#not just the shorts but the fact that your friends with sleep token now like 🤔

[sleepanonymous]

[sunarintoes]

Pretty Setter Squad Boyfriend Headcanons

part one can be found here II wc: 2.4k II includes: kageyama, suga, kenma, akaashi, semi and oikawa II atsumu and shirabu 

rewriting because i cringe at the old hcs 😭

✗ Kagggggsss

✗ The emotionally constipated blueberry <3 oh yeahh 😎

✗ Okay well first off he can barely process his emotions (*cough* evidently *cough*)

✗ When you two first started going out he was quite shy and unsure of what to do so you may have had to guide him a bit, but if youre equally shy then it just would have taken longer to get to where you are now; oh and if that was the case it probably took some random burst of energy/confidence from either one of you to make the first move. 

✗ He will buy you milk but uf you hate it (like me 🤢) he will buy you another drink - like juice :D

✗ I dont think he will be the most affectionate, it’s not his love language - and neither are words haHAH. His love language is most likely quality time and gift giving.

✗ He does like to cuddle though 😳

✗ In fact he really likes to :D his favourite is when youre sitting in his lap while he watches a volleyball game (at home - he hates pda). 

✗ This brings us to our next, short point. Kageyama absolutely despises pda, he just thinks its something meant for closed doors and he does not believe that he has to display his relationship for the whole world to ogle at. The most he will do is light hand holding - mostly just linking your pinkies though.

✗ When it comes to height he does not care if you're smaller or taller than him ← but bb, please don't tease him about his height if he’s shorter because he will blow a fuse.

✗ He alternates between small spoon and big spoon, kinda depending on his mood. 

✗ BOY O BOY does he get jealous. Uh please reign in your setter >:( 

✗ Its mostly due to the fact that he’s insecure about himself - he thinks you will leave him like everyone else (in middle school - yes, he is still traumatised from it.)

✗ When he does get jealous he might be snappy to the other person and glare at them or be snappy at you and glare at you. When this happens please give him space because he needs it to clear his head. When he feels better he will come up to you and hug you into his chest so that he can’t see your face and you cant see his, then he will mumble an apology.

✗ Ever since you two began to date he has practiced apologising and getting better at apologising, this is because his inability to admit to his own mistakes was a sour patch in your relationship that almost ended it but he really did not want to lose you so he sucked up his pride and worked on what he had to; of course you also worked in what you had to. God I love character development 😩

✗ Dates are mostly at home dates or dates revolving around volleyball. If you're not into volleyball, Kageyama would not date you, it's something he is so passionate about and loves with every breath he takes (like you) and he refuses to compromise one love for the other. 

✗ ooooh he likes arcade dates a well! He thrives in a competitive environment. If you're not competitive and don't want to compete against him then he’ll compete for you - against the machines lol. Of course you play as well! But i doubt youre as competitive as this blueberry, and if you are - well i guess at the end of the day youll both be stacked in tokens 🤠

✗ Sugawara my beloved <33

✗ He. Is. So. Affectionate! 

✗ Mans loves skin on skin contact ykwim?

✗ He is down for pda and does not care what others think - only what you think <3. 

✗ I mean he might make out with you in public if you ask nicely 

✗ Dates are very fun with him, he’ll take you to cafes, to amusement parks, to carnivals, to movies and all the like. He’s a cliche lover and he’s proud of it.

✗ Your first kiss happened on New Years Eve/Day. The two of you sat on the roof of his house and watched as the fireworks lit up the starry sky of Miyagi and chanted the count down together. The second ‘one’ left your lips he grabbed your face (softly!!) and pulled you in to crash his lips against yours. 

✗ Suga loves to cuddle, preferably face to face because he just thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. 

✗ He is not the most jealous person, he definitely does get jealous but never of strangers. It's more when his close friends or your close friends get a bit too comfortable if that makes sense? He normally plays it off with humour and messes around because he acknowledges that he is insecure and that it is most likely him thinking of the worst case scenario; however if he really does start to worry and get jealous then he will sit you down and talk about it with you. To him, communication is key. 

✗ Ngl Kenma is definitely in my top 3 favourites. 

✗ I may or may not be a Kenma kinnie 😳🙈

✗ i love my non-toxic gamer boy <33 anywho: no matter what ANYONE says, kenma is definitely affectionate. In fact I'd say he’s one of the most affectionate boyfriends. As we all know, he is shy and introverted but he likes to hang around and spend time with people he likes. He also talks a lot to them. So I hc that he’s a bit of a chatterbox with you and it makes him really happy when you let him talk about a game or a theory he has. He’s a great listener so you can count on him to pay attention to what you say.

✗ if you didn't already have one, he bought you a switch. He loves video game dates especially when he can't see you in person (*cough* lockdown *cough*) 

✗ he loves when you sit on his lap when he plays video games. I know everyone talks about sitting on their partner’s lap as some sexual thing and yeah that can happen but most of the time he’s really soft with you and just enjoys being close to you. Loves when you cuddle into him while he plays so that he can place his head on yours or your shoulder. 

✗ i think he is a bit shy when it comes to kisses but definitely warms up after a while. He absolutely refuses to sleep if he doesnt get your goodnight kisses. He loves to kiss you on your nose and your cheeks the most. He loves when you kiss him on the forehead and the nose <3

✗ kenma is not one for pda, it's just not his vibe. He prefers intimacy and privacy; his relationship is not a movie for the world to watch and gawk at. Especially timeskip!kenma. Though that does not mean he wont ever show you skinship in public, occasionally he will softly hold your hand and maybe press a light kiss to your cheek. 

✗ in terms of jealousy, he is moderate. Kenma, as we all know, has incredible people reading skills, so he understands the situation pretty clearly and knows when you’re uncomfortable/what you think of the situation. Most of the time you can deal with the unwanted attention and he doesnt get jealous, but he does get insecure. He shows this by going quiet and looking away when you look at him, you can cure this by giving him hugs when you get home. 

✗ Akaashi my beloved <3 he’s so pretty i can't even-

✗ ugh! Just imagine him in a dark/light academia aesthetic. 

✗ perfection. 

✗ akaashi is the sweetest most attentive boyfriend, he loves you to pieces and never fails to let you know. He tells you he loves you every morning and every night. He probably makes meals for you and leaves notes in that have a sweet comment like “i love you, you're the best <3” 

✗ he love back hugging you BUT also receiving back hugs 🥺✨

✗ akaashi is a booknerd and an introvert. Please cuddle up to him and let him read his book to you. 

✗ there are only 2 things that can restore his social battery: sleeping and you.

✗ which means he wants cuddles when he’s tired 😊

✗ he is not jealous. He just doesn't get jealous, maybe annoyed if the third party is being a bit too pushy and you're clearly uncomfortable, but he just never feels jealous. No matter how hard you may try to make him jealous (plz dont cause that's kinda toxic imo) he just won't feel that way.

✗ definitely the ‘mom/dad’ as he carries sinister, pads, bandaids → a whole first aid kit basically, everywhere. Bb must be prepared. 

✗ dates are so sweet with him, cute niche cafes and dimly lit libraries. Maybe the occasional abandoned building. He loves spending time with you, so really he's happiest whenever he’s with you; having coffee at McDonalds or a niche cafe won't change anything. 

✗ he’s hard to pinpoint for pda. I feel like he’s indifferent about it. He probably prefers to keep it indoors or to just small and sweet gestures (no making out in public sorry-). It definitely comes down to your preferences, if you don't like it then he won't and vice versa.

✗ semi semi semi semi semi semi

✗ omg mr musician 

✗ he definitely plays guitar - lead guitar and bass guitar. 

✗ skilled fingies for sure 😗

✗ boy why are musicians so hot???? 😫😫😫💦💦

✗ he writes songs about you. Semsem has a bit of trouble saying exactly how he feels, so he writes it and sings it to you with a small little smile and eyes full of love. 

✗ off topic but Semu has the best music taste in haikyuu

✗ he loves hugs so much <33 please hug and cuddle with him 24/7

✗ very affectionate, he’s always touching you someway. Loves kissing your forehead. 

✗ he is jealous. Yeah definitely. He writes songs about being jealous 🗿 not that you mind of course ‘cause they're bangers. I think he might get snappy when he’s jealous, not directly at you but at the other person. He definitely gets a bit bitchy. Sometimes he acts that way to you so you've just gotta slap some sense into him. Say something like “what's your problem?” or “tell me what your problem is so i can help fix it.” ← that's probably the best thing to say. 

✗ afterwards he’ll just snuggle with you until he feels better. 

✗ he asks for your opinion about his songs all the time, please be honest (but also praise them if you like them lol)

✗ he takes you to niche spots he finds, like hidden concerts and stuff. Loves when you come to his gigs <3 oh and when you scream for him (in more ways than one). 

✗ dates are cute and fun. Mostly walking around together → carnivals, main street, farmers market. Those kind of things. 

✗ when it comes to pda he loves it. Loves being able to show the world who his s/o is. If you don't like it then he will tone it down and only do what you’re comfortable with. If you're also into pda then he will happily make out with you anywhere (you're one of THOSE couples 🤢 /j) 

✗ all round best boyfie <3

✗ oikawa 😳 have i told y'all how much i love him? Oikawa is the best written character, no cap, he is so complex and real it's crazy. It's so fun to write about him because you can pick him apart, you know his flaws, his weaknesses, his nightmares but also his strengths and dreams. Anywho i'll stop ranting now but i just love writing for such a perfectly imperfect character-

✗ he puts up a cocky exterior but thats all false. He's as scared as you are, he's scared that you'll leave him like his exes because of how obsessed and focused he is on volleyball. However he is a changed man, he's learned to balance his priorities. If you ever feel like you're being sidelined please communicate with him. 

✗ he values communication above all else and wants nothing more in a partner than for them to also value communication.

✗ back to the point → if you feel insecure of your relationship and that volleyball is taking too much of his attention let him know. He will change that. To an extent → he may have an important game coming up which is why he is focusing more, but he will always find time for you. 

✗ he never forgets to text you good morning and good night. He also sends you wholesome memes and makes sure you're taking care of yourself - they're like reminders for him to also take care of himself. 

✗ he is both jealous and insecure. Everyone who gets too close to you or spends a lot of time with you, he is jealous of. Jealous because he wishes he could spend more time with you but he knows he can't - not without jeopardising his volleyball career. He's also insecure, because he knows you could just leave him for a more fulfilling, more attentive, more balanced relationship. You know that too, I mean, of course you could leave him but no one would be as good as him. No one could match up to your beautifully flawed boyfriend.

✗ he is affectionate, very, very affectionate. He loves you so much. And because he spends so much time on volleyball, anytime with you he's touching you - memorizing every dint, every curve, everything about you so that he won't ever forget. 

✗ Oikawa has trouble sleeping unless he's with you, he wants to sling to you in his sleep and be grounded and remember that he is loved and cherished and appreciated y'know?

✗ pda is not an issue for him. He doesn't care what anyone else says or thinks :P in this relationship the only opinions that matter are his and your’s. Tell him you're uncomfortable with something and he won't do it, and vice versa. But otherwise, like Semi, he won't mind having a good makeout session with you in the middle of the street ;)

[wilford-winters-warfstache]

Hello!

I figured a picture would be nice! A good little token given I haven't posted in a while.

Hoooh... Now what to talk about, hey?

Let's see...

Today is the fifth anniversary of the second chapter of Who Killed Markiplier!

In a lot of ways this is very exciting! Including the fact that it was the project that really drew people into Mark's ego skits, other than Date which came out earlier that year, and really I think Kickstarted a whole side to an already wonderful Fandom!

But in a lot of ways it is also very difficult to deal with...

I made a post on our tiktok not too long ago as I'm typing this, which in short was me wishing for Fictives like myself and those who were simply just... Exceptionally emotionally affected by this (Because there are those like that! An irritatingly unpopular belief, I know.) to feel better.

I know how I'm handling this, and it certainly isn't well.

Especially since I tend to identify closer with my source (minus a few little nitpicky things that I'm divergent with.), it's hitting me exceptionally hard right now and I can only imagine it's going to feel much worse on the 13th; which is the last day, and the anniversary of.. Well... I'm certain you know if you're reading this.

So I can definitely say that if I'm not handling it well, I KNOW others aren't.

If I'm being honest, it's difficult for me to put my thoughts together to even really write this post and make it sound even moderately comprehensive.

It was even more difficult to record the video I recorded earlier! That took about ten takes, and I was rather frustrated by the end, but I made it.

I just...

There are plenty of people who are certainly going through exactly what I am, and if any of you are reading this, I want you to know that you're going to be okay.

It's going to be hard for the next couple of days, but we'll all make it through!

You're valid for feeling what you're feeling, even if you're not an alter.

Even if you were just affected badly by it.

Let yourself feel it, but... Please, try to take care of yourself whilst doing so.

Brush your teeth, take your medications, hydrate, feed yourself..

Just try to keep yourself healthy.. There is only one you after all!

.. Now.

I'm going to go put this body to bed, and hope that I feel even a bit better tomorrow, though I know logically I won't.

Take care of yourselves, friends!

I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on.

Goodnight, everyone! Sleep tight.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 26 - ao3 -

“Qiren-xiong, would you like me to keep them back a little longer?” Lan Yueheng asked anxiously. He’d been biting his lip and wringing his hands and pacing hard enough to leave a mark on the floor. Lan Qiren really ought to let him go back to his mathematics and his alchemy, to abandon this sad sorry world of politics that the rest of them were mired in for the purer joys of academic discovery. “It’s just, they’re getting really insistent on talking with you…”

Lan Qiren sighed and put down the cup of tea that had already cooled without him taking a single sip.

“No,” he finally said. “It’s fine. I’m amazed you managed to keep them back this long.”

He had been working very hard these past few days. He’d just wanted a short break. An afternoon of silence, or even just a few shichen...

Apparently, he couldn’t even get that now. 

Lan Yueheng beamed. “I got Zhang Xin to help! She’s keeping them all back – elders and teachers and fellow disciples and all.”

Lan Qiren frowned a little, thinking of the lady in question, who was fierce and fiery but definitely not fearsome or well-respected enough to hold back the teeming tide of Lan sect members desperate for Lan Qiren to stop ignoring them. “…do I want to know how?”

“With a club!”

Lan Qiren did not want to know how.

“I put explosives in the –”

“Please stop explaining,” Lan Qiren begged.

“You asked.”

Technically, Lan Qiren had asked if he wanted to know, but he shouldn’t stand on technicalities. Especially not now that he was –

He stopped that thought before completing it.

“Go out and tell them that I will not be taking any questions on my living conditions, quarters or clothing, any of the current rule modification proposals - it’s far too soon - and certainly none that are just about the current situation, and also that anyone who doesn’t have a question is not welcome,” he decided. “If there’s anyone left over, they can come inside and pose their question. If it’s not a good one, I will impose punishment on the basis of Concentrate on cultivation.”

In the end, there were only three people admitted out of the disappointed throngs of disciples outside. The first two questions were appropriate ones, being both purely administrative and critically necessary to the running of their sect; the last, however…

The disciple in question was one of the gate-guards.

He saluted. “There are visitors on the way in,” he reported. “From other sects.”

“Didn’t I already give orders that all access tokens not currently in the Cloud Recesses be revoked, and no new ones issued?” Lan Qiren asked curtly. “We are not currently accepting guests, and will not be until matters have been settled. You may inform them as much.”

The disciple hesitated.

“What is it?”

“The visitors in question…” The disciple hesitated again, and Lan Qiren frowned. “It’s Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Wen.”

Lan Qiren had been reaching for his cup of tea again, but his fingers stopped in mid-air.

“They’ve been very stubborn. Neither has agreed to go, no matter what we tell them, and they’ve been there all day, saying that they’ll stay standing at our gate until we let them in. Do – do the same orders apply to them?”

Lan Qiren looked down at his hand, frozen in midair. His fingers were trembling a little. Strain, probably; he’d had a very bad time for quite a while now, and even though he’d taken the time for it, he hadn’t actually slept properly. He’d only lain in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to absorb whatever little rest he could.

“They do,” he finally said, putting his hands back into his lap as if he could hide his misery from himself. “Dismissed.”

The last disciple left.

“Why won’t you let them in?” Lan Yueheng asked from behind him. “They’re your friends, aren’t you?”

He paused, falling silent for a brief moment.

“You could use friends right now, Qiren-xiong,” he finally said. “You really could.”

“I know,” Lan Qiren said, and felt the bitterness rise up in his throat until it almost choked him. “They are my friends, and one even more, my sworn brother. They are that, but they are not only that – they are also the sect leaders of two of the other Great Sects. Even if they don’t want to cross me or hurt me, their sect obligations must be always in the forefront of their minds, be their primary care and consideration, just as the Lan sect must be mine.”

Now, he added. Must be mine, now.

“But…”

“The sect comes first, Yueheng-xiong.” Lan Qiren was so tired that it felt like a physical ache. “It has to come first. First and foremost, above everything else. Haven’t we seen what happens if that’s not what’s done?”

Wasn’t everything they were suffering now all because his brother had put himself first, instead of the sect? He had equated his interests with the sect and in doing so harmed the sect so deeply, harmed all their family and all the rest of them, everyone that relied on them...how could Lan Qiren willfully repeat such a mistake, no matter how much he longed sometimes to do so?

“But -!”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s the wrong one,” Zhang Xin said from the door, still holding that club of hers and looking as fierce as a small angry dog. “You’re the rule expert, aren’t you? Stop thinking about your brother for a moment and focus on them. As far as I’ve always heard, the rules say that you can’t just care for the sect, you have to care for yourself, too. Or else who’d be left to care for the sect?”

Lan Qiren flinched and looked down at his hands again.

He supposed she had a point.

“Yueheng-xiong,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Go after that disciple. Tell him…tell him that they still can’t enter, but that he should pass along a message to them. Tell him to tell them…” He hesitated. “If they truly wish to remain nearby, I will be available to meet with them in Caiyi Town ten days from now.”

That should be enough time to settle everything if he really exerted himself, Lan Qiren thought. All the preparations that needed to be made before the world could find out what had happened.

“They don’t have to,” he added, bitterness curling in his gut even as he tried to make it clear that he was speaking in earnest. “If they don’t want to. I won’t be offended if they don’t.”

After all, it would be asking rather a lot, forcing them to stay outside doing nothing for such a long time. Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie: they were sect leaders both, Great Sects at their command, and not possessed of a great deal of spare time. More than that, neither of them were especially patient people in the best of times, and much less so now that they were currently at odds with each other – though perhaps the fact that they’d put up with each other’s company long enough to yell at his gate-guard suggested that their recently frozen-over relationship had perhaps at last started to thaw. 

Anyway, Lan Qiren wasn’t even doing them the courtesy of offering them accommodations within the Cloud Recesses, as anyone might reasonably expect. They’d have to stay in Caiyi Town instead, take a room at an inn like any ordinary mortal…truly, it would not be a surprise if they did not choose to stay.

It would be fine if they didn’t stay. It would be.

“I’ll pass it along,” Lan Yueheng promised, and ran out the door. Zhang Xin sniffed, but said no more. It was clear she would have preferred he do more, perhaps go and speak to them immediately, but she also knew that she’d pushed her insolence about as far as she could take it. 

She was very brave.

“You should marry him,” Lan Qiren told her, thinking to himself that someone ought to be happy even if it wasn’t him, and she blinked at him. “Yueheng-xiong. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky.”

Zhang Xin blinked again, and then flushed. “Well…”

“You like romances, don’t you? Why not take the next step on this one?”

She waved her hands at him. “We’ll get there! Don’t rush us.”

“You don’t have parents, right?” Lan Qiren pressed. “If you like, I can act for them in making the arrangements –”

“I’ll consider that,” she hissed, her face now bright red. She pointed the club at him, and Lan Qiren hastily raised his hands in surrender; he knew what Lan Yueheng’s explosives were like. “Go back to moping. I’m starting to think I liked you better that way.”

Lan Qiren didn’t think she did.

“I need more ink,” he said instead. If he was going to have to make up for all of his brother’s failings and get the Lan sect into the state it needed to in order to be ready to face the storm that awaited them outside their gates within ten days, he would need to work hard, and that meant starting now. “Please fetch some for me. I promise not to bring it up again.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but bustled off, and Lan Qiren turned to apply himself to work.

Work was – he could do the work.

As long as he didn’t have to think about why he was doing it, or how long he would need to do it, not think about how this work wouldn’t just be for now but for the rest of his life, he could do it.

It took the full ten days and several sleepless nights, interspersed with sleep borne of pure exhaustion, but in the end Lan Qiren managed to make all the preparations he thought were necessary to minimize or at least endure the loss of face that the Lan sect would subject to once the world heard of rumors of what had happened. Even with the sanitized, filtered, cleaned-up version of it that they intended to spread, it would still hurt their reputation.

“You should take several days to yourself,” his music teacher advised, looking genuinely concerned, and his swordsmanship teacher nodded in agreement. “There will be more work to come, but none so soon.”

Lan Qiren nodded, being too tired to care about them worrying about him now, and went to the gate.

“Zhu Dawei,” he called, recognizing the disciple there. It was the same one who had brought him the news, ten days back; the one he’d sent back with the message. “Was there…”

He trailed off, not sure how to ask the question without seeming overly pathetic – by chance, do you know if my sworn brother and best friend abandoned me and returned to their sects, as any reasonable person would, or did they decide to wait an unreasonably long time in order to talk to me?

Zhu Dawei saluted adroitly. “Sect Leader Wen and Sect Leader Nie said to tell you that they will be waiting for you at the inn along the main waterway in Caiyi Town, the one with the red awning. They’re planning on dining at you hour if you would like to join them.”

He had good friends, Lan Qiren thought, feeling stabbing pains of emotions in his chest that he thought might even be a good thing. He nodded. “My thanks,” he said, and headed down the mountain.

Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie were there in the inn in one of the private suites that were available for rich guests, sitting at a table laid out with all the local specialties: six different dishes and tea and wine. They were bickering over something or another – Lan Qiren didn’t strain himself to listen, only paused a little outside the door, watching them both for a moment. 

Having been forced to spend ten days’ time in close proximity had clearly been good for them: they were practically back to the way they had been before they’d fallen out, each one clearly genuinely at ease - Wen Ruohan with his smirks and his haughty sneers, Lao Nie with his booming laugh and expressive scowls. Perhaps they had even had the opportunity to actually talk to each other, to clear the air between them and make plain their respective positions, which Lan Qiren had been starting to think they never would - that Wen Ruohan would grow so resentful that he’d shut off his heart again and take Lao Nie back on the condition that he never speak of it again, and so let it fester as an unhealed wound. Lan Qiren had worried about the terrible things that might come of such lingering rage. He had not liked it, but had felt helpless to change it: after all, who on earth could force these two men to stay near to each other when they did not want to?

Him, apparently.

They looked good together, suited each other, he thought, watching them both. They were both tall and strong, fine men that exuded power and fierceness and determination in equal measure; it was a real pity that they weren’t quite the right match for each other.

Lao Nie caught sight of Lan Qiren standing at the door first. The moment he did, he turned away and rose to his feet. “Qiren! There you are – come in – sit! Sit, sit – have you eaten?”

“Earlier,” Lan Qiren said, coming in and trying to raise his hands in a salute that got quickly knocked aside. “I could eat again.”

“We insist on it,” Wen Ruohan said, looking him over with a judgmental frown. “I think you’ve gotten thinner…he’s gotten thinner, hasn’t he, Lao Nie?”

Lao Nie held Lan Qiren at arms length and looked him over critically. “Normally, Hanhan, I’d accuse you of being a mother hen and never let you live it down ever again,” he remarked, “but in this case I really think you’re right. His face is thinner than it was before, definitely a sign of losing weight too rapidly…tell us what happened, Qiren. There’s been no news at all from the Lan sect, only that there was some sort of crisis – some violence – and then all the gates to the Cloud Recesses were shut.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing at his temples. He didn’t really want to think about it, but there was no avoiding it. “They were. The full details will be announced at the next discussion conference, which is coming up rapidly.”

“It is,” Lao Nie said. “I should know; I’m hosting. Will you tell us in advance what the news is?”

“I will.”

“Food first,” Wen Ruohan interjected. “No talking during meals, remember?”

Lao Nie made a face at him, but Lan Qiren smiled thinly at his sworn brother’s poorly concealed kindness and sat down. He ate quickly, the food largely tasteless on his tongue even though it was finely made and featured many of his favorites. They must have ordered them especially, knowing that he was coming tonight.

The quiet was a welcome reprieve, and allowed him to think over what he was going to say a little more thoroughly. He’d known, of course, that he’d have to tell them, but he hadn’t yet settled on exactly how to force the words from between his teeth…

When dinner was done and the dishes cleared, the only thing left on the table being the tea and the wine, he cleared his throat. “Did you rent the room?” he asked, and they nodded. “For how long?”

“We booked the whole month,” Wen Ruohan said carelessly. “It didn’t cost as much as all that.”

Caiyi Town was the nearest town to the Cloud Recesses, which was full of very rich cultivators. The prices here were far higher than a comparable inn in another place, and were nowhere near cheap even for a night - much less a month. More than that, Lan Qiren hadn’t seen any other guests, which made him suspect that Wen Ruohan had rented not only the room but the entire inn, making it the sort of expenditure more commonly seen among the scions of Lanling Jin.

Still, Lan Qiren did not complain or point out the inaccuracy. Not when he had hoped for something exactly like that.

“Good,” he said, and reached up to his forehead ribbon.

Both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie gaped at him in stunned disbelief as he removed it, carefully folding it up like the precious thing that it was and tucking it away into his sleeve for safekeeping – even though the process took some time to accomplish, they had not yet recovered by the time he was done. They looked a bit like gawping fish.

“The forehead ribbon reminds you of your self-restraint,” Lan Qiren quoted. “I do not intend to maintain it tonight.”

More gawking. He ignored it.

“I’m intending on getting drunk,” he clarified, nodding at the jars of wine on the table. “I’ll drink as much as you allow me to. Could you keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t leave the premises? I can’t lose face for the sect right now, but both of you are considerably stronger than me, and faster, too. You can keep an eye on me and restrain my behavior, if necessary, and I would appreciate it if you would.”

“…of course,” Wen Ruohan said, exchanging glances with Lao Nie. “If that’s what you want, little Lan. We’ll care for you.”

“Can we ask why?” Lao Nie asked, always the blunt one.

Lan Qiren looked down at the table, gathered his courage, and looked back up at them. “I’m going to be attending the next discussion conference,” he said, and even he could hear how dull and depressed his already monotonous voice was. “At that time, you will need to call me Sect Leader Lan.”

“Sect - Sect Leader…? You?” Lao Nie was gaping again. “But – you –”

“What happened to Qingheng-jun?” Wen Ruohan asked, his eyes already narrowed as his mind rapidly churned over the information. 

“He has entered permanent seclusion,” Lan Qiren said. His fingers had tightened into fists again, and his knuckles were white from the strain. “Along with his wife.”

“His – wife?”

“He Kexin?” Wen Ruohan asked. “He’s married – no, she married him?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, because friends or no, brother or no, they were still sect leaders, still outsiders. He could not share with them the full story, at least not yet, not until he’d made sure they couldn’t use it against his sect. Not until there was a story that the whole world would accept as the truth. “They are married, and secluded. I am the next in line, and have therefore taken on the position.”

“But you wanted to travel,” Lao Nie said. “To play music, to go see new places. You had all those plans –”

Lan Qiren flinched.

“Be silent,” Wen Ruohan told Lao Nie. “Can’t you see you’re just making it worse? He knows.”

Yes, Lan Qiren knew. No one knew better than him the dreams he’d had, the plans he’d made, how much it had been a fixed part of his life – stronger than mere hope, it had been an expectation. He had never imagined that his life wouldn’t be what he planned to make of it.

He never imagined his life would be…like this.

“It is temporary,” he added, the rotten feeling of disappointment coating his tongue like a swallow of bitter medicine. “An examination has revealed that He Kexin is pregnant with my brother’s child. Although it is far too early for any medical indications, divination suggests that it will be a boy.”

And even if it wasn’t, well, Lan Yi had set a precedent for women to be allowed to be sect leaders, too.

The sect elders had compared the exceptional qualities of Lan Qiren’s brother against Lan Qiren’s own, compared their respective talents for cultivation and temperaments and their ways with people. That analysis complete, they had suddenly changed their tune: no more did they try to comfort Lan Qiren for his crushed dreams by painting pictures of the power he would obtain, of his children inheriting after him – as if Lan Qiren had ever cared about power, he who had never coveted the position of sect leader even once in his life, and had on account of his inclinations, or lack thereof, had already given up hope of children – and instead they spoke instead of Lan Qiren’s duty to his brother’s legitimate bloodline, his duty to the sect overall.

Lan Qiren had listened in silence for a while, barely restraining from sneering at their shallow and obvious hypocrisy, before striking a deal with them: he would take on the role of acting sect leader, as he had already known he had no choice but to do, and in time he would willingly step aside for his brother’s heir or heirs, if there was more than one, but he insisted on being the one to raise them.

He didn’t especially want to raise children, having no idea if he would be any good at it, but he didn’t trust anyone else in his sect to prioritize raising the children as children – as people of their own, rather than extensions of their father, as another chance to correct the mistakes of the past. To raise them with the rules as guidance, as support in times of weakness and pride in times of strength, not as an obstacle to be overcome; to try to do whatever he could to help them avoid the faults of the prior generation without crushing their souls the way his brother had tried to crush his.

He would give this unborn nephew or nephews everything he could. He would give them the rules, and he would protect them from them; he would spend the rest of his life exerting himself to clean up the sect until it was something worth inheriting, and then he’d give them that, too.

“Congratulations,” Lao Nie said blankly, and Wen Ruohan elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Lan Qiren chuckled humorlessly. “He’ll be only a few years younger than yours,” he said to Lao Nie. “And about of age with your second when he’s born, da-ge.”

“You don’t deserve this,” Wen Ruohan said, his mouth twisted with bitterness that for once had nothing to do with his own desires. “You deserve better.”

Lan Qiren appreciated the thought.

He appreciated them both being angry on his behalf, which they so clearly were. Lao Nie’s face had grown black with rage, his brows tight as if pulled taut with a string, and while Wen Ruohan’s face was calm and sedate as always, his qi seethed and hissed and coiled around them all as if he could keep away Lan Qiren’s duties by sheer force of will. He might even try, if it was something Lan Qiren would consider letting him do.

It wasn’t, though.

“The sect’s needs come first,” he said simply. “You both put your sects above yourselves; you know how it is. It’s the same for me.”

“You still deserve better,” Lao Nie said, and shook his head. “Hanhan’s right. You really do. I’m so sorry, Qiren. I should’ve been there to help more – shouldn’t have been so distracted –”

“Nothing could have been done to change it,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t disagree, knowing as he did how careless Lao Nie had been over it all, but if he were to blame Lao Nie, he might as well blame Wen Ruohan, who he knew for a fact did know about it and didn’t bother to try to intervene – but he didn’t want to blame his sworn brother, who had no responsibility here, and he didn’t much want to blame Lao Nie, either, even if he’d said some very stupid things from a distance. It had only ever been his brother’s fault; there was nothing else for it. “It’s…”

He trailed off, not able to say it was fine, because it wasn’t. It just wasn’t true.

Do not tell lies.

“I’ll live,” he said instead, because that was. No matter what, he had to live. His sect depended on him, his not-yet-born nephew depended on him. “I’m going to become a teacher, instead. It’ll give me something to do.”

He would have more than enough to do as the sect leader, of course, acting or otherwise, and with him just barely into his early twenties he was very young to be a teacher. But he desperately wanted something that wasn’t just the sect’s, something all his own, and he had planned on being a teacher, too. Much later in life, of course, but – it was still something.

Something of his own.

Maybe he’d push the elders for permission to have children from other sects come for lessons, just to mimic the variety of the world that he was no longer permitted to go see. Sect leaders feather their own nests with the stories of others, he’d once told Cangse Sanren, that’s a way of living, too…

He had to think of it that way. If he didn’t, he’d think instead of what she said, a caged lark singing only for a select few, and that would be worse. 

“Do you have any more questions?” he added, not wanting to think of anything at all any longer. “If not, I would very much like to get drunk on your wine, if you don’t mind.”

Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie exchanged glances again, some secret communication that Lan Qiren didn’t bother to try and fail to decipher – truly, if there was one good part to the entire disaster it was that they had overcome their distance in truth rather merely on the surface – but then Wen Ruohan nodded firmly and Lao Nie began to set out the drinking bowls.

“For once, I’m almost looking forward to hearing about your sect rules,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “As long as you just tell me about them, this time, and don’t knee me in the –”

Lan Qiren grabbed at the drinking bowl, glaring at him, and Lao Nie laughed. “Let’s see how much you can tolerate,” he said cheerfully. “The liquor here is pretty mild, so start with one bowl and tell me how you’re feeling after –”

Lan Qiren drank the bowl, grimacing a little at the taste, and remembered nothing more.

[angelicyoongie]

the crimson shell

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 1.9k — warnings: mild stalking, near drowning, mentions of eating humans — notes: just wanted to contribute something to mermay! this is also my first time attempting to do anything in the realms of yandere (and mermaids!), so pls be nice lol. in this universe everyone is referred to as a mermaid, no matter what gender they are. this will most likely be a two or three part series with jk growing more and more obsessed as he gets y/n into his scaly clutches :)

Part I / II / III / IIII

— summary: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

You inhale deeply, enjoying the salty smell that so uniquely belongs to the ocean. The last rays of sun are slowly disappearing behind the horizon, painting the skies and the waves in hues of deep pink and purple. You’re going to miss this view.

You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse sand as you let the gentle breeze caress your face. You’ve been looking forward to this for years, but now that your departure is so imminent, it feels more scary than liberating. The time has come to finally leave your home behind, and you feel a pang of regret as you realize you might not see your friends or family for a very long time to come.

Years of saving up your measly paychecks have finally paid off, and you’re setting sail for an island you’ve been hearing constant murmurs about for the last few months. Originally, you were only going to travel to the next kingdom over, hoping to find more suitable work there to help your parents stay afloat. But the talk of the mystery island abundant with riches piped your interest more than you would like to admit – and you’ve never been one to shy away from adventure.

However, you weren’t stupid enough to just blindly trust the rumours milling around your little town. In fact, you wholeheartedly believed it to be a scam until a familiar face suddenly turned up in the town square only a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t seen Jimin ever since he set sail for the unknown six months ago; and so everyone, including yourself, had presumed that your talkative neighbour had met an ill fate, and was floating at the bottom of the sea. You realized you couldn’t have been more wrong when Jimin returned with riches you never expected you would ever lay eyes on, his whole body adorned with various diamonds and gold chains.

It was Jimin who had urged you to seek out the same island, saying he barely even took a handful of all the treasures that were there. He had warned you about a price that would need to be paid, but you weren’t all that concerned. If a sea witch wanted your first born, then fine, you weren’t too keen on children anyway.

You busy yourself with drawing patterns in the sand, lost in your own thoughts as you try to remember your little mental checklist of all the things you wanted to see before you left tomorrow morning. You’re pretty sure this beach was the last one. It’s not much; just a short stretch of sand at the edge of the hill leading up to your family’s cottage, but it has always felt like home.

You come here every evening without fail, using the time to relax and breathe. The last month has felt a little different though, even if you don’t like to admit it. You’ve always stayed on the beach quite late, there’s nothing you know of that can rival the starry sky that appears once the sun had set. But lately, you’ve found yourself retreating back up the hill before the night could fully greet you.

It feels like you’re being watched.

It’s silly of course, considering the only thing in front of you is the quiet ocean. You would have noticed if there was something there, but still, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is out there – observing you.

It always happens so suddenly; one second you’ll be merely enjoying the view, and in the next, a sense of dread would knock into you so hard it left you breathless. It would make your neck feel tight, as if someone was gripping your skin, and the hair on your arms would rise in alarm.

Even just the memory is enough to give you goosebumps, and you let out an annoyed huff at how easily you seem to be able to scare yourself. You dust the sand off your hands before you rub them up and down your arms, trying to calm down the twinge of anxiety that’s slowly spreading through your body.

You don’t want to remember your last night here as something uncomfortable, so you let your gaze sweep over the beach one last time.

Something catches your eye just as you’re about to turn. Something red is ebbing and flowing along with the waves, and you hesitantly step forward until you can see it clearer. It’s nothing more than a pretty shell, but you’ve never seen that tone of red before. You snatch it up from the water before the tide can pull it out, slowly turning it back and forth to study it. The last sliver of light seems to catch on to it just right, giving the red a gorgeous golden shimmer.

You let out a low gasp of wonder, trailing your fingers along the scalloped pattern. It’s stunning, and you can’t help but think that it���s the beach’s way of saying its last goodbye. Maybe it was giving you a parting gift.

You clutch the shell gently in your hand, a soft ‘thank you’ slipping past your lips as you watch the ocean fondly. You notice a few sudden ripples in the quiet sea a little further out from the beach, but it has started to grow so dark that it’s impossible to make out anything below the soft waves. Chalking it up to just being fish, you shrug it off, finally turning on your heel to walk back up the hill to your family’s little cottage.

--

You’ve officially been on the sea for a week, and you’ve already grown tired. The small group of fellow villagers that you left with have already started getting on your nerves, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it all the way to the island and back without going insane. Jimin said you would need to travel north for about two weeks, so you try to find solace in the fact that you’re halfway there already.

The journey so far has been pretty smooth, but the dark clouds on the horizon seem to be rolling towards you at an alarming speed. You dig into the pocket of your trousers, finding comfort in running your fingers along the shell you found on your beach. You can only hope it serves as a token of good luck, because the storm heading straight for you really doesn’t look good at all.  

It feels like you only blink before the rain is pelting down against the ship, harsh waves tossing the wooden boat back and forth to its whims. You’re clinging on the side with all of your might, but the floor has turned wet and slippery, and it makes it even harder to stay on board with all the vicious tossing and turning.

You feel the electricity before it hits, the static making your hair stand up straight right before a bolt of lightning slams into the mast. You can barely hear the loud creak of wood over the screams from the other travellers, you gaze transfixed on the large wooden pole as it starts tipping.

You’re frozen in place; all of your muscles locking up in terror as you realize the mast is coming straight at you. You’ll be crushed in you don’t move, but you can’t. You close your eyes instinctively as the looming shadow rushes towards you, harshly sucking in one last breath of air. You feel the ship lurch, and your fingers slip from the bars you were clinging to as you’re tossed overboard.

A blanket of silence wraps around you the moment you hit the water, all of the screaming and creaking of wood suddenly ceasing as the cold liquid mercilessly drags you downwards. You can see the shadow of the ship growing smaller and smaller, your last breath escaping you as it bubbles up towards the surface.

You flail your hands desperately, your body too low on air to properly function. Swim, swim, swim! Your mind is screaming, but your heart has already accepted the rush of water filling your lungs, and the heavy feeling in your bones.

Your vision grows hazy, the blues and greys of the ocean blurring together. A streak of red suddenly breezes by your line of sight, but your tired brain only managing to provide you with the fleeting thought of fish? before the exhaustion truly sets in. You can hear a low series of muddled clicking noises all around you, but it only seems to make you even more drowsy.

Sleep, a deep voice whispers in the back of your mind. And slowly but surely, all of the mixed colours fade into nothingness.

--

It wasn’t that hard for the mermaid to steer your ship in the wrong direction. The ship was in his waters, under his control, and the storm that suddenly picked up in the northeast presented itself like the perfect opportunity.

He had been trailing after your ship ever since it left the dock, making sure he could strike at the right moment. He couldn’t believe the weird creature he had been watching for months was finally coming willingly to him, but it was only right considering you had accepted his courting gift.

And now, as you were sinking to the bottom of the sea, you were finally his. The mermaid circled you excitedly at a distance as your limbs flailed around underwater. He tried to tell you to calm down – that the fight against his ocean was futile – but you just wouldn’t stop trying.

The mermaid bristled in annoyance, his crimson tail cutting through the sea harshly as he watched the stupid creature fight a losing battle. He needed to take it home now, before his brothers could realize it was here.

Finally, your body stopped moving. The mermaid quickly closed in, strong arms wrapping around your torso as he stared into your unfocused eyes. While he didn’t exactly know what you were, and why you had one limb too many, he had at least gathered enough information to understand that you needed to breathe in that pesky air in order to survive.

He pushed up, letting the currents easily carry him up towards the surface. Of course, he made sure to emerge far from the sinking ship. While the gurgling screams usually were music to his ears – he couldn’t keep you too close to the food. His brothers would be here in no time to feast, and he couldn’t let his new pet be swallowed up before he even had a chance to play with it.

The creature sucked in a shuddering breath as oxygen finally flowed through its veins again. It didn’t take long before all his precious water was being expelled from the creature’s lungs, the mermaid watching in displeasure as it was replaced with that wretched air instead. It just seemed so .. inconvenient.

You didn’t wake however, the near drowning having swept away all of your energy. The mermaid threw one last look towards the remains of the ship, thin lips curling into a pout as the gurgling was replaced by bloody shrieks. He was hungry too, but it seemed like it would have to wait until his pet was out of harm’s way.

Well, at least until it was out of his brothers’ way. The mermaid didn’t like making promises he wasn’t certain he could keep.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 12*

Ayyyyy I fixed it!

For those who missed it, I wrote this chapter also on my phone because apparently I'm addicted to this story I can't focus on my real life even when I'm out.

Also sorry this is short but it was written in a Target parking lot on my phone. And also-- I just wanna put off "THE" part. 😂😬😘

Part 11

Part 13

Tag list

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

-----

Rafael shook his head, still reeling from your encounter. You had no idea what the hell you were talking about, he loved Olivia. He was sure of it. But the last thing you said nagged at him. Even if you had been some kind of crazy mind reading witch, that didn’t stop him from telling Liv about his father.

He had never told her, and if he was really honest with himself, he had no intention of telling her any time soon, maybe ever.

Why didn’t he want to tell her?

-----

Rafael decided to show you, he went straight to Liv's bridal room and knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

"Liv it's me."

"Rafa we can't see each other before the ceremony! It's bad luck!" She called through the door.

"Well it's more bad luck if we start this marriage with secrets." He replied.

Olivia's eyes widened: was he...was he going to tell her his middle name? All on his own? She KNEW you were full of shit

"O-okay just tell me through the door." Her eyes lit up with hope.

"No, I need to be looking at you or I might lose my nerve"

That was good enough for her! She swung the door open.

Rafael stared at her in awe, she had never looked so beautiful in all the years he knew her. He knew you were full of shit, he loved her completely.

"Liv I haven't been honest with you. My middle name isn't Antonio."

"It's not…?" Her eyes began to well up. It was happening. It was really happening.

"No, it's…." He paused and gazed at her. She was beautiful, she was perfect.... But there was no...safety.

"It's Ronaldo," he lied. "I just wanted you to have the right name on the marriage license"

"God damn it Rafael are you fucking kidding me? She yelled.

"What are you talking about?" Rafael was taken aback.

"Why can't you just tell me your real middle name? Why is that so hard for you?!" She yelled again..

"I'm sorry, you know that I'm lying? You know my real middle name?"

"What.. ? Yes...maybe, I don't know," she stammered.

"How do you know my middle name?" He asked.

" I, um...did...did you finish the flask I gave you?" She asked softly.

"....Excuse me?" Rafael asked suspiciously. He turned and walked back to his room. Olivia followed behind him quickly.

"You mean this flask that you supposedly gave me for our wedding day?" He asked, holding up a silver flask with his initials on it.

"You mean this nice loving gift, a token of your love on the most important day of our lives? You're asking me if I 'finished this'?"

"I.. well…" she stuttered.

"And what exactly is this Olivia?" He turned and headed to the bathroom of the groom suite.

"No Rafael, don't!!!" Olivia chase after him frantically.

Rafael opened the flask and poured its contests into the sink. To his horror and disbelief, a dark purple liquid poured out of it; as if it was purple and blue mixed together.

"Holy shit…" Rafael muttered.

"Oh my God!" he just stared in shock as the liquid dissipated down the drain. Olivia could only stand frozen in shock and couldn't speak.

"Oh my God, that girl was right wasn't she?" He stared at her.

"What girl? Was there a girl here?" Olivia quickly turned defensive. "Rafa you shouldn't listen to random ass people--"

"Oh no, fuck that Liv!" He screamed. Throwing the flask across the bathroom.

"What the hell was that?!" He gestured to the sink, now empty of the contents of the flask. "What the hell did you do to me?!

"Nothing!" She stuck to her denial. "It's just the color of the special liquor that I bought you. It's some kind of wine," She tried to think of a lie on the spot, but she wasn't great at it.

"Oh that is a load of shit!" Rafael scoffed while throwing up his hands. "I can't believe this...I can't believe some random ass girl knew more about me than you. She's right isn't she?"

"Rafa come on--" She started to speak, but Rafael wasn't hearing it.

"Oh no fuck that, fuck 'Rafa'. We're past Rafa, don't call me that!" Rafael screamed. "That girl was right, wasn't she? You made me forget her. I'm actually in love with her, aren't I?"

"No! You were never in love with her! That shit was fake. It was as fake as this!" She slapped her hand over her face after saying the last part inadvertently.

"Oh my God...This whole thing is fake. You manipulated my mind. You made me think that I was in love with you!" Rafael felt sick to his stomach.

"You are in love with me!" Olivia screamed. "You just needed to realize it," she added softly.

"And you wanted me to drink more so what? You could make me forget this ever happened so that I would marry you willingly? Like your little robot?" Rafael paced the room angrily.

"No I love you Rafael! That's why I did this! I did this for us!" She was crying now.

"That's BULLSHIT!" Rafael yelled.

"You didn't do this for me, you did this for you. You don't love me at all! If you really loved me, then you would want me to be happy no matter who that was with! I'm not your fucking Ken doll Liv! I'm not some guy you can just manipulate and tote around like some lap dog, doing whatever you say. That's not what love is!"

"Rafael come on, just look--- just, just drink this," she pulled out another vial from her bra. "Just drink it and you'll forget about this, and then we can be happy!"

"Are you not hearing me at all Olivia? Rafael asked her in actual disgust.

"You're still just trying to stick to your delusion? Don't come near me with that. In fact don't come near me at all. I can't. I can't even look at you right now," He started to storm out of the room but Olivia chased after him.

"Where are you going!?!"

"To get back what you stole from me!" Rafael yelled back, running out of the church.

----

You stood there in front of the penguins with Maria and Chloe just staring at them. It had gotten dark now. The tank was lit up, brightening the cave with its neon blue water. They looked so happy, just swimming and carefree, not a care in the world.

"Look at you guys," You sighed. "So happy, so innocent. You wouldn't lie to each other, you wouldn't manipulate each other, you just love each other unconditionally," You started to tear up.

"Oh honey…" Chloe came and put an arm around you.

"He's not coming, is he?" You looked at her with tears now dripping down your face.

She looked down at her watch; it had been about an hour since you had shown up there. That was about 20 minutes from the church. So it had been a while for Rafael to change his mind.

"I mean... I don't want to be Debbie Downer or anything but--" She have you a pity look.

"30 more minutes?" You pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

"Alright…." She looked at Maria who just shrugged sadly. Then she linked an arm in yours, laying her head on shoulder. "As long as you need."

------

Rafael was in an Uber, heading towards Central Park. He couldn't decide how he felt at the moment. He was enraged with Olivia for fucking with his emotions, his brain, his heart. How long has it gone on for?

Now that it had been a while since his last "dose", he was starting to realize he couldn't remember yesterday, or any of the past week, and it scared the shit out of him.

How could she do this? How could she just take memories from him like taking cookies out of a cookie jar? And with absolutely NO remorse? She was STILL trying to control him even when he was confronting her! Did she ever really love him? Were they ever really friends? It was like losing a lover and his best friend in one fell swoop.

And then there was you. Maybe you really had been Liv-- his lover and best friend. But she had taken that too, he had no memory of you whatsoever.

Even now he struggled to even remember your name. He was pretty sure you had said it in his dressing room, but all the shit he had in his system still left him all foggy. He did remember you knew his middle name, his Broadway dream.

You knew about Eduardo, how could he have told you about Eduardo? How important were you to him? How could he just forget that? He wanted that back, that safe feeling you were going on about. You were absolutely on the money about him never feeling safe once his Abuela had moved in with him and his mother. His mother's house never felt safe, even after Eduardo left.

His Mami was wonderful, but he never felt like he could ever fully be himself with her, because she wouldn't accept him. Which is why he never felt comfortable sharing himself completely, ever.

He wanted that safe feeling so badly….he wanted his feelings back so badly. Even if they were someone he supposedly didn't know.

"Uh….hey man are you ok? The Uber driver's question made him realize he was crying. The driver was awkwardly glancing back at him.

"Ahem...yeah no I'm fine. Can we uh...can we go any faster?"

"Hey man I can't control New York traffic," he gestured towards the stand still grid of cars.

He was still 5 blocks away. He wasn't entirely sure just how in love with him you were, though you were pretty damn hysterical at the church.

Would you wait all night? Have you already left?

"You know what, I think I can walk faster than this," Rafael told the driver as he got out on the curb and began running towards the park.

"....Don't forget to rate me five stars!!!" The driver called after him.

----

You glanced down at your phone, it had been 45 minutes since you had asked Chloe for 30. Maria was asleep on a bench, Chloe was falling asleep on your shoulder.

He wasn't coming. Olivia had won. You had to accept it.

You put your phone down and walked up to the glass of the penguin tank. They were all sleeping, except for one. They all were wearing these adorable harnesses that had their name on them, hers read "Penny".

Penny was sitting on a rock above the water, just staring at the "shore" of their enclosure.

You wondered if there was any explanation for that-- you googled "PENNY PENGUIN CENTRAL PARK ZOO". An article immediately came up. You scanned it, reading a particular sentence.

"....Penny's mate was killed in an accident at the zoo six months ago. Penguins are notoriously monogamous, so it's likely she won't ever take another mate. She just spends her night and days looking towards the place the Zookeeper's took Leonard from the enclosure."

Your heart broke, tears came to your eyes for the millionth time that day as you pressed a hand to the glass.

"I'm right there with you Penny, I know how you feel babe…" You sniffled as if the penguin could understand you. But she still continued to stare, waiting for her love to come back.

You wiped tears away and walked away from the tank over to Chloe and Maria, shaking her awake.

"Let's go," you sniffled.

"You sure honey?" She asked you as Maria stirred awake.

"Yeah…. it's over," you sniffled again, all out of water in your body.

She let you lean on her as you walked back up the stairs to the park.

You were so downtrodden, you didn't notice you had left your phone sitting in the enclosure.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

august

Summary: August slips away and their summer fling is going to have to end.

Notes: it’s my birthday!! To celebrate here is the august story of my folklore series

AO3

For most people, all roads lead to Rome but for one Kurt Hummel, all roads lead to the mall.

First stop: coffee.

Once Kurt had secured his iced mocha, he began his window shopping. It was just so nice to walk around the air-conditioned mall.

There were plenty of middle and high schoolers wandering around with their friends. Enjoying the freedom of summertime. Kurt was pretty happy to be able to spend his summer days at the mall; almost like a relaxing vacation if it weren’t for the fear of running into old bullies and homophobes.

His dad just wanted Kurt to work a few days a week at the garage when the staff was short but with Finn there full-time, Kurt was barely needed. So, he spent his days off running errands and wandering around the Lima Mall.

There was no way for him to get lost at the mall. One, he had become very familiar with the mall having spent many weekends with his girls from glee club here. And two, it wasn’t a very large place.

Eventually, Kurt decided to splurge by getting a cinnamon pretzel and found a bench to rest. It wasn’t long until a curly-haired boy took a seat at the other end.

Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say hello or not. They were likely the same age. Close in age and cute. While he was debating whether or not to engage with this boy, he made the first move.

“I’m Blaine.”

He’s now facing Kurt.

“Kurt.”

They smile at each other. Kurt can feel his face getting warm.

“You here alone?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, you?”

Blaine nods. “Wanna walk together?”

Kurt holds up his half-eaten pretzel.

“Oh,” Blaine says, “that’s okay. I can just…”

Blaine moves to stand up and leave.

“No!”

It comes out louder than intended but it stops Blaine.

“I can walk and eat.”

****

They took road trips together and talked about everything except school. It was so refreshing to have something in common with another human besides McKinley High.

Blaine never said he was from Lima; Kurt suspected he wasn’t since he hadn’t seen him at school. Though, it was possible Blaine went to some private school outside of Lima. At one point, Kurt thought he might have to transfer if the bullying got too intense.

Honestly, it was just nice to have someone who understood him like Blaine did. They had so much in common from singing and acting to taste in Broadway musicals to the same favorite hate-watching shows. The only thing they seemed to disagree on was coffee.

Blaine had a strong opinion about drinking black drip coffee with a dash of cinnamon. Whereas, Kurt always got a nonfat mocha. However, they did agree hot chocolate was the superior wintertime drink to eggnog.

Blaine was willing to compromise in ways Rachel Berry never would.

So, it was no surprise to Kurt when he realized his feelings for Blaine.

Once again, Kurt Hummel was falling for a boy who wouldn’t like him back. This time it would hurt more because Blaine could like him, since he was also gay, but didn’t. Because who could love a boy like Kurt.

****

One day they were sharing a pretzel in Blaine’s car parked behind the mall as they typically did.

“Here,” he says, handing over the last piece.

Mid-chew, Blaine almost caused Kurt to choke.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kurt swallowed.

He must’ve been blushing because his face felt hot. Blaine clearly read the look on Kurt’s face as his answer and leaned forward over the center console.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that Blaine’s lips were dusted with cinnamon sugar. He swept his tongue over Blaine’s bottom lip gathering the flakes before painting Blaine’s tongue with cinnamon.

It was an intense first kiss to say the least. Kurt had always pictured a short peck as his very first but this was better. This kiss was just a few steps away from making out.

As the weeks of summer trickled by, Blaine and Kurt spent their days texting and meeting up to make out behind the mall. They’d climb into the backseat of one of their cars and for the next hour touch any skin available. If summer was good for one thing it was exposed skin.

Blaine often wore tank tops so Kurt became very familiar with the muscle tone of his arms.

Oftentimes, Blaine was the one reaching out first. Kurt found himself waiting by the phone for a text; careful to not have permanent plans in case Blaine called. He’d canceled anything to spend time with Blaine. As far as Kurt knew they only had this summer and now it was August. How many more days would he get with Blaine?

****

One late night in August, they went stargazing. Blaine had spread blankets and pillows on the hillside and managed to secure a cheap bottle of wine courtesy of his older brother. As it turns out, Blaine didn’t know much about constellations; luckily, Kurt did.

He spent loads of nights with his mom in the backyard. She told him so many myths of the sky.

Kurt shared some with Blaine, who had interlaced their fingers. Eventually their bodies were fully pressed together. Blaine was hovering over Kurt, placing kisses along his neck.

Kurt bent his head back to give Blaine more room to cover with his lips.

Then, shirts were riding up and removed. Blaine was playing with Kurt’s zipper.

“Can I?” He asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“I’ve never done this before,” Blaine whispers.

“Me neither.”

For two boys who have never had sex and weren’t necessarily prepared to that night, it was always going to be a little sloppy. Misplaced hands, teeth clinking against each other, and nervously checking if something was okay.

When it was over, Kurt pulled a blanket to cover them. Blaine was resting his head in between Kurt’s head and shoulder breathing him in.

“I could fall asleep so easily,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt agreed with him but he was seriously contemplating a different kind of falling.

****

Summer had to come to an end. Before Kurt realized it, he was laying out an outfit for the first day of school. He and Blaine never did have a conversation about what was going to happen to them after summer vacation. In fact, Kurt hadn’t heard from Blaine in a few days.

He texted but went to bed without a reply.

Meanwhile, Blaine was wide awake in his own bed. He stared at the unopened text from Kurt on his phone. He could text back but he didn’t know what to say.

Sorry, I’m moving schools tomorrow.

Sorry, I lied to you all summer.

Sorry, I’m not the person you think I am.

Every single message his brain could conjure up began with an apology.

In the end, Blaine ran out of time to text him back. From a restless sleep to breakfast to rushing to get to his new school on time, he was almost able to believe Kurt hadn’t texted him at all.

As Blaine introduced himself for the first time, his eyes caught sight of people passing the door; stranglers being tardy to their first class of the day. Every person in his peripheral vision made his insides jump. They all looked like Kurt.

Except, Kurt wasn’t here. Kurt could never be here. Whatever he and Blaine had over the summer was just that—a summer thing

Blaine never thought of himself as the type for flings but Kurt was different. He’d take any time he could have with him. If three months was all he had then that was okay. He knew this last summer would stick with him for a long time.

When he closed his eyes, he was staring at Kurt’s blue ones. He could feel Kurt’s fingers dancing along his naked back with the stars watching them.

Luckily, the classes seemed to be taking it easy on the students. Going over the class schedules, future projects, and what percentage of their grade was exams and quizzes. Of course, Blaine played plenty of those ice breakers and get-to-know-you exercises.

He loved those.

By the time lunch rolled around, Blaine even had someone to sit with in the cafeteria. A nice girl named Tina sat near him in history and offered him a spot at her normal table. Blaine had mentioned wanting to join the glee club and she bounced up to him after class.

“New Directions always needs members. Sit with us at lunch and we can give you pointers for your audition.”

He met Mike, Tina’s boyfriend, Quinn, head cheerleader, and Mercedes, second lead female soloist of glee. Rachel Berry soon joined the table and sized Blaine up. She had lots of questions about his range, experience, and if he was a spy. Her boyfriend, Finn, seemed suspicious of Blaine as well. Blaine was familiar with Finn’s concerns.

The pointed glares and scowl were markers of a jealous boyfriend. Finn wasn’t worried about Blaine becoming first male lead, he didn’t want Blaine to pursue a relationship with Rachel.

This was not the first time Blaine was being mistaken for your token straight guy.

The table just kept growing. People pushing tables together and pulling empty seats. A Mohawk boy called Puck was asking Blaine about sports he liked (mainly college football) when two more cheerleaders joined them.

Brittany, the blonde, was intrigued by a new student. She had some record to keep up and asked if he wanted to sneak off somewhere to help her with it. He declined. The other, Santana, was too busy waving to someone in the distance to really notice Blaine at all.

“Porcelain, finally,” Santana says, patting the seat beside her. “Meet New Kid.”

“It’s Blaine actually,” Rachel corrected.

The boy, Porcelain, sat down and looked over at Blaine. Their eyes met and instantly widened.

“I’m Kurt,” he says.

“Hi, Kurt.” Blaine watched the boy of his dreams swallow hard. “Blaine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lunch continued and no one seemed the wiser. Why would the New Directions assume the New Kid in town had already met their beloved Kurt Hummel? No one's first instinct would be that these two boys shyly watching each other would be “they spent the summer hooking up behind the mall.” Well, technically making out at the mall and hooking up in the park, just that one night.

Blaine tried to participate in conversation so as to not raise suspicion that he was staring at Kurt’s lips, which he was completely guilty of.

Once the glee kids started talking about a disaster of a party Rachel once threw, Blaine is able to tune them out in favor of his summer memories.

Sitting in the dark movie theater and bumping hands with Kurt as they reached for popcorn at the same time. Reaching over, buttered fingers and all, to grab for Kurt’s hand. Being able to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s smile as the movie flashed in front of them.

Lost in his daydream, Blaine didn’t hear the bell ring until Kurt tapped his hand, which was stretched out almost in the middle of the table.

“Hey, time to get to class,” Kurt tells him, “walk with me?”

“Okay.” Blaine gathered his books and trash.

“Where to?” Kurt asks.

“Crafts actually.”

“Oh, that’s just down the hall here.” Kurt guides them through the crowds. “Thanks for not spilling everything to them today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our summer together.” Kurt’s blushing. “It was special.”

“To me too,” Blaine assures. “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I don’t really know those guys yet. I’m new remember?”

Kurt nods. “Not new to me though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Blaine chuckles.

They reach Blaine’s art classroom.

“I’ll see you in glee club,” Kurt says.

“Okay.”

Blaine only lets Kurt take a few steps before he’s touching his hand. “Wait.”

Kurt is staring at their joined hands and examining the hallway before meeting Blaine’s eyes. No one else is paying them any attention.

There are so many words Blaine wants to say to Kurt.

Be with me. Please. Be mine.

Don’t leave. Don’t slip away.

Stay, stay, stay.

Instead, he steps closer to Kurt and cups his face with his other hand. Kurt leans into the touch. Blaine gives the hallway one last look but it’s almost empty. The late bell will ring soon so he can’t waste any more time.

Blaine leans forward and pecks Kurt.

“Please,” he murmurs, against his lips.

Not even sure what he’s asking Kurt for exactly. Kurt seems to know what he means without needing more information or clearer words than a simple ‘please.’

Kurt drops Blaine’s hand and pulls their bodies close together and opens Blaine’s mouth with his tongue.

There’s a bell ringing, which Blaine thinks must be his own form of fireworks.

“If you two are quite done, there’s a class happening,” Blaine’s crafts teacher tells them.

They pull apart instantly, red in the face from being scolded, Kurt hurries off to his own class. Blaine does another round of introductions and can’t remember anyone’s name but Kurt Hummel.

[jaskiersvalley]

Hello. Your writing is very capturing. I spent last night on reading all your stuff and here I am, in your ask box. Especially the illiterate!Geralt is a good read. I saw a few hc about the witchers being unsettled by Jaskier being well... Jaskier and with no fear approach them and talk to them. After a while they started wondering if Jaskier is a human, but they can't smell magic on him. What he really is? How he managed to fool a witcher?

Welcome to my ask box Nonnie, it is a delight to have you here! Even better, you bring a prompt that has my little heart singing because writing about Jaskier and all the witchers is something I am rapidly falling in love with. So thank you, you have truly made my day.

While the continent was big, it was still rather limited in terms of numbers of contracts. So it was only natural that from time to time Geralt bumped into a fellow witcher. Sometimes he got there first, other times there was only a drink at a tavern to be had and maybe some quiet company if it was a fellow wolf he encountered. The perk of having Jaskier alongside him was that even if he missed out on a contract, Jaskier could earn their keep and food if coin was short. So there was no longer a vicious competition between him and other witchers which was such a nice change of pace. There was no worry that if he got to a contract late, he would have to spend the next however many nights in the woods and hunting for food because he couldn’t afford a meal at a tavern.

Sometimes Geralt would still be in the stable with Roach while Jaskier went ahead to get them a room and some food. Which was how Geralt walked into the inn and frowned when Jaskier wasn’t visible at the bar. Looking around, he wasn’t too difficult to spot, sitting opposite...Eskel?! Pleasant surprise flooded Geralt at the sight of a fellow wolf and he walked over. Already, Jaskier seemed to have made a new friend in the form of the other witcher and was chattering away, demanding details from a fight. He even looked horrified when he spotted the bloody bandage peeking out from under Eskel’s sleeve.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier was reaching for Eskel’s arm without any hesitation and Geralt saw the surprise from the other witcher. Hell, he could even smell the suspicion and confusion coming off him.

“Maybe this would be better done in a room than where people might be trying to enjoy some food,” Geralt suggested. “Not everyone can eat after seeing a bloody arm.”

“Yes! Have a bath called up for us, would you?” Jaskier looked at Geralt with a smile before turning back to Eskel and guiding him up atairs. “And don’t forget to have dinner brought up too!”

By the time Geralt got to the room, Jaskier had gently bullied Eskel into showing the wyvern bite to him and was fussing over it. Above Jaskier’s head, Eskel sought out Geralt’s gaze with confusion.

Later that night, Geralt had a rather interesting conversation with Eskel, mostly consisting of “he doesn’t even smell of fear” to which the only reply was “he never did”.

They parted ways and Jaskier made sure Eskel had plenty of supplies and coin, sharing what he could of his own despite protestations.

Funnily enough, Lambert was next. Once again, Geralt had been preoccupied, this time he was sharpening his swords when the music died down sooner than expected. However, there was no sound of fighting or arguing so obviously Jaskier hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. Yet. When he didn’t go upstairs to their room, Geralt decided to venture down to make sure nothing untoward was happening. Like that time Jaskier had convinced the whole tavern to play some kind of strip card game that Geralt still didn’t understand and, quite frankly, didn’t really want to either.

The sight that greeted Geralt was both better and worse than anything he could have anticipated. Jaskier was in the corner, sitting at a table and opposite him was Lambert. Who was pressed up against the wall like a cornered cat and staring at Jaskier in horror and disgust while the bard talked his ear off. He seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact Lambert looked ready to bolt.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted and there was a visible drop in anxieties.

“Geralt. This is-”

“Jaskier, I know. He’s with me.” Turning to Jaskier, Geralt pulled his coin pouch out. “Charm the barkeep into three strong ales, would you?”

As soon as Jaskier was away from the table, Lambert was leaning closer.

“What the hell is wrong with him? He just walked up to the table, sat down and started talking! He does realise we’re witchers, right?” He gestured towards Jaskier’s back. Geralt’s sigh of “yes” didn’t seem to help. Lambert ranted on. “I can do monsters, creatures and spirits. But whatever that is, it’s not human and it scares the shit out of me. Not even an whiff of fear or hesitation.”

“It’s just Jaskier. He’s friendly.” Geralt shrugged. He’d been there, the confusion and distrust at the absolute lack of any negative reaction from Jaskier. But he’d grown used to it.

“You keep the contract, I’m skipping out.” Lambert made to move and got almost to the door when Jaskier got back to the table and called his name. Like a dog caught stealing a sausage, Lambert slunk back sheepishly. At least he got ale out of it even if he had to sit through the most terrifying conversation of his life. Jaskier could talk, he’d give him that.

By morning, Lambert was gone and Jaskier pouted at the fact he couldn’t bid farewell to his newest friend properly.

Last but not least was Vesemir who they encountered on a dusty road between nameless towns.

“I’ve heard of you,” he told Jaskier who had been prancing around as he played his newest song. It had been stuck in his head for days, taking shape and now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Alas I have not been granted similar privileges. Please forgive me, darling grey wolf. I am ignorant not through lack of interest but rather lack of sources.” Jaskier cast Geralt a side glance.

He was treated to a long, hard look by Vesemir who also took a subtle sniff of the air as he took a step closer to Jaskier. “They were right.”

Who the mysterious “they” were and what they were right about was a mystery to Jaskier but he wasn’t going to get answers because Vesemir nodded at them. “See you for the winter.”

As he turned to continue his path, Jaskier shouted after him.��“Just a small token for our brief yet passionate meeting!” With that, he presented Vesemir a handkerchief in a flourish. Once again, the old witcher’s eyes drifted to Geralt before taking the offering, tucking it into his armour and turning with a nod.

“So, where are we going for winter?” Jaskier asked, hopping a lttle to catch back up with Geralt.

Kaer Morhen. That was the answer and Jaskier excitedly bustled through the doors. He and Geralt got set up in a room before making their way down to the others.

“Friends!” Jaskier yelled, arms in the air as he took in the three familiar witchers. “It is so good to see you again.”

He went around to hug all the witchers to varying degrees of success. While Eskel returned the hug with a small, entertained smile, Lambert was doing his best impression of a terrified statue. For his part, Vesemir accepted the hug but wasn’t too enthused by it.

Witchers didn’t need to sleep a lot so it wasn’t all that unusual for them to gather around a fire and talk late into the night. At first, Jaskier had tried to keep up but he needed sleep and often ended up fast asleep in Geralt’s lap while the others talked.

“I’ve never met anyone like him.” Eskel nodded towards Jaskier’s sleeping form.

“Not natural,” Lambert added. He had been doing his best to keep out the way as much as possible.

Even Vesemir weighed in, “He’s certainly a rarity. There’s no magic around him. No stench of enchantment or even the scent of a beast.”

“He’s plain old human,” Geralt said. “And just seems to have no concept of self-preservation around others. But trust me, he does feel fear.”

Which was how they ended up trying to find out what did elicit a response from Jaskier. Lambert’s idea of drinking a potion and wandering around with black eyes and veins backfired somewhat when Jaskier got ready to trek out with him to the fight he was no doubt preparing for.

Inviting Jaskier to train and spar hadn’t worked out either. No matter how much Eskel threw him around, disarmed him in more and more brutal ways and held swords to his throat, not once did Jaskier ever smell anything but tired.

Nobody was prepared for the ear splitting shriek one morning. It was definitely Jaskier but he hit a pitch even Geralt was stunned by. They all went rushing to the bathroom  to see what had happened. Bursting in, Jaskier was standing in the tub, suds sliding off his head and clutching a cloth to himself while Vesemir looked just as stunned, holding a basket of laundry.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

“I was merely here to hang up some clean clothes,” Vesemir replied.

“There I was,” Jaskier’s voice was still breathy with fright, “taking a nice bath and washing. Only to turn around and he was there. I’m putting a bell on you!”

The air was sour with his calming fear and, oddly, it seemed to settle the witchers. No longer was Jaskier some ethereal being without a single thing in the world that could scare him. From then on, both Lambert and Eskel seemed to take great delight in sneaking up on Jaskier and trying to scare him. There was something so soothing about knowing Jaskier could still be frightened to the point of outraged screeching. Especially when he cottoned on to the game and, once he was over the initial panic, he chased after the culprit until he could jump on their backs, smacking them playfully over the head until Geralt prised him off.

Even Lambert seemed a little more comfortable now that he knew Jaskier wasn’t infallible. By the end of winter, he was unofficially crowned winner of scaring Jaskier the most. Not that it was ever a race between him and Eskel. They absolutely didn’t have a tally hidden in the library with bonus points awarded for exceptionally memorable screams.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

Ch17: Welcome to Miami

 Chapter Summary: Frank, Fliss and the Circle Of Truth take a Road Trip….

 Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) No under 18s!!! 

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 16

 June 2018

“How’s Fliss?” Gregg asked as Frank leaned back in his chair, hand curled round his bottle of beer.

Frank looked at his friend and took a deep breath “She says she’s ok. I think it’s the waiting that’s the worst. Knowing the board’s been held is one thing, not knowing the outcome….” “I know it’s hard and easy for me to say this but…well, even if he gets out he won’t be allowed anywhere near her. As I explained to her likely hood is he’ll be tagged and on a curfew and movements restricted to the state of Mass.” Gregg took a sip of his drink “And if it isn’t done automatically, through the appeal process I can file for further restrictions as well around him contacting her in any way, shape or form…but I’d be surprised if that isn’t a condition.”

“I know.” Frank said, “And she gets that…I think it’s more anger about the whole thing now you know?” “It sucks.” Gregg nodded “He spent so long abusing her and he’s still managing to do it in a way through all this.” Frank raised his eyebrows and took a drink of his beer, nodding to Jake and Simon as they approached their table.

 “I know I don’t need to ask but…” Frank started but Gregg raised a hand. 

“You’re right, you don’t.” he understood immediately that Frank was asking him to keep quiet, and he nodded as their two friends arrived at the table. After the greetings they all settled down reaching for a beer from the bucket that sat in the middle of them all, the conversation easy. Frank was happy to see the boys, he hadn’t in a few weeks so he’d grabbed the opportunity for a few beers happily, Fliss and Mary practically shoving him out of the door as they had some girly night in planned with Roberta consisting of popcorn, pizza, facemasks and a Marvel DVD, Fliss and Roberta assuring him whole heartedly they were watching it because it was a good film and not merely to perve on Chris Hemsworth or Evans or whoever the hell the Chris was in this particular one.

Whatever, sweetheart.

 “So…” Simon said, looking around the table “Are we still on for a weekend somewhere? 22nd to 24th June?”

 They all made noises, and Frank nodded. “Schedules cleared, baby sitter lined up…we just need to decide where we’re going.”

 “Well, I got something to suggest to y’all…” Jake grinned “Greg already knows about this, but basically, the Company we’re doing the promotional work for has offered us up to 10 each for the Miami Rocks Concert which runs that weekend....so if you’re interested.”

 “Rock music?” Simon looked at him, and Jake shook his head.

“Not just rock.” he said, leaning forward “It’s a combination of tribute acts and the real deal…and there’s different stages each with a different genre, and the main stage which contains the big acts.” “Ok, I’m interested…” Frank leaned forward.

 “So the Friday night is a rewind to the 70s, 80s and 90s… headlined by none other than Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, Mr Will Smith himself…” Frank let out a snort and looked at Simon who had started bopping in his seat, clicking his fingers.

 “That finishes about midnight and then Saturday is the big one. You got 5 Seconds of Summer, George Ezra and Liam Gallagher from Oasis headlining that night.” Jake continued “The other stages rage from all sorts. Mo-Town, Indie, Chart, Reggae…and then there’s a party after which continues until early hours, run by Hot Dub Time Machine.”

“Shut the front door!” Simon snorted “Hot Dub?”

Jake nodded.

“Dude I saw him one New Year’s Eve in New York a few years ago.” Simon said “He was brilliant!”

Frank sat and listened as his friends started to discuss the concert in more detail. He had to admit, it sounded like a pretty good idea, and just the distraction Fliss could do with.

 “Hate to be the voice of logic…” Simon said. “But if it’s only like three weeks off, wont’ we have trouble getting hotel rooms?”

“Fuck that, I’ll sleep on the back of the truck.” Frank said, causing the rest of them to laugh. “No need Frankie-boi, I got a client who works for the Hyatt Group man.” Jake shook his head “Three rooms already reserved out in the Regency, about 10 minutes’ walk if that from Bayfront Park where the concert is…just in case you fancied it. $100 a room for 2 nights, including a late checkout on the Sunday coz, well, we’re gonna need it.”

 “Three?” Frank frowned.

 “You and Fliss, Simon and Bonnie, and Me and Greg…” “What about Zara and Lisa?” he frowned “I thought this was a couple’s thing, not a boys weekend away…” 

“Well it was going to be…” Greg shrugged “But Zara’s away with the kids that weekend, decided to go back to California as her sister is being taken in for a C-section, and of course she has to be there…”

“And it’s Lisa’s idea of hell…” Jake supplied.

 “So why don’t we re-arrange?” Simon asked.

“Fuck that!” Jake snorted “I’m got a child and fiancée free pass for the weekend.” “Amen brother!” Gregg hi-fived him.

 “But you two can bring your girls, no problem…they’re cool” Jake gestured between Frank and Simon with his beer bottle. “Thanks for your permission…” Frank raised an eyebrow. 

****

Naturally, Fliss was over the moon with the promise of a music festival, especially when she looked up the acts that were on. So, when the Friday in question rolled around, after dropping Mary at school, with strict instructions she was to behave herself as Frank WOULD be checking, they set off in Fliss’ jeep, Frank driving as she lounged in the passenger seat, eyes hidden by her aviators, hair pulled into a loose side pony tail as they made the four hour down the coast and across state to Florida, stopping half way for some food at a roadside diner.

Simon and Bonnie weren’t due to arrive until just gone 5 ish, Bonnie having to finish the morning’s classes before she could leave, whilst Jake and Greg were here having come down the night before, so when they had checked in they decided to freshen up and go for a walk, Fliss eager to hit Lincoln Road Mall. They spent a few hours just walking and looking in the shops, eventually finding a Pandora one which Fliss headed into wanting a new charm for her bracelet as a memory of the weekend. She paced the shop eventually settling for a silver palm tree with a small diamond in the middle of the trunk and Frank batted her hand down when she went to pay, instead producing his card. The usual argument about who was paying ensued, which eventually Frank won by telling Fliss that he wanted to be the one that filled that bracelet for her, and she relented, smiling softly. Frank didn’t miss the relieved look on the shop assistant’s face as she finally waved the out of the store.

They met Jake and Greg in a bar not far from the hotel, and they were joined by Bonnie and Simon for a drink before the two girls announced they were heading off to get changed and ready for the evening.  Frank left it until about 20 minutes before he needed to be ready and headed up to their room, pulling on one of his infamous hideous Hawaiian shirts which he had brought especially. Fliss looked at him, shaking her head with a fond smile on her face as he innocently asked her what the problem was. She laughed and told him nothing at all, before she gave him a kiss and they headed down to meet the others.

 The walk down to the Park took them 10 minutes. Fliss was walking slightly ahead with Bonnie, her braid swinging down her back, gently brushing against the yellow off the shoulder top she was wearing. Her bottom half was dressed in denim shorts, a pair of pink converse boots on her feet. She’d certainly embraced the Festival Vibe, opting for bright colours in honour of the fact they were heading back musically a few decades. They arrived and joined the queue to exchange their tickets for wrists bands which took them about 15 minutes, and then they joined the lines to get through the main gates. That didn’t take long at all and once they were through they followed the crowd before Greg stopped, and looked around.

 “We get split up…” “We all got phones!” Jake snorted “What are you, 50?”

 “Sorry, force of habit with the kids…” Greg let out a groan as everyone laughed.

 “So the main stage is that way…” Jake said, pointing to his left “Right at the back. DJ stage is there, and the other stages are dotted about…anyone got any preference on where we go?” “Other than Will Smith I really wanna to go the 80s stage!” Fliss grinned and Bonnie Hi-Fived her.

 “Yeah we got some Duran Duran to dance to.” she agreed. “And Erasure.”

“And Wham.” “And Culture Club….” “Yeah, we get the picture…” Simon rolled his eyes.

 “Oh and I want to see the Queen and AC/DC tributes.” Fliss finished.

 “Anything else?” Frank looked at her.

“Beer.”

“Well we need tokens.” Jake said, “No cash at the bar, tokens only so…the tent is over there…”

 They all set off, Fliss and Bonnie hanging behind chatting away, but it wasn’t long before their chatter died down and Frank turned to see that, actually, it hadn’t died down, they’d disappeared. “Where the hell are the girls?”  Simon asked, looking round as he realised they were missing.

 “Knowing Fliss in some tent getting her face painted…” Frank paused, turning on the spot before he spotted them. Fliss was stood as Bonnie was sat on a stool, having some sort of Festival glitter painted around her temple and eye socket. “Yup, there you go…” Simon followed his gaze and snorted. “Fucking hell…what are they, 8?” “Leave ‘em be.” Frank said fondly “Come on, let’s go get the drinks sorted.”

 He waved at Fliss, before pointing to where they were going and she gave him a thumbs up to show she understood, before Bonnie stood up and she sat down. Frank smiled at her face as it lit up and he headed off after Simon.

 By the time they had gotten the tokens and ordered beers for them all, the girls still hadn’t joined them, and it didn’t take long to realise why. They were both in a tent which contained 2 electronic dance mats, right in the middle of a very energetic dance off.

 “It’s like having a pair of kids…” Simon mumbled the boys stood by the entrance to the tent whilst Frank simply grinned. As they watched Bonnie made a mistake, the mat flashed red, and then another one, before Fliss made one too. The two girls’ foot work was ridiculously fast as the song gathered pace and finally the routine ended. Fliss grinned and hi-fived Bonnie as their scores flashed up, Fliss winning by 60 points.

 “Yesss!” she punched the air as Bonnie shook her head and the man handed them both some really tacky bright pink beaded necklaces for taking part. 

“Re-match…” Bonnie said, looking at Fliss as they both dropped the necklaces over their heads. 

“Maybe later, I’m fucked now…” Fliss said, bending over, hands on her knees as she drew her breath “I need a drink!”

 She turned and saw the boys in the doorway, Frank raised an eyebrow and held up the beer and she grinned. 

“I knew I bought you for something.” He rolled his eyes and then Greg suggested they head off to the first stage for the start of the 80s Tribute acts. They only intended to stay for a short while but Fliss begged Frank to stay longer, and was backed up by Bonnie as the Duran-Duran band came on. Fliss told Frank if he wanted to go and meet up later he could, but truth be told he didn’t want to. This was as much a weekend for him and her as it was for him and his friends, so with that in mind Simon and Frank both decided to stay with the girls and that they would find the others later.

 And Frank was glad of his decision, as about 20 minutes later, when Hungry Like the Wolf started to play, Fliss was bouncing around like a lunatic. He knew it was one of her favourite songs, and seeing her cutting loose was making him a little horny if truth be told. He moved up behind her and grabbed her hips, swaying with her in time to the music as he dropped a kiss to her shoulder, gently singing along as she danced in front of him, occasionally brushing up against the front of his shorts, which was doing nothing to help his current situation.

 “Someone’s definitely on the hunt down…” she teased, pushing her ass back into his crotch whilst she turned her head to face him as the song morphed into Rio. He grinned and gave her a kiss.

 “Not hunting, I already got you.” “Hmm, yeah you did…” she murmured against his lips.

 The continued dancing with one another, Simon and Bonnie doing the same before the 4 of them all decided they were ready for another drink. As fate would have it, they found Greg and Jake already at the bar. They muscled their way in, grabbed another beer and then all turned to head towards one of the tall, standing tables which were dotted around not far from the bar. Frank waited for Fliss as she had ordered a bottle of water too, and the guy serving had forgotten it. When he came back, apologising, Fliss waved him off and thanked him as Frank picked the bottle up and stuck it in his pocket. He reached for Fliss’ hand, and they were making their way over to their friends when suddenly he felt Fliss yell out and she stopped dead. He turned to face her, seeing someone had bumped into her and her beer had spilt all down her top.

 “Hey, come on man…” Frank looked at the guy as Fliss pulled her hand out of his to wipe at her top “Be careful huh…” But the man wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were fixed completely on Fliss. “Yes, wouldn’t want an accident now would we, Felicity?” At the sound of her full name Frank instantly knew this had to be someone to do with her ex-husband and he reached out for Fliss as he saw her stiffen and slowly she raised her head to look at the man, her eyes widening and she swallowed.

 “Richard.” she spoke softly. 

“Fancy seeing you here. Must be nice to be free to do what you want.” “Yeah, well, making up for lost time. I didn’t exactly get a lot of chance to have fun when your brother was beating the shit out of me.” Her chin raised a little defiantly and Frank felt a surge of pride as she stood up for herself, the anger evident on her face.

 “You’re a fucking liar…” Richard said and Frank immediately stepped in.

 “Ok that’s enough…” he spoke sternly, glaring at the man “We’re not here for any trouble, we’re just out for a good time with friends, and I’d like to keep it that way. So, if you don’t mind, we’re done here.” he turned to Fliss and slid his arm round her waist, making to steer her away.

 “You need to be careful.” Richard spoke to Frank’s retreating back. “Now she’s got her claws into you, you’re done…first sign of trouble she’ll be accusing you of all sorts.”

 Frank sighed, he’d tried to be reasonable, but the anger felt like it was bubbling from his feet and he whirled round, placing himself in between the man and Fliss. “Listen, asshole, why don’t you just fuck off?” his tone was laced with venom. “Your brother is a nasty, wife beating piece of shit.”

 At that Richard stepped forward, drawing himself to full height, still a good 3 inches shorter than Frank. His fists balled as he clenched his hands at his side, his mouth curled up into a snarl.

 “She’s a liar.”  Richard pointed at Fliss, before his attention turned back to Frank. “She lied and because of her, John’s life and career is ruined…” “His life? Ruined?” Frank barked out a laugh “Your brother got nothing more than he deserved, and so will you if you don’t get the fuck outta my face.”

 “Frank…” Fliss pleaded with him, pulling on his arm and desperately looking around for help before this descended into a fight. Thankfully, she caught Jake’s eye who hit Greg on the shoulder, who in turn tapped Simon, and the three of them plus Bonnie hastily started to jog over.

 “If he was that bad why has he been considered for parole?” Richard shrugged “An appeal his lawyer is convinced he’ll win…” Richard said, taking a step back as the other men approached. “And that’s all because they finally saw through her lies…” Frank made an angry noise but Greg pushed himself in between the two men, patting Frank on the chest.

 “Come on buddy…” he said. “Whatever it is, leave it…” Jake went to grab Frank’s arm, but he jerked it out of his grip.

 “I’ll tell you this…” Frank pointed at Richard “If he gets out, you can tell him from me, he stays the fuck away from my girl, and the rest of my family, you got that? Or I’ll put him in a hospital, see how he likes it.”

 “Big man making all the threats huh?” “It ain’t a threat, it’s a god-damned promise.” Frank snarled. Richard gave a snort of a laugh before he allowed his wife to steer him away, shooting one last contemptuous glance at both him and Fliss.

 “What the fuck?” Simon turned to Frank, who completely ignored him and moved to where Fliss was stood, her arms wrapped cross her front, hugging herself, Bonnie gently talking to her.

 “You ok?” he asked her gently and she gave a nod as he took her in his arms, hugging her tightly, hand falling to the back of her head.

 Greg gave Frank a questioning look, which Frank answered with two words “His brother.” “Who’s brother?” Jake pressed, “What just happened? I’m so confused.” “To be fair that doesn’t take much…” Frank heard Greg say which earned him a “Fuck you” in response, and the two men began to bicker as Fliss stepped back from his arms. Frank looked down at her, taking her face in his hands.  “You good?”

“Yeah…” she nodded “You shouldn’t have risen to him.” “Probably not.” he shrugged “But I’m not having that piece of shit or anyone associated with him trash mouthing you.”

 “My hero…” she rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face told him he wasn’t in too much trouble. He gave a snort of a laugh and dropped a kiss to her head. “Can we go back to the dancing now please? And I need another beer, that ass hole spilt mine.” “Is it time for tequila yet?” Bonnie asked, offering Fliss a drink of her beer. Fliss took a sip, shaking her head

“I swore after last time I would never drink that shit again.”

“But that was a lie, right?” Bonnie looked at her as she passed her pint back over. 

“Yup, a very big lie…” Fliss agreed, causing the rest of the group to laugh. 

So they did their tequila. Several shots of to be intact and spent the rest of the night wandering stage to stage, lapping up the atmosphere. Frank kept a close eye on his girl who seemed none the worse for her encounter as she danced the night away with him and Bonnie, the 2 of them disappearing at one point for a walk around the various stalls that were around the outside, coming back with a packet of interlocking glow sticks which they proceeded to activate and make head wear out of. 

 Will Smith took to the stage at about 10 pm and Frank was beside himself with laughter as Fliss reverted to some kind of school kid. She seemed to know every single word to every goddamned song he had, and when it came to Men In Black she launched expertly into the dance routine that half the crowd were doing, in time to the video showing behind the stage.  Simon and Jake tried to copy her before they both gave up and when she finished she turned around and Frank raised his beer to her and she bowed, as they all laughed. Deciding that they didn’t want to stay for the after party, considering they knew it was going to be a really late one the next evening, instead they agreed to head down to the beach. They managed to find a guy who was walking round with a cool box selling beer and they bought 2 bottles each, for twice the price they should be but, whatever…

 When in Miami…

 As they walked across the sand, Frank looped his arm round Fliss’ shoulder whilst they weaved themselves through the various mini-parties which seemed to be going on as people were set up all over with small fires, beer, drinks and music playing. Frank had a sneaking suspicion half of them were probably intending on sleeping there too. Eventually they found a clear spot and flopped down onto the sand, under the illumination of one of the boardwalk lights and then Simon stood up, heading over to a group of teenagers sat a bit to their right.

“What’s he doing?” Greg asked. 

“I think he’s reverse bootlegging.” Jake said and Frank gave a snort of laughter.

“What?” Fliss frowned, “What’s that?” “Instead of selling alcohol to underage kids he’s buying it off them, look.” Frank said, nodding to him. Fliss watched as Simon slipped one of the kids a twenty and took the bottle of vodka he was offering to them, raising it up as he walked back.

 “What the fuck man?” Greg snorted “That’s…”

“Shameful.” Jake nodded before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I love it.” With a grin Simon dropped down next to Bonnie, standing the bottle of vodka up in the middle of the circle they seemed to have made as Fliss sat between Frank’s legs, leaning back against his chest. His spare hand ran up and down the outside of her thigh softly as they all sat chatting about the evening, comparing their best bits and what they were looking forward to tomorrow evening. Eventually, someone, Frank wasn’t sure who, decided that they should play Never Have I Ever, and Fliss eagerly agreed, jumping in with the first question.

 “Ok, never have I ever driven a boat…” Fliss smirked.

“What, that’s a crap one!” Frank snorted “Everyone here’s probably driven one…including you.”

“Nope…”

 “Bullshit!” he snorted “On our first date, and several times since…”

 “I sailed it Frankie, I didn’t drive it…”

 He paused for a moment and then looked up as everyone in the circle grinned.

 “She’s right man…” Simon conceded “I sailed mine too…” “And me…”

“And me…”

 “Oh fuck you!” Frank spluttered as they all laughed at him. Fliss handed him the bottle, which he took from her with a glare taking a mouthful. Fucking hell, he could tell it was cheap as it burnt like paint stripper as he swallowed, wincing. 

That was basically the way the game went. Each trying to deliberately catch everyone else out. Simon caught Jake spectacularly, forcing him to reveal a tale about how he got locked out of a hotel room, naked on the balcony and climbed down 2 storeys to go and get a spare key from reception, Simon repeatedly got Bonnie on a number of occasions before Frank caught Fliss out with the tale of how she had once called her University Lecturer “Daddy.” by mistake. 

“Ok, Never have I ever…”  Fliss paused, before a wicked grin spread on her face and she looked at Frank “Called anyone else’s name during sex.”

“Oh God…” Frank heard Bonnie mumble from where she was sat, but before he could even open his mouth to call Fliss an ass hole, he saw Greg reaching for the bottle.

“No WAY!” Fliss spluttered, looking at Greg “What? When!”

 “I was about 21…” Greg said, scrunching up his face. “I was in bed with a girl and, well, I called her mom’s name.” The entire group fell silent before Jake, Frank and Simon all let out a roar of laughter, and Fliss snorted, grinning from ear to ear.

 “That’s…impressive.” Frank nodded as Greg put the bottle down and Fliss picked it up and handed it to Frank. Everyone turned their attention to him as he narrowed his eyes and grabbed it from her.

 “Spill.” Simon pointed at him.

 “I err, well…look, it…” Frank stuttered over his words “I was…look we don’t need to discuss this…” he said, knocking back the vodka and avoiding Bonnie’s eyes, shaking his head “I plead the 5th.” There were various groans around the group but when they realised Frank wasn’t going to budge Greg shrugged, calling him a pussy, and picked the next category.

 “Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” he said, with a raised eyebrow. Both Fliss and Bonnie moved for the bottle at the same time, and the boys all cheered.

“Was it each other?” Simon grinned “Please tell me it was…” “Ok,no…that…” Frank began to protest, hiccupping slightly.  “That would be weird…”

“No it wasn’t each other.” Bonnie grinned at Simon “I was 17, playing spin the bottle and had to kiss this girl called Eva…” “And that’s it?” Simon asked.

“Yeah…” she nodded, taking a drink from the bottle before she passed it to Fliss.

 “Spill…” Frank instructed her, his hand on her hip where she was still nestled in between his legs.

 “I was 19…and, yeah, well, I experimented” she shrugged. “A few times…” 

“Wait, there was…” Frank looked at her as she turned her head to grin at him “You did more than kiss?”

 “For me to know and you to find out Sailor…” she winked. Well fuck me!

 Another 15 minutes or go they’d exhausted the bottle of vodka and decided to call it a night. Bonnie was faring the worst out of them all, her and Simon walking a little behind everyone as he kept his arm round her to keep her steady. Frank noticed Fliss was remarkably with it considering what they’d drunk, but then for such a small person she did have quite a high tolerance, and she’d drunk a hell of a lot of water as well.

 At the hotel they bid everyone goodnight and headed up to their room where Fliss decided she needed to shower to get rid of all the glitter and sand and sweat from dancing. Frank was inclined to agree so let her go first, swapping over after 10 minutes or so with an exchange of a soft kiss in the bathroom doorway. By the time Frank got out of the shower Fliss was sat cross legged on the large bed dressed in a camisole and boy-shorts set which was white with multi-coloured polka dots on it. It was the set he had bought her for Valentine’s Day, along with a set of baby-pink lace underwear. He loved seeing her in lace, but there was something about the lounge sets like the one she was wearing now that gave her an innocence, made her look so comfy and so settled that he adored seeing her wearing them around the house and to bed…even if they didn’t stay on long.

 She grinned up at him as he smiled, crossing to drop a kiss on her head.

 “You raid the minibar?” he asked, nodding to the packet of chips she had ripped open.

 “Yeah.” she shrugged “Figured fuck it, why not?” “Well…”he crossed the room and opened the fridge which was under the TV unit “In for a penny…” he pulled two beers out, popped the tops and passed her one.

 “Don’t you think we’ve had enough?”

“Can you see straight?”

 “Yeah…”

“Then no.” he said and she laughed, taking it from him.

 “You’re a bad man Frank Adler.” “I try.” he quipped. She shook her head, smiling before she reached for her phone which had just gone off. Frank whipped the towel from around his waist and stepped into a clean pair of boxers before he roughly dried his hair.

 “Bonnie says her and Simon are hitting the beach during the day tomorrow…do you fancy it?” “Sure.” he nodded, dropping to the bed, laying down on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he reached for a Dorito.

 “At least I think that’s what this message says. ‘Going to the Bitch…’ I mean that’s gotta be beach huh?” 

Frank snorted as Fliss scrunched up the empty chip bag and tossed it across the room where it settled just besides the bin. They both looked at it for a second before Fliss shrugged. ”She was trashed.”

 “I’m not surprised.” Fliss said, moving to toss her phone onto the night table before she too settled on her side, facing Frank, elbow on the pillow “Simon was deliberately asking questions in that game where he knew she’d have to drink…” “Oh and you weren’t…” he looked at Fliss who shrugged, grinning cheekily “Never have I ever called anyone else’s name during sex, I mean seriously! She was right there!”

 “I know, which is what made it so funny.” “Funny is not the word I would use…” “Oh whatever, and as if Greg has done that too!” she said, chuckling as she also settled on her side “He’s a dark horse…” “So are you…” he looked at her taking a long drink of his beer. “In fact….I think you need to tell me more about these lesbian encounters you experienced whilst experimenting aged 19."  

 "They weren't proper lesbian encounters, I was teasing you...." 

 "I don't care, make em up." He said and she let out a laugh.

 "If I do will it get me something nice?" she grinned.

 "Something very, very nice."  He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

 Fliss grinned and then launched into a clearly made up bullshit story about some girl called Candy and Frank completely zoned out. He was simply too caught up concentrating on the childish, teasing expression on her face as she spoke. Her eyes were shining in the dim light of the room as she talked and grinned in the same manner she had been doing all night. Not even the encounter with that asshole’s brother has dampened her spirit. She was just enjoying herself, freely. And so was he. She said she couldn't remember the last festival or concert she had been to, and Frank had admitted the same. It had to have been easily 10 years ago. It felt good to be recapturing that part of their lives they had both given up (albeit for very different reasons) and making new memories together that he knew would last a lifetime. 

 A lifetime...huh, how about that?

 He zoned back in just in time to hear Fliss' very risqué story telling, and dropped his head with a sight that was half laugh, half groan at her filthy tale.

 "...and her thighs were so strong, it was ridiculous, my ears were squashed so hard, I felt like my head was in a vice. Still, I managed to-"

 "Ok..." he said, taking her beer off her and setting it down on his nightstand along with his, before he leaned over Fliss, caging her with his arms "I'm getting kinda jealous...and a bit turned on...it’s very confusing.

 “You asked…” she muttered as his face dropped her hers.

“Yeah, I did…” his lips brushed against hers “And I promised you something nice…” “Very,very nice…” Fliss said, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulder.

 “Well, I’m a man of my word…” he grinned, lips pressing to hers harder this time in a soft, deep kiss which he pulled away from and ran his nose against hers. “Turn over…”

 “What?” she looked at him, her eyes widening slightly.

“You trust me?”

“Of course I do…” “Then turn over…”

 She took a deep breath, and looked at him and he looked straight back, fully understanding what she was thinking. He’d never asked her to do that before. “Lissy, I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.” “I know you’re not…” she shook her head, before she bit her lip and he moved back so she could turn over onto her stomach. With gently finger tips he brushed her hair off her shoulders, sweeping it to one side gently dropping soft kisses down her neck as his hands traced down to her hips. He gently grasped her top and she moved to allow him to slide it up and over.

 The sheets on the bed rustled slightly as he moved downwards, pressing his lips to the small of her back, watching her reaction carefully as he saw her fingers clutching softly at the pillow. He continued his affections, lips and hands exploring every part of the soft skin on her back until he was fully led over her, thighs bracketing hers, his mouth gently sucking at that spot behind her ear that drove her wild. And right on cue she let out a low groan and he felt his groin twitch at the noise. Fliss could feel his hardness against her back and as his teeth gently grazed her ear she felt her spine arch slightly.

 He moved away, and his hand gently slid to grasp at the hem of her shorts, and she tilted her hips up slightly so he could pull them down, hurriedly departing with his own boxers before he resumed his previous position.

 “You good?” he asked her softly and she nodded in response. 

With gentle hands he reached down between her legs to finding her hot and wet for him already. At his touch she arched her back again. Frank let out a grin and moved slightly so he could part her thighs with his knee. Repositioning himself, he led flat, his arms sliding up hers so he could lace his fingers with hers, palms resting on the backs of her hands and he gently pushed into her, the pair of them giving a groan at the feeling and tightness of this angle. He gently thrust, his chest sliding up over her back, and she moved ever so slightly with him, her head tilted back slightly and she turned her face towards his where he caught her mouth in a slow, sloppy kiss. Frank continued his languid, deep movements, listening to the quickening of her breath and eventually he felt her hips beginning to rise in slow circles, her whimpers increasing.

 He gently knelt up, and pulled her hips so she was perched on her knees, pushing into her slowly, deeply, letting her get used to the position that they’d never tried before because Frank knew it wasn’t one she had good memories of but right now, her body was relaxed and she was giving him everything. His hand reached up and he traced down her spine before he leaned over and placed another soft kiss on her neck before he moved and grasped at her hips again, his pace gently quickening, a low moan escaping his mouth as Fliss pushed back onto him, wordlessly telling him she wanted more. He thrust forwards again and again, pulling her back onto him at the same time, his eyes focussed on where they were joined, the sight of him sliding in and out of her made him moan with desire.

“Don’t stop…” he heard her half pant, half whisper and he picked up the pace ever so slightly, leaning over to gently nip at the back of her neck, causing her to shudder, a deep growl rumbled in his chest as her walls briefly squeezed around him.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned as her hands clutched at the bed sheets whilst he buried himself deep inside of her stilling for a moment.

“Frankie…” she whined and squirmed as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. Once glance at his clenched jaw and she knew he was trying to fight back his high as he picked up his previous movements, just a little bit faster. She was close, quietly moaning his name as she dropped her head back down, forehead against the pillows, her spine arching as he continued to thrust.

Frank groaned again “Come on sweetheart...” his voice deeper like it always was when he was in the throes of desire, “let go for me.” He rolled his hips forwards, five or six more times before she was done.

“Fuck, Frank, I…” she let out a broken cry as her core spasmed again and again and her entire body trembled as a loud lament spilled from her lips. He was done himself, and with a groan of her name his relief washed over him with an intensity he couldn’t even begin to describe.

Fliss collapsed forward and Frank tumbled with her, his chest onto her back, his weight crushing her in the best way possible for a second ot two before he rolled onto his side. Reaching out, his hand gently across her bare back as Fliss face, which was pressed into the pillow turned to face him.

He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss, brushing her hair off her face.

“Okay…” she mumbled, nodding at him “I’ll concede. That was very, very nice…”

******* “You behaving?” Frank asked Mary as he and Fliss lay in bed the next morning, the phone held at arms-length so they could both see her.

“Yeah, of course…” Mary rolled her eyes “Bill took me to the yard last night and Joanne helped me tack Monty up and then Bill walked round the field with us so the dogs could have a run and it was awesome!”

“When I get back we’ll do the full trail ride.” Fliss smiled at her “Takes a good hour, we can go one evening before it gets dark.”

“Cool!” Mary grinned, bending down and then suddenly Fred’s bemused face filled the screen. Frank snorted as he was instructed to say hi to Fred, which he did, before the cat settled down on Mary’s lap and she continued to chat to him about what she had done the night before…which was basically staying up until gone midnight with Bill watching Harry Potter in the movie room.

Eventually they got her to pass the phone over to Verity, who assured Frank she was no trouble, and then they cut the call and decided to get up and head down for breakfast to meet everyone.

The day was spent lazily on the beach. Fliss hardly moved at all, simply soaking up the sun as Frank and Simon continuously brought her and Bonnie a supply of drinks as the man remained by the bar at the top of the sand.

“I gotta ask…”Bonnie said, turning to look at Fliss “And tell me to shut up if I’m outta line but yesterday, that guy Frank looked like he wanted to kill…who was he? Simon says he’s never seen Frank that angry…” “Oh, err…” Fliss rubbed her head “It was my ex-husbands brother, he was being an ass hole.” “Oh.” Bonnie frowned “I take it you don’t get along…nasty break up?” “You could say that…” Fliss said, taking a sip of her drink, tapping the straw lightly on her lips. “John…my ex…he er…he used to beat me. Badly. He’s actually in prison, well, for how long we don’t know as he had his parole hearing about 4 weeks ago so..” “Oh shit…” Bonnie dropped her gaze “Sorry, I didn’t…” “It’s ok.” Fliss said, waving off the usual apologies that came when she told someone about her past.

There was a moment of silence before Bonnie sat up and looked at Fliss.

“Wanna go for a dip?”

Fliss glanced at her, then down to the ocean and grinned, nodding.

Yelling to the boys to watch their stuff they headed down to the waves, Fliss happily diving straight in, simply allowing herself to float. She was calm, relaxed, and couldn’t remember a time she’d ever felt so happy before.

Eventually, it hit 5pm and Fliss was hungry. So they decided to pack up, grab a bite from the bar and then go change ready for the evening. Fliss had to smile as she saw Frank and the rest of the boys stood at a table by the beach bar all clutching pints and laughing. He was dressed in a pink shirt, black shorts with a baseball cap on the wrong way, glasses shielding his eyes.

“I never realised what an overgrown Frat Boy I’m dating.” Fliss mumbled to Bonnie who snorted as they made their way up the wooden boardwalk, beach bags in their hand.

 “Hey pretty girl.” Frank smiled as Fliss slid under his arm, reaching for his pint. With a roll of his eyes he watched as she took a huge drink. “You know if you want one I’ll get you one…” “Tastes better when it’s someone else’s.” Fliss shrugged.

 “Yeah, why is that?” Bonnie asked.

 “Because it’s stolen.” Simon looked at her “Well known fact, forbidden fruit just tastes better.”

Fliss went again for Frank’s drink and he jerked it out of her reach “Piss off, look, here…” he said, reaching into his pocket and handing her his wallet “Go to the bar.” She grinned and dropped a kiss to his lips, turning away, Bonnie following.

 “Dude you’re so whipped.” Jake snorted at him.

 “Yeah, I don’t much care.” Frank shrugged, burping slightly as he looked at Fliss, taking in her appearance. Her hair was falling around her face and down her back in a mass of long, messy salt and sand tangled waves and she was wearing a pink crochet slip over her black bikini. He would happily admit he was well under her spell and that she could whip him all she fucking wanted to. 

They grabbed a bite to eat, headed back, changed and made their way to the park for their second night of music. It went much the same as the night before, Bonnie and Fliss taking off on their own adventures, and Frank keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of John’s fucker of a brother, but he didn’t see him.

 By the time Liam Gallagher came onto the stage, Fliss was drunk. And so was he. But it didn’t stop her from going wild. Once again she knew every single word to every single song and when he launched into Rock and Roll Star she started pogoing like a person possessed. Mind you, so was everyone else on the dance floor in front of the stage, so Frank joined in. He quite liked this song and, well, if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em…

 He ended the set with Live Forever, Frank’s favourite song that he had done and Fliss sighed happily.

“He’s sooo good!” she said, “Why does he have to go?”

“Because his set has finished.” “But why?” “Because it has!” Frank laughed “He’s been on for almost an hour and it’s 1 am!”

“Hey, Liss, don’t worry…” Bonnie hiccupped “Hot Dub starts in 20…just enough time for a drink…” “Yes…” Fliss agreed, pointing at her. “But I think I need some water too.”

“Pussy…” Frank looked at her and she narrowed his eyes at him.

“I’ll carry on drinking beer if you want, but you’ll be clearing up my puke later.” He snorted and held his hands up, palms out “Water it is.” Hot Dub Time Machine was surreal. He was on for about an hour and took them through a load of the best party songs from the 60s right through to the present day. One minute Frank was doing the Twist and Shout with Fliss, and the next they were all in a circle air-guitaring to Immigrant Song by Led Zep.

 By the time they left the park it was almost half 2 in the morning and Fliss decided that she didn’t want to walk and insisted Frank give her a piggy back. He rolled his eyes but crouched down and she took a jump onto his back as he carried her the 10 minutes or so back to the hotel, Simon groaning at him as Bonnie kept complaining he wouldn’t carry her.

 “You’re showing me up, dude!” he glared at Frank who simply shrugged as Fliss smirked.

 “I like riding him.” She hiccupped, as everyone burst into laughter and Frank shook his head as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

 “You’re a fucking nightmare” he sniggered and she shrugged.

 *****

 The next morning everyone was feeling the effects of a heavy weekend, and Frank was pleased that they had the late check out option. Eventually, after dragging themselves out of bed they managed to shower, pack up and head down to check out. There was another argument about who was paying for the room, this time Fliss winning as she put her foot down telling him he was paying for New York and that she really wanted to pay for this. She’d told Frank before about John never letting her have any financial control over anything and Frank knew that it meant a lot to her so he relented, and instead bought them brunch before they set off home.

 They got back in time for a roast dinner, and then they headed back to the annex to watch a film, Fliss crashing out halfway through. She left them to it and headed to bed and was flat out by the time Frank made his way upstairs.

 “I can’t believe you got the day off!” She moaned at him over breakfast on the Monday morning.

 “I can’t believe you didn’t” he shot back

“I can’t…clients and stuff.” She pouted, biting into her toast before she groaned again. “I’m too old for partying all weekend…I can’t hack it anymore.” Frank snorted and took a sip of his coffee before Fliss grinned at him. “Can we go again next year?”

 Frank laughed “The Circle Of Truth have already decided it’s going to be an annual thing from now on.” he said, standing up and with a kiss to her head he moved to the stairs yelling for Mary to get a wiggle on. She came down the stairs, Fred and Thor following before she ate her cereal and then Frank bustled her out of the door to drop her off for the last Monday of the school term. 

Wednesday lunchtime, however, their happy little bubble burst.

 Frank was actually in the sales part of the shop, discussing the benefits of different types of engines with a customer, having been asked to give some advice. He spotted Fliss’ jeep pulling up and as soon as she climbed out and turned towards him, he could tell from her face what was going on.

 “Excuse me for just one second.” He politely told the customer, and glancing at his boss he jerked his head towards Fliss. His boss, a nice enough guy called Andy, knew vaguely what was going on and nodded in understanding as Frank stepped outside.

 “Baby?” he asked tentatively as Fliss stopped in front of him.

“He did it.” she whispered softly, stepping into his arm, pressing her face into his chest.  “He made parole. They let the fucker out.”

**** Chapter 18

[bazwillendinflames]

Wish For You

Read on AO3 

For Matteusz, he had hoped that travelling to the kingdom of Rhodia would bring a better life. Despite a job at the castle, his magic - forbidden by the Queen - and growing feelings for Prince Charles, have only complicated things.

For Prince Charles, tired of living in a carefully controlled world meant to protect him, seeks a night of escape, with the help of the closest thing he has to a true friend. A night at the Festival of Souls provides them both a night of freedom. But how free can you truly be when there's a part of yourself you're always hiding? 

(AKA A loosely based Merlin Marlie au)

Part One - Magic

Matteusz did his chores by hand, even though it was so early the grand hallways of the castle were practically deserted. He had seen the fate of magic users first hand within his first week in Rhodia. Even almost a year later, the smell of smoke still brought back uncomfortable memories of the woman’s screaming. 

He pushed open the Prince’s door without knocking and almost dropped the breakfast tray as Charles let out a startled yelp. Matteusz was equally surprised to see him awake so early - it was rare for him to be awake before Matteusz arrived. It was even rarer for him to awake and ready, although his shirt was ill-fitting and old. 

“My apologies Matteusz,” Charles said formally. 

“I should have knocked,” he said, not quite sure whether to comment on the fact Charles was usually sleeping at this time. “Your breakfast.” 

“Thank you.” 

Charles began eating, in the delicate way only nobles who had their next meal guaranteed could. Matteusz tried not to stare at him, although he was more concerned the Prince had gotten himself cursed again than the other reasons he sometimes found himself watching him . But Charles’ eyes were the same pretty blue, no hints of enchantment or glossiness there. (He always seemed to get himself in trouble, magical or otherwise. Matteusz wasn’t sure how the Prince made it to nineteen without him.) 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

Charles nodded. “Why would I not be?” 

They may be friendlier than Mattuesz suspected a Prince and a servant were meant to be - almost friends (which was enough, even if a part of him ached hopelessly for more) - but he still knew better than to push it. 

“No reason,” he answered politely instead, busying himself with lighting the fire. 

“What has my Mother planned for me today?” 

“Strategic meetings in the morning, training with the knights in the afternoon.” The same as every Friday. 

Charles’ handsome face twitched into a frown. “How… lovely. What of the evening?” 

“No plans I know of.” 

That seemed to please Charles, although he didn’t let on why. “Excellent.” 

Matteusz didn’t pry. As long as Charles did not get himself into danger (again), he was welcome to his secrets. 

Matteusz started tidying the room picking up crumpled clothes. Charles may be polite and remember the names of his servants but he was incredibly messy. He could afford to be in a house full of servants, part of him thought bitterly. Still, Matteusz enjoyed his job, he liked the quiet domestic mornings and he liked being at Charles’ side. He was lucky to get a job at the castle, even if it was a little tedious at times and he was too fearful to use magic. The paycheck that funded his sisters’ education kept him going. 

A canvas was set up in the corner, still wet at the edges. It must have been why Charles was awake so early, although Matteusz would never have guessed he was an artist. It was impressive, a beautiful painting of the Rhodian town square, lit up with hundreds of candles. Only half of the night sky was painted but Matteusz could tell it would be a gorgeous piece when finished. 

“Did you paint this?” He found himself asking. Then, as it was an obvious question he added: “it is very good.” 

Charles looked over at the canvas, his expression pained. “I did. I can explain-” 

“You are very talented,” Matteusz interrupted, hoping he wasn’t pushing any of the unspoken boundaries between them. “Is it ever lit up that way? With all the candles?” 

“Yes, candles,” Charles said quickly. “It’s how I imagine the town to look at night. I have not been able to see it like that.” 

“I would like to see it like that as well,” he agreed, “you make it look magical.” 

“Do not tell the Queen that,” Charles said dryly. Matteusz stepped back from the painting guiltily. But it was clear Charles was not being serious, just another of his jokes that did not land right. 

“Our secret,” he promised. 

Charles smiled at that and Matteusz made himself busy again. It would not do him well to linger on the fluttering in his chest for too long. A Prince and a servant - especially a foriegn one with magic -  like him would never work. (But it was nice to imagine sometimes. But only sometimes. If he indulged in Charles' smile for too long, he’d never get anything done at all.) 

With the prince busy all morning, Matteusz found himself in a cramped corner of the palace library. Tanya always seemed to know when he’d be away from Charles’ side and had ambushed him half-way through doing laundry. There had been little point arguing as he was dragged around the castle, although he made a token attempt at protesting anyway. 

“Shouldn't you be working?” 

She hushed him, balancing another scroll on the pile in his arms. Matteusz was sure they weren’t allowed to access the royal library for personal use but there was little point bringing it up to Tanya. She was both stubborn and clever enough to get away with it. Besides, she was one of his only friends. 

“Come on,” she hurried him along. 

Matteusz followed her, weaving through the many hallways and servant passages of the castle. It had been an impressive sight on his first day but there was always some new pathway or hiding spot he was learning of - impossibly, it was bigger on the inside. Tanya had taken them to a small room, the size of a cupboard, with two beds squeezed in and a rocky dresser in the corner. 

“Do not let anyone see you here.” 

“I won’t,” he promised. 

Tanya pulled on the bottom draw until he came out completely with a creak. A dozen scrolls were hidden there. 

“Clever,” he noted. Matteusz had hidden a few texts of his own - old books of magic from the old religion, half-translated to Polish by his Grandmother. Under the queen’s rule, it was important to know how to hide. 

“Thanks. I usually don’t take so many, but it was so busy today. Everyone is preoccupied with the festival today.” 

“What festival?” 

Tanya looked up from her scrolls. “You don’t- I keep forgetting you’re new. Tonight is the Festival of Souls. All staff get the night off. It’s tradition.”  

“That’s unexpectedly nice of the Queen.” 

“The Prince actually,” she corrected. 

Matteusz smiled. “Really?” 

Tanya wedged back the draw with force. “Come help me finish my chores so we can go early? And please take that sappy look off your face.” 

Matteusz followed her smiling. Tanya may drag him around the castle but at least she dragged him out of it too. A kingdom away from Cela, he had found himself another sister. 

   “So tell me more about this festival?” Matteusz asked.

They were taking the long walk on the outskirts of the castle, carrying heavy buckets of water out to the stables. As one of the younger servants, Tanya was usually stuck with grunt work like that. Matteusz had only been roped into helping her out of his own niceness. 

“It’s fun. There’s live music and nice food. At the end, we light candles that’s meant to be our soul’s wish.” 

“It sounds wonderful.” 

“You’re lucky you get to experience it for the first time.” 

They crossed over from the cobblestone bricks onto the uneven grass. It was a short cut that they desperately needed - Matteusz arms were starting to ache. 

“Thank the gods,” Tanya said, dropping the buckets on the ground. “I wish they’d just install a pump out here.” 

Matteusz put down his own load and sat by her on the ground. “We deserve a break.” 

“Agreed.” 

“Did someone say break?” April asked. “Count me in.” 

She ignored her own duties of taking the buckets in and joined them. April was one of the stable hands who looked after the castle horses. It was a job that suited her - she was very gentle with them. Matteusz had even caught her singing to them a few times. 

“Are you coming to the festival?” 

“If the right person asks me,” she replied coyly. 

“Are you talking about a certain knight?” Tanya teased. 

They were sat close enough to the training fields to make out the figures sparring with each other. 

“I might be.” April waved in their direction. The knight in question, Lord Singh, waved back and was knocked on the ground. He did his best to style it out, jogging over in their direction. 

“Here’s your chance,” Tanya muttered. “Oh hey Ram. You know you’re meant to stay on your feet during a fight, right?” 

“Funny.” He smiled at them charmingly. “I wasn’t expecting my fans.” 

“More like casual spectators,” Tanya replied, although it was clear his attention was now firmly directed at April. 

“I think that’s our sign to leave.” 

“Agreed.” They stood up to leave. 

Matteusz smiled over his shoulder. “Hope to see you later April.” 

“You will!” 

“Should I be jealous you have plans?” 

Matteusz almost laughed. He had far more interest in him than April. (Ram flirted with everyone. It said a lot about how smitten he was with Charles that Matteusz wasn’t taken by him more.) 

“Just the festival later. You know the one you’ll be taking me to later.” 

The pair continued flirting as Tanya and Matteusz walked back in the direction of the castle. 

“Good for her.” 

“Yeah.” She seemed a little wistful. “Wish it was that easy for people like us to find someone.” 

Matteusz’ thoughts ended up back to Charles. “And tell them,” he added. 

  “My apologies, I didn’t realise you were back from your training already.” 

Charles was sitting in front of his canvas, a smudge of dark blue paint on his chin. “No need to apologise.” 

“You didn’t go, did you?” 

“It may have slipped my mind,” Charles confessed. 

Matteusz peered over his shoulder at the painting he had been working on this morning. It was now near finished, with the indigo sky complete and a pale moon in the corner. “You really are talented.” 

“You flatter me,” he replied. But Mattuesz could tell from the smile that he enjoyed the flattery. 

“Is it the festival?” 

“It’s close. I’ve not yet been able to attend myself.” 

 The Queen was likely behind it: she was a paranoid woman. (She had enough reason to be paranoid, the magical community had targeted Charles a dozen times over her policies against them.) 

“I can tell you about it tomorrow.” 

“You’re attending?” Charles asked, turning away from his painting. 

“If I am allowed to?” 

He nodded. “Of course. It’s funny, in ways you have so much more freedom than I do.” 

“In some ways,” Matteusz replied, thinking of the flow of magic under his skin he was terrified to use. 

“Could I ask something of you?” There was a softness to the Prince’s voice that Matteusz had clung onto. He had a feeling whatever it was Charles would ask of him, he would agree. 

“Anything.” 

“Could you take me with you?” 

Part 2 - Magic

Part of Charles had been hoping that Matteusz would have lent him some clothes. It was strangely disappointing that he hadn’t - his painting clothes had been women enough to pass as commoner wear. Although perhaps if he claimed to be cold later, Matteusz would offer his jacket, or the soft looking scarf he usually wore. 

(Charles usually didn’t allow himself to linger too long on Matteusz like that. There were a hundred good reasons not to linger on the way Matteusz had tenderly wiped paint from his face earlier. It wouldn’t end well, for either of them.)  

As if Matteusz could tell what he was thinking, he looked over (or down, more accurately) at him. “Are you alright?” 

Charles felt his cheeks flush. “Yes.” 

Matteusz smiled at him. Perhaps his simpler clothing was doing something good: it seemed like they were almost equals. Matteusz rarely smiled at him as much whilst he was working. 

“I can see from here.” 

Charles followed him, catching sight of the lights threaded amongst the trees and windowsills of the square. He had only been in the town square a few times before and never in under conditions. This was no emergency evacuation due to cursed wells or an unfortunate face off with an embittered magic welder. (Or, on one special occasion, a dragon.) 

The square was far from the state of chaos he was used to. The festival was filled with dozens of lights, meant to represent the souls of their lost family and friends. There were small stalls, with barrels of ale or delicious smelling foods. A band played music in the centre. 

“It’s so much more than I was ever able to imagine.” 

“You can try and repaint it,” Matteusz suggested. 

“Some things are just too beautiful to really capture.” 

“You don’t know until you’ve tried.” 

Under the waves of gentle candle light, his warm brown eyes were almost golden. It was hard not to get caught up in it all, so Charles forced himself to step away. He was still a prince after all, no matter how free he felt or how simple he was dressed. 

“Best not to. I don’t want to give us- me away.”

Matteusz seemed to get the underlying message and nodded. “Yes, of course sir.” 

“You know I hate that,” Charles said, hoping his exaggerated frustration would lighten the mood. 

Matteusz looked almost relieved. But before Charles could really analyse his expression, Mattuesz was pushing forward through the crowd towards the cluster of stalls. 

They stopped at a few stalls, browsing the various wares there. Matteusz picked up a set of two woven bracelets. A matching set. 

Charles swallowed back any jealousy. It wasn’t his business to ask who it was for, Matteusz was allowed to have a life outside of his work. 

“Best ale in the kingdom,” Matteusz said. He was talking to the old woman who ran the stall with an easy charm. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere young man,” she replied. Her accent was similar to Matteusz’ own - she must be from the edge of the kingdom as well. “Who’s this?” 

“A friend from the palace,” Matteusz answered. 

“Ah. Another unlucky soul?” 

Charles stayed quiet, mildly alarmed. Maybe his Mother was right when she told him there was danger everywhere. 

“But we have so kindly been given a day off,” Matteusz replied. 

It hadn’t occurred to Charles that Matteusz might actually want to spend his day off away from him. He couldn’t imagine any of his past servants doing the same for him. 

Matteusz paid for the drinks, passing a tall glass of a dark ale to him. 

Charles gave it an experimental sip and spluttered on the bitter taste. He was glad Matteusz was turned away for that one. 

They moved away from the stalls, crossing a group of giggling young women pushing past in the other direction, knocking their bags into him and splashing their drinks. 

“It seems like your disguise is working.” 

Charles rubbed at the dark stain now on his arm. “Yes. Maybe too well.” 

“Surely it is nice to be invisible for once?” 

“It’s certainly… a change.” He sighed. “Although if we could escape the crowd, I’d appreciate it.” 

Just a small comment had alerted him to all the unknowns in the crowds. It would only take one magic user with a grudge to cause chaos. 

Matteusz seemed to sense his anxiety and reached for his hand, navigating them through the masses of people into a more secluded corner. 

“Better?” 

Charles nodded, trying to ignore how his hand was tingling. (He had once fought a magic user who shot bolts of lightning at people. It felt similar - like all his nerves were on edge.) 

“I will get us new drinks.” 

Charles found himself suddenly alone, in a quiet corner at the edge of everything he had ever dreamed of seeing. He closed his eyes and let the sounds wash over him: endless chatter, musical warm ups from the band, laughter. He could still feel the warmth of Matteusz's hand in his own. 

This was a life that Charles could imagine for himself if he had been born common. Visiting the festival every year, not having to worry about meetings or magic or pleasing the Queen. Marrying for love, not power. 

It was merely a fantasy - and it would only ever stay a fantasy. But it was nice to imagine otherwise. 

“We have a good view of the musicians.” 

Charles opened his eyes again, with Matteusz now by his side. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Oh there’s April.” Matteusz pointed at the dark haired woman holding a fiddle. “She works at the palace. We should be careful though, Lord Singh is with her.” 

“You know a lot about the palace.” 

“They’re my friends.”

Charles wanted to ask what that was like but he didn’t want to look too naive. He busied himself by trying the ale again, but the taste hadn’t improved. 

Matteusz tried his best to hide it but Charles caught the laughter behind his hand. 

“Are you laughing at me?” 

“No.” 

“I can hear you.” 

Matteusz moved his hand, revealing his bright smile. It was almost enough for him to be forgiven. “Okay. Just a little. I’ve seen you drink caskets of wine in the kingdom with no problem.” 

“They taste nice!” 

Matteusz took a long sip of his own drink. “You’ll get used to it.” 

They say in a peaceful quiet. They were positioned perfectly to watch couples dance to the music played. Now Matteusz had mentioned it, he could make out Lord Singh spinning the pretty musician girl. 

“Must be nice to dance without such strict rules.” 

“Yes,” Matteusz agreed, sounding a little wistful. 

Charles took a longer gulp of his ale before asking: “do you have anyone to dance with? If you hadn’t escorted me?” 

“Escorted?” Matteusz seemed amused. “You’re a little old for a babysitter.” 

…Which wasn’t answering his question. 

“But no,” he answered. “I had someone back home but I had to leave him behind.” 

Him. Charles tried not to overthink it. 

“Do you miss it?” 

“Dancing?” Matteusz asked. “I am not very good.” 

“Having someone.” He felt his face flush again. At least it was darker now and less obvious. He could always blame the ale. 

“It was nice.” He looked away from the couples. “I miss other parts of home more. Like my sister. I send her gifts when I can. Like the bracelets I brought earlier. She likes to make ones like them.” 

Charles felt a little foolish. “You don’t mention her a lot.” 

“I miss her,” Mattesuz replied. 

“I sometimes wish I had a sibling,” Charles confessed. “To share the burden of being a prince.” 

“Must be lonely.” 

He looked over to Matteusz, reliably by his side as always. “Not always.” 

  Wobbling slightly, Charles was starting to regret his second and third ales. It had taken them to finally pluck up the courage to ask Matteusz to dance with him. It had been ungraceful, yet freeing, to be spun around in hazy circles. 

“I’m dizzy.” 

“I’m sure you are.” Was Matteusz laughing at him? He found it more endearing than anything else. They had both let their guard down. 

“I wish I was normal so we could do this everyday.” 

“The festival is only once a year.” 

“Then I’ll make it law to happen everyday.” 

“Normal people can’t make laws.” Matteusz was definitely teasing him now. “This way.” 

“I’d run away after.” 

“You can’t just run away.” 

Charles frowned. “You did. You left everything you knew.” 

“Yeah. But it is different. They need me to be here, even if it's dangerous for me. Rhodia needs you right where you are.” 

“How is it dangerous?” He asked. “Magic?” 

Matteusz stopped for a moment and Charles stumbled into his back. 

“It’s okay. I’ll protect you from the evil magicians Matti.” 

“Don’t call me that,” he replied. All the fun sucked out of the conversation suddenly. 

Even in his inebriated state, Charles knew when to shut up. 

“This is a bad idea.” 

“Is it?” 

“This shortcut I mean.” Matteusz glanced over down the steep hill. “Not when you’re like this.” 

“I’m fine,” Charles shot back. He didn’t want Matteusz to think he was incapable of walking. 

“Wait, don’t-” Matteusz called, his voice the last thing Charles heard before he slipped.

   Charles had fallen down a hill, in the darkness of early morning, and woken up to the natural light pouring through his open curtains. He had expected the light to sting but he felt okay, minus a fogginess in his head. 

Matteusz was nowhere to be seen. He was usually on time for his duties, but maybe Charles had just missed him. There was tea and breakfast on the side, fresh clothes and the open window. Charles just hoped he hadn’t done anything stupid yesterday. 

(Charles could remember looking up at him, opening his mouth, a horrified expression on Matteusz face. He couldn’t remember what he said, which was somehow worse.) 

He dressed himself. In the mirror, he spotted a small scratch on his forehead. (He could remember falling last night. Maybe just the stairs. He was drunk after all.) 

Matteusz was still missing as Charles went about his day. He had done his lessons alone, then was served by a new servant at lunch. By the time his mother had her meetings, he was convinced Mattuesz was avoiding him. He let Councillor Ames speech wash over him, recounting the last night’s events again, trying to find where he went wrong. 

Charles recalled his face when he had called him ‘Matti', his warning of caution, then a weightless falling, as if time slowed down. That part felt even blurrier, perhaps he had hit his head, even if it didn’t hurt. In fact, he hadn’t even been hungover. It was like- 

“Magic,” Ames was saying, “is evil.” 

(“Magic,” Charles recalled himself saying yesterday, “but you’re not evil.”) 

“Yes, my lord?” 

Without realising he had stood up. It wasn’t just the councillor’s eyes on him, but the whole meeting room. “Um, I agree with the councillor.” 

“What was she saying?” 

He winced: the queen never went easy on him. “Er.” 

“Just go Charles,” she said sternly, “it’s clear your mind is elsewhere.” 

“My apologies,” he said. Usually being told off like a child would be upsetting, but there was already something else on his mind. 

Charles forced himself to walk out the room slowly. Once he was back in the empty hall, he took off running towards his room. He sunk into his bed, shaking, as the events of the night before finally clicked into place. 

  He had been falling, Mattuesz shouting something. Not for help, something else. Words he didn’t recognise. 

Charles had stopped falling, more like drifting, like a feather caught in the wind. The world suddenly slowed, until he had harmlessly landed on a patch of grass and wildflowers that hadn’t been there before. 

Matteusz had gotten down too, suddenly crouched in front of him. He had wiped the small scratch on his face gently and suddenly the bleeding had stopped. 

“Are you okay?” 

Charles was dazed. “You did something.” 

“No I didn’t,” Matteusz said, too quickly. “You just got lucky.” 

“No, it was you,” he had repeated, with clarity. “I was floating, it was like…” 

“Don’t say it.” 

But he had said it. “Magic. You have magic. But you’re not evil.” 

“I’m not anything.” 

“It all makes sense,” he had said, feeling suddenly sober, “all those fights we won - that was you. I thought I was special. I thought I was a hero.” 

“I needed to protect you,” Matteusz whispered. “I will keep protecting you. I’m sorry.” 

He had put his hands on his face and for a second Charles had thought he was going to be kissed. Instead, there was just blankness, nothing. 

Matteusz had made him forget. 

Charles had finally caught up with Matteusz after training with his knights. He had fought better than usual, filled with so much anger that he had even managed to beat Lord Singh. 

He had been with the same musician they saw yesterday, watching from a distance. 

“Let’s go for a ride,” he had suggested. The musician girl had been a stable hand and given them a horse each and they headed into the quietness of the forest. 

“How’s your head?” There was a forced playfulness to Matteusz’ voice. 

“Alright, considering how far I fell.” 

Matteusz had stopped. “I-” 

“I remember.” Charles stopped his horse and slid off him. “Have you made me forget other things?”

“No, never. I only ever used my magic to help you. Memory spells are tricky.” 

“You used untested dark magic on me?” 

Charles was starting to wonder if going somewhere alone with a magic user was a bad idea. If it was up to his Mother, Matteusz would be executed by the next morning. (He couldn’t let that happen. Charles couldn’t be that wrong about him.) 

“It wasn’t dark magic,” Matteusz said, “no magic is dark-” 

“Experience tells me otherwise. Magicians killed my Father.” 

“I know and I’m sorry that happened. But we are not all like that.” Matteusz stepped back, like he was the one to be afraid. “I will leave tonight. You won’t have to see me again. Please, don’t tell the queen.”

“How could you say that?” Charles asked. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You have done it to others like me,” Matteusz said. He still looked scared. 

“Is that why you didn’t tell me the truth?” 

“It is dangerous to be magic,” he explained. “I could take no chances.” 

“I understand. I have my own secrets. Even from you.” 

Matteusz didn’t ask. (He wished he would. Then he could do something. One kiss, if he really was going to leave, if Charles was allowed one indulgence.) 

“For what it’s worth, I wish for you to stay. I will keep your secret. You have saved my life so many times, I owe you that.” 

Mattuesz looked relieved. “Thank you.” 

(When Charles woke up the next morning, it was Matteusz opening the curtains and letting the light in.)

[quietepics]

                                      ♡ · 　INTRO.　 * .  VI / ?.

          in garnet’s words ,  the  queen of gaslighting  is here !  hello again everyone ,  today i bring you yet another trash kid .  meet  sibel eren ,  my  mnemosyne  kid .  she’s  a  rich ,  reformed  mean  girl  who  was  never  really  mean  to  begin  with .  peer  pressure  do  be  like  that  sometimes !  i’ll  try  to  keep  this  short .  hope  you  like  her  ♡

THE BASICS

name:  melisa sibel eren nickname(s):  bel , sib birthday:  july 30th, 1997 ethnicity:  turkish birthplace:  born in ankara ,  turkey ;  raised in london ,  england gender identity:  cis female sexuality:  pansexual / panromantic powers: memory evocation and memory manipulation mixtape:  cry / ashnikko ,  candy / doja cat ,  nda / billie eilish ,  desert rose / lolo zouai ,  you are a memory / message to bears character inspiration:  lux lisbon ( tvs ) ,  anya ( anastasia ) ,  viola ( soulcalibur ) ,  ty lee ( avatar: the last airbender ) ,  emma woodhouse ( emma )

THE MUSE

      sibel eren is the only daughter of ozan eren ,  a neuropsychiatrist with a great reputation and an ever greater bank account .  she was the result of a one night stand with the goddess mnemosyne ,  who didn’t stick around for longer than the first year of sibel’s life .  not that it mattered anyway ,  for ozan spared no effort to raise his daughter as greatly as possible ,  all while staying dedicated to his work when he returned to london .

      growing up ,  sibel was always top of her class ,  excelling on all subjects even if she struggled every so often .  it could be that her father bribed her school and teachers ,  but that’s just a mystery no one’s been able to solve .  more important than her grades ,  however ,  were her friends ;  they weren’t the best of people ,  just your stereotypical group of rich kids without a single care in he world ,  but she fit in with them rather nicely .  of everyone in their little group ,  sibel was known for being the nice one ,  the one who would go out of their way to be kind to others rather than bully them .  her friends didn’t get it ,  yet they didn’t care either .

      as sibel got older ,  things started to change within her .  she could feel her memory progressively getting worse and worse ,  yet paid no mind to it  ---  if anything ,  she assumed it had something to do with puberty or teenage hormones .  telling her father about it wasn’t an option either ;  the man was overwhelmingly busy with work and other things ,  and she didn’t want to be just another one of her father’s patients .

      when sibel was sixteen ,  she met her first boyfriend ,  a guy from school who managed to get inside her friend group .  much to no one’s surprise ,  she was head over heels in love with him and their relationship was wonderful .  at least seemingly so .

      about a year later ,  rumors started spreading that the boy was spotted cheating on her ,  which sibel refused to believe .  it wasn’t until she caught him and one of her best friends together with her own eyes during a christmas party that the girl learned that she was being used all along .  the two had been seeing each other for months now ,  and at least half of her friend group knew about it .  yet because of her goody - two - shoes attitude and subpar memory ,  both her boyfriend and friend thought they could get away with it ,  and that it wouldn’t matter .  after all ,  what trouble could she possibly cause ?

        all sibel could think about was how much she wanted to forget what she’d just seen .  not only her ,  but all the people who’d gathered round to witness the greatest  faux pas  of the holiday season to forget it as well .  with clenched fists and a loud scream of frustration ,  the girl willed everyone to forget what happened ,  yet it only led people to lose scattered pieces of their own memories of that night to the point where no one was sure of what exactly they were doing there .  

         to the outsider ,  it became public knowledge that what happened that night was something to do with collective amnesia due to a lot of alcohol ,  but that didn’t explain why sibel was found sleeping for three days straight after the revelation .  when she woke up at the hospital ,  the girl was scouted by nl and claimed by her godly mother .  she hasn’t spoken to any of her  “ old friends ”  ever since ,  but something tells her they might think of her as a freak now .

MISC.

so yeah ,  sib’s memory isn’t the greatest .  it became worse as her powers grew ,  but it’s gotten a lot better since she came to nl as a result of learning to control her gifts .

because her memory isn’t the greatest ,  forming a relationship with her takes a lot of effort and patience .  she might forget you the first couple of times you meet ,  but after the third or forth time hanging out ,  chances are sibel will have your name and face memorized ,  and maybe a random fact too . 

bel relies on photographs and notes a lot .  she’s an avid user of social media ,  not just because it’s fun but because it genuinely helps her remember things .  she also has quite the amount of followers ,  but nothing like an nl ambassador .  she just happens to be rich ,  and her reputation is to blame for her relative popularity .

tends to be a bit snappy ,  but it’s only because she doesn’t want to get taken advantage of or be made a fool of again .  i promise she has a good heart !

is a little bit reckless .  she knows she won’t remember most of the things she does anyway ,  so why bother stressing about it !

when it comes to the medical track ,  sibel specializes in injuries pertaining to the brain ,  as well as taking care of heroes and other demigods who might have suffered some sort of accident that might affect their memories .  she can be found during daytime or night time depending on the day ,  as she often covers for anyone who might not be able to show up for some reason .

plot ideas ig:  someone who just looks out for her and makes sure she’s not being too reckless or getting taken advantage of due to her bad memory ;  someone who’s been putting in the effort to befriend her even though it’s not easy ,  but they think she’s worth the effort or are curious about her ;  a best friend ,  which is a huge deal considering how terrible her old friends were to her ;  one night stands ,  as i imagine she has quite a few ( this could be especially funny considering she most likely won’t remember them in particular ,  just the smash ) ;  a fwb that she actually does remember and is her safe bet of sorts ;  coworkers ;  friends who walk around campus with her to take pictures of things ;  anything your heart desires !

POWERS 

[ MEMORY EVOCATION ]: sibel is able to bring old memories to light with clarity and more vividly. this works best if she’s given a token related to said memory ( an object, a photograph, something from that specific time or day ). however, she cannot create a memory from scratch.

[ MEMORY MANIPULATION ]:  she can alter parts of a person’s memory; the bigger the alteration ( ie. a person, a location ), the more concentration it requires, leading to exhaustion that can keep her bedridden for days. though she can manipulate memories, cannot erase them completely, but her alterations can make a traumatic memory less impactful, or even turn it into a pleasant one.

[sayonarasanity]

Reverberation

Summary: Levi’s grey eyes watched her seriously, and with caution. He was giving her all his attention, focused on the words that were about to leave her mouth. Hanji thought that was the actual reason why they were so close. Because when no one cared to hear a word from her Levi listened to her telling stories of gods and goddesses, heroes and villains, ancient people and ancient folks, tales of love and tales of hatred. When no one bothered seeing her colours, Levi sat down in front of her and let her paint everything she ever wanted.

Chapters: 2/?

link to AO3 

link to second chapter

In short a Levihan Childhood Friends AU in which I plan to enjoy using quotes from Shakespeare a lot if I make it that far that is. 

The boy sits on top of the rooftop.  

Hanji wonders why she is so fascinated by the view of a boy about her age. All he does is watching above and there is not even a token of emotion written on his face. He looks like he is reading a book in which he is not a bit interested, yet the mere fact that he is holding pages in his palms is enough for him.

She hasn’t seen anyone who has spared just a few minutes of their precious time to watch the sky, through her eleven years of a lifetime that is. Just like she hasn’t seen anyone going crazy when they find out that there was a frog in Indonesia which had no lungs, so it breathed entirely through its skin. Oh, it was so very exciting and bewitching and she had barely slept dreaming about it. Hanji would die to see that frog. She had begged her parents for about a week for them to take her to Indonesia. Mommy, mommy, please! I want to go there. I need to see that frog. It is breathing through its skin mom. How fascinating is that? Hanji, darling you know you can’t. You have school. I don’t have school in the summer! But Indonesia is so far away honey. It on the other side of the world. Oh, oh! That’s even better. I want to go to the other side of the world! Mommy please, please!

Too bad her efforts had given no fruit. She hasn’t given up on her dream yet, though. She just had to postpone it for a little while.

She approaches the boy cautiously. Because maybe this is his area and it is her first time here, so she doesn’t want to be seen as an invader. She had been walking around the town aimlessly when she came across this abandoned building. Its construction is uncompleted, there are no windows and doors, and the orange bricks on the walls are uncovered, free of paint. Hanji knew that sneaking into a hollow, and a relatively eery building was sort of perilous, but it was also thrilling. It had made her feel like she was a member of the Paul Street Boys. Although the setting was kind of distinct and she was alone. But it had never stopped her from discovering. And when she had climbed the concrete, grey stairs she had found the mystery boy here.

There is the not-quite-unfortunate fact that she cannot get along well with boys. They are rude, and filthy and egoistic. They walk around like they are the reincarnations of Achilles like no one is good enough for them. They are no sons of gods or goddesses. How pathetic. But she senses that there is something different with this one. Because he watches the sky, and the stars stare down at him. Hanji feels like she is observing a painting or reading Percy Jackson for the first time. It causes her nerves to stand, her insides to shake and she knows she cannot hold herself back. A step away from the rabbit hole, she imagines and feels like this is Wonderland and she is fool but also curious enough to fall down.

“Hi!” She twitters suddenly.

The boy doesn’t seem surprised or taken aback at hearing someone talking to him out of the blue. Maybe he had already known that Hanji was here. It only makes him more intriguing and Hanji hardly stops herself from bouncing on her feet. For a moment he observes her. His eyes are the colour of the moon, argent but they also have a touch of blue. Not too light but not too dark either. Closer to the sky when the night just begins to settle down. More like it is right now.

“Hey,” he says, dryly.

No rejection. That’s a good start.

“May I sit?”

The boy merely shrugs then turns his gaze back at the sky. Hanji takes it as a positive reaction and sits down next to him, carefully putting some distance away between herself and the boy. She opts to watch the view spread out before her first. This is a partially remote area of the town. The buildings are disorderly, and the streets do not seem fairly clean. Hanji wants to travel her hand on top of the buildings to feel the ups and downs of the rooftops on her palm. The image makes her giggle to herself. Ah, how nice it would be, wouldn’t it? Too bad it was impossible.

She feels the boy giving her a side glance, but he makes no remarks.

“Are you counting the stars?” She asks as she tilts her head back to watch them. There aren’t so many yet, but it would be hard to keep track of the numbers.

“No,” he replies. Curt and clear. He is not the one to talk, is he? Hanji muses inside.

“My grandmother used to say that it would make calluses to appear on your skin. Have you heard about it as well? I think it is a superstition though—”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” the boy interrupts. That is the first time he has used more than a word! Success. Good for you, Hanji. She pats her shoulder in her head proudly.

Hanji opens her mouth to respond but he beats her to it. “You can’t count infinity,” he says. “It is a waste of time.”

Hanji inhales.  

At this point, she is so near the edge to burst with her bubbling excitement that she is sure he feels it too. Her head spins as she stares at his side profile. He makes her feel like she is on a carousel. Everything about him makes her dizzy as if he is one of those books on her father’s library which she cannot reach and cannot understand even if she does. He doesn’t look at her. He has an undercut, she notices, dark hair moving in harmony with the wind. His attire is clean, neat and tidy. His face has the smooth lines of a child but there is a lining of maturity underneath them. And the way he holds himself, upright but also at ease. Nothing about him is fake, superficial or ordinary.

“What’s your name?” She asks as a grin spreads on her lips uncontrollably.

He moves his sharp eyes to her at last and he travels his gaze around her face. It is so hard to read anything from his features. Like looking at the blurry surface of a mirror and trying to figure out the lines of the face in it. And she fears that he won’t answer. Was he annoyed with her? But she hasn’t even reached the peak of her usual talkativeness, yet.

“It’s Levi.”

She nearly gasps for she had been very close to convincing herself that the boy had disliked her very much. Levi. It is a nice name, and it suits his personality somehow. Despite the fact that she had only known him for what? Five minutes? Maybe even less than that. But Hanji can tell.

“I’m Hanji,” she says her name back even though he hasn’t asked. Slowly put one Lego on top of it the other. Bring them all together and there, you have a castle. “Say, Levi, would you like to learn more about the sky?”

The boy doesn’t answer with words. He looks back above and shrugs.

But that’s more than enough for her.

now

Hanji’s phone rings in the middle of an important meeting.

Frankly, it is not that big of a problem. It happens to everyone every now and then. And her phone doesn’t even ring with a melody, it merely vibrates on the wooden table. Though it does make a hell of a lot of noise. Yet, the only way to overcome the situation is to simply reach out and silence it in a cold-blooded way, like nothing ever happened. That she does, without a nuisance.

The actual problem here is the name on the screen of her phone, and the fact that her hand was trembling as she pressed the button. Suddenly the air becomes too heavy, too hot and the room too narrow to fit inside. She distinctively feels Mr Jaeger’s piercing gaze from across the table. It is always hard to hide subtle changes of behaviour from a man as sharp as him. But Hanji is a professional and there is no way she can allow a slight disturbance to avoid her from focusing on her job. She imagines herself flicking her fingers aggressively as if to wake herself up from a deep slumber like she is buried deep in thick fog. Concentrate.

The blurry whiteness disappears gradually, her vision becomes clear and the deadlock in her ears leaves. But the name remains on her screen even after the ringing stops and she has to grip her pen tight enough to make the shivers go away.

-

The next time her phone rings there are several minutes to her lunch break. She shifts her attention from her computer screen to the phone and she just stares at the name, as if she looks long enough the letters will change or they will disappear, or she will wake up from this dreary sleep.

None of those happens, the machine keeps ringing on her desk, her heart slams against her ribcage, and her hands tremble yet again as she types numbers on her keyboard.

The vibrations cease after a while, but the cramps in her stomach don’t.

-

During her lunch break, Hanji goes out to the terrace for some fresh air. It is early spring; the weather is not quite cold but it’s somewhat chilly. The wind which blows occasionally disperses her hair as she leans her elbows on the railing. The terrace is high up on the building. She can easily watch the white, mushy clouds on the smooth, blue sky. Whether it is funny or tragic she cannot decide, that after all those years whenever she looks up at the sky, she still thinks about him.

“Yo, Hanji.” Zeke Jeager comes to stand next to her putting a cigarette on his mouth and using his Zippo to light it.

“Good afternoon, Mr Jeager,” Hanji greets, smiling in return as the man takes a deep breath from his smoke. His dark, yellow hair is untidy with the wind, and his glasses reflect the midday sun.

“Just call me Zeke when we are alone,” he says and shakes the ashes of the cigarette with his index finger causing them to fall from the railing. “I hate formalities.”

“But you are my very superior,” Hanji replies with amusement.

The corners of the man’s lips curl upwards when he takes another breath from his smoke. “I don’t care. You are almost as smart as me if not more.” He sends her a playful stare as he blows the smoke and Hanji laughs, but the act makes her stomach curl onto itself. Cheerfulness is the last thing she feels at the moment.

“You seem a little bit… different,” Zeke comments, just like Hanji predicted. Nothing escapes him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Hanji lies easily. She doesn’t feel like talking about it. She doesn’t even feel like thinking about it. It makes her uneasy, and it fills her with apprehension and distress whenever the name on the phone screen comes before her eyes. She shakes her head. She needs to convince herself first. “It’s nothing.”

“Hmm,” Zeke mutters thoughtfully. He doesn’t believe her and it’s not like she expected him to. “I mean, I won’t say no if you ever need a drink,” he shrugs, and the gest reminds her of him so much that she feels a gulp shaping in her throat.

“Are you possibly flirting with me?” Hanji asks playfully, with a need to distract her mind from the wide field of dreary thoughts and memories.

“I don’t know. Is it working?” Zeke plays along and Hanji laughs again, this time more genuinely. “But I’m your very superior, so I guess not.”

“Yeah,” she says, her smile still evident on her lips. “Don’t take it personally.”

Zeke shakes his head as he puts the smoke between his lips again. He has a nice profile. A fine line of a bearded jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft-looking, bushy hair, pretty nose and a pair of nice lips. Eyes are a light blue mixed with green. A complete opposite, Hanji notices.

“Whatever it is,” Zeke continues after blowing out the white smoke. “It’s obvious that it affects you but don’t let it affect your work.”

“Of course,” Hanji nods.

“Hanji!” A female voice cuts in their conversation. Hanji turns around to see it’s Pieck. She waves at her from the door. “What are you doing here? Let’s go have lunch!”

“Yo, Pieck-chan,” Zeke waves at her cheerfully, grinning wide as they both walk up to where she is. “How are you?”

“Hungry,” Pieck replies, then turns to Hanji. “Come on. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry,” Hanji apologizes. They always have lunch together with Pieck, but with her mind a muddle of emotions she had forgotten all about it.

“See you later then ladies,” Zeke, bids them goodbye and leaves then they both start to walk in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Is he bothering you?” Pieck asks as soon as Zeke is out of their hearing zone. “I can talk to him if he does. He is not as tough as he looks, and I have the material in my hand to sabotage him.”

Hanji laughs heartily for the first time that day. Pieck and Zeke are old friends, and she uses it every chance she gets. “There is no need for that. We were just talking but thank you.”

“Talking about what?” Hanji feels Pieck observing her face, looking for a hint. “Did he also realize that your mood is kind of sour today?”

Hanji’s smile freezes on her face. She hadn’t been as subtle as she thought she had as it seems. She opens her mouth to object, to array excuses like I’m just tired or couldn’t sleep well and change the subject.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Pieck assures, bumping her shoulder lightly to hers. “It’s just unusual to see you like this.”

“Right,” Hanji adjusts her glasses and pushes herself for a slight movement on her lips. Upwards. “There is nothing to worry about.”

Her dark eyes travel around her face, searching Hanji’s gaze and she tries hard not to look away. Pieck is suspicious and Hanji knows she is not quite convinced when she says, “Okay.” But she doesn’t press upon the matter either. “I’ll be here if you want to talk about it.”

“I know,” Hanji smiles, genuinely this time. “Thank you, Pieck.”

-

Hanji watches her reflection in the mirror and sees the reason why everyone could tell that she had been in low spirits today.

“This shouldn’t have affected me that much,” she mutters and splashes cold, icy water on her face. Her glasses rest next to the sink, the hair on the side of her face and the tips of her forehead gets wet. Her soul feels heavy to carry, her heart uneasy and her stomach like it’s wrapped with thousands of sharp thorns.

Inside her head, there is an earthquake. It rumbles, rocks and causes the old shelves stuffed with dusty memories to be dishevelled all around. Yellow paged books lie open on the ground. It has been so long since she had let herself read a word from them. Now they force her to read the tale from the very beginning. And it doesn’t help that she already knows them all by heart.

“The temperature at the sun’s core is about 27 million degrees Fahrenheit,” she whispers, gripping the edge of the cold, white marble.

“The Moon’s distance from Earth is about 240.000 miles.

The globular cluster NGC 6397 is almost as old as the universe itself.

Mercury is the fastest planet,” she continues with quick whispers. “Daytime Temperatures can reach 439 degrees Celsius and drop to -180 degrees Celsius at night.

Ceres takes 1.682 Earth days, or 4.6 Earth years, to make one trip around the sun.

Mars is the fourth planet from the Sun at an average distance of about 228 million km or 1.52 AU.”

Hanji closes her eyes and imagines the space. Infinite, black and yet aglow with suns, stars and moons—galaxies, clusters and planets.

The worn pages of the books rustle in her head. A distraction, a nuisance that came out of nowhere. Why? She thinks for the nth time that day. Why is he calling me now? After all those years, why now?

“This cannot be ill, cannot be good” she murmurs.

Then laughs to herself. Quoting Shakespeare again? he belittles her in her mind.

She shakes her head as if to erase his ghost from her mind. “Cannot be good,” she repeats. But she has never run for no reason, she has never let life win over without girding herself with arms. She has never been coward enough to hide.

It might be nothing. Maybe a simple call for a quick hello. Five minutes of conversation would do her no harm. It might be nothing, but it might be something too. There is only one way to figure it out.

She straightens, puts on her glasses and adjusts her clothes. Blinks her eyes a few times until she makes sure they are not blank as an empty, grey wall. Until the fire inside that is close to dying out, flare up again. After that, she lifts her hands to either side of her face and slaps her cheeks, “Okay,” she says, nodding at herself in the mirror.

Then turns around on her heels and walks out of the door.

-

He calls again when she is out of work and waiting for a bus at the stop.

She is tranquil, somehow, as she looks at the screen. Maybe it’s because she has made her mind earlier today that if he is to call again, she would answer this time. And she does.

“Hey,” she greets.

“Hey, Hanji.” His voice is rough and coarse. It sounds older than she has last heard him. “What’s up?”

“I’m fine,” Hanji swings a leg absentmindedly. “How about you, Kenny?”

“’m fine too,” Kenny replies. She tries to imagine him with long, dark hair and a smug grin on his face. Although the years had rubbed out the picture of the man she has known it is easier than she had expected.

“Sorry, I couldn’t answer earlier,” Hanji says, half-lie, half-sincere. “I was busy at work.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, kid,” Kenny slides over and Hanji smiles slightly at the way he calls her. “I thought you’d be busy. But, eh, you see… I had to… call you,” he sighs. “Didn’t know who else to call.”

“Why?” She starts to feel the thorns again. Her body tenses involuntarily. A car sweeps by scattering her hair and clothes. “What’s wrong? Is he—"

Kenny sighs again and she hears his breath tremble. Above, the stars are hidden behind the grey, mobile clouds. The moon is a thin crescent. Strangers pass by, a bus stops, takes a few passengers and carries on. A breeze blows and the leaves rustle.

And Hanji feels like she is eleven again, watching the stars with a boy she barely knows.

You can’t count infinity, he had said. It is a waste of time.

They are no longer there.

“Kuchel,” Kenny begins. Cannot be good, Hanji thinks again and closes her eyes as he goes on with the dreadful news she had so feared to hear. “She is dead.”

--

The girl has stardust in her eyes.

Her hair is messy, and her clothes are dirty with mud and dust. She wears round glasses and when she smiles, he sees one of her upper teeth is slightly twisted.

And she reminds him of the first time he had seen a shooting star.

Do you want to learn more about the sky? The girl asks. Does he? He had never thought about it. He merely likes the experience of watching it while sitting or lying on his back with his arms under his head and a leg over the other in this abandoned, derelict building. It eases his mind when he is overwhelmed with school or family or friends or humans in general. He had most liked the fact that he had been alone all this time which was the actual purpose of this place anyway.

But the girl has stardust in her eyes, and she is like that shooting star, and she holds the moon in her hands.

If she reminds him that much of the sky maybe she would make him feel like he is watching it too, he thinks as he looks back above and shrugs.

Cannot be ill.

[secondhand-trash]

Servant and the Red Chicken

A/N: Haven’t writen a full length fic since Christmas and this happened after I saw this post and I was like “Hawks??? Is that you???”. Love me a fairy tale au so here you go with this kinda half crack half serious thing I came up with.

Pairing: cursed prince!Takami Keigo x reader

Description: Rumours of the prince who suddenly disappeared casted a shadow across the palace. But that was none of your business, you were just a servant trying to make a living. Rather than the royal gossip, you would much get answers to why there was a loud chicken following you around the palace grounds.

Word count: 4150

Playlist:

Beautiful Loser//Bob Seger

Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa//Vampire Weekend

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

-

Life in the palace was not easy. You got up before the sun barely showed its face every day and spent the coming hours with your hands soaked in cold water filled with substances that were probably not safe for the human body. If you were lucky, you might be able to get some scraps from the kitchen on top of the hard slice of bread that was both your life line and your salary but that was under the condition that no one was there to catch you sneaking in. If you slipped and got caught, well good luck to you I supposed, have fun being hit by a wooden stick. The bed you returned to after a day of hard work was more like a hard board. It was fine in summer but when the winter frost hit, it was like sleeping on plain ice. There were more rules in the palace than you could remember, some you never even heard of until you got yelled at for making a mistake. Getting yelled at was the least painful punishment as you were told by other servants in your quarter, chances were you might lose your head if you crossed the paths of the wrong person.

Basically, being a peasant in the royal court was tough but hey, at least you had a job that lets you shove something down your stomach every day and even have extra coins to send back to your family. Behind the tall walls and expensive velvet were many rumours and mysteries but you had learnt to never ask questions, satisfying your curiosity was not worth risking your life.

The royal family of the kingdom was the favorite topic of gossips among servants and others who happened to go in and out of the palace gates. There was a great risk in talking about the power above, but that was the charm of it you guessed. People would always be attracted to danger, it was only human nature. The hot topic when you just step foot into the palace was the mystery of the missing prince who disappeared over night. Still being new and learning the ropes, you didn’t say anything when the other servants chattered while sitting in a circle and rinsing the linens. From what you had heard, the prince had opposed his father in marrying the new queen, his stepmother which led to a lot of arguments and tension in the royal family when it happened. The wedding went on as scheduled against the prince’s protest, which you knew because that was what the entire kingdom was talking about in that one month of non-stop celebration. It was only a coincident that the king’s only son went missing right after the night of the wedding with no trace to be found. The royal guards were still searching for his whereabouts but there was no progress.

Rumours were that it had something to do with the queen. Those of power often overlooked the measly servants they shoved to the side but it was always those who were unnoticeable that knew the most. Someone said that they found what might be tools for witchcraft in the queen’s chamber which stirred the theory that the prince was cursed by the queen for a hot second. But rumours went as rumours did, the people quickly stopped talking and focused on something else the moment anything more recent and exciting surfaced. The missing prince was quickly glossed over by the newest gossip that the count’s daughter were making plans to run away with her handmaiden.

In retrospect, you didn’t really care much about these quick whispers. It was not like the royals would have anything to do with you, a servant, anyways. They were just something harmless bored workers talked about to make thier hard life more exciting and that was what it was to you. Even if you were curious to know more, you knew better than to ask questions. There were more practical things to wonder about other than who was bedding who and how the ladies in waiting tried to impress the queen.

For example, why the hell was there a red chicken running around the royal courts and why did it like to follow you around so much?

The first time you ever saw the red chicken was when the head of the servants’ quarter, Mrs Carter, was taking you around the place. She was a chubby lady in her late 40s, stern at first look but you would soon realise that she was way softer inside than she let it out to be. Making your way to the kitchen, she explained each station and everyone you needed to know as she walked in front of you in such a speed that you had to sprint to keep up.

“This is Marinette, the one who makes all the butter around here. That’s the cutting station, we start preparing ingredients for dinner at 4 each day and you might be asked to help in the kitchen when needed. Please go speak to... Where is Paul? Oh there he is. Paul at noon each day to see if you are needed...” 

Desperately trying to memorise each detail and all of the new faces, you felt like your head was about to explode. Being in a whole new environment was terrifying, let alone the palace where the kitchen was already bigger than the town square from where you were from. 

You were so close to seeing white when Mrs Carter suddenly screamed. Jumping from her high pitched screech, you could barely react when the entire kitchen went into a state of chaos.

“It’s the chicken! The damn chicken is here again!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and grabbed whatever they could get at their hand. It was madness as people ran around, pots falling to the ground and everything went flying. That was when you saw a red blur sprinted across you, nearly knocking you off. The blur was fast, jumping onto counters and passing the dozens of people who were trying to catch it with whatever they could find. The pastry chef swung the rolling pin but missed and hit the milk maid instead, someone tried to trap it with a pot but tripped over. There were shouts and screams everywhere but as you stood there, completely dumbfounded, you caught a glimpse at the kitchen window to see a red chicken with a piece of bread at its beak. How did it got there in such a short amount of time? You blinked as the bird flapped its wings and hopped off of the window frame, leaving the absolute wreck it created behind.

“Where did it go? Urgh! We let it run away again!” Mrs Carter yelled, her face was an angry shade of red as she looked around the mess. “The goddamn... Never mind! What time it is? Christ! We are late! Quick, follow me. Now don’t just stand there, catch up!”

You snapped out of your haze and ran across the room to go into the next doorway, still thinking about that sly chicken if it even had the ability to be sly.

For some reason, that little accident in the kitchen might just made the nerve in your chest disappear.

As you slowly eased into the busy courts and your role as a servant, your confusion as to why there was a red chicken running around only grew. It seemed to be anywhere chickens should probably had no way getting into. The laundry room, the servants’ quarter, the Royal Guard’s training field... Anywhere with people it could bother, it would be there at the most random times and it was sure to cause chaos. After some mindless observation, you had come to realise that the red chicken took a liking to messing with anything that had to do with the king and the queen. It was like it knew the structure of the palace at the back of its tiny, feathery head. Whenever the queen would stroll around the royal gardens with her ladies in waiting, the chicken would show up to run across everything. Whenever screeches and yelps passed over to where you were, you knew that the chicken was at it again. It was also loud, very loud in fact and the noises it made were rather chirpy for the being it was. 

Oh, and also, you felt like the chicken recognized you now. After that chaos in the kitchen on your first day, the red chicken would always be there whenever you were alone. You were wary at first, worried that it might cause trouble for you and in turns got you some ruthless beating, but it was oddly calm every time that you had come to accept that being followed by a red chicken was simply part of your life now. Every time you were on your way to another manor or in the woods for errands, you bet the chicken would show up and walk with you. You could not believe that you were saying this but the chicken was actually a nice company if it wanted to be. If you said anything. it would flap its wings and chirp in response. You were certain that the stress had gotten to you but you were convinced that it might understand what you were saying. When you had time in your hands, you would bent down and stretch the chicken’s head to which it would coo so you assumed that it liked pets. 

Now that you thought about it, wasn’t it a bit strange that the chicken was nicer to you than it did everyone else? Well, the chicken was your friend now and it was not like you were complaining. We did not ask questions around the palace and if a red chicken wanted to be your friend, might as well accept it and bring it breadcrumbs as a token of thanks.

But a chicken runnigng around causing chaos was not something of your concern right now as you carried a huge pile of linens in hand, the fabric so tall that you could barely see in front of you. Trying to make out where you were going, your eyes lowered to look at the ground to make sure that you were still walking on the path and there was nothing tripping you over. With the heavy weight at your hands, the only thing on your mind was to get to the laundry room quickly and dropped it off there. Barely able to walk in a straight line, you silently cursed at how the road to your destination seemed to be so much longer than usual.

Another thing worth nothing about the palace was that it was ridiculously huge with many pathways zigzagging everywhere. Make one wrong turn, then you might found yourself walking around in an endless circle towards every direction but the one you were supposed to be heading. If you had remembered this, you would have taken a pause in the middle of the unusually long road and look at your surroundings. If you had done that, you would notice that you were nowhere near the laundry room and in fact, you were starting to head into the woods. But with the ache in your arms, that was simply not something your running mind thought off.

“Bok!

Suddenly, you looked over the pile of linens to see a pair of red wings hopping out of the bush. As the chicken wobbled its way across to you, it tilted its head as if you ask you where you were going. 

You sighed. “Not now! My arms are so close to giving up and I need to get to the laundry room.”

“Buck!” The chicken flapped its wings and pecked at your shoe, standing in the middle of the road behind your back.

Struggling to even turn around, you groaned. “I promise I’ll come back later when I have time, ok? But I have to leave now!”

“Kahcaw!” The chicken pulled at the bottom of your apron when it saw that you had no intention to turn around. 

“What is it?” You yelped. It seemed like it wouldn’t let you go anytime sooner. “Are you hungry?”

“Kah!”

“No? Then do you want pets?”

“Kah! Kah!”

“I’m so confused! What do you want?” You exclaimed. The chicken seemed to be panicking, if that was something it was capable of doing, and flapped its wings while running in a circle. Looking at it, you finally glanced at where you were and realised that you were very lost. 

Was it trying to help you?

“Are you trying to tell me where to go?”

“Bok!” The chicken seemed to be delighted that you finally understood what it wanted and started walking down the path. Were you really going to follow a chicken? You thought to yourself, but it was not like you had much of an option anyways. Gritting your teeth to find the last bit of strength in you, you walked behind the chicken towards a direction you had never been on. It was nice enough to stop and wait for you to catch up every once in a while. It was only a matter of time before you saw the laundry house from down the road.

You were made sure to bring extra bread with you so you could have something to thank the chicken for helping you out but it only left you with more questions clouding your head as to why it knew its way around the grounds so well.

The court was a dangerous place to be in, if it wasn’t already established by how you nearly got lost in the woods and needed a red chicken to come save the day. It wasn’t just the dark roads and the many rules that made each step you took require extra attention to it, the people rushing in and out every day might just be a lingering threat as well. You could never be too careful, as people said. Sometimes, one quick moment you let your guard down was enough for a life-long mistake to be made.

As you rushed back to the sleeping quarters with nothing but a dim oil lamp in your hand, you cursed at how you were foolish enough to go out without bringing a shawl with you. The palace could be awfully scary at night which was something that everyone knew of, the fact that you were ordered to deliver something to the carpenter who lived in the middle of the woods when there was no way you could make it back before dawn was yet another reason why you were certain that the temporarily person-in-charge had something against you. Mrs Carter was away in town to handle some errands for the house keeper and the moment you saw the lean man walked into the kitchen, you knew that he would be trouble for you. What exactly had you done to make him hate you so much? You seriously had no clue but it was not like a proper reason was needed for anyone to make your life miserable anyways.

You shivered when the wind hit you in the face. You did not want to be here, you did not want to be here at all. You missed Mrs Carter, at least she had always been kind enough to make sure that everyone would get back to the quarters safely.

Something about the pitch black road made you felt unease even though you were certain that you were on the right track. Perhaps it was your own paranoia but you had a faint sense of danger lurking at the back of your head.

Was someone following you? 

Your pace quickened at the thought and you held the oil lamp higher to your face as if it was any help. The shadows from the trees seemed to become taller and the end of the road was nowhere to be seen. Every time the wind blew across the leaves, the rattling it left only made you skin crawl. You forced yourself to think of something pleasant, something that would kept your lingering thoughts at bay. Think of the bed, think of the other people greeting you once you arrived at the door, think of the fire crackling in the kitchen, think of the red chicken that might show up next morning during breakfast, think of-

“Don’t move or I’ll slit your throat!”

The oil lamp dropped as you were suddenly yanked back, a hand covering your mouth and something cold pressing against your neck. It was like your pulse paused right then and there, you could not find the strength to scream if you dared. 

“Hand over everything you have with you!” It was a voice you had never heard of, one that was rough and domineering enough to convince you that whoever it was holding the blade across your neck, they would not hesitate to end you if it comes down to it. 

Your blood curled when you remembered that you had nothing valuable with you. Was that what it had come to? Everything you had worked so hard for only to have you dying alone in the woods with no one to discover your body until the next time someone crossed the path far away from the main buildings. It was late and no one would be here to help you. 

Dear god if you are listening, you prayed as you shut your eyes tight to prepare for the inevitable pain, please sent someone, something, anything...

“Babok!”

You could not believe your eyes when you saw a large object hitting the burglar. The man pushed you to the ground with the sudden attack and when you finally gathered your breath, still not yet calmed down from the scare you just experienced, you nearly tear up at the sight of the big red bird that was aggressively flapping its wings at the burglar.

The burglar waved his knife in the air as the chicken jumped to chase him away. The man let out a loud yelp when the chicken succeed in biting his nose and swung the bird to the ground before scurrying away with a bleeding nose.

Your breath paused when you saw that the chicken was not moving and you used all your might to get the oil lamp that was rolled to the side before crawling to where the chicken was. Taking a closer look, you gasped when you lifted the lamp so see its feathers being tainted by a much darker shade of red than its own feathers. There was a huge cut at its chest, and you winced at how you could see the flesh underneath the cut through feathers.

“Oh no.. Oh no no no...” Quickly putting the lamp down, you tear off a corner of your apron to press onto the wound, “Please don’t die on me, please...”

The chicken’s chest raised slowly as it let out a weak “Bok”. Trying to hold it without touching its wound, you placed the chicken onto your lap as you caressed its head. Even with its final breaths, it still tried to rub onto your fingers as if to tell you not to worry but the sight only made your heart wrench.

It had risked itself to save you and now it was dying in your arms. Your nose ached at the sight when you sniffled. “I’ll get you somewhere, we can find something to patch you up! So please just stay with me, stay with me...”

The sobbing was no longer contained when you felt its head went limp in your hand. In the middle of the woods, all that could be heard was the sound of wind howling and your cries echoing through the trees. There would be no one waiting for you when you carry linens to the laundry house anymore, your stomach twisted together when you thought of how the red chicken would no longer show up to wreck havok and made you laugh anymore.

Amidst your tears, you did not feel the shifting at your lap, passing it off as the wind. It was only when you felt something that resembled a human finger wiping away your tears that you blinked and opened your eyes at the sudden touch. The red chicken that was placed on your lap was there no more. Instead, you saw a head of golden hair and the face of a handsome young man staring back at you. You were too shocked to say anything as the man continued to caress your teary cheeks with his thumb.

“What?” You managed to choke out in between your heavy breaths. Were you dreaming? But the warmth from the hand and the weight at your lap felt way too real for it to be a fragment of your own imagination.

“Don’t cry for me,” the man smiled when he saw that your crying had stopped, “it would pain me to think that such a lovely face is filled with sorrow because of me.”

Taking another look at the man, the blonde curls and the golden eyes along with the handsome feature looked way too familiar. It only hit you that this was the same face you had seen in the royal portraits when you cleaned that corridors every morning when you saw the badge symbolisng his status pinned in front of his battered up shirt.

“You’re the missing prince...” Your eyes widened in shock at the realisation, “but you were also the red chicken...”

“Hello, darling.” The prince chuckled but winced when he moved the cut at his chest and you instantly pressed the fabric to it once again to stop the bleeding. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to the castle.” You said as you put an arm at his back to help him up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” You said, your voice laced with concern. How strange that you didn’t care so much that you were talking to the crowned prince of the kingdom, all that was on your mind was the red chicken who had helped you time after time.

“Would you still rub my head when after I turn back?”

“...you’re bleeding.”

“I know.” The chicken, or should you call him the prince now, hissed through his teeth as he pouted, “But would you?”

You sighed, something never change and in all honesty, you were very glad that he didn’t seem to act much differently than he did when he was still had wings. “Of course.”

Your heart fluttered when the prince beamed.

You were not surprised at all when you walked into the kitchen the next day to hear people rambling on about how the prince had returned and the dramatic ending to the case of his disappearance. Turned out, the queen hired someone to curse Prince Keigo and transforming him into a chicken, the only way to turn him back was tears of genuine love for the prince. When you heard the maids talking about who could possibly the one to break the curse for the prince, your heart leaped out of your chest to which you brushed it off as nothing when they asked. No one needed to know about your little encounter in the woods with the red chicken the previous night. 

Everything escalated from there. After a lot of investigation, the queen’s crimes were confirmed when the Guards caught the warlock who performed the curse for her and she was to be executed. 

You were glad that the prince made it back safely, but a part of you missed your feathery friend. You nearly cried tears of joy when the prince, who insisted that you called him Keigo instead of all the formalities, waited for you at the pathway like he used to when he was still the red chicken. Pulling him into a tight hug, it was only later when he pressed a chaste kiss to your hand like the pecks he would give you with a grin that you remembered he was no longer a farm animal but a young man your age. The mad blush that spread across your face only seemed to make him do it more often than before.

So with the prince’s return, the rumour was settled and everything returned to normal. But rumours went as rumours did, and there would never be a day when the palace grounds could go without any new gossip being passed around by everyone. The most recent gossip by the way, in case you were curious to know, was that the prince’s newly betrothed spouse, who the prince was madly in love with, used to be the young servant who carried linens to the palace’s laundry house.

[theyearoftheking]

Book Seventy-Six: The Institute

“Great events turn on small hinges.”

Another long day of travel (and the subsequent next day off) gave me plenty of time to fly through this banger of a book. I think I’ve mentioned that as I read each book, I keep notes on parallels between other books, Dark Tower references, nods to the state of Wisconsin, lines that crack me up... just assorted odds and ends. One of the first notes I made was, “This book is what Firestarter SHOULD have been!” My final note is, “On second thought, Firestarter is the seed that sprouted this book.”

I also couldn’t stop thinking about Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro as I was reading. For those that haven’t had the pleasure, go read this book immediately. It has a  lot of the same psychological horror, and bonding among the characters. It’s an excellent, and short book. There’s also a movie that’s equally as haunting. I just watched the trailer again... there’s a lump in my throat. It’s cool. I’m fine. 

The Institute centers around Luke Ellis, a brilliant little boy who can also move pizza pans with his mind when he’s excited. One night, his parents are murdered in their Minnesota home, and Luke is abducted and taken back to The Institute. He wakes up in a room that looks like his...except it isn’t. He’s in rural Maine.

He ventures out of his room, and makes fast friends with the other kids in the Front Half. The kids are subject to all kinds of tests, and receive tokens they can later use for snacks and mini bottles of alcohol from the vending machines. The kids living in The Institute are considered TK (telekenetic) or TP (telepathic); and life is okay on the Front Half. The Back Half is where the last of the powers are sucked out of kids and they reside in a cringy place called Gorky Park. Steve uses the term “gork” a lot in his books. Makes me cringe every damn time. 

Luke is a smart kid, and eventually manages to escape The Institute and hide out in a boxcar all the way down to DuPray, South Carolina where he meets Tim Jamieson and tells him his incredible story about The Institute. Tim works for the DuPray police department, and takes Luke in to tell his story. 

Meanwhile, The Institute baddies are trying to track Luke down. They have spies all over the country ready to look for any runaways, and sure enough- one in DuPray reports Luke. 

There’s an epic showdown, where all the townspeople of DuPray show up with guns, and -one of the greatest characters ever, Orphan Annie, announces- “You’re in the South now!” 

After spending almost a week in Florida, I couldn’t help but laugh. In case we didn’t know about the southern setting, Steve also mentions The Waffle House. I’m on day two of a diet reset, and would kill someone for a pecan waffle and Diet Coke. 

The kids at The Institute use their collective powers to basically blow the place up, and many of the kids from the Front Half are able to go live with their relatives. I wouldn’t say it’s the happiest ending, but the good guys (and their arsenal of weapons) eventually win in the end. 

While this book is different, there are a few key reminders that this is in fact a Steve novel:

The ever-present chambray work shirt

Early on, Tim is staying in a hotel room and Steve writes, “The room’s one picture- an unsettling composition depicting a sailing ship crewed entirely by grinning and possibly homicidal black men- hung crooked. Tim straightened it, but it immediately fell crooked again.” This reminds me of a line early on in The Gunslinger, when Steve writes that Roland is, “...the sort of man who would straighten pictures in strange hotel rooms.” 

Jerusalem’s Lot is mentioned

“On the beam” is used

Orphan Annie is compared to a “gunslinger”

Oh! And there’s even a Wisconsin mention! A Wisconsin highway during a blizzard. Y’all... that’s something we have a lot of experience with right now... let me tell you... we’ve had an entire winter’s worth of weather crammed into three weeks. Despite the rodent weatherman’s predictions, we’re really hoping to see spring sometime soon. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 47

Total Dark Tower References: 71

Book Grade: A-

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

Next, we travel back in time to read The Outsider. I read it once and loved it, and I hope to watch the series on HBO soon. In a perfect world, you’ll see a blog post on that someday as well. But don’t hold your breath. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca 

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Glamour - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif isn’t mine]

Originally posted on my AO3 account.

Geralt is observant. His job calls for it, Jaskier supposes. He’d be a pretty shit Witcher if he was killed by a monster who managed to sneak up behind him in the thickets.

It was probably something ingrained into him during the trails and mutations. Travelling around the Continent together only gave Jaskier an insight into how sharp the Witcher’s instincts really were. He heard things that Jaskier didn’t. In taverns, he would be able to tell what people were talking about at each table: even those who would give them side-eyes and keep their whispers to themselves. The noise always got to him. Jaskier noticed how Geralt could only be in one place for a certain amount of time before the noise grew deafening.

And on most nights, he doesn’t even think that Geralt sleeps. He has every ability to sleep. After a particularly long trek in between towns and cities, or even after a round of lovemaking, Geralt sleeps. But sometimes, noise keeps him awake: the creaking of a floorboard, crows cawing outside, or even the distant hum of conversation floating up to the upstairs rooms of inns.

So Geralt could be one of the most observant people that he’s ever met.

But, gods divine, could he be dense.

Emotional constipation and an incredibly short temper aside, it’s the little things that manage to slip by.

Though, in Geralt’s defence, Jaskier has been wearing a glamour for most of his life. In fact, the more he thinks about it, he isn’t entirely sure when the glamour was placed in the first place. He can remember the first time he saw a mage in his mother’s drawing-room, pouring over some old, leather tome on his lap. He remembers his mother beckoning him over, explaining that the mage was a friend. That Jaskier was ill, apparently. And the mage was very good at making sure that Jaskier would always be healthy and safe.

It wasn’t until he got a bit older, when the glamours started to flicker and fail, did he realise what his mother meant by all of that.

He imagines how the whole thing would have sounded: the Viscountess de Lettenhove had, at some point, fallen into an elf’s bed. The union produced a halfbred bastard – something entirely concealed at Jaskier’s birth, when the Viscountess demanded that the mage be in the room with her, when an army of midwives requested that he stay well out of the business of ladies.

But he understands now.

She just wanted to keep him healthy. And safe. For all that his father knew, Jaskier was his, and that was that. How could he have thought any differently? Especially with the help of the mage who, for all he knew, was only there to monitor the health of his son.

It’s only for his ears. That was the only thing abnormal – though, Jaskier never really liked that word. But he could never find a word that did match how he felt about the entire thing. The faintest arch of the top of his ears: too faint to be belonging to an elf, but enough of an arch to set him apart from human men. Enough of an arch to earn looks.

And he definitely wasn’t the only one who wore glamours. If people actually paid attention and looked, they would be able to see them everywhere.

And it’s not like Geralt hasn’t seen him bare. If anything, he knows the plains of Jaskier’s body better than most. People he had only spent nights with, he didn’t care much for them. They only saw what they were interested in seeing and that was it. Lovers he kept for longer started to scout, but Jaskier never kept them around for long enough to actually map.

Geralt is the only one that holds that kind of information.

And not once did he ever think, or give the inkling of a thought, that Jaskier might have been something else than human.

His ears stayed covered, glamoured to have a rounded arch – a human arch – for most of his life. That was one thing he could hide. Other things were more complicated.

Then Jaskier arrived at the conclusion that Geralt of Rivia was either very bad at acknowledging the passing of time, or he knew what Jaskier was, and made no mention of it.

And Jaskier, knowing Geralt for as long as he has, he’s absolutely convinced that it’s the former.

He met the Witcher when he was starting to claw his way out of his teens. And ageing had kept up well with him; he might have looked like a young eighteen-year-old, but he was eighteen years old nonetheless. And his half-elven blood allowed him to trudge through the years, gaining small little tokens with each year that passes. His skin does start to dull, after a time, and albeit not too noticeably. The faintest of lines scratch at the corners of his eyes and lips. But his blood kept him just out of the reach of whatever claimed other people his age. Or other people that should have been his age. He watched as other people gained white hairs and their muscles starting to slink away. He’s not going to lie and say he didn’t feel a modicum of joy at seeing Valdo Marx squinting at a tome in the middle of Oxenfurt library, adjusting his spectacles, and then huffing when he couldn’t make out anything no matter how close he pulled the book to his face.

Hiding what he was only became complicated when he found himself injured.

Something he can’t hide is how well his body can knit itself back together again. Elf blood is good at extending a life – either through shooing away the effects of time, or making sure that the body it inhabits doesn’t do anything too stupid to kill itself.

He’s never sustained an injury for something like that to be shown. If anything, it’s a very good testament to how well Geralt protects him. The most he’s ever gotten while out on the Path are collections of cuts and bruises – all of them disappearing within a couple of days.

This, though. Jaskier grunts as Geralt lifts him up the last couple of stairs. This could be more difficult.

Then again, it’s the last fucking thing on his mind at the moment.

“Thank you for your help, Witcher!” their contractor calls up the staircase. He’s still covered in rainwater, dripping it on to the floorboards at his feet. Rubbing some manticore blood off of his brow, he offers them both a grateful smile. “I’ll be sure to tell the town about how your deeds here tonight!”

Geralt grunts and takes Jaskier further down the landing, towards their own rented room for the night. As soon as he drags the bard inside, he ushers them both over to the bed. Geralt pulls at the blankets, tossing them down towards the foot of the bed. On the dry mattress, he sets Jaskier down. “Stay here,” he says firmly before wandering over to his bags.

If his lungs didn’t feel like they were caved in, Jaskier would muster up enough air to shout at his Witcher. Where the fuck would I be going? A manticore corpse fell on me. Because of you and your hunting partner not looking where you’re going. Do you know how disgusting that is: a corpse falling on you? Do you know how heavy those fuckers are?

He can’t verbalise it: so staring at the man across the room will have to do. It could have been worse. He’ll give the Witcher that. He could have been pierced by teeth or claws. But gods divine, his right side feels like Roach kicked it. There’s a hefty and deep bruise. He’s sure of it. And possibly a cracked or broken rib.

Or a punctured lung.

Geralt gathers what he needs; a collection of salves and ointments all encased in glass vials and bottles. He sets them at the edge of the bed. As soon as one of the vials is uncapped, Jaskier nose wrinkles. A pungent scent of tea tree coats the roof of his mouth. He turns his head away, staring at the wall at the other side of the room.

Geralt gathers some of the salve in his palm, warming it up a bit, before smearing it along the worst of the bruise. A sharp hiss leaves Jaskier. It might be nothing, but he’s sure that he hears Geralt mutter a soft sorry under his breath.

His blood will knit himself back together again. But it never dulls pain. A design flaw if ever he saw one: living with Geralt is a hazard to his health and wellbeing.

Night fell quickly. Though, winter has long since settled over the Continent, shielding the land from the sun for the past couple of weeks. Any light that does manage to fight its way through the thick, grey, heavy clouds doesn’t last long. The days have grown shorter and the nights stretch out longer. The hunt started when a sun still sat high in the sky. But rainclouds tumbled in, and soon night fell and in all, it has just been a wholly unpleasant day.

With their room only lit by the hearth’s fire and candles sitting on tables, Geralt works mostly in darkness. His eyes aren’t back to their normal gold just yet. Some small trace of black still clings on. Jaskier stares at the wall, holding his breath when Geralt’s hand drifts over a spot that took most of the hit.

Time drifts by. Jaskier blinks when the lip of a glass vial is suddenly set at his lips. “Drink this,” Geralt says gruffly. Jaskier can smell it. Poppy’s milk. It’ll dull the pain, and possibly put him in a coma for the next few days if he takes too much. He lets Geralt tip the vial, judging how much of the potion the bard needs.

Jaskier only tastes a drop of it on his tongue before the vial is gone. He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “This stuff is addictive,” Geralt frowns, putting the vial away completely.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “I know that,” he sighs, wincing slightly when Geralt prods at the bruise at his side. “Bards are rarely sober. Especially when they’re in college.”

At that, Geralt lifts an eyebrow. “Did you raid your professors’ opium gardens yourself, or?”

A light laugh leaves Jaskier, though he quells it when his lungs start to tighten. “Gods, no. We would have been found out. They had those gardens on lockdown. We...just became very friendly with passing traders.”

Geralt snorts. He works silently, offering the occasional apology whenever Jaskier’s face screws up in pain. It’s been ebbed with the potion, but it still hurts when Geralt presses his fucking fingers into his ribs—

“It’s not broken,” he says after a time. “But it could be cracked.”

“Then stop poking it.”

“Are you like this with physicians?”

“I never see physicians so I wouldn’t know.”

A small frown creases Geralt’s brow. “You don’t see physicians?”

Jaskier’s tongue swells in his mouth. “...No?”

“I can’t say I’ve met a human with such a strong immunity then,” Geralt goes back to his work. There’s a new ointment now; crushed arnica petals, with a strong scent of pine wafting off of it.

You love the Witcher, something in his brain whispers to him. In an otherwise quiet room, he flinches. The thought seems loud enough that it could be heard within the room. But Geralt offers another apology, before smoothing out the last of the salve. You love him. And he loves you. Shouldn’t you tell him?

And it occurs to him, just then, that outside of his mother, a long-since passed away mage, and himself, that no one knows. He’s never told anyone.

Swallowing a lump clawing up his throat, Jaskier rasps. “Maybe it’s because I’m not human.”

Geralt’s hands still over Jaskier’s skin.

He rushes to amend. “Well. I’m half-human. My mother is human.” Jaskier chews the inside of his cheek. “My father...I don’t know who he is. By all accounts, I suppose, Father is my father. He didn’t suspect anything else. But in a biological sense,” why is Geralt staring at him, “Mother told me that he was an elf. But...I don’t know who he is.”

And if the room wasn’t quiet before, it’s certainly quiet now.

“Say something,” Jaskier breathes. “Please. Stop staring at me and say something. Anything.”

And he swears he can see pieces fitting together in Geralt’s brain. It’s a long time before anything resembling a word leaves Geralt’s mouth. “We’ve known each other for so long. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Jaskier lifts a shoulder – as much as he’s able without his ribs hurting. “It never came up, I guess.”

“It never-” Geralt’s mouth opens, but no more words manage to come out of it. The Witcher catches the bridge of his nose between his fingers before sighing heavily. When he’s finally composed himself, he looks back to Jaskier’s body. “So you’ll heal?”

“Quicker than most,” Jaskier nods, “but not as quick as your lot, I imagine.” He hasn’t dashed out the room yet, or jumped out of the window. That’s good.

Geralt hums. His eyes still run over every stretch of exposed skin lain out before him. The bruise really only takes up one side, spreading from the peak of his hip bone to the foot of his ribs. It’s been almost an hour and it’s already beginning to change colour. What was once red and blue is now turning yellow around the edge. His body is starting to knit himself back together again. And with whatever salves Geralt smeared on him, he’s sure that the worst of it will be gone in a few hours.

Jaskier lifts a hand to Geralt’s jaw, skimming his fingers along the ridge of the Witcher’s jawline. “I’ll be fine,” he assures him. “When the sun rises tomorrow, I’ll be right as rain.”

Geralt stares at him blankly for a moment before nodding. “Alright, then.”

It’s not the nicest inn they’ve stayed the night in. But he didn’t expect much for a small trading town on the axis of a crossroads. But the pillows and mattress are soft, and the sheets are clean. And these days, that’s all he ever asks for.

Geralt has every capacity to be gentle with him. He lifts Jaskier just enough to fluff the pillows behind him, and sets him back down again. He gathers the sheets from the foot of the bed, bringing them up to Jaskier’s shoulders. “Do you want the furs too?” he asks, nodding to a collection of pelts.

Jaskier smiles. “If you wouldn’t mind. The nights are getting darker and colder.” So Geralt gathers them, spreading them out across the whole bed, but making sure that they cover Jaskier from chest to toe.

Jaskier stifles a yawn. The poppy’s milk loosens his muscles. If the bed was any softer, he thinks it might sink deeper and drown. Eyelids become heavy, making them difficult to stay awake. He does though, because Geralt is still padding around the room doing menial tasks. He stokes the fire, placing a spark-guard against it. He strips down to his underclothes and sets his armour, shirt, and breeches over the backs of two chairs.

Jaskier must mumble something that resembles a Geralt. Suddenly the scent of the Witcher is all around him. The bed dips by his side and warmth follows. “I’m here,” gentle words mumble against the shell of his ear. When they’ve settled, a peaceful sort of silence blankets over them. Geralt lies on his side, an arm folded underneath his head. His other hand sits in between them both, twitching to reach out but unsure.

“I have a cracked rib,” Jaskier mumbles, rolling his head to look down at Geralt’s hand. “I don’t have the pox.”

And the Witcher reaches out, fingers gentling along the crest of Jaskier’s collarbone. He shuffles closer, and Jaskier only hums with how warm his Witcher is. The last of the winter chill is chased away.

He’s almost asleep when he hears it. “You know what I am,” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of his chest. “And yet you still stay with me. You love me, despite all of that. Why do you think I would be any different with you?”

Jaskier sighs. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I guess even those who are prejudiced against by others can hold prejudices of their own against something else.” He hears Geralt click his tongue, shushing him. Sleep tugs at him. His body is lax and warm, and Geralt knows where to skim fingertips so sleep can creep up on him more quickly.

“Sleep now,” Geralt gentles, his thumb smoothing over Jaskier’s cheek. He drifts off to sleep like that; a chest suddenly, despite being crushed by a beast, lighter than before.

[polar534]

Slumber Party... OF DOOM!

So. Here is my submission for @johnnysfire ‘s TOH Prompt challenge. For anyone who doesn’t know the prompt chosen was “Evil.”

I asked my lovely friends from discord whether I should go emotional or lighthearted with this and they said lighthearted, so here we are. It was actually really really fun to take a topic like evil and twist it to something fun and hopefully fluffy. I had to keep a lot of things shorter then what I would’ve liked to meet the word count (spoiler alert, I still went a little over), so one day I do plan on fixing this up and making it an actual one shot, detailing the game and everything. Until then, enjoy the read! My idea going in? 

Haunted Boardgame:

(EDIT: Um so Tumblr ate and spat out some paragraphs at random the first time I posted... so hopefully everything is in its correct order. Yikes.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Pillows?" 

"Check."

"Blankets."

"Check!"

"Hot chocolate?"

3 sets of eyes turned to the green-haired witch sitting in the corner. Amity Blight was currently too busy staring at the glow that inexplicably seemed to surround Luz as she sounded off the ingredients for her perfect 'Slumber Party' to notice her companions all staring at her.

"..."

Amity's eyes shifted only slightly to the left as her ear twitched, finally noticing the silence and the fact that everyone was staring at her.

Wait.

Everyone was staring at her.

"Oh um..." Amity looked around panicked, flushing red as she realized she had completely zoned out. She quickly analyzed the scene. Willow had wrapped a fluffy blanket around herself as Gus clutched a pillow excitedly to his chest.

Right. The checklist. Refusing to look at Luz (to avoid any further embarrassment or lapses in attention), Amity quickly reached out and snatched her sound-off item. Only barely remembering what it was at the last moment, Amity somehow saved herself from the splash of scalding liquid that flew out of her mug.

"Hot chocolate, acquired!" She grinned forcibly and altogether too nervously.

Finally risking a glance up to her crush she realized that Luz was giggling, the human's eyes closed as she snicked softly against her hands.

Amity's ears pressed flat against her head as Willow chuckled to her left.

"Well that would be Amity for 'check.'" The plant witch giggled, shifting her body to face Luz excitedly. "So. What happens now?"

"Yes, what new human traditions are you going to show us? I'm so excited!!" Gus squeaked happily, crushing the pillow in arms.

Luz grinned. "Just a little more patience my friend. We've got to start this off correctly. So… if everyone would grab their cocoa, probably a little more gentler then Amity over there, then I'll begin the toast to make this the best slumber party ev-"

THUMP THUMP

Luz stopped short as all those in attendance whipped around to face the door. Amity was finally able to unhunch her shoulders and stare with the rest of her friends at the mysterious knock at the door. The human was inquisitive herself.

"Luz, I thought you said there was supposed to be no one home tonight?" Amity questioned her curiously, cocking her head slightly to the side.

Luz's brow furrowed as she got up.

"There isn't anyone home tonight."

The entire room seemed to hold it's breath as Luz approached the door and pausing for what had to be dramatic effect, opened it sharply.

"HAH! GOT YOU… absolutely nothing…"

Amity peered around Luz's body to see exactly what was going on only to be met with the same sight and disappointment. An empty hallway.

Glancing both ways in the doorframe, the human shrugged nonchalantly as she went to close the door.

"Wait!" Gus cried from behind all of them. Flinging the pillow away from him and into Willow's stomach, he jumped up and dived underneath Luz to swipe something up from the ground.

Holding it proudly over his head both him and Luz marched back into the room, the bedroom door closing softly behind them. Willow and Amity leaned in close as Gus dropped the mysterious object to the ground with a soft and dramatic thump.

"What… is it?" Willow asked curiously, inspecting what looked to be a black rectangular box that lay before them.

"Is this part of the slumber party?" Gus asked curiously as Luz picked up the box and gave it a small shake.

"Not that I'm aware of. Let's open it!" The human said excitably, turning the box over to rip it open.

"Wait!" Amity yelped, grabbing Luz by the arm to stop her. Realizing what she was doing, Amity immediately dropped the contact, blushing profusely as she pointed to a small piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground.

"A note!!" Luz's eyes twinkled, causing the blushing witch to somehow go even redder. "Amity, you should read it for us!"

"What?!" Amity choked in surprise. "Why me?!"

"You found it! Besides you have a nice voice!" Luz explained casually, shaking the box slightly and holding it up to her ear.

Amity found it difficult to breathe as she shakily grabbed the note and held it in front of her, Willow and Gus scooting forward in excitement. Trying to ignore the thundering of her heartbeat in her chest and the full attention of the room, Amity glanced down at the note.

"Dear Sleeping Party attendants! You have been called upon to vanquish the evil from within this board! Inside you'll find what seems to be a normal board game, but is actually a prison for a very powerful and evil spirit! The only way to keep it's villainy contained is to play and win the game. The world is counting on you. Good luck! Mwehehehehehe."

Amity frowned and reread the note to herself. The world? That seemed farfetched to say the least. Where did this box even come from? Who sent it to them? Looking up Amity saw the stars dancing in Luz's eyes. Her crush was sold. Gus was practically buzzing beside her.

"I've heard of objects that could be bound with spirits before, but never like this!" He babbled excitedly.

"I have! You know how many human stories are filled with things like this? How long I've been wanting to do this?!" Luz grinned, finally figuring out how to open the box.

As the top lid slid off, a cheap and busted old board fell to the ground with a cloud of dust. Flipping the box over, a pile of cards, dice and one rather large hour glass spilled out as Luz gave it one final shake. Willow automatically went to organize everything and flipping the board over Amity saw a long and complicated maze pattern. The entire board seemed to be black, with the path cutting along through it a dull, brownish red. It seemed like each square had one of 3 icons sprinkled randomly throughout. In the very, very center of the board there was some sort of design. Amity reached forward and brushed the dust and dirt away from it as Luz and Gus talked excitedly above her.

The chatter quickly faded as everyone's eyes slid to the symbol that Amity had just uncovered. It was carved into the board itself, the deep grooves of the design painted in a faded and chipped white. Luz stared curiously while Gus, Willow and Amity all exchanged a concerned look. The design was simple, a small circle, with 4 tight loops surrounding it in all 4 cardinal directions, connecting in a diamond pattern in the very center of the circle.

The Witch's Knot.

Luz looked up at the plant witch curiously, one eyebrow raised as Amity swallowed the lump that was quickly growing in her throat.

"Oooh. That's elegant." Luz cooed.

"It's not elegant Luz…" Willow breathed quietly.

"That's," Amity pointed at the symbol, "a witch's knot. It's a symbol used to ward off evil."

Luz turned her head down to the board game and nodded. "Oh I get it, because of the evviiiilll theme this game has going on right?" She chuckled lightheartedly. When no one responded in kind, the human became quiet, her grin slowly slipping off her face.

"No. You don't understand. The Witch's Knot isn't just some superstition or tradition. In the Boiling Isles it had been used as a spell, carved to literally seal away evil. It hasn't been used in centuries though." Amity explained further, staring at the ancient white symbol. A cold feeling crept up her back.

Maybe there really was something to this game.

"Well, that makes what I'm about to say next, something that I have wanted to say forever by the way, a little more somber…" Luz gulped as she grabbed the dice Willow had set aside. The human tossed them into the air, and as they all watched the cubes crash down, she spoke again.

"Let the game… begin."

***

Despite the incredibly dramatic and powerful gesture, Luz had no idea how to play the game, none of them did. Luckily for the companions, Willow eventually found the directions taped to the inside lid of the box Luz had tossed aside. They were scribbled out in child-like handwriting but they were detailed enough to understand:

- Rolling the dice will move your character that many steps forward. On the board there are 3 different symbols. These represent your obstacles, fail to complete them and you lose your life. The only way to reverse this death is for a living player to revive you by taking a detour off the fastest route. Be warned, choosing this path will waste precious time and you will be risking your own life. You may only revive one player per game.

- Each player must choose a small token to represent themselves on the board. You will work together with those around you to overcome each obstacle in your path to the sigil. The goal is to reach the end with at least one player still standing to revive the The Witch's Knot protecting us from the evil.

- You may not begin the game until you have flipped the hour glass. If the last grain drains from the timer and you have not reached the end, evil will be unleashed.

-The Board itself is enchanted to tell if the players are worthy. It will be the judge and jury for the challenges you complete.

[ ~ ] Draw a blue card and cast the correct type of magic listed on it at the board. If you fail to cast the correct spell you lose your life.

Below are the symbols you will encounter on your quest:

[ + ] Draw a pink card and complete the challenge listed upon it. If you fail to meet this challenge you lose your life.

[ * ] Draw a green card. Answer the question on it correctly to move forward. If you get it wrong you lose your life.

Now having read through the rules, everyone seemed a lot more hesitant to start.

- When your token reaches the end, the correct lines to reseal the evil will appear. Read them aloud in a strong and clear voice.

"This seems like a bad idea." Amity echoed the thoughts of everyone in the room. Her amber eyes flicked up and caught Luz's warm brown ones. The human gave her a shaky smile.

"Come on Ami," Amity had to remind herself to keep breathing at the idea of her nickname. "It will be fun. Besides… I'm not exactly itching to find out what happens if we don't play." The human admitted quietly. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the dice.

They had all chose board pieces to represent themselves from Luz's large collection of knickknacks. Luz was a small figure of Azura while Amity was Hecate. Gus found himself a tiny rubber chameleon toy while Willow fittingly found a small plastic flower. Each kid seemed to fidget with their tokens as Luz looked at them each in turn. Nodding, the human set her figure down on the start square. Immediately a buzzing sound filled the room and the dull red path illuminated itself. The symbols now glowed their respective card color.

"Well. That seems ominous." Luz laughed nervously, her eyes growing wide as the light from the path traveled towards the Witch's Knot, as it reached the chipped white paint, the symbol flashed, changing it's paint to a bright angry red. "Scratch that. That is just ominous. Is my soul about to be consumed? Did I just sell my soul to a board game?"

Willow set her piece down next, a small ring of light forming around it as the board recognized yet another player.

"Well, I wasn't really using my soul for anything important at the moment. Let's do this." The plant witch grinned and Amity watched as Luz's confidence swiftly returned.

Gus whooped and set his own piece on the board earning him a wide smile from both of his friends. Soon all sets of eyes drifted to Amity who was staring down at the note that had been originally taped to the box. She couldn't shake the horrible suspicion that someone was setting them up. Looking down at the now glowing and obviously magic board, it was clear they were already too far into the trap to back out now. Taking a deep breath she placed Hecate down right next to Azura.

"Alright. Let's do this." Amity nodded, swiftly grabbing the hour glass sitting next to her. "Is uh, everyone ready?"

"Oooh! Can I say it? Amity pleaaaseeee?" Luz jumped in suddenly, startling the green-haired witch into nearly dropping the time piece. Resetting her heartbeat, Amity handed the hourglass to Luz who grinned widely.

"Alright. This time for real. Let the game begin." The human announced as she flipped it and begun their countdown.

The dice magically floated over to Luz as soon as the first grain of sand hit the bottom of the glass. It was clear who was going first. Tossing them out in front of her Luz rolled a 3 and 5. As she reached to move her figure, it zoomed away from her hand, darting forward 8 spaces by itself. The symbol beneath it glowed a bright pink. A challenge space.

Luz grabbed a card, and the race against time began.

Gus was the first to die, his token being swallowed by the board itself after he lost his balance 2 seconds into a 5 second handstand.

Amity was the next to lose to the game. Her concentration on a fireball spell having been completely shattered by Luz's supportive hand laying on her shoulder. Amity knew it wasn't her simply being startled like Luz apologized profusely for, but there was NO way she would be explaining that today. Not over a stupid board game at least. Fate of the world or not.  

Luz and Willow were about 3/4th through the path leading to the sigil when just a few spaces ahead the path split in two. Written in very faint lettering was the words: "Forest of Revival" by the detour path. Looking down it, the companions saw every single square through the 'forest' was lined with knowledge cards. The path itself eventually weaved back to the sigil, but was easily twice as long and packed with symbols.

If they wanted to revive someone it would be a struggle. Deciding to move forward Willow rolled her dice and landed on a spell square.

"Summon a small abomination to pick up your token off the board."

The group fell silent. Willow had never been good at abominations. She slumped in defeat.

Amity had to speak up, the painful memory of her teasing hanging over the entire room.

"You've got this." She said quietly, looking anywhere but Willow.

Luz's eyes flicked worriedly towards Amity, before they turned back to Willow.

"Amity's right. I've seen you do much cooler then a little abomination." Luz cheered helpfully.

"Thanks you two, but I think we both know what happens now." Willow admitted holding a hand up and drawing a pristine circle.

The resulting pile of barely sentient goop unsurprisingly earned a negative reaction from the board and Willow's token disappeared.

Luz wasted no time grabbing the dice for the next turn. They only had about 20 minutes left.

"I'm going to revive someone." She announced, rolling the dice and moving her token into the empty space before the forest.

"Wait, Luz! The forest is full of knowledge checks. Chances are you're going to get something you haven't learned yet. And we won't be able to help you." Amity spoke up quickly.

"Yeah, well you can't really help me if you all are dead right? Look. I'll be fine. There's 12 spaces to the revive square. If I roll double sixes, I'm there."

"That's a pretty big IF Luz..." Willow said worriedly, glancing over at the hourglass.

Turns out they didn't have to be worried at all. As double sixes appeared on the dice, Azura shot forward safely through the forest and landed directly on the revive square.

"I'm reviving Amity." Luz announced decisively as the square began to glow a bright yellow and Hecate appeared beside Azura.

"Me? Why?"

"Because statistically you are the most obvious choice. Top Student and well versed in multiple different magic tracks." Gus nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Good choice Luz!"

Willow merely looked away in shame and Amity felt guilt twist at her heart.

"Well that's not exactly true, but I figure since all of us are always getting up to magic mischief that Amity should get to be a bigger part of this adventure. Plus, historically we have made a pretty good team." Luz beamed, somehow melting the tension of the entire room with her words.

She practically melted Amity face too as heat rushed to the witch’s cheeks at the compliment.

They resumed the game, getting further and further through the forest. As the sand ran down in the hour glass, Hecate and Azura inched closer towards the sigil and the evil within the board.

"1234...5...6... and 7. Nice! Just enough!!" Luz counted excitedly as the board moved her token into the final square before the Witch's Knot. She glanced worriedly at Amity who was still several spaces away and then at the hour glass with just a sliver of sand left.

They were running out of time.

Luckily the board seemed to recognize Luz's finish as a team victory and Hecate was pulled straight to the end, standing alongside her friend/rival Azura.

Two white cards appeared in front of Luz and Amity.

"Ok. So... now we just read whatever's on this card and the evil gets re-sealed?" Luz asked uncertainly, fidgeting with her card.

Amity simply stared at the white card still laying in front of her, dread building in her chest. If there was ever a time for the trap to spring... it would be now. Haunted objects like this often came with a curse, especially here in the Boiling Isles. The ancient symbol currently pulsating red in the center of the board reminded Amity that there was a chance that whatever 'evil' this board contained may be far too old and powerful to simply be sealed away by two witches in training...

"Yep. And hurry! There's not much time left!" Gus's panicked voice jolted Amity out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Amity snatched the card up and flipped it over, almost completely in sync with Luz.

"To defeat the evil within in this board, I hereby announce that-" The two read off in unison.

"... King is the greatest of all time."

"... Luz is a buttface."

The entire room fell silent as the two finished the 'spell' causing the Witch's Knot in the middle to flash a bright, blinding blue before the entire board went dim.

From the doorway the companions could all hear a malicious cackling.

Amity turned around slowly, only to see the resident demon of the Owl House rolling around on his back, laughing.

"YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACES! Oooooh. Oh nooooo! The evil of the board is going to get usssss. Wheeeeheheehehe."

"King!!" Luz reprimanded angrily, but the smile on her face gave away her true feelings. "You know, if you wanted us to play a board game you made, you could've just asked!"

The little demon pushed himself off the floor and wiped his eyes. He walked to the center of the board and kicked over the hourglass, seconds away from running out of sand.

"Psssh. Like I'd want to be involved in your silly little 'Sleep Party' thing anyways. Not that I got an invite or anything..." King grumbled.

Amity felt bad for the little guy, even if the game had them all stressed over nothing, he just wanted to feel included. Reaching forward hesitantly, knowing she didn't have the best relationship with the demon, Amity gently scooped him into her arms and coddled him.

And to both of their surprise, The King of Demons let her.

"Besides, it's not my game anyways. I just wrote those last two cards." King continued, crossing his arms defiantly from his position in Amity's arms.

Luz frowned. "But if you didn't make it then... who did?"

"I don't know. Eda just had it laying around. I found it a couple of days ago and planned this spectacular and amazing prank to pull on you guys for not inviting me. And it workkkeedd! Hah!"

Amity tensed. Nobody knew who made it? A board this enchanted had to have been made by someone.

"No, that's not right. There has to be some sort of clue, right?" Luz frowned, looking around at her friends.

"I don't know, I didn't look." The demon king shrugged before stretching out and curling tightly into Amity's chest.

"Try flipping it over? Maybe there's a name or something. That's what my dad's always do to our stuff in case it gets lost." Willow suggested helpfully.

Everyone nodded as Luz tentatively reached over and flipped the board over. On the back, faintly scratched into the cheap cardboard, were two initials and a small inscription. They had found their answer.

L + E - Vanquishing evil together. Forever.

The End