water, to swim and dive and retreat many shells and pretty rocks. His hiding cave was filled with them, all of various sizes and colors. At his words Kaliyah shook her head, shamefully.

"And all I can think of is how many times the water almost took me; and I may be a good swimmer but unlike fish I can not breathe under water. The waves are always too strong, the currents too quick and the many times they almost took me for themselves I…" she trailed off. More and more of her fears started to surface.

The beast beside her opened its mouth to speak, only to be cut short by the girl again- "It's not death itself that frightens me."

That went back to her question, he noted.

"I am not scared of the pain either, the pain is the least of my worries, Ginjiro. What scares me is what comes after that. Is it darkness that awaits me? An eternal hell of raging oceans that keep drowning me? Which I can't escape from. Will I ever see the ones I love again? Or will I just... disappear?" It was getting harder to breathe, yet she forced herself not to shed any tears. Her chest began to quickly rise and fall with labored breaths, her hands tightening their hold around her legs, knuckles turning white and trembling. The view of the sea was no longer clear but blurry instead, dancing with her unshed tears that kept building up.

"You… are too good to keep suffering in death, my little one." Ginjiro said reluctantly, for even he wouldn't be able to answer such questions, nothing was certain about that inevitable fate.

"I hear many talk about the Pure Lands. And there, there is no suffering, no raging fires or oceans and certainly no darkness." He kept going only to see Kaliyah crumble furthermore. The sight immediately silenced him,more concern sprouting within him; he had never before seen her like this. Not even when she came desperate for his aid.

Big tears ran down her cheeks as she finally succumbed to the feelings that were eating her inside out like a beast. Her legs went to tuck themselves beneath her as she bent forward until her forehead touched the ground, her hands covering her face as she wept. Blades of grass poked at her neck and arms. Ginjiro was swift to lift himself from the ground, pained expression painting his draconic features. He grumbled quietly as he came to lay his large body between her and the sea. Casting a large shadow to befall on the girl. His wing came to come over her, in the form of a hug; shielding her away from the offending sights and the stares of trees, birds and the sun. All fell quiet suddenly, only the whistling of wind remained.

"Shhh now.. shhh.. don't you cry." Ginjiro was at a loss for words once again. And it was believed he was wise, he knew the answer to many questions and riddles but not to this. This was way out of his reach, and it pained him further that he couldn't bring any comfort to the one that grew so close to him.

" I- I don't want to forget anyone after death! I want to see everyone, I want to reunite with the ones I love; another life would be a blessing to me as long as I don't get to sit in darkness." she spoke through numerous gasps for air and hiccups, her throat closing on itself. It sounded as if she was angry at the world for this mystery. Ginjiro wrapped himself around her completely, as much as his flexibility would allow him. Now she was pressed against his belly, right beneath his shoulder while his maw nudged her carefully in affection. One of his whiskers came to drag across her arms and hands. Small noises came from him, rumbling through his throat. A noise that could easily be compared to a cat's purr, only softer. Like a turning of many wooden wheels behind layers of thick walls and even more soft cottons. It was distant and warm like a blazing hearth. Crackling of fire that brewed.

She continued to weep, watering the grass with her tears while her hands remained clamped over her eyes and face. A desperate attempt to shield her sorrows, something she found weak, shameful. Everything felt out of place, forced against her.

"I don't want- to die." came a small voice, Kaliyah's voice. A stark comparison to her usually stoic tone, a commanders voice. No- this was the voice of a girl ashamed of her fears, scared and paranoid of most things around her, scared of the future and scared of her own mind and doings. Ginjiro nudged her head again, her whole body too, to get her attention, to try and get her to look up.

"You will not die Kaliyah." he said.

And at mentioned of her name she seemed to recollect just the smallest bit of courage. She looked up, her weeping ceasing for only a moment. His eye shone like fragments of emeralds exposed to the sun, even under the umbrella of his wings. It was dark, only small bit of light came into the tent that was his body.

"Not for many more years to come." Her eyes widened, staring at his narrowed eye, brows furrowing in confusion. What the beast said was a promise. "And certainly not from something as silly as water" he finished.

-"I would sacrifice my last breath to give you one more. I'd give up the world so you may remain whole.. so worry not, little one. An infinity of such pain is nothing compared to the mere thought of losing you-"

Now as she watched blood trickle down his scales as she repeated the same words, she cried even more than she did that day. Screaming at the world and at it's cruelty. She wished she could give him the life he had promised her, wished she could take away the pain and the wounds. He had kept the promise.

It was the only thing that was shared equally in the world and that thing is unfairness. She wished she could go back to those cliffs and stay with Ginjiro forever, overlooking the world from the enormous heights.

Blood coated her clothes, tattered and dirtied, it matted down her hair and his silver mane. She stood in his blood and her own. More rivulets sprang forth and ran down her body from her own wounds. Still, she forced herself to stand, to go to Ginjiro and be beside him. None of the pain could compare to the one in her heart. She would rather face a thousand of swords all over again, she would face those raging oceans and empty darkness for an infinity of time rather than be here now. Here where Ginjiro lied dead and she kept on trying to move him, fisting his long mane in her hand.

All the power in his last breath went to pouring all his life energy into her, and the stone that hung around her neck. One they both created. Blood had stopped circulating in his system minutes ago, yet she couldn't bring herself to accept it. She wouldn't. Despite all the proof, she wanted to believe he would live. Even with his hollow wounds gaping at her from his chest and wing; wind whistling through them. His giant wing stood above her, shielding her from the sky. The contents of his insides were spilled across the ground outside the village grounds. The great walls looming in the distance, while the surrounding woods remained silent in sympathy. Moments ago his blood was steaming hot, pouring like waterfalls from a hot spring. Now, his body lost its fiery heat. Many wounds littered his body, painting a print of a tiger on his body in red.

The soil was soaked with his blood, so much so that the earth couldn't accept more, leaving a large puddle behind. Crimson puddles swirled with the dust and dirt. And a stray leaf went to fall into it, dancing with the current the wind created. With all her might she tried to shake the beast's head to get him to wake, he was so much larger than those years ago, so much heavier. His eyes stared at the sky overhead, stars looking at themselves in his dilated pupil like a mirror.

Darkness started to dot in her eyes, vision dancing with tears. It all tunneled until all she could see was the dull green eye. And for a moment she could swear she saw it move, all color return to it as it lazily blinked at her before the ground disappeared under her feet and hands seized her shoulders

___________________

-My Ao3

[ampleappleamble]

—

Axa could feel them watching her as they settled into their room at the Goose and Fox that night, could feel them wanting to know her. Not only so they could understand why she had done what she had with Purnisc and Kaenra, but also so they could (no doubt) uncover and examine all the painful, humiliating life experiences behind her every decision, all her successes and failures, and then judge her accordingly. Like kith will, she thought, of course. That’s normal and healthy to think.

Genuine concern mingled with morbid curiosity, hung palpably over the group like a scythe posed to reap as everyone sat in awkward silence and waited for Axa to break the silence. So she drained her goblet, got out her pipe and her whiteleaf, and with a grim sense of determination, she told them about it.

About the career she'd built back in Ixamitl, where she had lucked into a scholarship to one of her hometown's more prestigious lore colleges, bestowed on her by a generous politician acquainted with her father. Because she'd always loved to learn and hear stories about kith from around the world, she had chosen to put her good fortune to good use and study to become a naturalist, concerning herself with the cultures and languages and histories that constituted the kith population of Eora.

While most of her colleagues had decided to specialize in Vailian– a popular choice for the political or business-oriented crowd– Axa fancied herself an intellectual, and so she had challenged herself with mastering Ordhjóma: the exotic, mysterious language of the Glamfellen, separated for 10,000 years from their tropical Sceltrfolc cousins in the far-flung, frozen south, in The White that Wends. She had thrown herself into her studies, blowing through massive tomes and ancient scrolls like a hurricane, outperforming her peers with ease. Within four years, Axa had risen like a Dawnstar to the top of her class.

And then the field work had begun.

"It's one thing to read about a people, learn their language from books and study up on their culture," Axa explained, stuffing her pipe slowly, taking her time. "It's quite another to visit their homeland, speak with them, live among them. I was barely seventeen, I'd never even been out of the city..."

Kana winced, painful recognition in his black eyes. "Culture shock can be particularly difficult for younger scholars. We have certain expectations after all our years of academic study, and to find out that the genuine article doesn't quite measure up after all that work can feel disorienting and disappointing. There's not only the shock, there's anger at the natives, and then the guilt over said anger..."

Axa accepted Aloth's proffered light while Kana trailed off– it always delighted her, using arcane flame for something so trivial as a smoke– and sighed. "That's what was really odd about it. I did experience some culture shock, but ultimately the problem wasn't me. It was them. I know it sounds like I'm just being bitter, but... honestly, for whatever reason, the whole village really was actively freezing me out."

"Nice," Edér chuckled, grinning at the unintentional pun until Aloth's glare chastised him back into solemnity.

"No one wanted to talk to me," Axa continued. "Oh, I tried, incessantly, but they just... kept turning away, or answering with nonsense or... or riddles. My colleagues had little difficulty integrating, but I felt like I was just barely tolerated by the villagers. I tried asking the other students about it, but they either feigned ignorance really well or they honestly couldn't tell what these Glamfellen had against me."

"Some sort of... racial prejudice, perhaps?" Aloth looked as uncomfortable as he sounded, but at least the topic was finally broached. Axa shrugged.

"I don't think so, but I honestly have no idea. The other three scholars with me weren't orlans, but they weren't Glamfellen either. And no one ever specifically said anything about my being an orlan."

Sagani nodded. "In my experience, while most Glamfellen tend to be as standoffish as any elf– no offense, Aloth– they don't usually have specific prejudices like that."

"Right? Ordinarily, unity and hospitality are taken very seriously in the frozen south; to support one another is indispensable to survival. Nevertheless, I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong by them, and it was driving me out of my gods damned mind. I was supposed to be studying local accents, dialects, and colloquialisms, but that's somewhat difficult when nobody will actually speak with you. So I ended up spending a lot of time eavesdropping on people, mostly outside, by myself."

Sagani shook her head, drawing her whetstone across her hunting knife. "Bad idea to go it alone out there in the White. All kinds of dangers hiding in the snow."

The orlan barked a sharp, sardonic laugh. "You're telling me. That's how I met Vaargys."

As soon as his name was out of her mouth, Axa could feel her entire demeanor transform, and the atmosphere in the room with her. It was the first time she'd said his name since she'd left home, and even though she knew they'd already been listening, her little audience really seemed to be listening now. She felt her face get warm and her eyes sting from the impending tears, so she turned to the window, trying hard to focus on the streets outside and not at her own reflection in the glass.

Come on, girl. You’ve run far enough. It's time you faced this.

"I spotted him from afar one day at dusk: a dark, distant, shaggy figure out there among the rocks, shambling around just beyond the village's borders. It took me a few minutes to even realize he was kith. My colleagues noticed me watching him eventually, warned me away from him: the 'wild man' the locals called the 'Cursed Vagabond,' the 'Exiled Priest.' And he was out there all alone, struggling to survive because nobody wanted him around, and no one could say why..."

"You had a lot in common," Aloth murmured gravely. It wasn't difficult to see where this story was going. And he couldn't help but think it sounded similar, thematically, to one he knew quite well.

"And kith will paint a face on a rock with their own blood if it means they can have someone to talk to," Sagani sighed sadly, sympathy heavy in her chest. She could see where this was going too, and she dug her fingers into the thick fur on the back of Itumaak's neck for comfort. He grunted in appreciation.

"So I introduced myself, like you do. He was... cautious, but receptive. It helped that I'd brought gifts." Axa exhaled, and blue smoke curled up before her, walling her off. "We got to know one another, and over time we became fond of each other. We started sharing meals and stories about ourselves, our lives. He told me he was a priest of Wael, self-taught, and exiled from his clan for venerating the Eyeless Face instead of the Beast of Winter... He let me get close to him, cut his hair, tend to his wounds..." The tears spilled over at last, and she paused for a moment, hid her face.

"And you fell in love," Sagani finished for her. Classic. Tale as old as time.

Axa smiled again even as she brushed her tears away, dragging her little fist across her golden brown cheeks. "And I fell hard. I was his first real friend, gave him his first kiss. And very soon, I became his first lover." This made the men blush and look away. Axa and Sagani paid them no heed.

"I was fascinated by him, and he adored me. We made our own little world together there in the caves, in the snow. And we lived there, separate from everyone and everything else. Until I had to return to Ixamitl, of course. But I had a plan: Before I could talk myself out of it, I asked him to marry me– the very night before I was to return to the Eastern Reach. ...Gods, I had known him for only five months."

"And... wait, how old were you?" Edér spoke up for the first time since Axa had started her story, confusion clear on his face.

"I– Seventeen, almost eighteen by the time I went back home," she clarified, miffed at the interruption. "I'm twenty-two, now."

The blond man held his hands out in front of him, squinting at his fingers, baffled. "And... and how old were you when you left home? Hey, how old was he?"

Kana sighed and leaned over, patting him on the shoulder with one huge hand and confiscating the man's pipe with the other. "Erh– Never mind that now, my friend. Please, Axa, continue." He smiled that big, toothy smile at the little woman, and she blinked very slowly.

"...I brought him home to meet my family and colleagues, to assist me in my studies since all I'd really brought back from the Land was him, and ultimately, hopefully, to become my husband. In the interest of brevity– albeit somewhat belated– here’s how all that turned out: my family and colleagues hated and distrusted him, and after I had defended him so fiercely I'd alienated myself from most of my peers, I found out that about three-quarters of everything he'd ever told me about his home and his language was complete horseshit and all of our work together was complete bunkum. So! I burned it all in a big bonfire behind our house before telling him to leave and never come back." She ticked her misfortunes off on her fingers as she described them, her hands trembling, and then gesticulated fiercely before letting her fists fall to the small tabletop before her. "And then... I left, too. And now, here I am."

...Gods, that was easy. Much easier than I thought it'd be. Why was it so–

She rambled on before she could lose her nerve. "So. That's why I... wanted to do that for Kaenra. My fiancé lied to me and fucked up my life, too, and I can't just ignore that kind of shit when I see it anymore." She sighed, turning to the window again with her pipe still burning away in her hand. "Vaargys is the reason I had to leave my home and everything I've ever known, because his lies ruined my career and my academic standing and my reputation. How could I just stand by and watch as it happened to someone else?"

"Yet, you advised Kaenra to forgive Purnisc?" Aloth twisted his fingers together in his lap, staring at them rather than looking at Axa as he spoke. "After... all he'd done?"

Sagani glanced at him, narrowing her eyes as he reached up to smooth his hair– and wipe away a stray bead of sweat in the process. Is it my imagination, or is he...?

Axa kept her gaze fixed on the street below. "Yeah, that sort of surprised me too, to be honest." She spotted a stray soul, its violet wisps of essence drifting slowly amongst the city goers, and she squeezed her eyes shut, felt them burn behind her eyelids. "I suppose... I just got the feeling that it wasn't too late for them, that what they had for each other wasn't so broken it couldn't be repaired. Vaargys and me... not so. There was no coming back from what he'd done, and we both knew it."

"Whatever became of him? Of Vaargys?" Kana leaned forward eagerly, his eyes shining with compassion. For once, he actually wasn't taking notes on the conversation, and Sagani noticed that, too.

Axa opened her eyes, and saw the lost soul on the street no more. She shuddered. "After I confronted him, Vaargys simply... left. Vanished into the horizon, just as abruptly as he'd first appeared to me. And then, I got to clean up after him– after us– all alone. I wasn't up to the task; wasn't really up to the task of anything but hiding in bed and regretting my entire life. I could really only scrape together the wherewithal every now and then to go out and sell off or give away all the ridiculous trinkets and baubles we'd accumulated together. A few of the things I tried to get rid of turned out to be stolen, of course– big surprise, Axa, he's a thief and a liar– which did my already brutalized image no favors. Nor my purse, when I was obliged to pay out of my pocket for his chicanery."

"Villain," Kana spat, shaking his head slowly. "Scoundrel! ...Oh, how dastardly, to sow discord between the woman he loves and her neighbors and colleagues, then to abscond, completely free of reproach!" His sorrowful frown was as huge and expressive as his smiles always were, almost theatrically so.

Sagani just barely looked over in time to spot Aloth surreptitiously roll his eyes, and she couldn't suppress her grin. I thought so. Ondra's Lure, they're pretty obvious now that I think of it...

The elf cleared his throat and took the reins. "Shall we assume, then, that your family and friends were unable or unwilling to aid you in your time of need?"

Axa scoffed. "My little brother was sympathetic, but ultimately powerless to help me. He's stuck too far under our mother's thumb. He's a Godlike, and it's made things... difficult, for both of them. He feels obligated to her. As for our mother, she blamed me for my own misfortunes, for 'shacking up' with a man like Vaargys in the first place. So... that sort of says it all about our relationship. My father hasn't been in the picture since I was 13, and any non-academic friends I hadn't already traded for school, I ended up trading for Vaargys. I'd made him my whole world, and he–" She stopped herself, puffed on her pipe. "I don't... really make new friends easily. Never have."

Kana laughed good-naturedly. "With all due respect, present company seems to indicate quite the contrary."

"Ha! Since becoming a Watcher with her own castle who offers to help everyone she meets solve all their problems, I do seem to be quite popular, yes," the orlan agreed with a wry smirk. "...I jest, of course. In any case, the friends I do make, I tend to keep. And cherish." She smiled at Kana earnestly, and now he averted his eyes and went ruddy in the face.

Sagani and Aloth surprised one another, simultaneously faking coughing fits to cover their derisive snorts. Kana went even redder, but still managed a sheepish smile as Axa quickly redirected back to the topic at hand.

"In any case, it was my mother who gave me the idea to relocate to the Dyrwood. She brought back the notice advertising the caravan from the marketplace, threw it at me as I lay in my little nest of quilts and despair, and told me I had better either try and do something to rebuild my life or I may as well just return my soul to the Wheel to start a new one, save it some time and trouble."

"So... in response to your fiancé sabotaging your career and your reputation in your own home community, your own mother told you to... choose between self-exile and suicide?" Aloth spoke very quietly, very carefully. When Axa nodded and shrugged, puffing nonchalantly on her pipe, he couldn't quite come up with anything to say to that.

"As harsh as it sounds," she pressed on as she rose and crossed the room to stand before the hearth, "I agreed with her. I still do. Mama grew up a slave and only finally earned her freedom by running away, so maybe she's biased, but... I was never going to be able to move on like that, lying around like I was dead already, surrounded by bad memories. I had to do something, get up and get out. And wouldn’t it be my luck, she dropped a nice, pre-packaged escape plan in my lap, just like that. Nicest thing she'd done for me in a good long while. ...So. That's what lead me to the Dyrwood."

"And then it lead you to the bîaŵac, the Engwithan ruins, the machine," Kana murmured, rubbing his chin and studying the little woman. "Perchance, did you ever pray to Wael that you might live an interesting life? Because if so, you've had your wish granted many times over!"

"It's funny," Axa sighed as she bent and tapped her pipe against the bricks of the fireplace, "you'd think I'd hold a grudge against Wael, allowing Their priest to make a fool of me like that. But in the end, I had to admit that although he betrayed my trust and wrecked my life, Vaargys hadn't actually ever violated any of Wael's tenets. ...Made me rethink the gods, a bit. Maybe he was a true servant of Wael after all, sent to guide me here for some reason. And I do still pray to Wael for guidance, on occasion."

The aumaua sat up in his chair, beaming. "Ah! Shall we go to the Hall of Revealed Mysteries tomorrow after all, then? We can ask the scriveners' opinion!"

"Gods! I spill my guts to you, and you're still thinking about going to the library?" Axa shook her head and chuckled. "You're a mystery, Kana."

"Wait, so... you were gonna marry a pale elf?" Edér mumbled into his pillow, half asleep and trying to kick his boots off. "But you're an orlan. Would that... how would that work?"

The little woman threw the sheets back on her bed, using a little more force than she'd meant to. "Another mystery, Edér," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Mysteries abound."

The other two men winced as Sagani laid a gentle, steady hand on the orlan's shoulder. "Hey. ...Hel of a day for all of us. Let's call it a night, yeah?"

So they did.

—

[sweetheartyuta]

Prince! Jungwoo

Not gonna lie, to most people he looks absolutely terrifying, his royal standing, tall frame and sharp jawline could easily trick anyone into thinking he was scary 

On the contrary, he so badly wants to make friends and prove to his villagers that he’s anything but menacing

He didn’t want to be treated like a prince at all, in face he loathed the title, he’d rather keep his own room clean and help in the kitchen making dinner so that the palace workers were given a small break.

He hated people feeling inferior to him as a result of his title, he wanted everyone around him to be treated equally and fairly.

He found the most comfort when he was amongst the animals at the stable, making sure they were well fed, they carried no judgement and he was never pestered by anyone, in that moment he was no prince, just jungwoo in his little hideaway.

He’d take the horses out of the stable and train them on the land he had but wasn’t allowed to venture outside of the castle walls as a result of his mother and fathers’ iron first. 

He was close to the maids, regarding them as his only friends and appreciated them for treating him as such, no title included. He confided in them, often opening up to them about his thoughts and feelings 

The palace staff often held sympathy for the young prince, isolated in the castle, no friends his own age and as a result of his parents being King and Queen there was very little interaction between them due to making appearances.

If given the chance, he’d trade his life as a prince in a heartbeat for a normal life.

As he grew older his “home” started to feel more and more like a prison and the more he wanted to break out and away from his parents grasp.

He slowly felt like he was going insane, being so isolated. His parents were so often in other countries, dealing with royal affairs and were none the wiser to their sons’ loneliness.

Jungwoo decided enough was enough and drew a deal with the castle staff, with them allowing him one day of freedom a week to go into the town, leaving a change of everyday clothing outside of his room so that he didn’t bring any unnecessary attention to himself. 

The guards knew of the risk but complied with his wishes so long as he keeps a low profile, them secretly being excited that he was going off into the world on his own and holding resentment against his parents for always leaving him behind.

He’d take money to those in need, disgusted by how comfortably his family lived and yet there were people in such dire need so he did what he could without being discovered.

He never showed his face to those he helped, scared that they would treat him differently or refuse his help because of who he was.

After a few more visits into the town, the village conditions had bettered and poverty was lessening, leaving only one mysterious figure to thank.

When returning back to the castle from his most recent visit, a guard who was visibly panicked approached him, letting go of a breath he’d been holding

“I’m so glad you’re back young prince, your mother and father are due back in half an hour, take this back to your room and quickly change” handed him a pile of royal clothing 

He thanked the guard and ran to his bedroom, changing into his formal wear and placing his casual clothes into the back of his drawers, making it back downstairs with just enough time to spare to greet his mother and father on arrival 

but this time there was a girl alongside them, confusion written all over his face 

His mother chided him “Jungwoo, don’t be rude to your future wife” 

and he honestly choked on air because 

what the fuck 

what the fuCK

whAT THE FUCK 

Livid was not even the word. His own parents had used him as a bargaining chip to unite two different counties and keep the peace between them. 

He also felt sorry for the girl he was due to marry too as she probably wasn’t for the marriage either but had been coerced by her own parents but he didn’t care, this was the last straw. 

Jungwoo saw his parents maybe twice a year if he was lucky yet for some reason they thought it would be okay to marry him off to someone without any consideration of his thoughts or feelings 

he felt like part of a business deal, cheap. And he wasn’t about to let that happen.

He stormed off to him room, mother and father crying after him but for Jungwoo there was no turning back now and he put a plan in action, he would not be used as currency.

He locked his door and waited up until the early hours of the morning and ran away, heading in the direction of the town he knew so well and loved dearly, all those times sneaking out coming in handy.

He knew the village and castle would know of his absence come morning, leaving his parents a letter, giving his reasons for running away, namely being his wishes to find love on his own terms. 

It was still dark by the time he made it into the centre of the village but he kept moving, knowing he couldn’t stay there for long as he would be quickly discovered.

He advanced to the outskirts of the village where the woods were located, stepping over a few branches when he fell, a searing pain shooting up his legs, making his yelp.

You dropped the firewood that you’d been collecting after hearing a pained shout coming from an area nearby, searching for the owner of the voice you see a figure holding their ankle as you rush to help them.

You wouldn’t typically let a stranger into the house at sunrise though in this state, the man posed no threat to you.

You decided to get him to your house first where you could examine his injury better, you looked down at him and realised that the man was very handsome, you crouched to his level as he attempted to cover his face which you thought was as a result of being injured but Jungwoo was afraid of being found.

You pulled his arm down from his face, willing the man to look at you “can you walk” 

Jungwoo nodded, bewildered at the fact you didn’t know who he was but was in no position to answer any questions on the matter and so was glad he wasn’t a familiar face to you 

He tried to stand, grunting in pain, you rushed to his side, swinging his arm over your shoulder to help take some of the weight off of his leg, and starting the small walk back to your house which was situated in the middle of the woods 

As you walked together, Jungwoo took the opportunity to scan your face, you were absolutely beautiful, the warm glow of the moon illuminating your angelic features, he’d never spoken to anyone around his age but still felt instantly comfortable with your presence due to your kindness and reassuring aura. 

He was a total strange to you and yet you still rushed to his aid and half carried him to your own house so he was already indebted to you.

You made it home and got straight to work at examining Jungwoos’ leg, using your limited knowing of nursing from your mother which was enough to know that his ankle was badly sprained, not broken thankfully.

You racked the cupboards looking for the herbal medicines your mother made as Jungwoo broke the silence and decided to ask a few questions 

“How long have you lived in these woods for?” 

You turned and smiled, leaving his heart soaring at the sight

“All my life, I live here with my mother picking herbs and plants to make into remedies for the doctors in village, that’s how we make our money but most of the time we don’t accept it, we know enough about the land to live off of it, we just like to help out as much as we can, no one knows the forest like my mother does.”

Jungwoo put the pieces together in his head, you rarely ventured from the forest, explaining why you hadn’t recognised him but hearing of your good deeds did not help the erratic pounding of his heart 

“Your mother and yourself are very good people, please, is there anything I can give you as a thank you for helping me?”

You turned, finally finding the herbal mix you were looking for “your name” you laughed, realising that the both of you still were strangers to each other. 

He smiled, and it was a heavenly sight, it was only then you realised the full of extent of beauty of the man before you, even with some twine and leaves stuck in his hair. 

“My name is Jungwoo and yours is?” 

Realising you’d been staring for too long you startle “Oh! My name is Y/n! “ 

You have a beautiful name, it compliments you well 

You turned back around to face the cupboards, making sure he didn’t witness your face turn the same colour as the roses you had picked earlier that day. 

You collected yourself, turning wrap Jungwoo’s ankle, applying the herbal remedy and warpping the cloth around his ankle as gently as you could, he winced quietly, guilt washing over you as you whispered a soft apology, Jungwoo reached for your hand making you look at him as he giggled.

“It’s all right, it was my fault for being clumsy enough to fall in the first place though it appears I’m falling again” 

You didn’t quite understand what he meant by that so you focused on making a warm brew, infusing it with medicine and handing it to him before deciding to go back into the forest to quickly retrieve the firewood you dropped earlier.

Concern flooded his face, it still wasn’t light outside and he was concerned about you going back out there on your own, he hopped to your side “I’ll go with you” 

You laughed softly “Jungwoo, you haven’t given your ankle any time to heal, the forest is my home and I know it well, I’ll be back in no time, I need to make a fire to keep us warm, I should say, you’re welcome to stay a few nights, I saw your bag and realised you probably don’t have anywhere else to go, besides it’s nice to see a new face. My mother often goes into town for a couple of days at a time delivering medicine so it can be quite lonely”

He nodded in return, understanding the feeling more than most would

He visibly calmed upon your return, watching you throw the pieces of wood you had collected into the fireplace and afterwards taking a seat next to him and sparking up a conversation. 

You quickly opened up to him, talking about anything and everything, feeling so instantly comfortable with him, you both related to being outsiders of the town and it wasn’t long before Jungwoo confessed his true identity to you 

He wholeheartedly liked you and if he wanted to get to know you further he wanted to give you as much truth and honesty as you had rewarded him.

The news came as a total shock to you as a result of how grounded and down to earth he was

though it did explain why such a handsome man was walking around the forest himself in the early hours of the morning.

“So you ran away?” you questioned

He nodded, continuing “ In the time I’ve spent here I’ve felt more welcomed into your home than I ever did my own, I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t call a search, they tried to pick my destiny for me and so, I ran away, I wasn’t having those decisions taken from me” 

You shook your head, empathising with the young man “I’m so sorry that happened Jungwoo, everyone should be in charge of their own destiny” 

“I’m not sorry it happened anymore, I met you” 

While caring for Jungwoo, days continued and not once had you asked him to leave, so he didn’t. He stayed and days turned into months and soon enough, he had asked you to marry him, knowing from that night that you would be his beginning and his end.

There was nothing better than waking up beside him each morning, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he was protecting you from harms way even in his sleep, legs tangled together and your bodies fitting together like a puzzle piece, made for each other.

When you kissed it was like all of the stars had aligned in your favour, he knocked the breath from your lungs in the best way, disappointed when you ultimately had to break away to catch your breath, Jungwoo lowering himself so that he could rest his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair, talking to him about whatever was on your mind.

You’d spend days together showing him the right herbs and berries to pick to help you and your mother in the future and which herbs to avoid.

You smiled at his reaction to the deer cautiously making its way towards you both, the adoration in Jungwoo’s eyes was clear when you pet the deer’s nose, you had such a close bond with it as you had helped your mother raise it as a baby when she found it abandoned by his mother in the forest, before releasing him back into the wild when it was fit and ready. 

Jungwoo had found it so easy to fall in love wit you, he loved every part of you, you were the escape he was looking for, and in meeting you he knew he’d made the right decision in running away from the palace because in you, he’d found his destiny.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I really like how this turned out after some serious editing, let me know what you think! 

Bunny x 

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Scythes And Stories Chapter 4 - Death And Freedom

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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

Ariadne heaved in several deep breaths, trying to calm herself and clear her head. “I… You cannot expect me to make such a huge decision on the spot like this!” she replied shakily. “I can, and I will. Either you come now, or you stay and try to live on your own. I can promise you you will never find me again.” Anna said harshly, sparing no sympathy for the privileged princess. But that’s not true. You’ve privileged to let her live, and to hear your voice, Anna’s soul whispered again. “Fine. I’ve made my decision. I will come with you. But only in one day’s time.” Ariadne said, jarring Anna back to herself. “If you planned to kill me, I’d be dead. This I know. I also know that you are well within the capability to find me again. So I will come. But I need to take care of something first. Either you allow that.... Or I allow myself to be kidnapped.” Ariadne finished, stubbornly turning her gaze to Anna. Saying nothing for another second, Anna turned the deal over. Examined it. And finally spoke. “You’re a gutsy one, it appears. Very few would be doing anything other than begging for their lives in your position.”

“I don’t beg, nor will I ever.” Ariadne replied, saying nothing else.

“Fine. You get one day, and not an hour more.” Anna said, turning to the window. “Do not make me regret this, princess.” and with that, Anna turned, kissed Ariadne on the cheek, and disappeared out the window.

Shocked into stillness, Ariadne’s thoughts were whirling. It was not uncommon for people in her kingdom to greet and say goodbye to each other with a kiss on the cheek. But something about that one felt different. More kind, if that even made any sense. Something beyond just the politeness of the action. Strangling the mysterious butterflies in her stomach, Ariadne sat. And then, her thoughts rose. “Why did I let her stay? Why did I talk to her? And why do I even believe anything she is saying?” all these questions and more flew through Ariadne’s head. And unbidden, the answers rose. The answers that shine far too brightly. The answers that would be more palatable to keep hidden. You let her stay because you were entranced by her. Because she is free, and the clearest view of the outside world you have ever had. These are also the reasons you talked to her. She is new, and dangerous, and you are young and gullible. As for why you would believe her, it is because she is voicing what you were already beginning to think. Shaking her head to clear the accusatory statements from within herself, Ariadne spoke. “No matter what, she is an assassin and has killed countless people. I will not soften towards her, and run as soon as possible. But first, I need to make my exit.”

Christopher rose. Quietly, calmly, he corked a stopper and slipped it into his bag. The shop was once again closed for the night, and the sun was setting, staining the sky in fire. “You’ve made it this far. Do not mess this up now.” he thought to himself. After all, he’d worked for this. The hours of faking being sick, flailing in pain. The hours of ingesting poison after poison to harden his resolve and increase his immunity. All those hours and all that blood and pain would not be for nothing. After he left this night, there would be nothing left but ashes, smoke, and the ruin of a once magnificent kingdom.

As the castle’s apothecary, Charles was in charge of scanning all the king and queen’s food for poison. Then, a servant would test it. On this particular night, there was a teenage servant. A boy named Raymond, with wide brown eyes and a sweetheart he would die for. And this particular servant was Christopher’s friend. Who had been by his side since he arrived. “This is the moment. This is for your parents and Anna, wherever she may be. All the plans are in place, all I have to do is follow through.” breathing deeply, Christopher prepared himself. “Only one more hour of servitude, and you can shatter the illusion.”

Ten minutes of quick footsteps and casual greetings and velvet covered hardwood floors, Christopher arrived at the King’s dinner table. “Good evening, my King. I pray you are well.” Christopher said, shoving down the howling protest at submitting to a king who ruined his life. “I am good, thank you. I trust the ordinary routine will still suffice?” the king replied, already in his chair. “Yes, my King. I will search your food for poison, and then Raymond here will take a bite.” Christopher said, gesturing to the quiet serving boy beside him. “Excellent. Well, let’s begin shall we? I wish to dine before the sun fully sets.” he added.

“Yes of course my King.” said Christopher, bowing. He then retrieved his apothecary pack from the satchel he’d been carrying. Quickly but thoroughly checking all the dishes, Christopher with deft hand uncorked the bottle and dribbled the crystal clear, odorless liquid onto the King’s favorite dish, hiding the bottle again quickly. “My check is complete, my king. If you wish it, Raymond will now check the food?” Christopher said, stepping back. “Well, one thing first.” the king said, and Christopher’s heart jumped into his throat. “Do you have any sort of container with chemicals contained within your clothes?” the king asked, raising his eyebrows and turning to face Christopher.

Sensing very quickly that lying would be useless, Christopher kept his face blank, and nodded. “Yes I do, my King. The only one currently on my person is my own personal brew, to help me sleep at night. I’ve had a bit of a cold recently, so I’ve been using that. I must have forgotten to leave it back at my shop. Apologies, my king.” Christopher said, keeping his voice even and eye contact steady. Cocking his head, the king considered this. Years of calmly staying out of the way and acting like a bumbling fool helped Christopher now, and the king nodded. “I trust you. However, I would like to examine this brew myself. It’s a new precaution, suggested by my right hand. I’m sure you understand.” Christopher’s breath caught in his throat, but he replied. “Of course, my king.” removing the bottle from his cloak, he handed it over to the king’s right hand, Julius, who deftly examined it. “I can confirm this has all the makings of a simple sleeping potion. This is not harmful to you, my king.” the right hand said, handing the bottle back to Christopher, who dipped his chin in thanks, all the while thinking “Thank the heavens I had the foresight to disguise this.”

“Thank you, Julius. Now that that’s out of the way, Raymond may test the food.” the king said, clearly desperate to be done with this whole affair. “Oh don’t worry, you will be done with much more in just a few minutes time.” Christopher thought, hatred burning in his chest. Stepping forward, Raymond sampled each of the dishes, taking a bite out of each and swallowing before quickly moving on. Once finished, he stepped back. And now, the pinnacle. The breaking point. Could Raymond mask the effects of the poison for long enough to escape and grab the antidote Christopher stashed? Would the years of training be enough? Christopher waited with bated breath as the king looked for any sign of illness. After a few moments that seemed more akin to years, the King gestured Raymond away. Bowing, he turned and quickly walked out of the room. And thus, Julius left and the king began to dine. After being bid his leave, Christopher waited outside the door. Waited for the choking to begin. And once it did, he stepped back inside, met the king’s gaze, and smiled.

“Please, tell me how it feels. To be the one on the receiving end of somebody else destroying your life.” Christopher said, slowly strolling towards the king. He’d dined alone tonight, and was currently fighting to stay upright as he fought for air. Gurgles came from him that Christopher thought to be attempts at words. “This is for my mother. And my father. And my sister. This is for the assassins you’d ordered to be sent to their house. Just because they dared to show kindness, helping those less well off then them. But you can’t have that, can you? You cannot stand the poor trying to help themselves so you killed my family. To make a statement about those who’d dared to try and defy the crown. And then you brought me here. Thinking I didn’t remember, and never would. Well, I did remember. I always have. So this is my revenge. Maybe after this, I’ll be able to fight the nightmares.”

All throughout this, the king had struggled, but it was no use. The poison was deadly without an antidote, and he had not had enough warning. Waiting until the king’s struggles stilled, Christopher sighed. And then sprung into action. His bag was already packed with everything he needed. Christopher dashed out the door, down hallways and into passages and rooms, hiding from any person he saw. Within a few minutes, he was out of the castle. Dashing down the streets and around corners, Christopher ran. He ran as the dam broke inside him that he'd held for years. Making it into a back alley no human had laid eyes upon for years, Christopher slipped inside an abandoned building. Made his way to a storage closet. Slid down to the floor. And began to sobb. Tears racked his body and he shook. He was a gentle soul, put out of his element for the sake of darker things. And now, despair grew within him. But something else grew within him. Something golden and elusive, called hope.

Ariadne was burning. On fire with vindication and vengeance. On fire as she hid in different corners of the castle. She’d told her parents she’d be staying in her room tonight. Rose had seen her tearing the room apart, and turned a blind eye. Perhaps something within her told Rose that Ariadne was waking up. And oh she most certainly was. “I am not staying here any longer. My parents can weep about it for all that I care. However, I will remove Charles from the picture. My last act of pettiness will be this.” Ariadne thought to herself as she quietly worked her way towards the men’s barracks, flint and steel in her bag. It was rare for a Commander to sleep in the same barracks as his men. But Charles, new to his job, had yet to make the move. A fact Ariadne said thanks for. “I know he will survive this. But maybe not for long. Maybe he will die of despair after losing his good looks.” Ariadne thought, laughing to herself. “Either way, I should be able to escape the castle tonight. I will wait for Anna to arrive tomorrow. Then, I will leave. And I will finally be free of my cage.”

Reaching the barracks, Ariadne heaved a sigh of relief at her good luck. None of the soldiers were around, all of them patrolling and practicing in the art of war. So, Ariadne slid into a wardrobe. Drew her midnight black cloak around her. And waited.

About an hour later, as the sun began to set, the men filed back in. Laughing and talking to each other, joking and throwing things and swearing. Ariadne could overhear snippets of conversation, though nothing truly interesting. Who had beat who at dueling, who stole what, who was going to do what on their free day. Sighing, Ariadne settled in. “This is going to take quite a long while, won’t it?” she thought. “Oh well. I’ve waited years, I can wait a few more hours. And wait a few more hours she did. The most interesting thing that happened over those hours was somebody opening the door to her hiding place. Ariadne froze at this, barely daring to breathe. But he shut the door quickly, shouting that whatever it was wasn’t there. Exhaling, Ariadne allowed herself to breath again. And then finally, finally, darkness fell and all the soldiers slept. She slipped out of her hiding place and retrieved her flint and steel. Spotting Charles asleep on one of the beds, she began scraping the flint and steel together. It didn’t take long for her to shed several sparks onto the carpets on the floor. It caught quickly, going up in a blaze. Quickly sending more sparks into some of the drapes and a few empty beds, Ariadne then fled. Right out the door of the barracks, into the courtyard stained in moonlight. She could hear the panicked yells of the men from inside, but she spared them no more thought. Most would survive, though not without a cost.

Anna gazed down at the courtyard, spotting her quarry. She’d been keeping track of Ariadne ever since she jumped out her window, carefully making sure she didn’t alert the king. And now, Ariadne had just exited the barracks. And judging by the smell of smoke now coming from there, she had lit a fire. “Well well well Princess. We might just get along.” Anna muttered to herself. Ariadne moved in a flash then, making for the sidewalk that would eventually take her out of the castle. Jumping down, Anna tailed her, leaving the burning barracks behind her like a bonfire against the night sky.

Several tense minutes passed, and then they were both out of the castle walls. “Well, now is as good a time as ever.” Anna thought, and leaped into Ariadne’s way. Ariadne froze, but then recognized Anna and relaxed a fraction. Ignoring the ridiculous happiness that stemmed from that, Anna spoke. “I thought I would find you here, Princess. Been causing mischief have we?”

“You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” Ariadne replied, exasperated. “Why yes, I have. I had to make sure you were safe after all.” Anna said. And then, Ariadne did something magnificent. She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I highly doubt that was the case, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Ariadne then said. Anna, chuckling, replied. “I’m touched, Princess. And though I do hate to stop the jokes, we need to meet my accomplices quickly. They can get us out of the kingdom.” Sobering quickly, Ariadne nodded. And then, the pair took off quickly down the dark roads.

“Anna! Thank god!” Lucie called once Anna and Ariadne arrived at the meeting point (an abandoned apothecary shop). “What took you so long? We were just about to give up!” Matthew added. “Ask our Princess here. Oh, and this is Matthew and Lucie” Anna said, dropping into a chair. All three pairs of eyes turned to Ariadne, who shifted uncomfortably. “Not that I owe any of you anything… but I had some business to take care of before I came. Personal business.” she said finally, looking at the floor. Lucie and Matthew exchanged confused looks before turning to Anna. “Why does she speak as if she came willingly?” they both said simultaneously. “That is because I did. And no, I will not explain why, how, or answer any other questions. I was told you can help me escape the kingdom. I would like to do that, not dawdle around and argue.” Ariadne said, finally finding her voice. The other three, shocked into silence, looked at her. “Very well then. Let’s get going, shall we?” Lucie said. With that, all four headed out the door. “I like her.” Matthew whispered to Lucie. “Oh of course you do. You like anything with even one inch of sarcasm contained in its being.” Lucie replied before kissing him. “I love you, but please shut up and let us get out of this godforsaken kingdom.” she finished.

“You told the rest of the Ravens we’re leaving with Anna, correct?” she asked, and Matthew nodded as they arrived at the harbor. “And I staged the death in her bedroom. It’s torn apart, the nurse is missing, and there’s a fatal amount of blood that matches our Princess here. I made sure to bloody a dagger and leave it there. No fingerprints, obviously.” Anna chimed in saying. “From now on, Ariadne, you’re dead.”

Ariadne, eyes wide as she gazed out over the ocean, turned to Anna. “No, I’m not.” Ariadne whispered. “I’m free.”

Cordelia laughed out loud, punching James playfully on the shoulder. “I cannot believe you would say that!” she exclaimed, laughing again. “Oh come on Cordelia. You know I am joking?” James replied, laughing as he dodged another punch. “But does she know that?” Alastair interjected, wiggling his eyebrows in a rare show of non-cynicism. “Alastair, I love you, but you’re not helping this situation.” Thomas said, sighing with no real malice. They were all enjoying a day off, a day sequestered away from the real world. A day of nothing but laughing and jokes and lighthearted teasing. James kissed Cordelia quickly before drawing back. “There. Does that make up for any grievances I’ve caused you?” he asked, and Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe for now. But I will not forget.” She replied, smirking. “I am absolutely terrified right now.” James said in a comically monotone voice. “Alastair, my friend, will you save me?

“No, in fact I will not. You’re on your own here James buddy.” Alastair replied as Thomas facepalmed. “Should I hear any yells of pain from your general direction, I will investigate.” Thomas said. “Thank you Thomas, you are my savior.”

“Oh I am sorry, but that’s absolute-” Cordelia interjected, but was then cut off.

A royal page had arrived with a letter for Thomas and Alastair. He handed it over, quickly bowed, and exited the room. Glancing towards Thomas, who’d taken the letter, all three others raised their eyebrows. “Well? What does it say? Thomas?” Alastair asked, quickly standing up as Thomas paled. “What is it?” Cordelia asked as James tensed as well, reacting to the quickly changing atmosphere of the room. Alastair snatched the letter from Thomas, moved his eyes to the words, and began to read.

To the princes of Luna, and whoever else it may concern.

Solis has begun to deteriorate at an even faster rate, and several tragedies have struck them.

A very wealthy and influential woman, Lucie Herondale, has vanished. Her husband is frantic to find her, though it is suspected she might have fled the city for reasons unknown.

Commander Charles of the Royal Army is in critical condition after a fire at his barracks. It is currently unknown whether or not he will pull through.

Princess Ariadne has been killed. Currently, no culprits have been caught, but it is suspected that the notorious assassin, known only as the Lady of Death, is behind this. However, the princess’s death is not the worst of it, though she will be mourned with great fervor.

King Samuel has also been struck down. Poisoned. The believed perpetrator is the castle’s apothecary, Christopher. He may have been working in cahoots with another, though neither have been located.

Vesperum is rioting, just about tearing itself to bits. I send this letter with the purpose of informing you, as well as warning you. I will not dismiss the possibility Solis will attempt to strike at another kingdom, either out of misplaced blame or just pure fury. No matter what, things are shifting.

I wish you all the best from now until the sun falls from the sky.

Signed, Marcus L. Kingsway, Member of the Royal Council of Luna.

Alastair finished reading to a silent room. James had drawn Cordelia close, as if daring the world to try to hurt her. Alastair himself, now shaken, turned to Thomas and silently folded the letter back up. I will not let anything happen to you both boys said to the other silently, both vowing to keep that promise. As two young couples made promises, they became a different type of warrior. They became the type of warrior that survives the roaring waves of fury and unrest, and the falling of ancient and vicious kingdoms.

[oneyanderegirl]

Desire

Genre: One-shot, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Rating: T Sasuhina Month 2020 Theme Day 7 (Desire) 

A/N: I decided to skipped over Day 6. I swear I feel like every time I write, it gets longer and longer lol. Part of my one-shot series for Sasuhina Month 2020. You can read the other parts by going on my profile and clicking the fanfiction tab. They’re not written in a particular order since they are one-shots that are supposed to work as stand-alones, but there are hints here and there about when and where things take place. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Warnings: Mentions of death.  

@sasuhinamonth (in case this doesn’t show up in the tags)

It began on a whim.

Sasuke did not anticipate becoming this involved in her life.  

The woman named Hinata Hyuga was an odd mystery in his eyes.

They had known each other since childhood due to being born from the two biggest clans in Konoha. The Uchihas and Hyugas were famous for their rivalry as well as their prowess. He remembered attending several meetings with his family to socialize and discuss clan issues with the other prominent ones, including their rivals of course.

The adults had called it parties.

He called it boring.

But those days had long been over. The Uchihas had eventually died in cold blood because of the man known as Itachi Uchiha. He was one of the strongest shinobi to have ever lived in this world.

He was also Sasuke’s older brother.

Even that seemed like a far away memory now. Itachi was already dead. Sasuke had finally avenged his clan. Or that was what he had thought before he had found out the real reasoning behind his brother’s actions. The demise of the Uchiha clan was due to Konoha itself; they had been afraid of the Uchiha’s growing influence within the village and afraid of an uprising to overthrow the system in place. They had ordered Itachi to nip it before anything could take place. They had forced Itachi to kill his friends, lover, and even his own flesh and blood.  

Yet despite the horror that his brother was forced to go through, Itachi’s last wish was for Sasuke to continue to protect the very village that had essentially killed the Uchiha.

He never understood why his brother would still want to protect the village after what they had done to their clan. It had left Sasuke with more questions than answers. He could never tell what his brother was thinking. It was something that Sasuke was still trying to figure out. It was why he had decided to leave Konoha to travel in the first place.

He needed time to think.

He needed time to ponder. There were too many things to do, too many things to figure out. He couldn’t stay in the village. He had to leave. He had to in order to find the answers he needed.

So Sasuke travelled.

He travelled wherever the wind blew. Whether it was far or near, he would go. He would explore and learn about the different cultures that existed. He had developed a habit of recording what he saw and what he learned. It had almost become a ritual at this point. Sasuke didn’t mind though, rather he found it calming and fulfilling to do so. It gave him a purpose.

A hawk landed on a rock where Sasuke was currently sitting. The bird ruffled its brown feathers before dropping an envelope in front of him. He reached into his brown bag to grab a piece of dried fish and tossed it to the bird as a reward for a successful delivery. Sasuke watched the hawk squawk in joy as he eagerly devoured the food before looking at the letter he had just delivered to him.

The letter was wrapped neatly in a lavender colored envelope with his name written nicely in the front. There was also a blue paper charm that contained pressed petals from a sunflower taped next on top of the envelope. Sasuke was quite perplexed by the gift as he was not expecting anything from her.  

“ Sora, she’s quite persistent isn’t she?” He asked the hawk.

Of course, the hawk was much too busy enjoying his snack to respond.  

Hinata Hyuga.

She was the heiress to the Hyuga clan, famous for her highly developed Byakugan. Although they had attended the same academy and became shinobi around the same time, the two of them were mostly strangers towards one another. His most prominent memory of her was her famously large crush on his best friend during their genin days. Other than that, Sasuke could not really recall much about the woman other than her heritage.  

Yet for some reason, ever since the War had ended, she had constantly and desperately tried to seek him out.

He remembered that night when he had decided to visit Naruto to catch up about life and his travels, he had spotted her quietly watching them. At first, Sasuke had thought that it was his best friend who she had wanted to see, but then he noticed that she had kept staring at him instead. When he had finally finished talking with Naruto and started to leave, she had tried to follow him.

“ I...know this is a selfish request of mine, but...i-if it’s okay with you...I would like to see you again,” She asked between each breath.

Hinata slowly looked at the man towering before her. His cool expression gave away no emotion. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She wondered if it was a mistake to ask him.

“ What good will that do? We aren’t friends, Hyuga. I have no interest in doing so either. I have my own things that I have to do. If you want to grieve then do so at your own expense. Don’t come to me to do it,”

“ Please...Please, Sasuke-kun,” She whispered.

She begged him.

She begged as tears started falling from her tired eyes.

But Sasuke was already gone.

He quickly buried away the letter and the paper charm into his bag before starting to eat.

Sasuke was not stupid. He knew why she had seeked him out. It was like that when he had been hospitalized as well. She had seeked him over there too.  

“ If you’re going to come in, then just do it already, it’s already late.”  

Sasuke had felt a presence in front of his door. Surprised at who the person was behind the door, he made it known that he could tell she was there. He watched as Hinata slowly came into the room. He could make out the scrapes and bruises that had formed on her body from the War. What stood out the most though were her silvery eyes.  

They held no light within them.

“ I never expected you, of all people, would come and visit.” He said.

His words held no malice nor its usual coldness. Sasuke felt tired after all. The War had just ended only a few days prior, yet his mind was still not at peace. He watched the woman sit on the floor and bury herself into her hands and knees. Perhaps she too was tired.

Tired of war.

Tired of death.

Tired of the corrupt world that existed.  

Tired of living.

It didn’t matter though because in his eyes, Sasuke felt exhausted. He questioned the wish that his brother had left behind. Itachi had suffered due to Konoha, yet it was his dying wish for Sasuke to continue to protect it. Why? He couldn’t understand.

“D-do you think I’m being s-silly right now?” She suddenly asked.

Sasuke didn’t know what to say, so he decided to stare out the window to look at the moon. The moon was shining brightly in the sky, brighter than any of the stars. Yet despite the beauty it held, he could only think of how dull and lifeless the moon looked as it stood alone by itself in the vast darkness.

“ A-ah...Sorry. I know I sound a little strange right now. I apologize for disturbing you. I just had a lot on my mind lately. I’m sure you’ve heard that my...cousin had died.” Hinata tried to explain.

“ I know. I heard.”  

Neji Hyuga.

A Branch member of the Hyuga clan. He was regarded as a prodigy, much like himself, during their academy days. Although he never did get to properly fight him, Sasuke respected the man. Even though he was of a lower class, Neji had worked hard to make himself strong. He was probably the strongest Hyuga of their generation. When Sasuke learned of his death, he felt that it was a shame the Hyuga never received the proper chance to prove himself. “ How do you deal with the pain of losing a loved one?” She finally asked.

Sasuke kept staring out the window for what felt like an eternity before turning to face her. Neji had died protecting the woman he considered a sister in a way similar to how Itachi had tried to protect Sasuke. Though the methods they had taken in doing so were different, ultimately, they both had ended up dying in order to protect their most precious person. Though he could not understand why either of them had decided to make such a sacrifice, Sasuke knew one thing.

“ We move forward. We have to live. We have to strive to protect them. If we can’t protect their physical bodies, then the least we can do is protect their ideals. It doesn’t matter how much you cry or suffer, you have to live anyways. If you don’t, then it just means their deaths were in vain. Don’t waste the life they gave you.”

The words that he had spoken were more for himself than it was for her, but Hinata still looked surprised at his words.  They weren’t words of sympathy or pity. There were no apologies nor were there empty condolences within the words he had spoken. They were truly his own thoughts.

Words that he held in his heart because Sasuke knew that no one else would ever understand him. They would never understand the pain that he had to go through, the pain that he was still going through. The pain of not just losing a loved one, but of losing someone that had loved you more than anyone else in the world. More than their friends, more than their lovers, they had sacrificed their own lives due to the love that the two had held for them. That was how important Sasuke and Hinata were to their older brothers.

Perhaps that was why she had started crying when he had said those words to her.

She had cried and cried until there were no tears left. When the last of her tears were wiped, she had started to leave. She bowed to him before turning towards the door.

Sasuke didn’t know why she had decided to come to him for advice, but he knew that she was going through the same emotions that he had gone through. The grief that Hinata was experiencing was something that he was all too familiar with. For the first time, he felt something other than grief and rage bubble up inside of him. Perhaps the War had worn his heart out, but watching her cry had, in some ways, reminded Sasuke of himself.  

It had reminded him of the loneliness he had felt as he watched his clan members die.

It had reminded him of the helplessness he had felt as he watched his parents be murdered in cold blood. It had reminded him of the pain he had felt as he watched his brother, the last remaining family member, perish into the heavens.

An experience that no one should have to endure alone.  

“ Hyuga,” He finally called out, surprising both Hinata and himself.

The moment her pale grey eyes met his dark ones, Sasuke felt a sense of mutual understanding between them. An unspoken connection that had formed from their shared pain. Sasuke didn’t know why, but he felt the desire to comfort her in that moment. It was irrational of him to do so, it just wasn’t in his nature, yet that was the only conclusion he could come to as he tried to make sense of this unfamiliar feeling forming in his heart.

“ You’re not silly for feeling what you feel. Remember that.”

The only response she gave was a small smile before leaving his room.

Yet it was a smile he would never forget.

It had all begun at that point.  

The night after he had rejected Hinata’s desire to see him again, Sasuke kept thinking back to the hospital. He kept thinking back to the moment they had shared together. Her smile, her tears, her expressions, they kept preoccupying his mind. The emotions he had felt watching her as she reminded Sasuke of himself in his own grief was a strange experience. The desire to comfort her was odd. So out of this desire that he couldn’t get rid of, Sasuke had decided to allow her to write letters to him.

To his surprise, Hinata had graciously accepted.

She would write about once a week to him. Sometimes the envelopes felt very bulky. Other times, it would feel like there was no paper at all. Although Sasuke never wrote back, she still continued to write to him.

He never bothered to read them. When his hawk would fly by to drop the letters, Sasuke would just bury it in his backpack and forget about them. He was much too occupied with his own things to worry about hers. Still, she never stopped writing to him. It soon became a routine for them, she would write to him, he would shove it in his bag and continue on the day. He didn’t mind, she didn’t seem to mind either. So Sasuke left it at that.

But you could only travel alone for so long before the sensation of loneliness sinks in.

-----

One day, after almost a year of travelling alone, almost six months since Hinata had started writing to him, Sasuke suddenly felt a wave of loneliness hit him. It was a starless night with the moon hidden away, Sora had already flown into the forest to rest for the night while Sasuke laid in his sleeping bag trying to sleep. He was only halfway through slumber when he had woken up from a nightmare.

Nightmares were common for the Uchiha. He first started having them after watching his parents die. It was something that Sasuke had learned to get used to over the years.

But it was especially bad tonight.

Knowing he couldn’t sleep any more, Sasuke stared at the vast sky. The forest was eerily silent tonight. Not a sound could be heard. Even the wind itself was still. The darkness felt like a black void waiting to ensnare him. All he could see was a vast abyss of nothingness.

There were no stars.

The moon had disappeared.

There was no light.

It was then that the thought finally hit him.

Sasuke was truly alone.

When was the last time he had talked to Naruto? When was the last time he had a decent conversation with his friend? When was the last time he had seen him in person?

When was the last time Sasuke interacted with someone?

He felt the palms of his hands become sticky with sweat. His heart rate had jumped up significantly from his own panicked thoughts. His throat felt dry. His breathing became shallow as if there was no air left to breathe. He felt his body tremble with fear as if there was a monster hidden somewhere in the forest.

But there was no monster.

There was no one.

He was alone.

Sasuke couldn’t stand it anymore. He felt the need to leave. He had to leave. He had to do something, anything, to get this chilling feeling out of his mind. Grabbing his bag, he quickly opened it to get a drink of water to quench his thirst.

However, when he looked inside, he stopped.

Letters.

He had forgotten about the letters.

All his previous thoughts had vanished when he saw the piles of letters inside his bag. All of his attention had shifted to the letters Hinata had written to him. He had never bothered to read a single one. He was not interested.

But now, perhaps due to the discomfort and panic that he was feeling, Sasuke slowly reached into his bag for one. He chose one of the lavender envelopes with his name neatly on it. His fingers gently brushed against the surface, feeling each delicate stroke she had written so elegantly to ensure that he knew it was addressed for him.

Then he slowly opened it, careful not to rip off a part of the letter.

And he began reading.

He never realized how much she had written to him.

Some of the letters were as long as five pages, others were as short as one paragraph, but within each letter, Sasuke could tell that everything Hinata had written came genuinely from her heart. She wrote to him about various things. From trivial things, such as what she had for lunch that day, to much deeper topics such as the regrets she had felt after her cousin had died, she wrote about them all.

Sasuke faithfully read through each one, making sure not a word was missed. He wasn’t sure why Hinata had written so much, but he found her words comforting in a way. It felt as if he was getting to know her little by little through each letter. Before he knew it, the panic he had experienced earlier had already dissipated along with the isolation that he had felt. The only thing left over was a sense of tranquility. A new profound peace that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.  

Perhaps the reason why he had helped her that night in the hospital and why he had decided to let her write to him wasn’t because he had wanted to comfort her. Rather, it may have been because deep within his heart, he knew that the one who had wanted to be comforted was himself.

After reading about half the letters, Sasuke finally felt exhaustion hit him. He decided he would finish reading them in the morning, so he neatly placed each one back into his bag before laying back down in his sleeping bag. The moment he laid down, he felt sleepy. A tiredness that felt relaxing rather than full of distress. And as Sasuke finally fell asleep, a new unfamiliar emotion started to grow in his heart.  

It was desire.

A desire to see Hinata again.

[jiminwreckedme]

The Beautiful Deception.

Chapter 2

| Masterlist | Trailer | Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Memeber - Bts OT7

Genre - Thriller, Mystery, Angst, (Smut)

Word count - 5K

Summary - When your ex-boyfriend’s wife goes missing, you are the only one who can help him find her. But in a world where everyone is a friend and everyone is a culprit, where lies are decorated with the best ornaments of facade, where everybody and nobody is right, how will you find out what happened to the woman he loves?

Without falling for him all over again?

Warnings - Mentions of kidnapping and accidents.

Rating - NC17 for mature themes of the whole series.

15th February 2017 

10:14

“Do you want to....order a coffee or something?”

“I’m good. I only drink one coffee a day now, at 10.”

You subtly glance at your watch. 

10:15

“How have you been?”

You somehow find the need to clear your throat. “Uh-good, I’m yeah-good.”

10:16

10:17

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He confesses.  

“I didn’t either.”

“Why did you then?”

You sip on your coffee to avoid answering him but how long could you ignore it? 

“I don’t know.”

10:18

10:19

10:20

“I’m glad you came Y/n, thank you.”

You nod.

10:21

10:22

“Why did you call me? You said you needed help.”

“I’m not sure how to explain this….or even ask you to help.”

Why, because there was a time you left me helpless?

“But you asked me, and now I’m here, halfway across the globe. You might as well tell me.”

“I’m really sorry Y/n. I know you left a lot behind to come here for me-”

“No you don’t.” Yoongi looks up at you surprised. Was it because of the tone of your voice? Did it sound more bitter than you intended it to?

“I can understand why you’d think like that, and maybe I really don’t but…..” He takes a deep breath. “I’m desperate. I don’t know anyone else who will help me or even believe me-.”

“You thought I would believe you?”

“Will you not?”

10:23

10:24

“What do you need help with….Yoongi?”

It’s so hard to even take his name.

“She’s missing Y/n. I’ve been going crazy trying to find out how and why and-”

“Who? Who is missing Yoongi?”

“My wife.”

10:25

“To me, marriage is an insult to what we share. I will do whatever, and I mean it Y/n, I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, and as long as I make you happy, I will be there for you but….. a legal document to join our identities slapped onto the faces of our society? That’s not one of them. Ours is not a relationship that can be forged or ended with two signatures on a paper. That is a disgrace to what’s between us. For me it’s enough if you know what I feel for you, I don’t need anyone else to understand, I have nothing to prove to the world.”

10:26

10:27

“You-you’re married?”

Yoongi slowly nods “About 2 years ago.”

10:28

“Wow, I...I didn’t know- congratulations- I mean it’s been 2 years but it’s the first time I’m meeting you since the- I mean, your wedding so…..”

Stuttering so helplessly. What a fool.

10:29

“I’m sorry Y/n.”

You don’t say anything. What should you even say to that?

“I didn’t know how to tell you about it, it all happened so fast and you were…..”

“I know.” You don’t want to hear anymore, don’t want to know anymore. “It’s fine.... I can understand.”

Could you really? A man who never believed in the institution of marriage yet promised to be with you all his life, left you when it was most important to be by your side and as if that wasn’t enough, he was sitting here talking about a woman he married and was living with happily-

Then you realize what he said.

“D-did you say she’s missing?”

He nods. “11th April 2016. That was the last time I saw her.”

“What happened?”

“We had an argument that day about something. I don’t remember exactly what but it was trivial, I’m sure. We aren’t really the kind who fight.” I don’t need the details of your relationship with her. I really don’t. “She left the house after that, to go to work but she didn’t come back home the time she usually returns. I thought she was angry, taking her time to cool so she was going to come late. But she didn’t come home that night, nor did she return next morning. That’s when I started to panic and so I lodged a missing complainant and went around looking for her but I couldn’t find her and neither could the police. Not that day, not the next. The third day after she disappeared, that’s when I……”

He lets out shaky breath, “There’s a huge lake by her workplace. Three days later, the police fished out a car from there…..her car.”

Your lips part in shock.

“They…..” Yoongi struggles to speak. It hurts just looking at him like that. “It was apparently an accident, some sort of brake malfunction. The driver seemed to have lost control and just….”

He trails off, eyes shut tight.

“I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know-”

He shakes his head.

“They didn’t find her body though.” Oh. “They only found the drivers. She wasn’t there.”

You find yourself letting out a held breath. “So then she’s ok-”

“Missing.” He corrects. “Since the day she left, I don’t know where she is or how she is, what happened to her, if she’s even okay? I have answers for not one of those questions and I need to find out. Y/n,” He looks at you, the pain so stark in his eyes. “I need to find her. And for that, I need your help and more importantly, I need you to trust me.”  

You frown confused.

“If you do help me then most people who you come across will only discourage you but despite all that, I need you to trust me and whatever I say from now on.” You see his Adam's apple move as he swallows something. “Because Y/n, I think she’s kidnapped.”

Your eyes widen in shock, a strange fear gripping you.

“Nobody believes me when I tell them this but I’ve been trying to find out what happened and this is the only conclusion I could come to. The reason why her body wasn’t found was because she wasn’t in the car and she wasn’t in the car because she was kidnapped.” He states matter-of-factly. “But everyone I told this to, every one of them said that there was no evidence of her being abducted and that I was making up stories.”

His voice turned so bitter, frustrated as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“They showed me her credit card statement and said that transactions in a department store would not have been possible if she was really kidnapped.” He scoffs. “They said she left me and ran away. They said I couldn’t accept that my wife left me over the fight we had and so I was…...I was going mad. B-but trust me Y/n” He almost reaches for your hand on the table, stopping himself just in time. “I know her, she wouldn’t do that. She would’ve come back home that night itself, I’m sure she would’ve and the fact that she didn’t…...I’m sure something bad happened to her.”

He looks at you pleadingly. “That’s why I need your help, that’s why I need you to trust me and help me find her. No one else will Y/n, no one else is helping. The police, the media, organizations I’ve contacted,” He lists. “All of them say there’s no evidence, but honestly, I don’t think they tried to find any.”

All this, this was so much to process. You are still wrapping your mind around all the information when he continues.

Slowly nodding, you think of the right way to tell him what you felt about this without hurting him. But before you can open your mouth and tell him, Yoongi shakes his head.

“What? Are you going to tell me that if so many people are saying she was not kidnapped then maybe she’s not?”

Even after so many years, he still knew what you thought. 

“Fine,” For a second there it seemed like he agreed. “Let’s say she wasn’t then…..Prove it to me. Prove it to me that she really wanted to leave me and that she wasn’t kidnapped. I asked so many people to prove that she was alright, but no one could do it Y/n. It’s been about 10 months now and no one knows where she is.”

You swallow on nothing. Nobody knew where she was? Not even her family?

“I’m all the family she has. I’m the only one she has Y/n. I know she didn’t leave me. The only reason she’s not back is because she’s not able to come back to me, to come back home.”

You blink, once, twice, then again and again.

“What do you want me to do Yoongi?” You speak for the first time in very long.  “Why call me here for….this?”

“If you believe me and you help me, we can find her. 10 months Y/n, do you know how long that is to be away from someone you love?” What? “Every moment feels like-”

“Hell.”

And this is the moment everything changes. The sympathy you were feeling for him, the thoughts that were running through your head about how you can help him, the fact that you were so lost in his pain that you forgot yours. 

Everything changes.

Everything stops. 

“It feels like hell.” Your voice leaves you ever so softly, hands on your lap shaking, hidden from sight. “It feels like you've fallen into hell’s dreaded pit of thorns and your heart has been punctured a million times over by those tiny pricks. And it stings at first, it hurts and hurts and hurts until you feel numb - so numb, you begin to lose sense of everything around you. You think the numbness will go and let you feel again if you just let those wounds heal and you so slowly start to pull those thorns out, one by one, but it only makes more blood gush out. And it hurts all over again.”

Thanks to you Yoongi, I know exactly how it feels to be away from people you love for so long.

Yoongi nods like every word hits home.

“Help me Y/n, I’m tired of being so hurt, I need help and I don’t have anyone but you....”

As you look away from his intense gaze, hands tightly gripping your knees, this is what you want to say to him -

“I didn’t too Yoongi. That day when I left my house, my family, my whole world behind to come to you, I didn’t have anyone but you. I threw away everything for you and what did you do? You left me. I knew you were scared, I knew you weren’t ready but you should have said so. You didn’t say a thing and you just left. You broke me Yoongi. You broke me in ways I cannot even explain. I was in so much pain, I cried, I was hurt, I was angry, I blamed you, I blamed myself, I tried to move on, I tried to forgive myself and a part of me even managed to. When a man came along and said he would hold the broken pieces of me, I decided to let him. I should have been his wife today for god’s sake, but look at me. Once again, like an idiot, I threw everything away to come to you and what did you do? How did you think it was fair to sit in front of me without even offering me an apology and ask me to find the woman you now love? The woman who took my place? So many years Yoongi, we’ve known each other for so long but you didn’t value me enough to think that I deserved an explanation back then. And even now, you still don’t respect me enough to think I deserve an apology? Why Yoongi? How could you?”

You want to tell him all this but you can’t bring yourself to. 

Maybe because you have enough self respect to not beg him for an apology just to heal your ailing heart. Or because you have the dignity to handle your own pain and did not need to explain your wounds to your culprit who ignorantly sits before you. Or because you were shattered all over again by this man and needed to pick up the pieces of you once again. For whatever reason, you can’t say any of that.

“I’m sorry.” That’s what you say instead as you stand up. “I’m so so sorry. But I can’t do this Yoongi. I......I really can’t.”

With that you leave, walking away, avoiding looking at the hurt so evident on his face to protect the your own fragile heart. There was a time you had let Yoongi in there because of his pain. That was the first and last time. 

You were not going to make that mistake again.

18th February 2017

You: Usual place. 19:45.

“Y/n!”

You look up from the message you sent him to see Yoongi, skidding to a stop a few feet away from you. His chest is heaving up and down, mouth open desperately drinking the air, as his cheeks get redder and redder. He looks at the clock tower, far away down the street. He’s a few minutes too late but you’re still here. Relief floods his face. Till he spots the suitcase right next to you, your hand tightly holding on to it.

“Y-you’re-” He grips the sides of his stomach, wincing in pain. “You’re l-leaving Seoul?”

Abandoning your luggage right where you are standing, you turn wordlessly and push the cafe door, walking in. Yoongi’s eyes try to follow you but they fail, simply shutting as he bends over, resting his hands on his knees, as he tries to catch his breath. It’s only when your shadow falls over him that he looks up at you and the bottle of water in your outstretched hand.

Taking it he straightens out, nodding in gratitude, “I-I need a moment.”

“You ran?”

“I thought I was going t-to be late.” He pants audibly but they are getting less heavy by the minute. “I thought you’ll leave if I didn’t....”

Unlike you, I don’t run from those who need me.

He doubles over coughing and you quickly take the bottle from his hand and twist it open before handing it to him again. He drinks it this time, water spilling from the corner of his mouth, down his jaw and then his neck. You look away.

“Thank you.” His voice leaves him softly as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. As you hand him the bottle cap, once again his eyes fall on your suitcase, but before he can ask you about it, you answer him.

“I’ll help you.”

Holed up almost all the time in that hotel room of yours, you thought for two whole days. You thought and wondered and pondered about what should do but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t reach a convincing conclusion. 

Until yesterday evening, when you decided to finally leave the suffocation of the room to get some air and somehow found yourself walking by that same cafe. As you reminiscently glanced through the large glass windows, you remember how Yoongi looked when turned to see him one last time. The way his shoulders slumped, the way he just kept staring at nothing on the table, the way the hurt on his face deepened with every passing second. You couldn’t bear to look him. As the mirage of him slowly disappears, all those hundreds of thoughts in you head dissolve into one. I shouldn’t have left him like that. 

How did that make you any different from him? He left you when you needed him and you were doing the same now, you too left him without any explanation. This wasn’t some sort of revenge plot and you weren’t here to play tit for tat, you couldn’t even imagine doing something like that. In fact if not for that one thing he said you were certain you’d have offered to help him right there and then. But his words, they momentarily overpowered the pain you felt for him, they fueled your own agony making you walk away. 

But you shouldn’t have walked away. You should have stayed and been the bigger person. He called you because he trusted you to help him, he believed you would stay and deep down you knew, if you had called Yoongi in a situation like this, he would have stayed.  Because even though he fell out of love with you, even though you had moved on, even though the dynamic between you two was no longer the same, one thing didn’t change - the foundation of the relationship you once shared. It was so strong that even after so long, the two of you could still stand on it, unafraid that it would break.  

So no matter what Yoongi did to you, no matter what you went through because of him, regardless of whether he acknowledged it or regretted it, you should have stayed out respect for the past. And who knew? Maybe this was your chance to finally get what you want. Maybe during this time Yoongi might give you that answer and apology you so badly want to hear coming from the bottom of his heart. Maybe by the end of this you can finally leave him behind in your past and truly move on. 

I shouldn’t walk away. I should stay. 

“I’ll help you in whatever way I can Yoongi, but I want something in return.”

“What?”

“Let this be the last time you and I have anything to do with each other.” You tighten you grip on the handle. “Let’s never see each other again after this and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. ”

Letting out a soft breath, he searches as though there’s a hidden answer on your face. “Is that how much you hate me Y/n?”

“Hate?” You shake your head slowly. “Hate is still an emotion, something that establishes a relationship between two people. After this, I don’t think it’s right for us to have anything to do with each other anymore.”

He looks at you, long and hard, till the chime of the bell tower snaps the eye contact between you two.

“Fine,” He nods, sliding a hand into his pocket. Was he crushing the bottle in his other hand? “As you wish. When all of this is over, whatever you want will be done, I promise.”

Your promises don’t hold any value for me anymore Yoongi.

Silence.

It was the silence between two people who didn’t know what to say to each other anymore. There was nothing left to say-

“If you’re not leaving then…..” He points the bottle towards your suitcase.

“I don’t know how long I will need to be in Seoul and I’m not really comfortable living in a hotel so I’m going home.”

“Home?”  

Did he really already forget everything about me?

“I have a house in this city, Yoongi. My family owns a place here.”

“That house? That place has been abandoned for years Y/n,” Yoongi scoffs. “There’s no butlers, no chefs. How will you stay there? You don’t even know how to cook. And not to mention, it's probably drowning in dust and cobwebs and-.”

“You forget how long it’s been since you haven’t been a part of my life Yoongi.” You smile sadly. “I cook now and I am capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know.” He nods. “I know but you don’t have to. You’re here in this city to help me, it’s not right of me to leave you to manage on your own. You are my responsibility now, I can’t let you go there.”

You let out a soft incredulous laugh. “Then where should I stay?”

“With me.” He lets out casually. “In my house.”

You look at him, eyes slightly widen, lips parting.

“I know, I might be out of place suggesting it and I’m sorry but.... It’s for your comfort and most importantly, your safety. If you stay in your house, your family will know you are here, I’m sure you don’t want that”

“Why?” You frown. “What makes you think my family doesn’t know I’m here?”

“The fact that you came here just a day before your wedding?” What? “I don’t think you would be here had you informed anyone about coming to Seoul. And the fact that you came to help me?” Yoongi lets out a mocking laugh. “You grandfather would have locked you in the room till-”

“Yoongi.” You are still fixated on the first thing he said. “How do you know about my wedding?”

“Tabloids?” He shrugs.

“But how do you know that I left just before my wedding? No one but close family knew when the ceremony was going to happen. You couldn’t have read that anywhere.”

Yoongi looks at you but he’s not at a loss of words

“We are high society people Y/n. Our world is different from what the rest of the world sees. Our stories can be created, destroyed, altered, hidden, everything in a matter of seconds. They can also be found just as easily. Nothing is hidden among the elites.”

“That doesn’t answer how-”

“Doesn’t matter.” He waves away your concern. “The point now is that it’s not safe for you to go to your house.”

You rack your brains to find reasons to say no, but you can’t seem to find any. He had valid points. If your family knew you were in Seoul, all hell would break loose. Knowing very well you will regret this decision, you hesitatingly nod.

Yoongi lets out the breath he was holding and points a thumb at the road, “I’ll hail a cab.” 

It takes about 15 minutes for you to finally find yourself being led by him to the halted car down the street. All this while you just thoughtlessly watched him a few feet away from you trying to flag a cab in the darkening, busy street. It’s a familiar sight that now feels distant. 

Refusing his help, you lift your suitcase into the boot of the car before clambering into the backseat, only flinch slightly upon noticing him sitting almost right next to you when you shut the door. Of course. He had motion sickness just like you, he never calls shotgun. That meant this was how you were to journey today......And the car zooms into the night.

Seoul is always well lit at night. Despite the colorful lights of the LED screens lighting up the cab from time to time, you can barely see his face. For the most part, he’s looking out of the window, hands tucked into the pocket on his bikers jacket. You don’t know for what reason but you find yourself occasionally glancing at him. The both of you were sharing such a close space with each other after so long. It stings you in the chest to feel how much things have changed. You would’ve never imagined sitting like this with Yoongi three years ago. Yes there were times silence was the dominant thing, but that silence with him was always comforting. This silence is ice cold.

You shiver, not at the thought, but because the taxi driver lowers his window, letting the wind and its coldness in, cutting your skin.

“Got a lighter?”

Shaking your head you reply to the questioning eyes of the old man looking at you through his rear view mirror. But before he could get disappointed, Yoongi pulls out a lighter from his pocket, handing it over the shoulder of the now much happier man. As you watch him click the lighters flames to life, your mind wanders elsewhere.

You extend the umbrella in your hand over an already drenched Yoongi as he looks at you, face stoic as ever, eyes fixed on you in a way that said he applauded your audacity. Though he stopped leaning against the lamp post which held the ‘no smoking’ sign when you walked up to him, he stubbornly maintained everything else. The cigarette is still held in place in his mouth, the blackened matchstick still tightly wrapped in his fist. The rain continues to pour fearlessly, as though just moments ago, it did not just wipe the smirk off Yoongi’s face or blow out the flames he had lit for himself.

Bringing up the lighter in your hand, your fingers roll on the spark wheel and you light his cigarette carefully.

“I don’t know what it is but there’s something in there,” You point straight at his chest. “Some kind of pain, something which is the reason you find the need to rebel, the reason you don’t care for anything, the reason you're hurting and you choose to hurt those around you......Yes smoking kills but that pain?” You smile at him pitifully. “That will kill you much faster.”

You reach for his hand, bringing it up and unclamping his fist and flick the burnt matchstick out of his hand, replacing it with the lighter in yours.

“So I can only hope you find what takes that pain away.” You take a step, baring him to the rain again. “I hope you find what helps you live.”

A very long time after that day, Yoongi held your hand under that very lamp post as he permanently handed you his favorite lighter, the one with his initials on it. 

“I found what helps me live.” 

As you wrapped your fingers around it his eyes told you what he couldn’t say.

He found you.

Your gaze follows the lighter as Yoongi takes it, stuffing it into his pocket, where it belonged. So he was smoking again, a habit he detested, a habit he had acquired only to rebel against what life threw at him, a habit you thought he had left in the past because he was no longer hurting. Seeing that lighter in his hands again, your heart aches. It aches to be reminded that he had returned to grieving so painfully once more.

Yoongi notices you looking intently at the hand in his pocket. Before he can say anything, you turn away, choosing to see the fast moving scenery of the estates over conversing with him. A wise choice. If you hadn’t glanced out, you would’ve probably missed the large sign that held the name of the enormous structure that loomed over. 

Min Manor.

You rack your brain for memories of this house. You remember it very vaguely because you had been here perhaps once in all the years you had known Yoongi. The reason was simple. Yoongi never lived here. Though it was his house, though his family lived here for generations together, though he loved every inch of this place, Yoongi never stayed here-

The door opens, jolting you out of your thoughts. 

You turn to see Yoongi who had already gotten off the halted car, holding out the door for you. You uncertainly step out as you recollect where Yoongi stayed almost all his life. In that camper-van that was always parked behind this house, the one his mother had gifted him years ago. Why didn’t you think about where Yoongi was living when he asked you to stay with him? Why didn’t you think that Yoongi might still be living there? Did he expect you to stay in that tiny space along with him-

“Of course not.” You’re not surprised he answers your unspoken questions anymore as he rolls his eyes ever so slightly. “I don’t live there now and if I was, I wouldn’t have expected you to stay there with me. I moved into the Min Mansion a few years ago.”

“Oh.” Something as normal as Yoongi living in his own house shocks you more than him staying in that camper-van. Why did he live here now? Did he sort out everything? But how? “I’m sorry I thought-”

“I don’t blame you.” He closes the door behind you, signaling the man standing by the huge doors with his fingers and a nod. The old butler stops staring at you and hurriedly descends the few stairs to open the boot of the taxi, pulling your luggage out as Yoongi sighs, looking at the house with a strange expression. “I never thought I would live here again either.”

Then why do you live here? 

As the taxi zooms away, you keep your question to yourself as you follow Yoongi not so closely behind. The butler pushes open the large oak doors of the house revealing barely any details of the dimly lit corridor that extends from the entrance. As you step in, you picture your last memory here - your younger self being escorted out by this very butler, Yoongi’s father’s voice the only audible thing as you left.

“How dare you Min Yoongi? Was it not enough that you love the same woman as your brother? Now you have the audacity to bring her into this house? Are you trying to rip apart what’s left of this family?!”

“Y/n.” You break out of your flashback at Yoongi’s voice, turning to see him still by the door. “Welcome home.”

Home.

The word pricks you like a thorn. There was a time I thought this would be home.

“Grace here will help you.” Yoongi points at the middle aged, short woman who you didn’t even notice standing there, as she gives you a bow when you spot her. “Lead her to the guest room and make sure she has everything she needs.”

“Rest Y/n, we have a long mission ahead of us” He takes a step back giving you one final look before he walks into the darkness outside the house. “We will start tomorrow by meeting Officer Jeon Jungkook.” 

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 12- Change is Coming

Hello, everyone!

We have officially reached the end of Year 3 and what a ride it has been thus far. The amount of interest this story has generated despite Hogwarts Mystery being somewhat of a let down is very heartening. It's extremely fun to write, almost like writing therapy in a way.

That being said I'd like to give an update for the future which I will also put in the story notes. This story will not be updated again until the New Year. The reason being I have several other projects I'm trying to juggle not to mention I like to write the story ahead of time and then release it over a period of time.

So, for the month of November I will be writing other things which should be done by December in which I will begin Year 4 and hopefully have completed writing it by January. So I ask for your patience as a I try to get everything done in a very difficult time for me personally. I promise it will be worth the wait. I have lots of fun things planned for Year 4, including for a certain cute Slytherin girl ;)

Anyways, enjoy the chapter! David Grant will be back in no time!

Unlike the previous year, no Professor confronted David about the vaults in the aftermath of breaking into one. He expected McGonagall or Snape to confront him about it. The Potions Master did shoot him nasty glares but asked him no questions and was no worse than he usually was. Of everyone Pince was the most likely to try and either punish or get him to confess but nothing of the sort occurred. Oddly enough, he thought the irritable librarian might be side stepping him on purpose as she consistently avoided his gaze while he studied for his exams. But there was one similarity: as it was with the ice the boggarts seemingly vanished in the aftermath of their excursion. The curse was broken.

As for the other affairs at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had returned although no one knew just exactly where he’d gotten off to in the first place. There were rumors to be sure (including one where he allegedly slayed a Hungarian Horntail and another where he took a two week holiday at a muggle resort in France in order to study the magical properties of champagne) but none of them were substantiated. The third, soon to be fourth year, Gryffindor considered himself lucky that the Headmaster was not present during his latest escapade but nevertheless remained on his guard. Very little got by the old man despite his outwardly friendly, eccentric demeanor.

Exams were soon concluded as was the Quidditch season. Unfortunately for the Lions, Slytherin won their last matchup giving the snakes victory in the Quidditch Cup which was difficult to stomach given their resounding success the previous year. Charlie Weasley took it especially hard, but all were reassured by the words of Bill, who reminded everyone the same squad was returning next year and they had only lost their two games by a margin of 100 points. Despite the disappointing season Skye Parkin and Charlie remained two of the brightest young stars in Hogwarts.

Exams were formally concluded by the second week in June and to celebrate their marks among other things Bill also suggested they celebrate at the Three Broomsticks during the last visit to Hogsmeade. With a not so subtle wink he also made plans to invite everyone involved with the latest vault, signaling their latest triumph.

Though still mentally a bit fatigued, David thought the idea was a good one and supposed if there was any time to kick back and relax it was now. The map of the forest and the broken arrow were safely locked away in his trunk, and despite feeling like he was still far from finding Jacob, he was content for now that the boggarts had disappeared and Hogwarts returned to normalcy. Besides, he had a feeling a proper discussion regarding the latest vault was imminent at the Three Broomsticks.

All the same, it wasn’t a proper school year without one last confrontation with Merula Snyde.

It was a bright, sunny day, the kind that reinvigorates the bones and the soul when the weather turns warm in the highlands of Scotland. Happy to forgo the black robes of his uniform, he dressed himself in a white t shirt, red zip up jacket, blue jeans, and a pair of black vans he was quite fond of from a muggle company called ‘vans’ (he saw the advertisement on a commercial street in London and convinced his mother the value of such a purchase). Glancing one last time at the trunk he kept his things in he muttered to himself.

“Two vaults down. I wish finding you was simpler Jacob, we could be a family again if you just came back...why...why don’t you come back?”

Feeling a rare moment of tears surging through, David wiped them and buried the feelings just as he always did. He did not want to lose face in front of his friends nor indicate anything was wrong. A butterbeer and a few jokes would be enough to keep the pain at bay for at least a little while.

He left Gryffindor Tower which by now was largely devoid of anyone given it was a sunny day, exams were done, and most people were out and about. It was only when he reached the edge of the Great Hall that the Slytherin girl stepped out from the shadows.

“Grant.”

“Good Lord, we need to put a bell on you,” he quipped.

But Merula wasn’t laughing, though she almost never smiled (unless it there was malicious intent) this time there was a hard, stony faced expression that betrayed both frustration and deep seated anger.

“I know you found that vault and I know you broke that boggart curse,” she told him quietly.

“Good job, detective. Do you want a medal for special services for the school?”

It was quite remarkable how easy it was to get underneath her skin, but for once David didn’t have the energy to spend going back and forth with her. He was tired and in no mood to pull out his wand and duel her for the umpteenth time.

By the same token, he was prepared to all the same.

“I hope you enjoy your little victory with your pathetic friends. Savor it while you can,” Merula sneered at him.

“I will, thank you,” he responded coolly. “Can’t say the same for you though.”

The teenage Slytherin’s scowl morphed into a snarl as her fists clenched but she did not reach for her wand.

“Why?” she spoke through the clenched teeth. “Why do you always do this?!”

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I do a lot of things.”

“This!” Merula gestured wildly with her hands. “Every time we fight or battle you just respond with stupid wisecracks! And on top of that you always win!!”

David recognized straight away that this was not a typical tantrum from his long standing rival. Rather it was a plea, a desperate attempt to justify why things had gone the way they had. An answer for all of her failures.

“Merula, you’re looking at this the wrong way,” came his straightforward reply.

“And how should I be looking at it?” she snarled.

“I’m not going into these vaults so I can become rich or hold myself above everyone else...I’m doing it for my brother and for the friends who have my back.”

“I had friends!” Merula shot back. “Until you bloody well took Tulip and Barnaby from me!”

“I took no one from you,” David replied more forcefully. “They chose to join my side because you treated them like rubbish and didn’t feel like taking your orders anymore.”

But Merula refused to heed him.

“It’s your fault! Everything bad that’s happened to me is your fault!”

“Classic Merula Snyde,” the Gryffindor said with an angry sigh. “Can dish it out but can’t take it. Have you ever once thought that you might be wrong? Are you capable of caring about anything except yourself?”

“I-I...you-”

“You don’t know what a friend is because you’ve never had one,” he interrupted her. “I doubt you’ve ever cared to either.“

“Don’t pretend to know me, Grant!” Merula shouted. “There is nothing about my life you could possibly understand!”

“Maybe not, but I do know one thing: if you keep on doing the same thing over and over again expect the same results. And if attacking, insulting, and lying to me hasn’t worked thus far, you may want to consider that the source of your misfortune originates with yourself and not with me.”

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, David Grant had left Merula Snyde speechless. No comeback, taunt, or rejoinder came from her mouth. Instead, it was sealed shut in a tight line and once more he could see that same hurt in her eyes. The soft lavender tortured by pain and anguish. Temptation to express sympathy became suddenly apparent but that emotion was pushed back. How were you supposed to feel sorry for someone who tried to make your life miserable just because of their own hubris?

She’s right, I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some people waiting for me at the Three Broomsticks. See ya next year.”

As he moved past Merula, he was prepared to engage her again if she attacked. But this time retaliation was absent as the Slytherin stood stock still, posture unchanging.

Taking the staircase down to the grounds, David wondered how long it would be before she moved again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, the Three Broomsticks was a much noisier but merrier environment and sure enough the entirety of his friends were there- Bill, Penny, Rowan, Ben, Tulip, Tonks, and Barnaby sitting at one of the corner booths. All were partaking in a round of butterbeer and to his pleasant surprise there was a full mug of it untaken as though it were waiting for him.

“Dave! You made it!” Rowan exclaimed. “What took you so long?”

“Had another run in with Merula,” he said frankly.

That caused the entire table to give pause.

“Did you have to-”

“Strangely enough she didn’t attack me this time,” he answered Ben straight away. “It was more like yelling and flailing angrily.”

Bill shrugged, edging the glass mug towards him.

“Well no need to worry about her now. Have a butterbeer. Madam Rosmerta said it was on the house.”

“Cheers, mate!” he thanked, raising his glass and taking a sweet sip.

“I propose a toast,” Tulip declared, raising her own glass. “All hail the conquering cursebreaker! Long may he reign!”

“Here, here!” the rest of the group shouted out.

David was genuinely touched.

“Thank you, all. I couldn’t have done it without any of you….though you might want to be careful where you say that. ‘Officially’ we weren’t anywhere near the vault, remember?”

“Nah don’t worry about that,” Tulip told him. “I’ve heard Pince was so embarrassed about the situation she hasn’t said a peep. Not even to Dumbledore.”

“The Professors aren’t dumb, they know that someone broke the curse on the vault since most of the boggarts vanished. I heard Professor Snape was on the warpath at the latest Prefect’s meeting,” Bill informed them.

“He is,” Barnaby confirmed taking a long swig. “Merula told him about Madam Pince, the Restricted Section, and the Cursed Vault.” A proud grin stretched across his face. “She forgot to mention the part where I defeated her and Ismelda.”

“So if he knows why isn’t he hauling my ass into his office right now tearing me a new one?” David asked.

“It’s like what Tulip said,” Tonks replied. “Pince is too embarrassed to admit what happened. Didn’t stop her from giving me detention through next year though.”

“There’s no proof,” Ben agreed. “Even I’m not worried.”

“Thought I think getting detention into next year might be a new Hogwarts milestone,” David said chuckling and raising his glass towards his pink haired friend. “Congrats.”

“That dungbomb was all for you, Dave. It was also totally worth it.”

“Feels good to get off scot free,” Tulip agreed. “Well almost all of us, anyway. I don’t want to say it was all due to my brilliant plan but…”

“What did you find in the vault, David?” Penny asked eagerly. It was a question she had clearly been dying to ask.

“We found a map of the Forbidden Forest and a broken arrow. So more clues just as it was last time.”

“I’d wager all my galleons and gobstone set that the next vault is in the Forbidden Forest. It won’t be like this year where we had to spend an enormous amount of time just figuring out where the location was. I know I’ll be reading about it all summer,” Rowan chimed in.

“You mentioned in our last private chat that the map had the letter ‘R’ in the top left corner,” Bill said. “Do you have any theories on that?”

David’s eyes scanned the table before lingering on Ben.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing….”

If his gaze was accusatory it was unintentional but it had the added effect of everyone else doing the same thing which unnerved the muggle born Gryffindor.

“Why is everyone looking at me?”

He has no idea. He can’t even remember David thought to himself.

“Ben...I don’t know how to explain this because you couldn’t remember anything...but last year we found a letter on your person addressed to me signed from someone named ‘R’.”

“We think they are possibly related given the circumstances,” Rowan added. “But it’s a suspicious part of this whole mystery. Surely you remember something, right?”

“But I don’t!” Ben protested. “I don’t know what happened. One moment I’m on the train looking for you guys and the next thing I remember was waking up in a huge block of ice freezing to death. You believe me, right Dave?”

There was no lie in the boy’s eye. Someone like Ben was practically incapable of harming or hurting another human being and he’d come quite a ways from the frightened first year he once was.

“I do, Ben. Don’t worry, we’re not accusing you of anything. Just trying to connect the small amount of clues we have.”

Ben smiled in appreciation but that was not the end of the topic.

“I hope you aren’t lying to protect us. We can’t help each other unless we know what’s going on,” Rowan said, a harshness to his tone that wasn’t usually there.

Ben’s reply was honest but somewhat cool as he looked Rowan straight in the eye.

“I’m not lying to protect you, I promise.”

Sensing some tension Bill quickly interjected with a positive smile.

“Let’s worry about mystery maps and unexplained memory loss for another day. We’re here to celebrate together and that’s what counts. Now how bout some more butterbeer?”

And so they did, talking, laughing, rejoicing, talking about many subjects. Of particular interest was Penny and Rowan’s regalement of their role in distracting Pince, which took on a whole new dimension when Tonks set off the dungbomb too close for comfort (“It took so long to get the smell out of my braids!” the blonde remarked). Also of note was the fact that the Slytherin Quidditch team celebrated their victory by pulling a prank on top of the Astronomy Tower: hanging a pair of knickers which no one knew how they managed to pull off (“I could have done way better!” Tonks claimed). All in all, it was the perfect end of the year party.

After what seemed like hours and into the mid afternoon, Hagrid made an unexpected but welcome appearance.

“Arigh’ there David?” he boomed coming up to the table. “Celebratin’ with one last butterbeer before yeh all go home fer the holidays?”

“Right you are, Hagrid! Come on, pull up a chair. Join us.”

“I’d love teh, but I was actually sent ter give yeh a message.”

David cocked an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

“Professor Dumbledore wants teh see yeh in his office,” the large gameskeeper replied looking a bit sheepish.

The group immediately went silent as they all gave looks of concern that all indicated the obvious question: did Dumbledore, even in his absence, know all along?

“If it makes yeh feel better, Dave the boggarts are almost all gone,” Hagrid tried to reassure him upon witnessing his distress.

“Thank you. But I best not keep him waiting.”

He reluctantly drained his glass, gave a goodbye to his friends and prepared to face the music.

Maybe Tonks will have a detention buddy next year

He didn’t want to think about a possible worst outcome.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Surprisingly, the password to Dumbledore’s office was the same as it was the previous year ‘lemon drop’ which made David wonder if it was an unintentional design flaw or genius due to the fact that most young witches and wizards had no idea what a lemon drop was. Either way, he didn’t think the upcoming conversation was going to be about muggle sweets as he stepped past the gargoyle and up the rotating stairs.

Unlike the last instance in which he’d been inside this office, the outline and appearance was not as wondrous a second time though the layout was still quite impressive. And on this occasion, Dumbledore didn’t waste any time delving into the matter.

“Ah, Mr. Grant. Please come forward.”

David did so, quite afraid that the Headmaster was not going to be so forgiving and direct him to pack his bags, his wand to be snapped in two. The warning at the beginning of the year echoed loudly in his head. However, whatever the old man was feeling he gave no indication as the bearded face and sparkling blue eyes remained passively neutral.

“This has become something of a tradition,” Dumbledore began. “Our annual opportunity to discuss life, love, endless heroics, and egregious misbehavior.”

“It seems so, sir.”

He was almost tempted to give up right then and there but if there was one thing he’d learned about Dumbledore in his time at Hogwarts it was to expect the unexpected. Therefore he decided to say little for now.

“I understand much transpired in my two week absence.”

“Yes, Professor. More than you could imagine.”

“Even the wildest imaginations could not have come up with the tales retold to me,” Dumbledore said, that familiar twinkle returning to his eye. “Dragons in the common rooms, mummies in closets, werewolves in greenhouses, and Voldemort himself lurking in every cupboard.”

You have no idea

“There was more than one report that even I made an appearance in boggart form.”

“I’m surprised people would be afraid of you sir….by the way does this mean the boggarts are all gone?”

A knowing look passed over Dumbledore’s features.

“I believe you have already made the observation for yourself, David. However, yes most of them are gone. It is important to note, however, that boggarts can never truly be banished because they are born of human emotion. Fortunately they can be of some use. Defense Against the Dark Arts classes can practice ‘Ridikkulus’ on the remaining ones for years to come.”

There was a slight pause in which the old man put something away into his magnificent desk.

“But I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what you faced in this latest vault. Please, tell me everything.”

So he did know. David supposed there wasn’t any use in playing dumb anymore as almost nothing got by the Headmaster in the first place. Yet, it was still amazing to him that he was able to glean his transgressions regardless.

“Sir, I-”

“There is no need to lie, David in case you were thinking of doing so. You are not in trouble for the time being. Please be honest.”

Reassuring enough

The third year Gryffindor acquiesced. Though he left out the details of some parts such as Tulip’s plan, his brother’s room, and the full extent of Bill’s involvement, he was truthful to the letter about what horrors lay inside and the fact that his boggart was You Know Who. Upon finishing his tale Dumbledore took a moment to muse before responding.

“This is all quite fascinating. It seems as though someone else tampered with the vaults which released the multitudes of boggarts.”

“Yes, sir. Originally, I did try to do as you asked at the beginning of the year.”

“And do you know the reason why your boggart takes the form of Lord Voldemort?”

Resisting the urge to shudder at the name, David debated on how to properly answer. Though he gave Tulip a truthful answer before, it was not the full truth, one that had only just come to bear by virtue of entering the vault.

“It’s not You Know Who himself. It’s more what he represents.”

“And what does he represent to you?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were piercing over his half moon spectacles but they were also gentle and understanding giving his pupil ample time to respond. When David did finally answer, it was difficult to get the words out.

“Guilt,” he said with tremendous effort. “Guilt over Jacob and why he left. The rumors after his disappearance about joining You Know Who were constant. If you want a reason why I went after the vaults again that’s the main one. To try and find him...I heard his voice speaking to me in the vault again...”

He couldn’t continue but there was no need to say more as Dumbledore nodded empathetically.

“Naturally. And if I had such information I would certainly share it. However, the mystery of Jacob Grant remains. While I cannot speak to his location I can speak to my personal theory that he yet lives...your bond is proof of that.”

David nodded in return but he was unable to discuss his brother any longer. Switching gears, there was a question he had for Dumbledore as well.

“Professor, you’ve gone at certain points in each of the past two years. Where exactly have you been?”

“Ah yes, I believe it is my turn to answer some questions,” the old man said with good humor. “I take it you’ve heard the wild rumors.”

“Almost every single one.”

“Then you must have discerned I was not in France to discern the magical properties of champagne though it is rather tasty I must say,” Dumbledore chuckled. “No, I have been seeking the world’s finest curse breaker. One who has had intimate experience with the cursed vaults. An exceptional pupil of mine back when my beard was shorter and browner.”

“Who is she?” David couldn’t help but ask.

“A woman by the name of Patricia Rakepick. At present she is currently exploring recently discovered ruins under the Brazilian wizarding school Castelobruxo.”

Familiarity with that name rang through the teen’s head.

“Rakepick...I know that name. I gave Bill a book about her adventures in cursebreaking. I had no idea.”

“Indeed, she is considered one of the magical community’s premiere experts on the subject. When the next year begins, she will be at Hogwarts to assist us with these vaults. I am most interested in hearing her opinion of them and of you.”

Dumbledore’s face then turned stern but the blue eyes did not lose all of its twinkle.

“You have directly disobeyed me, yet you have also once again broken a curse that threatened the livelihood and safety of everyone here. I am running out of excuses for you, David. If you repeat this offense again with a professional on staff, I will not be able to insulate you from further punishment.”

This was the Headmaster at his most serious and despite his general easy going demeanor it was not lost on David that this was also the only man You Know Who ever feared. It would not do to openly argue.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Dumbledore gestured towards his left, indicating a bright red and yellow bird, sitting on a perch in all its splendor.

“Actions are far better than apologies. Take Fawkes for example. From time to time the Phoenix is reborn- fresh and rejuvenated. You have that power too. Take the summer, and when you return to Hogwarts, start fresh.”

David nodded emphatically taking in the beauty of the Phoenix.

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

The old man’s faithful smile was back again.

“In the meantime, take one hundred points for Gryffindor. I daresay that might take the sting out of losing the Quidditch Cup this year.”

“You don’t know the half of...I mean, thank you, Professor.”

Dumbledore laughed heartily.

“I can always count on a whimsical remark from you in our conversations, David. However, there is one more thing I wish to tell you. Though the Vault of Fear has been broken it’s legacy remains ever present in our lives. Fear causes human beings to act in ways they would not normally, and though the Voldemort you fought was only a boggart, the real Dark Lord used the exact same method to gain followers and seize power. Remember that it is only by confronting our worst nightmares that we rise above them and truly become better people. No doubt that is one of many lessons you’ve taken this year.”

The wisdom was not lost on the young Gryffindor. He did not need to be afraid of Jacob or him joining You Know Who. The only method now was to move forward in continuing the search for his lost brother.

“Yes, sir.”

Feeling he was dismissed, David turned to leave but not before one last telling remark from the Headmaster.

“David, my last bit of wisdom was not aimed solely for you alone. There are many other students who could stand to start fresh next year. Including one miss Merula Snyde.”

He didn’t respond to that and didn’t need to. The implication was clear enough. Everyone was going to go through some changes in the coming months. What kind had still yet to be determined.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dumbledore’s last second gesture allowed the Gryffindors to eek by the Slytherins for the House Cup, which did not sit well with the snakes, however given that it was the end of the year, it was too late to do much about it. The party in the tower the night before graduation was legendary. So much so that Angelica Cole even drunkenly admitted how much she cared for and would miss him.

“You’ll be a great prefect,” she slurred, firewhiskey in hand.

David wasn’t overly concerned with that. The naming of prefects for his peer group was still another year away and he knew that Rowan or Charlie were the most likely candidates anyway. At the forefront of his mind was the long summer ahead, a time of relaxation and fun for most people, but for the Grant family there would be little to no vacations. His father would stay stoically silent, his mother constantly hen pecking...only his grandfather seemed to truly sympathize with him.

I reap the consequences of Jacob’s absence, he thought to himself at one point. Mum and Dad are incapable of seeing that

Still, he was able to enjoy the train ride home with his friends, which was a small consolation for the isolated, controlled environment he could expect upon his return to Bath. He scanned the prophet for any signs of beat writers catching wind of the boggart problem at Hogwarts but saw nothing, not even from the notorious Rita Skeeter. Breathing a sigh of relief, he supposed that unless Dumbledore lettered his parents, they would never know he had disobeyed them as well.

“Are you okay, David?” Rowan asked.

He tossed aside the newspaper and rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah sorry, mate. Was just finishing up checking the Quidditch scores.”

“Seems like something else is on your mind, though.”

His best friend knew him better than most people, so he supposed it was fitting he’d realize not everything was settled inside (least of which the eggs and bacon he consumed that morning).

“This year was the most interesting one yet,” he said aloud as he looked out the window. “And yet I feel next year will be even more so. My gut tells me a lot is going to change.”

“It may,” Rowan acknowledged. “But it may not be all bad. You’ll see.”

David turned around and observed the group in front of him- Ben, Charlie, Tulip, and Penny, his hazel blue eyes dilating slightly at the two girls, noticing just how pretty they looked.

“Yeah...maybe you’re right.”

“Besides if there’s one thing I can count on it’s cursebreaking adventures with my best friend.”

David clapped an appreciative hand on Rowan’s shoulder, warmth rushing through his heart.

“Thanks, mate...you’re just interested in reading about the Forbidden Forest this summer aren’t you?”

Rowan laughed at the joke.

“You caught me. Now come on, let’s go play some exploding snap.”

And so they did, and David was able to enjoy the last few sunny hours on the train. All the while he was able to heed the lesson this latest vault had taught him. It did no good to live in fear, especially when you had friends to count on.

But as it was every year, the ride back to Platform nine and three quarters was always quicker than the journey from there. Soon, everyone was unloading their luggage, saying hello to their families against the backdrop of the sunkissed day and over the roar of the hissing steam emanating from the train.

“Another vault down, another one to go,” Bill told him with a grin, shaking his hand. “Can’t wait to do this again next year.”

“As always, Bill. And who knows maybe we can finally get Charlie involved.”

“If you manage to get him away from dragons and Quidditch you might have a shot,” the elder Weasley laughed. “My folks are waiting in the parking lot, but make no mistake mum is very keen to meet you. We have to invite you for Christmas some time.”

“I’d be honored.”

Next was Tulip who had that ever present mischievous smirk but it was much softer in the presence of a farewell.

“Take care, David Grant. You’re a very intriguing person, and I can safely say I’m very glad I met you.”

“I could say the same about you, Tulip,” he responded genuinely. “Nothing we did this year would have happened without you.”

The eccentric Ravenclaw responded with something quite unexpected. She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand once more.

“You’re many things, David Grant. Boring least of all, but most of all a good person. Can’t wait to make more mischief in the fall.”

She winked at him and ran off to join two people, which looked like her parents, one was a stern looking Japanese man with a bowler hat, the other an Irish woman with flowing red hair who also gave no visible emotion on her face. David felt a pang of empathy go through him. His parents may be strict, but he could only imagine what Tulip went through during the summer. He made a point of reference to write to her. Something told they’d both need it.

After exchanging goodbyes with Rowan and Ben, Penny was the last to see him off.

“Summer always seems dreadfully long even if it is my favorite time of year,” Penny told him. “Feel free to write me any time.”

“You know I will,” David said with a smile. “I’ll need all the post I can get.”

The blonde girl rubbed his arm encouragingly.

“It’s not forever, Dave. We’ll see each other again before you know it. Enjoy the holiday with your family!”

David supposed she didn’t know the true origins of his post semester blues, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her it was his family that was precisely the problem.

“I will, Penny. Thank you.”

For the second time in as many instances, he received a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, causing him to go red and touch the spot where he received the affectionate gesture, which made Penny giggle.

“See you next year, cursebreaker of Hogwarts.”

The last thing David had expected was two kisses on the cheek from two of his best female friends and it made him feel quite funny on the inside.

He had little time to dwell on these feelings however as his parents came into view a brown haired man with a goatee and a short blonde woman, waving and walking towards him.

“David!” his mom gushed, giving him an enormous hug. “So glad to see you safe and well. How are you? Did your exams go well?”

“Now, now let him breathe Heather,” his dad said with a light chuckle. “He just got off the train.” He ruffled his son’s dark brown hair in a show of affection. “It is good to see you safe and well, David.”

“Do you have your things unloaded and ready to go? Are you hungry?”

“Don’t worry, mum. I’m all set,” he said quickly to reassure her. Not even a minute in he was already tired of her smothering.

“Very good then, can’t blame a mother for asking.”

“I rented out a ‘Chevro’ something,” his father mentioned to him as they began to walk away from the platform. “Yank automobile. Runs pretty well, I know we can apparate but I’m thinking of buying one for myself. Dead useful these things.”

“John, please keep your voice down lest the entirety of muggle London know what we are.”

“Apologies, dear.”

His mother turned to face him and beamed a great smile but as it was since his brother disappeared there was a subtle sadness and anxiety within them.

“I have good news. We’re going to visit my side of the family this summer at their house for a get together. My brother is having another baby soon. I hope you’re ready for it.”

David thought back to his friends, his Professors, Dumbledore, the map, the broken arrow and the lively face of Jacob whispering to never give up. He looked up at his parents, two people whose lives were still run by fear...fear of losing him.

“Yes,” he replied. “I am.”

[x688plsloveme]

Companions’ Biggest Injury

ADA: She fell in some dirty water that clogged up her circuits while she was still traveling with Jackson. They were hunting some mirelurks because hey were

hurting for food, and one of them butted her into the water. Jackson repaired her head first, and she watched as he cleaned out the rest of her parts. some

wires were ruined, which made the whole process harder, but Jackson was adamant on fixing her as soon as possible because she was his favourite robot.

CAIT: During her time in the Combat Zone, Cait fought more than other people. They once put her up against a baby deathclaw. Sure it was still a baby, but it still had talons as long as her hand and was almost as big as she was. As much as she hates to admit it, the chems she was on was probably what saved her that day. Without them, she would've passed out for sure. The baby deathclaw gave hear a six inch long gash right up her side. She almost died, but at least she can use it as a good story at parties.

CODSWORTH: Sole doesn't like taking Codsworth out much, and he much prefers staying at home and cleaning, so Codsey doesn't get into a lot of trouble.

However, there was one time where a group of raiders tried to invade Sanctuary while Sole was out. He thought he had gotten all of them, but one of the slimy

dastards snuck into the kitchen during all the chaos, and as soon as Codsworth had his...back? turned, they hit him with a cast-iron skillet. The raider didn't last long, but Sole had to hear an earful when they got back. "Honestly! The nerve of some people! Do you know how hard it is to find a decent skillet

anymore? Do you!?”

CURIE: Back when she was a simple Miss Nanny, she didn't get so much as a scratch. However, as a synth with new senses and a curiosity that burns stronger than ever, she found herself getting into a lot more accidents. Particularly ones that involve food. Making dinner for everyone is a wonderful way to stimulate all of her senses and she loves it, but sometimes she gets carried away and burns herself pretty badly. There was also the time where she accidentally cut off her finger! Good thing Sole knows "someone" the institute with a mysteriously large "collection" of synth parts.

DANSE: The worst injury Danse got was actually after he left the Brotherhood. Power armor doesn't allow for many injuries after all. It's no secret that the

Brotherhood of Steel has plenty of bigots in it. Danse didn't even know the extent of it until he found a Paladin outside his door one day. It was one of his

close friends and Danse almost started crying right there at seeing someone from his past that wouldn't try to kill him just for being what he is. He was

relieved for about two minutes until the guy sucker punched him in the face and started screaming about how he "can't believe I got tricked by a filthy synth!"

and "I'm surprised you're even alive!" It shook Danse so bad he didn't know how to respond. Sole saved him from getting killed by putting a bullet in his skull

when they came to see what was happening. The mental trauma of not only finding out that one of his friends wanted him dead but also seeing them face-down themselves was terrible. Thankfully Sole is His actual friend and was, and always will be, there for him no matter what.

DEACON: No one actually knows what deacon’s worst injury is-he gives out different answers every time, but there are fan favourites that he’ll repeat every once in a while. His favourite by far (and Sole’s, but they’ll never tell him that) involves chems, a magic sword, and two dozen deathclaws. “I swear, all it took was one hit of psychojet!” He’d tell the gathering group. “When all those uglies came at me, I knew I had to buy some time. While they ran towards me in slow motion, I pulled out a magic green, glowing sword passed down by the great Shimada clan, the Ryūichi moji!” He paused for dramatic effect here. “One by one the green dragon of the Shimada legends carried me to each smelly lizard and one by one they fell. The greatest injury I received from that fight was from the mother deathclaw. Nothing is meaner than a mom with small kids let me tell you. She swung down with the force of a falling building, and right when I thought the famed sword would break, a flash of light obscured our vision, and a force knocked me back. When I came to, there was the mamma deathclaw, defeated on the ground, and a giant gash that spanned the length of my entire right arm.” This is the part where he shows a giant scar on his arm, making everyone cringe in sympathy pain. “The gash seemed like a mere cut when I noticed the sword lying shattered at my feet, my dragon friend gone. I just hope the old bugger I living large wherever he is...” The story ends and usually, people clap. The real way his arm got injured was much less fanciful. He just got caught by surprise by a raider. Where’s the fun in a story like that though?

DOGMEAT: bold of you to assume that I would ever let anything happen to my favourite puppy Poor boy was chasing a molerat and went too far from Sanctuary. He followed it back to its den where there was around two dozen of the nasty creatures. He got scratched up pretty bad before he could escape, but at least he got spoiled rotten because Sole's "poor baby" got hurt and anyone who didn't give him at least a pat on the head while he was healing was going to feel Sole's wrath. And NO ONE went against what Sole wanted for their dog.

GAGE: The most obvious large injury out of everyone-Gage's biggest injury was losing his eye. But what's not so obvious is how he lost it. Colter was pretty stupid compared to Gage, but when it came to 'street smarts,' he won against everyone. He knew he had to be ruthless and do anything to get to the top-especially in his line of work-so to show everyone that they shouldn't mess with him, he took the guy who was the biggest threat to him and gouged his eye out in front of everybody. Gage may be weaker than some of the crew but he was way more clever. You couldn't win against him one way or another, so instead of just killing him, Colter made him an example and kept him close afterwards just because he could. Gage didn't even scream. He didn't want to give that son of a bitch the satisfaction.

HANCOCK: Hancock has been in so many fights, he doesn’t even know where to start thinking. At least. That’s what he tells people when they ask. The truth of the matter is he just doesn’t want to tell anybody because they probably wouldn’t believe him. It was the story about how he met his life long brother McDonough. Both boys lived on the streets with hardly anyone to look after themselves and after a particularly bad tousle with some junkies over his last bit of water, Hancock thought he was a goner. He hadn’t expected some equally as young, and equally as scrawny kid come up and offer to take him to a place where he thought he could get some help. Hancock was in no position to deny the boy’s offer, so he followed him to a rickety shack 20 minutes away. He was feeling faint from the blood loss and passed out, but when he came to, he saw a young woman standing over him-seemingly just getting finished with giving him medical treatment. She introduced herself as “Murphey” and told him that he would help out someone very important one day. Then she just...left without another word. Late on, when Hancock asked McDonough about why he helped Murphey he just told him that she paid him to go to a certain alley and bring the kid there back to the shack. Both teens agreed that that was pretty freaky, but also agreed that they should start looking out for each other from then on out. Can’t have too many friends in the streets in their opinion. 

LONGFELLOW: He’s got stories for every single one of his scars, just ask him. He especially likes sharing about the jagged, faded one right above where his heart is. It was a long long time ago, but even in his old age, Longfellow remembered it like it was yesterday. All he had wanted in his youth was a sweetheart to battle life with. What he got was a toxic psycho. He did everything to please that girl and all he got in return was more demands and less control of his own life. Her downward spiral of hate and jealousy got so bad, that one day, after seeing Longfellow talking to another girl, his crazy girlfriend just snapped. She got a knife and went for his heart telling him that this is how he made her feel when he was around other girls. There was no hiding their abusive relationship after that. The girl was arrested and moved off island entirely. Longfellow got help, and even though it took a really really long time to gain his self-respect and confidence back, he still did it. He moved on from his past and overcame it stronger than before. He’s a strong believer that anyone can do it, and after the local therapist died, he became the unofficial one for anybody having issues with themselves because of abusive relationships. He did that for many years until the fog became so thick most people just left. He was glad to be living such a fulfilling life. He never thought he would get past his dark thoughts, yet here he was uplifting youngsters with his tale.

MACCREADY: When MacCready was a kid, no one warned him that Big Town wasn't the safest settlement in the wasteland. In fact, it was a shit hole. Sure the Lone Wanderer still popped by every now and then, but the months in between those visits were hell. If he wasn't such a good shoot he would've died within a year. In fact, he almost did. One of the first nights and MacCready stayed there, a slaver party from out west ransacked the town. being groggy because he had just woken up, his perception was thrown off and he got shot in the stomach. Red had already moved on with her life and was no longer living there and it wasn’t like anyone had any stimpacks either. He thought he was a goner up until he heard the slavers start dropping one by one in quick succession. He peaked over his cover and would’ve started crying if he wasn’t already. There stood Lone with their dog and boyfriend, Butch, who was looking very queasy at the sight of all that blood. In all 16 years of his life, MacCready had never been that happy to see anyone in his life. Lone gave him a stimpack while enthusiastically welcoming him to the real world. “I knew your birthday was around this time, so I dropped in to say hi and give you this.” They handed him an almost mint condition rifle and he wouldn’t tell anyone this, but he almost started crying again that day. He still uses that rifle. 

PIPER: Just like her buddy Nick, Piper made her fair share of enemies. The most dangerous, however, was a group of gunners that she was stalking for a story. No one except other gunners knows what goes exactly goes down in their little organization and Piper thought it would be nice if people knew. Sadly, this is the moment where she found out she wasn’t exactly cut out for being sneaky. She was found out the third day and was “interrogated” by the group. They didn’t beat her too badly, but it’s not like it was any fun for her. The group let her go shortly after realizing her smart mouth wasn’t worth the trouble of keeping around. She was just thankful to learn a valuable lesson without dying in the process, even at the cost of a few broken fingers.

PRESTON: The worst injury Preston got was when he was escaping Quincy. He had rushed to save Marcy and Jun's kid Kyle from getting killed by a gunner and took a bullet for the kid. Along with several burn wounds. At that point, he had already fractured his wrist and twisted his ankle, and was hurting like all hell but

there was no way he was just going to quit on all of these people that depended on him to defend them. He brought Kyle back to safety with cheers from everyone, only to lose him a week later in a super mutant raid. To Preston, his still healing wounds were nothing compared to the pain he felt when he had to bury a child while his parents sobbed behind him.

STRONG: Let's be real here. The super mutants are evolving. They can converse more in Fallout 4, and Strong actually has opinions of the companions besides "lunch." Regardless, besides a few exceptions, Gen 2 super mutants are so so dumb. Strong included. There's not much that can seriously hurt a mutant besides guns, or a very long fall down a very high building. And you guessed it, that's exactly what happened to Strong. A shoving match between two muties can end pretty horribly. One of Strong’s comrades(?) pushed him off the sixth floor of Trinity Tower in one such fight-resulting in many cuts, bruises, and broken bones. It’s a good thing super mutants heal fast, or Strong would’ve been toast.

VALENTINE: Nick has had his fair share of bigoted ass-hats coerce him, but this was the first time someone outright attacked him. Nick didn’t see it coming when he got knocked on the ground, but he also wasn’t worried because for every one bigot he sees, there are two friends to back him up. Still...getting beat up by some random dude is never a fun affair. Even when the neighboorhood reporter eventually follows the commotion and scares the guy off. Nick was pretty shaken about the whole thing and it really gave an insight on just how terrible people can be because of ignorance and fear. 

X6-88: X6 is a courser. He doesn't get hurt. Hell, he didn't think he could even get hurt until getting slapped in the face by a yao-gaui. He never thought

that he would ever risk his safety for someone else, but there he was, jumping in front of a giant mutated bear with paws bigger than his head, just to protect

Sole. The funny thing was that he did it solely because he wanted to protect them, not because he had to. After the initial hit though, the poor mutated bear didn't stand a chance. Sole's awed face and the gentle way they cleaned his wounds  afterwords were definitely worth the initial pain though. (he swears he did not act tsundere and grumble about this while blushing) 

Thank you anon for suggesting this! It really got me back into the writing grove and I’m happy about that. Sorry its a bit all over the place i def did not do this all in one sitting. I’m okay with how this turned out and I hope you guys enjoy it!!!

[hiddendreamer67]

The Graves of the Twins

Summary: Patton is grieving the loss of Roman, yet he can’t help but feel sympathetic to Remus, who in life was a menace but in death looks so alone as his grave stands forgotten.

October Prompt #28: Grief.

Warning: This ended up being a fairly serious angst piece about grief. Personally I didn’t cry but y’know, you’ve been warned. People are dead but the death itself isn’t depicted.

Check out more writing at @hiddendreamerwriting

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All of the traditions were being followed- the windows were opened. The mirrors covered. The clocks stopped. The family took every precaution, wanting to be careful lest the spirits get lost on their way out the door. The twin caskets lay side by side, the contents said to be too horrifying for viewing, after the car crash had marred both individuals nearly beyond recognition. As such, it was a closed wake. Mrs. Prince wept, sobbing over all that she had lost as the onlookers failed to comfort her. What could they say?

No parent should have to bury their child, let alone two.

The funeral was dreary, as many often are. The church candles cast the speakers in a pale light, and their attempts at bringing up joyful memories of the deceased got mixed results. For Roman, it seemed never-ending. For Remus, they knew better than to speak ill of the dead.

Later that morning the caskets were lowered. The sun was shining, a cruel sort of irony as the dirt was piled onto each dead teen’s resting place in turn. This was a long process; most of the bystanders left, off to the reception in the hopes of returning to some sense of normalcy. Mrs. Prince was ushered to the car by her daughter, the family of four shrinking to half that overnight. After she left, most of the lingering crowd felt comfortable enough to follow. 

Only Patton stayed behind, watching every trace of his love vanish six feet under. He only left when the workers were finished, giving him a gentle pat on the back and telling him to “go home, son.” Patton did, wishing he didn’t. It was lonely at home. His parents comforted him, trying to console him with their words. It didn’t fill the emptiness in his heart.

Why? Patton kept asking in his head, looking up to the ceiling for answers. Why did you do this?

Patton wanted to know the truth. He wanted to live forever with Roman until they were both old with a dozen dogs, and eating strawberries in the summer and sitting by fireplaces in the winter. Instead Patton was stuck with this stark reality that none of that would ever occur. 

It wasn’t fair.

Patton didn’t return to the cemetery again that week. It was too painful. In fact, he didn’t return that month, either. It was easy to pretend for now that the Prince family was just on a very, very long vacation, and any day now Roman would sweep Patton up in his arms and tell him how much he missed him so.

After all, Patton certainly missed Roman.

 Finally, Patton knew it was time to return to the graves. He had to confront his fears and see for himself what had become of him. The path up to the top of the hill was well-trodden, the tragedy having struck the small town hard. There was a thin layer of the first frost crinkling beneath Patton’s shoes. He got to the top, taking in a sharp breath at the sight of the two headstones lying before him. First, on the left:

Roman Alexander Prince

1999-2017

There’s one more angel in heaven

Patton’s lip quivered, recognizing the quote from the last musical Roman had ever performed. Adorning his headstone was a wreath of roses, red in his favorite shade. Several other bouquets were placed at the grave, well-wishers giving the spirit their sympathy. Patton sniffled. He really had been adored by everyone he met, hadn’t he?

Unable to look any longer, Patton’s gaze turned instead to the grave on the right:

Remus Bartholomew Prince

1999-2017

Rest in Peace

Patton paused, looking over this headstone once more. It was so… impersonal. More than that, Patton glanced between the two graves, noticing another clear difference: not a single person had left flowers at Remus’ grave.

In life, Patton had only known Remus as a nuisance, Roman’s obnoxious younger brother who sometimes spouted the wildest, most horrible tangents. He was revolting, in every sense of the word, but that was only the side that Remus had shown to the world. What if there had been more to him? What if Remus had just needed time to grow out of his childish ways? He and Roman were brothers, surely that meant there was something redeemable in them both?

Patton wasn’t certain, and now he never would be, but he certainly wasn’t about to talk bad about the dead. At the very least, the sight of the graves brought a new pang to Patton’s heart that he hadn’t expected. A pang of sympathy to the …. Maybe not unloved, but less loved Prince sibling.  

Patton glanced at the single rose he had brought, which looked a bit pathetic compared to Roman’s wreath. He had brought it for his love, but with a quick prayer that Roman would forgive him Patton knew what he needed to do. He knelt before Remus’ tombstone, placing the rose at the foot of the stone.

“I’m sorry the world wants to forget you.” Patton whispered, laying a soft kiss on the headpiece. 

The next time Patton came, and every time thereafter, he brought two roses. One placed amongst Roman’s garden, and one laid at Remus’ grave. Patton felt better about this, making certain both spirits were honored. He would sit between the two patches of dirt, talking to one and then the other. It was difficult sometimes to find conversation for Remus, as Patton didn’t want to build up a version of Remus in his head that would be inaccurate to life, and he had never known Remus well. So instead, Patton would talk about himself. He’d tell them both how he was doing, what had happened that week, what people he saw.

“I’m applying to colleges now.” Patton informed them. He picked at a string in his pants, uncertain. “I don’t know what I’ll be doing, but mom thinks it’s best to get a head start at community college and figure it out from there.” He took a deep breath, looking at the pieces of stone. “She also says I should go to my Aunt’s house. She says all this time in a cemetery is depressing.”

Patton didn’t see it that way. After all, the people he cared about most were here.

“I don’t want to go.” Patton bit his lip. He sat back, a gentle breeze blew through the cemetery, ruffling Patton’s hair. “I don’t think I’m ready to let go.”

The graves didn’t answer.

“How am I supposed to move on, anyhow?” A frustrated Patton ranted, not noticing the way his voice cracked. “How is it that everyone has just- just forgotten you’re here? Mrs. Prince never comes anymore, your own mother. Why not? Why doesn’t she care? Why doesn’t anyone care?”

Tears pricked at Patton’s eyes now and he let them fall, watching the clouds drift idly through a sky that was far too blue for the melancholy nature of this world.

“They say grief takes time.” Patton’s voice was soft now, afraid the words wouldn’t come out if he spoke too loud. “Logan was explaining the stages to me the other day. I guess I’m in bargaining now, because I would give anything to bring you back.”

“...anything?”

Patton bolted upright, pressing his glasses to his nose as he took in the mysterious stranger that was only a few feet away. He scurried to his feet, heart racing at the realization he hadn’t even heard them approach.

“Who are you?” Patton asked warily.

The stranger didn’t answer, instead looking over the headstones in turn. “Which one?”

“I beg your pardon?” Patton took a few cautious steps back.

“You said you would give anything to bring him back.” The stranger gestured to the graves. “So, choose one.”

Patton didn’t understand the question. Or rather, he did, but what the stranger suggested was impossible. “It’s not nice to make fun of the grieving.” Patton frowned.

“And it’s not nice to play with fate.” The stranger replied. “If your Roman were alive, the grief would consume him. He would not be the same Roman you once knew. Indeed, the same would fair for Remus, who would be compared to his dead brother’s accomplishments to the end of his manic days.”

“They were a set.” Patton slowly realized. 

“And if you were to bring both back…” The stranger gave a disappointed click of his tongue. “They would tear each other apart.”

“No they wouldn’t!” Patton immediately protested. “They were brothers. They loved each other, deep down.”

“I’m certain they did.” The stranger shrugged, crossing his arms. “But their squabbling crashed one car, it would only be a matter of time until they crashed into another. It’s safer this way.” 

“Don’t.” Patton hissed, once again defensive of the twin’s legacy. “Don’t you dare try and turn this tragedy into some sort of miracle. They didn’t deserve this. People can change.”

“People are ignorant, stubborn-headed fools.” The stranger adjusted his gloves. “Anyone who changes is just displaying a new facade so others are blind to the hideousness beneath.”

“Stop it!” Patton protested. “Stop saying such things, they’re not true! Who are you anyway, to insult the dead in such a crass manner?”

The stranger paused, looking up with a considering expression. “Well I daresay speaking of Remus at least in such tones would be a wonderful addition to his legacy. He would find my attitude humorous.”

“You don’t know a thing about what Remus would have wanted.” Patton assured him.

“Well, I should hope I would.” The stranger gave a sad sort of chuckle, pushing up the brim of his hat. “I was, after all, his only friend.”

Patton paused, waiting with raised eyebrows for a further introduction or explanation. He received neither.

“Would you tell me about him?” Patton asked, his quiet inquiry not unlike a child.

“Certainly.” The stranger agreed, settling into the grass. Patton followed his lead, sitting down so that they both were looking at the graves of the twins.

“In exchange, I can tell you about Roman.” Patton offered.

“I think I know enough about Roman Prince.” The stranger scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe you don’t.” Patton argued. “I thought I knew Remus.”

The stranger gave him a considering glance. “That was an almost adequate hypothesis. Very well, but keep the ‘juicy’ details to a minimum, if you please. We don’t need to wake Remus’ spirit from his slumber.”

Patton turned a shade of pink at the mere indication of indecency. “I- I won’t.” He stammered. “It’s not, ah, it wasn’t like that.”

“Of course it wasn’t.” The stranger agreed. “We can tell ourselves all sorts of lies, like how the sadness of grief will never leave or that it is better to waste your money buying flowers for dead children.”

Patton listened to the way the stranger spoke, noting only now that he must have come to grieve too. Why else would he have come here? 

“I may be a lovesick fool.” Patton said. “But I’m not the only one.”

“Oh?” The stranger raised an eyebrow.

“Mhmm.” Patton nodded, his eyes glazing over a moment. “I see what you were doing now. You think it’s easier to grieve if you focus on how their deaths could benefit you, never allowing yourself to think about how it hurt you.”

The stranger was quiet a minute. “Grief is all in your head. It just needs to be suppressed.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Patton shook his head. He was getting better at that, letting his negative emotions run their course. “Grief hurts us, but it heals us, too.” 

“Does it?” The stranger hummed noncommittally. “You don’t seem to be doing much healing.”

“Neither do you.” Patton deflected. “How often do you come here?”

The stranger didn’t answer. He shifted, sitting sideways to the graves now. Patton followed his lead, sitting back to back. The wind rustled the trees at the edge of the cemetery, the branches creaking. An eerie but not unpleasant sound.

“Was this your first loss?” The stranger asked, surprising Patton.

“Yes.” Patton nodded. “You?”

“Second.” The stranger held up two fingers. “My father died when I was six.”

“I’m so sorry.” Patton offered his sympathies.

“Don’t be, you didn’t kill him.” The stranger huffed. “I don’t need sympathy. I have enough of it.”

Patton could understand that. He leaned a bit further against the individual. He sighed, the aching coming back to his chest as he glanced again at the graves. “Does it ever go away?”

“...no.” The stranger admitted. “But sometimes it hurts less.”

[yukiwrites]

Byleth, Furtive

Thanks for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! Starting this year’s prompts with a lot of info! This is always so fun to write aksçjdlamd

Summary: Being forbidden by Manuela, Hanneman and Sothis to talk to Rhea about the reason why he bore Sothis’ Crest Stone, Byleth resorts to unsavory means of obtaining information... namely breaking into Rhea’s room. He finds what he wants, but what they all discover later makes sense only to the Goddess...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10  - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14  - Part 15

It was time for the morning mass -- the lazy sun had barely set itself up in the sky, its weak rays of light barely keeping the cold of the previous night at bay.

Apart from the devouts and the members of the Church, barely anyone was up at that Goddess-forsaken time.

Ah, but if only.

"This is a terrible idea!" Sothis, the Goddess herself, cursed at the one who hosted her consciousness. She kicked and screamed, wanting to pull Byleth's hair until he was almost entirely bald. "Listen to me, you!"

The Professor could swear he felt tugs on his hair, though it took everything he had to focus on the lock he was picking to be able to shut Sothis' voice out. He inadvertently stuck out the tip of his tongue in his concentration, droplets of sweat itching down his temple as he did so.

After finally hearing a comforting 'click' coming from the lock, Byleth's entire body relaxed as he breathed out in relief. "If I can't talk to her, the least I can do it look through her things, right? She's bound to have something on my mother here... if she truly was Rhea's protegée."

"Don't you throw this on me, young man! Not only one, but three voices of reason told you not to confront her, and I can assure you that BREAKING INTO HER ROOM ISN'T THE BETTER SOLUTION!" Sothis screeched and Byleth was sure that if he had actually heard it with his ears instead of inside his head they would be ringing. "Go back, go back right now!"

Promptly ignoring his mindmate's warnings, Byleth quietly slipped inside, pushing the door to a close behind him. Rhea's personal room was the only building that was completely detached from the monastery and the cathedral both, with only a stone bridge connecting them. From the outside, it rather looked like a small temple, with what the round columns and triangular ceiling, though it was somewhat normal once one was inside: albeit as big as a noblewoman's room, it was also cramped.

It comported the canopy bed in the middle, a large bookshelf on the left, alongside a sturdy-looking desk while the wardrobe, folding screen and bathtub were cramped on the right side. 

For a brief moment, Sothis clutched her chest, her voice dying down while she collected herself. The room of the child who was most attached to her -- and it looked like any other room, there was no personal touch or whatsoever. How had she lived her life after casting away the alias of Seiros? There was something driving her, that much was obvious, but... what was it? To the point of forsaking her very right of being her own person...

While Sothis was overwhelmed with such thoughts, Byleth thanked the soft pair of boots he had worn specifically for this earlier that morning -- he made no sound as he walked, nor did he leave any dirt behind his steps. Carefully did he eye the room before daring to touch it, not wanting to leave any unwanted marks.

First things first, how about he checked under the bed? The most classical hiding spot... He lowered himself to peek, his blue hair cascading on the floor as he squinted to see in the dark.

"What, there's actually something," he murmured as though he wanted to hear Sothis' feedback on his search. That managed to snap his mindmate's out of her own thoughts, making her widen her eyes.

"A box under the bed? What could this be- ughhh, this is so wrong, so terribly dangerous, but I am overcome with curiosity... take it out! Quick!" She materialized before him, sitting on the bed as if it were her own. "Open it, open it!" She urged as Byleth placed the box on the floor by the bed, kneeling in a position that would allow him to sprint out at the mention of any danger.

Carefully did he pull the lid out, and what greeted him from inside made him flicker his brow in surprise, then press his lips into a thin line.

A long, bluish lock of hair tied in a green ribbon sat atop a wide array of yellowed paper. Without even missing a beat, Byleth reached out to it, scared for a split second that touching it might make the fragile, old hair crumble. "Mother..."

Rhea had said that he looked a lot like his mother, both physically and personality-wise. So that battered, almost grey lock of hair unmistakingly belonged to his mother, which made the young Professor feel a lump grow in his throat.

Slowly did he pick the lock of hair, so very carefully it felt like a hundred years had passed until he brought it high enough to touch his face on it. 

The motherly embrace he never had the luxury to have. At last they were reunited.

Sothis patted Byleth's head in sympathy, allowing the young man the time he needed to compose himself. After a moment, he carefully placed the hair inside his pouch, any complaints Sothis had about pilfering something out of Rhea's room not even leaving her lips in the first place. It was something Byleth needed, after all, so she wouldn't complain.

Also, it probably belonged to him, anyway.

"We've not much time! You can contemplate the similarities between you two after we're out of here! For now, let's see what's in these documents and leave!" She urged, kicking her feet on the bed -- if she had an actual body, that would've hit Byleth on the face countless times, but alas, they simply went through his body.

Nodding, the Professor quickly unwrapped the brittle knot tying a pack of folded letters, carefully opening the first one.

The lump slapped his face, back in full force into his throat.

It was a letter from his mother -- Lilith was her name, as she had signed every single one of them -- to his father. It seemed that she never managed to send them, or that those were the ones she scrapped before sending a proper one.

Nevertheless, they were as romantic -- or cheesy, as Sothis commented with a mock sigh -- as Jeralt's entries were about her. Some of them contained information Jeralt barely gave Byleth after they arrived at the monastery: how happy she was to bear his child, how much she felt by simply receiving a flower or spending time with him... It brought warmth and pain into Byleth's heart.

He couldn't help but sob as he went through a few of the letters, his shoulders shrinking as though he were back to being a child, but now an orphaned one; alone in a world that had robbed him of his parents.

That line of thought managed to make the Professor straighten his back and sniffle back the tears, if only to focus on the matter at hand: it steeled his resolve in seeking revenge for his father's death and uncovering the truth behind his mother's.

From the letters and some of the other documents tied beside them, it did seem as though Lilith was Rhea's protegée -- there were a few lines of Rhea herself commenting on how much Lilith had 'improved' compared to the other ones, though there wasn't much apart from that to go on.

Other ones? Improved? Perhaps Rhea had kept multiple protegées throughout her endless life?

Regardless, Byleth, urged by an impatient Sothis, quickly and neatly put everything sans the lock of hair back in its rightful place, taking a last look at the room to check if he hadn't touched anything unnecessarily before stepping out. Sothis stood guard to check if there were any bystanders, and only when she gave her signal did the Professor leave the room, promptly reverse-picking it so as to lock it back.

At hurried steps, Byleth left the cathedral area, all but running towards the monastery once he was sufficiently far. "Sothis, what if-" he huffed as he ran up the stairs, two steps at a time, "what if we can check my mother's Crest through these strands of hair?"

Already expecting such line of thought, their minds one and all, Sothis placed one hand under her chin in thought. "It might all be for naught if she bore no Crest, as you well know." She said as he ran towards Hanneman's office. "However, if she wasn't... then perhaps that will be the answer we need to uncover this mystery once and for all."

"Hanneman!" Byleth banged the door to the older professor's office open, though found it empty. "Huh? He's usually here at this time-"

"It's the wee hours of the morning, you moron!" Sothis whacked the back of Byleth's head, though she, too, was guilty of that for not thinking of the time. Not that she was about to admit it, of course. "Go back to your room and rest, or go fishing! Be mindful of Hanneman's age and let the old man have his rest."

Byleth's head drooped as though he were a puppy getting scolded. "I can't sit still. Do you think this Crest-analyzer is hard to check? When I went to check mine, I just had to touch it..."

"Don't even think about it!" Sothis hissed at the same time a muffled voice said something by the door.

"My word! Professor Byleth? How come you're here at this hour?" Hanneman adjusted his monocle.

"What? Someone else bothering me this early in the morning?" Manuela groaned from behind the older man, her voice dragged itself as though it was an effort in itself to speak. "As if a crazy old man asking how to preserve a bloodstained shirt wasn't enough..." She grumbled, rubbing her eyes as she entered, immediately gasping once she saw who it was. "O-oh! Byleth!"

It was as though all three were caught red-handed: Byleth held a bluish lock of hair while Hanneman tried to hide a bloodstained shirt behind his back while Manuela carried a jar containing a transparent chemical.

"Ah, you know- that is... Professor, I have a confession to make." Hanneman's shoulders sagged as he flashed the shirt he had been holding on to. It could barely be called as such, since it was in tatters -- stained with blood, mud and Goddess knew what else. "As we were treating Sir Jeralt's body, I thought that it would be a shame to throw such a precious object of study, though I didn't know when to ask you if I could use it..."

"Can you even hear this old man? Keep someone else's father's blood just so he could satisfy his curiosity?! And I'm no better, finding chemicals to help him preserve it-"

"Actually, this is exactly what I've been looking for." Byleth blurted out with his characteristic expressionless face. Both Hanneman and Manuela exchanged surprised glances, their mouths wide open. "This," Byleth carefully lifted the hand that held the hair, "belonged to my mother. I wanted to know if I could find out if she had a Crest... If you have Dad's blood, we can test it as well."

“What about… decorum…” Manuela muttered as she allowed herself to fall on a nearby chair. Hanneman also hesitated, despite his own heart leaping at the opportunity to learn more about the ever mysterious Jeralt.

“Are- are you truly sure about this, son? It hasn’t been long since, well…” He trailed off.

Byleth would be lying if he said he was completely okay with using his dead parents as test subjects, but it was the only thing he could do without directly confronting the most dangerous being in the world, so he had to do it. “I am. Can you do it now? Or do you need something else?”

“Immediately!” Hanneman replied, running towards the analyzer and placing the darkest stain of blood right over it. “It will only take a few seconds…”

The room stilled with tension until they all heard a ‘click’ coming from the magical machine. Hanneman yelped with joy and surprise.

“A major Crest of Seiros?! Sir Jeralt?!” The older man took a step back. “The only known bloodline to rarely carry this specific crest would be House Hresvelg... Well, other than Lady Rhea, Seiros in the flesh, of course” Hanneman sweated, testing two more times to make sure that he had seen it right -- starting to even doubt he had Jeralt’s shirt. “That can mean two things: either she also bestowed her Crest to Jeralt somewhen or your Father is from the Empire’s own royal bloodline!”

Byleth shook his head slowly. “No. Dad was from the Kingdom -- Rhea said so herself when she mentioned the day she saved Dad’s life during their first meeting. Maybe it was then that she shared her blood with him.” Byleth said at the same time Sothis pursued that line of thought, echoing what was on her mind. “Can you figure out a Crest through one’s hair?” He asked right after, carefully handing Hanneman the lock.

“Yes, it takes a while longer, but it is possible.” Still frowning, the older man accepted the brittle hair, carefully placing it over the machine. It clunked with magical energy, then buzzed lightly before emitting a ‘click’ once again. “This!” Hanneman gasped loudly, adjusting his monocle as though it could be lying to him. “How can this-”

Byleth widened his eyes as Sothis’s expression fell.

Now she understood everything. Oh, how painfully so.

The machine displayed her own Crest, the Crest of Flames, as brightly as it did when Byleth was checked for the second time. Sothis lowered her head, whispering her daughter’s name with sorrow. “Oh, Rhea…”

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Wheels Set In Motion, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: As the situation in New Ham takes a dark, mysterious turn, Campbell is faced with a threat he never saw coming. With few allies and the past coming back to haunt him, he is forced to deal with a world that is crumbling fast, and choices with grim consequences.

Rating: Explicit.

Tags: Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Addiction Recovery, Unhealthy Relationships, Teen Pregnancy, Past Rape/Non-con, Campbell Isn't The Dad, Brother Feels, Attempted Murder, Supernatural Elements, Gay Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5654

Part Three || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

A day passed, then two. Grizz was gracious enough to take care of Campbell. He kept an eye on him when he could, making sure to let him have time to go to the bathroom, stretch, get food and water, and he gave Campbell a pillow to lean his head on at night. Luke and Clark took shifts when Grizz needed a break, and they were far less accommodating. They put water inches away from where he could reach, laughing while watching him struggle.

"Knock it off," Grizz snapped when he saw it happen. That was the last time they tried it. "Christ. I'm sorry." Campbell fought against the burning, sharp feeling in his chest. "It's whatever. They just need some way to feel powerful. Fucking wimps." Grizz didn't argue. Day two oozed by, and Campbell's shoulder had gone from aching, to throbbing and painful, to numb. His legs cramped and he was dizzy from a lack of sleep. Thankfully, Allie decided to visit him that evening. For a moment, Campbell had hope that she was letting him free; that hope evaporated when he saw the look in her eyes. "Allie, it's been days. Is all this really necessary?" he still tried, jiggling the handcuff. "Just uncuff me and lock the door or whatever. I'm not gonna jump out the window." Sitting on the bed, Allie shrugged. "Maybe." "I'm going to get pressure sores or something." "Yeah. That's what we should be worried about." "It is. I had nothing to do with killing Cassandra." "That's all you have to say?" Campbell gave an exasperated groan. "What else is there? Goddamn it, Allie, this is ridiculous. Your sister and I were cousins. Family. We were friends." He gestured to the air. "Besides, what do you expect? Huh? I can't prove it didn't happen. Can he prove it did?" "I can't tell you that." "I've barely spoken to Dewey our whole lives. Harry doesn't even like him, not that I can remember, anyways. He's always been a fucking asshole who just hangs around for scraps." "Then why did he accuse you?" "Are you really that fucking dense? You know my reputation." Oh, she knew his reputation all too well. Allie's eyes blinked a little too fast. A nervous response. "Answer the question." "I was the most obvious pick. It was a desperate move. You asked him if he had help, didn't you?" Campbell leaned back against the radiator. Allie wasn't as outwardly icy as Cassandra, but she was equally ruthless. It was hidden under the surface, waiting for just enough power to roar to life. "What did you promise him if he named names? What did you say would happen, if he didn't?" "That has nothing to do with--" "It has everything to do with it. People will tell you anything if they think their life is in danger. Big fucking duh." "I need to know what happened that night. Just tell me." "He killed her. It's that simple." "Alone? Because I don't think so." Allie leaned forward. "If not you, then Harry." Campbell snorted. "Harry? No, no." "Then who?" "Are you asking for my opinion?" When Allie stood and began to pace, Campbell rolled his eyes. Oh, that was rich. She imprisoned him and then wanted his insight. "Harry's a scared little puppy. Too bold for him. Too much effort. He can barely get out of bed these days, and he didn't really hate Cassandra like that, anyways." "Who do you think did it, then?" Humoring her, Campbell gave the question some thought. He examined everyone on the party list, and even the town populace in general. He couldn't think of anyone else who would have been that desperate for Harry's approval. "No one. Dewey did it alone. Just an entitled white boy who hates strong women. Pretty much the story with any shooter." "Classic misogyny," Allie mumbled. She chewed on her thumbnail. "Was that really all it was?" Campbell tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but there wasn't one. Everywhere hurt. They hadn't let him have any visitors-- not even Sam-- and her was starting to go from bored to annoyed. If she hadn't chained him up like a rabid dog, maybe he'd have been more sympathetic, but the only one who had his sympathy was in the ground. Everyone else was just grinding on his last nerve, but he couldn't escape to calm down. "Allie, are you gonna let me go?" "I haven't decided yet." "But if I'm innocent--" Allie's mouth pulled into a little smirk. "You think so? Maybe you didn't do this, but that doesn't mean you're innocent." "You're joking." There was no way in hell she could just detain him for some personal grudge. He felt his adrenaline start to kick in, but goddamn it, all he could do was tug uselessly at the handcuff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sitting back down, Allie rested her chin on her hand and stared at Campbell. "Are you scared of me?" A big mistake on her part, saying that. Campbell perked a little, stopping to analyze that question. Are you scared of me? She'd mistaken his desire to get the fuck away from her as fear. And she wanted him to be scared. She wanted him afraid of her... because she'd always been afraid of him. Hate, fear. It made people do terrible shit. Like, for example, threaten to keep one's cousin locked up-- or worse-- just because they'd been a prick. That, combined with Sam's story, must have made Allie afraid. Campbell smiled, relaxing into the handcuff and focusing his gaze on her. "You have no evidence against me. I didn't do shit, and you know it. So, let me guess. You're keeping me here because you're all scared of me." He grinned as her expression froze. "And, what? You finally have a way to deal with your Campbell problem? I'm guilty of being fucked up in the head, so I deserve to be locked up? Or worse? Is that it? I'm the kind of weirdo it's acceptable to pop in the head and get rid of." "I didn't say anything about killing anyone." He laughed. "Let's drop the act and stop being coy, Allie." Campbell's smile faded as he dug through his memory for every little bit of information he had on Allie, and her personality. Every little thing that made her weak. "The thing is, if you do that, you're gonna have to be the one to pull the trigger. That's how it is, as the leader. But you don't like to make tough choices, do you? You're not Cassandra." Her nose twitched in disgust. He had her. "Fuck you." "You can't kill me and not Dewey. That wouldn't make sense. So then you, you've killed two people. And Allie, you might be all kinds of fucked up, too. I don't know. But I do know you're not like me." "So what? I don't have to be." "Yeah, you do. How are you gonna sleep at night, knowing you're a murderer? Knowing that you killed your own family just because people are ignorant and afraid? Because you're ignorant and afraid?" "I..." "You'll never get rid of me, cousin. We'll visit you," he whispered as he leaned forward, close enough that he could see the tears springing up in her eyes. "Cassandra and I. Every night in your sleep." Allie swallowed, standing quickly and walking towards the bedroom door. She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. "Maybe I'll just have to live with that." But the calm in her voice faltered, and that was all he needed. Campbell chuckled, and Allie retreated out the door, shoving her way past Sam and heading downstairs. It was enough to soothe that ache in his chest, in his fingers, that commanded him to rip and tear and make her suffer. But then he saw Sam looking at him with that look, and Campbell felt the wind leave his sails just a touch. "Are you Plan B?" Campbell asked as Sam came in the room. "No. I'm not supposed to be in here." Sam sat next to Campbell on the floor. He tucked his knees up to his chest, and signed slowly. A small mercy, considering Campbell was operating on a total of twenty minutes of sleep. "I just wanted to see you." "You know I can't stay locked up like this." "I'm going to see what I can do. It just doesn't look very good right now." "If she decides to kill me..." Sam's signing turned sharp, angry. "I won't let her do that. I won't." "How do you plan to stop her?" "I'll get Grizz to let you go. I'll take you home, stay with you until she backs off." "Thanks for the sentiment." Campbell glanced at the watch on Sam's wrist. It was just past midnight. Day three had begun. "Go get some rest, Sam. You look almost as shitty as I do." Because he hadn't been sleeping, either, Campbell realized as Sam rubbed his face and gave a long, weary sigh. "Goodnight, Campbell." "Night, Sam." Campbell waited until Sam was gone before kicking over the empty soda can Grizz had brought in at dinner. It was bullshit. They locked him up for days without any proof at all, besides the words of a convicted murderer, chained to a radiator like a fucking animal. Allie outright threatened that she would keep him like that even if he didn't do it. And to put all that on not only him, but Sam? Sam was innocent. He didn't deserve to worry like that, especially not over Campbell; was Allie really that desperate for revenge? Sleep that night went the same way it had since he'd been arrested. Trying to get comfortable, but the metal of the handcuff chaffed and bit into his wrist, the radiator coils pushed into his neck and back and shoulders, and the hard wood floor made his hips ache. He could hear noise from other rooms. He could hear when everyone went to sleep, and then there was just silence. Silence, except for the creak of the floor outside his room when whoever was guarding him moved around. Creak. Campbell startled awake out of the half-sleep he'd just slipped into. He tried again. Ten minutes, twenty minutes went by. Creak. He woke up again. All night long, and eventually, Campbell gave up like he had before and settled into a sort of zoned-out trance. Grizz came by and made sure he had lunch. "It's nothing fancy," he said as he gave Campbell water, a cheese sandwich, and dried cranberries. "But I know you don't like meat and you're on prison rations until Allie makes up her mind." "How's that looking?" Campbell wondered, poking at the food. His own hand didn't even look real anymore. "Any progress?" "Not much. People are starting to whisper." "People have been whispering. They're starting to get pissed." Grizz peeked out the door. "I'm worried she's gonna lose it. People want answers, leadership, and I believe in her but she doesn't believe in herself. People are gonna notice that." "It's because she has to want it." "She doesn't want it." And there was the problem, right there. A teen girl suffering the loss of her big sister, forced to step into her shoes, with the responsibility of an entire society on her shoulders. Campbell knew what their family was like. The pressure there was to be perfect, to compete against one's sibling, to see one's parents pick a favorite when one couldn't live up to the high expectations. It was a lot to try and handle. Allie, forever in Cassandra's shadow, unable to be the perfect little baby that her parents wanted. Campbell could understand how it felt, but at this rate, she was gonna snap. And then someone would take things from her. Oh, no. What a shame. Except it would be, because everything Cassandra worked for would be gone, if things landed into the hands of the wrong person. There were footsteps on the stairs, and Grizz ducked back out of the room before they were seen talking. Luke's voice rose up from outside, muffled. A better guard than Clark. Luke, at least, would come in every so often and ask Campbell if he needed anything. He still didn't stop Gordie from hovering near the door and glaring. Maybe if Allie didn't try and do him in, one of the others would. It wouldn't be surprising. What was surprising was, later that night, Campbell heard shouting from downstairs. Grizz had returned to his post at Campbell's room, but quickly shut the door once the yelling began. Campbell strained to hear, but he could only tell who was arguing, not so much what they were arguing about. He could hear Will and Luke, faintly, but Allie moreso. It didn't last long, whatever was happening. Soon, the door swung open and Allie stomped in, slamming the door behind her. "You're right." Campbell tensed as Allie sat down across from him. She looked angry, with her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. "What?" "I've been scared of you my whole life. And for just one second, I wanted you to know what that felt like." She crossed her arms. "But you didn't, did you?" "I'm not scared of you. I'm worried about what you might do." "And what did you think I was going to do?" "You know what I thought." Allie studied the floor. "I thought that maybe I'd keep you here, locked up, to teach you a lesson. Some people have told me it'd be easier to just get rid of you. That it'd be safer for you to be gone, before you actually do anything to hurt people." "And?" He kept his tone even, but he felt his heart begin to slam harder as his brain tried to figure some way out. "What did you decide?" Standing up, Allie reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. She unlocked the handcuffs and waited for Campbell to get to his feet. She latched onto his wrist and led him out the back door, away from where everyone else was. Allie opened the door and shoved him onto the back porch. "Get out." It hurt to walk, and his legs felt like lead and jello at the same time, but Campbell didn't wait around for her to change her mind. He didn't even think to text Elle or Harry; he just raced home as quick as he could. Campbell could hear the piano playing from inside. Who was that? The playing stopped when he entered the home. Elle's voice floated through the silence. "Who's there?" Campbell felt a wave of relief as he turned the corner and saw Elle. It was a new sensation. A little spark of joy, a feeling of being home and safe. She was there, and she was alright. They all were, for now. "I'm free." "How..." Elle stood, stammering. Her eyes were wide. "How did you get out?" "I didn't do anything, so she let me go." "Oh." Tilting his head, Campbell walked up to Elle and stroked her cheek. She looked more like a deer in the headlights than a concerned girlfriend. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be happy to see me." Elle threw her arms around Campbell's neck, burrowing her face into his shoulder. "I am! So much." She kissed his cheek, running her hands through his hair. "So much. We were so worried." We. Campbell glanced up, seeing movement behind Elle. Harry stood in the doorway of the room, dark circles under his eyes and a blanket curled tightly around his shoulders; he kept his distance, but once Elle had left for work, Harry followed him upstairs. Campbell knew it was inappropriate for Harry to sleep beside him, but Campbell was too tired to stop him. That was the excuse Campbell made for himself, anyways. Harry sunk his fingers into Campbell's shirt, nestling close. Campbell fell into a heavy sleep, finally comfortable in his own bed. When he woke up, Harry was still there, sniffling softly with red-rimmed eyes. He didn't seem to notice Campbell was awake. Not until Campbell lightly wrapped his arms arms around Harry, anyways; Harry jumped a little, but then leaned into the embrace. "I thought they were gonna..." His voice broke. "Fucking dicks." Campbell softened his voice. "Hey, it's okay. They didn't do anything to me. We're going to be okay now, alright? Everything is going to be okay." "How do you know that? If they try again--" "Then there will be hell to pay." Campbell knew it was an idle threat. If Allie and her minions came for him again, no one would be able to stop them. Elle and Harry didn't have enough power to stop them. Still, Harry relaxed a little at the words. "Trust me." Harry's mouth twitched at the corner. "Never." "Smart boy." The house was cooler than usual as the sun went down; clouds were forming, and there was a breeze, heralding the chance of rain. Campbell was loathe to move away from the warmth of their blankets and shared body heat, but Elle would be home soon and they had their own jobs to get to. Harry bit his lip and gave Campbell a look that was almost pleading-- not yet, just a few more moments-- but Campbell stood and threw on fresh clothing. He couldn't give in to the desire for closeness. Neither of them could, especially not now when tensions were already so high. Maybe once things calmed down... If they calmed down. Elle gave Campbell a quick peck on the cheek as they passed one another on the porch. Campbell was tempted to say fuck work, and just stay home with Elle to make some coffee and watch a movie, but he had to try to be on good behavior. He couldn't give Allie a reason to fuck around with him again. But it sucked, like it always sucked, and he was happy when it was time for dinner. Elle joined him and Harry for it, and after a bit of clean-up, they could go home. Campbell was glad to get home and finally get a shower, but a closer look in his closet revealed something that made him pause. He hadn't noticed before, but there was a familiar pair of jeans and a shirt hanging there that hadn't been there before. He knew, because those were the clothes he wore the night Charlie disappeared. There was still a trace of blood on the jeans. Neither Harry or Elle had asked about them. It could have been either of them that washed the things, but Harry's idea of putting clothes away was tossing them on a chair and hoping for the best. No, the meticulous one was Elle. "Hey, babe?" Campbell asked Elle when she came back to the bedroom. He held up the shirt and wiggled it. "Where'd you find these?" Elle gave them a quick glance before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Under the bed. I did the laundry while you were gone." A pause. "There was blood on your jeans. Are you okay?" Fuck. Campbell followed her into the bathroom, kissing her shoulder. "Oh, yeah. It's just allergy season. I get nosebleeds sometimes. Sorry, I didn't want you to worry." She couldn't say anything with a mouth full of toothpaste, but Elle nodded. Campbell thought he saw a flicker of... something, but his eyelids felt like lead and his body was sluggish. He needed sleep, and Elle snuggled up to him just as close as usual, so what was there to worry about? He was just tired, and letting his disorder run off with him like it often did. He was home. He was safe. Campbell was just crawling out of bed when the text came in. Allie had made a decision; she was calling everyone to the church at 8am. Half an hour. Elle was already stumbling around getting dressed, and Harry had fallen asleep in the clothes he wore the day before, so they made it to the church with a handful of minutes to spare. They hadn't eaten. Elle looked like she wanted to be ill, and Harry was silent and shaking; neither looked hungry, and Campbell wasn't going to force himself, either. When they got to the church, Campbell stopped a few yards away. "Go in without me," he said. He remembered the shouts and cheers of the people when he got arrested. Campbell could picture their snide, smug faces in his mind. "I'll wait here." Harry stopped, while Elle went inside. "Are you sure you'll be alright out here?" "Of course." The real answer was actually of course not, and Harry knew this. Still. Harry followed Elle into the church; he was nothing if not obedient. Campbell tucked himself into a shaded spot, out of view, and waited. The air was thick and warm already, the start of a hot day. Campbell had just started to doze off when the church doors slammed open, and Dewey was dragged out kicking, screaming, cursing. Campbell only heard one sentence-- fuck you, you goddamn bitch-- before Dewey was stuffed into the guard's SUV. When Allie came out a few moments later, she looked stoic. The guard members at her side were less so. Grizz was hard to read, but there was a little wrinkle between his eyebrows, and Luke had his eyes fixed on the ground like somehow he wanted to sink into the concrete. Campbell stood and approached. Everyone but Grizz tensed, but Allie muttered something to her herd and they backed off. "Campbell," Allie said. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "You weren't at the meeting." Campbell shrugged. "Being there wouldn't have helped any, right? Anyways. Thought it'd be a good idea if I gave you some space this morning." "Then why are you here?" "For the same reason I was there for Cassandra. I knew it'd be hard for you." Allie stared hard at him, before turning her gaze a little over his shoulder. She was ashamed of her choice. Or, rather, of what she felt she had to do. "We're executing him tomorrow." "Solomon." Campbell tilted his head. The closer he looked at Allie, the more she looked away from him. "You're actually splitting the baby." That made her look at him. Allie pursed her lips, defiant. "I did it for Cassandra." "I know you did. I would have done the same thing." A dig, just to make Allie squirm. Campbell would have enjoyed the queasy look that flitted across her face, if it hadn't been about Cassandra. "Good luck." Maybe she sensed that he meant it, that good luck, because for a single heartbeat of time she looked at him like maybe he wasn't some sort of monster. But then she turned on her heels and headed off, with her lapdogs at her heels. A better reception than he expected, anyways. Campbell turned his attention to Elle and Harry, who emerged from the church and headed towards him. "I can't believe it," Harry mumbled. "She's really going through with it." Elle's lips were pressed into a thin line, but her tone was even. "So what?" She shrugged. "He murdered Cassandra. People who do terrible things deserve what they get." "Maybe, but..." Campbell walked a few paces ahead of them as they went home, trying to tune them out; it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. He knew that, in the end, what he said to Allie had almost been true. It was so very tempting to take the easy route, and Campbell was very sure that the death penalty was the easy route-- easier than having to watch over an inmate for fuck knew how long, anyways, and have him using up resources. That didn't mean he agreed with the death penalty, especially since Cassandra had been against it, and Campbell had heard all the arguments against it from her. In normal society, it didn't deter crime at all, it was more expensive than life without parole, and innocent people sometimes were killed. But this wasn't normal society. The society they were in now was tiny, brittle, and scared. Resources were finite. The guard was already stretched thin. Regardless of what Cassandra would have wanted, regardless of what should have been true and factual, they were playing by different rules now. He didn't care to hear moral debates about it. Most people didn't, it seemed like. Lunch, work, and dinner were quiet. Somber. There were some whispers, but it wasn't surprising that there was so much gossip. It was an execution. Campbell could see Harry sink further into himself with every comment, though; Campbell couldn't exactly offer him comfort, not with everyone else watching them like hawks. It seemed that even with Allie declaring them innocent-- or, well, not worth punishing-- people still were eager to find some excuse to condemn them. They were halfway home when Harry just... stopped. Campbell turned back, following Harry's line of sight. He was staring down the street, towards the spot Cassandra's body had been found. "It's my fault," Harry said. He sounded far away. Faint. "I killed them both." "What are you talking about?" "If I hadn't opened my fucking mouth, if I hadn't said what I did..." Campbell slid his hand under Harry's chin and turned his head so that Harry was looking at him. "No. You're not gonna do this. Just because someone says something fucked up doesn't mean someone else has the right to go murder someone over it." Campbell cut Harry off before he could protest. "It was Dewey's fault. He chose to do what he did." Harry gazed at Campbell, the pulled away and kept walking. He didn't say another word, not until they got home. Muttering to himself, Harry went to his room; Campbell followed, wondering what the hell was going on in Harry's mind this time. Harry dug out all the pills he had left, and a few bags of other drugs. Heading into the bathroom, Harry threw open the toilet, dropped the baggies in it, and flushed. They both stood there, watching the drugs vanish. Once they were completely gone, Harry looked up at Campbell. "Will you help me?" There was no question about it. Campbell went through the house and dumped all the alcohol down the drain. It pained Campbell a little. Some of the bottles were old, expensive, and it's not like he'd personally planned to go completely sober himself. Harry needed it, though. Harry needed Campbell and his support. Campbell was in no way sober, and never would be. He'd given up on that idea. But he could try to be, for Harry's sake; he knew what it was like to give up drugs, especially ones like cocaine, and Harry would need all the help he could get. "Thank you," Harry said when they were done. He frowned as he looked around the kitchen, as if unsure of what to do now that it was all gone. "I just... I can't anymore. You know?" "I know. It's gonna be hell for a while. Are you ready for that?" Harry shook his head. "No, but I can't go through this again, Cam. I don't have it in me. If I keep going on like this, one of these days I'll just..." He hesitated, then gave Campbell a weak smile. "Anyways. I think I'll go to bed." Campbell didn't want to leave. It was gonna be a rough night, and it was only going to be rougher for the next week or so. What if it was all a big show, and Harry was going to do something foolish the minute Campbell left him alone? It happened, sometimes. Professionals always said that it was when depressed people started acting better to worry most, because them being calm could be a sign that they'd decided to end their lives. Harry didn't seem calm, he just seemed ready to try and help himself. Still, if-- Harry was staring at him with a knowing look; he stepped closer, and leaned his forehead against Campbell's shoulder. Of course he'd seen the look on Campbell's face, and read it for what it was. He didn't say anything. Campbell didn't, either. It was a brief, wordless comfort, and then Harry ducked into his room and shut the door. Elle was in her pajamas by the time Campbell got upstairs. "Is everything okay?" she asked as she took her make-up off in the bathroom. "Sounded busy down there." "It's fine. Harry's decided he's gonna get off the drugs and the alcohol." Campbell sunk onto the bed and tossed his shirt into the laundry hamper in the corner. "I was helping him dump the alcohol in the house." "Really?" "Yeah, I mean, he kinda lives here now, too. I didn't want him to be tempted." Rinsing off her face, Elle turned off the bathroom light and flopped next to him in bed. "I guess it's a good idea. We don't really need alcohol. Too bad we couldn't have used it in the garden next spring though, to keep the slugs away." "Pretty sure Harry would have mainlined it all by then." "Good point." Campbell watched Elle as she fiddled with her necklace. Her hands kept slipping. "Do you need some help with that? Here." "It's okay," Elle said quickly, ducking away from his hands. "My hands were just damp still." "Are you feeling alright? You've seemed kind of on edge all day." "It's been a rough day, Campbell." "I know, I just... Do you wanna talk about it?" "No. I'll just be happy when it's over and we can move on." Elle tucked herself in and turned off her bedside lamp, but she stayed sitting up n the faint half-light, her eyes on Campbell. "You looked uncomfortable earlier. Don't you think people who hurt others deserve to be punished?" Campbell felt a cold trickle down his neck and spine. "What do you mean?" It was a strange question, and the fervid look in her eyes made him want to just stand up and leave the room. "Is this about us? Because I've been trying really hard to be better, and I know that doesn't change what happened before, but--" "I was just talking to Becca about it, during work." "Becca?" "She thinks it's true." "I don't doubt it. She's always been pretty passionate about her beliefs." Whatever he said, it triggered some sort of change in Elle's attitude. "Yeah." Rolling over, Elle laid down and pulled the blankets over her. "Sorry, I guess I just need some rest. Goodnight, Campbell." Campbell sat up a little longer, then laid down, too. Weird. Weird, but no one seemed to be getting good sleep lately. Maybe, after tomorrow, people would be less... whatever the hell was happening to people. He just wanted things to go back to how they were only a little while ago, sipping lemonade on their porch and admiring the work all three of them had done together. He just wanted to get his head right with Grizz's help, and try to heal things with Sam, and make sure Harry stayed safe and healthy. Campbell wanted to prove himself to Elle. All this death and murder and trial business was making people senseless. The phone rang at 4am. Picking it up, he slipped out of the bedroom and into the hall. "Hello?" "I can't do it." Allie's voice was strained. Whispering. Campbell shut the bedroom door, and headed across the hall to Elle's bathroom. "Too late for that, cousin. If you back out now, you'll look weak. Weak leaders don't survive long." "How can I?" Allie rasped. "How can I take someone's life?" Campbell sat down roughly on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the cool, tiled wall. "Not lightly. But we both watched Game of Thrones, Allie. You remember what Ned Stark said at the very beginning. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." "You're quoting a television show?" "Am I wrong?" A long silence, and a sniffle. "No. I guess not." "Well, then." Campbell traced the small cracks in the floor. He tried to think of something soothing, but there wasn't anything to say. "Do you want me to do it?" "Campbell." "Allie, answer the question. Do you want me to kill him for you? You and I could go out there together, without anyone else around. You don't have to even tell anyone it was me. No one would have to know." "You'd tell them." "I wouldn't." "Why? Why are you offering?" "Why are you calling?" "I..." Allie gulped. She didn't answer, not for a long while. "I don't know. I thought maybe... I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't waver." "There you go, then." "I can't ask you to do it. I have to, don't I?" Campbell had never been close to Allie, and while the despair in her voice didn't stir any pity in him, he could acknowledge that it was a shit situation. "You passed down the sentence, Allie. You gotta swing the sword. Even if it fucking sucks." Allie let out a short, shaking breath, and hung up. Campbell waited for a few minutes, then got up and went back to bed. He didn't fall asleep. The best he could manage was laying down with his eyes closed, listening to Elle's soft snoring, and try to clear his mind of everything that had happened. Impossible, but he could sleep once it was over, done, and there was closure. Once it had been laid to rest, literally, everything would start to heal. A lie, probably, but it was a comfortable one.