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the-tipsy-tailor · 2 years ago

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my character's no context answers:

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

Felice- Fernet Branca with one ice cube

Hiraeth- Mezcal with a cayenne salt rim

Tali- 151 rum, straight from the bottle

Saraband- something hot and cozy, like cocoa or mulled cider

Prosper- natty wine

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

Felice- long herbal baths and elaborate hairstyles

Hiraeth- bathes quickly but daily, oils his horns to keep them shiny, absentminded about anything else

Tali- what’s grooming? he goes in the sea a lot

Saraband- meticulous scrubbing, trimmed nails and clean shaven, he’s a doctor after all.

Prosper- loses sanity points if he can’t bathe every day

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Felice- book, old, rare books, the more the better

Hiraeth- he’s saving up to buy expensive magic items to stay safe, otherwise, his horse, Arian who he spoils rotten

Tali- the biggest, sharpest knives he can find

Saraband- his clinic which he shares with his sister. otherwise he lives an austere life.

Prosper- income? he gets all he needs from the hospital he works at so he’s not used t having money.

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory)

Felice- they have self harm scars that no one knows about

Hiraeth- he has blackwork snakes tattooed coiled up each arm with their heads on his neck.

Tali- he’s scarred from the lighting strike that gave him his powers

Saraband- lots of scars, several soldier tattoos

Prosper- he has a jagged scar from his left temple, across his nose and all the way down to his right ankle, from the banshee that nearly killed him in childhood

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some emotional backstory in.)

Felice- when Selene told them that they were doing the right thing staying with their new companions

Hiraeth- he was 6 and scraped his knee

Tali- every time there’s a thunderstorm. it’s so beautiful.

Saraband- when he failed to save his husband

Prosper- when he heard orry’s story

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

Felice- the only child of their absentee mom, raised by their uncle and his husband

Hiraeth- they’re smack in the middle of 25 or so adoptive kids raised by an orc paladin and her two halfling wives over about 30 years. he has one older and one younger adopted sib he grew up around the same age as since his mom’s tend to only take in a few kids at a time so they get plenty of attention

Tali- eldest, when they had a family

Saraband- Ban and his sister are twins, the only children of their mother who’s a master artificer in a line of artificers. the women of the family live in one huge building above their workshop, raising their kids in common, so he’s got cousins who might as well be siblings.

Prosper- eldest with one sister, they’re very close as their mother was very demanding and they leaned on each other to avoid her wrath.

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Felice- silk tabi boots that are charmed to be extra durable for all their travels

Hiraeth- slip on black leather short boots

Tali- he hates shoes, being a beach kid, but he wears armoured boots for adventures.

Saraband- around the house he wears soft moccasins

Prosper- knee high lace up boots in dark brown leather

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

Felice- they don’t sleep, per se, but they meditate in a hammock hung from the ceiling of their turret, with a featherbed in it, silk sheets and a down comforter, with eldridge the house griffin curled above their head, hoping the best pillows.

Hiraeth- he has the top bunk in the dormitory, above which he’s hung a topaz dragon skull, otherwise utilitarian

Tali- he has a nest in a precariously built treehouse that used to be a boat but got lodged in a tree during a big storm

Saraband- a murphy bed in the clinic, with shaman the fox on his feet and sometimes his boyfriend next to him

Prosper- a simple wood-frame bed with crisp linen sheets and a quilt his niece made him. Phinn has a donut shaped pillow on the nightstand next to him.

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.)

Felice- the Mystery of the Night, they may not be a cleric but they enjoy the opportunity to meditate deeply

Hiraeth- scribes don’t get holidays

Tali- Chankh!

Saraband- the fall harvest festival, he’s shy, but enjoys the crowds

Prosper- the turning of the year, he values the cyclical nature of the celebration, and new beginnings

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.)

Felice- they always have tea in a flask and a teacup on them, plus their spell book and the rapier that is their spell focus

Hiraeth- a pen, handmade ink, and his notebook

Tali- so many knives. just… so many knives

Saraband- a med kit, treats for the kids and shayna the fox

Prosper- phinneas the ermine, medical supplies and tools, his notebook and pens (he breaks the nibs a lot)

So my problem with most ‘get to know your character’ questioneers is that they’re full of questions that just aren’t that important (what color eyes do they have) too hard to answer right away (what is their greatest fear) or are just impossible to answer (what is their favorite movie.) Like no one has one single favorite movie. And even if they do the answer changes.

If I’m doing this exercise, I want 7-10 questions to get the character feeling real in my head. So I thought I’d share the ones that get me (and my students) good results:

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory)

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.)

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.)

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.)

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serenscarlett-moved · 2 years ago

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late night writing, not proofread bc that’s the point of wip lmao. anyways, this scene was bugging me for a while.

---

The two Wraths remained on the top floor away from the commotion as they observed the ball party couple of levels below. Neither of them felt like in the mood to celebrate the treaty success in the aftermaths of Coruscant’s sacking and the Jedi Order’s downfall.

“This doesn’t sit right with me.” Acina mused, her green eyes still glued upon the scene as the two of them were left alone to talk privately, “This could had been prevented if it wasn’t for Malgus’ interference.”

Kritanta was leaning against the column watching on with a disinterested expression, “You’re not the only one peeved about this.” He heaved a weary sigh before turning to face the dark-haired kiffar, “At least we’ll know our girls are safe and sound and not in the Emperor’s clutches.”

Acina narrowed her eyes at the pureblood, “Don’t you mean Jazzeira? It’s a pity about her amnesia, how’s Kavi taken the news?”

“Not well, I’m afraid. We just hoped we made the right decision to leave her in the Jedi’s care.” Kritanta admitted, recalling his husband’s anguish upon finding out.

“You’re certain they’ll heal her mind? Like they did to your mother?” the kiffar questioned.

Kritanta paused to think for the moment. Revan was nearly killed by Darth Malak but survived with an amnesia. If anyone could heal their mind, it’ll be the Jedi healers than the Sith--he was distrustful of Sith healers, who were willing to take advantage of a young teenager with missing memories should he and Vowrawn wanted her back home desperately.

“I’m certain they will.” the pureblood answered before quickly changing the subject, “But I’m sure you’re more worried about your own...”

“My own? Like who?”

“Valeriya.”

Acina was silent. Kritanta predicted her reaction coming--the way she stiffened upon hearing the name and closed her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Mm, thought so.” Kritanta spoke up after a pregnant pause, “Not only did she carried the same name, she also bares a striking resemblance to you and Bastila. Don’t think for the moment I don’t know anything--you disappeared for a couple of months, the arranged trips to Alderaan...”

There’s no denying it, Acina thought quietly, she knew the truth would come out eventually.

“She was supposed to be on Alderaan where she’ll be safer.” Acina explained her reason, “I wanted to give her a better life away from the Empire.”

“Except the Jedi discovered her existence.” Kritanta pointed out.

Acina turned to face the pureblood with a scowl, “That was hardly my plan, brother. All I did was to give her up for adoption to a family that wanted her.”

“But, you wouldn’t give her away if there was a reason,” the pureblood hummed under his breath and leaned away from the column, “Unless. You’re hiding her from someone other than the Emperor?”

Acina went silent again--she avoided the pureblood’s gaze as her eyes watched the commotion below. Kritanta had to get to the bottom of this truth. He needed to know, he needed to be aware who else is he protecting, not only his daughter but his niece, from.

“Alright, sister, I want answers.” Kritanta demanded, “Who’s the father?”

Again, Acina remained quiet.

Kritanta noticed the kiffar’s faraway look within her green eyes and decided to follow her gaze. He searced for her focus on the particular crowd and spotted one of the Dark Councillors amongst the group--pale, dark haired, middle aged human with a beard--glanced up to where the Wraths for a minute, catching the glimpse of Acina before being pulled away by his wife for the duration of the conversation.

Kritanta heard Acina’s somber sigh.

“Oh, don’t tell me...” Kritanta groaned upon realisation after putting two and two together, “Mortis’ the father, isn’t he?”

Acina staring after Mortis, rather pitifully, within the crowd, “He is.”

Kritanta exhaled sharply, “And you do realise that he’s married to Darth Alluress?”

“Yes.” Acina repeated.

“And you also do realise she’s one of the Emperor’s Heirs?”

“No need to remind me, brother.”

Kritanta pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud perplexed sigh. He looked like he really needed a drink after this.

“You’re in deep, fucking shit, sister.” Kritanta said with a warning tone.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother.”

#scarlett swtor writings #ch: darth acina #oc: darth kritanta

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harrysweasleys · 4 years ago

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yellow sundress // f.w

summary: fred spots you at bill and fleur’s wedding and can’t keep you off his mind.

warnings: none

word count: 3.2k

a/n: let’s all pretend there’s no war and the wedding doesn’t end horribly, shall we? (for my own sanity, of course) :) xx enjoy!

—

Fred was happy for his brother, really. Bill was always the most mature of the Weasley clan — well, according to Molly, anyways. Always boasting about how Bill had his life in order and how he’d go on to do great things. So, although Fred grew up feeling slightly envious of his big brother, today he was happy. Happy for him and happy that there was finally something for the family to celebrate.

He had found himself rather excited the morning of the wedding. Him and George had spent the night at the burrow — Molly’s orders — so they could prepare and set up the tent bright and early. Arrangements for the wedding had been made very last minute indeed, so the panic and rush was still happening hours before the happy couple were to say ‘I do.’

The early morning grass was still wet with dew drops, shimmering like little diamonds under the hazy sunshine. The field was quiet except for the occasional caw of a bird or the screech of an insect.

Though sunny, it wasn’t overly warm. Fred found it just comfortable to wear a long sleeved shirt under his waistcoat, preventing goosebumps from rising on his skin every time the morning breeze rolled around. There wasn’t much heavy lifting to be done, thanks to magic, so Fred found himself sitting back with his brothers, only ever occasionally giving a lazy flick of his wand to pitch in.

“So, no date?” Ron walked up to Fred, crossing his arms across his chest and giving his brother a small smirk as they finished pinning the tent into the ground.

Fred scoffed, “Coming from you?”

Ron rolled his eyes, “You’re older than me, you need to get a move on. Maybe you’re next,” he joked, motioning his hands to the wedding preparations.

Fred fought the urge to smack him across the back of the head, “You hilarious little git.”

Ron’s laughter echoed in Fred’s ears, a taunting reminder that he indeed did not have someone in his life. Someone that he could have on his arm right now, someone that he could end up dancing the night away with. Although Fred teased Ron about his bad luck with women, he knew his little brother fancied Hermione, and she felt the same way back. It was only a matter of time before the two ran off into the sunset together, really.

Fred scoffed at the thought of his youngest brother getting married before him.

The tent was up and ready in no time, a few of the distant Weasley cousins and some old school friends of Bill’s already underneath it, setting up tables and chairs so that there was room for people to sit.

Molly called his name from inside the house, her head sticking out of the kitchen window and her arms waving wildly; a clear sign to Fred that he should rush over.

“What is it?” he asked as he entered through the doorway, ducking his head to avoid hitting one of the wooden beams hanging low by the kitchen entrance. A beam that he had whacked his heads so many times on when he was growing up that he was surprised his Boggart didn’t turn into it when he was still in school.

“Carry these out!” Molly huffed, shoving multiple large trays of goods into his arms, her hair sticking out all over the place and her apron stained with icing and different kinds of sauces.

Fred agreed, walking ever so slowly out of the house and placing the heavy, unbalanced trays on the closest table he could find, not wishing to spill anything and unleash his mother’s wrath so early in the day. He let out a long sigh as he looked around at the ongoing preparations, the sun now higher in the sky and making it easier to do things under the bright light.

Too occupied with watching over everything, he hadn’t noticed a body approach him and stand by his side.

“Fred Weasley, as I live and breathe,” a soft voice caught Fred out of his daze, blinking his eyes to refocus as he looked down to face the person who had nearly startled him.

You were standing there, hair tied back loosely and a bright smile on your face. You were wearing a light yellow sundress, a cardigan sitting on your shoulders as you held onto a small clutch purse. Though Fred didn’t know his perfumes, he could smell a sweet mixture of honey and rose coming from your direction. A smell that Fred, up until this point, never considered to be beautiful. But as he looked down at you, your expectant eyes awaiting an answer, Fred found that everything about you was beautiful.

“Do we know each other?” Fred asked lamely, internally rolling his eyes at himself. He had a feeling that if he had seen you before, he wouldn’t have forgotten.

Your smile changed from soft to amused, “I see I didn’t make a lasting impression,” Fred felt his own lips turn downwards into a frown as you let out a small giggle, “We went to Hogwarts together.”

He scanned you up and down trying to find anything that could spark recognition, but he failed, “Were we in the same year?”

You shook your head, “I was below you. The year below you, I mean. Not — I — you know what I meant. I’m Y/N.”

Fred felt a smile take over his face as you looked down to the ground, “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

“Technically, we’ve met before,” you pointed out, a sly grin on your lips, “I was also there when the goblet of fire ejected you as an old man. Classic, really.”

Rubbing the back of his neck and laughing sheepishly, Fred cursed his younger self for acting like such a fool, “Not one of my brightest moments, I must admit.”

You let out a bubbly laugh and Fred swore he lost his breath.

“I found it amusing. Never dull, you two.”

A sense of pride buzzed in Fred’s chest, glad that he could make some amusing memories for you. Glad that you even remembered him. How Fred never noticed you while at school, he’ll never be able to answer.

“Well,” you adjusted your cardigan around yourself and gave him a little wave, “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to go help Fleur.”

Before he could bid you bye, you scurried off into the house. He heard you and Molly greet each other before the sound of your footsteps rushing up the stairs echoed throughout the house and through the open window.

A grin was still on Fred’s face long after you were gone. What it was about you, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t remember ever being so intrigued by a person before after such a short encounter. You had completely captivated him in the two minute conversation that was shared. Fred, who had made it this long without being in a serious relationship or committing to anyone, suddenly had an overwhelming urge to get to know you better.

—

Silent conversations bled throughout the seated crowd, everyone chatting quietly with the people around them as they awaited the ceremony to begin. Half of the people were familiar, but the other half were Fleur’s invites. People that none of the Weasley family had ever met — people who, as they scanned their surroundings, clearly still weren’t overly fond about having a wedding outside an old house in the middle of a field.

Old school friends gathered left and right, greeting each other and reminiscing about fond memories. Memories that, in this moment, felt so distant and gone. As if school was ages ago instead of only a year and a bit. A lot had changed over the course of twelve months

Without really knowing he was doing it, Fred’s bored eyes scanned the crowd, looking out for the familiar yellow dress. He had already greeted everyone that figured there was no point in getting up to talk if the ceremony was minutes away from starting.

“Looking for someone?” George poked him on the shoulder, a crooked smirk on his face. He couldn’t give a proper one — the bandage wrapped tightly around his head prevented him from doing so.

“Do you remember an Y/N when we were at Hogwarts?” Fred asked, eyes turning to his twin.

George nodded, “Yeah. Wasn’t she friends with Ginny and Luna?”

“Blimey, I need a better memory,” Fred frowned. He had never raked through his brain more than in the last hour, trying to find any sort of scrap, but had very little success.

“Why?” George wiggled his eyebrows, “Someone looking for her?”

Fred rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, not answering his brother. Not that he had the chance, really, as the scent of honey and rose filled his senses once again, your bright yellow dress catching his attention from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t even noticed the empty chair next to him, but as you took your seat there, he was thankful that it had been empty.

“Oh, hey,” you smiled, removing your cardigan and placing it on the back of your chair, “Were you saving this seat? Sorry, there’s nowhere else.”

“No,” Fred muttered quickly, “You can sit here.”

George let out a low chuckle and Fred imagined himself turning around and whacking him across the head. But, fortunately for George, the very image stayed in his mind.

The ceremony began shortly after, but Fred couldn’t focus much. Only when you nudged him in the side and told him to stand for Fleur’s entrance did he notice how zoned out he really was.

His cheeks and ears felt warm but he was lucky you didn’t notice, a wide grin on your face and your eyes slightly watery as you watched Fleur walk down the aisle, an equally happy Bill watching her every movement with such love in his eyes, even Fred couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming emotions.

They said their ‘I do’s’ and the ceremony came to a close an hour later, everyone clapping loudly.

You disappeared into the crowd and Fred made his way to the reception tent, finding his table and sitting with the rest of his siblings. The atmosphere was calm, soothing, and the music gave a pleasant echo of fun. Having not been to many weddings before — or any, really — Fred didn’t know what to expect. He thought it would be loud, chaotic, and people would be toppling over each other on the dance floor.

That, however, was not the case.

As the afternoon turned to early evening, a few couples had come and gone from the dance floor, a few meals had been eaten, and the music playlist continued to produce a good enough array of songs for Fred not to become overly bored. Molly had strongly suggested playing Celestina Warbeck and was still bitter that Fleur rejected her upfront, but she seemed to be enjoying the evening as she moved to the music on the dance floor alongside her husband.

“You gonna ask Hermione to dance?” George nudged Ron in the side, Fred chuckling at his younger brother’s clear discomfort.

Ron’s cheeks flared pink, “Blood hell, no. She’s with Krum.”

The three of them looked over to the centre of the tent where, in fact, Hermione was laughing and dancing with the Bulgarian seeker. The one that Fred had listened to Ron whine about for hours on end in his sixth year.

“Come on, Ronniekins. You could out dance him,” Fred smirked, teasing him.

Giving him the best glare he could muster, Ron grumbled, “Hope she steps on his big feet.”

Fred let out a small laugh and turned back to face the dance floor, his eyes immediately finding you. He tried telling himself it was due to your dress, but that was only because he didn’t want to admit how beautiful he found you. How he currently wanted nothing more than to rush over there and ask you to dance.

Odd, Fred thought, I’ve never wanted to dance with anyone.

“What about you Freddie?” Ron turned the attention away from him, “I see you eyeing her. Just go ask her to dance or I’ll go do it for you and I reckon I’d make it way more bloody awkward.”

Trying his best to act nonchalant, Fred grumbled, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” George’s eyes sparkled with mischief and as much as Fred usually liked that, he didn’t like it so much right now, “Then you wont mind if I go talk to her—”

“Sit down, you git,” he snapped quietly, eyes darting away from where you were standing and chatting with Luna before he glared daggers at his two sniggering brothers, “Both of you need to shut it.”

“Just go,” George said, taking a sip of firewhisky, “Someone’ll snatch your spot.”

Fred took a deep breath and stood up, wishing to get away from his idiotic family. His heart was racing against his rib cage, uneasiness and nerves spreading throughout his entire body as he slowly walked towards the floor. He stopped to look at anything and everything along the way, stalling the interaction as much as possible. Asking Angelina to the ball had been casual — he never really fancied her the way one should fancy a date. It was more of a friendly thing. But as he looked over at you, your contagious laughter reaching his ears and your cheeks slightly pink, he realized that this was so very different. So very nauseating.

“Fred,” you smiled up at him, catching Fred off guard. He hadn’t even noticed that he walked up to you, but as he heard George muttering behind him, he realized his twin probably gave him a good shove in your general direction.

“Hi,” he smiled down at you, “Hello, Luna.” He greeted your friend, who gave him a dreamy wave before stalking off through the crowd with a smile on her face.

“She’s had a lot of gigglewater,” you informed him, “Told me about seven times that she thought I looked like Pygmy puff.”

Fred found himself laughing, “I don’t think you look like one. I don’t remember Pygmy puffs being so stunning — and I’d know, Ginny had one of those little rats.”

Your eyes widened and your smiled faltered just a tad, “You think I’m stunning?”

“Yeah,” Fred suppressed his nerves the best that he could, “I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to dance.”

He saw you take a deep breath, placing your glass down on the nearest table before holding out your hand, “I’d love to.”

Your hand was warm as it laced in with his, a sudden wave of confidence flowing over him at the contact.

He led you out to the dance floor, your body close to his as you linked your arms behind his neck, his hands holding your waist. He felt his breath stutter as your fingers grazed the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile.

“Do you know how to dance?” you asked, looking down at your feet as you actively avoided stepping on his feet, the two of you slowly beginning to sway to the music.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Winging it.”

You chuckled, tossing a loose strand of hair out of your face before gazing back up at him, “Apologies in advance if I step on your feet—”

Right as you said that, Fred felt the tip of your shoe dig into the top of his foot. Your eyes shot wide open and you stepped back, tensing up.

“I am so sorry!”

Fred removed a hand from your waist and pressed it over his heart, “You wounded me, woman.”

Guilt left your face and you broke into another fit of giggles, stepping close to him once again, your hands finding their spot at the back of his neck as you muttered another apology. Fred couldn’t remember ever dancing like this with anyone before. Though you two were currently only friends — if even that — he felt like your movements were intimate, close, and he wanted to continue dancing with you until the sun was gone and rising back up again.

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, resting your head against his chest. He was tall enough that you could do so without leaning over. Fred hoped to Godric that you couldn’t hear how violently his heart was beating.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckled, the vibrations causing you to pull away and smile up at him.

He stared down into your eyes, his own face falling into a serious trance. As cliche as it was, he felt as if the two of you were alone. That the wedding had died down and the dance floor was meant for you and you alone. That no one could ruin this little moment. He could smell your intoxicating perfume and it was rendering his mind slightly blank.

Fred Weasley didn’t fall for anyone in one day. Especially someone that he had never met before. But here he was, the only thing on his mind being that he wanted to dance the night and morning away with you. That he wanted to take you to dinner. To bring you to the shop.

“Something on your mind?” you asked, a tone of inquisition in your voice as you peered up at him.

“You,” he replied, stopping in his step completely when he heard himself, “I — that came off awfully weird.”

“It came off awfully sweet,” you stopped dancing with him, smiling brightly, “For someone who doesn’t remember me, you sure seem to be warming up rather quickly. I’m not complaining, though.”

Fred had never been happier for his boldness than in this exact moment.

“Coffee?” you asked, beginning to move to the music once more, Fred following in your step. He found himself stumbling over his feet just a bit, but he played it off well enough that he was certain you hadn’t even noticed.

“I like coffee but it’s a little late now,” he smirked to himself, knowing what you meant but deciding to tease you just a tad.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, “Oi, you know what I meant.”

He chuckled, cheeks hurting from how much smiling he had done this evening, “Of course I do. But here, let me ask. Y/N, would you accompany me to dinner and coffee tomorrow night?”

You pretended to ponder, the tips of your ears slightly redder than they were a few seconds ago, “I would need to check my schedule but I believe I’m free.”

“Good,” Fred grinned, heart doing a summersault in his chest as you beamed up at him, your body pressed against his as the two of you continued to get lost in each other.

Luckily for Fred, you were too busy focused on him to notice Ron and George shooting thumbs up your way, their knowing grins taunting Fred from across the dance floor. But, as Fred looked down at you, he thought he didn’t really care.

After all, Fred Weasley has a date.

—

taglist

@grierpilots

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@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

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@ickle-ronniekins

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@susceptible-but-siriusexual

@starlightweasley

@mytreec

@thisismysketchbook

(message me to be added!)

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley one shots #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fics #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert

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warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years ago

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Aredhel, Reborn

This is a fragment that I started putting together a long time ago, and it stops in the middle, but my writing isn’t cooperating right now so I’m posting it as-is for @tolkiengenweek . It’s a sequel to my two previous Aredhel pieces (but not my Aredhel and Eöl one, which isn’t in continuity with it). Hopefully I’ll manage to follow up on it.

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

Aredhel leaves the Halls, permitted to return to life for no reason that she can comprehend. She has not sought mercy for herself, though she has asked it a thousand times for her son and been met with a deafening silence. She chooses to return because Fingon is doing so, and he might not be able to bring himself to go if he left behind both of his siblings as well as his dearest friend. Turgon should have returned - would have been permitted to return, yeni ago, not tainted by kinslaying as his siblings are - but he is being stubborn, out of some mix of reluctance to face the survivors of Gondolin and reluctance to face the Lord of the Waters.

They reenter life to be almost immediately caught in their father’s embrace. Through all that follows - returning to Tirion, reunion with their mother and cousins, an apology to the Lady Eärwen that clearly terrifies Fingon more than any battle he’s ever fought in - the world seems faded and distant to Aredhel, as though some part of her fëa had never left the Halls. She cannot stay in Tirion, she cannot seem to hold the thread of a conversation with anyone, even her parents and brother. She knows, distantly, that she loves them, but it all seems so far away.

Her aimless feet take her to Valmar, and she find herself at the one place in the Blessed Realm that is shunned by Eldar and Ainur alike, climbing from the foot of Ezellohar to the two broken skeletons that were once the purest light in the universe, and as she collapses to the grass she feels, for the first time, a connection with the world. How did you do it? she whispers. How do you continue when what you hold dearest has been turned to darkness and ruin and ash? And something connects within her mind, something that never did through all the years in the Halls, never did during her return to Tirion, though all the reunions and necessary, distant apologies. Her feet carry her south and east, to the seashore and the white city, the city of pearls.

She does not go to the throne room of the king and queen, but to the docks, cloaked and hooded and unnoticed, seeking for faces she remembers. She finds one, working, holding a small curved knife in her hand that she uses to shell oysters.

Aredhel raises her hood, sees the Telerin woman start at the sight of her, and falls to her knees. The knife stops its work, poised in midair.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…I wished to apologize. To say that I was wrong.”

“So? What does that mean? What will that mend?” The woman lays down the shelling-knife, goes to a ship, and picks up another meant for carving wood. She lays the blade to a piece of wood lying nearby and the hands, their movements so smooth and deft when shelling oysters, begin to shake, leaving jagged, uneven cuts, leaving it useless. “I built the ships your people so wantonly destroyed, shaped them as you Noldor shape steel, and now I live again, but that which gave me life has left me. We did not hoard them and hide them in vaults, we sailed them and lived aboard them until they were more our home than the shore, and all you left to us were blood and ash and tainted memories.” The tremors through her body come in waves now, and her voice is choked. “My life was the least of what you stole from me. And now you seek what? Absolution? Resolution? This does not end for me. Why should it end for you?”

Aredhel hunches in on herself. “I surrender. What would you have of me?”

“Why come here, and not to the king?”

Olwë wouldn’t do anything to me - for Uncle Finarfin’s sake, if not for my own. He wasn’t who I attacked. He wasn’t who I killed.

“I thought you had more right. I…I know what it is to be betrayed by one whom you trusted. I know what it it is to see what you love dearest cast into ruin. And if I had - him - apologizing to me, truly and sincerely, as I am to you” - her voice breaks - “I would bury a knife in his guts.” She is shaking. “I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. Only that I needed to do something. I surrender. Say what you want from me, and you will have it.”

The Telerin woman just looks tired. “I don’t want your blood. What use would that be? I don’t want you locked up. What good would that do anyone? You cannot give back what you have taken. You cannot restore what is destroyed.

“Leave us in peace. Go.”

Aredhel goes.

....

She flees to the wild lands she once loved, which no longer feel so narrow as they did in the years of her youth, before Gondolin and Nan Elmoth and the Halls, before she knew that duty was a chain and love was a chain. Fear, too, is a chain, as she find when she wanders into the woods of Oromë where she once hunted with her cousins and stops, trembling, as the treetops cut off the sky, frozen, her thought a thousand miles away in drowned lands where the forest went from wonder to horror to prison. She works her way stumbling back to the light, her arms clutching at branches and tree-trunks to pull her onwards, until she emerges again into the free air.

She goes, instead, to the open plains, where she can run and ride and hunt, and take joy in feeling alive again, with a heart that beats and mouth that tastes and limbs that ache. In time she returns to the forest, first to edges and sun-dappled clearings, later to the denser woods in autumn when the leaves turn yellow and brown and fall to create openings where light and warmth enters, and nuts and fruits and berries surround her at every turn. Regaining the woods in summertime takes longer, where leaves create deep pools of shadow, and it is longer still before she wishes to be in the woods after nightfall, looking up at the stars.

(She no longer wears white. She dresses in greys and browns and tans, and in plain or woodland she might be mistaken for part of the landscape.)

She cannot say, for certain, how much of her escape is driven by avoiding walls, and how much by avoiding people, avoiding the need to hear or speak of (or hear people deliberately and delicately not speak of) a son she cannot defend and will not condemn. Did she shun the woods because they felt a cage, or because it felt that at any moment a pale-skinned, black-haired boy might step out of them with a present for his mother of hazlenuts or newly-caught game or skillfully-carved wood? A boy who is gone, who is become something she cannot and will not name.

Fingon finds her, from time to time, with uncanny ability, though he was never her equal as a woodsman. They share meals, wanderings, conversations light or serious. He does not tell her to return, though he speaks often of their parents and at times ventures to say how much they miss her. She does not know how to explain. Fingon can feel that their positions, failing and pardoned and returned and grieving for the lost, are the same, but it does not feel so to her. He fell in battle, and with a host of heroic deeds to his name. Her father fell in combat, the greatest one in the history of Arda. She died because she trusted the wrong person, loved the wrong person, ran off, was irresponsible and impetuous as always, led an enemy back to the one safe home she still had; her place in the First Age’s history is the dislodged rock or careless shout that starts an avalanche. Turgon has never blamed her for Gondolin’s fall, but that is because she never spoke to him while they were in the Halls, never knowing what to say. I am sorry that my son existed? She isn’t. She isn’t. She isn’t. She is only sorry that his father orphaned him, left him alone among strangers in a strange city with no parent to guide him.

One morning she awakes at her campsite to find her father there, tending the embers of her fire. She does not know how he has found her; he is gifted in scholarship, in diplomacy, in governance, in craftwork, in all the arts of war, but not in woodcraft or tracking or the arts of the wildnerness (save, by necessity, of keeping thousands of people alive in bone-chilling, soul-numbing temperatures).

They speak a little of other things, of her life in the woods and his in Tirion, but he cannot long restrain the question he has come to ask. “Aredhel, can you not come home?”

She offers the easier explanation first, the other being too painful to place in words. “I don’t want to go back to be pitied as a failure.”

“We all failed, dearest. Every one of us.”

“You did not. Not like me. You died fighting Morgoth and every Elda and I expect every Vala respects you for that. Fingon died fighting a balrog. My younger cousins died in battle. Even the philosopher did better than me! I was one of the most eager to go, I killed people in order to go, atta, and I have nothing to show for it, no achievements, nothing to boast of, and I will not go back to be petted and pitied and patronized, I won’t -” and she knows she still sounds like a spoiled child even now, when the others have grown wise and thoughtful and penitent.

Her father simply looks at her, long and quiet, as if trying to perceive all the words she has left unspoken, and they finally struggle to her lips.

“I don’t want to know what they all think of him. I do know what they think of him. I don’t want to be consoled for what my son did or became by people who didn’t know him and can’t understand him, and to know they are thinking of it every time they look at me, I’ll hate them for it and it will break out and I’ll cause trouble for everyone again - ” she’s stopped looking at her father, not wanting to see in his eyes his opinion of such a grandson, not wanting to feel the wrath against him that would come from it. “Why does everything I love fall to evil? My son, Tyelko, Curvo, my - ” she cannot bring herself to say husband, “- him? Do I have no judgement, no discernment? Am I being punished? I loved him when he killed me, I love my son and my cousins yet, and I don’t want to explain or to justify or to live among people that hate them -”

She is weeping now, and her father pulls her into an embrace. “You did not deserve this, Aredhel. Not what happened to you, or what happened to your son.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is quiet now. “I think, sometimes, it is all of a piece. If you do evil to gain something, whether it be ill in itself or not, it will burn you when you find it. As with my cousins and the gemstones. I killed to gain freedom from limitations or constraint, and when I took it it burned me.”

#tolkien #the silmarillion #aredhel #fingolfin #fanfic #tolkiengenweek #cw trauma

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royallyjoon · 4 years ago

Text

nephilim (un)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior

the mysterious, age old town of ichabod. within it rests a history hidden from its inhabitants, who are forced to remain there out of fear. you simply wish to live in this town with the people you love without facing its wrath for as long as you can. unfortunately for you, there are great powers on your side who are willing to do whatever it takes to get you. whether you come willingly or not. after all, it only takes a little hellfire

——————————————————————————

“Come along now, (Y/N).” Your mother’s grip on your wrist tightened as she all but threw you in front of her. You nearly twisted your ankle on the twigs and tree roots that outlined the forest floor. “We are late enough as it is.”

You huffed and tore your wrist from your mother’s hand to hike up the long, white dress you wore. “Good. I wish we didn’t have to trek out here in the middle of the night every month. Maybe we’ll miss the gathering entirely.”

She smacked your arm harshly. “Not another word from you, smart mouth.” Your mother dressed similarly, the only difference being that her ivory dress paled considerably compared to yours in the moonlight. “We’ve been attending for years. I highly doubt that such a change would be allowed, much less appreciated.”

You shivered at the thought. No matter how much you resented these meetings, you wouldn’t dare miss a summoning.

You stayed quiet for ten more minutes, taking in the rustling of the forest and focusing your efforts on avoiding sharp rocks underfoot.

Trees rested on either side of you, lining your path and blocking out any natural light with their twisting, sneaking branches. It took all of your effort to ignore the oppressive silence, broken every so often by the snapping of a trig or the movement of some animal, cloaked by shadows in the dark.

Soon enough, you and your mother reached the clearing.

She pulled you back just as you were about to step into the moonlight, throwing a dark cloak in your face. “Are you mad? Put it on!”

You smiled abashedly and threw the material on. The hood was so long it cast a shadow over the lower half of your face but was wide enough for you to see.

Your mother finished arranging her hood and the two of you stepped into the clearing, joining with the last of the circle of cloaked shadows.

The moon shone brightly without the cover of the forest giving your surroundings an ethereal facade. A wooden stage lay at the very middle of the clearing, upon which stood your small town’s resident royalty.

The Kims.

They were the ruling force of the town, the husband being the mayor, the wife a successful actress. They both settled down in Ichabod twenty-five years ago with their children. What had once been a town amuck with violence and chaos was transformed into a prosperous, well-functioning borough.

How the Kims managed to transform the area nearly overnight, few knew. They have run your city for nearly three decades. And everyone in it is terrified to cross their path.

Directly behind them stood their seven adopted sons, faces shrouded by hoods and masks. You didn’t know too much about them besides their names and faces; five of them currently attended your school and you made sure to give them a wide berth, being as polite as possible.

Kim Moonsik raised his left arm, twisting his wrist in a full circle. He then pointed his hand at the sky, gently lowering his pinky and middle fingers. “Greetings to the moon from her earthly servants.”

You lifted your forearm with everyone else, copied the gesture, and repeated the phrase quietly with disinterest.

“I thank you all for coming on such short notice.” He continued. “As another month commences, we have the pleasure of standing before you all. The moon has graced us with her everlasting beauty and prosperity rains down upon our small town, just as it has for decades before.”

This is usually the part where you would start drifting off. Kim Moonsik could drove on with his speech about the moon for far too long.

About what felt like an hour but was approximately fifteen minutes later, Mr. Kim trailed off and the forest became so silent, you hushed your thoughts in fear of thinking too loud.

The oppressive feeling in the air returned full force and you shivered underneath the warmth of your cloak as Mr. Kim eyed each and every person attending. He was not able to directly see your face, but you felt like the man was staring into your soul.

“Regrettably,” He said, clasping his hands together, “we are not able to part tonight without the moon’s divine punishment.”

Ah, you thought. There it is.

The reason your heart pounds at every one of these meetings.

All you wanted to do was be that half-asleep little girl again, clutched in your mother’s arms as she trudged her way here every month.

“Wylynne has decreed that there are sinners in our midst.” Mr. Kim says it quietly, but the gravity in his words travel.

And with a mighty roar, the pyre behind the wooden stage was lit with orange flames.

The crowd stood in silence, waiting for the dreadful sound. You quaked in the dirt. Would it be you this time?

But by the grace of the moon, no.

The telltale, piercing shriek came from the right side of the crowd. Citizens rushed to get away from the teenager cradled in her parents’ arms. The mother could not let go of her daughter, heavily sobbing as the child clutched her head and continued to scream. Her hood had fallen off and your eyes widened as you recognized her.

Natalia Pierre. The two of you had had some awful confrontation a few months ago. Nevertheless, the resident embers of anger could not stop the overwhelming pity you felt as the Kims’ men ripped her away from her parents.

“Please!” She cried as they forced her to her knees before the mayor. Not that she wasn’t already bent over, riddled with pain. “Knives-the knives won’t stop, please get them out!”

Kim Moonsik lay his hand on her shoulder. “Do not worry, my child. You will soon join Wylynne’s heavenly army. May your failures be a lesson, victories a reward, and may your soul live on with the moon forever.”

“May your soul live on with the moon forever.” You whispered the last phrase with everyone else, ignoring the tear that made its way down your cheek.

Before Natalia could say another word, her screams were cut short as her body was engulfed in purple fire.

It only took a second. Within minutes, her cloak, dress, bones, and ashes were gone. She hadn’t even scorched the grass. You could almost believe you’d dreamed it if her father wasn’t kneeling next to her writhing mother in the dirt.

Mr. Kim smiled gracefully, a sight that reminded you of the grim reaper with the shadow on his face. “To her heavenly grace, the moon, may she travel. To my fellow citizens of Ichabod, I bid goodnight.”

The orange flame behind the stage was doused. You, your mother, and the crowd bowed your heads as you wished goodnight to the Kims. It was only when the last son had left the clearing did anyone else begin moving.

You clutched your mother’s hand all the way home.

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

Since before you could remember, your mother had been dragging you to Ichabod monthly town meetings. It was the Kims’ way of ensuring the people that the moon continued to bless and favor them and would send prosperity their way in return for a sacrifice.

In short, they were trapped here and if they wished to keep their lives, they would know better than to cross the Kims.

The people that had tried to run away all failed. They would either, depending on the “grace of the moon,” show up alive right back where they started, or their bodies were placed on the front doors of relatives or neighbors.

Now, you weren’t stupid. You did not believe that it was the actions of Wylynne or whomever Mr. Kim spends his nights singing praises to. The fatal injuries were always exterior, therefore it must have been nothing other than the work of man.

Nevertheless, you were too afraid to risk leaving Ichabod. You preferred to live your life quietly, holding on to your closest friends and family. And it has been successful for the past years.

The next morning as your mom drove you to school, you used your phone’s camera to check your appearance. There were bags under your eyes, so heavy that makeup would not be enough to cover it.

As she drove, you sighed heavily and thought back to last night, wondering how Natalia could have possibly angered the Kims. She never tried to escape--at least, to your knowledge--and she never talked to them at school either...

Your mother pulled up to the curb and you stuffed your phone into your uniform pocket, kissed her on the cheek in goodbye, and closed the car door.

Ichabod Academy, the resident school for all children born and raised inside of this town. It ran from first to twelfth grade, in several different buildings, and made for quite the large campus for the size of your town. The buildings looked quite dreary from the outside with its gray walls and glass doors, most of the lights inside still off.

It was comparable to the size of a small, inner-city university. Everyone knew everyone, for the better or worse.

You walked to the upperclassmen building, entered your first class, and lay your head on the desk.

Usually, you would be able to get at least four hours of sleep the night after a summoning, but last night you barely managed to achieve two.

Natalia...she wasn’t a bad person. She made mistakes, yes, but she was human above all.

“(Y/N)?” You heard someone gently ask. You pried your eyes open to see your best friend.

“Hey, Mana.” You yawned. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than you, clearly.” They snorted and dropped themselves into the seat in front of you. “I couldn’t believe...”

You watched them tiredly as they failed to speak their words. “I know.” You finally whispered back.

The teacher walked into the room with a student trailing behind her and you immediately sat up, warily eyeing them both. “Good morning, class. Today we have a new student, transferring from another section. Please introduce yourself.” She motioned.

As if he needed an introduction.

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Kim Jimin. I hope that we can get along and have a great year. Please take care of me.” He bowed slightly.

Your class chorused greetings and you balked slightly as you realized that the only empty seat was...

“You can take the seat next to Ms. (L/N). (Y/N), please raise your hand.”

You put your hand up and Jimin waltzed over to you with the biggest smile. He placed his bag on the floor next to the metal leg of the table. “Hello, seat mate. I hope we can get along.”

You sent a small smile his way--though it may have looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, me too.”

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

The bell rang for the break and you immediately slammed your notebook shut and dropped your head onto the desk.

Jimin giggled at your side. “Did you not sleep well last night, (Y/N)?”

You groaned out a “no”.

Mana turned around slowly and gently poked at you. “It was emotionally taxing for both of us, I think.” They said and smiled at Jimin. “I’m Mana, (Y/N)’s close friend.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He stated. “Emotionally taxing you say...may I ask why?”

You lifted your head. “Mana, and I used to be good friends with the tribu--girl who was chosen last night.” You quickly corrected yourself. “Then she got involved with this guy...”

“We told Natalia he was no good news, from the very beginning.” Mana interrupted. “But she insisted that he was different with her and kind to her. Then a couple of months into their relationship he has her smoking, drinking, sneaking out to have sex-”

“And it’s not that these things are bad,” you continued. “Like it was her life and she could do what she wanted as long as she was safe, you know? But she wasn’t like that at all before. To see such a drastic change...”

“Next thing you know, he’s spreading her private pictures across the entire campus.” Mana’s fist clenched and you put your hand on theirs to relieve the anger. “We tried to talk to him about her and he was always rude to us, dismissing us off-hand and insulting Natalia behind her back. (Y/N) tried to confront her about his behavior and Natalia fought her, saying she was just jealous of them.”

“After that, we lost touch with her.” You said. “But I would give anything to go back and speak to her, or just apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Mana fumed.

“The power of Wylynne is divine and just.” Jimin commented as he stared at you and your friend, unblinking. “She must have taken Ms. Pierre into her celestial army to spare her from facing the punishment of her earthly crimes for the rest of her life. She always has a reason, after all.”

Mana looked at the table awkwardly. “Yes,” they said, “praise Wylynne.”

You nodded.

“(Y/N)?” Jimin looked at you expectedly. You weren’t familiar with the weight of his gaze, but you quickly learned it wasn’t something you were trying to get accustomed to.

“Praise Wylynne.” You said, flashing another grimace-smile.

Jimin’s eyes disappeared as he smiled and the bell rang, signaling the end of break.

——————————————————————————

As the bell rang for lunch, Mana practically yanked your joint out of the socket with how quickly they wanted to leave the classroom. “Come on, we should try and get some food in is before next period.” On the way out, however, you couldn’t help but notice Jimin pulling out a plastic bag that contained a series of containers. There was one large plastic container that had what looked like a main meal, accompanied by four smaller containers that held side dishes.

Jimin sighed forlornly at the pile and you felt a touch of pity for him. Before Mana could drag you out the room completely, you tapped them, gesturing with your head at Jimin and making puppy dog eyes.

They sent you a look that clearly questioning your sanity, but you rolled your eyes in return, gesturing once more to Jimin. A couple of seconds of staring later, Mana allowed you to drag them back over to his desk.

“Hey Jimin,” you gently approached him, “why are you eating lunch in the classroom?”

“Oh...” his face drooped even more. “...My little brothers and I would always stay behind while everyone else left to go to the cafeteria. We found it uncomfortable to enter that place when everyone would just go quiet and speak around us in whispers....I guess it was just a force of habit.”

You nodded in sad understanding on the outside but sighed in the back of your head. Of course people would avoid them. The Kim children were abandoned out of fear and respect rather than any overt effort to ostracize them.

Before, Jimin was probably accustomed to eating with his brothers Taehyung and Jungkook, but this morning’s schedule and class adjustment ripped the three apart.

You put a hand on his desk, wanting to show comfort without crossing borders. “Well, Mana and I would love to get to know you better as a classmate, or friend... you’re welcome to sit with us if you want?”

Jimin’s eyes widened, glistening with moisture. He snapped his head up, cheeks rosy with a hopeful blush. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude...”

“You’re not intruding! Come on, I’ll grab your bag for you.” Jimin rushed to pack up the containers. He took his bag from you with a smile. “Thank you both,” he whispered.

Walking through the relatively empty school halls with a Kim gave you a sense of confidence you didn’t need. You walked in a line, with you betwixt Mana and Jimin. All the students that saw you widened their eyes and bolted to the side to make way. It wasn’t because of you or Mana--you knew this--but the feeling made you uncomfortable.

It was powerful.

When you all arrived at the cafeteria, you tried to enter inconspicuously by piggybacking behind some tall classmates but it failed miserably. The moment Jimin was spotted, people indeed stopped talking and the room was engulfed in whispers.

You gently took Jimin by the elbow, smiling at him assuredly, and directed him towards your and Mana’s usual table. It was thankfully empty, so you put your bags down and took your wallets out.

“We’ll be right back, we’re just gonna go buy some food,” you stated, hearing chatter pick back up. Your best friend must have shot everyone their “mind your business” glare. Jimin nodded, neatly unpacking his lunch. Mana all but dragged you off.

“‘We’d love to get to know you better’? Seriously, (Y/N)! There’s a reason why people avoid the Kims! And you just openly invite one to our lunch table? Are you trying to become the next sacrifice?!” They harshly stage whispered.

“Come on, Mana,” you scoffed as you arrived at the lunch bar. “He’s been separated from his only brother in his class and trapped with a bunch of strangers. The least we could do is eat lunch with him. Don’t transfer the sins, or fear, of the parent to the child.”

Mana glared at you for a long while but eventually huffed out their agreement. “Fine.”

You payed for your food and walked back to the table where your new classmate was politely waiting. “Aw, you didn’t have to wait for us, but thanks!”

“Of course I had to! I should be the ones thanking you for being willing to sit and eat with me...” Jimin spoke ever so softly, looking down at the lunch table.

In this moment, it was easy to forget the fear that lingered from yesterday’s cold, dark night. It was easy to take the hand of the cherubic boy that sat before you and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Think nothing of it. We’re going to be doing this a lot more often, so please look forward to it!”

It was easy to forget the curve of his lip as he quickly hid an arrogant smirk, morphing it into his trademark angelic smile. “Yes, please take care of me!”

--------------------------------————————————

Lunch was quite awkward, as it was the first time the three of you had spent a meal together. You and Mana were used to speaking about anything and everything during lunch. You both especially tackled controversial opinions concerning the Kims and their vice-like grip on the minds of those in this town.

Clearly, in this case, that would not have made for clever conversation.

Jimin saved the discussion by turning it towards school, questioning you both on your favorite classes and teachers. If he was able to tell how religiously liberal you were, he was excellent at hiding it.

He shared funny anecdotes of shenanigans he accomplished with his brothers, stories that had the three of you holding your stomachs in laughter.

For the most part, you and your friend were relieved. Jimin was not nearly as terrifying as some of his siblings.

Time passed swiftly and before you knew it, the warning bell sounded, prompting people to throw out the rest of their lunch and swarm through the doors.

You grabbed your and Mana’s tray, throwing the waste away as necessary and placing the trays on the counter, thanking the lunch lady that took them. Then you headed back towards the table, where the two awaited you.

Unlike the passageway that was fairly empty on your way towards the cafeteria, the halls were now teeming with students. They whispered non discreetly, taking glances at the three of you as you walked.

Mana grabbed your arm, letting Jimin go slightly in front as they pulled you back to whisper in your ear. “I could get used to the attention.”

They started snickered but yelped when you slapped their arm. “You wouldn’t be saying that for long. Think of how annoying the constant whispers would get. The Kims have to suffocate underneath all that attention.” You muttered back. Mana considered your words, eventually nodding their head in agreement.

Your best friend did not often have a gentle temperament. They would blow up at students fairly quickly--especially if they were whispering in their face.

The two of you reached the classroom, thanking Jimin as he held the door. Your classmates’ voices hushed and you internally sighed. If you hadn’t noticed their explicit cautiousness before, you definitely did now.

The teacher for the next lesson, Mrs. Hargrove, came in quickly after you, placing stacks of papers on their desk and shutting down conversation.

“Good afternoon, students. I hope everyone had a great lunch.” Mrs. Hargrove’s appearance looked a little more frazzled than usual as she pushed her frizzy hair behind her ears and smoothed down her skirt, but no one made a comment on it. “Today, we’re going to be making an adjustment to our syllabus. Rather than have you all complete individual projects and two tests for semester, I will be placing you in pairs where you will complete a much larger research project with only one test.”

Some of your classmates sighed in relief while others groaned, and you all erupted into conversations. You didn’t mind completing an individual project, but the stress of research and choosing the topic would weigh on you for a while.

Mana turned to you, dread written all over their face. “We’re going to have to research? Kill me now. What topic do you think we should choose?”

You giggle at their dramatic antics but are swiftly interrupted by the teacher. “Actually, Ms. Waye, Ms. (L/N) will be working with Mr. Kim here...as they are seat mates after all.” Mrs. Hargrove glanced over to Jimin, almost as if she were looking for something in his expression.

His face gave away nothing and he disregarded her with a stare.

Mana sneered at the teacher’s blatant disregard for their pronouns, but Mrs. Hargrove paid them no mind, eyes blown wide open as if she’d seen the devil himself. She turned away, stuttering.

“You w-will all be working with your seat mates. I don’t want you taking up any class time to fight over who will be your partner. Now that we have an even amount of students in our class, it settles everything quite nicely. As for the chosen topic, I want each pair to research and present on a certain mythological creature.”

You smiled apologetically at Mana, who pouted and turned around to talk to their partner.

Mrs. Hargrove walked back up to the front of the class, handing out the stacks of papers with the required information for the assignment.

“So, (Y/N),” Jimin calling your name broke your attention from the teacher and you looked over at him. “What creature do you think we should research?”

“I’m not sure...but I kind of wanted to talk about a more obscure creature. We could choose one that isn’t as highly discussed.” You said excitedly.

“That’s a good idea! I’m pretty sure my parents have some old books of lore in our library at home...we’d easily be able to find a creature that people don’t know about there. Would you want to come over and check them out?” Jimin offered.

You stared at him, grin slightly slipping. Going to the Kim household? Without your mother’s hand to hold, or reprimanding to keep you from doing something foolish? This would be completely different from meeting them in the woods and escaping to the safety of your home afterwards.

You’d be walking into the lions’ den of your own volition.

Jimin saw your hesitation and his face crumpled. “It’s fine if you don’t want to...I’d understand,” he muttered.

But seeing his crestfallen expression, you shook all the bad thoughts from your head. “No! It’s fine. I would love to come over...I just have to let my mom know.”

What is she going to do--say no? You thought to yourself, grimacing.

Jimin’s face broke out into the biggest smile you’d seen today. “Really? That’s great!” His cheeks were full in happiness and you felt immensely better.

You raised your hand, bringing Mrs. Hargrove over. “May I go make a quick phone call to my mother?”

She nods, glancing again at your partner. You wanted to extricate yourself from the strange atmosphere as soon as possible, so you shoved your phone in your pocket and trekked out into the hall.

You fully weren’t expecting your mother to answer, but she picked up after only a few rings. “Hello?”

“Hey Mom,” you said. “How’s everything at work?”

“Fine,” she said. “I can’t be on the phone for long--what’s up?”

“Would it be okay for me to go over to a classmate’s house for a school project? We were just assigned it and we need to do research. It’s a really big part of our grade this semester.”

She was silent for a moment. “Who is this classmate?”

“...Kim Jimin.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and scanned your eyes up and down the hallway as your mother’s volume increased by multiple decibals.

“Yes, I know...He invited me to his house, he said his parents have books we can look into...yes, it’s necessary, unless you want my grades to drop!”

In your determination to placate your mother, you didn’t notice the classroom door opening, nor did you notice the shadow that lurked around the corner.

“Mom, we can’t exactly refuse...it’s just a school project, I’ll be fine!”

You sighed in exasperation as your mother launched off a series of directions, ordering you to text her every hour and watch your behavior around the Kims in her absence. After a string of “yes”, “I know”, and “I will”s, you hung up the phone, shaking your head.

You shoved the device in your pocket and hightailed it to the nearest bathroom, wanting to splash some water on your face before returning to class.

Jimin smirked at your retreating figure, taking his own phone out and tapping out a message. Once he received the response he was looking for, he tucked his phone away, brightened his facial expression, and opened the door to the classroom.

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

The moment had finally arrived: the end of the school day.

Mana watched on pitifully as you packed your books away, Jimin standing patiently above you.

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic to feel so scared, but as far as you or Mana knew, this was the first time someone was (willingly) going over to the Kim’s house. And for something as simple as a school project, no less.

“Alright then...we’re off!” you told your best friend, swinging your bag over your shoulder and tugging them into a hug.

“Good luck on your project! Hope you guys find what you’re looking for,” Mana said, squeezing your midsection painfully tight. “See you tomorrow morning.” They smiled at Jimin, who acknowledged them with a small grin.

You nodded, stepping out from behind the desk and followed Jimin out the classroom.

As soon as he had one toe out the door, however, he was tackled by a blurry figure with neck length, curly, dark hair. Jimin, whose surprise quickly turned into glee, wrapped his arms around the figure. “Taehyungie!”

The sudden motion made you pause in the doorway, one breath away from knocking your head into Jimin’s back.

“I missed you today! I hate the fact that Mr. Burham made you switch classes--we always stick together!” Kim Taehyung pressed his face into Jimin’s neck, but you managed to hear the words he spoke. Jimin chuckled.

“We live together, Taehyung ah, we’d see each other regardless!”

Taehyung lifted his face from his brother’s neck, brittle brown eyes glancing up to meet yours. You felt intimidated by the loss of the sparkle they’d held, but raised a hand to smile and wave at him regardless. “Hi...”

“Oh, Tae! Let me introduce you two.” Jimin hauled his little brother off of him and pulled the two of you by the hand out the doorway so that other students could leave. “(Y/N), this is Taehyung, one of my younger brothers. Tae, this is (Y/N). Mrs. Hargrove assigned us a project on a mythological creature and she’s my partner, so she’ll be coming home with us today to start research.”

You stood against the wall, a polite smile on your face. Taehyung was staring at you with a deadpan expression on his face, assessing you. You didn’t know much about the qualifications of this test, but you assumed it was crucial that you passed it.

All too quickly, his face broke out into a large grin and he swept you into his arms. You grunted at the force with which he pressed you into his chest. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)!”

“Um, nice to meet you too...”

“Tae, you can’t just touch her without her permission!” Jimin pulled Taehyung off of you, smiling apologetically. You waved it off, gaping at both of them as they rehashed their day for the other.

The two brothers chatted happily, arms around each other’s shoulders as they ambled through the halls and out the front door of the school. Students sent you scandalized glances as you trailed behind them, but you were too busy updating your mother to pay attention. When you finally looked up, you saw Jimin and Taehyung leading you to a large, sleek, black van.

Is this what getting abducted in broad daylight feels like?

But you recognized this car. This was the Kim’s family car, driven by a hired professional to take their five children to school and back. You’d seen it many a times in the morning with your mother.

Students whispered as the three juniors approached the vehicle while you cautiously eyed the three figures that stood in front of it.

Kim Jungkook, the school’s most talented freshman. He’d already made high marks in all of the clubs he’d joined, with special attention to the music and sports club. He was so talented in boxing that the Kims, already large beneficiaries of the school, had given the director the money to start and finance the new boxing club.

Kim Hoseok, the captain of the dance team with an academic prowess that was second to only one person in the whole school. He’d taken your school dance team to nationals and, although very kind to the general student body, it was not lost on everyone how exhausted the members of his team would be in competition season. No one in after school activities could forget the sound of him sounding out beats or barking orders through the halls during rehearsals.

And finally, Kim Namjoon. The president of the Association for the Student Body and resident academic genius. He’d held the top scores for every class he’d been in since freshman year. The school trophy case was jokingly nicknamed “Namjoon’s Bureau” after the amount of awards that had his name on them.

Never would you have guessed that you would be meeting not one, but all five of the Kim siblings--on the same day, no less.

“Oh ho, Jiminie,” Hoseok teased as you approached, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “Who’s this?”

Be still, my beating heart--

“Hello! I’m (Y/N), a classmate of Jimin’s. It’s nice to meet you all.” You greeted them with a sharp, but quick bow.

“We were assigned a project to research a mythological creature.”Jimin clung to Namjoon by the arm while he and Jungkook were busy staring at you. “Namjoon hyung, would you help us find the books Dad once showed us in the library? The ones with all the lore and stories?”

On the outside, this felt like a normal day of being introduced to an acquaintance’s family members.

On the inside, however, you were reminded of the purple flames that stole Natalia’s existence from this mortal plane in mere seconds every time you looked one of the older Kim siblings in the eyes.

Jungkook merely looked curious, doe eyes wide in surprise. But Namjoon...

Even though they were adopted, Namjoon held the same crazed, righteous look in his eyes that Kim Moonsik would have whenever he announced the next tribute for Wylynne’s army.

“I’d be happy to find them for you guys,” Namjoon grinned at you.

You “smiled” back.

That was a grimace...that was a definitely a grimace. You seriously needed to work on your facial expressions around them.

Hoseok opened the car door, sliding into the very back with Jungkook and Taehyung while Jimin leapt for the window seat. This left you between him and his older brother, and you fought the urge to groan aloud.

Once inside the car, Namjoon alerted the driver that everyone was present and the man took off without another word. While he was distracted, you lowered your phone brightness and updated your mother again on your location.

“So, (Y/N), how was your day?” You jerk your head up and turn towards the voice, Hoseok questioning you while still wearing that ear-splitting grin.

“It was alright! I met Jimin this morning and then we attended classes and lunch...” you said, fiddling with the power button on your phone.

Hoseok and Taehyung continued to ask you a few more questions, like your favorite color and artists, about your classes and any future career plans. Jimin would cut in every so often with a statement or question of his own, and Jungkook and Namjoon simply watched on quietly as the conversation took place.

You leaned your head on the space between the headrests of the seats, tilting it to the right. You thought this morning’s fatigue had been chased away by the excitement of the day, but it was actually resting, lying in wait for the moment where you would put your guard down.

As much as you wanted to avoid it, the rumbling of the AC and comfort provided by the plush, leather seats caused the background noise in the car to fade before disappearing completely.

Jungkook seemed to be the only one to notice your breathing slow. “She’s asleep.”

Any and all conversation that had been taking place shut down immediately as they all gazed at your figure.

At some point in your sleep, you started to shiver from the temperature of the AC. Jungkook quickly peeled off his school sweater and handed it to Jimin, who pouted slightly as he draped it over your form.

They watched the slow rise and fall of your chest and listened to the soft breathing noises you let out in your sleep. The world outside was forgotten, and for a few, precious moments it was only you and them.

And if all went according to plan, soon it would be much, much longer than a few precious moments. Their world would only consist of you and them, all of them, for the rest of time.

#cult au #bts cult au #yandere bts x reader #yandere bts au #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere jung hoseok #yandere kim taehyung #yandere kim namjoon #yandere kim seokjin #yandere park jimin #yandere min yoongi #Yandere jeon jungkook #x reader #religious au #high school au #college au #ot7 x reader #poly ot7

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daughter-of-flame · 3 years ago

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Introducing Mavwin

Hello Tolkien fandom! I’d like to (finally) introduce my OC who’s been living rent-free in my head for nearly ten years now.

(Picture made with [WIP] Elvish Character Creator RE by Findekane on Meiker.io)

Overview:

Born in Valinor in the Years of the Trees, Mavwin is the third child of Fëanor and Nerdanel and the couple’s only daughter. She survives the rest of her family into the Third Age. I’m currently writing her story, set primarily during the War of the Ring. She actually started out as a Tenth Walker Legomance OC and that hasn’t changed. She has, however, improved considerably as a character. (To be fair I was like 15 when I first made her.) Fun fact, I made her originally so I could make a LotR fic but still play with Silm lore, only to slowly realize just how much trauma would result from being so involved in all the events of the First Age on. Sorry Mavwin, I didn’t actually mean to make your life suck so bad.

(Putting the rest in a read-more because this got really long)

Background:

Mavwin spent her childhood and youth in the bliss of Valinor. When Morgoth destroyed the Two Trees and brought about the Darkness, Mavwin swore the Oath of Fëanor along with her father and brothers and participated in all three Kinslayings. In fact, she spent much of the First Age in the same fashion as her brothers. The one difference is that unlike her brothers, and most of the rest of her family, Mavwin survived. Much to the displeasure of greater Elven society, after the War of Wrath, Elrond and Elros, who Mavwin had fostered along with Maglor, found their foster mother and rehabilitated her with the help of her nephew Celebrimbor. Over the course of the Second Age Mavwin lived Lindon, Eregion, and Rivendell; explored the eastern and southern reaches of Middle-earth, and fought in both wars against Sauron. She spent most of the Third Age trying to help the descendants of Númenor until Celebrían’s capture. From then on Mavwin stayed in Rivendell and Lothlórien until the War of the Ring.

Personality:

Mavwin goes through some pretty drastic personality changes due to the many, many events she lives through and the great deal of trauma she accumulates. Initially she is somewhat introverted, preferring to paint or to search the wild areas of Aman for more materials for her art. She is perfectly capable of acting the royal when needed, however, and has a quick temper that is equally quick to cool. She also occupies a unique place in the family as the only daughter, being somewhat coddled by her older brothers and equally relied upon by her younger brothers. After coming to Beleriand, Mavwin gains more patience and better skill with diplomacy due to what is required of her as a leader of her people. She learns some healing skills and is often called upon to heal her brothers during their years of wandering, but equally if not more often she fights alongside them. During the Second Age, she initially becomes even more introverted and develops an avoidance of other Elves due to her ostracization, and her level of avoidance and introversion fluctuates throughout the rest of her life. In the Third Age, however, she becomes increasingly subdued and somber in general due to depression, PTSD, and grief.

Fun Facts:

Mavwin’s father and mother names are Poldamíriel (Quenya, ”Strong-jewel”) and Mavoinë (Quenya, “Great Longing”). Like most of her brothers, Mavwin used her mother-name as her cilmessë and Sindarinized it upon coming to Beleriand. She also collected several other names over the millennia, such as Fund’ursul (Khuzdul, “Elf from the fires”) from the Dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod, Ukhthaz (Khuzdul, “Endurer”) from the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm, and Zôrzimril (Adûnaic, “Fire-jewel”) from the Men of Númenor.

Mavwin lived primarily as a painter in Valinor, learned as many different painting methods as she could over the years, and invented a couple of others. She can do everything from sculpture painting to silk-painting to illuminating books to actual, wet-plaster-type frescoes. She is, in fact, a massive nerd about painting, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of various materials and methods used for painting.

She speaks with a Fëanorian lisp to her Quenya.

Out of all her brothers, Mavwin was closest to Caranthir, and of her cousins Mavwin was closest to Galadriel. The split between Fëanor and his brothers also split Mavwin and Galadriel, however, and the rift wasn’t healed until late in the Second Age.

Elrond calls her mother and his children call her grandmother.

Mavwin has a palantír. She hasn’t used it since the Ithil stone was lost, however, out of caution that Sauron might have it.

Mavwin also has a memorial to her lost family members in Rivendell. She painted frescoes of all of them on its walls.

Mavwin suffers from PTSD and depression.

#tolkien OC #silmarillion OC #tolkien #silmarillion #lotr #lord of the rings #feanorians #feanorian oc #jrr tolkien #introduction post #mavwin feanoriel #dof #mavwin's backstory

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puppywritings · 4 years ago

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you make it feel like christmas - kim doyoung x gender-neutral reader

⇢ synopsis: when you entered your job a few years ago, you found your best friend, doyoung. the two of you were partners-in-crime, platonic soulmates. however, during a drunken phone call with doyoung’s mother, she catches the wrong idea and invites you to spend christmas with their family… as doyoung’s partner. ever the mama’s boy, doyoung doesn’t want to disappoint her. and you? you’re counting down the days until you can stop this lovers pretence and slap your best friend upside the head.

⇢ word count: 5.6k ⇢ trigger warnings: alcohol use resulting in minor memory loss, swearing, slight suggestive references. this piece is suitable for all audiences!

⇢ a/n: this is my piece for @pastelsicheng and @dearyongs‘ a taste of winter collab. quick disclaimer that doyoung’s family in this fic may not represent his real life family situation, however this is a work of fiction and isn’t meant to mirror real life. i don’t know doyoung, nor do i know his mother, and the characters represented in this writing are fictitious versions of them. furthermore, the christmas traditions depicted in this story are mainly based on my own experiences celebrating the holidays in england.

⇢ taglist: @hunjins @ahgase55g7 @mmoondance @notnctu @orange-nimon-cross @yeoshwa @infnteen @neonun-au @luvlala @neo-shitty @yutacrush @ethaeriyeol @fairyinaflowercrown @in-my-neofeelings @dreamieofu

"All I want for Christmas is youuu, baby!"

Doyoung's voice was almost deafening in your ear, which would've been a problem if you were sober. Your voice, too, merrily drunk and far too loud, belted out the holiday tunes. Your best friend's arm was slung around your shoulder, and yours was around his waist. It was like the blind leading the blind, however; neither of you were keeping your balance very well. The two of you staggered together, navigating the city's streets back to his apartment.

The Christmas party that your office held would have been okay without your favourite coworker - you would've had a good time and enjoyed yourself, sure. But with Doyoung's presence, paired with the copious amounts of alcohol, it had been a riot. Even if you had peaked too early and had to depart by 11pm.

Doyoung was, undoubtedly, the best part about your job. The workload wasn't overwhelming, nor was it tedious, and the salary was nothing to sneeze at. But, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing your job had ever provided you with was the opportunity to meet your best friend. Doyoung was your platonic soulmate, and your favourite person.

"Hey," Doyoung slurred, calling out to you suddenly. "Is that your ringtone?"

Squinting, you listened closely. "No, Doie," you hiccupped. "I think that's your ringtone."

"Oh, shit,'' Doyoung mumbled, diving into his coat pocket to retrieve his ringing phone. "My mom! She's facetiming."

Your vision was blurred, but you very vaguely saw Doyoung answer the call, bringing up his mother's image on his phone screen. Though you’d been best friends with Doyoung for a few years, you’d never met her. Doyoung lived and worked alongside you in the city, but his mother lived a while away in the countryside, and so your paths had never crossed.

"Hi Mom," Doyoung waved at her.

"Doyoung? Where are you?"

"I'm walking home, Mom," he responded, beaming at her through his phone.

"You sent me a strange text message," she told him, her voice raised a little more than necessary - Doyoung had mentioned that she was somewhat inept when it came to technology.

"Huh?" Doyoung looked confused.

"Something about lunch the day after tomorrow," she elaborated. "Doyoung, you aren't coming home for the holidays until next week, right?"

"Ah," Doyoung said, understanding. "That was meant for somebody else, sorry Mom."

"My boy," you heard her tut, and you laughed. "Is someone there with you, Doyoung?"

"Yeah," Doyoung nodded, "Y/N is here."

"Hi, Mrs Kim," you waved, as Doyoung turned the screen towards you. If you weren't so drunk, you would've been nervous about meeting your best friend's mother for the first time. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) your bloodstream was mainly rum at that point, so you had absolutely no worries nor qualms.

“Kim Doyoung! Why didn’t you tell me you had a partner?” his mother blurted out.

“Huh?” exclaimed Doyoung, utterly confused.

“Oh Doyoung, you must bring Y/N home for the holidays! I can’t wait to meet them,” she cooed.

“Mom, wait-”

“See you two next week!” she cheerily said her goodbyes before hanging up, disappearing from the screen and leaving the two of you in silence.

Doyoung looked at you. You looked back at him.

“Did she…” you began, not quite wanting to end your sentence.

Doyoung nodded gravely. “She thinks we’re dating.”

The look on Doyoung’s face - eyes wide, lips in a straight, serious line - it was too much for you. You snorted, gripping his arm as you buckled in laughter. He wasn’t far behind you, bursting into a fit of giggles too. You and Doyoung loved each other, that was indisputable. But it was completely and entirely platonic. The two of you laughed together the rest of the way home.

As you were coming to your senses the next morning, you groaned. Why the hell did you feel so lousy? you wondered, full to the brim with self-pity. Your head pounded, a throbbing ache so strong you were certain somebody was banging pots and pans in your brain. Your throat was so, so dry, and you felt as though you could drink a whole gallon of water and still be thirsty afterwards. And then the memories of the previous night came flooding in.

Ah, you thought, Now it all makes sense.

You sorted through the events of last night, mentally flicking through the filing cabinet of your memories. A filing cabinet that was sorely empty when it came to the night prior. You remembered arriving at the party with Doyoung; you remembered the first few drinks, but following that your memories began to fade. You remembered Doyoung pressing a sloppy kiss to your boss’ cheek - a rather stoic middle-aged man - and you had no doubt that Doyoung would be apologising profusely on Monday morning. You had absolutely no recollection of the walk home, but since you had awoken in Doyoung’s spare bedroom, you supposed the night could have gone worse. At least you made it home safe.

Begrudgingly, you threw back the blankets and lifted yourself out of bed. Doyoung - bless his heart - had left you some painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table. You consumed both of them gratefully and emerged from the spare room, wincing at the sunlight that met you. As you made your way down the hallway, whistling met your ears. How Doyoung could be so lively after a night of heavy drinking, you had no idea.

“Why the hell do you never get hungover?” you grumbled at him as you entered the kitchen, finding him at the stove.

“Good morning to you, too, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Seriously,” you continued as you took a seat at the kitchen island, “I swear I get hungover enough for the both of us.”

“Thank you for taking on that burden,” Doyoung replied sweetly, which you responded to with a spiteful glower. It doesn’t last long, however; Doyoung finishes cooking breakfast, and dishes you up a serving. Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, baked beans, hash browns, and toast. As much as you playfully bickered with Doyoung, he was an absolute treasure.

“Doie, you’re a gift from the heavens,” you praise him, the sight of the warm, greasy food reviving your soul almost immediately.

Doyoung took a seat next to you, placing down a plate of his own breakfast. “So,” he began, “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Huh?” you asked, suddenly wondering if you’d forgotten something drastic. “Did we…”

“Oh my god, no,” Doyoung denied quickly.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh in relief. Your best friend was attractive, definitely. But you saw him as more of a sibling than a lover.

Doyoung waited a moment before explaining, and with each second that passed, your suspicions rose. “My mom… She’s invited you to spend the holidays with us.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. That confession was a lot tamer than what you’d expected. “Sure, that sounds great. I was spending the holidays alone this year anyways.”

“There’s a catch.”

You dropped your knife and fork onto your plate. “Doyoung,” you groan, “Why is there always a catch?”

“My mom thinks we’re dating.” Doyoung pointedly avoided your eye contact while he spoke.

“And you corrected her, right?” you asked, fearing the worst. Doyoung’s silence only confirmed your fears. “Right?”

“She was so happy when she thought I was dating someone! And she’s been on my back about settling down forever,” Doyoung rambled, trying to save himself from your wrath - to no avail.

“Doyoung!”

“Please, Y/N. It’ll only be for a few days,” he pleaded, clasping his hands together and giving you his very best puppy-dog eyes. And you had to admit, they were some top-notch puppy-dog eyes.

You gave a resigned sigh, and Doyoung cheered. “Fine. But only because I really want to try your mom’s cookies.”

“You’re the best friend in the world,” Doyoung complimented you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You whined at him, fighting the urge to bat away his affections; in your hungover state, you were not at all ready for hugs.

“Then make me some more hash browns,” you grumbled. If Doyoung was prepared to put you in this situation, he’d better also be prepared to pay you for it.

“You got it, best friend,” Doyoung beamed at you, getting up to obey your command. “You should pack those Christmas pyjamas you’re wearing, by the way. My mom would love them.” You scowled at him. He immediately backed down, waving away his previous statement. “We can figure out the logistics later.”

“You better make this worth my while, Kim Doyoung.” When he served you your hash browns, you were still scowling.

As the taxi pulled up at Doyoung’s childhood home, you couldn’t help but marvel at it. You raised a hand to the cab’s window, looking out at the idyllic cottage, rooftop covered in snow, decked out in twinkling Christmas lights. The environment had grown increasingly more peaceful as you had travelled out of Seoul and deeper into the countryside, picturesque hills and winding valleys rolling past the train windows. This place felt worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was difficult to feel even slightly stressed. Even if the situation your best friend had put you in was less than ideal, this was an absolutely beautiful place to spend the holidays - it looked like it had jumped straight out of a Christmas card.

Despite the beautiful winter wonderland before you, you still weren’t prepared for the cold that hit you when you stepped out of the cab. You busied yourself getting the luggage from the trunk while Doyoung paid the driver.

“Are you ready?” Doyoung asked you, looking into your eyes sincerely.

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You gave him a smile, reassuring him. The truth was, you were truly excited to spend the holidays with Doyoung and his mother; you were excited to meet her, to eat her home cooking, to hear stories about Doyoung in his youth. You just had some qualms about the whole fake relationship pretense, and you really didn’t want to let your best friend down.

“Y/N?” Doyoung spoke, taking bags out of your hands.

“Yeah?” you asked, watching wistfully as the taxi drove away.

Doyoung smirked at you. “Just try your best not to fall in love with me for real, okay?”

You rolled your eyes so hard they practically fell out of your head. “You wish.” Just as the cottage door swung open, you reached for Doyoung’s hand, holding it tightly. So began the relationship charade.

“Doyoung, my boy,” his mother beamed, coming out to greet her son. It was hard not to smile upon seeing her - she was clearly over the moon to see you and Doyoung, and her joy was infectious. She was a small woman, but you had gathered from Doyoung’s description that she certainly had a big character. She welcomed her son into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “You don’t visit home enough, Doyoung,” she chided lovingly.

“And you must be Y/N,” she spoke, moving her gaze onto you. She looked at you fondly, and you beamed back at her. “You’re so beautiful,” she praised you.

Your cheeks, already red from the cold, blazed a little brighter. “Thank you, Mrs Kim.”

She wagged a finger at you. “Mrs Kim, you make me sound so aged. Please, call me Mom.” She turned around, welcoming the two of you inside, and you shared a smile with Doyoung.

The interior of the cottage was every bit as charming as the exterior. Family photos decorated the walls, and warm rugs hugged the floors. You supposed the home would have a cozy feeling all year round, but now, in the festive season, the place was dressed up to the nines. Lavish paper chains were strung up, along with twinkling lights and boughs of holly. Not to mention the Christmas tree; though not huge it was still sizeable, likely the biggest Mrs Kim could fit through the cottage door. It was embellished with golden tinsel and crimson baubles.

“Your home is so beautiful,” you commended. “Did you decorate yourself?”

“All by myself,” Doyoung’s mother confirmed proudly.

“This must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up,” you marvelled, your comment pointed towards Doyoung, who smiled back at you appreciatively.

“Oh, the stories I have about Doyoung growing up,” Mrs Kim said, and you detected a mischievous tone.

“I can’t wait to hear them,” you grinned.

“And see them!” she added. “I have so many photo albums.”

Doyoung groaned, while you and Mrs Kim laughed in the presence of his misery. Yes, you decided. You were going to enjoy this visit very much.

When you settled into bed that night, you were beyond exhausted. Doyoung’s mother had kindly set you up in the spare room, which was delightfully warm and snug. Doyoung’s childhood bedroom contained only a single bed, whereas the spare room had a double bed to accommodate you - the ‘couple.’ Though it had only been a few hours since you’d arrived that afternoon, the gravity of your situation had well and truly sunk in. The performative affection you and Doyoung had been carrying out was alien, equal parts strange and comical.

“I can’t believe the amount of times you called me Honey today,” Doyoung scoffed amusedly, dressed in his blue flannel pyjamas with his dark hair laying flat and fluffy on his forehead. He turned off the big light to leave the room illuminated by the warm glow of the table lamps, before climbing into bed beside you.

“Mock me all you want, Doyoung, but I think I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you return smugly.

“Well, I can’t imagine it’s hard. I’m very easy to love. You on the other hand?” Doyoung faked a weary sigh. “I have my work cut out for me.” You flicked Doyoung on the forehead, snickering when he yelped.

You yawned, depositing your phone on the bedside table and snuggling down into the blankets. Though you were exhausted, and the cottage was immensely cozy, it always felt a little strange to fall asleep in a new place. You were thankful for the company of your best friend, who always put you at ease.

“I hate sharing a bed with you,” you grumbled your complaint. Despite the comfort he brought you, he wasn’t the easiest person to sleep with. “You starfish. I always wake up with, like, one centimetre of bed space.”

Doyoung dropped his phone, letting it fall onto the blankets. He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “One centimetre?”

“Yeah, one centimetre!” you insisted.

“Well, I always wake up with your cold feet on my legs,” he rebutted.

“Yeah, well-” you sputtered. “It’s not my fault you’re a living hot water bottle!”

“And it’s not my fault you’re always cold. Yet I’m always punished with your horrible cold feet.” You laughed back at him; the normality of your bickering helped to put you at ease.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggested, yawning again. “I don’t wanna miss your mom’s cookies tomorrow morning - I wanna try them while they’re warm.”

“Mmm, good idea,” Doyoung agreed, eyes wide with the thought of his mother’s cookies.

“Goodnight, butthead,” you teased your friend, turning off the lamp beside you.

“Sleep well, idiot,” he replied fondly.

Thoughts of warm chocolate-chip cookies were the last things on your mind before you fell asleep, and you were lucky enough to have them drift through your dreams that night.

As you slowly woke up, gradually returning to the land of the conscious, you first became aware of how delightfully warm you were. A light winter sun was shining through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft white light. You sighed, hugging your pillow closer to you, but furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you found it to be much firmer and less pliant than a pillow.

“Nice to see you’ve finally awakened. You drooled on my pyjamas.” Doyoung’s voice was gentle, and lacked any real annoyance.

“What time is it?” you asked, rolling off the boy.

“Half nine,” he told you, looking at his phone screen. You digested the information as Doyoung got out of bed, stretching his muscles which had stiffened from sleep.

“Now that I’m finally free,” he stared at you pointedly, “I’m gonna take a shower. There’s another bathroom down the hall if you want to wash up.” You nodded, accomplishing your own satisfying stretch in bed.

A while later, fresh and ready for the day, adorned in your favourite comfy sweater, you made your way downstairs, trying to dampen down your high, high hopes for cookies.

“Good morning, Mrs Kim,” you greeted the woman with a smile. A smile that increased tenfold when you saw she was, in fact, in the middle of preparing cookies.

“I already told you to call me Mom, darling,” she chastised gently. “Did you sleep well?”

You gave her a nod, silently thinking about the several times you woke up to Doyoung kicking you through the night.

“Lovely,” she commented. “I’m making cookies, would you like to help?”

“I’d love to,” you answered honestly. “Your cookies are kind of famous back in Seoul. Doyoung never stops talking about them.”

“That boy and his cookies,” she remarked with affection.

Doyoung’s mother set you off to work making another batch of mixture, as she began her duties with the rolling pin. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, and you marvelled at how much she put you at ease. She was a warm lady, the kind of mother figure a person is lucky to have.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me everything,” she spoke after a while. “How did you and Doyoung meet?”

“Ah,” you mumbled, gearing yourself up to talk about your fake-boyfriend. “Well, we work together. I joined the company about two years ago, and Doyoung was the one to show me the ropes.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Mrs Kim asked you sweetly.

You turned away from the cookie dough, choking a little at the mention of romance with Doyoung, as you remembered the first time you met the man.

You were almost trembling as your new boss showed you around the office; this was your first “grown-up” job and you were the very definition of nervous. You were thankful for your brand-new black blazer which covered the sweat stains that you knew were building.

“And this,” your boss introduced you, “Is Kim Doyoung. He’ll help you settle in.”

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered Doyoung your hand to shake, which he accepted.

Doyoung waited for your boss to leave before speaking. “So,” he began with a smirk, “How hard did he try to be ‘relatable’ and ‘down with the kids?’”

You hid your laugh behind a cough. “He’s a little out of touch, huh?”

“A little?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, laughing alongside you.

“Is it okay to talk about the boss like this? We’re supposed to respect him, right?” you asked your new coworker, a little uncertainly.

“Ah, Y/N, of course we respect him,” Doyoung tutted at you, before adding, “To his face.”

Doyoung had you in stitches your entire first day. Though he tried not to show it, you hadn’t seen anybody try so hard to help you become comfortable and calm. He had been easing your nerves since day one.

“Yeah,” you confirmed as you recovered. “I think it was.” Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight in a romantic sense, but the two of you definitely connected on a personal level right away.

“So romantic,” Doyoung’s mother cooed as she rolled out the dough. “What do you love most about him?”

“Hm.” You paused, taking a moment to think. It was true that you loved a lot of Doyoung’s qualities - he was your best friend after all. He was always supportive, an ever-present shoulder to cry on. He was funny, and kind, and pleasant to be around. You always had fun together. “I love a lot of things about him,” you answered truthfully.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she agreed with you jovially, to which you smiled and nodded. “Now, I don’t want to rush you,” she continued, “But will you and Doyoung be giving me grandchildren any time soon?”

You choked on your spit, just as Doyoung entered the kitchen, coming to your rescue.

“Speak of the devil,” his mom noted affectionately, as she loaded the full trays into the oven.

“Cookies?” Doyoung’s eyes glinted hopefully. His hair was still damp from the shower, dripping and leaving wet droplets on his plain white t-shirt.

“Yes, in about fifteen minutes,” she confirmed. “You can wait that long, right?”

“Oh,” Doyoung moaned, “I don’t know. I can feel my life escaping from me as we speak.” He collapsed at the kitchen table behind you, falling onto the chair as he pretended to faint. You chuckled at his antics, reaching over to ruffle his still-wet hair adoringly. You caught his mother looking over at the two of you fondly, and you smiled, a little self-conscious.

It felt more natural than you’d imagined, being cute and cozy with Doyoung in this false relationship. You supposed your friendship was a little more affectionate than you realised. Now that you thought about it, there was a certain tenderness that was common between the two of you - aside from the constant snipping and bickering, that was.

You’d never considered that you could be suited to a life outside the city, but the longer you spent in the charming countryside, the more ideal it felt. On your second morning of your winter break, you and Doyoung had donned your warmest winter gear (hats, scarves, and gloves included) and set out on a walk down the rustic lanes that your best friend had once called home. Though there were no eyes on you, and logically you didn’t have to keep up your fake-dating pretence in these hidden moments, shared only by you and Doyoung, the two of you held hands as you ambled down the snow-covered roads. It was an unspoken act, and one that felt strangely comfortable and oddly natural. You didn’t accredit too much thought to it; best friends could hold hands, if they wished to.

“We’re almost there,” Doyoung told you, after a short time of walking.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Where?” You hadn’t thought you were walking with any specific location in mind - you’d assumed the pair of you were meandering through the countryside with no direction.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, leaving you wondering.

Not long later, Doyoung directed you towards an opening in the shrubbery at the side of the lane, maneuvering himself over a stile before helping you over. The field you found yourself in was empty, the normally green meadow blanketed in completely untouched white. The only thing standing in the field, other than you and Doyoung was an old, rather dilapidated-looking barn. You imagined it once blazed a beautiful scarlet, although the years and the weather had chipped and faded its coat, leaving it a patchy maroon.

“Who does this belong to?” you asked, reclaiming Doyoung’s hand as you approached the barn together.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung countered. “Nobody, I think. It’s been abandoned as long as I can remember.”

“It’s a little creepy,” you commented apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, there aren’t any ghosts,” Doyoung mocked you, although it was devoid of any cruelty.

The door creaked as Doyoung pushed it open, and you didn’t entirely trust it not to fall completely off its hinges. The interior of the barn was a dark contrast to the stark white of the winter wonderland outside, although some sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden structure.

“Welcome to my secret clubhouse,” Doyoung introduced you. Your hands fell apart, as Doyoung left your side to venture to the back of the dwelling, finding a rickety swing that hung from the rafters, constructed of two pieces of rope and a plank of wood. He sat on it, swinging lightly and you were surprised to find that it managed to support his weight.

“How many of your romantic conquests have you brought here before me?” you teased, examining his hangout.

“You’re the first.”

The barn wasn’t particularly exciting, but there was a certain buzz to be derived from gaining a little bit of insight to Doyoung’s past. The floors of the building were no longer lined with hay, but dirt and dust, featuring intermittent weeds and plants. A tree had reached its spindly branches inside the structure, intertwining itself with the beams and pillars. You perched yourself atop an old stool that was sitting amid the weeds and rubble.

“Did you put that swing up yourself?” you asked, eyeing its stability.

“Yep,” Doyoung confirmed. “All by myself. I climbed right up into the rafters to fasten it.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself,” you remarked. The barn was a rather significant height, and it can’t have been safe for a young boy to scale the wooden bones of the building, likely aided by the serpentine branches of the oak tree.

“When I was a kid I thought I was superman,” Doyoung said, and you could see him reminiscing internally. You watched, captivated, as he looked around the tattered old barn which was clearly a sentimental place for him. He was beautiful, your best friend. Eyes that shined, dark as the night; a nose that sloped almost perfectly; pink lips that looked best when smiling. Though the winter was a cold one, your heart was warmed by your love for Doyoung. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply existing together without any demand or pressure to make unnecessary conversation.

“We should get back home,” Doyoung spoke after a while, standing and stretching. “My mom is making hotpot for lunch.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with enthusiasm. Spending time with your best friend, taking walks through the beautiful countryside, and being fed homemade dishes for every meal. This Christmas holiday may just be the best thing to ever happen to you.

Christmas morning came much more swiftly than you expected. The homely atmosphere of the cottage, the domestic haven where Doyoung spent his youth, felt like a sweet sanctuary that existed outside of the linear flow of time. Early morning walks down dew-covered lanes gave way to plentiful lunches that you savoured, which morphed into homely afternoons that eased into sleepy evenings around the fireplace. It was the sweet retreat you hadn’t realised you’d needed, and you were remarkably upset that you had to return to the city the following day.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll put this to good use,” you grinned at Mrs Kim as you handed over the Christmas present you’d brought her. She unwrapped the parcel, although the shape didn’t quite leave room for a discreet gift, to reveal a bottle of red wine.

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to use this,” she responded, a teasing twinkle in her eye as you shared a laugh together.

“Y/N,” Doyoung spoke, handing you a small box wrapped in festive paper. “Here.” He was already wearing the watch you had gifted him with. You peeled back the wrapping, opening the box to find a delicate silver necklace, hanging from it a shining silver jewel. It looked expensive; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a real diamond.

“Wow,” you gasped, at a complete loss for words.

“Let me put it on you,” Doyoung offered, and you let him.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him. “Thank you.” He smiled back sincerely.

Doyoung’s mother reached under the Christmas tree, bringing out two identically wrapped packages, square-shaped and squishy. “You kids open your presents together; I made them matching for you.”

You tore into the paper, opening the bundle to reveal a mass of knitted wool, soft and burgundy. You lifted it up to reveal a beautiful, intricate Christmas sweater - and noticed that Doyoung was holding an identical one.

“They’re so beautiful, Mrs Kim,” you complimented her, a little starstruck; though you knew Mrs Kim had handcrafted them, they looked like they were bought from a shop. They were of the most perfect quality, and looked splendidly snug and cozy.

“Yeah, thanks Mom,” Doyoung added, admiring the material. He waited until she looked away, taking a sip of her hot cocoa, before turning to you and muttering “Matching Christmas sweaters?” accompanied by a fake gag. You looked away, finding it almost impossible to stifle the giggle that bubbled up within you. They were beautiful, and you were endlessly grateful for the homemade gift, but Doyoung’s comment had amused you.

Mrs Kim looked at you with a knowing expression, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d noticed the exchange.

“Now you know I wasn’t kidding about my mom’s homemade cooking,” Doyoung said as he worked on the mountain of dishes in the sink.

“You really weren’t,” you agreed, stood next to him with a towel to dry the porcelain. You typically weren’t such a big fan of turkey, but something about the way Mrs Kim cooked it meant that it was surprisingly delicious. You had gone back for several helpings of the meal, encouraged by Doyoung’s mother, who seemed to derive pleasure from keeping people well-fed.

“I need a nap,” Doyoung declared, and you shared his experience of full-stomach sleepiness.

The pair of you finished up in the kitchen, and moved to the living room where Doyoung’s mother had relocated.

“Ah!” she stopped you in the doorway, before you could enter. “Look.”

You followed her pointed finger, to the green sprigs hanging in the archway. Mistletoe. Doyoung gave an awkward chuckle.

“Mistletoe for the lovers,” his mother chortled gleefully.

Doyoung captured you in his embrace, and your heart began to beat a little faster - was he really going to kiss you? You closed your eyes as he moved into you, and felt his lips peck your forehead. You smiled, before pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. In the spirit of Christmas. Doyoung’s eyes widened, and you laughed as his mother cheered. You followed her into the living room, making yourself comfortable on the couch that had no right being as cozy as it was. Doyoung’s cheeks were still red when he joined you, taking a seat on the couch alongside you.

The television was on, playing some old Christmas movie you vaguely recognised but had never seen. You brought your legs up onto the couch, snuggling into Doyoung’s side and nestling in further when he wrapped his arm around you. The film was already halfway through, and you were too sleepy to pay attention. It wasn’t long before you began nodding off to sleep, and you knew Doyoung was doing the same. Comfortable and relaxed, you let it happen, easing into a well-deserved nap with your best friend. Just as you fell into the unconscious, you sensed Doyoung’s mother draping a blanket over you both, and you smiled gratefully before letting yourself go.

“Taxi’s here!” Doyoung announced from his point of watch at the front door.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Doyoung’s mother pouted.

You agreed with a sad smile. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs Kim,” you bid her goodbye as Doyoung took your luggage out to the car.

“Beautiful Y/N,” she smiled back at you, taking your hands in her own. “Tell me the truth here.”

You blinked, surprised at her direct request. “Of course.”

“You and Doyoung aren’t really dating, are you?”

“I-”

“It’s okay, my love,” she reassured you. “Don’t worry about it. That Doyoung, he’ll do anything if he thinks it’ll please me.”

“He’s a good boy,” you commented, to which Mrs Kim nodded in agreement. “But how did you know?” You’d thought you’d given a pretty convincing show.

“Nothing gets past me,” she responded, her eyes glinting. “Listen. Doyoung’s partner or not, I can tell that you’re important to him. And for that, you’ll always be a member of this family. You’re always welcome in this home, Y/N.”

You swallowed back tears, touched by her warm words, and by how genuine they were. “Thank you, Mom.”

The older lady pulled you in for a hug, just as Doyoung called out to you, “Y/N, we gotta go.”

“You have my number, right?” Mrs Kim checked, and you nodded. “And keep that cookie recipe safe - three generations old, that is!”

“Of course,” you assured her, retreating to the taxi as Doyoung said his goodbyes to her.

“Come back soon, you two!”

“We will,” you and Doyoung promised her in unison.

Settled in the back of the taxi, you heaved a sigh. It had been a beautiful holiday period, but part of you was happy to be returning to the security of your own home. And an even bigger part of you was relieved to drop the act of being Doyoung’s partner.

Doyoung looked at you, a tired look in his eyes. “Y/N, I love you so much-”

“But we could never date,” you completed his statement, sensing its direction.

“Never,” agreed Doyoung with a laugh.

The two of you were much better off as friends. It would be a lie to say you’d never wondered what it would be like if your relationship ever happened to cross that boundary, but you were sated by the lesson you’d learned over the last week. Your relationship was platonic, and was destined to remain that way. That didn’t mean your relationship was any less significant than that of a romantic couple, though. Doyoung was your family. And you were beyond lucky to have found him.

150 notes · View notes

something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

Text

I Thought I Dreamed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Dismembered body parts, mentions of blood, and that’s about it??

A/N: HOLY SHIT GUYS ITS FINISHED. Oh my goodness that was hard, I don’t understand why. I still hardcore hate it, but I love you guys too much to leave you hanging. So here is part two to Dreams. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for sticking around through my terrible writer blocks.

...

[ Part One ]

“You’re sure it isn’t just a concussion?” Your fiancé says, his voice cracking with nerves. The bathroom tile of your hotel room is cool beneath your legs, Spencer sits directly across from you with your feet in his lap and his fingers tracing worried patterns across your shins.

Above your head on the bathroom counter, is a pregnancy test that still has three more minutes to come up with a yes or no answer to the question you were pretty sure you already knew the answer to. Balanced in your lap is a book about dream analysis that you’d picked up on the way to the hotel tonight.

“I had a dream, Spence. This books says that nearly everything about my dream pointed to me being pregnant.” His eyes narrow, one hand reaching out to flip through the pages you’ve tagged with sticky bookmarks. Your soon to be husband is a book fanatic, you’d learned early on that dog-eared pages were the antichrist of all book lovers everywhere.

“If you are pregnant, I can assure you that the dream was just your subconscious telling you what it had already pieced together before your conscious mind.” The clock outside the bathroom door ticks slowly. You think back to the little boy in your dream, and as scary as having two children so close together in age may be, you can’t help but be a little excited at the thought of a baby Spencer in the world.

“You don’t believe in dream analysis, so your opinion on the matter is biased.”

“Arguably, every opinion is biased. No one person can be one-hundred percent objective no matter the circumstances.” He’d have Spencer’s eyes, Graeson does already and she’s not even half a year old. Was it wrong of you to hope that all your children with Spencer would look and be exactly like him? Hopefully, in terms of intelligence, they would both be carbon copies of their father.

The tears that come to your eyes surprise you when you think about him taking the kids to a museum, holding your son in his arms and one of his fingers wrapped in your daughter’s grasp as he explains every artifact and display. Hastily, you reach up to wipe at the streams of water that wet your cheeks. Spencer sets the book aside, leaning forward worriedly.

Ashamed of your sudden mood swing, another blatant sign that you could be pregnant, you avoid eye contact by staring at the clock.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle, his hands reaching out to smooth down the sides of your arms, “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Your nose crinkles as you try to bite back the next onslaught of tears, hoping the last minute will go by fast. When you finally meet his gaze, the puddles of emotion that collected in your eyes spill over once again.

“You’ll take them to museums, right? You’ll make sure our kids aren’t dumb, right?” You don’t know why it’s so important to you, but the helplessness you feel is all too familiar as you recall a similar moment from your previous pregnancy.

“(Y/N). Breathe. Calm down.” You look up at your boyfriend from the bathtub, feeling not unlike a beached whale with your oversized stomach poking over the surface of the water surrounding you. The sides of the tub dig into your fingers as you grip the edges so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“I can’t calm down, Spencer! I don’t have enough time. I’m not prepared. If I’m not prepared now then who is to say I’m even supposed to be a mother? What if I completely screw our kid up? I don’t-” The air in your lungs doesn’t feel like enough and it feels like all too much at the same time. You’ve never felt like this before, especially not in the middle of a relaxing bath.

Slowly, Spencer reaches into the tub and pulls the stopper out of the bottom. With his other hand, he helps to pull you to your feet and wrap you in a soft, pink towel. He keeps making shushing noises like it’s going to help the overwhelming anxiety of becoming a new parent and, as much as you love him, it makes you want to scream.

But just before you give into your urges, he steps in front of you and lowers himself so that you don’t have to look up to meet his eyes. Either one of his hands come up to cradle your cheeks, you wonder if he notices the weight you’ve gained there since you started nearing your due date.

“You won’t screw our kid up. We will, together.” And you can’t help but let the laughter bubble out of your chest as you lean into him, letting his arms wrap around you as you lay your soaking wet head over his heart.

“We will, together.” He says again, reaching up to wipe a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. When he closes the distance to press a kiss to your forehead, causing you to close your eyes and force a deep breathe in through your nose, he plucks the test from the counter.

“Spencer! I thought this was a together thing!” You jump to your feet, reaching for the test that he has hanging over your head just out of reach.

“It is babe, but you have the advantage of knowing before me when it comes to these things and I just really want to know first one time.” You whine in protest, trying to determine the results on the small pink stick by profiling his body language.

His hand still up in the air, he tilts the small window toward his face. Both eyebrows go up, but his expression stays emotionless otherwise. Not even a muscle in his cheeks twitch. He’s way too good at hiding things when he wants to.

“Spencer.” You warn in your best imitation of Hotch’s commanding voice, stretching back up on your toes, your fingertips brush the plastic siding before he wraps his free arm around your back and pulls you to his chest. His kisses are like soft butterfly wings against your cheeks, eyelids, chin, forehead, and eventually lips.

In the two years you’ve been with Spencer, there have been all kinds of kisses. Kisses of burning passion and simmering anger, kisses of a deep and slow love, kisses of overwhelming joy and uncontrollable relief, but it’s this kind of kiss you’ve only ever felt once before.

The hand holding the test comes down to cradle your face, a thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. It reminds you of the way an art enthusiast might reach out to touch a painting or sculpture in awe, his lips moving against your own like you were a Goddess that he was praying to with complete faith and devotion.

When he finally broke away, his eyelashes damp with happy tears (and maybe a few scared tears), the facade is shattered and you can read his face like an open book.

“You’re getting really good at that mom voice for someone with a five month old.” He teased.

“And one on the way?” You have to make sure, you want to hear it come from his lips. Screw the test.

“Did you dream it was a boy, because I think it would be really cool if we had a boy this time.” You laugh into his lips, throwing both arms around his neck and bringing him down to your level. The curls that sway at his shoulder brush against the crooks of your elbows before you tangle your fingers into his hair.

And then, just like the horny teenagers you two definitely were around each other, he bends down and swoops you into his arms. The high pitched squealing laugh that bubbled between both of your lips came from you as he started to turn back to the hotel room.

“Now I’m really gonna have to make up for lost time while I can.” He teases, turning sideways so your feet and head don’t hit the doorframe.

The next day, back on the case of the dead girls with missing hands, the team notices the different energy between you. Like the way Spencer’s mouth opens in protest when Hotch suggests you accompany Morgan to the house of a possible suspect. You glare daggers at him from the door, a silent conversation flying between you before he finally closes his mouth and sinks into his seat. It did not go unnoticed by every other person in the room.

Or the day after that, when you offer to go get coffee for everyone instead of letting them drink nasty precinct coffee. (Something you used to do a lot when you’d been pregnant with Graeson and the places you went didn’t have decaf.)

The biggest tip off is the passing of peppermints between you and Spencer, the young doctor having somehow found the time to go to a convenience store and buy a bulk sized bag of the red and white candies to help with your nausea. The bag crinkles when he reaches into his satchel every so often.

Despite the fact that they all catch on pretty quickly, nobody says anything. They figure that you’ll tell them when you’re ready. Instead they focus on the case, which had been your hope the whole time.

You’re near the end of the investigation at this point, sucking on a peppermint and racing for one of the two addresses that Garcia had sent to your phones. Just this morning, another body had been found. His fuse was getting smaller as the days had passed and the investigation crawled at an unusually slow pace, meaning you were cutting it close to the wire if you wanted to save whatever poor girl had unknowingly incurred this man’s wrath.

With you, on the way to the workplace of a Ryan Christopher, is JJ, Hotch, and Prentiss. Rossi, Morgan, and Reid have their own car headed for his home. You’re in the backseat, holding onto your stomach and the edge of the leather bench seat as Hotch races through traffic. Garcia is explaining her findings over the speakerphone, you can hear Morgan and Reid interjecting every so often with their own thoughts and comments.

It isn’t until the SUV that you’ve been sliding around in finally bumps into the parking lot outside of a carpentry workshop that Hotch ends the call. The boys on one of the other two ends of the line say their own salutations, also approaching the unsub’s home.

“Be careful!” Spencer shouts to you over everyone. It’s really cute. You would dwell on it more, but given the fact that you were about to walk into a possible altercation with an unsub, you decided that staying sharp and focused was the way to go.

Quickly, all three FBI Agents slip out of the car, clustering together long enough to come up with a game plan. You rush for the back door, JJ gets the side, and Hotch readies himself at the front. It isn’t until every room in the workshop is clear that a little tension leaves your shoulders.

It’s obvious that he’s been here though, with giant pools of blood dried onto a workbench in one of the rooms. And if you weren’t sure of this man’s guilt before, then the small freezer full of hands that is bolted shut is enough to convince you otherwise.

“What is the point in bolting something shut if you have bolt cutters lying in the same room?” JJ comments, tossing her pale gold pony over her shoulder before letting the tool settle against the strap of her Kevlar.

You turn away from the freezer to try and quell the rolling in your stomach.

“I’m going to call Morgan to see if they have anything.” At this point, they should have cleared the house or arrested him, making you feel comfortable enough to pull out your phone and dial Derek’s number. He answers on the second ring, his tone of voice telling you everything that you need to know.

“Hey Mamacita, I’m gonna go ahead and assume he’s not over there?” The rest of the tension that you had been unconsciously holding in your chest leaves with the breath of relief that deflates your lungs. You shake your head, walking away from the freezer of hands to tell him everything you’d found in the ten minutes you’d been inside the workshop.

“That’s just a little gross,” Morgan comments. “Hey Spencer- Spencer!” His voice goes up an octave, booming through the speaker and reverberating in your ear.

“Morgan?! Morgan, what’s wrong?!” The sound of the phone clattering to the floor and a single gunshot is the only response you receive before you’re racing back outside.

The tires of the SUV screech against the asphalt outside Ryan Christopher’s home. Your heart leaped out of your chest with the wild swing of the vehicle underneath you. Ambulances, SUVs, and police cruisers scatter the road and lawn in front of you, several faces lifting to find the source of the sound.

“(Y/N)!” JJ cried, white knuckling the arm of her seat and the ‘Oh Shit’ handle above her head. The car was barely in park when you fumbled for the latch of your seatbelt, kicking the door open and rushing into the hordes of first responders.

You should have never agreed to let them separate you from each other. That was the only thing you could think the moment you heard Morgan cry your fiancé’s name over the phone.

“Spencer?!” You pushed past a couple of local cops who shot you dirty looks when you shoved your way between them. Your eyes couldn’t take in all the details around you fast enough, all you could focus on was finding the top of a curly brown head of hair. Rossi was the first to come up to you, grabbing you by the shoulders and meeting your eyes with a steady gaze.

“Don’t panic.” He said in the least reassuring manner humanly possible. You didn’t give him time to explain before you tore from his arms and ducked around him.

Ambulance. He would be in an ambulance. If he’s hurt that bad, you hope the ambulance has already left, but at the same time you need to see him. If you don’t you might actually vomit right here in the middle of everyone.

“SPENCER REID!” The sound came from your chest, booming over the clamor and bustle of everyone around you. More people stopped and stared as you stumbled toward the emergency vehicles parked at the other side of the mass of people. You didn’t care. The lack of response was setting you on edge.

Just before you could yell his name again, he suddenly appeared like a ghost might appear out of thin air. He certainly was as pale as a ghost, sitting at the end of an open ambulance with an ice pack gingerly held against the back of his head. One of his lanky arms was raised into the air, waving you over.

When you flew into his arms, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his familiar scent of coffee and laundry soap, he grunted a little in pain.

“Careful, I’m not broke but I’m definitely sore.” You loosened your grip from around his ribs, leaning back and beginning an assessment of his limbs and appendages. Everything was, thankfully, in its rightful place, but cuts and freshly forming bruises were littered all over his arms and face.

“We weren’t even separated an hour and this is how I come back to find you? Do you have no concern for my nerves? My sanity?!” Your voice is shrill with residual panic, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt so that they wouldn’t shake. Slowly, Spencer lowers the ice pack to the ambulance flooring before looping his arm around the tops of your shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, letting you ramble away the hysteria as he presses his lips to the crown of your head.

“You can’t ever get hurt, Spencer. We have a baby. We have two babies, actually. Stress is bad for pregnant women, you can’t put me under this kind of stress, I just, how could you be so careless? What even happened? You know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’m so mad at you right now, Spencer Reid. Just you wait until I’m not consumed with relief that you’re not dead, I might kill you myself.”

The tears wetting your cheeks betray your words, the rant loosing any of its sting as your voice cracks through it.

Putting his hands on either side of your face, he lifts your head up until you’re staring into those eyes you love so much that it actually rips your heart into a thousand tiny pieces every time you think about it.

“Breathe. Didn’t you just say stress isn’t good for the baby?” You want to punch him in the mouth and kiss him senseless at the same time, narrowing your eyes and fighting the smile that Spencer can already see twisting the edges of your lips.

“If you ever do that again-” You start to say, trying and failing to shake away the nightmarish possibilities you’d conjured up in your head on the twenty minute drive from Ryan’s workshop. Spencer smothers your rant into his chest when he folds you back into his arms, cradling the back of your head in one of his large hands.

“I will be more considerate of your nerves going forward, Mrs. Bennet.” He teases. You playfully swat at his back before finally letting his embrace settle over you with it’s usual calming affect.

…

“So are we allowed to talk about how you’re pregnant again?” JJ teases from the front of the elevator, unable to contain her own excitement when she notices the way you and Spencer have your heads leaned together in secret near the back.

Your head pops up, nearly bumping against your fiancée’s with the speed in which move to look at JJ. A cursory sweep across the faces of the rest of the team tells you that JJ isn’t the only one who had connected the dots.

“I hate working with profilers.” You groan, thankful for the ding that signals the opening doors. The sight of the BAU is very much welcome, calling to your fatigued limbs the way a siren might call to a pirate ship. This is your last stop before your bed. Your mother always babysat Graeson in your own home, which made it so much easier when you came back late and you weren’t in the mood to stop by her house at one or two o’clock in the morning to pick up your daughter.

“Hey, don’t get mad at us because you and pretty boy are terrible at keeping secrets.” Morgan teases, elbowing Spencer on his way out of the cramped elevator.

“And using contraceptive, apparently.” Prentiss comments as she goes about shuffling papers and files between bags on her desk. You send her a teasing glare, only letting her slide when she pulls you in for a congratulatory hug.

After she lets go, everyone files in one by one for their own congratulations, patting Spencer on the back (lightly, he has a minor concussion and some serious bruises) and squeezing you into excited hugs. Once Rossi pulls away with a teasing remark about how you find the time for sex between cases and a five month old baby, you pick up your things.

“Ready to go home?” Spencer smiles from his desk, gathering his own things into his arms before making his way over to you.

“I’ve been ready for hours.” You sigh, making your way back to the elevator. Someone shouts a last minute congratulations to you before you get to the clear doors. The sound of hurried heels clicking against the floor stops you in your tracks.

Somehow, in all the exhaustion and all the chaos, you’d forgotten Garcia.

“YOU’RE WHAT?”

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #criminal mind imagine #spencer reid angst #spence reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert

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maybeimamuppet · 4 years ago

Text

the second first date

this week on ezzy can’t title: this. quick tw for brief discussion of self harm and a mentioned suicide attempt, but this is 99.9999% cute fluff.

Cady had a tendency to talk in her sleep, as Janis had learned during several sleepovers. Most of the time it didn't make sense to Janis (or Cady the next morning) but wasn't particularly concerning. Things like:

"Janis. I hate oranges." Good to know. Or, "Janis, the birds are back." Mildly alarming, but they she didn't seem bothered by them. Or, "Janis, why do we have eyebrows?" A valid question.

Occasionally it was cute little things, like:

"Janis, you're my favorite." Janis had to fight to contain a squeal. Or, "You're so pretty." Janis just blushed violently and continued listening. Or, "I need more snuggles." Obviously, Janis pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

And every once in a while it was something particularly ominous that kept Janis lying awake after, like:

"When did I die?" Huh? Past tense? Or, "How does it know?" How does what know? Or, "Don't mess with me, I know lions." A genuine threat, thankfully not aimed at Janis (she hopes).

Which is why Janis is more than a little concerned when Cady suddenly sits bolt upright in the middle of the night, Janis bracing herself for whatever strange things will come out of Cady's sleep addled mind next. But then Cady turns to her, and she's awake.

"I never got to take you on a surprise date. Our first date was your turn, I never got my turn," She says blearily, eyes full of genuine concern.

"Shh, baby. You can start planning your surprise date in the morning. Go back to sleep, it's late, Princess," Janis croons, pulling Cady back into her embrace.

"Mmkay," Cady hums, seeming content with that as she tucks herself into Janis' neck and falls back asleep almost immediately.

When Janis wakes up the next morning, Cady is already at her desk, scribbling away in a notebook. "Why are you all the way over there?" Janis whines sleepily, reaching for her.

"Because you pushed me out of bed and stole all the blankets, you loon. I figured I might as well get started planning," Cady giggles, coming back over for their morning cuddles.

"What do you have so far?" Janis asks, her voice still rough with sleep.

"The whole point is that it's a surprise, Jay. You'll find out when it happens," Cady answers, pulling Janis into her lap.

"Fine," Janis grumbles. She likes knowing things. "When is it happening?"

"Saturday?"

Janis checks her calendar on her phone, sometimes her mom makes her watch her sister on Saturdays. "Works for me, baby," She answers when nothing appears.

"Good," Cady answers. She's has about a week to prepare now, which she needs. She only came up with half an idea.

One Janis goes home, Cady immediately pulls out her phone and sends a text to her group chat with the former Plastics.

africabytoto: Guys, I'm taking Janis on a date Saturday and I only came up with an idea for part of it, can you help me????

Gretchen, as always, answers first.

fetchen: You could just take her to dinner or something?? That's always nice

It does sound nice, but not quite right. Janis' ideas were both perfect, Cady wants to do even better for her.

ofmiceandkaren: Gretch took me to a bookstor on our first date!! I picked a storie and she red it to me by the pond! 📷‍📷️‍📷‍📷📷📷📷📷

africabytoto: Aww, that's so cute! Nice name btw

ofmiceandkaren: thanks !! I picked Of Mice and Men but spoylers, ❌📷 it is not even about mice. Gretchie sayd I shuld make it my name anyway 📷📷

That idea is much more Janis, she loves to read, but it still doesn't feel quite right. Maybe they'd do it on another date. Ironically, Regina comes up with the best idea.

bowdownbitches: the fair just opened for the year, you could take her there. Janis loves roller coasters and stuff. or she used to, anyway.

africabytoto: Gina that's perfect!!!! Thanks guys, I'll see you at lunch tomorrow 📷📷

Cady's only seen fairs in movies and has always wanted to go to one, so it's a slightly selfish endeavor, but she does remember hearing Janis rave about them.

——-

When Saturday finally rolls around, Janis is slightly panicked. Cady only told her to wear good walking shoes and dress "decent but not fancy", as if Janis had any idea what that meant. Damian was out of town for the weekend, so she can't ask him to dress her like she normally does.

Then she remembers that she has a baby sister who is actually very good with fashion for her age, so she goes to the top of the stairs to call for her.

"Juju!"

"What?"

"Can you come pick my outfit for my date tonight?"

And suddenly her sister is barreling up the stairs top speed, nearly plowing her down. Apparently she's excited. Janis leads her to her bedroom, opening her closet and dresser drawers for Juliana to dig through.

"Gimme your phone," Julie says once she enters.

"Why?" Janis asks suspiciously, but unlocking and handing it over anyway.

"So I can ask Cady where she's taking you, duh," Julie answers.

Julie taps into her messages, scowling a little at the Cady Girl 📷📷 contact name. Gross.

Jellybean: hey it's julie, janny asked me to pick out her clothes, can u tell me where ur taking her?? i'll delete the messages so she doesn't see

Caddy Cakes: Haha I believe it, but prove it's really you first. Janis is sneaky like that.

Juliana snaps a selfie of herself making a peace sign, showing Janis laying face down on her bed in the background.

Jellybean: Sent a picture: crisis mode Janis feat. me

Caddy Cakes: Aww poor thing D:

Caddy Cakes: I'm taking her to that pottery painting place and then to the fair.

Jellybean: god you two are so sappy. thanks, cady

Caddy Cakes: Not a problem, just make sure to delete these!! Love ya kiddo 📷️

Though she's loathe to admit it, that does get a grin out of her as she deletes the messages and passes the phone back to her sister.

Juliana goes to root through the drawers first, pulling out Janis' favorite swirly tights and a white long sleeved shirt with black roses painted onto it. She lays them on the bed and goes to the closet next, pulling out a plain black skirt, Janis' doc martens, and one of her painted denim jackets.

"Go put this on and then I'll do your hair and stuff," Julie demands, shoving the pile at her sister.

"Yes, ma'am," Janis says, immediately heading into the bathroom and putting everything on. Julie did very well, as she always does.

Once she comes back, her sister sits her on the ground to do her hair, pulling it to the side opposite her shave and braiding it loosely over her shoulder as she tells Janis what makeup to do. It's almost exactly what she normally does, but with black lipstick instead of her usual purple.

It's a rather monochrome look other than the jacket, but Janis decides she's into it as she looks in the mirror. She goes over to ruffle her sister's hair in thanks, barely getting to before the doorbell rings.

Julie rushes past her to get the door before Janis can, throwing the door open and wrapping her arms around Cady's waist. It had taken her a long time to forgive Cady for what she had done to her sister, but once they started dating Cady had tried very hard to form a bond with her. It had worked.

"Oof," Cady grunts as an eleven year old that's roughly the same size as she is suddenly collides with her. "Hey, mini Jay. How are you?"

"Good. Janis is losing it." Julie answers as she lets her go, hiding behind her to avoid Janis' wrath as she yells "Watch it, kid!" from the top of the stairs on her way down.

"Hi, lovey," Cady coos from where she stands in the doorway, instantly melting away Janis' tough facade and earning her a small scowl from Juliana. "You did good, Jules. These are for you, by the way." She says, handing the little one a small bouquet of pink roses.

"You look cute," Janis says once her sister runs away to find a vase with a happy squeal. She really does, Cady's in a grey jumpsuit with a pink leather jacket on top and her white high tops, and her hair is styled in the same way it was when they first met. Janis always loved that little braid crown.

"So do you. Juju really did a good job," Cady purrs, cupping her cheek with her free hand to finally kiss her. "Is your mom home? These are for her," She says, brandishing a larger bunch of tulips.

"I think she's in the kitchen. Mama!" Janis calls, her mother appearing down the hall. Janis just gestures to the flowers.

"Yes? Oh, hi Cady. Ooh, these are beautiful, thank you, hon," She says, taking them and hugging her gently.

"You're welcome, Ms. Sarkisian," Cady answers, returning her embrace. She's also had to work pretty hard to get Janis' moms trust back. She's incredibly thankful Ms. Sarkisian was so forgiving.

"I've told you to call me Ettie, doll. Ms. Sarkisian just makes me feel old," She tuts, Cady knowing there's no way in hell she'll ever be able to refer to her girlfriend's mother by her first name, and especially not a nickname. "Janis, can I expect you home tonight?"

Janis looks at Cady, who shakes her head. "No, I'm gonna spend the night at her house if that's okay," She answers.

"Of course it is. Just be safe and responsible, you know my boring rules," Ms. Sarkisian responds, handing over her always-ready sleepover bag. "I love you, baby girl. Have fun, ladies. Call if you need anything." She pushes them towards the door after Janis hugs her goodbye tightly.

"Your mom is the best," Cady says once they're alone on the porch. "Anyway, theeeeese are for you." She hums as she grabs a bundle of something from the bench next to them.

Janis had been a little confused as to why her mom and sister had gotten flowers and not her, but it makes a bit more sense when she looks to see the bouquet of... paintbrushes?

"You remembered what brand of brushes I use?" Janis asks, almost in awe. The brushes are tied together with a little purple ribbon, the bow a little sloppy. A personal Cady touch.

"Kind of. I remembered what they looked like from watching you paint all the time and then just wandered around some craft stores for, like, two hours until I found ones that matched," her girlfriend answers.

Janis is touched. "I- thank you, baby. I've been needing new ones," she mumbles, touching the soft end of one gently before leaning down to kiss her. She's a little worried, those brushes are kind of expensive.

"You're welcome, darling. Now let's go, we're gonna have fun!" Cady cheers, dragging her towards her little car by the hand and opening the door for her.

Cady is going into her maps app as Janis buckles her seatbelt, tapping a few times to get directions to the first destination. Suddenly, the loud, robotic voice of Siri reverberates through the car, saying, "Starting route to You're Kilning Me! Pottery House," and making them both jump.

Janis starts practically cackling as Cady frantically tries to stop Siri ruining the surprise, yelling "SHUCK!" over the voice. "It was supposed to be a surprise," she pouts once the phone finally goes quiet.

"Oh, baby, it's okay. I still don't know the second part," Janis offers, as Cady genuinely looks distressed. "And I've never been there before, so it's still kind of a surprise."

"Fine," Cady grumbles. "Do you actually want to go here? We can go do something else if you think it's lame."

"No! Baby, this sounds fun," Janis comforts, pulling her into a hug across the center console. "I'm always down to paint, you picked this because you knew I would like it. Let's go decorate some cute little trinkets." She pecks Cady on the nose gently before letting her go.

"Thanks, Jayjay. Now stop being so nice, tonight's about you," Cady demands, taking her hand as they pull out of the driveway.

"As you wish, Peanut," Janis giggles.

——

The place isn't totally Janis' vibe, but she does have to admit it's very cute. The walls are a lime green and covered in various colored handprints, and there's shelves with hundreds of white figurines ready to be decorated.

"So... I thought we could pick and decorate something for each other? If you want," Cady says shyly, squeezing Janis' hand gently.

"Of course I want, Princess. That sounds adorable. Now close your eyes, it should be a surprise," Janis says, letting Cady go to browse the shelves. "No peeking."

Cady covers her eyes with a giggle. "Okay, Jay, I won't."

Janis looks for a minute, nearly picking a little lion piggy bank before remembering Cady already has so many lion things. She finds a butterfly figurine, looking as if it's about to take off, tucked away on one of the lower shelves. Butterfly is her personal favorite nickname for Cady. It's perfect.

She tucks it into her jacket so Cady can't see it before going and pulling her hands off her eyes. "Your turn, Peanut," she says, finding a table that has a divider in so they can paint their things without the other seeing.

Cady comes to find her a few minutes later, resting her jacket over the back of her seat and plopping herself down. Janis hears a little clink as Cady rests whatever ceramic thing she's picked on the table.

An overly cheerful employee comes over to give them their palettes and bottles of glaze, as well as a little chart explaining how many layers to apply for different results. Janis immediately goes for magenta, purple and dark blue, deciding to paint one of the wings of her butterfly as the bi flag. Cady's been wanting more pride stuff.

Cady watches Janis work for a second before remembering she also has something to decorate. She found a coffee mug with a matching coaster in the shape of a paint palette, which is very Janis. She loves coffee.

One by one Cady works her way through the colors of the rainbow, painting little heart-shaped paint splotches on the coaster and colorful drips down the side of the mug. Janis looks a little confused as to what she could be doing with all those colors, but doesn't question it. Cady decides to take a break once she finishes her first layers, watching Janis who is working intently and chattering away at the same time.

"What are you looking at?" Janis asks once she notices her, switching to grab some yellow glaze.

"My beautiful girlfriend," Cady flirts, laughing when Janis flushes with a slightly embarrassed squeak.

"You're not so bad yourself, babe," She manages once she's recovered.

"Thank you, Jay. So what do you think of this place? Be honest," Cady says, grabbing a thin brush and some black glaze to continue decorating the mug.

"It's cute! I'm having fun, we should come back here sometime," Janis answers as she starts sketching some little in-jokes about their relationship on the butterfly's other wing. She's kind of regretting painting it yellow; the colors don't really go together, but yellow is Cady's favorite.

"Good," Cady hums. "But I'm more excited for the next part."

"Where are we going next?" Janis coaxes.

"Nice try. One part of this date is going to be a surprise or so help me," Cady grumbles as she very carefully brushes 'I love you' on the very bottom of the inside of the mug.

"Fine," Janis fake-pouts, moving now to paint the legs and antennae of the butterfly.

Once they finish putting the final layers of glaze on, they carefully bring up their beautiful creations (one at a time to maintain the surprise) to the front desk to be fired. Cady would pick them up once they were done in about a week.

Cady makes Janis wait outside the car as she puts in the GPS information to keep the location a surprise, and starts digging through her bag for something as Janis is finally allowed to slide into her seat.

Eventually she finds what she was looking for, brandishing a bandana to be used as a blindfold.

"Kinky," Janis teases as she begrudgingly takes it and ties it around her eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you loser," Cady huffs, reaching out to tickle Janis to make sure she can't see anything. She apparently can't, because she shrieks with laughter as Cady's hand wiggles over her ribcage before grabbing it to hold, lacing their fingers together.

Cady reaches to turn the radio on to keep Janis entertained, giving her hand a squeeze before unfortunately letting go to drive safely.

——

Cady hops out first once she parks, going around to Janis' side and helping her out before spinning her around and untying the blindfold.

Janis blinks a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the light before letting out an excited gasp at what she sees. They have about half an hour before the sun starts to go down, and they're surrounded by neon lights, loud noises, and delicious smells. It's beautiful.

"The fair?!"

"Yeah! Um, I couldn't come up with anything other than the pottery place and Regina said you liked roller coasters." Cady says, almost nervously.

"I do! This is tits, let's go in, come on!" Janis pecks her cheeks a few times excitedly before grabbing her hand and hurrying towards the gates. Cady realizes distantly that she left her jacket in the car. Oh well. It's May now, and it's a warm evening. She'll probably be fine.

Cady buys their entry wristbands, getting the kind that allow them to go on as many rides as they want. She fumbles with hers for a minute before Janis tenderly takes her hand, fastening the paper bracelet around her wrist and pressing a kiss to her palm.

"Thanks, love. Where do you want to go first?" Cady asks, lacing their fingers together and swinging their arms back and forth.

"Can we ride that?" Janis asks, pointing to the single largest coaster present. Cady's never been on a roller coaster before, but how bad could it be?

"Sure," Cady hums, looking up at the massive metal structure. "Let's go."

Janis makes Cady stand by the height measurement sign as a joke, taking a picture as Cady pouts. "I'm not that small," She huffs.

"Baby, you're barely a foot over the height requirement. You're always gonna be my little Peanut," Janis hums, squishing her in a tight hug as they stand in line.

"I like being Peanut, I guess," Cady sighs jokingly. She actually kind of likes being small, it has its uses. Like for cuddles.

Janis chooses the very front seats, wiggling excitedly as they get harnessed in.

Once they reach the top of the first hill, Cady decides she does not like roller coasters as much as she thought she would. This thought continues as they hurtle around the track, going much faster than Cady appreciates. She thinks they go upside down at one point, but by that time her eyes are so tightly shut that she's not totally sure.

"That was tits!" Janis cheers as they finally come to a blessed stop, helping Cady out of the cart.

"Uhhuh," Cady mumbles, trying to stop her hands shaking. Janis turns to look at her once they're a ways away, surprised to find her much more pale than normal and her clear blue eyes wide and frightened.

"Oh, baby," She hums, pulling Cady into a tight hug. "You didn't like it?" Cady shakes her head frantically and buries her face into Janis' chest. "Shh, it's okay. We won't go on any more. You pick what we do next."

"No, this is your date. You get to pick everything," Cady says, calming in Janis' tight embrace.

"I pick we do something you want. You look miserable," Janis says, pulling her back gently to kiss a few freckles.

"Thanks," Cady says sarcastically. "Can we go check out the game thingies?"

"Sure, angel. I bet I'll win you a stuffed animal first," Janis says, taking her hand and leading them towards the stalls.

Cady winds up winning first, her muscle memory from Africa helping her win the dart toss. She picks a sloth with velcro paws, taking it and wrapping the arms around Janis in a little hug. Janis wins the water shooting one, picking a big alpaca shaped thing with yellow fur. Cady takes it excitedly, squeezing it tightly. It's very squishy and soft.

Cady's recovered enough by that point to go on a few tamer rides, so Janis leads them over to something called the Scrambler. It looks sort of like some kind of sea monster, with multicolored carts that spin around and are also orbiting a central structure. She holds Janis' hand as well as the bar holding them in, still nervous from her encounter with the coaster.

But once they get going, Cady loves it. Feeling the wind hitting her face reminds her of being on the Jeeps in Africa, and the motion makes her stomach flip in a way she enjoys this time. Janis is just watching her as they go around, smiling widely as Cady laughs freely the whole time. Gradually, they come to a stop, Cady cheering "Again! Again!" once they finally come to a complete standstill. Janis obliges, taking her hand to get them back in the short line. The Scrambler is one of her favorites, too.

Janis asks if she'd like to try going on some massive slides, Cady looking up at them curiously. They're about as high up as the roller coasters, but people seem to be moving much more slowly down them, so she agrees to try them at least once. They get in line, Janis grabbing a rug for them to go on together. They start climbing the many, many stairs to the top, both of them puffing slightly by the time they're led over to their slide.

Janis lays their mat down, holding it down for Cady to get on before following after her. She pulls Cady closer to her, pressing her chest against her back and holding her around the waist. Cady holds onto the handles of the mat and the worker gives them a gentle push to get them finally going. Cady giggles the whole way down, which was Janis' goal. They're going so quickly they nearly crash into the wall at the bottom, Cady barely managing to stick her feet out at the last second. The force knocks Janis down flat on her back, Cady following and tipping her head upside down to grin widely at her.

"That was fun!" Cady cheers, standing and holding her hand out to help Janis up.

"Do you want to go again?" Janis asks, knowing the look in her eyes well by this point. Cady nods shyly, Janis just taking her hand and leading them back to the end of the line. She's noticed Cady only seems to have an issue with height and speed at the same time, one or the other is okay.

Once they've gone on everything at least once, they decide to finally get some dinner. As they walk over to the food stalls, Cady tucks her alpaca under one arm and holds out the other to Janis. "Hey, can you hold this for me?"

Janis turns from a few paces ahead, thinking she's talking about the stuffed animal until she looks down. "Your hand?"

"Yeah," Cady nods seriously. Janis takes it with a chuckle.

"You're such a dork, I love you."

"I love you too, but I'm very hungry, let's go," Cady begs, tugging on Janis' hand.

"Okay, okay, slow down," Janis laughs.

Cady really wants to try a funnel cake, so she buys one for them to share while Janis gets a bucket of macaroni and cheese and some fried Oreos.

They feed each other little bites of the mac and cheese, stealing a few kisses every now and again in between. Once that's done, Cady pulls their plate of various fried goodness over and just stares at it. Janis tears off a bit of the funnel cake for her to try, getting her fingers sticky with the powdered sugar.

Cady tries it and her eyes go even wider than they did on the roller coaster. That's delicious. Janis laughs at her reaction, but supposed she should've known. Cady loves sweets.

"That's so good!" Cady squeals, almost shaking as the sugar starts to hit. She immediately tears off another bigger piece.

"It's fried dough and sugar, of course it's good," Janis teases, tearing off a chunk for herself. "Now try one of these."

She hands Cady one of the fried Oreos, Cady taking it and nibbling at it almost nervously. It is also delicious, but almost too sweet for her tastes. She likes the cake better. Janis takes the other one, immediately shoving the whole thing in her mouth.

"Oh, Jesus, I shouldn't have done that," She says once she's swallowed it. "No regrets."

Cady gathers up all the trash once they finish, throwing it in a garbage can nearby before turning to her girlfriend. "You have sugar on your lip, come here."

Janis thinks she's just going to wipe it away, letting out a startled squeak when Cady suddenly pulls her behind a stall, pushing her up against it and kissing her hungrily. Usually Janis is the one initiating this kind of thing, but she's certainly not complaining at Cady taking charge.

They're both panting by the time they break apart, looking more than a little disheveled. Janis had noticed Cady's soft skin was rather cold to the touch, and when they pull back she can see her shivering. "Baby, where's your jacket?" She asks, concerned they lost it somewhere.

"I left it in the car," Cady mutters, leaning into her for warmth. "But if I go get it I won't be able to get back in. I'm fine."

She's clearly not, her teeth are almost chattering. Cady's still not totally used to how cold it can get in Illinois. It's almost totally dark now, and very chilly.

Janis pulls off her jean jacket and wraps it around Cady. She's swimming in it, the oversized fabric practically swallowing her tiny girlfriend. Cady's hands don't even come out the sleeves.

Janis notices Cady's jacket paws moving, she's flapping her hands. That's a stim she only does when she's either very upset or very excited, and judging by the wide, delighted grin splitting her face, it's the latter.

"I love you," Cady suddenly hums, throwing her arms around Janis tightly.

"I love you too, baby. So much," Janis says, squeezing her back and kissing her hair softly. "They're gonna close soon, is there one more thing you want to do before we go?"

"The ferris wheel? I've never been on one," Cady hums, resting her chin on Janis' chest and looking up at her.

Janis really does not like ferris wheels, but she can't resist those big blue eyes blinking up at her. She supposes she can make an exception.

"Fine, but if we get stuck up there you have to cuddle me the whole time, I'm scared of heights," She says, taking her hand and leading them towards the large circle illuminated by colorful lights. It is rather pretty, from the ground anyway.

They get in line just before the cutoff for the night, Cady staring up at the massive structure with wide, curious eyes. Janis is strangely comforted seeing that almost childlike wonder on her face. Cady deserves to experience it at least once, even if she does have to spend it holding Janis the whole time so she doesn't panic.

Janis is further comforted when their cart is purple, which is her favorite color. Unfortunately, any semblance of safe feelings leave the second they start moving, Janis clinging to Cady's arm.

"How did you enjoy that roller coaster and the slides if you're so scared of heights, Jellybean?" Cady asks, holding onto her girlfriend tightly.

"Because the height doesn't last on stuff like that, you're just up there to get going and then it's done," Janis huffs. Cady gets distracted once they hit the very top, gasping excitedly at the view and reaching for her phone to take a picture.

She snaps a few before turning it around to selfie mode, leaning in to cup Janis' cheek with her other hand and kiss her gently as she takes another few photos like that. "Thanks for letting me come up here, Jay. We only have to go around one more time before we can get off."

"It's okay, baby. It's actually really pretty up here. As long as you don't look down," Janis hums, leaning in for one more peck. She breathes a sigh of relief as they approach the ground and gives another sharp exhale as they go up again.

Sure enough, once they reach the tip-top, the ride screeches to a halt, and a voice calls up from the bottom to tell them they're stuck up there indefinitely.

"Ah, fuck," Janis groans. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen.

"Oh no," Cady says, concerned for Janis. "Um... we could play a game? To pass the time?"

That doesn't sound terrible, but they don't have anything to play a game with up here.

"Like what?" Janis asks, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. Focus on Cady.

"Um... we could go back and forth and say something about ourselves that the other one doesn't know yet?" Cady hums anxiously, holding Janis tightly.

That doesn't exactly sound like a game, but it would work well enough to keep Janis' mind off the fact that she's dangling thirty-odd feet in the air in a heavy cart.

"You go first," Janis says, tucking her face into Cady's neck.

"Okay," Cady chuckles, kissing her head and running her fingers through Janis' hair gently. "Um... Od uoy wonk I nac klat sdrawkcab?"

"What the fuck?" Janis says, pulling back to look at Cady's smug grin.

"I can talk backwards. Any word," Cady says.

"Wh- How do you do that?" Janis asks in awe.

"I dunno. When I was learning how to read I taught myself to do it backwards too. Don't ask, I was an odd kid. I just picture the word in my head and then flip it around," Cady answers.

"Prove it," Janis challenges. "Say... um... what's my name backwards?"

"Sinaj," Cady says immediately.

"I love you."

"I evol uoy."

"Peanut butter."

"Tunaep rettub."

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard, that's so cool," Janis squeals.

"Thanks," Cady giggles. "Your turn."

"Oh boy, um... did you know about these?" Janis asks, pulling her two half-heart necklaces from where they're tucked inside her shirt.

"I've seen them but I've never read what they say," Cady says, taking them gingerly to read the charms. One says 'big sis' and the other has been painted to say half of what she can only assume is 'best fucking bitches'. "Who has the other pieces? Julie?"

"No, Damian," Janis answers, which makes Cady burst out laughing.

"That's so cute," She says breathlessly once she's calmed down. "My turn then, um. Do you know how I got my name? Or the spelling of it, anyway.

Janis shakes her head. She loves her Cady with a C and a D and a Y, but it is a little strange.

"This is just what my mom told me so it could be a joke, she likes to mess with me a lot. But she got to name my brother so she let my dad name me, and he was in a band when she was pregnant with me. He wanted to give me a sort of musical name like Harmony or something, so he picked Cadence and my mom said yes as long as it could be Cady on my birth certificate. She thought he'd regret it eventually and wanted me to have a more 'normal' nickname," She says.

Janis tries to imagine Mr. Heron, the dorkiest, kindest, shyest man she knows in a band. Does not compute. "That... kind of makes sense, actually, other than your dad being in a band. Did they ever call you Cadence?"

"Actually, yeah, when I was really little my dad always called me that. And when I got in trouble back in Kenya that's what they called me," Cady says, looking as if the secret to the universe has been revealed to her. The story must be true, then.

"That's wild as hell, Chip Heron in a band," Janis says, also looking a little shell-shocked. They'd have to ask him about it later. "My turn. Did you know Gretchen comes to the gym with me sometimes?"

"No, really? That's so sweet," Cady coos.

"Yeah, she asked me a while ago if she could come with me every once in a while to help her anxiety and stuff. She does more cardio and things like that than I do, but we spot each other when we need to and I started going to a yoga thing she does. It's kind of nice to have a workout buddy."

"Aww," Cady says. "I'm glad you guys are becoming friends again."

"Honestly, I am too. Gretchen really isn't so bad. She gushes about Karen all the time too, so I like getting to hear all the juicy stuff about them," Janis chuckles. "Your turn, Peanut."

"I can't think of anything," Cady whines after thinking for a second. "You think of something you want to know about me."

"Okay, I can do that," Janis hums pensively. "Were you born in Kenya?" She asks after a while. Cady's never mentioned anything before her life in Africa.

"No, we didn't move there until I was three, I was born in Oregon. We've always followed my parents' work," Cady answers. "My parents always said it was very exciting having a toddler who wouldn't talk to anyone running around the tents."

"You must've been so cute," Janis says, wondering if she can con Cady into showing her some baby photos.

"I was," Cady answers as Janis makes the mistake of peeking over the edge, snapping back over with wide, terrified eyes. "Oh, darling, why would you look down? Come here."

Janis thinks she's about to pull her into another hug, surprised when Cady pulls her mouth to hers and kisses her softly. Desperate to forget that they're stuck very high in the air, Janis kisses her back eagerly, her girlfriend responding in kind. Janis has always wanted to make out with someone on a ferris wheel.

One of Cady's hands cradles Janis' jaw, thumb stroking comfortingly over her cheek, and her other arm is wrapped securely around Janis' waist to hold her close and safe. Janis flicks her tongue at the seam of Cady's lips, tangling a hand in her auburn curls as she does. Cady lets her in, nipping softly at her bottom lip to tease. Janis would very much like to continue this when they're on the ground.

She's so lost in her girlfriend she almost managed to forget they were still stuck, until there's a deafening clank and a terrifying sort of metallic grinding sound. She pulls back with a startled squeak as they start moving, lipstick noticeably smeared as she buries her face in her girlfriends shoulder. At least they're almost out.

There's a sort of off-brand Snoopy down by the exit, Janis sinking into a hug with him and just repeating, "Snoopy it was so bad. We were stuck up there, Snoopy." For a while until Cady drags her away. Snoopy waves at them almost sadly as he watches them go.

——-

Once they're in the car on the way back to Cady's house, Janis realizes that Cady told her one more fact than Janis told her. She knows Cady likes things to be even, so she decides to level it out.

"Hey, we stopped the game before we told the same number, do you want to hear one more from me?"

"I always want to know more about you, Jayjay," Cady answers, focusing on the road.

"Okay, have you seen this?" Janis asks once they're at a stoplight, shuffling her left sleeve down to reveal her small semicolon tattoo on her wrist.

"No," Cady says, tracing the little picture tenderly with her finger. "What does it mean?"

Janis rolls her sleeve down further to reveal the faded scars lining her arm, wincing a little at Cady's sad gasp. Janis thought she at least knew about those, but she doesn't wear short sleeves very often and the scars are very faded.

"I started self-harming after everything happened with Regina in middle school. Damian didn't tell you, but I was actually pulled out for the rest of that year because I was recovering in the hospital from a suicide attempt. I tried to overdose on one of my mom's prescriptions," Janis explains.

"Oh god, Janis," Cady says sadly, gently running her finger over her arm before she has to start driving again.

"I got my stomach pumped in the hospital and my wrists stitched up, so my mom found out I had been cutting and I had to go to an inpatient therapy place. That's how I started art therapy, actually. But once I got out my mom let me pick something cool to do to celebrate, and for some reason she let me get a tattoo even though I was fourteen. She has one that matches."

"That's so sweet," Cady says, heart still hurting for her girlfriend. She came so close to losing Janis before she ever even found her. "Why a semicolon, though?"

"Because I was an English nerd," Janis answers with a sardonic chuckle. "Semicolons and periods are usually interchangeable, an author uses one when they could have ended a sentence but chose not to. I decided I was the author of me, and I wasn't ready to end my sentence yet. It helps to look at it when I'm having a rough time."

"That's beautiful, Janis. Do you, um, still...?" Cady asks quietly.

"No, no," Janis rushes out. "Damian and my sister both made me promise to stop. I've come close a couple times, but I've been clean since the end of sophomore year. I haven't even thought about it in almost a year."

"Good," Cady breathes with relief. "I'm really glad you're still here, Jay. I love you so much."

"I'm glad I'm here too. I think a lot about what I would've missed if... if it had worked, and I'm always so glad it didn't. I love you too, Caddy," Janis says, trying not to cry. Too many emotions for one night.

They spend the rest of the drive home in comfortable silence, Janis playing with Cady's fingers contently once Cady gives her her hand as they get into slower streets of the neighborhood.

Cady goes to greet her parents and hug them goodnight once they enter, Janis heading up to Cady's room to get changed into her pjs. She's glad their parents all trust them enough to let them continue to sleep in the same bed at sleepovers, probably because they only get up to anything raunchy when they're sure nobody's around. She would miss the snuggles if they were separated.

Cady changes into her Lion King pajama set, putting Janis' jacket back on over top and crawling into bed after her with her new alpaca. She switches on the nightlight Janis had gotten her for Christmas, looking up at the colorful swirly patterns it paints on the ceiling.

"You gonna sleep in my jacket?" Janis asks, resting her head on Cady's chest gently.

"Mmhmm! It's comfy. Soft. And it smells like you," Cady hums, pulling her closer.

"What do I smell like?" Janis asks, a little worried.

"Vanilla and paint, but your hair smells like apples," Cady answers drowsily, stroking her fingers through Janis' hair. "Mostly you just smell like home. I know I'm safe whenever I can smell you."

Well that's just about the sweetest thing Janis has ever heard. "You're so precious, you know that?" She asks, tilting her head up to kiss at the underside of Cady's jaw.

"So you tell me," Cady jokes weakly, followed by a yawn. "It's your turn to be little spoon, I'm sleepy."

Janis is frankly amazed that Cady made it this late, it's nearly midnight. She leans up to kiss her goodnight before she turns to face the wall, cuddling with her own new sloth stuffie and feeling her small girlfriend press up against her, squishing her cheek against her back and wrapping an arm tightly around her waist to pull her closer.

"G'night, Jay. I love you," Cady yawns.

"Goodnight, Caddy. I love you too," Janis answers, grinning to herself.

A perfect date with my perfect girl, she thinks as they slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of each other.

thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought.

also, disastrously, I am starting to run out of ideas, so please leave any ideas you want to see me write either here, on my wattled, or on my ao3. all are just maybeimamuppet.

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady heron #janis sarkisian #gretchen wieners #regina george #karen smith #mean girls #mean girls broadway #mean girls musical

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orsuliya · 4 years ago

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Love your blog!! Do you have any headcanons about XiaoQi's backstory?

Oh, thank you! And oh, do I. By the way, we are going by drama!canon, since I like this version of Xiao Qi’s backstory better.

Most peasants won’t travel much during their whole lifetime; some never leave the place of their birth. Xiao Qi’s father was an exception. Nobody knew from whence he came, this scarred and limping, yet strangely cheerful soldier. One day he simply came into the village, announced that he was here to work, should anybody have a task needing some strength and smarts, sat down under the awning and that was that.

Much later, over a third or fourth cup of local spirits, it came out that his maternal grandmother had been born in this area, but even to the eldest villagers her name meant nothing much. Who remembers spilled water after half a century? “Had she been a beauty, that mythical grandmother, then perhaps,” tried the headman, yet received nothing but a quiet laugh. “To my grandfather, she surely was,” said the soldier and that was that.

Even so, once the soldier recommended himself as a tried, conscientious worker, many a family wanted to claim him. He only laughed and went around on his business, remarkably light on his feet despite an old injury, which tended to flare up on cold days. The first winter he spent sleeping with the animals, which bothered him none. The second one he weathered in a faraway homestead, taken in by an elderly couple who felt they could use a strong man around the yard. Every single winter after that he chose to spend in that one homestead and that was that.

Xiao Qi’s mother was the last child born to an elderly couple, long after they lost all hope. There were other children before, but what happened to them, I cannot tell you. A failure to thrive, some villagers said, while other kept turning around from the childless woman, full of fear and superstition.

That last child was no beauty worthy of gracing palace halls, but her mother cared not. “Better to live with a clean face and clean hearth than to wear paint alongside ten concubines”, she used to say every time her daughter got carried away with her girlish dreams. And so the last child went around with a clean face and diligently tended to her hearth, and in due time gave generously of both to a soldier from faraway lands.

Mind you, that soldier would have claimed to prefer her over any concubine from the governor’s mansion, speaking no lie, had she but asked. She never did. Not one to speak much, that last child, although when she spoke, even her wizened father stopped to listen. The soldier loved her all the more for her silence and laughed enough for both of them; he laughed and then he cried, when she could not let out a tear over her parents’ grave.

Barely had the villagers begun to wonder if the soldier’s wife carried in her womb her mother’s curse, when she grew heavy with child and in the very middle of summer gave birth to a boy; three summers later the cradle was full again.

Wealthy or poor, wizened or in prime of life, the plague cares little for such distinctions. Much less the dreadful plague they called beautiful flowers as not to offend the passing goddess and thus avoid incurring her wrath. Some said that this merciless goddess liked the beauty of small children and touched them first of all. Perhaps they spoke the truth after all, for the soldier’s small daughter, innocent and beautiful like the first flower of spring, fell ill before anyone else. Who brought the disease, nobody could say. Maybe the passing trader who came into the house, maybe the autumn winds, that mattered little as the flowers of disease took root on the child’s soft skin.

The soldier, though hardened in battles and wise above his years, stilled and wailed, while his quiet wife marched into the yard, where her little son, but five years of age, kept agitating the geese. She bade him to strip and when she saw him to be clean – as much as any rambunctious child can be – she took him up like a kitten and carried him into the shed. “Stay here, no matter what you hear or see,” said the ever-quiet mother with unusual fire. “I will bring you water and food every day, and knock on the door. When I do, close your eyes and count all your fingers and toes. Then and only then you can open the door. You are a big boy now, so give me your word that you will not leave until I tell you so.”

The boy agreed, swallowing up his confusion and fear, even as his mother closed the door without a single look back. His mother kept her word for twelve whole days; he kept his for fifteen and would have for fifteen more, had the homestead not caught on fire on that fifteenth night. The shed was far enough to stay safe with this particular summer not excessively dry; the flames, however, were seen so far and wide that the nearest neighbour arrived to help before the inferno had time to die out.

The boy, for all that he shared blood with half the families around, had no relative close enough to take him for his own. He was no man, whose strength could be of use, you see, and there were many whispers of a curse running in his line. The homestead was gone and the land went untilled, held by the headman until the boy could claim it for his own; in the meantime he went around from house to house, giving small services in return for rice in his bowl and roof over his head. The headman tried to give the boy a corner of his own, but his wife liked the boy not, too unnerved by his quiet eyes.

And so he went around, welcomed by all for his calm disposition and clever hands, yet loved by none. A motherly hand sometimes took care to repair his torn clothes, a strong palm directed his unlearned one in the fields, yet he found no welcome in lovingly open arms and no careful fingers were eager to play with his tangled hair.

With every summer the boy learned new skills: the first summer he learned to talk again, the second he could go into a shed alone, the third he went out to mind the sheep, the fourth he learned to laugh, bringing his father’s spirit back to life…

…and the fifth summer the village drowned in blood.

Okay, I have no idea what happened later. I cannot quite decide if Xiao Qi spent the intervening years wandering from place to place or not. Maybe he came upon a military camp and just stayed, watching, learning and being so useful that nobody even thought of chasing him away. He probably enlisted early and the very same day got hit – literally and metaphorically – with the full force of Hu Guanglie and his humongous personality. Perhaps an exasperated sergeant Dou was the one to pull the two gangly teenagers apart. Who knows. Certainly not me.

Anyway, I do know one thing. After many, many years Xiao Qi returned to the place of his birth. He found only pastures where his own home had once stood and the village filled with unfamiliar faces speaking a dialect alien to his ears. A few people later recalled a quiet soldier and his lovely wife, who rode around the village on horses of excellent blood, said not a thing to anybody and then disappeared right into the night. Coincidentally, a beggar child who got trounced around a day or two before disappeared that very night. Nobody cared all that much.

Anyway, that’s it for now. I hope you are satisfied, dear Nonnie! I might have sat on your objectively lovely ask a tad too long, but this delay has already been avenged. I now know far too much about childhood amnesia, smallpox in ancient China and the wisdom of not shuffling your asks to the bottom of the stack.

#ask and answer #that was the very last ask in my inbox #what a strange feeling #also I have no idea what happened here #no names or anything because I am awful at names #wait does this mean I should finally make that princess carry list #oooookay #the rebel princess #monarch industry #Awu and XQ headcanon time #more like XQ parents headcanon time technically

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isolctions · 4 years ago

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...........so let’s finally talk abt what the actual fucking fuck is wrong with ai’rina rue castillo, huh gang? :-)

(everyone go thank @armsdealing & @durcgs beating the anxiety out of me in order to post this info-dump.)

...before we get into things, now’s the part where i establish a warning for triggers to be discussed in this lengthy headcanon post. there’s gonna be some talks of mental illness, slight alcohol abuse, & breaking down topics of familial abuse, mental abuse, religious abuse, emotional manipulation, and elements of non-con. be warned.

a’ight, so look. i’ve hinted in between threads & development that rue had a not-so-fantastic upbringing that impacted how she perceives herself, how she interacts with others, (in terms of her career, at least) and how she views personal relationships, but i didn’t realize how........severely her upbringing messed with her mental health until i started working through how i wanted to plot out rue’s behavior for her next album release. at first, i had the idea that she decided to take more time for herself & sort of distance herself from the public / media circus plaguing her life so that she can create much more authentic music. then i actually listened to the EP that i’m basing her album off of and thought “...oh.” THEN, i looked over old meme responses & old threads / mentions of her family and how she grew up and thought, not for the last time since piecing everything together: “....oh. oh fucking boy.”

so, that horrible realization dawning on me, let’s talk about rue’s childhood.

i wrote a thing like, two years ago almost (that upon looking for last night, i realized i didn’t actually share it w/ anyone but alex in our discord server & only mentioned a portion of it in rue’s moodboard that i made) that talked vaguely about how rue felt growing up. and it’s worth noting that...she’s the middle of ten fucking siblings. and that’s just the brothers & sisters she knew of that stayed with their mother. and on top of that, not all of those siblings are the product of rue’s father, or even rue’s mother for that matter. and it’s also worth noting that rue not only grew up in poverty, but she grew up never having any actual space that had solely been her own, or even an article of clothing that had belonged entirely to her. so naturally, as a young child, rue sort of became torn between starved for attention & wanting someone to pay attention to her (whether that be her older siblings including her in something, whatever teacher they had for the next six months to call on her for something, for her mother to miraculously show up with her unknown father in tow one day, & for literally anyone to be her friend, pls god Notice her!!!) and for people to simply leave her the hell alone. obviously, this carried into adulthood.

and branching off from the whole “lack of space” point i made, rue wound up growing up to become increasingly more private as time went on because she literally cannot remember a single moment where she wasn’t squished between a bunch of people. driving around in their minivan? rue’s packed in the middle of the second row. nowhere to sleep while on the road? rue’s smacked between gigantic older brothers & clingy little siblings. need to use to bathroom? lmao, she better off going outside!!! gotta change clothes? yeah, good luck with that. it was to the point where, when rue got her first period, she was humiliated by it — not because ‘omg, am i a woman now?? wtf is this???’, but because she ruined the one good sheet that she slept on with her sisters & they were super pissed at her and her mother withheld pay from her for weeks. >:/

already, rue grew up never having shit to herself until the record deal. but she also dealt with literally...so much abuse from her mother. rue thought this was the norm growing up, because all of her siblings faced their mother’s wrath at some point & all of them eventually learned to just deal with the shit and do what she says if they wanted to avoid it. they all compartmentalized and repressed to varying degrees. there’s a lot in which rue has repressed so deeply, she doesn’t even remember if it seriously happened or if she was just making it up bc it was so fucking bizarre for a parent to act that way towards their child, lol?? (and this behavior of “i’m just going to do what you say bc i don’t want to deal with whatever bullshit you’re up to if i say no” also carried into business / personal relationships, which is...very Yikes it’s amazing she didn’t get scammed or worse!)

so sure, people have complimented her for her exceptional manners & her cleanliness & how quiet / polite she is & how amazing her posture is, bc seriously, this girl will never experience back problems in her life bc her posture is so on par. but where rue typically smiles / responds bashfully, she can’t exactly just up and say: “oh, yeah, my mom used to slap the shit out of me ‘til i bruised if i spoke out of turn or talked back, and if i reached for anything in the store or put my elbows on the table she’d slap a ruler against my palms ‘til i got welts, and she’d make me read verses all night without sleep if i did anything wrong and make me straighten up and kneel on rice if i slouched or took a nap in church and humiliated me in public if i so much as looked at someone of the opposite sex on the street n oh, did i mention i also cleaned houses for rich millionaire snobs from ages twelve to sixteen and if they said or did literally anything to me i wasn’t allowed to defend myself?? ya i’m real proper :)”

(and normal ppl will go: “...................what the FUCK is WRONG with you????”)

but oh man, babe, we’re not done yet!!! rue, being the product of both a highly religious and a highly exploitative household...had difficulty when she started reaching puberty & noticing her classmates. plural, because it wasn’t just boys that she began to secretly have crushes on / fantasize abt, sexually or domestically. she also realized, oh shit, that she started looking at girls differently too. and that literally put the fear of god into her heart, bc if her mother ever found out that she was having non-platonic feelings for the girls in her classrooms, she wasn’t going to be pissed. her mom might have actually tried to kill her. or have her exorcised or something. she knew the shit would be severe, and she wanted no fucking parts of her mother or her siblings inserting the church into her personal life, thank u very much! so rue started suppressing her romantic feelings for people to the point where if adult rue receives intimacy, she’s like “...is this allowed? is this not illegal??????” while simultaneously being like “i will be a slut. just this once. as a Treat to teenage me. :>” regardless, rue learned to molotov cocktail literally any emotion or thought she had, bc she was paranoid that it would give her mother a vision.

now, onto the perils of exploitation...she should’ve been used to it really, what with her mother forcing herself & siblings to lure customers into their shop with promises of visions and palm readings and the wonders of the cards and overexerting their abilities. same with housekeeping, like being of service to people was normal! but when seventeen year old rue decided to sign a record deal and break from home, she wasn’t thinking critically about what the fuck all of this would entail. and as described in this headcanon post abt her discography, her early music was the product of allowing people much older & powerful than you to influence your work & manipulate your values. so rue was very much parading around as someone she wasn’t, someone much more confident and badass and self-assured than she really was, and she was so impressionable back then that it literally makes her sick to think back on it now. she calls it her puppy phase and phrases the eagerness to please execs as ‘tongue wagging’. homegirl hardly even knew her name anymore, bc all she was and all she would ever be was rue, the star, the vocal temptress. not ai’rina, the help or ai’rina, the seer, ai’rina, the weak little nobody. but later on, the subtle manipulation was less about decision making & how they wanted her to sound, and more about how they wanted to present the latest trophy star — because after all, she was pretty. people liked her. she sung really well. suitors weren’t too far off into the distant future. so why not kill two birds with one stone by having a high ranking label artist keep tabloids talking by being seen in public with a few heart throbs? surely, there’s no harm in manipulating an eighteen/nineteen year old’s love life! under the guise of improving her social skills & relations with fellow artists and the media and the like, rue gave into the pressures and let herself be taken out on dates & seen at awards shows with a few guys. no big deal. it was only for a night or so, she could handle the attention. then, one night appearances turned into week long appearances. pretending to date for only a month! completely innocent, positive exposure. :)

(adult rue, looking back @ younger rue: you stupid fucking BITCH-)

yeah, so once her label/management realized that she was turning into a hot commodity, they lost no sleep at allowing their nineteen year old artist to be seen ‘dating’ 20-24+ year old men occasionally. and whatever happened after their public appearances were none of their business. plus, she was good at pretending and being arm candy — so rue experienced her first kiss, her first dates, and her first times with people who she’s almost certain hardly remember their time with her, and really only got involved with her for a mutual career boost. very few of them does she actually remember in a positive light, and the ones that were positive, still depress her bc lmao all of it was fake, even if they were really nice & made it less like a chore and more like they actually wanted to be with her!! even fewer of them were actual relationships. meaning, said person asked her out of their own volition, not bc their managers thought it’d be a decent match on camera. it was evil, really, what her old label made of her. (like, she makes funny jokes that her first time having sex was awkward bc she had a vision halfway through that bummed her out but in reality it was just...really more of a transaction that made her feel icky n progressively worse abt herself until it happened more often and now she just doesn’t care anymore. sex is just sex, u know?? everything’s fake. why you gotta make it personal.) this whole fiasco took over the larger part of rue’s career from like, age nineteen to age twenty-two or so, and she suffered dramatically from this because what is even a genuine, authentic relationship at this point? what do u mean you want to get to know me? did ur manager tell you to ask so many damn questions & try to get to know me? obviously you want something from me bc that’s why everyone gets into a relationship or has sex with me, stop confessing feelings for me u fucking loser. >:/

like...rue doesn’t even have friends. outside of her relationship with marcelo / @armsdealing (which, AGAIN, i think was initially arranged to promote her song be honest, how fucking IRONIC), rue does not have any personal relationships with anyone. i mean, she likes her latest management team since switching labels...her hair stylist is rly cool & her make up artist is fun to vacation with...she met a few other celebrities at events that she occasionally texts & has dinner with...yeah, she’s basically a pretty hermit. her family is more or less out of the question — the few brothers & sisters she does still have a positive relationship with (like, four of them lol), they don’t see each other in person often / mainly communicate via groupchat and facetime calls when all of them have time. she tried visiting with her mother over the years, but the verbal & emotional abuse/curses placed on her/accusations of being an imp of satan for singing to the public/memories of being forced to perform psychic shows & clean for chump change keeps her from trying to mend that relationship. like, being gaslit by ur mother isn’t really the vibe, u know? and bottom line, rue simply is a very shy and socially stunted individual who does not know how to communicate like a normal human being anymore. hell, her life revolves around pretending for strangers at this point!

now, onto how...all of That ties into her behavior / state of mind during this next album. so, after riding the wave of success from her third album & the circus that came with that. rue sort of had a fucking existential crisis. came out of absolutely nowhere. (not nowhere — one of her brothers called her out of the blue and called her ai’rina and she literally went “who the fuck is that?”) told her label that she was taking some time in between albums bc she was creatively zapped or whatever bullshit excuse she came up with that somehow worked bc this new label was a little more understanding than the last. vacationed for a little, did some hot girl shit, bought a house, tried to see her mother again for whatever reason then got the shit slapped out of her and finally screamed at her to never touch her again unless she wanted to Throw Hands. cried and got drunk abt it. that took six months. bullshat to her label again, dropped like two songs to smooth things over, decided to focus on magic for a little to ground her, started partying with label mates then going home shitfaced & hungover every other morning. that took eight months. dropped one last song, promptly deleted her twitter, tried to write songs again, got a call from her mother and panicked and got drunk. that took a year. vacationed some more, got even drunker, was bed ridden for like three months because holy shit i’m having so many visions and if i see One More Thing my brain is going to explode, couldn’t separate the present from the future for weeks after that, told absolutely no one about that, cried every day & had an identity crisis, dyed her hair to appease the identity crisis goblins. that took a year and a half.

now, she just chilling. dyed her hair again. scaring her siblings halfway to death bc she keeps going on benders & sending cryptic texts abt the visions she’s getting but they’re so incomprehensible that they’re seriously considering moving in to get her fucking shit together. had a vision that she was married with kids and had a two week identity crisis appeased only by moving houses. (she was in a neighborhood with families...too much Drama and visions. turned into a really cool song tho.) started calling herself by her birth name of ai’rina in private. reactivated twitter to send cryptic tweets that her album is coming. working on said album. trying to drink less but kinda failing bc how is one simply supposed to make a highly personal dual album without alcohol??? prbly somewhere crying in marcelo’s lap or smthn. just vibes.

like...i feel like, in my head, the Theme of her project is wrapped up in identity. her relationship with fame and whatnot. trying to coax her childhood self out of its’ shell so that she can function like a normal goddamn person for once and re-establish her values. like, if someone went to any of rue’s residences right now, it’s just songbooks everywhere and wine glasses and her crystals and shit, bc she still has people’s futures to read for money. (yes, she never really got out of that portion of her childhood, but hey it pays.) it was all very confusing to experience at once while in bed at four in the morning & even though i tried organizing and debated on this, it’s still a Lot. which is why i am once again asking for plots that would allow her to dissect all these Things

so yeah. album four otw, with a side of confronting our childhood & facing our traumas!

#rue — facts #imagine me making a cohesive hc post #it wont happen but like imagine how sexy that would be #anyway this is long and me thinks stream of conscious hc posting is both therapeutic and Exhausting #but i had a lot of thots abt her that needed to be shared to...yeah #abuse tw #alcoholism tw #long post tw #i feel like that its always sunny meme??? yall know which one #but anyways this is somehow overwhelming n embarrassing that i typed so much so i am going to hiding!#UNLESS!...........u want to plot with this Disaster of a woman :eyes:

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ambarto · 4 years ago

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Finwean Ladies Week Day Two: Lalwen

Headcanons again today, and this time I’d like to talk about my headcanons for Lalwen, which I think I have mentioned a little in the past but what better occasion than @finweanladiesweek to ramble about all my thoughts. I can tell you Lalwen is definitely one of my favorite characters to think about.

Lalwen was what we could call a biologist. She was fascinated with animals, and in particular with all the kinds of bugs, spiders, and various little creatures that crawl on the ground. She liked other animals too, although still of the small kind, and usually animals most people don’t overly like (think lizards, snakes, that kind of stuff). She maintained that those small and often unseen parts of the ecosystem were much more fascinating than the macroscopic world of large mammals and birds. She described many species, and while animals were her favorite field of study, she was also the first in Valinor to posit that mushrooms were not plants, which was a rather controversial statement at the time.

Out of all her siblings, she was the one who got along the best with Feanor. She was quick to brush off any unkind words he might say, and had a sharp enough tongue to put him back in his place. She actually rather enjoyed talking with him, as he was also a scholar, and could keep up with her discussions of the efficiency of spiderwebs even if it wasn’t really his field of study.

Regarding her other siblings, Lalwen’s favorite was Fingolfin. They argued a lot, but it was usually the kind of sibling spats that got forgotten quickly. He was always the most willing to engage with Lalwen’s interests, and to go with her on rides exploring Valinor. Findis and Finarfin, on the other hand, both had a fairly different temperament than Lalwen, and different interests too. While all four siblings loved each other, usually Findis and Finarfin stuck in one corner talking about one thing, while Fingolfin and Lalwen sat in another talking about something else.

Despite being a Princess, Lalwen’s presence in the politics of Valinor was almost non-existent. She learnt early on that all the occurrences of court didn’t interest her, and if she could avoid being present at any given occasion she did. Findis used to scold her sister much for this, calling her irresponsible, as she thought as members of the royal house it was their duty to engage with politics. Fingolfin, on the other hand, usually enabled his younger sister, thinking that there was no need for her to be as involved as the rest of their family.

Lalwen was always, and especially in her youth, a very restless spirit. Already as a child she was the kind of kid who was always outside and running around, and would hate having to be in the house for an entire day. Growing, she became that sort of girl who her parents almost never saw, so much she spent with her friends, and partying, and going on trips. And since she was old enough to travel on her own, she would so often take her horse and leave Tirion for days or weeks, or sometimes months too, to explore all there was to see in Valinor. It was because of this restlessness that she followed Fingolfin out of Valinor - the idea of an entire other continent she had never seen before was too big a temptation for her to stay behind, no matter how much her mother begged.

In Beleriand, she never had a land to rule over, because she never had any interest in ruling. Not only the various details and politics involved were things she had no interest into, but governing would also mean that she’d have to spend most of her time still in one place. For the most part, she made herself a home in Fingolfin’s lands, but would often travel around. It actually made her brother worry himself sick, as Lalwen had the tendency of leaving whenever and without sending letters or word of where she was, until six months later she would write him saying that she was staying in Himring for a while and also did Fingolfin know about this cool worm she had found?

She survived the Dagor Bragollach, but not easily. She was wounded on the field, and was carried out unconscious as Fingolfin’s forces retreated. She lost her hearing in one ear, and one of her legs was wounded in a way that left her with a heavy limp. The impaired mobility in particular wasn’t easy for her to deal with, as it made traveling so much harder. Not that she had much wish to entertain herself, not right after her brother had been killed. She remained in Fingon’s lands until the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, at which point she instead moved to the Falas with Cirdan, and later followed him to Balar. While she couldn’t fight on a battlefield, she had developed a great knowledge of poisons thanks to her studies on various venomous animals, and she helped develop cures for many of the poisons Morgoth used in his weapons.

After the War of Wrath, Lalwen decided she wouldn’t stay in Lindon under Gil-Galad. Part of the reason was that by then she had seen so many of her loved ones die that it brought her genuine pain to be around Gil-Galad and remember that he was almost all the family she had left, let alone have people call her ‘Princess’, as if the title meant anything by then. There was a loneliness in Lindon that could only be cured by being more alone, or at least, not with people who would constantly remind her of everything she had lost. But also, Lalwen’s desire to explore had never really stopped, and by then she had learnt how to deal with her disability, so she took a horse, and left.

Eventually, after much traveling, she realized that she was turning into an old lady, as Men said. She had traveled through all of Middle Earth, much of Harad, and had even decided to go look if she could Cuivienen a couple times, and she was growing tired of always being moving around. When she was a girl, that would have been the ideal, but after many thousands of years Lalwen found herself wishing to find a place to settle in. Not to mean that she would never travel again, just that she would have liked to have a nice house to go back to and rest, and know that there were people she knew waiting for her there. That being said, she also still wanted nothing to do with politics, not to mention that everyone else seemed to be handling things well, and she didn’t feel the need to upset any political balance with her reappearance. In the end, she decided to settle in Greenwood at some point during the Third Age. She did come clear to Thranduil about who she was, and he allowed her to stay so long as she did not cause trouble, which was alright by her. Other than him, very few people knew or suspected who the eccentric Noldo with a cane and a lot of opinions about taxonomical classifications was.

Lalwen had had through her life many romantic stories and affairs, and definitely more than many would deem appropriate for a Princess. With some Elven ladies, occasionally she’d fell in the bed of a mortal, and maybe once or twice in that of a Dwarf. The longer she lived the more she found old Valinorean ideas on marriage and courtship and so on rather stuffy. That being said, she had never really ruled out a wedding altogether, and the day she realized a Silvan hunter of Greenwood was starting to mean a lot to her, she decided maybe she was old enough to leave her amorous adventures behind and get herself a wife. Fortunately, her lady didn’t mind finding out that Lalwen was a mostly forgotten Noldor Princess, and Lalwen’s proposal was accepted with enthusiasm.

Eventually, Lalwen sailed back to the West with the Last Ship, together with Cirdan and Celeborn. She had seen as much of Middle Earth as there was to see, and while she did love the land, she had long since started thinking back about her homeland. Her wife, while not Eldar, had also started to get weary of a land that was more and more mortal and less and less suited for Elves, and decided that like many others of her people she also would have liked to follow the gulls.

Now, Findis, firstborn of Finwe and Indis, Princess of the Noldor, sister to the High King Arafinwe, known poet and debater, was as a general rule against violence, but when she saw her sister hop off a ship after six thousands years of no contact with a wife and apparently uncaring of having basically disappeared, her fist might have just happened to collide with Lalwen’s nose.

#finweanladiesweek #my headcanons #irime #lalwen

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echodrops · 4 years ago

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Home and a Half Pidge Headcanons

An ask I got yesterday reminded me that I never posted the HaaH headcanons for Pidge like I promised, so here they are! (I’ll answer the actual ask as soon as I can with some new material instead of headcanons I already had written... oops...)

Anyway, without further ado, some headcanons for Pidge related to my fic Home and a Half!

Pidge:

- Grew up in the picture of the nuclear family: mom, dad, two kids, dog, nice upper-middle-class house in a quiet neighborhood, dinner on the table at 7:30pm on the dot… Of all the paladins, Pidge had the most stable and “average” childhood… at least on paper.

- In reality, there is not a single person in the Holt family who isn’t eccentric as fuck. Grandma Holt? May or may not still be an active intelligence agent for MI6. The dog? Woofs in Morse code. Auntie Ariana? Has actually seen the Jersey Devil. Colleen Holt? Has killed a man. If you ask Pidge, she’ll say that her upbringing was perfectly normal and she’ll genuinely mean it, but this is a consequence Pidge having no idea what “normal” even means.

Rest under the read more to save your dash:

- Not actually a girly-girl when she was young. Although they’re eight years apart and thus unlikely to be mistaken for one another, very early on Pidge got frustrated by how similar she and Matt look, and she definitely did not want to wear his tacky hand-me-down clothes, so she pitched a royal fit and insisted on wearing dresses and hairbands so that her family would have to buy Pidge all her own things. (They probably would have bought them anyway if she’d just asked calmly, but Pidge was three at the time, and they were all very impressed by her grasp of cause and effect.)

- Of course, when Matt disappeared on the ill-fated Kerberos trip, those tacky hand-me-downs ended up being some of the most important items in Pidge’s life. Even outside of infiltrating Garrison, wearing Matt’s old clothes was one of the few comforts Pidge would allow herself—when she cut her hair and put on his baggy shirts, for a second, looking in a mirror, she could almost convince herself he was still there—

- Pidge has no intention of changing the way she dresses or styles her appearance until she’s reunited with Matt and her father. After that? Well, they may not be the coolest looking things ever, but Matt does have a point that baggy t-shirts are very comfy…

- And okay, because I’m sure everyone expected this headcanon first: Pidge and gender is a surprisingly uncomplicated subject. Side note before I go further: I’m sure everyone has their own headcanons for this and none of what I say here should be taken as rejecting or invalidating any other fan’s views on Pidge. The only thing invalid in the Voltron fandom is canon. Anyway, I personally like to imagine that Pidge is very ambivalent on gender. There is so much else going on—the war, Sam and Matt being missing, freaking giant robot space cats—that sitting down and sorting out the question of “Do I identify as male, female, nonbinary, or anything else?” is just really, really low on Pidge’s to do list. Pidge thinks of Pidge as “Pidge” and even that’s rare because Pidge doesn’t sit around thinking about herself or what other people think of her.

- In fact, what strangers think is, in general, extremely low on Pidge’s radar. Although she used to be more self-conscious due to bullying from both classmates and her teachers, the combination of her parents’ consistent support and Matt’s… extreme tactics (“I’m telling you Pigeon, nanobots in their lunches will solve all your problems.” “That’s illegal, Matt.” “Nothing is illegal until you get caught.”) Pidge (mostly) overcame the phase of being affected by other people’s opinions. Who cares what strangers think? Absolutely none of them will ever be even close to as smart and talented as her family anyway. (My IQ is three times yours, your argument about my gender is literally invalid.)

- By the way, I’m using “her” simply because that’s what I’m used to seeing in the fandom and to keep the fic and headcanons consistent, but in the functional world of HaaH, Pidge answers to any pronouns and doesn’t have a preference for any set in particular over others. In fact, Pidge is used to going by different sets of pronouns coming from different people, and might be “he” to one person, “she” to another, and “they” to yet someone else. Pidge is just… Pidge.

- Again, with the war and Voltron and missing family and literally everything else going on--and the fact Pidge is far more practical than all of the rest of her fellow Team Voltron members combined--she isn’t wasting time and energy doing something as troublesome as falling in love with an alien. (“Keith, can’t your melodrama wait until after we win the war?” “My drama waits for no man.” “Then please explain how you and Lance manage to engage in synchronized dumb-fuckery at least three times a week.”) Eventually, after life has settled down and Pidge has had some time to think about it, she’ll realize that the reason she somehow managed to avoid any romantic entanglements in space isn’t because she’s just much more mature than her teammates (although this might be true)—it’s that she’s just not really interested in romantic engagements with anybody, period.

- Pidge’s one true love is discovery; she feels far more passionate about knowledge and learning new things, encountering new puzzles, and grasping new concepts than she does about anything else. In between all her creations and codes and experiments and observations, it just doesn’t feel like there’s room—or that there needs to be room—for a romantic relationship with a real person.

- Pidge will make room for friends though, if and when they insist on worming their ways into her life. She tends to be a fairly private person who has never really had a large friend group (back on Earth, before Garrison, there wasn’t anyone but Matt and her parents who really understood her, and she didn’t have much in common to discuss with children her own age), but once someone earns Pidge’s trust, she does open up and form close bonds and she will give her all to help and be there for her few, but close, friends.

- Meeting Hunk at Garrison was a huge revelation. Up to that point in Pidge’s life she had never really met any young person outside her own family with a soaring genius-level IQ that was a match for her own. Although she and Hunk bicker frequently because their approaches to science are extremely different, she’s still over-the-moon to have someone who doesn’t stare at her like she’s talking gibberish whenever she goes off on one of her tangents.

- If you ask Pidge, she will violently swear up and down that Lance never and in. no. way. reminds her of Matt, fills in for Matt in the lame-older-brother role, or helps her miss her brother just a little bit less. That did not happen, never had a chance of happening, what are you even talking about—

- But if you ask about Shiro, she will be flat-out honest and admit she totally thinks of him as Space Dad. It’s not her fault. Shiro literally hero worships Sam Holt (still to this day!!) and may or may not have taken on more of his mentor’s mannerisms in order to fill the leadership role for Team Voltron. Sometimes Shiro will say or do something and Pidge will be absolutely dumb-struck because he got that from my dad is an actual thing she has to deal with.

- “Pidge” is actually a derivative of “Pigeon.” Everyone in the Holt family has a bird-based code name. Mr. Holt is Eagle Two.

- People often get the impression that Pidge is scatterbrained because she can talk about ten different things at once and pounces on leaps in her own logic that other people just can’t follow, but her thoughts and speech are very organized. It’s not her fault you couldn’t understand her system of organization if you tried.

- Put Pidge on the spot on a subject she doesn’t know, though, and watch the awkward jump right out. (“Oh, you meant the pop band Galileo, not the person. You know, that’s really an easy mistake to make. You can hardly blame me when you stop to consider all the similarities between modern chord progression and the trajectory of supermassive objects like—”)

- And if it’s not awkward, it’s defensive. Pidge may be hyper-intelligent, but she’s still very, very young, and it’s hard not to get snappish when challenged by people whose opinions she really does care about. She has a far quicker temper than Matt (who is a “revenge is a dish best served cold” champion), a trait she shares with their mother. Colleen, in turn, blames it on her having been born in New Jersey. Pidge has flipped so many tables on the Castleship that Coran and Lance eventually went around and bolted them all down.

- Do not even so much as hint that Sam and Matt Holt might be dead instead of just missing in space. Keith is still scared after his last attempt at reasoning with Pidge about her family’s fate.

- Has a bad hoarding habit. Back on Earth she had her parents there to insist she clean her room at least once a week, but in space, things are getting a bit crazy. The Castleship closets and cabinets can hyper-condense their contents and she’s STILL running out of room for all the neat doodads and parts and scientific wonders she finds on their adventures across the galaxy. Is definitely in the “Look, there’s still a mostly clear path to the door; it’s fineee” category. It’s not like she finds it hard to let things go once she’s gotten attached to them or anything. Nope. Definitely not.

- Pidge’s mess is absolutely of the “everything has a proper place” type though. Move anything with her name on it and you will feel her wrath.

- As the only one of the Earth paladins to have technology on her when they were unexpectedly swept off to war, everyone on the ship relies on Pidge’s laptop for their monthly dose of Earth nostalgia. Good thing for them Pidge and Matt’s pirating skills put Pirate Bay to shame, and she’s got basically every Earth movie from 1980 to the present. She even has every episode of the timeless classic F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Keith hates that show with a burning passion that even he cannot explain.)

- Speaking of technology Pidge had on Earth—every single person in the Holt family is (and has been for decades) aware of the existence of aliens. Pidge’s family tree has been involved in communications, radio wave technology, and interpreting space observations since those fields were first invented. When Earth first identified patterns of waves that obviously corresponded to alien communications going on outside Earth’s galaxy, Pidge’s great- great- grandfather was there. When world governments covered up the discovery, he was the loudest voice of dissent. Since then, the Holt family has been deeply involved in military and space operations across several countries, operating from within an oppressive system they fundamentally disagree with, using their positions of authority to monitor the Milky Way and beyond, keeping tabs on what the aliens might be saying—and what messages Earth might be inadvertently sending back.

- Of course this is top secret work—secret even from the Garrison and government where the Holts were employed. Other kids learn how to play piano and soccer; Pidge and Matt learned how to hack virtually impenetrable military databases and hide their data behind uncrackable ciphers instead.

- But the Kerberos Mission was supposed to be safe. They’d all monitored the chatter so closely—there hadn’t been anything hostile anywhere even near Earth’s galaxy, no sign at all of any technologically advanced race like the Galra in years and nothing about one little Earth mission that would disturb any other intergalactic travelers anyway… Why would they...

- Pidge is surprisingly athletic for a self-professed nerd. With youthful energy to burn and a family to save, Pidge took to Allura and Coran’s intense Altean training like a duck to water, and while she’s not quite Shiro or Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she can definitely holds up better than Hunk or Lance.

- Favorite color is actually yellow, and if Green wasn’t totally The Coolest™ lion, she’d be sort of salty about Hunk getting the Yellow Lion instead.

- Absolutely capable of cursing up a blue storm, and hasn’t been friends with Hunk quite long enough yet to remember to censor herself around him all the time like Lance does with his “Holy crow!”s. She’s trying, dammit!

- Big on pets. Gets attached to pet-shaped creatures (whether living or robotic) very easily. 110% kept the space caterpillars, who live happily free-roaming the piles of space junk in her bedroom. The space caterpillars and the space mice do not get along, however, as the space mice do not take well to having their status as the favored fuzzy team mascot squad threatened. In their micro-Cold War, which is occurring without any of the ship’s humanoid occupants being aware, the space caterpillars are currently winning.

- The caterpillars’ names are Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton.

- Remember that one post about Lance drawing angry brows on the space caterpillar and siccing it on Keith? I very much accept that as canon. Pidge was Not Happy™ when she found out what Lance had done and she is NOT letting anyone else near her caterpillars again any time soon. Is very, very careful not to let Niresh see the space caterpillars so that they don’t end up stolen right from under her nose.

- Speaking of the kids, Pidge is super awkward with them and skedaddles at the first sign of tears. Next to Allura, there is probably not any member of the team worse suited to babysitting duty. That said, as someone who has lost members of her family in the war, Pidge is probably the member of the team who most directly understands Dulsara’s anger and the children’s loss. That doesn’t mean she’s really ready to let herself sympathize with the Galra though, at least not until she finds her own family first.

- Pulls all the most bullshit moves in Monsters and Mana. Whenever the team reminiscences on the truly legendary moments from their campaigns, somehow Pidge is the star in all of them.

And that’s all I’ve got for now!

#pidge #Voltron #Pidge headcanons #voltron headcanon #HaaHVLD #Home and a Half #voltron fanfic

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sorceress-coffee · 4 years ago

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The Trolls’ Day in the Sun

AO3 Link Phase 2 - Chapter 22

Jim and I decided that the best person to ask about Draal’s sudden transformation would be Vendel. As soon as Draal woke up, we got him into slippers, which was more of I fight than I expected, covered him in blankets, and dragged him to Trollmarket.

“Do you want to incite a panic?” He growled out, keeping out of the sun. If he turned to stone in this form, he’d never hear the end of it.

“Vendel is the only troll who might have some semblance of an idea as to why you’re a human now,” I reasoned, taking out the horngazel to open the portal.

“Not to mention we can’t exactly leave you at the house, we don’t know if anything else will happen,” Jim sighed, leading us down into the market.

We quickly avoided curious stares, dragging Draal to the Heartstone. Jim paused as we passed the forge, “You two get to Vendel. River, I think we need to have a word with the council.”

I nodded, rushing Draal into Vendel’s study, interrupting his reading.

“River? What in blazes has you so agitated?” Vendel asked, setting his scrolls down eyeing the blanket-covered form next to me.

“Well,” I trailed off. With a sigh, I pulled the blanket from Draal’s head.

Vendel jumped back before letting out a snarl. “Oh, no! Not another one! I let the pudgy one stay for moral support, the female because she has potential, and your changelings because you keep an eye on them, but another human?!”

“Really, you old goat?” Draal snarled, catching Vendel off guard, “Not like I’m happy about being a fleshbag either.”

“Vendel, it’s Draal,” I winced as Vendel’s jaw dropped, “We were hoping you might know how this happened?”

Vendel took a moment to recover before directing Draal to a stone slab. As he began to poke and prod at Draal, I took a seat, feeling the void pull me from my body.

When I opened my eyes, Jim was being shown our trip to Gatto’s keep. “He found the Birthstone,” one of the previous Trollhunters spoke.

“He thinks he can kill Gunmar?” Another cackled.

“We told him he couldn’t” Snarled a third.

“Silence!” Kanjigar cut through the memory to Jim and me.

Jim glared, angered that the Trollhunters lied to him about being able to kill Gunmar. “You said it was impossible to kill Gunmar, but we found a way. You’re either a lousy council or a worse liar.”

Kanjigar grit his teeth, “We needed to deter you from making a grave mistake. You were lucky to obtain the Birthstone, but the journey will only grow more treacherous from here onward.”

I snorted, shaking my head, “How is killing Gunmar a grave mistake? Isn’t that what the Trollhunter was designed to do? Protect our worlds from him?”

“And, with all due respect,” Jim huffed, “you said a Trollhunter should only work alone, but if it weren’t for my friends, I wouldn’t even have the first stone.”

“If it weren’t for your incessant need to pull people into your fight, my son wouldn’t be a human,” Kanjigar growled.

I pulled Jim back, snarling at Kanjigar, “For everything Draal’s told me about you, making Trollhunting personal was never mentioned.”

Kanjigar snapped his mouth shut at my words, sighing as the other spirits began to bombard us. “They won’t listen! They mock us! What’s the point of council?”

“If you insist on risking the lives of everyone you care about, I advise you to listen to reason!” Kanjigar scolded, waving the other spirits away.

“Jim!” Arrrgh voice cut through the void, “Jim!”

“Your friends, they seek you.” Kanjigar’s eyes drifted off for a moment, “There is trouble in Trollmarket. An intruder! Go!”

“An intruder?” Jim asked, concerned, “How’d he get in?”

“Go!” Kanjigar yelled, forcing us from the Void.

I crashed into my body, hearing the panic and yelling from the market. Without pausing, I sprung up, flashing out to the market as Jim came running with Arrrgh, donning the armor.

“Hey, stop!” Jim called out as the group who caught the intruder began threatening him. “Let him go!” He ordered glaring at the troll holding him.

The troll snarled at Jim, holding the ropes tighter.

“I’m the Trollhunter. I’ll deal with it. Let him go.” Jim glared back at the troll.

I stood next to him, eyes glowing blue as I forced my sclera to change, making the Troll jump back a bit. He eyed Arrrgh behind us before letting go of the rope, dropping the intruder.

Jim summoned Daylight, cutting the bag open, causing a middle-aged human male to pop out of the sack. “Oh. Thank you, Jim.”

Jim jumped back, confused. Arrrgh reared up on his hind legs, growling at the intruder. Realizing who it was, I covered my mouth, trying to keep my laughter at bay.

Jim pulled Daylight on him, “How did you get past Trollmarket’s barrier and how do you know my name?” He asked, glaring down the human.

“Master Jim, it’s me, Blinky.” The human spoke, staring down Daylight.

“No. He lies,” Arrrgh growled. I shook my head, whacking Arrrgh’s arm, still shaking from laughter.

“I can prove it. Your mother is Barbara Lake. Your best friend is Tobia Domzalski. Your father disappeared when you were five. Your sister, Lady River, is the daughter of Lady Ganieda and Garridan the changeling.” This little bit of information caused the Trolls around as to gasp, eyeing me closely as they debated the truth of his statement.

“Spy,” Arrrgh snarled, pulling me between his arms incase the Troll got any ideas. Jim lifted Daylight to the human’s neck, backing him away from us.

“And we just replaced the ignition on your Vespa last week,” the human began to panic.

“Did Strickler put you up to this? You’re working for him, aren’t you?” Jim asked. “How did you get in here? I won’t ask again.”

I flashed between Jim and the human, grabbing Jim’s shoulder to push him back, laughter finally escaping, “It’s like Draal!” I gasped out, leaning on Jim’s shoulder as I broke into a giggle fit.

“I do not appreciate your tone of voice, Master Jim. Is this the way you address an errant stranger in need?” Blinky asked from behind me. “And you knew the entire time, Lady River! I expected more from you two.” He crossed his arms over his chest as Arrrgh came up behind Jim, staring at Blinky confused.

“Blinky?” Jim asked, realizing he was in the same situation as Draal. He circled the Troll turned human in shock. “You look terrible!”

Bliny sighed as Arrrgh began to poke at him, chuckling at his squishiness. “Squishy.”

Among other things, my considerable companion,” Blinky pouted as Jim lifted his arm.

I circled Blinky, “We should probably get you to Vendel too.”

“Too?” Blinky asked as we headed for the Heartstone.

I snorted as we entered the study, Vendel was fitting Draal with a much smaller prosthetic as we entered. “Take a look for yourself.”

“Draal?!” Blinky shout at the other humanoid in Vendel’s study. “What in Gorgus’ name is going on?!”

“I am at a complete and utter loss,” Vendel glared, eyeing Blinky’s human form. “Though whatever happened it seems to either be spreading or you were exposed to the same enchantment.”

“Is there anything you can do for them?” I asked, seeing Draal’s growing agitation at being stuck in a fleshbag body.

“I can turn wolftoads into willowbait, and willowbait into wolftoads, but this?” He gestured between Blinky and Draal, he began poking at Blinky’s face. “What nonsense have you stumbled into now, Blinkous?”

He slapped Vendel’s hand away, “Nothing unusual.”

“Eaten by Gatto,” Arrrgh called out, playing with a helmet he found stored on one of Vendel’s shelves.

Vendel grabbed Blinky’s head, scolding him. “You went into Gatto’s Keep?” He took a deep breath, glaring over us, “Just what kind of INSANITY possessed you?!” He snarled.

“It was my decision,” Jim defended, “We went for the Birthstone.”

“Draal and I had the unfortunate experience of being swallowed by the slubberdegullion and drenched by numerous potions and,” Blinky cut off as Vendel dropped him, jumping from the stone table as he came to a realization, “Oh, my Gorgus!” He cried out, “That must be the explanation for our transformation!”

“Looks like it wasn’t allergies then,” I sighed, helping Draal with the final adjustments of his new prosthetic while Vendel went on a tirade.

“And why would you venture,” He began to ask, looming over Blinky.

“To complete the Triumbric Stones,” Jim stated, Blinky immediately covered his mouth. Jim pulled it down, rolling his eyes at his mentor antics. “So we can destroy Gunmar and save Claire’s brother.”

Blinky quickly backed away, hiding against Arrrgh as we all braced for Vendel’s wrath. “Vendel mad?” Arrrgh asked, wanting to get it over with.

“MAD would be a significant improvement!” He yelled, slamming his fist on the stone slab. “The Trollhunter is to protect Trollmarket, not risk his life chasing stones from fairy tales.”

I pulled the Birthstone from my satchel, tossing it to Jim. Jim quickly placed it on the slab where Vendel hit causing him to break off of his rant to gasp in awe.

Using his magnifying glass, Vendel began to exam the stone, “Oh, my… Gunmar’s birthstone. The legends are true!” He carefully picked it up with forceps, rotating it slowly before pulling back, storing it in the satchel on his belt. “This stays here, safe from your bumbling hands.”

“Hey!” I pouted, “You’re the one who taught me how to handle gemstones, and I’m the one who’s been holding on to it.”

“You went to Gatto’s keep, with your blood you’re lucky he didn’t add you to his collection!” Vendel snapped, leaving no room for argument as Gatto had tried to do just that.

“Speaking of hands,” Blinky interrupted our argument, “uh, when am I going to get my other two back?” Vendel approached him, shaking his head. “It could be days, weeks! It’s impossible to know when an enchantment of this severity will wear off.”

“Well,” Blinky sighed, whacking Vendel’s hand away as he tried to prod at him again. “What shall we do until then?”

“I can’t imagine the other Trolls being too happy to have us around right now,” Draal snarled testing his hand out, nodding once the movement felt right.

“It’s your choice,” Vendel shrugged, smirking down at them. “Stay here for me to poke and prod, or enjoy your day in the sun.” He sneered, turning back to his scrolls, “For as long as it lasts.”

We quickly gathered ourselves, heading up to the canals. The trolls recognized Draal due to the similar prosthetic, some tried to rile him up, but as soon as my eyes flashed with fire, they backed down quickly. Arrrgh escorted us up to the canal exit, opening the portal.

Jim and I walked out first as Blinky and Draal paused in the shadows with Arrrgh. “You ready?” Jim asked, smiling at there hesitation. “Don’t worry, it’s not gonna hurt.”

Arrrgh sighed, nudging Blinky, worried about whether or not he would get hurt in the sun, even as a fleshling. Blinky sighed, turning to Arrrgh, “I’m sorry you won’t be joining me on this adventure, my friend.”

Arrrgh smiled, nodding to Blinky as he nudged him towards Jim and me.

Jim pulled Blinky out as I pulled Draal. Arrrgh covered his eyes, not wanting to see them turn to stone. As soon as they both entered the sunlight the shut their eyes tight, waiting for death.

“There you go.” Jim grinned as they slowly opened their eyes.

“See? Neither of you turned to stone!” I cheered, hugging Draal as his eyes adjusted to the daylight.

Blinky ran out from the bridge, staring at the sun. I shook my head, knowing exactly what was going to happen. I waved to Arrrgh as we headed out of the canal, having to chase after Blinky.

“He’s a little too happy about this,” Draal eyed Blinky, unsure how he could be so excited about being a human.

“It’s a learning experience, you know how much he loves those,” I teased, elbowing Draal’s ribs.

He winced, grabbing his side. “Fleshbags are too soft.”

“I’ve seen the surface so many times, but never like this.” Blinky grinned as we made it up to the bridge. It’s so beautiful!” He backed into the street as a car drove by, the person threw a soda can at his head as he swerved to miss Blinky.

Blinky laughed picking up the can, as we tried to pull him out of the street. “What a kind gesture. Thank you, stranger!” He waved to the car. “I was in need of a snack.”

“No, no, Blinky, wait!” Jim tried to stop him as Blinky bit down on the can.

Wincing, he pulled the can from his mouth, confused. “Well, that does not taste very good anymore.”

Jim pulled Blinky back to the sidewalk as another car drove by, honking at us.

“Why don’t we head home and get some food, we could all use something to eat,” I giggled, taking the can from Blinky before he tried to eat it again.

“If cans are no longer edible, I’m assuming that there will more things we can’t eat?” Draal asked, eyeing the can.

I nodded, texting Eemeli and NotEnrique, “Exactly, things like rocks, coal, socks, metal,” I trailed off, “You know what, just ask first. That’ll be your safest bet.” Draal nodded, keeping close as we walked.

Eemeli pulled up as we reached the house. Grinning at us, he burst out laughing looking between Draal and Blinky, NotEnrique popping his head from the bag. “Oh, this is rich!” Eemeli snorted as we headed inside.

Draal growled, glaring at the Changelings. “Why are they here?” He asked, irritated at being made fun of.

“I asked Eemeli to bring you some clothes. Sweatpants and slippers aren’t going to long.” I smiled, taking the bag Eemeli offered up. “Find something in here to change into while we get some food together.”

Draal, grumbled, nodding his thanks to Eemeli as he took the bag, heading to the downstairs bathroom to change.

Eemeli snickered, “Okay, seeing you all couple-y with a human is unnerving.”

“Agreed!” NotEnrique barked out, laughing at Draal and Blinky.

Jim and I headed into the kitchen, scrounging up leftovers for everyone, “Really?” I asked, reheating the pizza. “Just feels like Draal,” I shrugged.

Eemeli shook his head, “How does the Noodle feel about her Pebble going on fleshy?”

“Not sure, she’s been knocked out since Gatto’s Keep. I think the heat exhausted her.” I explained reaching into my hoodie to scratch softly over her scales.

NotEnrique hopped up into the seat, playing with the scrub brush. “She’s an ice-based familiar, course the heats gonna get to ‘er.”

Blinky smiled, eating the pizza as soon as I pulled it from the microwave, ignoring the burning in his mouth, “She will be fine, a little rest will do her good. Perhaps she’ll be less of a grouchy serpent when she awakens.”

Jim shook his head, passing Blinky a glass of water to cool his tongue off. “Take it easy Blink. You can hurt yourself with food.”

“We’re that fragile now?” Came Draal’s disgruntled voice as he entered the kitchen. He looked college-ready in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, tied together with a letterman jacket.

“Ironic colors,” I rolled my eyes, realizing Eemeli somehow got his hands on an Arcadia High wrestling jacket.

“Strickler gave it to me, part of the undercover bit,” Eemeli smirked, “Never did well in human wrestling thought, too many rules.

I rolled my eyes, hugging Draal as he settled at the counter, “We’re, well, humans aren’t really that fragile, it’s just if you eat food that’s too hot it can melt your skin and it takes a few days to heal.”

“Humans can heal from melting? Fascinating!” Blinky grinned as he began to rifle through the fridge. “There’s so much I haven’t seen of your world. So much I want to do!” He passed some pizza and items from the fridge to Draal.

“Human food,” Draal huffed, “We couldn’t have don’t the taco truck?” He sniffed at the food, trying the pizza first. Grinning, he began stuffing the rest of the pizza in his face, “Never mind!”

“Well, we can count pizza on our new take out list,” I giggled, swiping a piece from the tray.

“I’ve never cared much for human food, but,” Blinky unloaded an entire box of cereal into his mouth, “but the flavor!”

“I guess things taste different for Trolls, huh?” Jim asked, watching Blinky and Draal in awe as they devoured everything in sight.

“They’ll have to eat more often too now,” Eemeli explained, “At least three times a day, and not so much at once.”

“Why is that?” Draal asked, eating a freshly made bowl of popcorn.

“Trolls get sustenance and energy from the Heartstone, eating for us is more celebratory, humans on the other hand get energy from food, water, and sleep. Coffee if you need a boost.” Eemeli went over quickly, giving Blinky and Draal a crash course so they can function. “You use up energy as you do things during the day so you have to replenish that energy.”

“Is that why you eat all the time?” Blinky asked, turning to me.

“Well yeah, even I run off of food,” I paused, realizing that since I wasn’t human, that might not be the case, “Do I?”

Draal shrugged, pushing the popcorn bowl between us. I smiled, sharing with him.

“If only I had two more hands to eat faster,” Blinky sighed, dismayed at only have two hands now. “What do you call this cuisine?” He asked Jim, holding up the empty Tupperware that once had lasagna in it.

“Uh, leftovers?” Jim winced, in shock at the rate Bliny and Draal could empty the kitchen.

“I can’t even look at you!” NotEnrique laughed, still hanging out in the sink. Using a wooden spoon to gesture at Blinky. “Your whole body is like an old sausage left on the grill too long.”

Blinky huffed, setting his next food victim down, “Very amusing.” He glared at NotEnrique, “Who invited him?”

“It’s boring sittin’ round the crib all day.” NotEnrique huffed, “When River let us know about that change, I didn’t know it was into a fat, balding, hot fudge sundae!”

“Oh, and what are your opinions on Draal human form?!” Blinky scowled, yanking the spoon from NotEnrique.

“Oh, no. I’m not stupid enough to fall for that!” Notenrique snarled, “If I go insulting Moonlight’s mate, I’m gonna get a lance through the gut,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

A grumble sounded from Blinky’s stomach, alerting a new problem. “I think my stomach is trying to communicate with me.”

NotEnrique grinned, heading over to Blinky, grabbing a cup to listen to his stomach. “That ain’t your stomach, pal.” He snickered, poking at Blinky’s abdomen. “After eating a buffet like that, that fleshy inner tube of a body is about to spring a leak.”

“Ah,” Blinky began to panic, realizing what NotEnrique meant. “Oh, dear!” He cried out, running up the stairs to the second-floor bathroom quickly.

“At least he’s bathroom trained,” Eemeli laughed, watching Blinky run into the wall before making it up the stairs.

A car door slammed outside, alerting the rest of us to mom’s return from work. “Mom!” I jumped up, throwing the Tupperware into the dishwasher, and cleaning up the leftover food.

Draal ran for the door, pausing, “Do I, uh, have to hide now?” He asked, realizing he was human.

Jim grabbed NotEnrique, trying to shove him in the fridge, “You don’t, but he does!” He snapped.

Eemeli and Draal quickly stepped in, helping me clean up Blinky’s mess.

Mom opened the door as Blinky returned from the upstairs bathroom.

“I have to say, indoor plumbing is the most remarkable,” He trailed off, as mom walked in.

Gasping, mom backed into the door. “I don’t care what you’re doing, but if you’re not out of my house in five seconds, I have an orange belt in Krav Maga, and I will not hesitate to use it!” She threatened, glaring him down.

“Oh, no,” I yelped realizing what was about to happen.

Blinky tried to explain why he was here as mom snapped, going after his soft targets. As she kicked him to the ground, Eemeli helped Jim shove NotEnrique into the fridge, slamming the door on him.

“Blinky!” Jim jumped up, going to stop mom. “Mom, stop! He’s with us!” Jim stepped between them.

I ran to crouch by Blinky, checking over where mom had hit him. Adding a little magic as I helped him sit up. “Mr. Blinky, are you okay?”

“Kids? He’s? Oh!” Mom gasped, “Wait, what? I’m sorry, who are you?” She asked, helping me get Blinky to his feet.

“This is Mr. Blinky,” Jim tried to explain, unsure of what would keep mom from flipping out right now.

“What have they done now?” Mom asked, exasperated.

“No, no, no. They’re not in any Trouble, Dr. Lake. I’m here to… assist!” He grinned, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” Jim grinned, trying to find a plausible story “He’s our, uh, guidance counselor from school.”

“Mr. Blinky came over to check on everyone, Dr. Lake, and to meet with you and Draal here,” Eemeli stepped in, greeting mom easily as she was used to him coming around.

“Since when do guidance counselors make house calls? Wait, who’s Draal?” She asked, quickly spotting Draal walk in behind Eemeli.

“Mr. Blinky is new, mom!” I chimed in quickly, elbowing Eemeli in the ribs.

“Mr. Strickler just brought him in,” Jim finished up, standing on my other side, keeping mom from possibly attacking Draal as she had with Blinky.

Blinky cleared his throat, pulling mom’s attention back to him, “Do you mind if we speak alone?” He directed her to the dining room quickly, leaving us in the sitting room.

“When I first introduced to your kids, I never met anyone like them. They were scared, vulnerable, filled with questions and doubts. This led to them acting out. Both have experienced having a father walk out of their lives. River experienced this twice. It’s a traumatic experience enough on their own but at their tender ages.” Blinky sighed, glancing at Jim freaking out behind mom. “Toby and Claire have been supporting young Jim, through the play, camping trips, and late-night walks. Though a couple of the walks didn’t turn out well.” He sighed, referring to us breaking into the museum. “And Eemeli and Draal have been there for River. I’ve seen a significant improvement in River as her relationship with Draal has developed.”

I sunk on the couch, holding Draal's hand tight as I waited for mom to explode. I hope Blink knew what he was doing.

“Relationship?” Mom asked, confused seeing as she’s never met Draal before.

“Indeed, he is her boyfriend, after all,” Blinky explained, smiling at my stiff form. Holding his hand up to keep mom on task, he continued, “Since she began dating Draal, I’ve taken note that she’s opened up quite a bit. I’ve seen her smile, laugh, making friends in school. She even had… what do you call it?” He paused, tapping the table in thought, “Ah, yes! A girls’ night!”

Mom smiled softly, glancing back as Draal nudged me, making sure I was okay with everything Blinky was discussing. I smiled, leaning against his shoulder, glad he was able to be around for this.

“Dr. Lake, you have raised young River, but I know that her biological parents are somewhat of a mystery.” Blinky sighed, “The gift, the one from her father. It seems to have caused her a bit of shock. She’s started looking for him, and Jim and her friends have been supporting her.”

Mom sighed, getting up quickly. She headed for Jim and me, hugging us tightly. “If you needed to talk to someone…”

“Well,” Jim sighed, holding her hand. “You’re kind of always working.”

“That’s what this is about?” She asked, worried that had caused this, “The trouble you’ve been getting into and the late nights and the strange behavior?”

“The letter,” Jim smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, and I had to tell someone.”

“And I don’t like talking about things that, bring up the memories, but I knew I had to,” I sighed, grip tightening around Draal’s prosthetic.

“Mr. Blinky has helped us through a lot of stuff.” Jim smiled, finishing for both of us.

Mom hugged us tightly again, only pulling away to look at Draal, “You must be Draal then? How long has this been going on?” She directed to me.

“Months?” I sat back from the hug, smiling at Draal, “A few months now. The timing never worked out,” I shrugged, looking back to mom. “Draal’s a year older. He’s normally away at school, but he makes time to visit. We haven’t been able to work out a time that you were off to introduce you two.” I explained, hoping she wouldn’t be upset.

Mom smiled softly, looking between us. “You can make her smile, not many people have been able to do that.” She shook his metal hand in greeting, not even flinching at it. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Dr. Lake,” Draal smiled, careful of his grip on mom’s hand. “I apologize for not being able to get out here sooner.”

Mom shook her head, “Nonsense. Are you staying long?”

“I’m, uh,” Draal looked to me, trying to remember terms I used for school, “on break.” He decided, lifting his prosthetic, “Recovery break.”

Mom’s eyes widened, realizing it must have happened recently, “Then I insist you stay here. I’m a doctor, after all. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She smiled before finally turning back to me. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to know about your parents?”

I went from happy that mom was insisting Draal stay here, to wincing in an instant, “I,” sighing I took her hand staring at the locket around my wrist. “I didn’t think there would be anything to find, until dad’s gift that is. I just, I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem real.”

Mom hugged me tight, petting my hair back. “If you want to find them, I will help. They’re your birth parents, and I know how important family is to you.” She pulled back as Toby and Claire burst through the back door.

“Is it true?” Claire asked, running in, “Is it really true?” She stopped dead in her tracks in the kitchen, seeing all of us, including mom.

“We came as soon as we… Oh! Hi, Dr. L.” Toby greeted, eyes going directly to Draal and Blinky after jaw-dropping as he approached them.

“So, it is true,” Claire grinned, before looking down at a nonexistent watch, “you really can make it here from the school in under ten minutes.”

“Awesome sauce!” Toby chimed in, pulling at Blinky’s face.

While mom was distracted writing down her phone number for Mr. Blinky, the fridge burst opened. Judging by Claire’s panic, NotEnrique fell out of the fridge.

“Uh,” Jim pushed Toby off of Blinky, “we were just introducing mom to Mr. Blinky, our guidance counselor.”

“And to Draal,” I smiled, kicking Toby away before he could pounce on him.

“Good to see you again,” Claire greeted while holding a shivering Enrique.

Mom almost dropped the slip of paper she was handing to Blinky as looked from Claire to the door, positive she didn’t have Enrique when she came in with Toby.

“Do we mind if we borrow your kids and Mr. Blinky?” Claire asked.

“We’re burning sunlight, Dr. L. You know what I mean?” Toby snickered, excited to take the trolls turned human out during the day.

“Oh, yes, of course. Go,” mom smiled, shooing everyone from the house quickly, stopping me on our way out. “I expect to see you, Jim, and Draal home at a decent hour.” She smiled, kissing the top of my head before sending me out and stopping Jim behind me.

Draal sighed in relief next to me, finally letting himself relax, “Your mother is terrifying, I see where you get it from.”

“Just figuring that out now?” I smirked, holding his hand as I watched Claire toss NotEnrique, “You okay with her knowing that you’re staying here?”

“Probably better than sneaking around, this way she’ll know I’m at the house and won’t freak out.” Draal chuckled, finding it odd that he won’t have to stay in the basement.

“What now guys? It’s your big day!” Toby grinned, hopping off the porch.

“There’s only so much time and so much to do!” Blink began to rant, listing off everything he wanted to try as a human, driving seemed to be the thing he was most excited for.

“Well, the day is almost over,” Claire smiled, interrupting his rant, “but I know just the place. It’s a little bit of a hike, but well worth it.”

“Sounds like a plan then, you guys have fun,” Eemeli waved us off, “I have a changeling to keep an eye one.” He smirked, heading back into town.

“That’s ironic,” Draal snorted as we headed out into the woods.

“What? Witch hunter turned changeling spy?” I snickered, “I see what you mean.”

“I’m just glad Eemeli and NotEnrique are on our side,” Jim spoke up, “Will he be fine though? Strickler has that troll assassin running around.”

“I’ve met changeling’s with Eemeli’s type of training before, Master Jim.” Blinky grasped his shoulder as they walked, “If anyone can avoid a troll assassin it will be him.”

Claire smiled, leading us up to the top of a hill, “Almost there.”

“Who voted for hiking?” Toby asked, trailing behind us. “I thought we were supposed to be doing cool outdoor activities.”

Claire kicked some recycling out of the way as we made it to a clearing at the top. “Looks like someone had a party.

Blinky picked up a glass bottle, sniffing it, “Its, uh, charming.”

Jim shook his head, “No, Blink. She means this,” He turned Blinky to face the sunset.

Blinky and Draal both made their way to the cliff edge, watching the sunset it awe as the sky changed from blue to pink, fading into a dark purple around the silhouette of the city.

“This is breathtaking,” Blinky sighed out, almost walking off the cliff. Jim grabbed the back of his collar, keeping him from walking off.

“You can see this every day?” Draal asked, taking a seat with me further down.

I nodded, leaning against him, watching the sky. “Yeah, but it’s better watching it together.”

Draal hummed, thinking over his day so far, “River, do you want to find your parents?” He asked since Blinky’s counseling was the first time it was brought up.

I sighed, opening the locket, “I’m not sure,” I admitted, tracing the portrait. “I have more questions than ever before, and I know my father would have answers but,” I trailed off, uncertain how I felt about it.

Draal smooshed his face against my cheek, chuckling when he could feel my smile. “If you decide to look for him, then I will help. Fleshy or not.”

I closed the locket, smiling as I kissed him. I could always count on Draal to help me smile.

Claire’s screams pulled us apart as we jumped into action. A golem made of shattered glass climbed out of the recycling bin.

“Another golem?” Blinky shouted as we ran over.

I pulled midnight out, “Why is it glass?” I asked Jim.

“You said it was made of mud!” Toby yelled as the shattered wine bottle approached us.

“Well, there’s four of us and only one of him,” Jim glared the golem down as he summoned his armor. “Flank him!”

“Jim, I think we need a recount!” I yelled out as another golem approached from behind us.

A third quickly joined in. They surrounded us as Jim and I ended up back to back. Currently the only fleshlings with weapons.

I poured my magic into the Heartstone belt, summoning my armor as a golem swiped for me, only landing a blow to a metal bracer.

“Jim, what do we do?” Claire asked as she asked, trying to keep away from the glass.

“I don’t know, last time there was a weird doll in it!” Jim explained quickly, pushing Claire behind him as the golems drew closer.

“An animus totem. We must rip them from out of the beast’s hearts and destroy them.” Blinky explained as we were cornered.

“You mean, I gotta put my hand in that thing?” Toby screech, staring at the jagged glass, threatening to flay his skin.

“Stand back, friends. They are no match for the rocky fists of justice!” Blinky cheered as he rushed for one of the golems. As his hand made contact, he screamed, pulling it back. “Sharp things!”

“Did you forget you’re a human?” Draal snapped, grabbing a large stick and attack another golem.

Claire threw rocks at the golems, breaking their limbs off as Toby used a trashcan lid as a shield.

Jim and I kept cutting them down, but the golems regenerated much faster than the mud golem at school had. “We need to hit one hard and fast against the totem. Grab everything you can get your hands on and attack!” Jim instructed.

Claire and Draal attacked with large branches. Blinky found every rock her could and pelted the golems. Toby tried throwing a boulder way too heavy form him, he ended up with smaller rocks. A golem slammed into Jim, throwing him into a tree.

Toby and I quickly ganged up on the golem that attacked Jim. I flashed above it, lunging midnight straight down through its head as Toby used two smaller sticks to hack at it from the front. Midnight shattered the totem as it pierced the ground.

“He’s getting away!” Jim called out, chasing after the troll we saw at school.

“Jim!” I yelled after him, worried about him going off on his own.

“River, go after him!” Draal shouted as Claire took down the second golem.

Nodding I took off running through the forest, he couldn’t have gone too far yet. As I teleported through the woods, I could hear chanting. I followed it to a clearing where the troll assassin held Jim in some sort of trap.

“Next time we meet, hunter, Daylight will be mine to command.” The assassin sneered.

I teleport behind him, snarling, “Command this!” I snapped, lunging forward with Midnight.

The troll turned, using his staff to block, smirking down at me. “Interesting, in this form, you look just like your mother.” Grinning, his hand shot out, grabbing the collar around my neck.

I could feel my magic drain from the collar to the troll holding it. Yelping as the burning sensation took over. My troll-like features quickly showing through the glamour.

The troll chuckled, draining the magic from my collar as he pulled me forward, studying the changes. “Ah, now there you are Sunshine,” He sneered, gold eyes boring into my firelit orbs.

The name stuck something in me, forcing me into my mind as memories began to overwhelm me. Running through grand hallways, my mothering chasing after me. A woman in gold scooping me up, ‘careful Sunshine, we can’t let the king see you.’ Emerald eyes and a kind smile clouded my vision.

“The,” I gasped, ripping myself from the troll, “the lady in gold?” I held my head. A castle courtyard took my vision next as the troll circled me. A boy in blue singing lullabies as green and gold magic clashed around us. There was something warm. A blanket? No, it moved. A cat? I think it was a cat or was it a familiar?

“Memories are so fragile, how long have yours been locked away I wonder?” The troll grinned as he pulled me from the memory, a small blade held just above the collar against my throat. “What is this?” The troll snarled as he tried to move, gold magic cuffing his wrist.

I fell back from the blades, staring at the magic. The lady in gold? How could she do this? “Gana?” I gasped out, feeling the familiarity of the magic, but there was something off about it.

“You’re starting to remember her,” The troll pulled back, the magic vanishing as he did. “It seems the Pale Lady wishes to spare your life. I wonder how long that will last?” He growled, opening a portal of shadows using the staff. “Child, I am Angor Rot. If the Eldritch Queen wants you alive, then I will stall my hunt for your head. The hunter, however, I’ll be back for his.” He snarled, fading into the shadows.

“Jim!” Claire yelled out as Angor Rot disappeared.

“He’s in a stasis trap. Don’t touch the stones,” Blinky instructed as he jumped into the trap, knocking Jim out of it.

Draal found me on the ground, staring at the spot Angor had been standing. “River!” He rushed over, kneeling next to me and checking for injuries. “What happened?”

“Master Jim,” Blinky gasped out, pulling my eyes to Jim, half his face had glowing marks etched into his skin. “The golems,” he sighed kneeling next to Jim. “they were a distraction.”

“What does it mean?” Claire asked, the markings worrying her.

“The sigil of Angor Rot,” Blinky frowned, eyeing the sigil. “Master Jim, I fear you have been marked for a fate worse than death.

Jim shook his head as the mark faded. “River?” He turned to face me and Draal, having heard everything. “What did you see?”

I slowly lowered my hands from my head, not realizing I was still holding my hair tight. Shakily, I settled my hands in my lap staring at the locket. “My family,” whispered out, feeling weak as the collar pulled magic from me to power the glamour again. “There were more people and magic.”

Draal held my hands, steadying them as I recalled everything. “Take your time.”

Nodding, I closed my eyes. “I was running through a castle. Mom was chasing after me,” my brow furrowed as I focused on her face. “She looks terrified.”

“A castle?” Blinky asked, curious about the memories.

“The lady in gold is there, she called me Sunshine.” I frowned, focusing on her before shifting to the memory of the boy. “There’s a boy singing, I’m hugging his familiar,” I began nodding off, focusing on the lullaby. “My brother has a lute,” I yawned, leaning against Draal.

“What about the Pale Lady?” Jim asked, hoping I had a memory of her.

“The Pale Lady?!” Blinky shrieked, startling me enough to clear the drowsiness. “You saw the Pale Lady?!”

“I’m not sure, the name doesn’t stand out to me,” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands as I tried to think of a connection.

“Angor attacked River while she was stuck in a memory,” Jim began to explain, kneeling next to me. “He went to cut her throat and a weird golden light froze him in place. When River snapped out of the memory, he told her that the Pale Lady, wanted her alive.”

Draal snarled, pulling me close. “Over my stone body! I’ll tear that witch limb from limb!”

Jim frowned at Blinky and Draal’s reactions, “Who’s the Pale Lady and why does Draal want to kill her?”

Blinky sighed, hesitating for a moment, “She’s the Eldritch Queen, the one who, according to the only legend I could find on Lady Ganieda, killed her.”

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