#or maybe it's really just meant to be sort-of aimless and 'human' in that way. which again negates the need for this lore-brain barrier

[legionofpotatoes]

I played Season over the weekend, which if I had to condense "thematic meandering" into a videogame is probably what I would most closely end up with; but it was still a cozy chill time that targeted my very specific niche of robust cow petting mechanics. Followed by journaling the heck out of them.

I do think cute indies living and dying by their sincere desire to paint the human condition should never ever ever fall into the temptation of obtuse and nebulous worldbuilding that desperately needs to explain itself so it can function as an aesthetic blanket for their vignettes. Just keep it loose and metaphor-heavy, fellas.

Cause if you're not extremely, painfully specific about your intention with a story that centers ignorant tourism and historic preservation, you're gonna beef it, bud

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dance Monkey Dance

Is befriending the beast tamer really any safer than trying to survive on your own?

(The zombie AU is a horror story from everyone else's perspective.)

Ace flinched when he heard the distinct sound of the doors sliding open, just barely rattling in their frames.

Someone was here.

He’d always known that it was a possibility, of course, that his little hideout would be found. He had made sure that his convenience store wouldn’t look occupied, so it had always been a possibility that a stray survivor may wander in – hell, that was what he was counting on. He’d much rather have food come to him, than go out looking for something (or, if it came to it, someone) to eat.

But, when he tempted people towards his store, he was also tempting fate. He never knew which survivors were stronger than him, which fight might be his last.

This was all, of course, assuming that it wasn’t a zombie that had happened their way upon the place while roaming idly.

Or, maybe, it had followed him home after one of his hunts. It wasn’t impossible, even if it sickened him to think about it.

Because, if even one zombie had found him, then this place was doomed. Whether it was a hivemind or injured zombies exuded some sort of pheromone that called all of the others to them… it didn’t matter. There was never just one. Not really. The second you took down the first zombie, you had to move, because more would come. And, most of the time, they would even have friends with them, too.

He would have to abandon this place, and he didn’t want to, he’d been here for at least a few weeks, now, he was as fond of it as he could risk these days…

But, of course, it wouldn’t be much better if it was a human.

He pushed himself up onto socked feet, carefully tip-toe-ing towards the front of the store.

No one was speaking, but that didn’t mean much. He listened intently for rattling breaths, for clumsy limbs knocking against too-narrow aisles.

He waited for the cackling laugh that meant he had been found.

He reached the front of the store, and took a moment to steel himself before carefully peeking around an aisle.

It was a zombie, standing in the doorway, its head inclined just slightly to stare at the sensor above the door.

Ace’s fingers clenched tighter around his knife and he ducked back into hiding, making his way toward the opposite end of the store.

He wished he could say that he was used to zombies by now. That seeing one was little more than routine these days, that he didn’t care.

But there was no one around to impress, and he would admit, if only to himself, that he was a coward.

He pressed his free hand over his mouth and nose to muffle the sound of his breathing. Amateurs would hold their breath, but he knew better by now. Holding your breath just means that you’ll have to gasp for air in a minute or so, and zombies weren’t exactly aimless enough to be gone in a flash.

No, they were slow, lumbering creatures. With glassy, bored, dead eyes.

Even if it found nothing, it might linger here for hours while Ace crept around the store, trying his damnedest to keep off of its radar.

But it wasn’t as if he had a choice in the matter. He couldn’t simply give up and let it eat him.

Help would never come, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that there was something to wait for, that if he just continued surviving for long enough safety would be achieved. But he didn’t want to die, so he had to keep going. For as long as he could.

One day, his luck would run out. And, as he slowly traversed the aisles that used to feel almost like home, his heart stuck in his throat, he couldn’t help but worry that maybe today was the day.

Until he realized that he hadn’t caught sight of the zombie in a while. That he hadn’t heard it knock against anything.

He swallowed, thickly, leaning against an aisle heavily, his breath leaving him in a sigh, relief hitting him all at once. He tipped his head back, fanning himself with the hand that wasn’t holding his knife…

It was perched atop the aisle, its chin resting in its hand, watching him with glassy eyes that were just a little too intent, its face pulled into a grotesque smile.

He realized, too late, that he hadn’t heard it leave, either.

Ace nearly tripped over himself, but he was quick to recover, pushing himself back to his feet and taking off in the first direction he could.

It gave a peal of crackling laughter and gave chase.

Zombie movies will tell you that zombies are slow, ambling creatures.

Zombies are as fast as the humans they had once inhabited. They were clumsy, yes, long legs knocking into each other with every step, slowing themselves down ever so slightly, but they no longer felt pain, no longer worried about slowly turning a corner to not bump into a wall.

They didn’t fear having to dive after you, didn’t care so long as they could grab hold of one of your legs and pull, sending you crashing to the floor, your chin banging against the tile, your brain rattling in your head.

Ace spun around just in time to stop the zombie from immediately attaching its teeth to his shoulder, his palm flat against its forehead as it loomed over him, teeth gnashing, drool dripping from its maw.

He twisted the knife in his hand and slashed it across the zombie’s neck, barely even blinking at the spray of blood, at the way it spilled onto him. Staining his shirt, his hands, his neck, dangerously close to oozing into his mouth.

None of that mattered.

It was still moving.

Ace pressed his knife against its neck again and pushed, grabbing a fistful of its hair to hold it in place as he struggled to tear through its spinal cord.

Nails dug into his arms.

Movies always made things like this seem way easier than they were.

He tried to saw his way through the bone.

But all of the movement loosened his grip. His elbows trembled, and that was all of the warning he was given before they gave out.

It was on top of him, smelling of rot, grabbing at him and all he could do was weakly push at its chest. To stab at anything he could reach, even if he knew it wouldn’t deter it.

Gnarled hands grabbed him by the cheek and yanked his head aside, giving itself the perfect angle to tear his throat out.

“Please!” he screamed, though he knew it was useless.

And yet.

It paused over him. Perfectly still. So close that, had it been breathing, he would feel warm air puffing over his neck. Instead, there was nothing but blood slowly spilling onto him, far colder than any human being should be.

Ace trembled. Was it playing with him?

He had never seen this happen before, but he supposed he deserved this, after what he had done.

So why did he want to cry?

Finally, it started to lean toward his neck, slowly, before pausing again.

It almost seemed to groan, pushing itself off of him and shuffling away, towards the store’s back exit.

Ace lay there, clutching his chest. His breaths came in little puffs, barely there, not nearly deep enough for his lungs to feel satisfied. Somewhere, he wondered if this would be how he died – no wounds, just an anxiety attack in an abandoned store.

Well… that…

That sure did happen.

He felt a giggle threaten to rise from his throat, but he didn’t dare make a sound, in case it came back.

There was a crackle as the glass broke.

His eyes blew wide. Already?!

He scrabbled to his feet, rushing toward the front of the store –.

There was the dull murmur of someone talking.

Talking.

It was a human.

Had they heard him scream for help?

Was it a coincidence?

Why had the zombie fled? Had it not wanted to deal with two humans at once? Since when had that deterred a zombie?

But, then again, this one had been… smarter. It had played with its food, instead of attacking blindly.

If he wasn’t so determined not to retch and give his location away to whoever was trespassing in his store, he might have thrown up.

He strained his ears, instead. He couldn’t hear the person they were talking to – if they were talking to anyone at all, he knew that quite a few people had lost it by now. They were telling their possibly-imaginary-friend to grab a bite to eat.

He crept through the store again, a little louder than he would have usually preferred to be, creeping toward the person’s location.

The person was… largely uninteresting to look at, honestly. If he’d passed them back before the world went to shit, Ace’s eyes would have slid right past them without thought. Lots of soft browns, from their hair to their skin to their eyes, which really wasn’t anything of note. If he had to think of something to say, he would say the person was tall. Lanky looking, though Ace knew that there weren’t any truly unathletic people in the apocalypse.

The most interesting thing about them was that they didn’t seem to have a weapon on them.

Oh, and that cat at their heels, though that wasn’t that surprising. It wasn’t like there were a lot of people making friends these days, a cat would be far more trustworthy.

The cat growled at him as he approached.

Ace rolled his eyes internally.

Only to flinch when the person looked up, alerted by their cat’s behavior.

They shrieked and threw the can of beans at him.

Ace barely stopped himself from falling, grabbing hold of one of the shelves to stop himself from hitting the floor. His head ached (which is normal, considering he had just gotten literally beaned on the head), and he briefly brought his knife hand up to cradle it before his brain kicked in.

He brandished his knife, preparing to gut the guy.

But the cat hissed, baring its teeth at him.

Ace glanced down at the cat, silently preparing to kick it out of the way –.

He fell back, again, but this time he was perfectly happy to stay on the floor, scrambling away from that thing as fast as he could.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR CAT?!”

“Uhhhhh,” the person said, hesitating for a moment longer than Ace would usually prefer. “Nothing is wrong with him.”

The zombie-cat-thing’s pronouns are he/him, Ace thought, deliriously. Only to immediately disregard the thought, because he didn’t care about its pronouns right now!

“THEY'RE GREEN?!”

“And you’re white but I wasn’t going to say anything about that,” the person sniffed, crossing their arms over their chest, all self-righteous when they really shouldn’t be.

“First of all. I’m Japanese. Everyone here is Japanese. We’re in fucking Japan. Second. Of. All. Humans can be white! Cats can’t be green!”

“Explain Grim then,” they argued.

Ace stared at them.

This person was fucking with him. They had to be.

He grabbed a chunk of his own bangs and yanked, trying to ground himself through the pain, to pull a spur of adrenaline out so he could ignore the glaring red flag at his feet and attack this stranger.

It wasn’t working.

He, slowly, leaned against an aisle, all false casualness as he eyed the person up and down. “What is wrong with you?”

They frowned, as if they couldn’t imagine how any of this could ever be seen as clinically insane.

“I’m the weird one?! You were trying to kill me!”

A fair point, Ace supposed, but not one he really wanted to admit to. Mostly because the… ‘cat’ didn’t look particularly happy upon being reminded of this fact. And, if it wasn’t happy, then Ace would never be again.

“No, I wasn’t!”

The person looked at the knife in his hand.

He cleared his throat and dropped it. He tried for an innocent smile, but after all this time the feeling was completely foreign, pulling strangely at his lips. Hopefully, innocence was just as foreign to the person in front of him, as he was pretty sure that was the only way they would ever fall for his little ruse:

“You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Because you tried to stab me,” they said, flatly.

Please stop bringing that up.

He stuck his hand out. “C’monnnn, what’s a little stabbing between new friends?”

They locked both of their hands around his own, shaking his arm with way too much enthusiasm. “I’m Yuu!”

Ace could only blink dumbly at them. “Ace…” he returned, slowly, trying to pull his hand away, only for the person to grip him tighter.

Um?!

Suddenly, he found himself wondering whether the monster between them was the more dangerous one of the pair. Because this person was definitely unstable.

… no, the zombie was still much more of a problem.

“I… don’t think that they like me,” Ace said, slowly.

“He doesn’t like anyone,” Yuu assured him.

Ace kept his eyes locked on those of the zombie, who was looking at their hands with what could only be described as disdain.

Hesitantly, with his free hand, Ace pulled a scrap of meat from his pocket. It was a little old, seeing as refrigerators were a thing of the past, but if his suspicions were correct then it wouldn’t matter.

And, indeed, it snapped up the meat in seconds, licking its lips.

But it still didn’t look sated, not truly. Ace had no doubts that, the moment Yuu left, zombies would flock to his store.

… so, what if Yuu simply… didn’t leave?

He tried for another smile, shifting the hand still trapped in Yuu’s to somewhat return their hold. “Want to stick around for dinner?”

He hadn’t thought it would work. Yuu was right, after all – Ace had tried to kill him, staying was not in his best interest. But, for whatever reason, he had been perfectly happy to stick around. And Ace was happy to not die, so the arrangement worked for him, he supposed.

Ace… got used to Yuu’s presence.

It was almost nice.

Not necessarily because of Yuu himself, though the guy was occasionally funny, and the food he made was practically a gift from the nonexistent heavens. He was, overall, a decent enough ‘roommate’ to have.

But that wasn’t why it was nice. For the first time in months, Ace had gone over a week without seeing a single zombie.

Besides Grim, of course, but he seemed content to cling to Yuu’s side, almost tripping the boy whenever he tried to walk anywhere. For the most part, Ace left Grim alone, and Grim left Ace alone.

Ace got the feeling that Grim didn’t trust him.

Which was fair. Ace didn’t trust Grim, either. Yuu might have gained immunity from zombies, somehow, but that didn’t mean that it actually extended to Ace.

If Grim really was a cat, and not something pretending to be a cat because it appealed to what Yuu thought was cute, then Ace supposed a grudging tolerance was as close as he would ever get to Grim. Cats tended to pick one person to care about, everyone else was simply allowed to exist in the same space if they must.

But he could live with that, if it meant he could survive.

It wasn’t a perfect situation, of course. Yuu himself was proof of this. There was definitely something wrong with him, though Ace wasn’t sure what exactly it was.

Something had made him cling to Ace despite the blatant murder attempt. Something in the way that he insisted on not eating humans while not caring if Ace himself partook in it, in the way he censored the words that came out of his mouth, in the way he insisted he was good… while also relying on a zombie to survive. There was a dissonance there, and it didn’t take a genius to associate all of that with the mental strain of harboring one of the very things that had killed everyone’s friends and families.

But if you held your own survival above all else, then was it really that big of a deal?

A few mental health issues could make you want to die, sure, but Ace would never do something like that. He had come too far to quit now.

And he would help Yuu see this point of view, too. If not because Yuu was, generally, a cool guy to be around, then at least because being Yuu’s friend was a pretty foolproof method of survival.

… well, he would get to that once he got over this pesky problem he had:

The first time he manage to make Yuu laugh, Ace flinched. It was a snicker, hidden behind Yuu’s hand, but he could still feel himself tense up, something in the back of his mind screaming for him to pull out his knife.

He didn’t, but it was, perhaps, a close thing.

It also happened the second time Yuu smiled.

And the third time.

And many times after that.

Ace felt stupid. It was, after all, a normal thing that people did to express joy.

It was just… well, smiles didn’t mean anything good. At best, they were smiles given to him by other survivors right before they tried to steal from him. At worst, it was a zombie’s face stretching to bare its teeth right before it aimed for his throat.

It didn’t matter that Yuu had never once shown any kind of malicious intent in front of Ace, because every time a grin stretched across his newfound companion’s face… well, Ace’s heart did a flip in his chest, because what if he was just waiting for the right opportunity?

And, of course, there was the nagging fear that Yuu might be a zombie, too. After all, the way that Yuu and Grim had attached to each other was visibly unhealthy, and had definitely been that way for a long time. If Yuu died, would Grim allow him to stay gone? Or would Grim revive him, force a corpse to continue walking, to keep up a facade?

Yuu was, frankly, too into Grim. Yuu had moments where his eyes were just as soulless as those of the zombies that Ace could never truly forget. There were times when Yuu stopped feeling like a real person, and instead like a parody of himself.

Was it trauma? Paranoia on Ace’s end? Or something more?

(Sometimes he was tempted to try to find out. To slide a knife between Yuu’s ribs, to watch him bleed out, to wait to see whether the wound would seal itself shut again, as if it was never there. Sometimes, the only thing that stopped him was that he knew Grim wouldn’t let him stick around long enough to find out, anyway.)

Regardless, Yuu amusement never failed to make his skin crawl.

Yuu seemed to catch on after a few times, quick to tamp down on any smile or hint of laughter the second he noticed it, biting down on his lip in an attempt to keep his expression under control.

Which only made Ace feel worse. They were humans! They were in a shitty situation, sure, but they should have been allowed to have fun in their downtime, at least!

But, even after the fear would dissipate, his mood would be utterly ruined, because it was stupid to flinch at a smile of all things.

So, he decided to quietly categorize all of the differences between Yuu’s smile and those zombies sported.

Yuu’s mouth was the easiest to notice. When zombies smiled, it was untethered by muscles and skin, which allowed them to pull into wide grins that seemed to barely fit on their faces, that showed off every tooth in their rotting mouths. Yuu’s grin, however, was small and lopsided – it was more of smirk, really, just barely pulling up on the right side. 

Then there was the laugh itself, a short puff of air where a zombie would never bother to stifle the sound. At most, Ace might get a tittering giggle, and Yuu would tip his head back in an attempt to hide it from him.

And, of course, there were the eyes. They weren’t dull and lifeless, nor were they glassy and unseeing. They were light brown in color, they shouldn’t have been interesting, but there was something soothing about watching the old, faint smile lines deepen to full-on crow’s feet.

Ace’s heart still did tiny flips in his chest whenever Yuu smiled, but it was no longer a bad feeling. Frankly, he wanted to see more of it.

Ace hefted a bottle of alcohol he had found in the back of the store. He had never been willing to pop it open, despite his curiosity about the contents, because he had been terrified that someone might get the jump on him while he was… slow and uncoordinated, or whatever else teachers always said to dissuade them from underage drinking.

Well, teachers, he’s alive and you (probably) aren’t, so who’s making the better choices now?!

Yuu, apparently, disagreed, because he simply sighed and said, “I won’t stop you.”

Ace snorted. “Suit yourself.”

He poured himself some of the… he squinted at the old label. Rum. Wasn’t he supposed to have this with Coke or something? Or was that optional?

He shrugged internally and poured himself what he assumed was a healthy amount, lifting the glass into the air. “Kanpai,” he said.

Yuu’s eyes sharpened just slightly, like they did when he found something amusing, but not quite funny enough for an actual smile.

Satisfied, Ace tipped his head back and brought the drink to his lips –.

Only to spit it out almost immediately.

Yuu screeched, diving away to avoid the spray. “Gross!”

“Yeah, it is,” Ace said, wishing he had water to wash it down with. He definitely should have added Coke to this. “Hence why I spat it out.”

Yuu rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a –.”

He cut himself off before he could say it. Ace watched, amused, as Yuu spent the next fifteen seconds trying to think of a word that wasn’t a swear, until he finally took pity on the boy:

“Prove you’re not a pussy, then,” Ace said, pouring another drink.

Yuu huffed, as if to say he wasn’t fooled by the act, before snatching the glass out of his hand. He glared down at the liquid for a second, before taking a deep breath and bringing the drink to his lips.

He knew ahead of time that it wouldn’t be particularly tasty, so there was only a brief moment where Yuu’s eyes widened before he screwed them shut again and concentrated on gulping down the terrible-tasting liquid as fast as he possibly could.

“S-so good,” Yuu said when he was finally done, his voice wrecked.

Ace rolled his eyes and got up to retrieve them both some Coke, so Yuu could wash the taste down and Ace could have another shot.

He handed Yuu his soda, which he gulped down greedily, before pouring himself another drink, this time mixing it with the soda.

It was… better. Not good though.

After Yuu had watched him down the drink, he, with a choreographed kind of reluctance, held out his hand.

Ace felt something fond threaten to curl at his lips. He poured another drink, but hesitated before offering it to him.

He wanted to make Yuu worse. He did. Yuu was visibly Not Doing Well mentally. And Ace was doing better, so it was only fair that he passed on his methods to his new friend.

But he also, kind of, selfishly, wanted him to stay like this, too.

He wetted his lips. The alcohol had, strangely, made him thirstier, though he didn’t quite understand how that could happen.

And then he handed Yuu the glass.

They passed the glass between themselves a few times. Ace lost track of how much either of them had, but it certainly wasn’t a lot, he was pretty sure. There was still plenty of alcohol in the bottle, after all.

But he did feel pleasantly warm. Something in the back of his head buzzed, but he couldn’t muster up enough of a thought process to really mind it.

Yuu gasped as he fumbled the glass, their elixir of the gods (it tasted good, now, but Ace was pretty sure his tastebuds were just too far gone to throw a fit over what he was assaulting them with) spilling all over the tile.

For some reason, this was hilarious.

Yuu tipped forward, giggling, and Ace barely managed to catch him, fingers that felt far too clumsy just barely locking around his face, holding Yuu up.

Yuu didn’t seem to care that he had almost fallen over, still giggling. His eyes half-lidded and his cheeks a ruddy shade of red, his hands holding onto Ace’s forearms because apparently he didn’t trust Ace not to drop him (which was fair, Ace hardly trusted himself with such an important task right now)...

Yuu looked a little bit ridiculous, frankly.

Something warm bubbled in Ace’s chest, and a laugh of his own spilled from between his lips.

This was the first time Yuu had managed to make him laugh. And, sure, the alcohol had certainly made it easier, but who cared about things like logic right now?

Yuu certainly didn’t. His face lit up in a beaming smile. Genuine, rather than simply amusement at someone else’s expense.

He said something, but the words were slurred and Ace’s mind was too fuzzy for him to make sense of it. He nodded along regardless.

Yuu made a humming sound, before slowly rocking back onto the floor, dragging Ace with him by the arms. Ace was on top of him, and Yuu didn’t even seem to care that Ace could kill him like this.

Not that he had any intentions of doing so.

Ace cradled his face, his thumb clumsily swiping along the tiny smile lines by Yuu’s eyes.

Yuu’s arms wrapped around his waist.

Ace stared down at Yuu.

They had both gone very quiet. There wasn’t a single sound to be heard. But Ace wasn’t stupid enough to think that they were actually alone.

He swallowed, thickly. His mouth felt so dry.

He, slowly, laid himself down against Yuu, burrowing his face in the crook of his neck.

(Nonsensically, he thought he should bite Yuu before the zombies could, but he tamped down on the thought as quickly as it had come.)

The arms around his waist tightened, briefly, before going slack as Yuu breathed a sigh.

Ace, however, wasn’t quite as intent on letting go. He hugged Yuu back, his fingers digging into him as much as the fabric of Yuu’s shirt would allow.

Silently, he thought that it was unfair that he had to share Yuu with Grim. Yuu should have been his. He should be with his own kind, should he not? And, really, Grim was the reason why Yuu’s mental health was always on a steady decline.

No, Ace should steal him away.

It was a terrible idea. They’d get hunted down, and Ace would die, and Yuu would be stuck with no one but a monster for company once again. It. Was. A. Terrible. Idea.

But he couldn’t help but smile just slightly as he drifted off to the thought of the two of them hijacking a boat and disappearing to China, as far from this stupid virus as they could get.

Unfortunately for him, though, the feeling went two ways.

Yuu left to go get themselves some new towels, since their old ones had been used to mop up the… completely normal amount of rum they had spilled on the floor the night before.

Ace shivered as the door slid open not even five minutes after Yuu had left. He didn’t dare call out to ask whether Yuu had forgotten something. Yuu would have announced that.

He just… needed to survive long enough for Yuu to get back.

Hell, maybe he should just… go on the ‘shopping trip’ with him! He could lie and claim loneliness! Sure, his ego would take a hit, but at least he would have the time to rebuild it!

He pushed himself up onto shaky feet, creeping towards the back door, carefully turning the knob and pulling it open.

Only to stop dead as he stared into the glassy eyes of a zombie.

He screamed as he was tackled to the floor, as hands locked around his wrists and pinned them against the hard tiles, leaving Ace nothing but his feet. He kicked at everything he could reach, but zombies don’t feel pain and he was dead oh god oh god ohgod –.

Yuu shoved his fist between the zombie’s teeth.

For a second, it looked like it might bite down anyway. That it might just tear through Yuu to get to Ace.

But then the zombie’s eyes went wide.

For a second, it sat there. It only turned its head, just enough to meet Yuu’s gaze. Milky eyes taking in the, for once, serious expression on his friend’s face.

Ace watched as the zombie’s tongue coiled between Yuu’s fingers. Perhaps an attempt to make Yuu pull away so it could eat the ‘meal’ just beside him, perhaps simply tempted by the ‘food’ in its mouth, perhaps in some twisted display of affection. Ace couldn’t tell. Yuu, however, seemed to assume it was the first, because the boy recoiled just slightly, revolted, before pushing further into its mouth.

The zombie’s hands came up to grab Yuu, fingers digging into his shirt, dragging him in close, and Ace suddenly had his answer.

He wished to be unsure again.

Ace could only watch on, horrified, as the corpse pulled Yuu into its lap, bloodstained fingers clumsily patting his head, as if Yuu was the pet in this situation.

He couldn’t even say that Yuu had resigned himself to being treated like this, because there wasn’t even a token protest.

The only hint that Yuu wasn’t perfectly happy was in the way his eyes had started to glaze over. As if his mind was elsewhere.

Ace hoped that, wherever it was, it was nicer than here.

“Hey, Ace,” Yuu said, after a while.

Ace shivered just slightly as the monster’s eyes flicked to him, apparently remembering he was there. But Yuu leaned into it a little more, and the corpse seemed content to let Ace be.

“My hand’s stuck.”

Ace gave him a blank look.

Yuu gave a halfhearted tug on his hand, still trapped firmly in the zombie’s mouth. Cracked lips stretched in a kind of smile, teeth just barely digging in. Not enough to break the skin, but enough that Yuu risked getting infected if he tried to yank it out.

Ace didn’t think it would kill Yuu, the zombies seemed to like him.

But, maybe, it would see biting Yuu as punishment for stepping out of line.

So, Ace fished a crowbar out of his supplies and pried the zombie’s mouth open enough for Yuu to sneak his hand out. The zombie didn’t seem to mind its new broken jaw, so Ace gave it a few extra broken bones before dragging it out into the alley.

He turned back to Yuu, who was staring at his hand, his expression at risk of glazing over once again now that the danger had passed.

Ace, carefully, took Yuu’s hand (the clean one), gripping his hand as tightly as he could. After a few seconds, Yuu returned his hold, tightening his fingers around Ace’s palm in a way that hurt. Not that Ace would ever dream of complaining.

Instead, he motioned vaguely to the zombie blood on the floor. “I think we’re going to need more towels.”

Yuu tipped his head back, giggling. Slowly, in a choreographed way, he brought Ace’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Ace winced just slightly as lips brushed against his skin. Even at this speed, he couldn’t help but think of a zombie’s mouth coming towards him, ready to tear through him. The feeling should have been nice, but instead he felt like he had been doused in cold water.

Yuu, politely, decided not to say anything about this:

“Ace, will you do me the honor of… going to the store with me?”

A helpless kind of smile stole its way across his lips. “I would love to.”

Ace glanced at Grim, huffing a little when he saw slitted eyes narrow at him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not gonna take your man,” Ace deadpanned, the smile tugging at his face much less kind than the one he’d sent Yuu.

Yuu spluttered, his face reddening. “Dude, don’t say it like that.”

Ace’s eyes slid to Yuu, and felt his expression soften just slightly. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

Yuu, of course, couldn’t actually retaliate in any meaningful way, because of how desperately he clung to his… well, Ace wouldn’t call them ‘morals’, not really, but the word was functionally close enough.

“I’ll bite you,” Yuu said, sticking his tongue out at him.

Ace’s eyes widened. “That’s – that’s messed up! I’m so proud!”

Yuu rolled his eyes and started leading him out the door.

Ace glanced back at Grim, trailing behind them, his eyes locked on their interlocked hands.

But, slowly, the zombie’s eyes met his own.

Ace gave Grim the finger, silently hoping that, one day, he would break his promise to Grim and get Yuu away from all of this.

[whumpshaped]

so @oliversrarebooks' series captivated me to no end, and um. a certain. charming man mightve inspired. ..something

tw insecure ass carewhumper possibly turned whumpee??? guys i dont know, dehumanisation, human trafficking

Whumper was walking around in the auction house without much purpose or confidence. If it weren’t for the distinct red glow of their eyes or the shirt that covered up a decent part of their neck, one might’ve mistaken them for livestock, really. People paid little attention to them, and Whumper decided that was just what they wanted: a facade of social life without any of the obligations.

They barely checked on any of the thralls that were going up for sale. Most of them were mindless, anyway. Once they’d seen one, they’d seen them all.

That was, until their eyes landed upon the star of the show. And oh, a star he was.

They wanted to look away. They wanted to continue their aimless wandering, pretending they didn’t even exist, but they were rooted to the spot.

The human was dressed up in the most exquisite ball gown, but the garment didn’t even hold a candle to the wearer. He was far from mindless. His eyes were searching the crowd lazily, like he wasn’t a thing to be sold and bought, like he was the one on the prowl. Whumper almost wanted to go talk to him–

But another vampire beat them to it, stepping up to the human and making what must’ve been pleasant enough conversation, because he wouldn’t stop batting his eyelashes at her. Whumper wondered whether he’d do the exact same to them. Whether it was as practised as it looked. Whether they could earn some honesty, if they were to try their best.

The vampire woman took him by the chin, surveying him like one would a special doll for a special project; was it the right size? The right colour? The right fit for the dollhouse? Then she left like it was nothing, like she wasn’t about to think about him for the rest of the night. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Whumper was the odd one out.

The human said something to his vampire handler, and she gave him an amused smile. Oh, there was something so charming about everything he did, and it made no sense, he wasn’t a vampire, he wasn’t the one doing the charming, he–

Oh. He was looking straight at them now, and they were still staring like an idiot.

The human’s cocky grin widened as he looked them up and down, then tilted his head in a questioning, daring sort of way. Will you be standing there all night? Or will you come up and talk to me?

It was stupid. Why were they the one being nervous? Yet still, despite all that, their legs moved on their own, like he was pulling them on a string. They wanted to talk. They wanted to have him, really.

“I might change my mind about wanting to serve vampires, after all,” he told the woman next to him as they got closer, loud enough for them to hear every word. If their heart had been beating, it might’ve skipped a beat.

“Serve is a strong word,” Whumper muttered, nodding to the woman in greeting and receiving an encouraging smile in return. From this close, they could smell the human’s marvellous blood, yet another tether they weren’t sure they would ever be able to sever.

“Oh?” He caught their gaze, and Whumper suddenly felt like they very much wanted to be looking at something else, anything else. “Do you have a better word in mind, sir?” His voice was silky smooth, giving them all but the illusion of sincere curiosity with a teasing undertone humans weren’t meant to use, not when talking to vampires.

“I… Well, I just meant… There’s no need for such clear-cut dynamics, really,” they stammered out, and the human’s eyes flashed with intrigue.

“Isn’t there?” He was quick to adjust his demeanour, leaving behind every last trace of the faux-sweetness he’d had with the previous vampire, replaced by even more of that playful arrogance that had captivated them in the first place. “I’m but a mere thrall, sir, surely you don’t really mean that.”

“Well, if we tally it all up, I’d be providing the shelter, clothing, all the amenities, and from my understanding, more food to you than you would to me,” they explained quickly.

“And in exchange, I stay obedient and follow your every order, yes?” He paused, waiting for them to say no. Probably wanting them to say no. “That does seem like a rather clear-cut–”

“It doesn’t have to be,” they interrupted suddenly, and the human looked like a cat that got the cream.

“Well,” he said slowly, giving them another once-over. “With all due respect, sir, that sounds like a straight path to spoiling a human rotten.”

You would spoil me rotten, wouldn’t you?

Whumper swallowed, nodding a little. “I suppose it does.”

I would go hungry if you told me you disliked the feeling of fangs in your neck.

He rewarded them with an approving smile, and Whumper let out a breath they didn’t need. “I’m sure your thrall will appreciate all this leniency greatly, sir.”

[codenamesazanka]

I feel like I can’t stress enough how important Spinner is to the ‘My Villain Academia’ arc, and how badly I need BONES to give him the attention and care in portraying him that he deserves. BONES have been pretty faithful to the manga, they’ve followed the story and brought each scene on the page to the screen... Except for some reason not when it comes to the Villains. Maybe it’s because arguably the Villains wasn’t the focal point of the show and they weren’t what most viewers watched the show to see; fine, but that was the case in the beginning and no longer.

Shigaraki Tomura, his exploits, his character, his story *is* the manga: the Heroes and protag react mainly to him and his actions, his past and motivations is one of the main factors that caused the current central conflict, and resolving his character arc is what will probably bring the whole series - to its end or near end. Yeah, imo I argue that everything about him moves the plot along.

Unfortunately(?), I think Horikoshi-sensei realized/decided/planned this a bit too late in his pacing. He said himself during the Stain arc or so that at first, he wasn’t planning on doing villain profiles - he wanted the villains to be scary.

But for the time being, I have no intention of writing about [the villains]. I do the introductions because l personally like those sorts of behind-the-scenes things, and also because I want my readers to feel a connection to the characters. But with villains, I decided I can't have them too likable. They're supposed to be terrifying.

Often it’s what we don’t know/understand/predict/expect (and therefore can’t get a grasp on) that makes things scary/uncomfortable/dislikable. The Villains were strange, seemingly erratic and incomprehensible in their behavior and motivations, malicious without rhyme or reason. Even now, I think a lot of people still think they’re just ‘completely evil crazy psychopaths’.

Anyways, the quote from him is from Volume 7. A whole bunch of volumes later in Vol. 23, he decided nvm: “The story has evolved beyond that point, so I'm ready to start doing villain profiles.” As he said himself, the profiles are to help the readers connect with the characters, make them relatable and likable. That’s what My Villain Academia is all about in the meta sense - to demystify Shigaraki Tomura and his ragtag chaos friends, to give them depth, and to induce interest in their stories, if not sympathy. Hype them up for the rather major roles they play in this ‘final arc’ of the series.

Enter Spinner, the lizard ninja guy.

Besides his unusual looks, Spinner is really, truly nothing special. He’s got a weak quirk, he holds no title of being the strongest or smartest or whatever member of the League, he’s not related by blood or thematically to any major players in the main conflicts, and his ‘tragic’ backstory is completely mundane compared to his allies - he was bullied as a child, and so is fueled by resentment. In the events leading up to the start of the arc, Spinner is the most moral and understandable of the Villains - has a ‘good’ reason for his crimes (eradicate corrupted Heroes), has standards on who he’s willing to fight (questions attacking the police and anyone with a ‘true heroic spirit’), and wants a concrete game plan instead of aimless discord the rest of the League seems alright with.

Once the arc starts, we immediately learn the basics of his character - he’s got a heteromorph quirk that makes his appearance a humanoid gecko and it’s something he was born with that he can’t control, and yet he faces discrimination from literal KKK-type cultists who refuse to see him as human. This was more or less his life in his small, rural hometown, harsh enough that his heart had become ‘completely empty’. It’s simple, it’s relatable and an realistic analogy anyone who has faced prejudice and harassment and been hurt by it can understand.

All this is so Spinner ends up being the most normal and typical sympathetic of the League of Villains, which sets him up to be a sort of ‘gateway Villain’. It’s why he’s narrator. He doesn’t understand at all the crazy All For One shenanigans, he’s thinks Shigaraki is an incompetent weirdo, and he asks what we were all thinking: “Shigaraki Tomura, what the fuck are you doing.” Quite obviously, Spinner’s meant the audience surrogate and so he is. That being a core of the way the story of My Villain Academia is told means it needs be followed by the anime adaption.

This core sets up the rest of the arc - sets up how we will come to view Shigaraki Tomura and his backstory, alongside the rest of the League Villains, their relationships and dynamics with each other, and who they are at heart. Shigaraki’s telling of his distorted origins in Chapter 222 is horrifying as it is already; but it’s Spinner’s worried-facial-expressions reactions littered throughout the chapter that adds to it by telling us one major thing: Spinner’s an empathetic guy, because he immediately feels a kindred spirit with Shigaraki when the latter talks about the hollowness he feels. So begins the audience surrogate’s change of opinion and us readers going along with it, and also: that Shigaraki Tomura now has Spinner’s concern and attention - and is deserving of it.

Pardon the sudden heavily edited quote, but CS Lewis says,

Friendship arises...when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common...which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique [burden]. The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, "What? You too? I thought I was the only one." ...And instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.

That’s almost word for word Spinner in that moment, suddenly realizing he’s no longer as alone as he thought. He’s no longer as alone, and this means perhaps neither should Shigaraki. Because established in that very chapter, too, is the hate in Shigaraki’s heart fueled by his grief and despair, the loss of his family, past, and faith in others, his misery of thinking he’ll never feel good again. Yet - there’s Spinner, willing to extend some empathy and care, the very antidote to all that Shigaraki had revealed. Because the desire for companionship (or at least the lessening of the pain of loneliness) is universal, even among villains - maybe especially among these villains - we probably love to see it. Want to see it.

On that basis - friendship borne out of empathy - Spinner puts his faith his leader, puts his trust and support, and the rest of the arc is us following the tension of whether he was right to do so. Whether Shigaraki would live up to what Spinner expects of him, whether Spinner will side with Shigaraki despite their earlier conflict. Whether they could become friends, or something like that. And once they do, the consequences of this as things spiral more and more out of control, beyond this arc - that Spinner would know Shigaraki well enough to do something crucial at the turn of a battle later, that Spinner would stick by Shigaraki’s side when he’s in danger, that Spinner is loyal enough to Shigaraki to help him as a friend should.

Through Spinner, we come to see Shigaraki, originally incomprehensible and terrifying, as someone beyond a Villain or a leader, but rather someone valued as a person, a friend, a fellow silly gamer nerd. He’s still scary, of course - just less so, with a seed of doubt of his doom that Spinner - and only Spinner, by virtue of his specific narrative and emotional role in this arc - planted in their characters and the story.

It’s because of Spinner that MVA works, by itself, and as a stepping stone towards the rest of the series. So he really needs to be everything he is, was, and more in the anime adaption please BONES oh my god please

[ayanna-wild]

He's The Devil You Know?

Word Count: 1326

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader, Platonic John Constantine x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, John and Lucifer just should not be in the same room together

A/N: Request from wattpad, Lucifer and Constantine crossover. Tag List and Requests are open

Summary: You were fond of your new life, loved the people you'd met and the man who stole your heart. Unfortunately an old and dear friend rolls into town, and he doesn't exactly approve of your relationship with the devilish club owner.

..................................................................................

It'd started as a regular night, you hung towards the back of the club, watching the people enjoy themselves and let loose the stress from their week. You'd be drinking yourself, but you had just gotten done singing and preferred the soothing taste of water then the burn of alcohol at the moment.

"That was quite a show you put on love, haven't heard you sing like that in years."

You almost didn't believe the voice you were hearing, mostly for the fact you hadn't heard it in years, at least not in person. However, when you turned around there he stood, trench coat and all. Your smile lit up your eyes, and you pulled him in for a hug.

"Constantine, you relentless bastard, it's good to know you're not pushing up daisies."

He chuckled hugging you back before you took a step back, holding him at arms length to look him over.

"You look good."

"Likewise love, seems you're doing well for yourself here."

You smiled a bit, shrugging as you motioned for a bartender to bring him a drink.

"I'm happy if that's what you're getting at."

"No chance you'll be coming back home then? Could always use a hand with some jobs."

You shook your head, thanking the hostess who handed John his drink.

"This is my home now, besides my boyfriend wouldn't be to keen on me putting myself in mystical situations where the chance of me dying is higher than the chance of me living."

John raised his eyebrows as he took a drink.

"Boyfriend eh? And will I be getting a chance to meet this mystery man who's got you so smitten?"

You looked around the club, trying to see if you could spot him through the crowd of people.

"He's around here somewhere." 

John hummed a little, glancing around the club himself, but you noticed his was a more calculating look.

"You seem on edge John, something I should know?"

He turned his attention back to you, frowning a bit.

"Have you considered a different job? Maybe something far away from this hellish place?" 

You furrowed your eyebrows at his choice in words, going to ask what he meant by that, but another voice silenced you before you could get a word out.

"Y/N darling! You'll never believe this delicious concoction the bartender just made it's marvelous!"

You smiled brightly as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding the strangely colored drink up.

"I'm considering adding it to the menu, it's truly wonderful, would you care for a sip?"

"Maybe later, I'm actually talking to an old friend right now." You motioned to John and Lucifer finally seemed to notice him.

Although neither of their reactions were anything you expected. John looked pale as a ghost, while Lucifer was grinning devilishly.

"Well, well, if it isn't John Constantine, and in my club no less, this certainly is a surprise."

You glanced between the two of them confused.

"You know each other?"

"Oh yes, Johnny boy and I go way back, isn't that right John?"

John stammered a moment, before straightening his back and giving Lucifer a cold look.

"Unfortunately, and I never should have helped you, or that demon." John snapped.

"Oh come now, I helped you in return, we're even now are we not? No need for such hostility, certainly not in front of my darling songbird here." Lucifer scolded, but his smile remained firmly planted on his lips.

John cast you a worried glance and his hand twitched to pull you away from the devil beside you.

"It's not safe to be around him love, you don't know what he really is."

You couldn't help but tilt your head a little, frowning a bit.

"Of course I do."

That provoked a very shocked reaction from John and a rather amused chuckle from Lucifer.

"I... I'm not sure you do love, or you wouldn't be standing so close to him."

You placed a hand on Lucifer's chest as he pulled you closer to him.

"John, this is the boyfriend I was telling you about, I'd introduce the two of you, but that doesn't seem necessary."

John's face went blank, and you uttered his name a few times concerned. Lucifer laughed snapping his fingers in front of John's face.

"Oh dear, I think we broke him darling."

John slapped Lucifer'a hand away scowling at him while the devil simply laughed.

"You're not really dating this lunatic are you?" John finally spoke.

Lucifer scoffed at the insult, but John paid him no mind, focusing solely on you.

"He's the devil you know, king of hell, prince of darkness, Satan?"

"Yes John, I know." You sighed.

"Then what the bloody hell are you thinking!?"

Lucifer frowned at John's shout, and took a step forward but your hand on his chest halted any further movements.

"I'm thinking I've been with this man for the last two years, and you're not about to come here and suddenly convince me he's evil."

"He's the actual devil."

"I believe that's been established, are you having trouble remembering things Johnny? Aging can be so taxing on one's mind. Not that I'd know mind you." Lucifer smirked.

You lightly hit Lucifer's chest, giving him a pointed look as you pulled away.

"Well this has been a really fun conversation..." Your voice dripped sarcasm.

"But now I need a drink now, so play nice while I'm gone boys."

You walked away, and they waited until you were out of sight before rounding on each other. Lucifer handed his now empty glass off to a hostess walking by.

"What's your game here? After her soul?"

Lucifer laughed, placing his hands in his pockets.

"You know I care very little about human souls John, and while I'm sure you'd like to think this is some sort of game, I assure you that's not the case. But what about you? How do you know her so very well it seems?"

Lucifer's smile was full of amusement and John took a weary step back.

"She's like a sister to me, I've known her for years, and I'm not about to let you hurt her."

That struck a nerve with the vacationing king of hell and his amused smile vanished.

"I've no intention of hurting her you blubbering buffoon! But this aimless bickering will, so I suggest you accept the fact that she's an adult capable of making her own decisions and enjoy the rest of your time with her."

Lucifer smiled at you, waving as you began to walk back over. John narrowed his eyes looking over at Lucifer.

"That almost sounded like a threat there mate."

Lucifer kept smiling at you, but his next words were cold.

"Oh but it was. If you do anything to upset her tonight, to take away that smile I try so hard to keep on her delectable lips..."

He turned to John when you looked away from him, his smile gone as he grabbed the exorcist's coat.

"I'll reconsider my opinion on killing humans and take an especially keen interest in your soul, do we understand each other?"

John wordlessly nodded, his face pale with fear as Lucifer's eyes flashed red. Lucifer released him just as you reached them, you handed your devilish lover a drink as you looked between the two of them.

"Everything okay?"

Lucifer wrapped his arm around your waist glancing towards John from the corner of his eye.

"I think we've come to an understanding, isn't that right Johnny?"

John cleared his throat, smoothing out his coat.

"No problem here love, excuse me a tick will you, I think I need something a bit stronger." He flashed you a grin before turning on his heel.

You watched your friend hurry towards the bar, and you leaned into Lucifer's side.

"You threatened him, didn't you?"

Lucifer gave you a charming smile as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass.

"Just a bit."

..................................................................................

Tag List:

@sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[sergeantsporks]

Friendly Conversation

Rating: Gen, General Audiences

Hunter meets Vee's friends. Turns out you're NOT supposed to remember everything people say? Wild.

Part 4 of Camila is Hunter’s Mom Now

Ao3

Hunter let himself get tugged along by Vee, his palisman perched on his other shoulder. He dug his heels in as he started to recognize the path they were taking. “Aren’t we getting a little close to the museum? What about Jacob?”

“Oh, he won’t bother us. He’s terrified of you.” Vee seemed to stop and think for a moment. “Come to think about it, he might be scared of me, now, too.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not. Besides, it’s the closest green space to the house, so that’s where we agreed we’d meet up! They’ve been dying to meet you ever since I showed them pictures—”

Wait. What. “You have pictures of me?!”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sometimes I snap candid shots when you’re not looking. They think your ears are neat, by the way.”

Hunter reached up under his hood to cover his ears, disturbing his palisman from its perch. “They know about my ears?! Are you trying to get us discovered?!” Red warbled chidingly at Vee, then settled on Hunter’s raised arm, its claws digging into the fabric of his hoodie.

Vee rubbed her arms. “Look, I… I know secret is safe. And it’s not like I’m planning on transforming in front of them or anything. But you… you can’t just change your appearance to fit in like I can. Luckily, you’re pretty much human, except for the ears. And we can just call those a birth defect. You can’t go around wearing hoods for the rest of your life.”

“Why not?” He had up until now—in the coven and out.

“Because it makes you look… suspicious? You should probably start practicing explaining your ears if you’re planning to stay in the human realm. Besides, if you want to stay inconspicuous, you prooooobably shouldn’t walk around with a live bird on your shoulder.”

Hunter scooped up his palisman, cupping the cardinal in his hands protectively. “Red stays.” His palisman gave him an affectionate peck on the thumb, chirping an agreement.

“Okay. Just… have a good explanation for it.”

“I do. It’s a service animal.” Red chirped an agreement and fluttered up to land on his head.

Vee wrinkled her nose. “A service animal, huh? Alright.” She waved to a group of teens hanging around the statue that Hunter just could not get over how much it looked like Belos. “Hey, guys! This is my brother, Hunter!”

A shiver ran down Hunter’s spine. He still wasn’t used to being called Vee’s brother. Or getting called “Noceda,” it was all so weird. But a good weird.

Vee’s friends all bobbed their heads in acknowledgement.

“Hey, Hunter. I’m Janea,” the redhead grinned, “Nice bird.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, whoa, hey!” The one in all black peered at his face, and he shuffled back. She knew—he didn’t know how, but she knew. “You have a gap tooth like me!” she said finally, “Gap-tooth buddies! My name’s Anissa, by the way, and that’s Steven.”

The guy nodded. “Sup.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” Anissa commented, “You’re not from around here, right?”

Hunter nodded. Perfect chance to practice his backstory. “Traveled a lot, until Ms. Noceda took me in.”

“Ooooo, mysterious backstory, I like it! Love your ears, by the way, are those natural?”

Hunter reached up under his hood, putting his hands over his ears. “Yeah.”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” Janea piped up, “They’re cool!”

Hunter slowly lowered his hands. They really didn’t seem suspicious at all. Humans were… a lot dumber than he’d thought they’d be. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” Anissa chimed in, “I wish my ears looked like that—I have to settle for fake ones, though.”

The conversation moved on to aimless chatter about where to get fake… elf… ears? Hunter felt himself get pulled along in without really registering what was being said. It was a sort of… friendly noise? He nodded along, then forgot what they’d been talking about a few minutes ago after the topic of conversation had moved on.

That was a bit concerning. He had a memory like a steel trap—so what was going on?

“I have to go,” he piped up suddenly, “I have… things to do.”

“What, more algebra?” Vee teased.

“Ew!” Anissa yelped.

Hunter wrinkled his nose at Vee. “Yes, in fact. More algebra. It was… nice. To meet all of you. But I should go now.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Janea called, “See you in school?”

He waved, wandering back to the house. “Luz!”

Luz poked her head down the stairs. “What?”

“What do you know about interdimensional travel and its effects on the witch brain?!”

“…What?”

“I can’t—I’m not remembering everything!”

Luz traipsed down the stairs. “So? I don’t remember everything. I forget a lot of things, actually. What was your name, again?”

He grabbed her shoulders. “Quit messing around. This is serious. I don’t forget things!”

“I’m sure you’ve forgotten things before. I mean… what did you have for breakfast three months ago to the day?”

“Nothing, I didn’t eat breakfast regularly three months ago, but that’s beside the point, the point is, I forget maybe some stuff, but I couldn’t remember what we were talking about five minutes ago, what if it was important—”

Luz wriggled out of his grasp and put her hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back and down. “Hunter. Breathe. I don’t remember every conversation I’ve had with Willow or Gus. I remember the important stuff, but I don’t remember every single thing we ever talked about.”

Was she crazy? How had she kept friends this long? “But you should, right? I mean, if they’re important to you, you should remember everything they say, right? What if you suddenly need to know something they mentioned in a conversation five weeks ago, and you can’t remember it? What if they said something, and it seemed trivial, but it had a deeper meaning, and they want you to figure it out, but you can’t because you can’t remember what they said?”

Luz gave him a look that was bordering on concern. “Then I ask them—uh-oh, we’re unlocking a new trauma today, aren’t we? Okay. Hunter. You don’t have to remember everything everyone says. Your head will literally explode. No one expects you to, and especially not in friendly conversation. You’re supposed to forget half of what everyone says. If it’s important, you’ll remember it. Promise.”

Hunter’s head was swimming just thinking about it, thinking in circles. “But how will I know if it’s important?!”

Luz shrugged. “If you remember it, it was important. If you don’t remember it, it probably wasn’t.” The color drained from her face. “Wait. Have you been remembering every single conversation we’ve had here?”

Hunter tilted his head. “A couple days ago, you said that Amity has most of the portal ingredients, and she can probably make a portal back in the isles. You also said there was a monster behind me.”

“You weren’t even paying attention to me! You were solving algebraic formulas! How did you—beside the point. I want you to forget about the monster part.”

“What?”

“Forget about the monster part. It wasn’t important. The info you needed from that conversation is that Amity might be able to build a portal. You don’t need to remember that I said there was a monster behind you.”

What was this supposed to do? Hunter eyed Luz. Why did she want him to forget about the monster part? So she could do it again?

Luz caught the look. “I’m trying to help you figure out how to tell what’s important to remember and what isn’t. Amity can probably build portal—important! Luz said there was a monster behind you to get your attention—not important. Got it?”

“Mmmmkay.”

“Don’t worry about not remembering everything said. Seriously. Don’t. You’ll drive yourself crazy—if you aren’t already.”

Hunter stuck his tongue out. “I’m going to remember you said that.”

“Good, you should remember not to remember everything people say.”

Hunter crossed his arms with a grin. “No, I meant that you called me crazy.”

Luz groaned. “Hunter! That wasn’t the important part!”

[pips-fics]

ask: can i request minho getting sick, making him super clingy to jeongin and needy to any members

for almost three years, jeongin has had a human shadow almost constantly.  it’s shape was inconsistent, but most often took the form of seungmin or hyunjin.  he’d like to say that he’d grown used to having various members trail him around, and sometimes it was the truth, but other times… it was just suffocating.

the fact that minho had been following him since he’d twisted his ankle earlier in the day didn’t sit well.  jeongin was an adult, and had been for quite some time; not to mention, he wasn’t that much younger than the others to begin with.  knowing their concern always stemmed from love wasn’t a fully effective salve to his stung pride.

“hyung, just sit there–“ jeongin pointed to the empty space, “this couch is big enough for both of us, you don’t need to sit on top of me,” jeongin complained.  he wasn’t lying.  the couch was probably big enough for three or even four people, but minho insisted on sprawling over jeongin’s chest even though they were the only two occupying it at the moment.  jeongin wriggled around, hoping minho would get off of his own volition before jeongin had to forcibly remove him.

“don’t wanna,” minho protested smugly, “you’re much more comfortable.”

jeongin tried to be understanding.  he tried to be accommodating, sympathetic to the genuine concern.  he liked to think that he was relatively indulgent with his members, who he loved— but sometimes, it really did get to be too much.  jeongin did what he could to rein his temper back in and find his patience, but he needed some space.

with a gentle shove (but a shove nonetheless), he pushed minho off of him and onto the empty part of the couch.  jeongin stood up.

“i’ll see you in a bit to record some of the chorus parts.  go find jisung or felix, hyung, they won’t mind cuddling.”

minho whined, sniffling.  “how cruel, yang jeongin!  i’m sick and you won’t even let me cuddle you.”

ah, that would explain minho’s sudden clinginess.  jeongin flinched away.  “you might be contagious, hyung, i don’t wanna get sick, too.  drink some water or something - chan-hyung probably has medicine you could take.”  jeongin looked at minho a little more closely, but other than a sniffle and a slight rasp to his voice, he didn’t seem to be doing too poorly.  “you’ll feel better soon,” he said, and then he left.

he felt a little bad, walking to the cafe on his own, but mostly he felt relieved.  the ambient noise, which didn’t require any sort of response from jeongin, was comforting.  after ordering a drink, he dropped into a chair, and was grateful for the hard plastic against his back.  it was grounding, a cool contrast to the stifling warmth of another human’s touch.

jeongin was savoring it all when, not more than 5 minutes after he’d sat down with his drink, warm arms wrapped around his chest, quickly followed by a weight on his shoulders.  he nearly choked on the urge to groan - and his drink - and elbowed the offender in the gut on instinct before spinning around.

minho was doubled over, wincing.  jeongin’s eyes widened - he certainly hadn’t meant to hurt him!  he hadn’t thought he’d used enough force for that.

“hyung, are you— i didn’t mean to,” jeongin’s mouth was moving too quick for his brain.  he’d stood up and now hovered at minho’s side, unsure how to help.  minho waved him off.

“i’m–” he coughed.  “i’m fine.  just wasn’t expecting it.  i shouldn’t have,” minho took a labored breath, “shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

minho looked very distinctly not fine - but jeongin of all people wasn’t about to call him out on it.  after all, he knew best how double-edged that kind of concern could be.  jeongin nodded.

“still,” he said.  “i am sorry.”

at that, minho cracked a grin.  it looked kind of like a grimace, but jeongin figured that was more an effect of the lingering pain than intent.  “no, no, you were right,” minho said, and there was something in his voice that jeongin didn’t like.  “i’ll go find someone else to bother.”

jeongin frowned.  it was what he’d wanted, after all.  but something didn’t sit quite right.  the sincerity - it was rare for minho to sound so honest, especially about the vulnerable pieces of himself.  especially about things like shame, and regret, and hurt.

then again, if minho was going to find another member, it would be fine.  jeongin was fairly confident that most of the others were just as capable at handling whatever mood minho was in - and most of them were probably more suited to that task, even.  he spared a thought to hope that minho would find chan and let the matter slip from his mind.

it wasn’t until they were setting up to record the chorus parts of the title track that jeongin really thought about minho and his weirdness again.  it wasn’t minho’s presence that reminded him, but his absence.  chan was already looking for him by the time jeongin showed up.

“the last time i saw him was a few hours ago,” jeongin said.  “at the cafe.”

chan checked the clock, and even though they had five full minutes before they were scheduled, his frowned deepened.  “he’s usually the first one here, after me.”

that was true.  jeongin looked around and saw that all of the other members were already present, and something like guilt sank heavy in his gut.  “has anyone else seen him?”

chan grimaced.  “felix did, but it’s been some time since then.  he said minho was acting a little strange, but that’s kind of…”  chan trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for jeongin to hear it.  that’s kind of normal.

the truth was, of all the members, minho was still a bit of a mystery.  they’d all grown up together, so of course they knew bits and pieces of him inside and out, but the rest of the members wore their heart and soul flayed open at all times.  jeongin could probably describe felix’s character better than felix himself could.  even seungmin, who had seemed on the reserved side for the first few months, had grown into regular displays of openness.

minho was different.  he guarded his heart like one would a fugitive on the run - by pretending it didn’t exist.

“i’ll go look for him, hyung, don’t worry!”  jeongin said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he was promising.  and yet, he didn’t care to take them back.  chan blinked, hesitated, and jeongin knew it was that troublesome, unwarranted concern again.  it struck him that, in a list of members with their shutters closed, jeongin himself probably ranked second.  he softened slightly.  “i’ll have my phone with me,” he said.  “if you want me back, just call me.”

with a wry smile, chan nodded.  “send me a text if it takes more than 15 minutes?”

jeongin nodded, and and then he was off.

it was an aimless search.  he really had no idea where minho was - he hoped he was in the building, at least, but for all anyone knew minho could have gone back to the dorm, or literally anywhere else.  he really was an enigma.

jeongin’s phone rang and he checked the time.  it had only been 10 minutes.  his heart lept at the thought of good news, that maybe he was overly worried for nothing.  “did you find him?”  jeongin asked immediately.  chan sighed.

“no, but he texted and said he’s fine.”  chan went quiet.  jeongin chewed his lip.

“do you think he is?”  jeongin asked.  he already knew the answer.  he could picture chan’s frown - the one where he was worried, but trying to be reassuring to anyone who looked.

“i guess we just have to trust him.”

trust.  the word lodged itself and rattled around in jeongin’s mind even after he hung up and started making his way - slowly - back to the rest of his members.

as closed off as minho was, jeongin trusted him.  all of them did, he knew.  jeongin trusted all of his members, completely, but minho especially.  for all of his guarded emotions, minho would never allow harm to come to those he cared about, and everyone knew it - except maybe minho himself, who didn’t like to acknowledge that he cared at all in the first place.

the thought that minho didn’t trust them back made jeongin feel clammy.  it drove him to take the longest way back he could think of, and it made him backtrack immediately when he heard the quietest gasp coming from the direction of the bathrooms.

he found minho in an open stall, seated firmly on the ground, his upper body wilted over the toilet seat.  vomit stained the corners of his mouth.  tears ran down his cheeks.  he didn’t notice jeongin immediately, which gave the younger boy a much appreciated moment to steady himself, to acknowledge and accept and acclimate to the sharp ache the gripped his heart.

“oh, hyung, you’re really sick.”  the words came out like tears, seeping.  minho startled, and scrambled to the side of the stall that was furthest from jeongin.

“jeongin.”  fear flashed across minho’s face, like jeongin hadn’t seen on his face outside of their survival show and experiencing high altitudes.  jeongin stepped back, hating to be the cause of it, when minho spoke again, sounding choked.  “you were right, it might be contagious.  you should go.”

jeongin shook his head so hard it hurt.  “no, i didn’t mean– hyung, here, let me help.  please.”  he approached slowly, wrapping his arms around minho’s shaking back.  minho sucked in a breath, and then released it, relaxing into jeongin’s embrace.  then he tensed up and lurched over the toilet with an unproductive heave.  jeongin shifted to rub the sick boy’s back.

minho groaned.  “you should leave,” he said.  “i’m gross right now.”

“no,” jeongin said, as gently, as firmly as possible, addressing both statements at once.  “i’ll stay, hyung.”

minho didn’t have a chance to protest before he was being sick.  he was shaking so badly that jeongin worried he’d slip to the ground if he stopped supporting him.  he brushed a hand through minho’s hair.

“it’s okay,” jeongin said, and he wasn’t really sure why.

minho gasped and another stream of puke splashed into the dirtied water below him, unrelenting.  his whole body was tense below jeongin’s hands, so much so that it made jeongin’s own muscles ache.  suddenly, in the dim lighting of the bathroom, face covered in barf, minho looked very small, and fragile.  like he might shake himself apart.  jeongin’s grip on his shoulder tightened as another heave wracked minho’s body.

jeongin’s phone ringing startled both of them.  minho looked up during a brief reprieve.  “you can answer it,” he said, his words torn apart and raw.  jeongin shook his head.

“it’s just chan-hyung.  i’ll text him.”

minho didn’t respond to that, jaw clenched very tightly shut.  jeongin gave him a stern look.  “you should let it out, hyung, you’ll feel better sooner that way.  then we can go home.”

it was unclear whether minho took the advice to heart, or if his body simply overcame his willpower - both options seemed unlikely - but soon he was throwing up once again.  he didn’t have a breather for so long that jeongin started worrying at the choked sounds.  he was about to send a text asking chan if someone could drown this way when it finally tapered off to dry heaves and small dribbles of bile.

minho looked like a soft breeze could break him.

his eyes were sinking shut and his skin was washed out.  he’d given up holding himself up and slumped heavily onto jeongin.  jeongin wiped sweat and sick from his face with toilet paper, and then flushed the mess away.

“are you done?”  jeongin asked quietly, with half a mind to just let minho sleep.  the sick boy nodded.  jeongin hummed.  “we should go home.”

minho nodded, but didn’t move.  “c’mon, hyung, it’ll be better for you to sleep in a bed.”

jeongin started to stand, but minho grabbed his sleeve with a strength jeongin wouldn’t have expected him to have at this point.  “hyung?”

“don’t leave.”  minho’s voice was so, so small.  jeongin smiled.

“i won’t.  we’ll go together, okay?”

sure enough, minho refused to let go of jeongin’s arm as they walked.  chan had texted that they’d cancelled recording for the day, so the other members were waiting in the car already.  even as the rest of them fussed over minho, jeongin stuck close.  his arm was finally freed when minho fell asleep upon returning to the dorm, but jeongin stayed nearby anyway, even when the other members tried convincing him that minho would be fine if he left.

that was the thing: minho would be fine.  jeongin knew that minho was strong.  they all did.  but something protective had started growing in him since he first saw minho in the bathroom - before that, maybe, too.  something protective and urgent, a need that had to be fulfilled.

jeongin trusted minho fully.  he needed to know that minho trusted him, too, and he thought this was as good way to start working towards that.

——

feel free to send more asks! | rules

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Yet the Light Refused To Die

Whispers from the intersection between worlds are a strange thing. They are soft and enticing, yet alien, and quick to breed fear.

The fear of death.

The sun that mankind praises casts a long shadow. Most look to the bright light and the vibrant colors that it illuminates. And they turn their backs on the shadow, fearful of that which they cannot see. Like the air of a graveyard, and the dust that collects in abandoned places, such whispers are not death itself, but its quiet heralds.

Shouting and even thinking loudly works well enough to drown them out. To deny that creeping reminder of the inexorable cycle of life and death, the final destination of every mortal's road. The madness of life is filled with distractions, of fleeting moments that occupy human thought. As such, only rare individuals can hear whispers from beyond the grave. Among them, even fewer pause… and listen.

When most do hear the whispers, they question their sanity or close off their minds. Not so, a young girl aged merely fifteen winters. Magdalene heard those whispers and has always listened. Understood.

And sometimes, she even answered.

Connected to the essence of dust and shadow itself, death spoke only in those sibilant sighs.

Magdalene feared not death. Many she had known now gone, taken by age, disease, war, famine, and murder. From a young age on, the specters of death always haunted her.

So much so, that she never really questioned the strange or inexplicable. She never struggled to accept things that others would deny, even when only the implausible remained the alternative.

Where one might think they had displaced a trinket in an empty room that no other living soul had entered since, the girl already knew at a delicate age that something else had moved the trinket.

One year prior to the dire straits she now found herself in, a young man had threatened her life. With little understanding of such ephemeral forces as sorcery, she called upon the power of disembodied spirits that refused to move on. To help kill that man before he could kill her.

Not because she feared for her life. No, she had summoned those ghosts because she had feared that he would escape justice; the just desserts he should have faced for slaying so many before her. More importantly, because she felt guilty; she felt like his killings were her responsibility, as his obsession with her had led him to commit such atrocities.

As a wee girl, she had always found it confusing when others could not see those figures at which cats hissed, or hear their whispers where wind swept through cold and forgotten places. Sometimes, she would awaken, with blood lining her fingernails, and a shadow standing in the corner of her room, watching and looming.

Not all of them were evil. Not in the way most people meant it when they used that loaded word.

More than once, driven by a desire to punish the wicked and deserving, she had called upon the spirits of the lost. They always answered. As if they recognized and served anyone who could sense their presence—and pay them the proper amount of attention.

Undeterred by those chilling gasps that lingered like memories of lives lost, she would sometimes speak with them when not in the company of the living; when removed from the company of those who would question her sanity, if only they saw her speaking to empty corners and cold spots where common eyes could only perceive that dust and shadow.

She would ask them what they remembered.

Not all of them retained their memory. For some of them, the shreds of who they once were just made no sense; perhaps as misremembered identities bled into one another, leading to eternal confusion and endless, aimless wandering between the worlds.

Some of them got angry and blew out candles or slammed doors shut. One even cracked every mirror and window of a room after becoming enraged. Others bore dark obsession in their whispers, attempting to sway her with deception, hoping to merge with her and do unbelievable things if only they had a body once again.

Beyond death, they all shared one thing in common. All of them feared what lies beyond the thin veil between worlds. Though none of them ever answered:

Why?

Yes. Why, asked the necromancers of yore, were they so afraid of moving on?

A mystery that never concerned Magdalene. When it was finally her time to go there, she would find out herself. Exposure to death had inured her to the fears that it brought. She welcomed it, just like she did her best to warmly embrace the cold presence of the disembodied dead.

What curdled her blood now was something else entirely. A debilitating helplessness, spawned by her current predicament, and a crippling fear of failure.

More than that, though, Magdalene feared the absence of the whispers.

For the first time since she had noticed their presence, they were gone. Leaving only a deafening silence in their wake.

Rope chafed against her tied wrists, resting on the clothed tabletop in front of her. Her captors had made a mockery of setting the dinner table, haphazardly tossing cutlery and empty plates in front of them before going off to ransack Bennet mansion.

Her captors must have worked some sort of sorcery that she could no longer sense any phantoms. And likely, she feared, the things that dwelt in the intersection between worlds no longer heard her, either. Where her role model wielded sword and pistol to hunt and combat the evils of this world, Magdalene's communion with the spirits were her blade and bullet.

And as her frail body was weak, that absence rendered her more helpless and meeker than ever before.

Jenny Fisher's nostrils flared with a shuddering sigh. Her fellow captive—a thief and swindler, a grown woman she had met only this very day—sat to her left. Bound as she, mouth also crudely gagged with silk napkins from Lord Bennet's belongings.

Their eyes met.

Jenny's eyes glistened, wet and red, yet she had not succumbed to tears. Fear gripped her, perhaps, fears of fates worse than death, perhaps. A quiet despair, maybe. But no tears.

Their captors had left them alone. Not like there was much of anything they could do to get away with bound wrists and ankles and gagged thus.

The question of the absence occupied Magdalene most. A mystery that she wanted to solve. And its solution may yet prove key to their escape from this awful predicament. She would not leave Jenny Fisher alone or to any dread fate that may await her in the clutches of these scoundrels.

The whispers had told her that Jenny was important. The phantoms sometimes knew things that humans did not. Saw futures that had yet to unfold. Understanding why was never that interesting to Magdalene. Much more tantalizing was the lacking explanations as to why Jenny had a significant role to play in their conjoined fates. The spirits often would not—or could not—provide any conclusive answers.

Jenny's eyes now darted to and fro, the swindler's mind likely hatching one fruitless escape plan after another. Magdalene, on the other hand, harbored no hopes of escape. Not until she solved this mystery.

Boots thumped upstairs. The rogues searched, conversed, sometimes argued; always muffled through layers of carpet and floors and wallpaper and walls. Claws scraped against hardwood in Bennet's halls. Inhuman growls resounded from where those claws scratched and tore fabric, eerily twisting handles and opening doors with an intelligence that exceeded that of mere beasts.

Just like Magdalene conversed with spirits, the leader of these robbers consorted with unclean creatures. Fentin McLachlan, he had named himself. A name that sent chills running down Magdalene's spine, even just thinking about it.

Could he be her missing uncle? The one her mother had shied from ever speaking about after father's demise?

Did calling otherworldly powers simply run in their family's blood? More than anything, the prospect of damnation frightened Magdalene. She suspected dark things to be awaiting her at the end of her road, a balance for her meddling with these forces. And what might await one as this Fentin McLachlan, who summoned these awful creatures that manifested in flesh and blood, with bat wings and claws, and too many eyes, and slavering maws?

She had read of them in the book in Nora's cabin. Eerie sketches inked upon yellowed pages and documented in the occult writings of the Bestiarium Nox. As far as the long-dead authors were concerned, these things all shared a simple name.

Demons.

Jenny's breath shortened and she trained her eyes on the entrance to the opulent dining hall, past the chaos and disarray that the robbers had left in their hasty search.

Maggie followed her gaze. The thundering and thumping of boots neared. The men dragged something. Something that thudded against another something, cascading into something else—something ceramic, perhaps—shattering upon impact.

The three men entered. Two of them dragged the body of Lord Bennet. Blood stained the late lord's face, having flown from now emptied eye sockets. His corpse flopped against the end of the dinner table where they tossed him, breaking a wine glass under a lifeless arm smashing down.

Magdalene winced. The shrill sound of shattering rang almost as painfully as their blatant disregard for the dead.

Fentin grinned triumphantly, displaying a set of eerily white and perfect teeth. His eyes glinted with a fierce and cold air. Like staring into a shark's eyes.

He sauntered past the bound women, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand, and a large wheel of cheese in the other. The buckled boots on his feet, baggy pants, and dirty shirts underneath his wet long coat, altogether lent him the air of a pirate. A strange sight, so far inland, and so close to King Michael III's castle.

The other two men dressed in similar attires. A cutlass clattered on the table as one of them took a seat across from Magdalene, leering at her and Jenny until he cocked his head back, and chugged several greedy gulps from a bottle of hard liquor.

The third man slammed down a stack of old tomes, causing some of the nearby plates to bounce under the impact. The top books slid from the stack, fanning out. They all looked old and the leatherbound cover on one of them featured strange symbols.

Magick symbols.

Blood from Bennet's gouged eye sockets and other lacerations upon his person slowly seeped into the tablecloth. A deep crimson blot grew at a snail's pace, creeping down the length of the table as the dead lord's lifeblood drenched it.

When Magdalene met gazes with Jenny again, she read a mixture of despair and defiance in the woman's eyes. Her nostrils flared again, with a snort of frustration. And fury.

The pirate captain poured himself a glass of wine. Then he carved some cheese from the wheel, using a vicious-looking knife from his belt. Boots thumped again, glass clinked—he swung his feet up onto the table as he slouched into what was likely once Lord Bennet's chair, holding the wine glass in one hand, and a hunk of cheese in the other.

He sampled the creamy treat and shot Magdalene a smirk as he chewed, studying the faces of their two living captives, sloshing the wine around in his glass before taking a thirsty swig.

One of the other men guffawed, grabbing their attention.

"We keepin' them alive for some pleasure before the business?" the guffawing man asked. He sounded different from the leader. Like he had grown up in the city of Crimsonport.

"Keep it in yer pants," replied the captain in his thick northern accent. "These ladies are a little bit too interestin' to give them the usual rough treatment. Besides, Mister Witts. I don't like to damage the product, especially not when they can earn us some good coin overseas. Ya don't think very far do ya? S'that why they used ta call ya Witless Witts?"

Magdalene almost expected a retort. Even an angry glare. But "Witless" Mister Witts' face contorted to reflect the mien of a beaten dog.

The chair creaked underneath the pirate captain's weight as he shifted. He pointed the cheese in his hand at Maggie and said, "This one especially. You're a very interesting little lady, aren't ya?"

Magdalene offered no response. She just met his gaze. Studied his features. Every gesture carried an air of constant calculation. Everything he said aimed to provoke reactions, allowing him to probe the depths of the people in front of him.

And not a single trace of mercy or goodness lurked behind the mask of his eerily familiar visage. This she sensed.

He washed down the cheese with another sip of wine, then growled, "Remove their gags, Mister Hoskins. It's time for the ladies to talk."

The third pirate, Hoskins, had never sat down. He had been hovering behind Jenny and Magdalene, leaning against a cupboard in wait. First, he removed the cloth from Maggie's mouth, then from Jenny. Maggie made no sound, nor did she put up any fight. She simply welcomed the cool air upon her gums.

Jenny also displayed no resistance, but she rolled her jaw to stave off the ache of having the napkin stuffed in there for so long.

"Please, sir," Jenny immediately rattled away. "I'm sure we can work something out. I'm sure we��"

She stopped. The shark-eyed captain shushed her, tapping his lips with a finger.

"I'll admit," he said. "I didn't deem you very interesting at first, but you are a bit of an enigma, Miss—"

"Lady Amelia Hanbury," Jenny Fisher lied, correcting him. She spoke with such confidence and authority that Magdalene intuited how long she had been using this identity as a mask in front of Lord Bennet.

He asked her, "You don't really know what Bennet was up to, eh?"

This must have caught her off-guard. The fast-talking thief remained silent.

In lieu of any answer, the pirate captain's mouth twitched. His lips curled into a devious smile, and he pointed to the stack of books that Hoskins had dumped onto the table.

"Member of a little occult society that calls 'emselves the 'God's Hand'. Bunch o' mystics and mountebanks that dabble in the secret arts, practicing in the shadow of the aristocracy wherever the inquisition can't cast their prying gaze."

Nobody interrupted him when he paused, savoring his ruminations as much as the expensive import wine lingering on his tongue.

"Mighty close to the king's castle, don't ya think?"

He chuckled and sniffed his wine.

Witless Witts leaned over the table, closer to Magdalene. His lips smacked as he chewed on jerky, which took longer than usual, partly owed to some of his missing teeth. He radiated utter contempt.

Magdalene spoke, "So you sought Lord Bennet's library, for secrets it holds. Secrets common folk do not comprehend." She meant to ask, but it rolled out in her monotone. She, too, studied Fentin's face for a reaction.

He smirked again. Pointed two fingers at her. Kept his eyes locked onto hers. There was something magnetic about his gaze. Something unnatural. It slowly peeled away layers of the world around her and froze her into place. Some form of wicked sorcery.

"See, Miss Hanbury. That lass sittin' next to ya—she's a bright one. Quick on the uptake."

"Please, Mister McLachlan, I am begging you," Jenny-not-Hanbury said. "If you tell us what you want, I promise I will help you as long as you don't harm the girl—"

"Name," he said.

"What?"

He had never taken his eyes off Magdalene.

"Your name. Names hold power. And power is what I take. Give me your name."

Ignoring her bondage, Jenny leaned over and hissed at her, "You don't have to answer hi—"

"Magdalene," Magdalene said. "Magdalene McLachlan."

His lips parted and the air about him shifted. He masked a stronger reaction from surfacing.

"Little Maggie," the syllables playfully rolled out. He clicked his tongue. "You prolly don't remember me, but I remember seein' you as a wee lass."

He held out a hand flat by his side, low. Never breaking eye contact. Never blinking.

Shark eyes.

"About yea tall, you were. I knew I remembered your big brown doe eyes. Color me surprised that my useless fuck of a brother's loins produced such a clever girl. But you're not looking too healthy. All skin and bones. What is that prick been feedin' ya?"

He licked his lips, took his feet off the table, and downed the remaining contents of his wine glass in one shot.

"Father is dead," she said. The sentiment flashed in her eyes, finally eliciting a more tangible reaction from him: his eyes widened, even if only subtly so.

"Mister McLachlan, sir," Jenny interrupted them. "I do not mean to interrupt this, uh, touching family reunion of yours, but I would like to stress that there is no need to keep us helpless women tied up like this. It's barbaric, and I swear—upon all that is holy—that—"

"I don't give a rat's ass about anything holy. I commune with powers from beyond this world," Fentin "Shark-Eyes" McLachlan dismissed her, casting a sidelong glance at Jenny.

Witless Witts stifled an awkward giggle. It died in his throat, but he could barely contain his excitement. Hoskins also audibly shifted his weight again.

The rest of the mansion had fallen deathly silent. But the demons—the creatures they had seen earlier—they still lurked, somewhere out there, just out of sight. But far from being out of Magdalene's mind.

"I will not beat around the bush," Jenny said.

Hoskins repeated the last word and chortled behind them.

"We are at your mercy, and I don't care whom I have to swear any oaths to, I only vow to do as you tell me, as long as that guarantees that Maggie and I are not harmed."

She sighed deeply. Her words carved through the air with expertise, timed just before anybody could respond again.

"I will be absolutely honest with you," she said. The lies came so naturally from her mouth and felt like silk brushing softly over skin. The way she spoke transformed a bit more by the end of every sentence.

A different accent emerged. It sounded more like it stemmed from the fog-strangled streets of Crimsonport's lower city wards, blended with foreigners and sporting a hint of the northern accent to match Fentin McLachlan's own. For a split second, Maggie wondered if this was Jenny's real manner of speaking.

"My real name is Marie Cook. I am nobody of grand standing, I am merely someone who was lookin' to make some quick coin off o' Lord Bennet."

She shot a nervous glance in the round, met by arched brows and befuddlement all around, then she flashed an uncannily confident smile before she continued to keep the ball rolling.

"You gents seem to be working somethin'. Somethin' lucrative. I can smell good game seven miles 'gainst the wind, and I know that Lord Bennet's riches can't be the end-all be-all of it, yeah? It's gotta be a bigger score awaitin' you lot here in the Hold, innit?"

Witless Witts guffawed again and slapped the table.

"She's a smart one too, eh cap'n? Yeah, woman. We are gettin' mighty close to the king's—"

"Shut your stupid fuckin' hole," Shark-Eyes growled at Witts. He then sneered at Jenny. "And you must think I am balmy on the crumpet, ya thievin' strumpet. Fuck off."

Witts shrugged and shuddered, growing nervous, then he chugged more liquor.

"I am not stupid, woman. I know you're anglin' for somethin'. Your kind always does. No, we have no use for you and yer yappin'."

"I am also adept at forgin' papers and paintin's, and—oh, even blowin' glass," Jenny quipped, rounded off with a smirk and a playful wink that projected a growing air confidence, which stood in stark contrast with how they had bound her to a chair like Maggie.

The dread captain's lips were wet with wine and oozed a deviousness as they curled into a smirk of his own.

"Where we are headed, what we are doin'—you'd need a much stronger stomach than I fathom you've got, Miss Cook. If that's even your real name. You'd need to be willin' to pact with powers beyond ken. And I don't particularly sense a familiarity with the preternatural on you. How long have ya been here in Bennet's home, oblivious to the treasures he and his ilk are sittin' on?"

"I don't know, but I know enough to know that you are far more clever than you let on. You are far more educated than a man of your station ought to normally be. You are a man who defies conventions, and I am a woman who maneuvers outside of 'em."

The pirate captain awaited more.

He replied, "Unless you're willin' to sell your soul to strange powers, to commune with things from other worlds, Miss Cook, then I have no fuckin' use for ya."

Maggie's attention bounced back and forth between them, like watching a duel of wits. Jenny narrowed her eyes at Fentin.

"Aren't ya afraid of the wrath of God, toyin' with forces o' the devil like that?"

Another smirk from Shark-Eyes. Never blinking.

"In truth, there are no gods nor devils in this world. Those are words that small-minded men have used to make sense of things that resist definition."

A sweeping gesture between Witts and Hoskins segued to his next speech, "These fearless men here are willin' to do what it takes to grasp and embrace such power. They are not blinded by crusty old traditions."

"Hear hear," Witts said, raising his bottle in a crude toast.

"Which takes me to the most interestin' person sittin' at this very here table," Shark-Eyes concluded. Locking eyes with Maggie again. "My dear wee niece, hell forbid I would have expected to ever meet ya again, but here we are. And I want to know what you know. Where ya learned your sorcery from. You summoned a fuckin' psychopomp. I know some necromancy, but that shite is unheard of. Ripped ten sturdy men to pieces without so much as a fuckin' warnin'. If I hadn't had some sigil to deal with our fanged friends gettin' unruly, we would have had an even more serious problem on our hands."

Maggie took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. Stayed calm. Nora had taught her to stay calm in the face of monsters. They always fed upon fear. No need to feed them. No need to lend them power.

"No need to share," she said. "You will kill me anyway—just sooner, if I tell you."

Fentin glowered at her. Struggled to conceal another sneer.

"I had a look at your bags, lass. Found some interestin' reagents in there. Satchels of dust, I'm guessin' from gravestone and bones and pig iron? No writin'. How long have you been practicing? You're so bloody young."

Maggie clenched her lips shut. They formed a thin white line upon her already pale face. Jenny's gaze burnt upon her, but she maintained eye contact with her evil uncle.

"Can't be too long that you're at it. I suspect you're a little bit more intuitive, aren't ya? Wouldn't be a surprise, it's gotta run in the family," he said.

Feeding the sinking feeling in Maggie's stomach, he might deduce more as time went on, even if she stayed silent.

"You and I are not that different, lass. People like us are like doorways. We are vessels for the darkness, as it slowly makes its way into this world. Takes root and grows. Now is the age of darkness, Maggie. The age for it to engulf the world—and transfigure it."

His gaze.

His gaze was truly paralyzing. Rooted in magick. Some power he worked; some demonic power, it suffused his gaze. Could he read surface thoughts? Could he corrupt minds and control weak minds? She dreaded all the possibilities.

"Things like vampyria, wolf-men, fiendish abominations—all real, as you well know if you're workin' necromancy. You should embrace it if you do have that preternatural awareness that so many people lack. Not resist."

Jenny scoffed. She interrupted him, earning a fiery glare from Shark-Eyes. "I know what I saw. Those—things. They were quite real, and if you had told me about 'em just a few days prior, I woulda laughed at ya and said you were out o' your bloody mind. But how much of this is superstition, how much is real?"

Everybody stared at the swindling thief. The confidence in her countenance crumbled.

"What?"

Shark-Eyes bared his teeth again in a hideous, wicked grin.

"All of it, woman. All of it. You're in the presence of experts, folk who have sliced through the shite of obliviousness with blades of knowin'."

Ignoring her again, he said to Maggie, "You and I could accomplish great things. You must hear whispers."

A shiver shook her spine and blood ran cold in her veins. Colder than Bennet's blood, still soaking the tablecloth beside them.

"I, too, hear whispers. They are probably different from the ones you heed. The ones you hear, they come from a place where our kind goes to rot and sleep forever."

Shark-Eyes lost his cool in that moment. The fervor gripped him; droplets of spittle sprayed from his mouth as he whipped himself up into a fevered frenzy with his own speech. He pointed to the ceiling, but all people present knew that he pointed to the stars.

"They are the opposite. The ones I hear, they come from a place between the celestial bodies in the heavens. They are not remembered by the livin', they are the forgotten ones. They have slept long enough, and they stir in their slumber. They ready to awaken. And we can be the heralds of the new age. God-kings that erect our own, new empires on top o' the ruins of an already forsaken world. Have you not felt how the nights grow longer each year? The winters colder? The fog thicker?"

The hairs upon Maggie's nape bristled. She knew what he said was true. Or at the very least, it was one of the few things he genuinely believed in.

"Yes," Maggie said. Nodding slowly. "I admit, our connection to such forces is not that different. But you and I are very different people. We may share blood, and perhaps even madness. Yet I would never join you in your pursuit. I have friends who hunt your kind—"

"My kind? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Monster."

Uncle and niece glared at each other. Murder in both their eyes.

His voice quaked with cold, seething anger, "And what fuckin' friends? Where are they now?"

She kept silent.

The glass in his hand cracked under the growing pressure of his fist clenching around it. Jenny gasped, and even as much as she pretended to stay calm, Maggie shuddered when the glass exploded into a rain of brilliant shards and wine. Fentin slammed his palm onto the tabletop, leaving a red handprint, where blood and wine admixed.

He spat, "It's those fuckin' hunters from the city, isn't it? It's that Merry fuckin' bandit ponce, Johnn Von Brandt. Isn't it?"

Then, with another, more violent slap that caused all cutlery and plates and glasses to rattle, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "I will kill 'em all!"

Jenny's nostrils flared again as she forced herself to display calm, and Maggie shared the same inner struggle.

"Mister McLachlan, sir," Jenny spoke up. Her voice trembled, likely more than she preferred to project. "I have a sudden and dire need to make use o' the restrooms. If you would be so kind to untie me now?"

He thrust out an index finger, pointing it at her face. Blood dripped from his hand.

"Aggressive mimicry, Miss Cook. I have sailed many seas and heard many tales of creatures strange and distant, from all around the world. I have heard of predators that pose as prey, of true wolves that don the sheep's wool and wait until the bigger wolf turns inattentive—then strikes."

"What?"

"I'm sayin' that you can soil your undergarments for all I care. Reckon I already told ya. I am not fuckin' stupid."

"Please, sir. I sense you are not that barbaric. Have one of your fuckin' men escort me, or both for all I care. Hell, I'll piss right in front of 'em, I swear. No funny business."

He began picking glass shards from his hand, not flinching even once. Displaying the same detached coldness that guised the fiery hot rage he had just displayed at his own mention of Johnn Von Brandt.

"Fine. You are right. I am no savage."

He smirked. Nodded at Hoskins.

The pirate standing behind Jenny stepped away from the wall and began working the knots to release her. He knelt to free her legs, then moved to release her hands from the simple bindings made of coarse rope.

"Thank you. Despite what you may be thinkin' right now, I believe we'll find a great way to cooperate in the future," Jenny said, rubbing her wrists as she rose.

She stifled a gasp as Hoskins forcefully grabbed her by the arm.

"Fuck off," Fentin said without looking up.

While Hoskins dragged Jenny out of the room, the captain continued plucking out piece by piece and dropping the bloodied little shards of glass onto the plate before him with soft little clinks.

Clink. Clink.

Several heartbeats after Jenny and Hoskins had left the dining room, and the muffled voices of them reached the chamber from a distance, Shark-Eyes said without looking up, "I have dabbled in necromancy myself, lass. I could learn a thing or two from ya. And you could learn a lot from me. We are not limited to crusty old traditions. We can walk as many roads as we please. How did you call upon a psychopomp, I wonder?"

Maggie squinted and refrained from admitting anything. Nor did she want to revisit the moments of desperation when she first called upon the messengers of death.

"The first necromancers spoke the language of the dead. And contrary to common misconception, they never commanded the dead directly. They bargained with 'em. Where man defies fear of death by embracing the illusion of life, the necromancers defy the illusion. They embrace their fears, and in doing so, understand."

Clink. Clink.

Maggie finally spoke up with a question of her own, "What have you done? Why can I not hear the whispers?"

Another cruel grin marked his face and rested there. He needed not even look up to instill dread upon Maggie in doing so, focused still on removing the last shards from his hand.

"Thorathoth. Zhaal," he hissed, maintaining that grin all the while.

Click. Scrape. Scratch. Click.

Things approached unseen, lurking in the corridors just outside the dining room. Witless Witts' face turned white as a sheet. Claws heralded the creatures nearing.

A set of sharp black talons slid around the corner of the doorway. A hideous head poked inside. Dozens of eyes, like those of an insect or a spider, stared empty into the chamber. The blood drained from Maggie's face as she saw herself reflected in those eyes—too many eyes—and not a shred of humanity, not an ounce of mercy in them.

As it prowled into the room, four bat-like wings furled closely around its lithe body, it made only few sounds. Even Witless Witts inhaled sharply, masking a gasp. Even the pirates in Shark-Eyes' company must have felt fear in the presence of these abominations.

Following the first, another crept inside, ducking through the doorway. Its two heads looked almost like pyramids, with no eyes to see but slavering maws. Its four equine legs stepped silently, and its claws rhythmically opened and closed, as if ready to slash necks and rend human flesh at the drop of a hat.

"I'm sure your moment of glory was born of desperation. My path was the same. I was willin' to sell my soul to survive in this dark world of man, this forsaken world. It is doomed, ya know? Whether we do anythin' about it or not. We can only choose to be the angels of its destruction and rebirth, or to perish alongside the rest of the apes. I chose to stand a cut above the rest of regular men. And they responded."

Clink. The last glass shard landed on the plate. Shark-Eyes folded his hands before him. His voice had fully calmed again.

"I believe not in God nor devil. The things here, the things I speak with—their whispers—I know they are not 'demons', but somethin' else entirely."

The creatures remained conspicuously silent.

Thumping. Footsteps neared. Witts arched a brow as they closed in on the dining room.

Hoskins shoved Jenny through the doorway. She stumbled, tripped, fell to the floor but caught herself. Looked up at the two creatures flanking the entrance as they studied her. One with too many eyes, the other somehow sensing her with no eyes whatsoever. Dark mucus dripped from its fangs and the lustful way it inhaled caused Maggie to shudder.

"The bitch was tryin' somethin' funny," Hoskins said.

"Funny what?" Shark-Eyes snarled.

Hoskins crouched down next to Jenny, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, eliciting a sharp cry of pain.

"Talked me into closin' the door but a crack, then tried climbin' out the window. You are not as clever as ya think," he sneered into her ear. And with a wicked smile, looking up at Maggie to lock eyes with her. "And leavin' the girl to us, no less. What was it you were sayin', again?"

The creature with too many eyes hissed. Even though nothing about it looked even remotely serpentine, it emitted sounds like a rattlesnake. From where exactly on its horrendous form, Maggie could not discern.

"She might be cleverer yet than you think, ya dumb shit," Shark-Eyes said, tilting his head. The constant grins and smirks faded from his face, and he glowered at Hoskins with displeasure. "Zhaal here tells me that she set fire up there. And you are goin' to go right back up there and put it out now, aren't ya? Too many books in this fuckin' house that Bennet probably did not keep hidden in plain sight."

Everybody paused, frozen.

Eyes closed; Jenny smiled to herself. Maggie almost cracked a smile of her own.

"Go," Fentin growled at Hoskins.

His underling scrambled off.

The pirate captain sighed and nodded his head at the door, shooting Witts a glance.

"You too, help him. Prove to me you aren't as witless as the name, Witts. Earn your keep and earn that power ye've been promised."

Witts nodded slowly, then with more zest. He quickly got up and stormed out of the room. Leaving Jenny and Maggie alone with Shark-Eyes and the two demons.

Bound as her hands were in front of her, they allowed Maggie still to fold her hands. Like the legs of a spider, her thin fingers interlocked and clasped.

Like praying hands before her.

She focused and released the powers she had gathered in weeks past. Spells she had studied and meditated over for countless, sleepless hours, to the point of exhaustion. Unleashing forces that would fan the flames and feed them with pure essence.

Her own essence.

Maggie spoke, "Tell me, uncle dearest. You know as well as I that our kind can make fire—or make it grow. But do you know of any way for magick to put it out?"

She narrowed her eyes and could not help but smile at him like a cat. Like a cat playing with its food.

His face fell through various stages of frowning until it turned into a hideous grimace, contorting with boiling rage.

Maggie said, "Even if I cannot hear the whispers, I can still wield other forms of thaumaturgy."

"We truly are of the same blood," he snapped. "Are we not?"

The smile already gone, embracing the darkness she harbored in her heart, Maggie said, "Touched by shadow, and touching it." And in a whisper, "Always."

Shouts echoed from elsewhere in the mansion. Hoskins and Witts struggled to quench the growing fire. Jenny had started it, but Maggie's spell had rendered it unstoppable.

She almost jumped up in her chair—Fentin slammed the table with his bloodied fist, leaving another vermillion print. He thrust out another finger at her. Swallowed a remark.

The chair behind him went flying away as he flew into a rage, storming out of the dining room. His footsteps thudded, heavy with fury. He growled at the two demons.

"Watch them. If they run—kill 'em."

Maggie's chin crinkled. She refused to let him get away with this.

Undeterred by the looming threat, Jenny made her way to Maggie and started untying her.

The creatures did not leap. They started inching, creeping closer.

"I will distract them, and you make a run for it," Jenny whispered, so faint that a mouse would have sounded louder, so close that Maggie felt her breath upon her skin more than she heard her.

Her dainty and dexterous fingers trembled as they swiftly untied the knots binding Maggie's hands together—and froze in place.

"We hear you," said Zhaal. Its mouth did not move, but its voice sliced through the air, calm and menacing.

"We understand you," said Thorathoth. It had no eyes to watch, but Maggie felt watched by it.

Jenny started slipping the ropes out of the knots even faster. Clearly not her first time working with rope, but Maggie perished the thought.

The creatures crept closer, four clawed feet each that touched the ground and emitted only subtle little clicks and scraping sounds, drowned out by the rising cacophony outside, caused by three men struggling to put out a raging fire that now threatened to devour Bennet's mansion—and all his precious occult books.

"He is right, you know," said Zhaal. Its many eyes never blinked, like Fentin's. Cold, dark red. Evil.

"We are not so different," said Thorathoth. Its claws cut through the tablecloth as it took the long way round.

Maggie had no time to register the sensation of finally being released from her bonds. Jenny rose to her side and hugged the girl close to herself. More to comfort herself than protect her, probably, but a hint of selflessness hid beneath that cloak of self-preservation. The woman's head whipped back and forth, trying to keep eyes on both the creatures as they encircled them.

"The one you call God does not love you," said Zhaal.

Said Thorathoth, "He has abandoned you. Forsaken your world. But we—"

"We love you," whispered Zhaal.

"We love your world," breathed Thorathoth.

Maggie began whispering.

Incantations.

The occult words spilled out of her mouth. Jenny looked at her with growing dread.

Maggie knew the risks. If this went wrong, she would draw something far worse than these creatures into her world. Something ancient. Something beyond good and evil, something that could swallow thousands of souls in an instant and with little hesitation to annihilate another world in its wake.

But the monsters crept closer. And the whispers—they had told her that this Jenny was important. Even in their absence, she deigned to heed their warnings. Follow their prophetic call.

"We are but shadows of our true selves, stirring in our slumber," said Zhaal, having crept so close that the monster could pounce.

Its claws dug into the floor, like daggers piercing thick oriental carpets with ease and boring into the wooden boards underneath.

"We love your world so much, we wish to fully awaken in it," said Thorathoth, sounding raspier.

Hungrier.

The closer it got, the taller it looked. The greater the shadows it cast. As if it grew with each step, now towering over Jenny and Maggie.

"A valiant effort to banish us," said Zhaal.

"But we are not your enemy," said Thorathoth.

Their claws spread, poised to strike. Ready to slaughter.

"We are your salvation," said Zhaal.

The maws of its two heads opened wide, with spittle dripping from long, sharp fangs.

"We are the future," whispered Thorathoth.

"Inevitable," hissed both.

Inhuman, deafening shrieks left a ringing in Maggie's ears as both monstrosities lunged at them, then retreated several steps, hissing and snarling like feral beasts. The creatures reeled, as if having struck an invisible barrier.

All pretenses of playing nicely had dropped. The slavering beasts now growled and roared, staying just close enough that they could kill as soon as Maggie's spell even so much as waned.

She glowed. With an otherworldly light. Some would have called it a halo, but all definitions are cheap in the realm of the incomprehensible. Maggie could see her bright emanations in the reflections upon Zhaal's many horrid eyes.

"Stay close to me," she murmured, voice trembling.

She felt weak. It ate at away her very being. It taxed her so much. But it worked.

For now.

Jenny gripped the girl with great force, bracing her and keeping her from stumbling even as Maggie's knees buckled.

"Move," Maggie said. Then she shrieked at Zhaal, "Move!"

Jenny took the cue, stepping forward with Maggie, clutching the girl close to her bosom as they advanced. The creature retreated by the same measure. Defiant of abandoning its master's orders, but incapable of piercing that barrier, no matter how sharp its claws, no matter how deep it could cut into human flesh.

Jenny shuddered as Maggie uttered more words of power. They spilled forth from the girl's mouth—like pure instinct given sound. She did not even understand them, serving only as a conduit for something else.

The alien words stopped flowing from her mouth, followed by another shout, "Move!"

Jenny advanced with her, craning her neck to look behind them as Thorathoth followed, the two demonic predators staying as close as they could in defiance of whatever force kept them at bay.

The woman holding Maggie gritted her teeth and drew upon her final reserves of courage. Maggie felt it shining brightly, like a bonfire suddenly set ablaze. The light about her matched its incandescence.

They advanced more steps, and Zhaal shrieked again. Furiously.

Pained. It retreated more than an equal number of steps, suffering terrible agony. Its gnarled and blackened skin sizzled like drops of vitriolic acid landing on wood. The creature's form cringed, rearing back more and more and eventually—reluctantly—allowing them to pass.

The two backed out of the dining room, facing the two demons. The creatures followed every step. Both burned with malice.

"Whether or not you join us, we shall awaken," Zhaal snarled.

"Whether or not you live or perish, we shall outlast," Thorathoth growled.

"We shall rise," they hissed in unison.

Though fear still wracked her visage, Jenny barked at the creatures, "Fuck off!"

She backed away further with Maggie, cautious step by incredulous step, shoving the girl behind her but still holding her close, wary that the demons might tear them to shreds at any given moment. She understood not how any of this magick worked, acting purely on instinct.

Maggie clasped her hands together. Like praying hands. She had long stopped praying to the one the church called God, but now, more than ever, at the end of her wit, and possibly the end of their luck, they needed a miracle.

She needed the strength to work one last spell.

To break whatever kept the whispers at bay. The whispers—their only hope of egress from these monsters. And from the raging fire. The biting sting of smoke began to creep through the corridors, as Bennet mansion turned into a living hell, populated with monsters to match.

To escape from Shark-Eyes and his smoldering wrath.

"Every door your kind opens," said Zhaal, prowling after them like a wildcat.

"Every path your people pave," said Thorathoth, spreading its arms as if welcoming them for a deadly embrace.

"We come closer to our awakening," they said in unison.

And with that, the miracle happened. Coming from the most unlikely place. The creatures lent her the insight she needed.

Maggie imagined a corridor. A narrow, meandering hole. A place of fog and living darkness. Where the whispers reigned. Where the spirits swirled like mists. A place where the veil was weakest. A bridge between all worlds that ever were, and all worlds that ever would be.

Like these demons somehow entered the human world, so did the spirits somehow. And now, she needed to use that same road to escape.

"There," Maggie gasped.

She unclasped her hands and tugged at Jenny's arm. Pointed to a nearby door.

Jenny must have recognized it, confused over how such a useless room may grant them escape. But she trusted Maggie's directions, left with no other options in the face of such deadly horrors.

The woman ripped the door to the kitchen open but froze upon seeing what lay beyond it.

Went slack jawed.

There was no kitchen there, but a yawning darkness. A narrow corridor, roughly hewn into stone. Mists roiled in a deep and infinite, coiling passageway. Inhuman shrieks of spirits reached them from deep within.

And whispers.

The hair on Maggie's nape bristled once more. Not with fear, but an excited solace.

This—this was their salvation. A dark embrace that would grant them escape. Yet a pit of great peril itself.

She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, worried more about Jenny than herself.

"We must enter," she told the woman.

"What? No. What is that?"

"We must enter," Maggie sighed, growing weak, slumping against Jenny's grip.

Darkness encroached from all sides upon the field of her vision. A deep sleep threatened to overwhelm her. And she dreaded the thought of losing consciousness, of this spell of hers ending, and exposing them to the mercy of the claws and fangs of Zhaal and Thorathoth, the demons that still followed, only two steps away at bay. Or worse: to the mercy of Fentin "Shark-Eyes" McLachlan.

The swindler propped her up and groaned, "No! Alright. Fuck!"

Jenny clamped her eyes shut and plunged the two of them into the depths of that corridor.

Light engulfed them.

The demons refused to follow. Consciousness slipped further and further away from Maggie. The deeper Jenny carried her—eventually truly carrying the anemic girl in her surprisingly strong arms—the mists of this impossible corridor swallowed all sounds. Jenny's shoes created no echoes, as if she walked upon thin air.

And perhaps she did.

Even as the whispers gave Maggie comfort, the spirits here were anything but benevolent. The terror in Jenny's face justified, for if the spell ended prematurely, the entities here would claim them. Swallow them whole. Sever their ghosts from their bodies, making them disappear from their world in an instant, never to be seen again.

Only the light that shone from Maggie, mysterious, and bright, and warm, guided the way. Allowed Jenny to carry her deeper and deeper down the corridor.

A speck of light appeared at the end of this infinite and reality-defying hallway. Bennet's mansion had long disappeared behind them, molten into the pool of darkness, taking with it the dread pirate and his demons—Maggie glimpsed as much as she fought to keep her eyelids open.

Spirits all around them yearned to feast on their life force.

To drink their memories and fool themselves into thinking these were the lives they had lost, distorted through the confusion that grew with each passing moment in the intersection between worlds. More afraid than living mortals of the afterlife, whatever it truly was.

A place that bled outwards, seeping, and soaking the fabric of what humanity considered to be… reality. A growing wound.

Only the faerie light that shone from Maggie kept all these hungry, angry, confused spirits at bay.

Eventually, the girl fully slipped from consciousness, long before Jenny even reached the end of the corridor.

Yet the light refused to die.

—Submitted by Wratts

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt.18 (Final)

A/N: Everyone! Thank you so much for all the support! It means soo much to me! And I am so sorry for the delay, it took me much longer than anticipated to write and edit it. Thank you for being patient with me and I hope it’s worth all the wait. As always, feedback is always appreciated! Happy reading!

Your heart was beating a mile a minute the second the familiar building came into view. You were taking deep breaths and trying to regulate your heartbeat. What if this was a mistake? What if Jaehyun was with someone else already? He is very handsome and a great human, so that would not be surprising. Or worse, what if he hates your guts and he refuses to see you?

‘Stop it! Stop thinking about all the bad things that can happen to you and focus. You can do this.’ 

You give yourself a pep talk that sort of works. Your hands are still trembling but at least your breathing was more even now. Taking a deep breath, you enter the building that for almost a year you called home. You were overwhelmed with emotions the second you stepped through the threshold, mind flooded with a flurry of memories and you felt like you were going to break down right then and there.

“Noona? Is that you?!” You hear an excited voice exclaim from the elevators, gaining your attention.

“Mark!” You exclaim happily, forgetting your previous worries.

Mark comes up to you in a rush and gives you a hug, spinning you around and making you dizzy.

“I can’t believe you’re here noona! Johnny! Noona is here!” Mark screams across the lobby, gaining the attention of many.

“Oh! Noona!” Johnny yells back excitedly, running towards you and gives you a hug as well.

“Are you moving back to work here?” Johnny asks once he’s let go of you. 

“Um, no I am not.” You say, taking a deep breath for courage and hoping you don’t look like a fool for what you’re about to ask.

“Is Jaehyun here?” You ask, scared of what the answer might be.

“Oh…” Both Mark and Johnny say awkwardly, your heart instantly sinking to your stomach. This did not sound good.

“He isn’t here anymore.” Mark starts, awkwardly looking away from your piercing gaze.

“Oh. Did he quit?” You ask, hoping you can perhaps track him down somewhere in New York. 

“He moved to Japan.” Johnny explains, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You felt like someone punched you in the gut and you swore your heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. Japan? You crossed the Pacific ocean just to find out he was much closer than you thought.

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure he is having a good time in Japan.” You say with a forced smile, really hoping they couldn’t tell how upset you were. 

“Yeah…” Johnny trailed off, a little uncomfortable. “Hey, do you have any plans? Maybe the three of us should go and get lunch together.”  He suggested, hoping to ease up the mood.

“Yeah! Let’s get some New York pizza noona!” Mark suggested excitedly.

“Of course! I’d love to get pizza with you guys.” You agree, missing the delicious New York staple.

“Great! Would you like to meet at Central Park?” Johnny asks, remembering where your favorite pizza place is.

“Of course. See you guys there at noon.” You agree, giving them a hug and leaving the building.

You had a few hours to kill so you decided to walk to Central Park. It was going to take about an hour or so to get there and you really needed the alone time to decompress before meeting Johnny and Mark. 

You were overwhelmed by the nostalgia you felt by the familiar streets of New York, remembering all the fond memories you had of the city. You were busy enjoying the brisk New York winter air that you had not noticed the hot tears rolling down your face. You quickly wiped them away, not wanting to attract any attention to yourself. You knew people in New York were like the people in Seoul, they minded their own business and didn’t pay attention to the people around them. Even so, you did not want to be the weird lady crying down the street. You could not believe that Jaehyun was in Japan now, your trip to New York was useless now. Of course, catching up with Mark and Johnny was going to be nice, you missed them; but it wasn’t the main reason you came to New York.

‘What if he met someone else? Maybe he does not want to know about me anymore. He must have moved on now, I haven’t talked to him for months, he probably doesn’t want to know anything about me.’ You thought, hating yourself for groveling in your self-pity. If Jaehyun had moved on and was with someone else, it was entirely your fault. 

You finally get to Central Park and find your favorite snack cart and buy yourself a soft pretzel. You walk aimlessly for a while, enjoying the smell of the crisp air. You watch in silence as kids throw rocks at the frozen pond in the middle of the park. You smile at the sight of moms hurriedly grabbing their children away from the edge of the pond. You decide that some coffee might make you feel better, especially with all the mixed emotions you were feeling. Mark and Johnny would be arriving in about 20 minutes and you want to be more composed for their arrival. You walk into Le Pain Quotidien and order a coffee, sitting in the outdoor chairs, texting Mark to let him know your exact location.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and try to hold in your tears. You could not believe you had completely ruined the best thing that had ever happened to you because you were stupid and you let a stupid man make you doubt your feelings. 

“Hey noona!” Mark said excitedly, waking you from your reverie. You saw him waving at you and you smiled at him, standing up and greeting them with a hug.

“You ready to pig out on the best pizza ever?” Johnny jokes, wrapping an arm around you. 

“You know it!” You agree with a laugh, feeling the ominous cloud above your head lift, even if it’s momentary. 

“I can’t wait to go into a food coma!” Mark says excitedly, making you shake your head at his antics.

Once at the pizza place, you guys order your pies and make small talk, enjoying each other's presence. 

 “So how long are you staying in New York for noona?” Mark asks, taking a bite from his slice.

“I am actually leaving the day after tomorrow.” You confess, making both men look at you in surprise.

“What? Why so soon?” Johnny asks, confused that you came all the way to New York just to be here for two days.

“Yeah, I only have a week off, so I need to go back. I missed you guys, so I’m happy I get to spend time with the two of you.” You say, hoping they would buy it. 

“Oh…” They let out in unison, changing the subject to much lighter conversation and enjoying the food. 

After paying for lunch, much to your insistence, you hugged your two friends and bid them goodbye. They were very adamant on walking you to your hotel, but you refused. You had a lot of time to kill and wanted to visit some of your favorite spots and do some shopping. You did agree, however, to let them take you to the airport for your flight since it was an overnight flight and they had enough time to take you after work. 

You waited until you saw their taxi take off to start your slow journey back to your hotel.

Taking advantage of the fact that you’re in New York to do some sight seeing would have been a smart thing to do; however, you were not in the right mindset to revisit all the places you had gone to with Jaehyun. 

The aimless walking through the crowded streets of the busy city was helping your tattered heart feel distracted from its incessant sadness. The small smile that graced your face could not be helped as you watched a flock of kindergarteners exiting their school and rushing towards their parents. Sighing heavily, you pushed away the memories of you and Jaehyun talking about kids; how he used to say he wanted kids and seeing his face light up every time he would see a cute kid whenever you’d take afternoon strolls through Central Park. He never specified if he wanted to have kids with you specifically, but the way he would say it would make you feel like that’s what he meant. 

You brush away the stray tear that rolled down your face, blaming it on the chilly winter wind even though you knew that was a lie. 

By the time you got to your hotel it was well past four pm; you did not realize you had wandered around for that long until you plopped on your bed and could feel your feet ache and your face tingle as your cold skin thawed out. You turned the TV on so you could have some background noise during your shower, not wanting to be completely alone with your thoughts. 

You were grateful for the warm water caressing your skin, as it was blending with the tears that were streaming down your face. In the confines of your hotel room, you could no longer hold back how you were feeling. You were crushed, devastated at the fact that Jaehyun was gone. It really felt like now he was out of your life forever. You hiccuped a sob, not wanting to hold back any longer. Your body trembled as you cried, heart-breaking sobs leaving your body. Pounding on the tiled wall, you whispered broken apologies to Jaehyun, knowing that this was all your fault. You held your arms in front of you, supporting your weight against the tiled walls of the shower. The water had run cold by now and your body started shivering all over again. Turning off the water, you wrapped your body in one of the fluffy hotel towels, seeking their warmth. After putting on some pajamas, you burrowed under the warm covers of the bed; the heaviness in your heart and eyelids outweighed the grumbling of your stomach. You fell asleep before you knew it, Jaehyun’s face was the last conscious thought you had. 

You were startled awake by the sound of an obnoxious alarm, groaning in realization that it was morning time. You got dressed for the uneventful day and decided to change your flight to tonight, since you did not have any other reason to stay another day. The person you came to look for was not in New York and you only had lunch plans with Johnny and Mark. Sighing, you decided to order room service instead of going to the dining hall, not in the mood to be around people. 

Markie: Hey noona, we want to see if you’re down to get some Indian food today for lunch?

You looked away from the romcom on the tv to read Mark’s message, smiling at his choice, sending him a quick reply as your agreement. It was already eleven am and you should probably start heading over there before you’re late. 

The sun was breaking through the dark clouds of the cold morning, warming up your face. You welcomed the warmth it gave you, making you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. You grab a cup of coffee from the coffee shop near your hotel,needing something a little better than the instant packets from the hotel. You had already checked out and had your carry on with you, so taking a taxi to meet Mark and Johnny was the smarter choice. 

You met both men outside the office building, deciding to walk together to the restaurant since it was close by. Both of them were surprised to see you with your suitcase since they thought you were leaving the next day. You shrugged it off, telling them that you had to head back sooner than expected. If they didn’t believe your lie, they did not call you out on it. Instead, they fought over who would carry your bag for you. Their childish banter made you laugh with gusto, something you have not done in months. This was the first time you genuinely laughed and it felt so good you could almost cry. Johnny ended up being the winner and you walked arm in arm with Mark, hearing all about the success of the store and a lot more juicy office gossip. 

“Noona, I really can’t believe you’re leaving.” Mark whines, tugging your suitcase behind him as you all exit the restaurant after lunch.

“I know, I wish I could stay longer.” You say, ruffling the hair on top of his head.

“Mark, leave her alone. Go get her a cab.” Johnny chastises, pushing the younger man towards the curb of the street.

“So,” Johnny says, looking over at you, “The only reason you came to New York was to look for Jaehyun, right?” Johnny asks, peering over at you from the corner of his eye.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, deciding that it was no use to lie. 

“Yeah. It was the only reason. I guess it was stupid of me to hope he would still be here.” You say, looking away from Johnny and you hope he can’t see the tears welling in your water line.

“I think you should reach out to him. I don’t think he has moved on either.” Johnny says in a calm voice, gauging your reaction.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. “As much as I’d like to believe that’s true, I don’t think Jaehyun would wait for someone like me.” You sigh, closing your eyes at the pain that’s fast returning to your chest. 

“Hey. Don’t say that. Don’t discredit Jaehyun either. We both know he is a good guy and he really cared for you. You won’t know how he feels unless you ask him. You don’t want to stay in the ‘what if’ limbo forever.” He nudges you, glancing at the cab that pulled up to the curb.

“Noona, your cab is here!” Mark announced, making his way over to you. 

He gave you a big hug goodbye and made you promise to text him once you made it safely to the airport and back to Korea. You smiled at his worry and made him promise to visit you soon.

You gave Johnny a small, tight smile before enveloping him in a hug.

“I texted you his new number. Trust me, just call him.” He whispered before letting you go and nudging you towards the cab.

You smiled at both of them and waved, the lights becoming blurry as your tears rolled down your cheeks. 

_______________

With bleary eyes, you take your phone out of your pocket and get a cab to take you back to your place. Once inside the cab you tell the driver your address and you lay back. Closing your eyes, you sigh at the slight sting. You were consumed with thoughts of your conversation with Johnny and sleep completely evaded you. Even if you tried to get some shut eye in your comfortable first class seat, sleep would not come and it made you very irritable. Thankfully the flight attendant was very nice and kept bringing you coffee or tea and that helped you feel better.  You were just looking forward to being home and sleeping on your comfortable bed. Looking at your phone screen you debate whether or not you should call Jaehyun. You saved his number last night at the airport and you’d be lying if you said your heart was not beating erratically at the sight of it. You could not decide whether or not it was a good idea to contact him; Johnny was very convincing but he could be wrong. After everything that has happened, you didn’t know if he would take kindly to you calling him. Deciding that it was now or never, you take a deep breath and press the call button, secretly hoping that he does not answer. You don’t know whether to be happy or disappointed when  the call went to voicemail. You sigh, hoping your heart will stop beating so erratically when you notice the cab is turning into your street.

Thanking the cab driver, you head to your building and think about what you’re going to have for lunch after your shower and the much needed nap. What you were not expecting was seeing a tall figure standing outside your apartment door.

“Hey, can we talk?” Chanyeol asks, his nervous eyes pleading. 

You sigh deeply and close your eyes. All you wanted to do was shower, sleep, eat and cry. But this was impossible since Chanyeol once again shows up and does whatever he pleases.

“Okay.” You say, typing your code on your door. You don’t miss the way Chanyeol eyes your appearance and your suitcase, making you more annoyed than you already felt.

Walking inside, you leave the suitcase near your door and Chanyeol silently follows behind you, feeling awkward. 

“Would you like some tea or coffee?” You ask, your manners still showing up even though you’d rather not be doing this right now. 

“Coffee sounds great, thanks.” Chanyeol says, standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. 

“You know you can take a seat, right?” You say, a small amount of humor in your voice due to the funny sight. 

“Oh.” He lets out in embarrassment, taking a seat on your couch and hating how awkward he’s acting.

You finish brewing the coffee and place it on the coffee table in front of chanyeol, taking a seat in the far corner of the couch.

“So,”  you start. “What do you want to talk about?” You ask, wanting to get this over with because you really needed that shower. 

“Did you go somewhere?” He asks, looking over at the suitcase by the door.

Eyebrow raised, you look into his eyes as an involuntary scoff leaves your lips. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? Because if it is, I have other things to do and I’d appreciate it if you leave.” You say, outraged at the fact that Chanyeol thinks he can come to your home and question you when he is the one who cheated.

“No! No it’s not. I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous.” He fidgets and you relax on your seat. Feeling a little bad about snapping at him but your patience was running thin. 

“Okay, well then speak please.” You prod, needing this to be over.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I know that I have messed up and I have run out of second chances. I’m not asking you to take me back, I’m just asking you to forgive me for hurting you and cheating on you.” He says, sincerity in his eyes and voice. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re mature enough to see what you did is wrong. I forgive you.” You say, surprised at how you actually meant it.

“Thank you. I really am sorry. I was a selfish jerk and I realized that I still have a lot to work on. Thank you for listening to me even though I’m sure you hate me.” He says, taking a sip from his coffee.

“I don’t hate you.” You say with a small smile, “I just hope that you don’t do that to anyone else.” You threaten, making him chuckle.

“Of course!” He put his hands up in surrender, making you smile. “So, did you find him?” He asks, taking you by surprise.

“Find who?” You ask, playing dumb.

“Jaehyun. I tried to find you when I came back from Japan and Suho told me that you went to New York. I kind of figured that you went to look for him.” He explains. You sigh deeply, the exhaustion from your trip and the time difference catching up to you.

“No, I did not. He doesn’t live in New York anymore.” You answer in a monotone voice, not really wanting to talk about your feelings to Chanyeol.

“I’m sorry. I know you still love him. I hope you can find him and work things out. I really do.” Chanyeol says sincerely, making you smile and give him a small nod.

“Thanks.” You say, enjoying the pleasant moment of understanding between you and Chanyeol.

“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, I’m sure you’re tired from your trip. Good luck with everything.” He says and leaves your apartment, leaving you in a deeper hole of emotions.

You could not believe what had just happened in the last 72 hours. You found out the love of your life moved to a country that is much closer to you than you thought. You were cheated on, and said cheating ex hunted you down until he found you and apologized for his horrible actions. That shower and greasy food were definitely needed now.

______________________

After catching up on some much needed sleep over the weekend and girl talk with Mina to let her know what happened on your short trip to New York, you were ready to tackle the new work week. Well, new work week for you. You decided to cut your time off short and returned to work a couple days early and it just happened to be Wednesday. You were not complaining though, at least your work week was going to be short. You never got a call back from Jaehyun or heard from him, so you decided to wait a few more days before calling again. Of course, you didn’t leave a message and it’s obnoxious of you to think that he still kept your number even though he changed his. Knowing Jaehyun he was not going to return the call to an unknown number that left no message. Taking another long sip of your coffee you exit the elevator to your floor and check your phone for any new messages from Namjoon. The current project you were working on was a little behind schedule because you left Jimin in charge when you left and he got injured and was now out of commission. Namjoon trusted that you could catch up and therefore he was blowing up your phone with updates and scheduled meetings in order to catch up. You were so entranced with the message you were reading that you did not notice the group of people headed your way.

“Noona! You’re back!” You hear Jungkook exclaim from in front of you, his puppy energy never failing to make your day.

“Hey Kook, I’m back….” You trailed off as you looked up. Voice catching in your throat at the sight of Jungkook with Jaehyun and two members of the PR team. You most likely looked like a deer caught in headlights and as pale as someone who just saw a ghost. You stood there for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a few seconds, enchanted by those beautiful brown eyes that you love so much. Jungkook was going to introduce Jaehyun to you but you quickly cut him off, saying some nonsense about needing to go into your office to make a phone call. 

Rushing into your office, you slam the door shut and press your shaking body against it, your erratic breathing not slowing down. 

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whisper to yourself, moving away from your office door so you could take a sip of water, your throat becoming very dry. You did not realize you were crying until you felt the wet trail on your cheeks, wiping them with a shaky hand.

You hear your office door open, thinking it’s Jungkook checking in on you because of your odd behavior.

“Kookie, I can’t talk to you right now.” You say in a shaky voice, back facking him because you don’t want him to see you crying. 

“I’m not Jungkook.” The smooth velvety voice says behind you, your back stiffening at the sound of it. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before turning around and facing the one person you did not expect to see. The love of your life and the reason why you went across the world. You could not believe he was in front of you right now. Staring into his eyes, you wait to see his reaction, not wanting to act in a haste. 

“You know, it was pretty rude of you to cut off that poor kid when he was trying to do his job and introduce us.” Jaehyun says, beautiful brown eyes looking into yours. He didn’t look angry or upset, his face neutral of emotion and even more handsome than you remember. 

“Yeah, I uh… I had a phone call to take.” You lie, still not believing your eyes. 

“You are still a bad liar.” Jaehyun chuckles, slowly walking towards you.

You try to be strong and hold your tears in, but you could no longer hold back. They freely fell from your eyes and you turned around, your shaking body moving away from Jaehyun because you were embarrassed for losing it in front of him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don't cry.” Jaehyun says in a soothing voice, slowly walking towards you, not wanting to spook you.

You didn’t answer, trying hard to swallow back your sobs. You didn’t want the whole floor to hear you crying and you also didn’t want Jaehyun to see you in your current state, but he wasn’t leaving

He came up behind you and gently turned you around, looking into your eyes and taking in your tear-stained cheeks. His heart clenched at the sight of you crying and he could not help himself when he pulled you by the arm and into his embrace. He could almost cry of happiness at the feeling of you in his arms once again. It seems like you felt the same way because as soon as you were in his arms, the tears doubled and your body shook from all the emotions you were feeling at that moment. You could not believe that the love of your life was right in front of you and you were embracing him. It almost felt like you were in a lucid dream and you prayed to God that it wasn’t the case because that would be too cruel. After a few minutes of being held by Jaehyun you are finally able to regulate your breathing and you stopped crying. You muster up the courage to look up at him, extremely embarrassed for breaking down in front of him.

“Hey.” He says softly, meeting your eyes with a soft smile that makes you want to cry all over again. Oh how you’ve missed that smile. 

“Hi.” You squeak out, voice hoarse from crying.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispers, looking into your eyes, hands cradling your face.

“I’ve missed you so much too.” You say, eyes welling up all over again.

“I have to go before Jungkook tries to find me. I told him I was going to the bathroom. But I want to catch up. Are you available after work?” He asks, a sweet and hopeful look on his face.

“Yes, of course.” You say, head spinning from everything you’re feeling right now.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” He gives you a small kiss on the forehead before he leaves your office, hoping Jungkook doesn’t find him.

You plop down on your chair, shaky hands covering your face. You could not believe what just happened, that Jaehyun is in Korea and working in the same building as you. You were both excited and nervous for your meeting with Jaehyun this evening because even though he told you he missed you and gave you a kiss, you still don’t know how he feels about you and what your dynamic was going to be. For all you know, he could just mean he missed you as a friend and has no romantic feelings for you and has a girlfriend that he really loves. 

Shaking your head, you decide to focus on the work that awaits you instead of further spiraling into an anxiety attack. Everything is going to be fine….. You hope.

_________________________

You finished sending out the updated project to Namjoon, hoping that it was good enough to submit. You stretch your tired back trying to loosen your tense muscles when you hear a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You say, turning your computer off and expecting to see Namjoon coming in to ask you what the latest update on your project is. 

“Hey, are you all done?” Jaehyun asks, coming into your office.

You stare at him dumbfounded. You could still not get used to the fact that he was here, in the flesh. You had a busy day so you spent your lunch hour in your office, munching away on a sandwich while you simultaneously tried to work on your latest project. It seems like Jaehyun also had a busy lunch because Jungkook kept texting you about how much fun he was having at lunch with Jaehyun and a bunch of the ladies from PR. It doesn’t surprise you because Jaehyun is extremely handsome and he is a good person, so you really can’t blame them for taking him out to lunch.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m all done.” You finally reply, blushing at the small smirk Jaehyun gives you. 

“So, did you want to go to a restaurant or order some takeout and have it delivered to your place?” Jaehyun asks, taking you by surprise. 

Being in a public place might help ease your nerves but it won’t give you much privacy to talk about everything Jaehyuin wanted to speak to you about. But if you were to go to your house, you’re afraid that you might want to jump his bones and won’t hold back.

Deciding that privacy was going to be more important, you make your choice and hope you won’t regret it.

“Let’s get takeout and eat it at my place.” You offer, not missing the glint in his eyes at your suggestion. “Anything you’re craving?” You ask, taking your phone out to look for a delivery app.

“Jjajangmyun.” Jaehyun says, making you laugh at the suggestion of such a simple dish.

“Okay. I’ll order it once we get to my place. There’s a restaurant right down the street and it takes them no time to deliver.” You say, gathering your coat and purse so you can walk out with Jaehyun.

Thankfully it seems like everyone is gone because the hallways are empty. You didn’t want to attract attention to the fact that you’re leaving with Jaehyun because your breakup with Chanyeol is still recent and it was very public. Normally you would not care, but you don’t want to put Jaehyun in a position where people would bad-mouth him. Lord knows some of the women in the company don’t like you because you were dating Loey and they seemed pretty happy at the fact that he cheated on you. Jaehyun was too sweet to have to go through any of that, especially since you’ve already put him through so much. 

You decide to take a taxi to your place and it was spent mostly in silence, but thankfully it wasn’t awkward. Once the taxi turned into your street, you ordered the food so you wouldn’t have to wait long. You don’t know why you were so nervous, but your heart was beating a mile a minute. The elevator ride was awkward, with you staying silent and your back facing Jaehyun. You hated feeling this way because you once felt so comfortable around him that never in a million years you would think that you'd ever feel like this. 

“Here’s my place.” You say, opening the door to your apartment.

Jaehyun takes in your place as he takes his shoes off, admiring your cozy yet somewhat minimalist decor. 

“Nice place. It’s different from your New York apartment, but it’s nice.” He comments, walking into your living room.

“Thanks.” You smile at the compliment, “would you like anything to drink?” You ask, hoping to ease your nerves.

“Yeah, I would love a soda if you have any.” He says, hesitating by your kitchen island. You smile at how cute he looks and at how polite he is.

You tell him to sit down when the door rang. You went to get the noodles from the delivery person and placed them on the kitchen island, setting out chopsticks for the both of you.

You start to eat in silence and after a few bites you can’t take it anymore. Jaehyun looks at you confused when he sees you put down your utensils.

“Okay. I don’t want to seem rude, but I can’t take this anymore. I need to know everything.” You finally say, seeing the look of surprise on his face. 

“Okay.” He starts, wiping some of the sauce off his face. “Where do you want to start?” He asks.

“Do you hate me?” You ask right away. It was the one thing you wanted to know for sure before you continued.

“What? No! Of course I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have asked you to dinner tonight. Why would I hate you?” He asks, genuinely hurt that you would think he could ever hate you.

“Because I was the biggest bitch and I let myself question my feelings for you over something that was extremely stupid and insignificant.” You explain, not seeing why he couldn’t understand why you’d think he’d hate you. 

“Okay, first of all, you’re not a bitch. Second of all, I wanted you to be 100% sure about us and have no doubts.” He answers, making you smile.

“Okay. Well now I feel bad because I interrupted our dinner. Let’s finish eating and we can continue the conversation.” You suggest and he agrees, digging back into his food.

After dinner, which seems like the both of you ate at a rapid speed, you made some tea and the both of you made your way to your living room, sitting on opposite sides of the couch. Why did today make you feel a strange sense of deja vu? You shrug off the feeling and take a deep breath, steely nerves ready to let everything out. 

“So, when did you leave New York?” You ask, getting right into it.

“Oh yeah, I heard that you went to New York. Jungkook told me.” Jaehyun says, a teasing tone to his voice. You made a mental note to kill Kookie next time you see him for running his mouth unnecessarily. “But I actually left about a month after the Gala. I couldn’t stay there anymore because everything reminded me of you.” He said sheepishly, your heart wrenching painfully. Man, you really are a bitch.

“Sorry if I was a jerk and avoided you that night. I just couldn’t handle being that close to you yet so far away at the same time.” He continues but you wish he’d stop, hearing those words from him is very painful. 

“You do not have to apologize. I’m the one that should be apologizing for hurting you.” You say, tears threatening to spill all over again.

“So when did you decide to move to Korea?” You ask, changing the subject to something else you wanted to know.

“A few weeks ago. I saw that the Korea branch had a spot open for the PR President position and I decided to apply. I wanted to come back because I miss my family but also because I missed you. Plus, I saw all the scandalous articles and photos of Chanyeol and Arisa’s…. Entanglement. So I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says, looking into your eyes.

“You are way too nice.” You say in a shaky voice, tears finally rolling down your cheeks.

“If I’m being honest, the whole time I was with Chanyeol I realized that I had made a huge mistake. There wasn’t a second where I didn’t wish that I could be with you. I tried many times to call you, but I would chicken out and decide to not call you. I didn’t know if you hated me or not and I didn’t want to find out because I still love you. I never stopped.” You finally let out between sobs, the sadness you felt in your chest slowly going away. “And then I went to New York because I realized that if I didn’t at least try, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Even if you rejected me and spat at my face, at least I would know for sure. But I couldn’t bear to live with the what-ifs. Then Johnny tells me that you had moved to Japan and I felt like it was over all over again. He gave me your phone number and I mustered the courage to call you but like a coward, I didn’t leave a voicemail. I knew that you wouldn’t call back a number that you did not have saved on your phone.” You further explain.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong.” Jaehyun says, wiping away your tears. You had not noticed him move closer to you on the couch, but he was next to you now.

“I saved your number on my new phone. I had it in case I also mustered the courage to call you. I didn’t want to push you though, because I didn’t know how you were coping with Chanyeol’s indecency. When I saw your name pop up on my screen, my heart stopped. I thought I was seeing things but Johnny called me to tell me that you had gone to New York and he gave you my number. I decided to wait to speak to you until I saw you in person. I never stopped loving you either, I just hoped that we would find each other again before it was too late.” Jaehyun explains, your heart beating so fast you swore Jaehyun could hear it.

Your sobs had finally died down and all that was left were hiccups, but you were glad that you were having this conversation with Jaehyun.  The relief you felt at knowing that Jaehyun still loves you is indescribable; the pain you had been suffering for the last few months could cease now.

“You know, even though I briefly dated Chanyeol, nothing happened between us.” You confess, feeling the need to let Jaehyun know. 

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun asked, confused. He had a vague idea as to what you meant but did not want to jump to conclusions. 

“I mean that aside from a kiss here or there, nothing else happened between us. I didn’t sleep with him.” You elaborate, wanting him to know.

Jaehyun exhaled loudly, passing a hand over his face.

“I would not have judged you at all if you had. But you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” He says, shaking his head in disbelief.

You chuckle at his relief, but you would be lying if you said you were not intrigued to know whether or not he had been with someone else. You didn’t want to be intrusive and ask him because you still felt like you didn’t deserve anything from him.

“I never dated anyone while we were broken up. Nor did I sleep around either.” He says, looking into your eyes.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You say, placing your hand on his cheek. You were not going to make it known how relieved you are.

“I know, but it’s only fair I tell you if I had or not.” He says, kissing your palm.

“I love you so much. I know it might take some time, but I would love it if we could work things out and get back together.” You say, not seeing the need to be coy. You love him and you want to be with him, nothing was going to get in your way now.

“I love you too.” He says, wiping the tear stains from your cheeks. “I want to be with you too, so why waste time?” He says, holding your hands. You smile at him, feeling happiness bubble inside your chest. You had not felt this happy in the longest time and you did not want the feeling to go away. Not being able to hold back, you launch yourself to Jaehyun in a tight hug, loving the feeling of his arms embracing your body. You finally felt like you were home, where you belong. 

The both of you stayed that way for a couple of minutes, enjoying the feeling of being together again. Jaehyun pulled away, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

“I have to get going, it’s getting pretty late.” He says, standing up from the couch.

“You don’t want to spend the night? You ask, really wanting his company… and some other stuff too.

“I would love to my love, but I have to go and deal with some stuff at my place.” He vaguely explains.

“Oh. Everything okay?” You ask, if he had issues with his place, he could stay here.

“Yeah, there’s just a lot of unpacking to do. Along with other cosmetic stuff.” He replies, smiling as he grabs his coat.

His answer was very vague but you decided to not worry about it. After all, Jaehyun has proven time and time again that he’s worthy of your trust. Not wanting to dwell, you smile and give him a nod, agreeing that you’ll see him at work tomorrow. 

“Good night.” He says, standing at your door.

“Night.” You say, walking him out.

He gives you another hug and goes to kiss your cheek when you turn your head, his lips landing on yours.

He was startled at first, not expecting to feel the soft skin of your lips but he was not complaining. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. His arms wrap around your waist, grunting at the feel of your body in his arms. The kiss was getting more intense as your hands roamed his body, still not believing that he was here in the flesh. 

“Okay, I better go.” Jaehyun chuckles, pulling away from the hot kiss knowing that if he doesn’t go he will stay ravishing you all night.  

You whisper your goodbye as you watch him enter the elevator where he sends a wink and a kiss your way.

You close the door to your apartment and place a hand over your chest, not believing that everything that has happened in the last couple of hours is real. Jaehyun is finally back into your life and you would not allow anything to change that from now on.

________________

The next morning you enter your work building and you head to the elevators, greeting a few of your coworkers with a goodmorning and a smile. You were patiently waiting for the elevator to arrive in silence when you noticed that all the women around you started to whisper excitedly. You were confused as to what was causing the commotion and that’s when you felt a shoulder bump into you.

“Hey, good morning.” Jaehyun greeted you with a smile, his handsome face making you blush due to his close proximity.

“Hi.” You say back, noticing that all the whispers had stopped all of a sudden. 

“I got you coffee. Almond latte, right?” He asks, handing you a coffee cup that you did not see him carrying at first.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” You thank him for his sweet gesture, surprised that he remembers your coffee order. You internally cringe when you realize the exchange is happening in front of a lot of the female staff, already dreading the inevitable gossip.

The elevator finally arrives and everyone scurries inside, packing into the elevator and you end up being pushed up against Jaehyun. He smiles down to you and you felt the blush cover your face once again. It felt like you were falling in love with him all over again even though you never stopped. Getting off at your floor, you were surprised to see that Jaehyun was walking the same direction as you.

“Where are you going? Isn’t your office on the east wing?” You ask, ignoring the glances you get from your coworkers. 

“Yeah but I want to walk you to your office this morning.” He explains, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, well thanks. Everyone here must think that I don’t waste time trying to bag the hot new guy.” You joke, trying to hide your burning cheeks as you took a sip of the coffee Jaehyun got you.

“Maybe the new guy didn’t want to waste time to bag you.” He teases, stopping when you pause in front of your office door. 

“Cute.” You laugh, opening your door and turning around to say goodbye to Jaehyun. He took you by surprise when he leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your lips, making you blush like a schoolgirl. You quickly said bye and entered your office, shaking your head when you heard Jaehyun’s laugh outside your door. That man is going to be the death of you. 

_________

You walked to a cute little cafe that is close to your work; meeting Mina for lunch, you were both nervous and excited to let her know what was going on in your life for the past 24 hours.

“Hey! I ordered you a lemonade, I hope that’s okay.” Mina greets you, sitting on one of the outdoor tables. 

“Yes, that’s fine. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” You say, sitting down and looking at the menu.

“Nope. So, tell me. Why did you seem so eager to meet? Do you miss me that much?” She asks, direct as always.

“Of course! But I have some news.” You say but were interrupted by the waiter. He took your orders and excused himself.

“What news?” Mina asked, taking a sip from her drink.

“I’m back with Jaehyun.” You blurt out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Her eyes became the size of saucers, coughing when her drink went down the wrong way. 

“I thought you said he moved to Japan?” She asks, wiping her mouth with a napkin. 

“He had, but when I came back to work he was here. He moved to the Korea branch because there was a position open and because he heard about Chanyeol and Arisa and wanted to make sure I was okay.” You explain, warmth filling your chest at the thought of how sweet Jaehyun is.

“Wow. That’s insane. Look, I am so happy for you because I know that you never stopped loving him. But don’t you think you’re moving too fast?” She asks, genuinely concerned.

Before you could answer, your food was brought out and placed in front of you.

“What do you mean? I messed up once and I thought I had forever lost the love of my life. Now that I have gotten a second chance, I don’t want to mess it up.” You say, not understanding her point. Moving too fast? No way. Jaehyun was back in your life by the grace of the universe and you were not going to mess that up. You wanted him in your life and nothing is going to stop that from happening. 

“I know, I know. I’m not judging. I just want to make sure you are both sure that this is what you want.” She says, eyeing you wearily as she took a bite of her food.

“It is. He told me himself that he loves me and that he missed me the time we were apart. I never slept with Chanyeol and he was never with anyone either. We both acted stupidly but we never stopped loving each other. I don’t want to lose this second chance that we got.” You say, willing the tears to go away. 

Mina gave you a sympathetic look and a knowing smile, slightly nodding her head.

“Well, I guess if I was in your shoes, I’d feel the same way. I can’t imagine my life without Suho and if that’s how you feel about Jaehyun, then who am I to say anything?” She says, placing a comforting hand on your arm and giving you a small squeeze.

“Thanks.” You smile, happy at the fact that your best friend understood where you were coming from.

“Well since he’s in Korea now, I think it’s time I finally meet this guy.” She says, wanting to meet the guy she’s heard so much about.

“Of course! I will set something up. Are both you and Suho available this weekend?” You ask, mentally checking your calendar. 

“We are free, so if you want to do something, let me know.” She agrees.

The two of you continue to eat as you talk about other things as well as all the new things Minjun has learned to do. 

“Hey, how was your lunch date?” Jaehyun asks as he enters your office, it seems like this was going to be a new habit of his.

“It was good! Mina is happy for the both of us and she wants to meet you. Do you want to hang out with them on Saturday?” You ask, hoping you didn’t jump the gun and he has plans already.

“Yeah that’s fine. Can it be early in the day though? I wanted to go out to Namsan tower with you to see the lights at night.” He says, holding your hand as the two of you walk out.

“Okay! Maybe we can do lunch then? I’ll text her to make sure that’s okay with them.” You offer, excited at the thought of the important people of your life meeting.

“Sounds great.” He says, giving you a devilish smile. 

________________

“Noona. I am very disappointed in you.” Jungkook says, entering your office unannounced and plopping down on one of the chairs.

“Yes, come in.” You say sarcastically, making a note to reprimand him for his bad manners. “Why are you disappointed in me?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Because you did not tell me you’re hooking up with the new guy!” Jungkook says in mock astonishment, sounding like a total gossip girl.

“That’s because I’m not.” You answer, giving him a pointed look.

“But I saw you guys leave together yesterday holding hands.” He protests, knowing that he isn’t going crazy and seeing things. 

“That is correct. But I’m not ‘hooking up’ with him. He’s the guy from New York I told you about.” You confess, knowing that he had no idea.

Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. You spend the next thirty minutes telling him how you didn’t find him in New York, how you thought he was still living in Japan and up until the day you returned and were not expecting to see him here. Jungkook laughed at that fact because now he knew why you acted so weird that day. 

“And he is finally going to meet my best friend Mina tomorrow. We are having lunch at her house.” You tell him, feeling even more excited about it now since you’ve reiterated this story twice. Namjoon called you into his office earlier to ask you about your relationship to Jaehyun because he has heard a lot of whispering going around about the two of you. Namjoon was also very happy for you when you told him who Jaehyun was to you and he told you to ignore all the jealous ladies in the building.

“That’s awesome! I hope you’re going to wear something nice.” Jungkook says in his best judgemental voice, making you laugh.

“Of course Kookie, who do you take me for?” You tease, laughing at his exaggerated eye roll.

He says his goodbyes because he knows Namjoon will yell at him if he finds him in your office gossiping again. 

______________

You kept looking in the mirror, hoping that your dress was cute enough. It was a pretty cotton dress that stopped right above your knee, it had slightly puffy sleeves and a square neckline. You were having a picnic at Mina’s house and you wanted to look cute especially since Jaehyun had plans for the two of you.

Your doorbell rang and you grabbed your purse and light jacket, making your way out to meet Jaehyun.

“You look beautiful.” Jaehyun greets you as you open the door, giving you his signature dimpled smile.

“You’re one to talk.” You say, taking in his black skinny jeans and white button up that was tucked into his jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he looked so good you almost wanted to drag him back into your apartment and have your way with him. Yesterday he dropped you off at home and ate dinner with you but left soon after. You wanted him to stay the night but he once again said he needed to go. He was still being a little evasive about his living situation but you decided not to push. 

“Where does Mina live?” Jaehyun asks once you’re inside his car.

You told him her address, which is a nice neighborhood filled with cute starter homes. You fell in comfortable conversation on the drive to Mina’s house. You told him about the conversation you had yesterday with Jungkook and he laughed at the funny story.

“He reminds me of Mark a little bit. It seems like you have a loyal dongsaeng in New York and another one here in Korea.” He teases, parking his car in front of Mina’s house.

The drive went by so quickly that you hadn’t realized you had arrived, especially since you just took notice of the fact that Jaehyun never turned on the GPS system. He was already out of the car before you could ask him anything, so you follow his lead and make your way to her door.

“Hey! Glad you guys are here! Come in!” Suho greets, opening the door.

“You must be Jaehyun! So nice to meet you.” Suho says, shaking your boyfriend’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too.” Jaehyun says, returning the smile. Suho sends a sly wink your way and you can feel your cheeks heat up a bit.

“Minjun look! Aunty is here!” Mina says to her toddler, greeting you with a kiss.

“You must be Jaehyun! So nice to finally meet the man I have heard so much of for the last year or so!” Mina exclaims, embarrassing you completely especially because Jaehyun looked at you with a knowing smile.

“Oh? She talks about me? Good to know.” Jaehyun teases, making you elbow him. 

“Where’s Minjun? He’s the only one here that loves me.” You mumble, looking for your favorite toddler.

Little Minjun came running towards you, arms outstretched and chubby cheeks rounded with a huge smile. You lifted him into your arms and spun him around, his happy laughter making you smile. You were entertained with Minjun therefore you did not notice the longing look on Jaehyun’s face when he saw you interacting with the toddler. His face was a clear reflection of want and fortunately for you, Mina saw it and all her worries melted away. 

“Okay guys! Food is out in the backyard, let’s go eat!” Mina herds you all to the yard to enjoy the big spread of food she spent most of the day preparing. 

To say you were delighted would be an understatement. Today was just a perfect day because the most important people in your life finally met and they’re getting along great! Mina seems to like Jaehyun and you can see a difference in her interacting with him as to how she used to interact with Chanyeol. Suho has a lot in common with Jaehyun and they kept exchanging college stories and talking about other things they had in common. Thankfully Minjun loved Jaehyun too; he would run up to Jaehyun and play with him and the sight warmed your heart. The sight of Jaehyun holding and playing with Minjun made your heart twist in a beautifully painful way. He was so good with him and his face lit up the whole time he was playing with the toddler. The amount of love you felt in that moment was so overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

“Thank you so much for coming today!” Mina said to the both of you as she finished loading the dishes to the washer.

“Thank you for having us.” Jaehyun said, cradling the sleeping baby.

“Thanks for coming guys! We have to do this again soon.” Suho agrees, taking the baby from Jaehyuns’ arms.

You exchanged goodbyes and headed out of Mina’s house hand in hand with the love of your life. You had such a great time at Mina’s place that you had completely forgotten about the fact that Jaehyun had other plans for the two of you. It was close to sunset time, so the view from the Namsan tower is going to be great.

Jaehyun was quiet on the drive over, so you just assumed he was tired from entertaining a toddler all afternoon. 

“Did you have a good time?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes I did. They’re such nice people and that baby is the cutest thing in the world.” He says, smiling at the memory of the toddler.

“Minjun is the cutest thing ever.” You agreed, proud of how cute your nephew is.

“Our baby is going to be cuter though.” Jaehyun says absentmindedly, eyes still focused on the road.

He did not know the impact his words have on you because even though things are going great right now, you did not know if he saw more of a future with you. But with what he just said, it’s clear to you that he does see a future with you and that made you so happy you felt like you were going to cry again. 

Jaehyun must have sensed your inner turmoil because he grabbed your hand and gave you a light squeeze, the action alone letting you know how he felt.

The image of a mini Jaehyun running around filled your mind and it’s all you wanted now. No matter how long it will take to get there, you could not wait to have his children.

You finally arrived at Namsan tower and you were delighted to see that there weren't a lot of people around. You got there at the perfect time because it's almost sunset and by the time you get to the top of the tower the view will be spectacular.

Once again Jaehyun was a little quiet but that did not bother you because you were happy to be there with him, hand in hand. 

“Wow, it’s so beautiful.” You say, admiring the view of the city from such a high point.

“Let’s buy a lock to put on the railing.” Jaehyun suggests, making you clap your hands in excitement like a little girl.

He lets you choose the lock and since you were feeling cheesy, you got a heart shaped one. Jaehyun smiled in approval of your choice in lock and said that he wanted to write on it. You pouted playfully, saying that you wanted to write on it but Jehyun just stuck his tongue out at you and said he was going to because he paid for it. You rolled your eyes but complied, thinking his behavior was rather endearing. After writing on the lock, he grabs your hand and leads you back outside to the railing.

“Here you go, why don’t you place it on the railing?” He asks, placing the lock in your hand with the inscription facing down.

“Sure!” You agree, excited to be able to choose where it goes. 

You walk up to the railing and intently look around to find the perfect spot for your lock. You can feel Jaehyun behind you but you paid no attention as you looked for a spot. Once you found it, you quickly placed your lock and then you remembered that in your excitement you never read the inscription that Jaehyun wrote. You grab the lock and flip it over, stunned by what you saw. It was his initials plus your initials and underneath it was a drawing of a ring. You were confused as to what that meant and the second you turned around to ask him, it all made sense. Jaehyun was down on one knee, giving you a smile that made your heart stop.

“My beautiful darling. I know we have had our ups and downs and the time spent apart was unbearable for me. I’m so happy that we have a second chance and I don’t want it to ever end. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” He asks, opening the small velvet box you didn’t realize he was holding. In the box there was a gorgeous ring that sparkled under the light of the sunset. It was a gorgeous oval diamond on a plain light gold band. You were so mesmerized by it that you forgot where you were and what was happening in front of you, but thanks to the sounds of camera shutters going off you were able to come back to. You look back at Jaehyun’s face, seeing the love and hopefulness in his eyes, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Are you serious?” You whisper, throat closed off with tears.

“Yes my love.” He chuckles, his own heart racing a mile a minute.

“Yes. Of course I do.” You sob, tears running down your face as Jaehyun puts the ring on your finger with shaky hands. He stands up and embraces you in a hug, kissing the tear stains from your cheeks. You pulled apart when you heard the cheering of the people around you and you felt your cheeks heat up due to the PDA.

“Let’s go, I have another surprise.” Jaehyun says, taking your hand.

“Oh god, I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises today.” You giggle, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sure you’ll love this one.” He says, giving you a peck on your lips.

“More than being engaged to you? I hardly believe that.”  You quip, admiring the gorgeous ring on your finger. 

“So, when did you decide to propose to me?” You ask once you were back in his car and on your way to the next location.

“It was when I helped you get groceries that first time in New York.” He says, giving you a sly smile.

“What?!” But we had barely known each other!” You say, not understanding that it could have been that moment.

“I  know, but I had never felt about anyone the way I felt about you the second I saw you. I hoped that you’d end up loving me the way I love you.” He says, reaching over and grabbing your hand, squeezing it slightly.

“I love you.” You say, squeezing his hand as well. “When did you get the ring?” You ask, trying to figure out that fact.

“Well, I actually bought it when I went to Connecticut to visit my old friends. I wanted it to be a surprise and I figured I could kill two birds with one stone.” He explains, laughing at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Really? Were you going to propose to me in the states?” You ask, completely surprised by this new information.

“Yes. Actually do you remember the dinner date we had when you told me that Namjoon wanted you to come back to Korea? I was going to propose to you that night but the news sort of ruined my plan.” He explains.

You stare at him in complete shock, his odd behavior from that time now making a lot of sense. He was so nervous about asking you to marry him that he was acting strange so he would not lose his nerves.

“So you just held on to the ring this whole time?” You ask, voice cracking with emotion.

“Yes. I knew that we were going to end up together no matter what. I was ready to wait as long as necessary if it meant we were going to end up together.” He says, a small blush caressing his beautiful face. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you looked out the window, not wanting Jaehyun to see the tears welling up in your eyes.

You were so immersed in your conversation that you had not been paying attention to the route to your next destination.

“Wait. Are we going back to Mina’s house?” You ask, noticing the familiar streets passing you by.

“Nope.” He says with a smirk but offers no other information.

The mystery is killing you but now that you are engaged to him, you trust him more than you did before; you trust him with your life and you know that whatever he has up his sleeve is going to be worth it.

“Here we are.” Jaehyun says, parking on the street in front of some cute starter homes.

“What are we doing here?” You ask, confused as to what is going on as you get out of the car.

“You’ll see.” He says, taking your hand and walking up the path to one of the houses.

Was he going to introduce you to his parents? Right now? But you wanted to look more presentable when you met his family! And you don’t even have a gift prepared for them! They’re going to think you have no manners and won’t want you as their daughter-in-law!

Before you could spiral even further, Jaehyun opened the front door to the house and guided you in. 

“Are your parents not home?” You ask, noticing the quiet and dark house. The only light was coming from a soft light that was on in the kitchen, but that was enough to see the interior of the house. It was very clean and simple, more of a minimalist style of decor but still cozy. 

“This is not my parents home.” He says, walking in further into the house and turning on the light, illuminating the place.

You look at him confused because if it’s not his parents house then whose house is it?

Jaehyun chuckles at your expression and takes your face in his hands, placing a quick kiss to your lips.

“This is our house. I bought it for us”  He says, arms outstretched to emphasize his point.

“But… but… our...what...huh?” You sputter, at a loss for words for the second time today. “When? When did you…” You trailed off, looking around the house in awe. 

“Remember that time right before we… we separated, how I spent a lot of time at my place instead of yours?” He asks, not really liking to talk about that time you two broke up.

“Yeah….” You trail off, also hating the memory.

“Well the reason I was spending time apart was because I was in the process of buying this house. I was on a lot of phone calls and video calls with my family and realtor agents, looking for a house. I wanted it to be a surprise so that’s why I spend so much time at my place. Even though I put my proposal on a halt, I bought the house because I planned on moving to Korea with you. I wanted to be with you no matter what.” Jaehyun explains, your heart hammering in your chest at his explanation. He did all this to be with you? Gosh you had messed up so badly but you were eternally grateful that you got this second chance. 

“Is that why you wouldn’t invite me to stay at your place” You ask, the pieces finally coming together.

“Yes.” He chuckles, feeling guilty for being so evasive with you. “I wanted to make sure that the place was clean and ready for when I finally brought you over here.” Jaehyun explains

“You sly guy.” You say, hugging your fiance and reeling at the fact that all this is happening. The proposal, the house, everything. He was yours and that was not going to change, ever. He is the love of your life and he will become your family, and you were going to be together forever. And that’s more than enough.

A/N: Omg its over now! Thank you so much to all of you that have been here since day 1, your support and feedback were my driving force to keep writing! I’m sad that it’s over but you all made this whole process so enjoyable! I was thinking of doing like a little spin off one shot showing their married life but idk. Let me know if that’s something you guys would be in to! 

Previous                                                           Next

[bard-llama]

Would you ever write in epistolary format?

My creative writing teachers would be so sad that I had to google that, but for any people like me, this means written in a document format, such as letters.

And the answer is definitely yes! I actually have a WiP I started waaaaaaaay back for rorveth that is sorta this, although I was torn on if I wanted it to be just letters or letters interspersed with POV exposition. But I looooove letter fics. Like, one of my most memorable fics I've written was back in like 2010 and I named it after Joe Cocker's song "Oh My Baby, He Wrote Me A Letter". This was for the BBC Merlin fandom, so not sure that's interesting to anyone, but I really remember that one, for some reason. And letters are FUN to write!

Just 'cause, here's the beginning of the letters WiP I started for rorveth (appropriately titled 'letters' XD).

The first letter arrived in an unremarkable fashion, just one more piece of parchment on the already messy desk of Vernon Roche, the new Imperial Administrator of the Vassal State of Temeria. After everything he’d fought for, he’d certainly never expected to be stuck behind a desk. The one saving grace of the job was that Ves was still his right-hand-woman and when she got tired of the paperwork, no one told her to put the knife away.

Then again, it would take a very brave man to challenge Ves, and Roche had yet to see any do so successfully.

But the letter – it was entirely mundane, nothing noteworthy about it whatsoever. From the outside, anyway. Roche wasn’t even sure which aide had left it on his desk when. But when he picked up the letter and flipped it over to break the seal, he noticed that the wax had a flower pressed into it, some sort of blue blossom that he didn’t recognize. Roche’s brow furrowed. What an odd choice for a seal.

Things only got stranger when he cut through the wax and read the letter itself. It was only one word: Kingslayer.

Roche stiffened. If this was a threat, it was an effective one. Not that Radovid was the first king he’d killed, but King Henselt had long since passed into memory in the quickly-changing political landscape of the north.

Realistically, if someone knew about their plot against Radovid, there was little they could do with it. Roche had no doubt that Emperor Emhyr was already very aware of Roche’s actions – Nilfgaard’s spies were impressive, and that was about all he could say in support of the empire – and the fucker had made Roche head of Temeria anyway. It wouldn’t be great if the people of Temeria found out about it, but Radovid had never been a true ally. Besides, if word did get out and he was removed from office, he would finally be able to get back in the field.

Please? he absentmindedly sent the prayer to whatever deity might be paying attention. Nilfgaard had different gods than the Northern Kingdoms did, and Roche had seen so much of war that it was hard to believe there could be any higher being out there, but at some point, it had become habit to frame the thoughts he wasn’t supposed to have as prayers.

He flipped the letter over to look at the wax seal again. Who the fuck would send him a threat – was it a threat? – and seal it with a flower?

Actually, that was a stupid question. The real question was why would the elf reach out to him at all? Roche hadn’t had contact with the Scoia’tael since Loc Muinne, when Temeria’s future was essentially handed to Nilfgaard and suddenly all that mattered was protecting his homeland. He hadn’t – well, he hadn’t exactly told Iorveth that he was abandoning the fight against nonhumans to fight against Nilfgaard (for all the good that had done), but he had seen the elf only once since then. Iorveth had left the very clear impression that it would be the last time.

In retrospect, Roche could see how being told that “the only thing that matters is Temeria” might be insulting to someone who had been fighting for a free elven state for decades. Nonetheless, he couldn’t take the words back and from the way Iorveth’s face had gone cold and stony the moment the words had left Roche’s mouth, and the way Iorveth had turned and left without a word – well, Roche had honestly assumed that the elf was done with him.

He’d ignored the complicated way he felt about that for years, but now suddenly, Iorveth’s decision to reach out – is that what this was? – had his mind going back to that day. He’d been in so much pain at the time, the loss of his men and his own treasonous actions fresh in his thoughts and weighing down on him. Iorveth had found him packing up his camp on his way back to Vizima, catching Roche entirely by surprise.

If he’d been less off balance then, would things have gone differently? At the time, he hadn’t known the hole Iorveth’s absence would leave in his life, the aching sense of being adrift without a sense of purpose, without the thing whose opposition had defined him. He had always been Vernon Roche, Commander of the Blue Stripes, Authority on all Nonhuman Affairs. And even after he’d become Vernon Roche, Freedom Fighter, he’d never quite adjusted the definition of himself, never quite learned how to be Roche without Iorveth on the other side of his coin.

Maybe that was why Iorveth was reaching out. Maybe he felt the same, felt aimless and pointless now that Nilfgaard had taken over everything and nonhumans were given the same respect and rights as humans. Maybe Iorveth was also stuck behind some desk, fingers that were meant to hold a sword cramping around a too-delicate quill.

Roche shook his head and then rubbed his face. If he let his thoughts continue in that direction, he’d be too miserable to get anything done. What he needed was a quick break to splash some water on his face and then to get back to work. Because even if Roche was a remnant of a bygone age, Temeria was still everything, and he would serve his homeland however he was needed. Even if it slowly killed him inside.

When he returned to his desk, the letter still sat there innocently, words face-down because he wasn’t that careless. But that meant he was faced with the little blue flower pressed into white wax. It was actually rather pretty, though only an elf would do a ridiculous thing like seal a letter with one.

He should throw it away or burn it or otherwise dispose of the letter that named his crime, but instead, Roche found himself filing it in his desk, hidden under a stack of parchment. He could always get rid of it later.

––

The next letter arrived about a week later. As soon as Roche saw that little blue flower seal, his heart started to beat faster and he reached for it immediately. He broke the wax and unfolded the letter to find that this time, Iorveth hadn’t limited himself to one word. Instead, he’d filled the parchment with his oddly shaky handwriting and when Roche lifted it to his nose, he could catch the faint herbal scent of gin underneath the sweet floral smell. If Iorveth had been drinking while writing, it would certainly explain the bad handwriting. But why would Iorveth drunkenly write him, of all people?

He bit his lip and wondered where Iorveth was now. Even if he knew and tried to respond, he wouldn’t know what to say to Iorveth after all this time. He couldn’t regret the decisions he’d made, as fruitless as they may have ended up being. Being Temerian was such a core part of his identity that Roche could never have done anything else.

Still, he almost feared what Iorveth may have written in his inebriated state. It wasn’t as if the elf hadn’t insulted him extensively to his face. Why should he care if the same words made their way onto this parchment?

But he did care. Their last meeting had broken something deep inside him, something he wasn’t ready to examine yet. He would rather be faced with the memory of Iorveth turning away from him, face blank, and never saying a word as he left for the very last time, than to know that even now, Iorveth’s hatred for Roche sustained him.

Roche himself was just too tired for hate anymore. Maybe that was the point of this ridiculous administrative role – to make him so exhausted and docile that he was no longer a threat. Roche wouldn’t put it past Emhyr to plan such a thing.

Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and read the letter.

I wonder if it still brings you pride, to know that you’ve won. The Scoia’tael are no more. My men are gradually being reintroduced into society – Nilfgaardian society, of course. The same Nilfgaard that declared us traitors and tried to assassinate us after the Peace of Cintra. It makes me sick to bear the Golden Sun on my armor, and yet, my men are finally free or as close as we will ever get. I should be happy – the Scoia’tael are no more because there is no longer a need for us.

So why do I wish we were still in the forests outside Flotsam, fighting a never ending bloody battle?

It ended like that, abruptly, though from the link blots below the last words, Roche suspected Iorveth had debated saying more.

What was he supposed to do with this? What good was the knowledge that Iorveth was just as miserable as he was, just as desperate for a return to when things made sense and the lines between this side and that one were clear?

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 13 OF 22

The sadness of rivers is their aimlessness. Though the edge of the world invites them, they refuse to go beyond themselves.

- "The Sadness of Rivers", Maurya Simon

 --

We’ll be able to rent a decent space with the amount, Theo had said.

It was never a we, though. Renting a space, holding an exhibit, submitting it for consideration for graduation requirements—those were all Theo’s ideas. The pool of money for it? All Theo’s—little bits saved from work, those that didn’t go to rent or food or his own needs. Sure, Vincent paid the bulk of everything, bills, groceries, he did part-time too, but for his own little artistic show? No. That was all Theo.

Theo always had good ideas. Somehow, he’s gotten it into his head that all his ideas are good, if his brother was part of it. Because Vincent is always a good idea to him.

But what about Vincent?

--

Their little study session ended way later than she thought it would.

Well, it wouldn’t have, if Dazai hadn’t spent a particularly astonishing amount of time picking at Isaac for bringing an apple pie to share—“It’s because of your stupid jokes! Now I get gifted nothing but apple things! Commiserate, at least!” “Oh, you don’t have to, Ai-chan.” “Dazai!”—but no matter. One apologetic text message to Theo later, she’s on her way to his apartment instead, to drop off the book she’d promised to lend him. An extra one, besides the one for their book exchange, because you can never have too many books. She would have gone to the bookstore, but at this time it’s already closed, and Theo’s already left to go do some groceries on the other end of town.

One thing about being close with the van Gogh brothers is that now, she can just drop in and out of their house unannounced. Theo will act irritable, as he always does, but he doesn’t really mind. Vincent is always pleasantly surprised. And when their little rented apartment is right in the middle of their small town, it’s just the right spot to hang out and crash.

(A great piece of information for her, and a terrible discovery for Theo.)

Maybe I should go in and chat with Vincent a little, she thinks, as she rounds the corner to the familiar house. Wait, no, Theo said he spends the late hours of the day painting. I shouldn’t bother. I’ll just drop this in the mailbox and tell Theo.

But the slightly-opened front door takes her by surprise.

Not open intentionally, to let the last rays of the sun enter the inside of the house, but just left a tiny bit ajar, as if it had been pulled on too lightly, the door not touching the frame, the lock not clicking into place. From the outside, she notices that all the lights inside are shut off, leaving most of the living room in unnerving darkness.

Vincent doesn’t like the darkness.

She knows because Theo told her.

“Vincent?” she cautiously calls out, gently swinging open the creaky gate door. No response. She pushes it back to place and takes careful steps up the open door, getting nervous with every crunch of snow. “Vincent? It’s me.”

Her hand hovers over the doorknob hesitantly, but then she grasps it and pushes the door open. True enough, the lights in the main area of the house are all turned off; the curtains are drawn; at 5:00pm, there’s barely enough light to see the silhouettes of the furniture.

“Vincent?”

She hears a sniffle.

A small one; hushed and guilty; as if it hadn’t meant to be heard.

Her heart breaks.

“…Vincent?”

She closes the door behind her, doing her best to keep it as silent as possible. The kitchen and dining area are empty, but the door to the studio is open just a peek. She puts the book bag gently onto the couch and then heads toward it. She doesn’t want to spook him; doesn’t want him to be scared of her; she just wants to be there right now. So as she walks down the hallway, she makes sure her footsteps are even, but not heavy. Prepares him for her arrival—tells him that she’s not there to harm him.

But it’s her that’s not ready for the sight she sees.

Vincent and Theo rent a small home in the middle of the university town. It’s not the biggest, but it’s still rather grand for only a pair of brothers sharing it. The most frugal of students could perhaps fit eight people in this house if there were four double-bunk beds with two bunks in each room.

But Vincent needs the art space.

The studio is the bigger one of the two rooms, and it doubles as Vincent’s working space and a small library, with small shelves of the brothers’ books.

The studio is Vincent’s holy place. This is where he spends most of his day when he’s painting indoors, perfecting what he’d started elsewhere. One entire wall of the studio room has been decked out with a ridiculously large corkboard, from which Vincent hangs all sorts of things, sketches and studies and inspiration. This is his art room. This is his safe space.

It doesn’t look like that anymore.

The corkboard has been pulled out of its place on the wall. Small cans and tubes of paint have spilled all over the wooden floor, making it into a multicolored mess, much of it having missed the protective newspapers. A multitude of papers are now unrecognizable, torn up, scattered around the room. The studio light Vincent was so proud of lies sideways on the farther end of the room, its bulb perhaps shattered.

And Vincent sits in the middle of the room, like a survivor amongst the chaos.

Sobbing.

Head in his hands, curled up in fetal position, pulling at his hair.

Hoarse.

“Vincent…”

Where should one begin?

Theo had told her about it. The reason his brother couldn’t finish his last project; why he couldn’t get past all this. The mood swings. The crippling strength of it. The way it turned him upside down, made everything impossible—sleeping, eating. And much less making art.

The cracks.

Vincent looks up at her like he’s been to hell and back; his eyes hollow.

The way he calls out her name as if it’ll break on his tongue.

She knows that expression.

She’s seen that somewhere before.

In a face more familiar.

Like in a mirror.

Making sure not to make much noise, stepping around the paint cans, she finds her way next to Vincent, and he scoots a little to afford her some space on the only dry, unstained bit of newspaper in the whole room. She’s sure her black skirt is still going to have some mad red stain on the butt, and for sure also the soles of her shoes, but that doesn’t matter right now.

What matters is Vincent.

They spend a long, quiet moment together, one minute bleeding into two, three, four. She keeps track of time with the tick-tock of the analog clock across the room, its glow in the dark clock hands proving useful in the quickly seeping night. At the five-minute mark, Vincent has laid his head on her shoulder, the golden mop of his hair ticklish against her cheek.

“Want to talk?”

Vincent doesn’t speak at first. When he finally does, it sounds like he’s pulling out his voice from somewhere deep in him. Like he’s doing his best—the way he always does. “Theo might come home soon.”

“I’ll send him away,” she says, taking her phone out of her pocket. Vincent stares at the screen just long enough for her to type [ don’t come home yet ] before he turns away. She quickly follows up with [ get something nice for Vincent, but DON’T come home yet. tell u later ] before putting her phone face-down on her thigh.

As if to tell Vincent, the world is quiet now. No one will reach us here. It’s just you, me, and this room.

You’re safe here.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, gesturing at the stack of paintings on the other end of the room. The paintings he’d been making for his project. The exhibition Theo has been looking forward to. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

When Vincent puts down his hands, she sees they’re ink-stained, like they always are. But they look different. Thinner. Has he not been eating? She tries to remember how much of Vincent she’s seen recently. How he looks much more tired.

“Did something happen?”

“I happened,” he says, with a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “Theo should stop working so hard for me when I can never get this right. I should just drop out.”

She’s under a different unit, being a literature major, but she and Vincent technically are in the same college—the College of Arts. Sure, she’s in the Department of Humanities and he’s in Fine Arts, but still. She hasn’t been there long, but Vincent has, and he’s become some sort of legend in their already-small department. The genius, they call him, the prodigy; so many of his previous paintings hang in the dean’s hall to serve as an inspiration to current students.

But he had a problem—he couldn’t seem to finish his bigger projects. Couldn’t see his ideas to the end. The paintings get completed, but the entire collection never comes to shape. They’re always only shattered parts of a whole dream of his—a dream that everyone in the department is sure to be beautiful, but cannot rightly prove, because they never become real.

And so Vincent has never made it out of there.

She considers the correct things to say. The right ones, the factual things. Like how he shouldn’t drop out, actually, because he’s actually good. Like how he does have a vision, it’s just a matter of discipline and having faith in it. Like how everyone is watching him—not because he’s a failure, but because he’s so much greater than he thinks.

But then she considers better things to be heard.

The ones she would have wanted to hear.

“Art block?” she prods.

He shakes his head. “I wish it were.”

She nods, careful not to stir him. “It just doesn’t make sense, huh?”

He squeezes his hands into fists so hard, his knuckles turn white. She wants to take them in hers and unclench them, but she knows better. She counts the seconds. In half a minute, he releases them.

“I can’t get it right. It seems alright, and then I get midway through, and then everything crumbles. I’m not good enough for what I can see. For what I want to do.”

Who ever is, though?

She bites her cheek. “What are you afraid of?”

“Letting him down.”

She’d heard the story, but from Arthur, instead of Theo. That Theo was a star-student, gunning for honors. If he hadn’t stopped, if he hadn’t taken a break, he would have had higher chances of getting better awards. But after Vincent failed his first attempt at setting up an exhibition, Theo requested to take lower academic loads for the meantime, allowing him to get a job and to support Vincent. Theo could risk it because while Vincent’s scholarship didn’t cover the costs of an extra year—Theo’s did.

But he’d also lost precious starting years for that.

Which may not amount to much in the long run, but at the moment—it’s all they have.

Their youth.

And Vincent was taking it from Theo.

At least, that is how he sees it.

She knows for sure that’s not how Theo sees it.

She’s 100% sure.

But when in a place like this, a lot of times, what’s true doesn’t matter much—not when you’re chest-deep into the truth you’d made yourself believe already.

There’s no convincing Vincent out of this.

Only sitting next to him.

“What do you need help with?”

An artist to an artist.

“How do you just… keep going?”

She turns to him, his head still on her shoulder. Contemplates for a moment, then presses her cheek against the mop of sunflower-yellow hair. “I’m scared of stopping.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like if I stay in a place too long, I’ll get trapped there,” she says. “It looks like motivation, but it’s not. It’s fear. It is, and always has been.”

Silence, again. But only the kind of silence between two people who understand what lingers in between the words. “Why are you afraid?”

“This place hasn’t been kind to me.”

He reaches out, puts a hand on her knee. A wordless I know what that means.

To be taught art in such a rigid institution is always a privilege, an honor, a badge that says, “I am trained for this”, but it also gets very choking. Very prescriptive—that this is what art is. That this is the minimum of what it should be. In many ways, it stops the very art it wants to cultivate from really flourishing.

Vincent finally breaks the silence. “I’m the opposite. I don’t think I’m ready to go away.”

To send him off—that had been Theo’s dream. To lend his brother wings. He’s always seen what Vincent is capable of, even when his older brother hides behind his fear of the rest of the world, of their eyes on him.

“You’re afraid he’s investing it all on you, but then you won’t be able to give him a good return.”

He hums in agreement, but does not clarify, does not expound. The clock on the other end of the room ticks for what feels like an eternity, as they weigh their words. The sun is long out of the sky. The only sources of light in the room are the clock’s glow-in-the-dark hands and a streetlight across the road; the room is awash in weak gold.

“I want to create something that will matter, to be fair to him. But I can’t. I haven’t ever been able to. I’m wasting both of our times.”

The confession is heavy in his lips and she can feel it. How hard it was to say it. How long he’d been waiting to put it out there, instead of carrying it around. There’s a certain relief when one admits a fault—one that can quickly be lost into its consequences, but a relief nonetheless.

“Whose definition of mattering are you using, Vincent?”

It’s the boldest question she’s ever dared ask tonight, the sharpest of all the knives, but there’s no getting around this: it’s one that needs to be asked. And Vincent knows that, too, if the way he doesn’t flinch or react to it is any clue. He knew it was coming.

Maybe he’d even been asking it to himself on his own, too.

He sits up, as if maintaining any sort of physical contact with her is too much. She takes no offense at it. Clutching his arms against his torso, he answers feebly, “The rest of world’s.” The art world’s. The real world’s. The out there which won’t be as gentle to his art as this small studio room, as his brother.

She takes a deep breath, letting the answer linger in the quiet. The longer it remains there unrefuted, the more and more it sounds silly. Who decides the standards? Who decides what’s art? Who are they to decide on this?

And just like before, there are better things to say, of course. But a good friend doesn’t only coddle. They nurture. And sometimes, nurturing isn’t pretty.

Isn’t gentle.

“The art department… they’re nuts,” she begins, and it gets a small burst of sympathetic laughter from Vincent. “They’re always dreaming up of this or that. I don’t know where our professors get it, but they’re always looking out for something better out there. Even if the ones we currently have and do are pretty alright as it is.”

Vincent nods, but does not answer.

“You know the multimedia arts room? That was the most ambitious project of all. And it seemed great at the start, to have this specific area that said we have to collaborate or else. The film students took all the writing majors who were good at screenplays and just attempted to make whatever came to mind.” She takes a deep breath. “You remember what resulted out of that?”

He nods again. “The film showing last Christmas.”

“Yes! The film showing last Christmas!” She says, laughing as she goes. “They weren’t supposed to show the films, but all the shooting caused such a hubbub about it… the others wanted to see what happened, of course. So the student council set up a film showing, which the head of the department wanted to block.”

“They said the students didn’t get permission.”

“Yes, that’s what they said. But they did! Then they said the films weren’t qualified for showing, weren’t up to standards, but when the students argued, the department had to back off because there weren’t any valid standards to begin with, except ‘if the Head enjoys it.’” She closes her eyes, memories of last year coming back. “And the film students didn’t even have to lift a finger. It was everyone else who was curious about what they’re doing who got it all running. And so everyone who stayed here watched it anyway, the morning before Christmas, and it was such a hit they had to send it to experimental film festivals and—they won.”

“Mmhmm.” The meaning sinks in as Vincent listens. He leans back toward her shoulder.

She lets him stay there silently for a few breaths, before asking, “You get what I’m saying, don’t you?”

And in a soft voice, he begs, “Tell me anyway?”

So she does. “A lot of us will never be satisfied with what we do. I’m never satisfied with what I do. And I’m sure you know that feeling, too.” she sighs. “We’re so engrossed in getting that thing in our heads right, when they come out of our hands, that—we rarely see how closely we’ve come from the nothing they come from. We both always start with blank canvases, Vincent.”

She sees him clench his fists, then release them.

“And maybe we’ll never be content with what we do, but they’ll still be art. If not to us, then to someone else. And there will always be someone,” she says. “I’ll always think your work is art. I’ll always think it matters.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. Tries to not make it obvious that he’s crying. Tries not to make the sleeve of her shirt damp.

“And Theo will always think your work is art. I know because he never stops talking about it. And maybe—maybe the Theo in your head will say it doesn’t matter, but to the real Theo? It will.” She gently pats his head. At this point, she’s half-talking to herself but she goes anyway, saying, “You’re allowed to change your mind in the middle, you’re allowed to abandon what you do not love anymore but—you’re also entirely allowed to continue to love something even when others do not think it is good enough. Even when you think it isn’t good enough, because sometimes… that feeling just is.” She takes a deep breath. “And sometimes the thing you love, the thing you make, it won’t be as good as the last one. Sometimes it’ll be shit. But it’ll still be a step forward, you know? It still contributes to the bigger ecosystem of all the art ever created. Maybe you’re scared of what you’re going to make, that you won’t be enough for it, that you won’t be able to give it justice, but—you’re the only one who can give it to life the way you can.”

Vincent laughs, the small, amused laugh he usually makes, and this time, it feels lighter than any from earlier that evening. He doesn’t hide the next sniffle he makes, or try to be discreet about wiping his eyes. “Has Theo been making you read his philosophy books?”

She groans. “Yes, I feel like I ended up on the losing end of a bargain.”

He laughs, finally getting back to sitting up. “Well, your poetry books have certainly made him more colorful now, if that’s any comfort.”

“Colorful?” she turns to him. “What does that mean?”

But Vincent only shrugs, that very maddening van Gogh evasion that she’s long gotten used to, just with a different person. But that’s okay. What matters is Vincent is here now. She presses the warm palm of her hand over the back of Vincent’s, and they stay there, in comfortable silence, for a few more recuperative minutes.

--

She messages Theo, and he’s at the door in three minutes. There’s surprise written on her face but she doesn’t prod, at least not now, as Vincent emerges from the room. She and Theo share a look at each other in understanding: not right now.

It’s heavy and hard to swallow but Theo knows that she’s right. He does his best to swallow down all his questions, as he sees his brother’s red-rimmed eyes, the tenderness of the smile on Vincent’s face. Instead, Theo focuses on the things he can do—it’s his turn now. He serves the still-warm pancakes from Vincent’s favorite shop as Vincent’s appetizer. When the silence begins to thicken, he switches up the banter with her, throwing biting phrases (softened with their mutual understanding) at each other like they’re hot, Vincent unable to keep up with his little reprimands. Theo cooks up an actual meal for the three of them from whatever is in the fridge—and it turns out to be fish, which isn’t his best dish, but it turns out edible anyway, so that’s what matters.

Theo gives her the bigger slice like an unsaid thank-you, and she raises a biteful in his direction in acknowledgment.

When they’re done eating, Vincent turns to Theo as he’s bringing their plates to the kitchen sink. “You should walk her home, Theo,” he says. “It’s late and too dangerous to go alone.”

It’s just eight o’clock, which isn’t exactly that late, but there’s no arguing with Vincent when he goes full big-brother mode. Theo knows that, too.

Instead, Theo says: “Where’s your bike?”

“I lent it to Dazai,” she answers, cringing just a little bit. “Just today, too.”

So after exchanging thanks for the meals and good nights—and a full, tight, caring hug for Vincent, for good measure—she and Theo are already on their way to her apartment building, walking down familiar streets only lit by lamps and the moonlight.

Once they’ve turned the corner, she finally speaks.

“I know you want to ask me about it, but I don’t think I can.”

Theo instantly relaxes—a held breath let go, one he didn’t know he was holding until she had spoken. “It didn’t feel right to ask.”

“It doesn’t feel right to say, either,” she says. “Just… be there for him, okay? I know you’re looking out for him and that’s why you’re doing all this, but you have to be there too.”

Theo doesn’t need to answer for her to know that he will do as he’s asked.

It’s a 20-minute walk from the brothers’ house to hers, and Theo is prepared to only share silence with her the rest of the way. He has nothing to say, nothing to ask, just here to give her the least bit of thanks he can for being there for his brother when he wasn’t. A part of him is panicking about leaving Vincent alone at home. But a larger part of him wants to be here, a foot away from her, like being in her presence might just be enough to clear his head, to help him consider what he has to do.

When they get to the main boulevard at the halfway point, she speaks while they wait to cross the street.

“I can’t tell you what Vincent said, but I can tell you what I think.”

The pedestrian sign turns green.

“Anything,” Theo says, suddenly out of breath. She starts to walk ahead of him and he tries to catch up.

She doesn’t speak for a while, as if rearranging the words in her head. When she finally does, she’s walking next to him so she can give him a proper look in the eye. The feeling of her gaze on his makes Theo feel a little more vulnerable than he would have liked.

“I think… sometimes, even when you have the best in mind… it can read different,” she says softly. “It might feel like you’re saying it’s what you expect. Like you’re saying it’s what you deserve out of it.”

Theo bites back the denial bitterly building on his tongue.

“You’re a cheerleader, not a strategizer.” She turns away from him. “The battle is on the fighter. If they lose, they already face the sting of the loss—they don’t need to carry the excess guilt of disappointing you.”

Theo takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Punching him lightly on the shoulder, she says with a smile, “You ought to talk to Vincent.”

“How do I talk to him about this?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes even the worst of talking makes the difference, you know? Good difference though.”

Theo hums in agreement.

They walk the last five minutes of the journey idly, pointing at different things they pass by and talking about something or other. Theo has an answer for every comment like he hadn’t just walked out of a situation that made his view of her change altogether. Like he still feels a little raw from how succinctly she’d held his heart in her hands and told him how he could do better. Like he wasn’t still sitting on the look on Vincent’s face when he arrived, the recognition that she could see through Vincent as he could.

Something is changing.

So when they finally get to the front door of her building, he is eager to go and sit alone in his thoughts. Theo mutters a small “Good night” and turns around to leave when her hand encircles around his wrist before he can go any further.

He turns. “What is it?”

“Your brother is the world to you, isn’t he?”

She asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer. Used to Arthur’s teasing, Theo bristles. “And if he is?”

Her grasp on his wrist loosens; she holds his shaking hand in hers gently. “I just wanted to make sure you know that he’s lucky to have someone as constant as you around,” she says—and then, before Theo can say anything else, she lets go. “Thank you for dinner, see you soon,” she bids goodbye while having already turned away, already going up the stairs.

Theo would have wanted to have something to say, but nothing dares come out of his likely traitorous mouth.

Instead, he looks down at his now-steady hands.

Lets the warm feeling settle in his stomach.

And the fear that comes with it.

Oh, he says, in his mind, as it clicks.

Oh no.

He sighs.

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars: The Clone Wars: “Old Friends Not Forgotten” -Review

The years awaited finale to Star Wars: The Clone Wars explodes onto screen in a fantastically cinematic episode that ranks as the best of the season and one of the strongest installments of the series.

(Review contains episode spoilers)

The Clone Wars are raging. The Jedi and their loyal clones are sent out to the far reaches of the galaxy to fend off a wave of invasions by General Grievous. Midway through the defense of the planet Yerbana, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi receive word from Ahsoka Tano and her new Mandalorian allies that Maul might be finally vulnerable to capture. With a limited window of time, the plea is made for the Republic to assist in a siege of the Mandalorian capital of Sundari. However, when a surprise attack is made on the planet of Coruscant, Obi-Wan and Anakin must make a difficult decision about loyalty.

Wow. Any concerns about the potential aimlessness of this final season of The Clone Wars are more or less evaporated in this thrilling half hour of television. Never before has Star Wars animation seemed more cinematic and confident than in “Old Friends Not Forgotten.” From the first frame that opens up with the classic Lucasfilm logo to the sweeping musical score to the fantastically layered and complex action sequences, The Clone Wars finale feels like an experience meant to be on part with the most grand of the franchise’s big screen counterparts. There is quite simply nothing else like this and the idea that we are only one fourth into this final adventure is nothing less than thrilling.

There’s quite simply just so much to talk about in “Old Friends Not Forgotten.” It feels like an intense labor of love from all involved and not a moment is wasted in the episode’s extended runtime. Dave Filoni’s script is perfectly paced, tonally varied, and emotionally nuanced.

On its most basic level, it’s impressive how much the set up and execution of The Siege of Mandalore really does feel like the culmination of the series’ many different themes and plotlines. It’s an organic amalgamation of everything that has come before and feels surprisingly more inevitable than you would expect. It’s honestly an impressively large amount of storytelling ground to cover as The Siege of Mandalore not only has to offer closure to Ahsoka’s story arc, but also Maul’s, Mandalore’s, and Anakin and Obi-Wan’s, while also tying into arguably the darkest point in Star Wars history.

It’s ultimately Ahsoka that ends up being the star here and rightfully so. Filoni smartly positions her as fully jaded of the Jedi’s role in the war and galactic politics and her support for Bo-Katan and her people feels born out of a want to help the needy and to direct her talents and powers to those that actually need her assistance (even if her determination to assist Bo-Katan still feels a tad flimsy). It’s a smart evolution of her story arc and seeing her lead a crusade to help others independent of Anakin or the Republic feels like the right step for her character. It also creates an interesting hypocrisy in her. Anakin and Obi-Wan’s want for caution in assistance for Ahsoka’s mission to not only to protect existing treaties with Mandalore but to also make sure that they are available to help other planet’s in need like Coruscant, feels grounded in a certain logic that makes sense. Sure, Obi-Wan may be too cautious and may be slowly slipping away from the compassion that always defined his character, but their decision to play things careful feels logical. Ahsoka’s rejection may not be, but it’s fitting for her character. It makes sense that after her ordeals that she wouldn’t see the judgement of the Jedi Council to be worth a damn. There’s a recklessness to her resolve that feels classically in tune with her character even if she has evolved to a more capable role than ever. Considering what is about to happen, it could be argued that Ahsoka’s involvement could in fact have disastrous consequences for the people that she is trying to protect, but we will have to wait and see. Maybe, I’m reading too much into this. Who knows. Prove me right, Dave.

The entire sequence of Ahsoka’s reunion and bargaining with Anakin and Obi-Wan is some of the smartest writing and voice acting that this series has done. Obi-Wan’s pained defense of his feelings for Satine to Bo-Katan feels like the right culmination of his character here. He’s still a compassionate and human character, arguably more so than any of the other traditional Jedi, but at this point he’s as caught in the cogs of the Republic war machine as anyone. Anakin’s eager want for reconciliation carries an emotional heart to it that is hard not to fall for. This is a moment that he has been waiting for for some time and Matt Lanter sells Anakin’s bargaining for some kind of resolution between him and his former apprentice with intense sincerity. Considering the awful acts that are about to happen, there’s a heartbreaking tragedy hanging over it all. Perhaps most impressive is the nuanced emotional state given to Ahsoka. There’s definitely a want to reconnect with Anakin and his gestures of good will are accepted, but there is a hurt there that isn’t mended. Ashley Eckstein sells her dialogue here with a sense of reticence and conflict. She can recognize that there is a bond there between her and Anakin, but it’s not one that is going to heal anytime soon.

It also makes perfect sense that it would ultimately be Rex that Ahsoka feels the most comfortable with at this point. It’s easy to see Rex as playing as much as a conflicted role in the war as she is and his connection to the larger Republic institution or the Jedi Order is tertiary. There is a bond here that feels trusting and still strong and it’s sweet to see the affection between both characters.

The fact that director Saul Ruiz and Filoni allow so much time for this sort of character interaction is a testament to the stellar pacing in “Old Friends Not Forgotten.” It’s a smart sequence of scenes that offers much of the emotional closure and connective tissue that fans have been clamoring for for years.

If the first half of “Old Friends Not Forgotten” was heavy on character, Ruiz kicks into high gear with the second half. The raid on Mandalore contains some of the most spectacular and larger than life action that the show has ever realized. The airborn battle between Republic drop ships, Mandalorian starfighters, jet packed Bo-Katan loyalists versus Maul’s men, and Ahsoka hopping from ship to ship is complex and cluttered with moving parts. It could have easily been a chaotic mess, but the direction here is fluid and exciting. The scale and violence of the conflict is sold without sacrificing character and coherence and there is likely no moment more cheer worthy in this series than Ahsoka’s thrilling descent to the landing platforms of Sundari.

It’s also impressive just how much of the complex political situation on Mandalore is kept intact. I was almost worried that the delightfully slimy Prime Minister Almec or the loyally fluid Gar Saxon would sit this one out, but they get their time to shine just as much as our heroes. Given the context of past season’s stories on Mandalore and taking account the larger story of this planet in Rebels and The Mandalorian, it really feels like no balls were left in the air. This is a pivotal moment for many characters and factions in the history of the saga and it’s nice to see that none of this was brushed aside.

The only clunky area for “Old Friends Not Forgotten” is the handling of Maul’s larger scheme. While the idea that the Siege of Mandalore was developed as a last ditch effort to trap Obi-Wan to exact revenge is a smart twist in the overall narrative, it’s hard not to feel that there are some rough edges around the handling of Maul’s status at the start of this episode. There was really never going to be a way to explain away the events of the Son of Dathomir in the context of the series. Covering it in a traditional Clone Wars style recap would be clunky and unneeded and retconning it would do no good for anyone. For viewers of the show only, it basically reads that Palpatine arrived to stop Maul’s operation on this planet only for him to end up exactly where he started. It’s more than a little awkward and head scratching. Maybe we will get some descriptive dialogue somewhere down the line, but I can imagine some series only fans being more than a little put off by this development.

“Old Friends Not Forgotten” ends on one of the most thrilling cliffhangers in the history of the saga. There is quite simply so much at stake and given the absolutely stellar execution of this first chapter, it’s hard not to count the minutes until the next chapter drops. For all the awkward roads here and all of the tragedy that is about to follow, The Clone Wars looks to end on a high note. Thank goodness.

Score: A

[perhapsitmaybedragons]

God's a Right Bastard, but Then So Am I

Oh look, chapter 2 already! Odd for me.

If you prefer to read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633029/chapters/65005873

or keep reading below:

Newt sat back at the table, not noticing that his tea had grown cold. He couldn't figure out where to begin with his question, so he had swallowed it down since Crowley's party, but found that it kept repeating on him, trying to come up. Finally, he pushed the tea away and jumped up from his seat. “I thought we burned that book.” He hadn't meant it to be accusing, not really. But it still came out that way.

Anathema looked only slightly guilty. “We did.” He waited for her to continue, but she just turned back to chopping up the vegetables for dinner.

“Well?” he prodded.

She put the knife down and turned back toward him. “We did burn it. And...” now she looked truly guilty. “And I went back to where we burned it and there was one scrap left in the fire. You know Agnes had to have predicted that, right?” she didn't wait for an argument. “So I picked it up, and it's what lead me to the box for Crowley. I don't know what's in it. You know how Agnes could be about people opening things from her that weren't intended for them.”

That was certainly true. He felt placated, but only for a moment. “Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I thought you'd be upset. I told you I was done being a Professional Descendant and then I couldn't resist looking to see if any of the new book hadn't burned up.”

Newt just shrugged. “I mean, I don't mind. I wouldn't have made fun of you or anything,” he picked his cup of tea off the table and took a long swig before almost spitting it out. “Blech. Cold tea,” he dropped the cup in the sink. “What did the part that led you to the box for Crowley say? Anything else we should be worried about?”

Anathema rocked a little on the spot, biting her lip. “Nothing else about us, I promise. It just led me to the box. How long should it be taking us to reach London?”

The sudden shift in topic threw Newt off momentarily. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you and I go to London by ourselves it can sometimes take hours if the traffic's bad enough, right?” He nodded. “Did you notice when we drove there yesterday it took ten minutes?”

“I thought the pleasant company just made the time feel like it went faster,” Newt was trying to be charming. And if Anathema weren't so worried, it might have worked.

“It didn't just feel like it,” she shook her head so vigorously that some of her hair started to spill out of her bun, “It actually took ten minutes. I checked.”

“Maybe Aziraphale worked a miracle to get us there faster?” It wasn't a new idea for him. He'd noticed each time they'd gone how impossibly easy the trips had gone and how they had arrived at their destination much sooner than they should have. But he'd been worrying that maybe his inability with computers had somehow shifted so that it infected clocks as well, so he hadn't wanted to be the one to bring it up.

“It's happened before. But only when I end up there because Adam wants me there.”

“So,” Newt said as comprehension dawned on him, “You think he still has his powers? I thought he got rid of them since he made his dad his real dad and the other guy,” he pointed down “he told to get lost?”

“He did, and it's like his powers went away for a little while, but then they came back almost immediately. And if Adam still has his powers...”

“Then is he still the AntiChrist?”

Crowley usually didn't bother with it, but he could sneak and skulk with the best of them. The first assignment – it hadn't been spelled out that it was a first, but Crowley knew, whether by experience or instinct, that it was just one of many – was to sneak his way into Hell.

Now, glamours don't usually work on demons. But they only expect humans or angels to bother with such tricks. The best way to hide is often to be front and center. A minor miracle and Crowley looked like just any ordinary demon – no glasses, no snake eyes, no red hair and the hardest part, no sauntering walk. Instead he slouched himself over as though the very weight of the air were oppressive to him. Not a hard feat in a place that smelled so foul.

As promised, God had beamed the knowledge of where to go directly into his mind, though She still refused to answer why she couldn't do this Herself or even tell him what exactly was going on.

He weaved in and out of the aimless crowds until he reached a hidden area under a stairwell. He knew this room well – he used to give most of his presentations in here. Crowley had received a commendation for that as well, the invention of the Work Meeting That Could Have Been an Email – not that he'd ever managed to get the other demons to learn how to use email.

He was a little irked to find that it now looked like a broom closet. All the more insulting since demons weren't known to clean. He closed the door behind him and started searching, grumbling the word 'ineffable' as he went, cursing that he didn't even know what he was looking for. He slipped on a wet floor sign (that for some reason was lying on the floor completely soaked) and landed on his butt. “Damn it,” he muttered, glancing around to make certain no one had heard.

No one was reacting as though they had, but he saw a shadow fall across the bottom of the door way. He scooted back against the wall and tried to cover himself as best as he could with miscellaneous brooms, mops and buckets. He managed to block himself in so that he could still peer out, but someone would have to know to be looking for him to find him.

“You're late,” This was Micheal, who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the room. Crowley was trying to quickly think up an excuse, but she didn't seem to be talking to him.

“I'm a demon,” Hastur grumbled, closing the door behind him as he joined her. “Isn't timeliness close to godliness or something?”

“That's cleanliness, though it seems your lot isn't doing a good job on that part, either. So I guess that's good for a demon.”

“Right, right,” Hastur waved the insult away, “Beelzebub said they're too busy for this.”

“Gabriel said he was too busy,” Michael responded. “Though I think maybe he just didn't want to come here,” she made a face. “How is it that the room for holding your cleaning supplies is somehow even worse than the other rooms? What are you even doing with this room if you aren't going to use it?”

“I dunno. Maybe a new torture idea,” he quickly opened the door to glance around, then shut it again. “No one's listening. What else has to be done?”

“The new riders are selected,” she smirked. “It took quite a bit of work, but we figured it out. Won't even have to get the old ones out, aside from well...You know.”

He nodded darkly. “And how do you get the kid to go along with it? Why does he still have his powers anyway? Shouldn't your side have removed it from him?”

“Why would we be the ones to deal in demonic power? No, that was your side's screw up, not heaven's,” she lifted her head proudly. “As agents of God we can't be the ones to have messed this up. Had to have been your side.”

Hastur's hand burned for a moment, but Michael miracled a glass of holy water into her own hand. “If you want to play around with mutually assured destruction, I promise we will still come out on top.”

He extinguished his hand. “But hang on,” he said, “If it's mutually assured wouldn't that mean both sides get taken out?”

Crowley had to fight back the urge to say “Good for you, Hastur, a cogent thought!”

Michael crossed her arms. “Anyway, back to The Great Plan,”

“Ineffable,” Crowley muttered softly from his hiding place. Luckily neither of them seemed to hear him.

“So, he still has his powers and he's still on for the part. Why can't we just kill him and get another one?”

“Because then we have to start over. At least eleven more years of waiting,” her hand twitched, “Gabriel may not come out and say it, but we all know that the Great Plan was corrupted, mostly by your man Crowley.”

“Seems your guy Aziraphale had a hand in it.”

“Humanity needs to come to an end. There time was supposed to have been over by now. This will not only sort out the battle between Heaven and Hell, it will finally put this planet to rest and we can move on with things. Not sure why She's so fond of the place.”

“Now we're on the same page. Burn it all down, I say,” his hand was on fire again.

“Not yet. If we rush it again we may end up running into more trouble. The riders are selected, but I will need demon assistance with their corruption.”

“I'll get someone on it. Give me the names.”

Crowley found himself leaning forward. That would at least be a nice start for some thwarting, them just handing the identities away like that. But he wasn't that lucky.

“No. Not here. Not yet. Soon.”

“Don't see why we have to wait,” he sniffed.

“We're working backwards here. This is one of the last pieces – we plan each part out carefully, then work back so there are no loose ends. I trust at our next meeting you'll be on time?” she disappeared without a goodbye.

“Yeah, right. Be on time for a meeting with heavenly forces,” Hastur muttered to himself as he left the room.

Crowley waited for what felt like hours. He hadn't worn his watch as even that had been a custom piece that might have gotten him recognized. Hadn't thought to swap it for a replacement because he usually brought a phone, and he'd left his phone off and in his car parked several streets away (and glamoured, disgustingly enough, as a Ford Fiesta). He finally chanced moving again, sneaking out as stealthily as he snuck in.

Fortune seemed to be back on his side as he clambered back into his car without incident. He turned on the radio expectantly, but no voice of God filled his car.

“Well? I did your bloody errand, what's the next task?” he waited. No answer. “Oh son of a...” he beat his hands against the steering wheel. “You do know what happened back there, right Almighty? That's your job, to see everything? You could at least say 'so glad no one caught you and dumped you in holy water'.”

No answer came. He drove home, frustrated and disgusted with the whole situation and with a burning desire to call Aziraphale and complain to him. But no, if he told Aziraphale the angel would want to help. And might even be a little jealous that Head Office had gone to Crowley and bypassed Aziraphale completely.

Better to keep this one close to his chest, at least for now.

Adam was having trouble sleeping. Not entirely unusual for an active eleven year old, but this had started with a feeling of worry down at the pit of his stomach. He'd first misdiagnosed himself with hunger. Half an hour and two bowls of ice cream later, he still had the worry but now he also had a stomachache.

Dog curled up at the foot of his bed, but he wasn't sleeping either. Dogs, even hellhounds, can sense their master's upset. He whined and scooted into Adam, nudging his nose against Adam's hand. “I thought it went away, Dog. Or that I'd figured out how to control it. But it's not over and I don't want my friends to get scared again. I don't want to lose control again.”

Dog whimpered and Adam smiled as reassuringly as he could.

“It'll be all right. I'll go see Anathema tomorrow. She'll know what to do.”

[nelllraiser]

mori | montgomery & nell

LOCATION: Deep in the Woods

TIME:  7:19 PM

PARTIES: Montgomery de Ville and Nell Vural

It was just a regular evening for Nell. The sun was just beginning to set, and it was the start of her prowl for the night. Not yet having a particular target in mind, she’d lingered close to the house, not drifting all that far into the Outskirts just yet. But maybe tonight’s hunt for something to bring into the Ring would be short, and she’d be able to turn in for the night sooner rather than later. It’d been something like thirty-six hours since she slept, having been on the trail of a monster that’d bring in big cash the day before, and being unwilling to lose out on such a victory. So tonight would be quiet, and easy. Or at least she hoped as much. Ever since Morgan had mentioned the Tenome that has chased her and Blanche, Nell had been hoping to find it. She walked on through the forest, aimless at the moment as she readied herself to cast a tracking spell. Not for a moment did she think that the hunter might become the hunted. After all, these were her woods, her home territory. These dense branches and enormous trees were practically a second home by now. 

Montgomery hadn’t forgotten everything that they had been meticulously learning about their target. The hunt was something they relished, but when you were hunting for money and a human at that, the pleasure was somewhat diminished. At least in the build up. The pleasure of the kill was intricate and more importantly absolute. The one thing in the universe that Montgomery could always keep faith in. She was collecting creatures again, her skill was undeniable and she moved like an expert. Montgomery would’ve enjoyed hunting alongside her but clearly that wasn’t an option. Creeping forward, they moved parallel to their prey, keeping down wind from her and out of sight. Their opportunity would come soon enough, patience was a virtue for a reason after all.

For a moment, Nell stilled, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. It was the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Honestly, she should be used to it in woods such as these, with all sorts of creatures roaming the undergrowth, and even the trees above. Maybe tonight would be over sooner than she’d thought if something blood-thirsty was already nearby, making her hunt much shorter and less tiring than it needed to be. Already she could envision the smell of the freshly baked bread Bea had been making when she’d left the house, and Nell was all too eager to get home and chomp into it with little regard for manners or anything of that like. And then...sweet sweet release and she’d lay her head down to rest. Another night passed, finally able to close her eyes to rest and recharge.

Pausing for a moment, Montgomery sniffed the air cautiously. He wasn’t sure why he did it, it didn’t achieve anything. But it had become a habit and he was too stubborn to change it now. Creeping forward through the undergrowth on all fours, he stayed as low as he could. Moving with an athletic ease that had come from years of hunting game. This was just a different kind of hunt. Pulling the tranquiliser rifle from his shoulder he slid it through the grass alongside him. Positioning himself with a clear line of sight, Montgomery was pleased with the altitude they’d gained and took a second more to really settle in. There would only be one shot needed. Settling the rifle into his shoulder, Montgomery popped the cap off of the lense and peered through the telescopic view. Taking account of distance, wind, and of course natural projectile drop, Montgomery took his time, calmly taking a breath, his index finger slipped the safety off and curled around the trigger, pausing once more to make sure everything was perfect- he fired.

The longer this creeping sensation gripped Nell...the more foreign it felt. Rather than simply being watched, she almost felt...like prey. Like a vampire was going to jump out at any moment in an attempt to chomp down on— her neck. At the same moment the thought passed her mind, something else hit her, as if the universe had set her inner thoughts into motion. A sting in her neck, and a hand was automatically darting towards whatever had struck. What the fuck? Instinctively, she pulled the projectile from her neck, looking down at what appeared to be a tranquilizer nestled in her hand. Shit. Fuck. Adrenaline began to race through her veins, magic already sprouting to her fingertips. Her time was limited now. The chamber in the dart had been empty, and who knew what might have been in it. Anger, pure and hot shot through her as she yelled out. “Show your fucking self, coward!” Stomping her foot into the ground, the spell went out from there, designed to detect any living creature within a thirty foot radius. There, not too far from her in the tall grass. Without holding back, she sent an instinctual blast of magic in the direction of the body, summoning it towards her whether they wanted to face her or not. Her other hand had already drawn a dagger from its hiding spot, slicing a sizeable cut along her arm in preparation for her next move.

Would’ve been nice if Montgomery had been able to work out that was an option for Penelope Vural. Having literal magic at your fingertips must be convenient. Montgomery was sure that it would make his job much easier. “It wouldn’t be called hunting if I just showed myself now would it,” he protested in his Afrikaneers drawl as her magic dragged him towards her, but they knew that it wouldn’t be long now until the tranquiliser really started to take affect and then it would be all that much harder for her to really do anything. Then it would just be a matter of doing his due diligence, taking a trophy and confirming the kill for that little shit of a man August Thompson. Honestly Montgomery was almost tempted to let her live, almost. The money on this job was too good and this really wasn’t an inconvenience. Montgomery struggled against her magic, pulling their revolver out alongside the large hunting knife that he had strapped to his upper right thigh. “Are you sure you want to play this game little girl?” he asked smugly as he waited for the sedatives to take effect.

A sneer marred Nell’s features as the voice reached her. It would be impossible not to recognize that accent and tone. It only made the fight in her rear its head more passionately, knowing it was Montgomery that had come after her. What the fuck was his problem, anyway? Who the hell just hunted for sport? At least, that’s what she’d assumed. Why else would he be after her? Though...it was true she’d made plenty of enemies in her past. But surely he wouldn’t know any of them, right? Already she could feel herself becoming sluggish, her reactions taking longer to manifest than they usually did. Vainly, she pushed a bloodied thumb to the summoning tattoo on her arm in an effort to bring forth her three favorite hellhounds. Nothing happened. Looking down, she realized that with the world beginning to spin, she’d missed the tattoo, a finger’s swipe of blood now running just below the ink she’d been aiming for. “I’ll kill you first,” she spat out, trying her best to figure out which of the fuzzy Montgomery’s she was seeing was the real one. She threw her first knife, magic behind it’s throw to help it hit its intended target, both supplying assisted aiming in a time like this, and putting more force behind the dagger.

The irony in Penelope Vural’s logic was one of the most ironic parts of all of this. Normally Montgomery hunted for sport. They did it for the pleasure of the kill, they did it to make their blood rush and to feel the visceral pleasure of hauling a carcass back. He was an expert now, he’d clean it themselves and make trophies, sell what they could and he would eat what he couldn’t. His dogs got the rest. If it was edible of course. Montgomery was cruel but he wasn’t a cannibal. Not yet anyway. But today he had been forced into this position by a large sum of money. Perhaps forced was a bit of a stretch, perhaps he should simply accept that he could’ve walked away. But that was no fun. The dart was one of his own special creations. Years of studying medicine had made it easy to mix natural and supernatural sedatives and if Penelope died from the weird cocktail of magic and sleeping drug that was rushing round her system then who was Montgomery to complain? She seemed to be realising the predicament that she was in and as she pulled a knife and hurled it in his direction Montgomery side stepped it easily. His right hand snapped out and caught the handle of the blade as it sailed roughly near where his face had been. “Naughty, naughty,” Montgomery said wagging his finger and loudly tutting like a concerned nurse as he looked at the bright and shiny blade sighed, “such a beautiful creation, such a shame it’s user is so … unfortunate.”

A nearly animalistic snarl rang out from Nell as her knife was caught, wasting no time as she drew another knife as quickly as she could, though it was much slower than she normally moved, the tranquilizer still doing its work well. Pure spite was what was keeping her going, and her simple refusal to go quietly. She’d take a part of Montgomery with her or die trying. That was her only thought as she let the next knife fly, fueled by magic in the same way the first had been. As it grew nearer, it duplicated, spurred on by her magic to create an illusion that was meant to keep the intended target guessing as to which was the real knife. But to Nell it wasn’t all that different from her current vision, the world still taking strange shapes as her awareness ever so slightly began to flicker in and out. “Piece of shit!” she gasped with as much anger as she could muster, trying to remind her lungs how to draw air normally. “You fucking cunty-ass sad excuse for a human!” When was the last time she’d felt anything this strongly? Did it make sense that in her possible last moments, those would be the ones she felt the most emotion? “Shut your fucking mouth!” Each word was punctuated with effort as her magic burst forth once more, closer to the lines of instinctual now that things were getting down to the wire. She wanted him hurt. She wanted him maimed. She wanted him dead. To bring him to his knees.

Montgomery ducked beneath the shower of daggers that went flying in his direction. She was creative, he would give her that much, after all who would’ve thought that this is the way that she would choose to do things. He had always imagined that if he had been fortunate enough to have magic that he would be much flashier and creative with it. But each to their own. “If it makes you feel better to call me all of those things th- th- the-” Montgomery couldn’t finish his own sentence, looking down at his arms he found his veins bulging as the blood seemed to stop flowing around his veins and arteries. Suddenly his entire body was on fire as agony lanced through him. He couldn’t move. At least, not without it being agonisingly painful. His eyes raced around, what the fuck was going on? It took less then a second for them to train on Nell, she was doing something, it had to be a trick. Magic. Something that was stopping him from being able to move, being able to truly fight this. With a visceral, primal grunt of pain, Montgomery took the final three steps that spanned between him and Penelope Vural. The agony was almost too much. They cursed themselves for not using a higher dosage of the tranquiliser as his entire body screamed in pain. Grunting once more, Montgomery drew all their effort into one strike and with the butt of their pistol he clattered into Penelope’s temple. There was a sickening crunch as the metal contacted the bone and cartilage of her skull. 

Nell watched as Montgomery paused, sleepy brain unable to truly process what exactly was going on. All she knew was that she’d done something, expended some magical energy and suddenly he'd stopped. As the magic left her, Nell fell to her knees, a combination of the effort she’d exerted and the tranquilizer finally finishing it’s job pushing her to the ground paying no mind to her fighting tooth and claw against it. No. No. This would not be how she went. This would not be how she died. All those times she’d escaped by the skin of her teeth, all the near misses who’s tales she’d lived to tell. Being shot in the neck by a tranquilizer via a coward who hid in the bushes wouldn’t be her last stand. Her last stand. In truth, part of her had believed she’d never had one, the invincibility of youth and confidence lending her their strength when it came to the endless path that had seemed to unfold in front of her. Even though she’d seen so much more in her life than most did, there was still so much more she’d wanted to see, to touch, to feel.  She looked up as Montgomery readied the kill, biting down on any part of him she could manage to find hold of. Would this really be her last sight? She met his eyes, glaring at him even now as something glinted in the moonlight. Whatever he was meaning to kill her with, no doubt. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of watching her eyes close, anger and defiance still burning in their depths.

Montgomery had to admit that as they watched her collapse, as he observed, the tranquiliser really begin to enter her blood stream and start impacting her organs and functions. Montgomery could’ve given a whole lecture just on how it all worked. He was Doctor Montgomery de Ville for a reason after all, but now wasn’t the time. He had to admit that her magic had been something new. He had never felt that sensation or anything like it. It was like his very blood was boiling. Stepping forward, Montgomery reached down and drew their hunting knife once more. A wicked blade with a razor sharp edge and even serated towards the base of the hilt. Perfect for decapitation. Oh how it shone in the light, the reflection glinting off of the sheen of the blade. 

Luce. Bea. Winston. Jared. Blanche. Countless others Nell had met and loved since coming back to White Crest. It wasn’t her life flashing before her, but the faces of those that had made it all the better in the past months and years, even those she wouldn’t have expected to etch a place in her soul. Nic. Morgan. Adam. Remmy. Her father. Her mom. God, her mom. She was going to die without so much as ever being a point of pride to her own mother. What would her legacy be? Did she even have one? Did it fucking matter? The dead were dead. Even now she still struggled, as if somehow her weak attempts to break free would find some way to be successful, that she’d find a way out of this like she always did, always had. Nell had never once stopped fighting in her entire life, and she wasn’t going to start now simply because it was coming to a close. She was going to leave this world the way she came into it, yelling, kicking, screaming as much as she could. Montgomery tensed behind her, that silver flashing once again and suddenly all she could see was—

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Just Sit Down!

I know in the USA that some states are starting to pull back on their self-isolation orders but Please, I’m begging you to listen to the science.

This isn’t over.

We need to continue to flatten the curve.

STAY AT HOME.

__________

Summary: Peter Parker is a man... well, teenager of action. Therefore he and 'social distancing' don't exactly mix and he's about to drive Tony up a wall. The good news is he's able to come up with a plan that will undoubtedly wear his kid out.

Tags:  social distancing, Pandemics, Peter Parker is Going Stir-Crazy, Tony Stark is Being So Patient, Superhero Tag, Raising Morale, Staying Positive, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure... ...

Word Count: 3202

Warnings: None   Rated: G

Link to Post on AO3[2020-3-21]: Just Sit Down-happyaspie

 From the moment the virus, the pandemic, hit the United States, May immediately started talking precautions.  One of which was making sure that Peter was being careful while on his patrols.  No diving into crowds, cleaning his hands regularly and washing his suit after every single use.  Peter complained that she was being overprotective.  Insisting that they had no proof that he could get sick at all but being a nurse, she didn't relent.  They didn't know enough about his immune system to be sure that he couldn't catch this particular virus and even if he couldn't, he could still spread it.  Being cautious was the best course of action.  

Later when things began to spread, the local and national governments decided that social distancing was the best way to slow the progression and prevent the healthcare systems from being overwhelmed.  That meant that events were being canceled, the schools were being closed and businesses were beginning to move towards a 'curb-side pickup model'... it not temporarily closing their doors altogether.  

At that time, May was the first to volunteer to take on extra shifts at the hospital. Especially as some of her co-workers began having to navigate through a sudden need for child care or had fallen ill themselves.  She didn't mind the extra work, it was hard but it was also fulfilling.  The problem was that it didn't take long after the first major influx of patients for the hospital's supply of personal protection equipment to begin to run frighteningly low.  That didn't stop her from pressing forward. She knew she was part of the frontline.  People's lives were in her hands.  That wasn't to say that she wasn't worried.   In order to prevent the possibility of bringing the virus home to Peter, she did the next most responsible thing she could think of.  She sent him to stay with Tony and she knew she was extremely lucky to have that sort of an option for her nephew.  Many families didn't.

Having Peter stay at the tower actually eased most of May's major concerns.   Not only did it reduce the possibility of her passing the virus on to him, should she be directly exposed, it also meant that he would be well fed.  Getting enough supplies to properly feed an enhanced teenager during a time when people were buying in bulk out of fear was difficult.  That wasn't a problem for Tony.  He always had a large supply of everything stocked up at the tower.  It came from housing several heroes, including a super-soldier.  However, she also relieved to know that the man would be available to make sure that Peter didn't try to sneak out as she knew he was itching to do. 

Tony was, as expected, quick to accommodate.  He even made sure to have May's kitchen stocked for her. She tried to refuse but he simply waved her off.  Saying that he'd already made several large donations to various community food pantries and created a few helpful programs of his own to support the at-risk communities.  Supplying her with two weeks' worth of frozen dinners and canned goods that he already had laying around was nothing.   "Besides, you're really helping me out.  The team is sort of spread out across the country, Pepper's stuck overseas for the time being and the penthouse is entirely too quiet.", he said, not really knowing at the time, what exactly he'd signed up for.

~o~o~o~o~o~

By day five of being completely banned from Spidering at both May and Tony's insistence, Peter was starting to go a little bit stir-crazy.  He'd not used his web-shooters or any of his spider-powers during that entire time and he had so much pent up energy that he could feel himself vibrating.  "I need to get out.", he randomly jumped up and announced after having been jittering in place for the past twenty minutes while Tony watched the news.

"No, you don't.  Sit down.", Tony casually stated before flipping the channel to something a little more upbeat. 

"I can't sit down.  There're... things I could be doing out there.", Peter retorted as he began to pace.  

Tony hummed in response.  "Like what?", he asked despite knowing the answer.  He knew the kid was going nuts from sitting around.  A daily jog at the nearby park wasn't enough.  Not when he was having to go at a leisurely human pace.  

"I don't know!  Things!", Peter snapped but felt instantly sorry for having done so.  Taking a deep breath he looked longingly out the window and sighed.   "Stopping crime.  The usual."

"There's nobody out there, kiddo.  ...and the police are already taking precautions to help handle any kind of mass panic.", Tony helpfully supplied but the boy didn't look convinced, instead, he went back to pacing the room and periodically sighing.  

Eventually, Peter paused in front of where his mentor was sitting and began to chew on his thumbnail.  "Maybe I could help buy groceries for the elderly or something.", he suggested because that sounded reasonable.  He could swing around the city and deliver necessities to people who otherwise shouldn't be out.  That would allow him to really move while helping the community. 

"Stark Industries funded an emergency drone delivery service for that very purpose. It's free, highly advertised and my understanding is that it's getting a lot of use.", Tony replied and steeled himself for an argument that never came.  Instead, the kid when back to pacing.  Then, the pacing turned into digging around in the kitchen and before he knew it, the boy was back in front of him.

"We're out of pudding, Mr. Stark.  I should go out and get some.", Peter stated matter-of-factly, shifted his weight as he spoke. 

"Pete... I have enough food to feed me, you, May and a small army for the next three months, you'll be fine for the next two or three weeks.", Tony said in exasperation.  A lack of pudding was not even slightly on his radar.  Lack of coffee might have gotten his attention but he knew better than that.  The coffee he liked was delivered to his door, in bulk, on a monthly basis.  Not to mention the backup supply he kept in the back of the freezer.  "Don't you have some homework you can sit down to do?"

Midtown had turned to digital learning for the duration of the preventative period and posted assignments daily.  Extensive ones.  Yet, Peter had managed to blow through them in record time.  "I finished it already.", he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Throwing his hand up in mild annoyance, Tony rolled his eyes.  Of course, the kid was done with his homework.  "Well, call Ned or do that Discord gaming thingy that you do.  Just sit down, kid!"

"We did that already today", peter complained as he began to absentmindedly bounce on his toes.  "You can only play so much Minecraft, Mr. Stark."

Tony huffed a laugh.  "Really because it wasn't that long ago you were all, '...but there are bees now, Mr. Stark...', when I asked you put the game down for ten minutes to help me with something in the lab.", he playfully mocked.  He really didn't understand the fascination with the game and this was coming from a man who's entire generation had thrived on clunky plastic cartridges and boxy eight-bit characters.

Crossing his arms in front of him, Peter, sighed and then reluctantly plopped down into a chair only to then relentlessly tap his foot on the hardwood floor.  "I have a short attention span, Mr. Stark.  The bees are no longer of interest.", he proclaimed and then immediately stood up to continue his aimless wandering.

"Do you want to go down to the workshop?", Tony asked next.  Even if they had run out of things to do as far as Spider-suit updates go, there was always an abundance of half-finished projects down there to look at.  He sort of hoped that he could get the kid's brain working and that would, in turn, temporarily cease to the whining.  "We can do whatever you want as long as you stop pacing.  You're going to wear a hole in my carpet.  Sit down!"

"Why can't I go out as Spider-man, Mr. Stark?", Peter pleaded, not really expecting any kind of surprising answer.  He'd already asked that question multiple times over the last few days and the response wasn't likely to have changed. 

"You know why, kid.", Tony warningly returned causing the boy to grunt in frustration and then turn back towards the large windows.  It was as though the sly line was calling his name.  No screaming.  The skyline was screaming his name.

"What if I just swing around for like, an hour and then back.  No direct peopling.", Peter begged, hoping that was enough of a compromise.  While he missed talking to his many neighbors, shaking hands and playing with all the children in the streets but he did understand.  He was just aching to get out.  Like he would suffocate soon if he didn't.

Rolling his eyes, Tony sat up taller in his seat and pointed an accusatory finger towards the pouting teenager.  "Right.  Do you think you can just sit there and lie to me like that?  I've met you and there is zero chance of you going out in that suit and not talking to every single person you come across."

"I promise, Mr. Stark!", Peter nearly shouted but his mentor remained placid.

"Nope.", Tony causally countered but when it looked like the kid might actually start to cry he relented.  Just a little.  It wasn't that he had any real problem with Spider-man going out to swing the afternoon away.  The problem was he didn't trust the teenager behind the mask to not dive right into the middle of the first crowd he spotted.  He required supervision and he supposed that technically he could offer that.   "What if I go with you?", he proposed.

Narrowing his eyes, Peter tried to decide what the man had meant by that.  "Like... as my sidekick?", he asked, feigning confusion. 

"Iron Man is nobody's sidekick, Spider-boy.", Tony impassively asserted. "I'm going as your--"

"--Equal?", Peter pipped up with a wide smile.  He knew that was definitely not what the man was going to say either but he was sure his mentor's reaction would be nothing less than entertaining and he desperately needed some entertainment.    

"That's cute, Pete but no.", Tony said with a smirk.   "I'm going as your Superhero mentor or what have you.", he flippantly declared before turning the television off completely.  Apparently his spider-child required another, more vigorous walk. 

Peter stood by the window and quietly contemplated the offer.  It didn't really take that long for him to decide that the plan, though vague was good enough for him.  If it meant getting to use his web-shooters, that was all he needed to hear.  That didn't make him any less curious about what the man had in mind, though.   "That's cool.  What are we going to do?"

"Oh, I have a few ideas.", Tony said with a grin.

Within the next thirty minutes, the two for them were suited up and on top of the building.  While Peter hopped in place Tony stood there rapidly typing something into his phone.  "What are you doing?", Peter asked as he tried to see over the man's shoulder.  "I thought we were going to actually do something."

For several seconds the man didn't dignify the question but when he did he was smiling triumphantly.  "There we go.  ...Now you can swing around and get your crazies out while doing something nice.", he stated before turning his phone so that Peter could read his latest tweet.  'Bored inside? Spider-man and I are about to hit the skies for some practice.  Enjoy the show from your windows.', it read and tagged several specific locations including the nearby children's hospital.

"That... is a really cool idea, Mr. Stark!", Peter giddily exclaimed.

"It was one of my more genius plans.", Tony said with a flourish of his armored hand.  "Now, let's get going, that's a lot of ground to cover.", he added, engaging his faceplate and then subsequently shooting a mild repulsor beam directly between the kid's feet calling out, "Tag, you're it!", before taking off into the sky.

"Hey!  I wasn't ready, Mr. Stark!", Peter laughed as his mentor hovered tauntingly above him.  Though, before he had the chance to gather his thoughts or shoot a web towards the nearest building the man was swooping back towards him.

"You coming or what, Spider-kid?", Tony said, holding out his hand with the intention of taking another shot but before it could go off, Peter managed to get his wits about him and shot a web towards the man's outstretched hand.  Completely undaunted by his now web covered palm, Tony didn't change his position.  Instead, he raised his face-plate and smiled.  "Nice try, Spiderling.", he calmly replied right before the repulsor went off, burning right through the webs and hitting peter right on the heels as he had already begun to run towards the edge of the rooftop.

They continued to soar through the city, playing their superhero version of tag while people cheered them on from their windows and balconies.  Some of them wearing their hero of choice's colors while others held up signs to show support.  Although, Peter's favorite part of the entire chaotic outing was climbing up the side of the children's hospital and waving to the kids as they sat up in their beds giggling whenever Tony would zap him in the rear.  It was probably the most fun he'd had in a really long time.

By the time they had hit all of the spots that Tony had promised they would appear in, Peter was actually tired.  Not exhausted but comfortably worn out.  So, when the man told him it was time to head back to shower and eat he was more than willing to go.  

"That was really awesome, Mr. Stark.  Like, I can't remember the last time I've ever been able to play with anyone like that.", Peter sighed out as they sat together at the kitchen counter eating dinner. After the spider bite, any and all rowdy antics had come to a rapid halt.  It wasn't like he could wrestle around with Ned.  He had super- strength and didn't want to hurt him.  Yet, it had never crossed his mind that maybe Tony or even Steve would willingly rough-house with him.  Sparring, jogging, team practice, those could be fun sometimes but they weren't the same thing.   

"Yeah?  Well, I'm glad you had a good time, Buddy.", Tony said.  He'd not really considered that end of the exercise.  His goal had been to allow the kid to wear himself out using his spider-powers without putting himself or others at risk.  He'd had no idea that when he'd chosen to turn the whole thing it into a game, that he'd be filling a hole that he never knew existed.  "I think the people watching had a good time too."

Nodding his head, Peter smiled.  He thought about all the families that had come outside to see what the ruckus was about then stood on their balconies laughing and yelling, back and forth towards each other as they watched the action.  He thought about how they were enjoying each other's company without going against any social distancing suggestions and how happy everyone looked while doing so.  "It was sort of cool to see everyone being excited together even though they were still apart.", he mused between bites of spaghetti.

"We gave them something fun to focus on for a little while.", Tony acknowledged.  He'd not expected the impromptu air show to go over quite as well as it had but then again people had been confined to their homes for a while at that point.  No school, no concerts, even the libraries were off-limits.  They'd needed a pick-me-up beyond a computer screen.  An excuse to interact with their neighborhood at a distance.  

"Can we do it again, Mr. Stark?", Peter asked as he began to clear the table.  He wasn't sure exactly how much longer they would have to all be inside but he hoped to have the chance to lift the city's spirits again.   That and the game had been fun.  Laughing, goofing off and scuffling without having to worry about hurting anyone had been amazing.

"At some point.", Tony agreed with a smile.  He could handle that and honestly, he had already decided that after everything had settled, that he would occasionally take the kid out just to play around as they had.  Peter had made it very clear that having someone to horse around with had been something he'd been missing and it had been fun for him too.  It would also come off as good publicity.  Two superheroes working in tandem to brighten the lives of the people around them but mostly the former.  "In the meantime, what do you want to do now?  Lab or movie?"

"Movie.", Peter readily replied as he darted across the room and flipped solidly into the large chair beside the window. "They released some new ones to digital early since the movie theaters are closed.  Like Onward, Frozen Two and most importantly, the newest Star Wars movie."

 "Of course, Star Wars.", Tony replied with a roll of his eyes but settled down on the couch all the same. 

 They sat on the sperate pieces of furniture for the duration of the first movie but by the time they had started into their second, Peter was growing tired.  Eventually, he got up from the chair he'd been curled up in and wandered over to sit directly beside Tony on the couch.  That way he could stretch out a little more. Though as more time passed he found himself leaning more heavily into the man's side and his head resting snuggly on the man's shoulder.

 Looking down at the kid who finally seemed to be more at peace than he had been for the last several days, he smiled.  "You know we're supposed to be practicing social distancing.", teased said while nudging Peter's head with a shrug of his occupied shoulder.  It wasn't that boy had never sat with him like that before or that he really minded, so much as he just wanted to give him a hard time.  It was fun.

 "I live with you.", Peter reason, without bothering to move an inch.  He was comfortable and sitting closely beside someone that you were actively sharing space with was to be expected.

 “You live with your aunt.", Tony counted with a chuckle.  Though he did realize that the kid spent more than a good bit of time living with him as well.  Even before the short term change in his primary residence.  

 Peter looked up and grinned.  "Not right now I don't.", he sing-songed before pulling the blanket off of the back of the couch.

 "Whatever.", Tony returned with a fond roll of his eyes.  "At least your sitting down."

[tuffin-tuffmuffin]

Art from the talented @goattrain.

Resistance, Dinner

For the second time in a row, the setting sun only gave Natasatch worry.

It had been months since Natasatch watched a human settlement commence its nightly rituals, and certainly in a better context this time. The marketplace folded itself neatly into the trailers it sprung forth from, and the permanent hanging holiday lights gave the compact streets a completely different atmosphere. There were a few humans milling about, most of them militia guards, but a few were those who missed out on satisfying their curiosity of the local alien earlier in the day. None gave her anything resembling trouble, however, and she took the time to peruse the amenities until she grew bored. Inevitably, her mind turned to her friend Malcolm, who had passed through the marketplace fourteen times on his aimless walking. She counted.

Natasatch knew he needed help. How to achieve that was one of her greatest challenges yet.

Ultimately, she decided to copy her friend’s strategy, applied to the very same friend. Experience showed Malcolm was happiest when sharing “human culture.” The formerly-upbeat human had a list of memorabilia or events he insisted she must experience eventually, one that she had trouble remembering at the moment. Near the end of the day, the sight of one such promised experience on the edge of the marketplace jogged Natasatch’s memory, and fortunately, Aida’s blanket discount applied.

The reserve that Safari Outpost eventually became already possessed a restaurant, and little had changed in the fifteen years since it officially closed, or so she was told. Busts of dead animals and pictures of humans with firearms lined the walls, all cast in a soft yellow from the few hanging lights that still worked. The wooden-floored center of the rectangular building was empty. It was late, and Natasatch surmised the restaurant must’ve already served its regular patrons. Only a waiter and a bartender remained, but both seemed to be quietly working once their orders were placed. The two looked nearly as antique as their restaurant, and they weren’t going to let any alien interrupt their routine. Malcolm sat opposite her in the corner table for two. Natasatch still found human chairs difficult, and opted to rest upright on her own coils where her seat would be. In the background, a wooden jukebox delivered music consisting of simple guitar strings, but their focus was elsewhere. An electric imitation of a candle added an orange glow to their faces: one hopeful, one sullen.

Malcolm cut off a slice from the “steak,” which was an ADVENT burger patty in a different shape with some minced plants and sauce on top. He took a bite and said, “You know what? You’re doing your best, and I’m proud of you, actually.” Natasatch, who was debating between awkwardly imitating the human food custom or simply snatching the identical meal in one bite, looked up at her companion. “What do you mean? “Trying to cheer me up. The food, the small talk, and the sort. Getting my mind off our shitty vacation.” He had a bit of his confidence back, but a sense of resignation offset whatever gain she witnessed. “Is it working?” Natasatch asked. “Not really.”

Natasatch deflated instantly. She let out a tsssk, but managed to prevent it from becoming a full hiss. Her frustration lingered. “I’m... trying. What more do I need to do to make it work?” He shrugged. “I don’t think you can, to be honest. I’m a tough case.” She rose to the challenge. “I learned ‘cheering up’ from you. What makes you special, that it wouldn’t work?” He chose not to answer directly. After a few moments, he sighed and said, “I did this talk for Ackers too.” “Hmm?” “That’s why this one bites hardest. Ackers is- was, I suppose now- he was a unique friend to me. We’re assigned to the same cramped bunk; he gets it night hours, me the day hours. He started out real quiet, since he had been through a lot, like the rest of us. Family suffocated by viper poison, he admitted after I got him a few drinks at the bar, in a spot just like this one.” Nat commented, “This situation... is similar, yes.” “But Ackers, he also didn’t say he just wanted to kill aliens. He said he wanted to make the world safer for his sister.” She tried her best to put aside every instinct telling her to make Ackers suffer for his betrayal, and tried to view him through a sympathetic light. Just like Malcolm would. “In a way, I suppose I could understand. He still viewed me as a threat, and one that everyone in XCOM seemed to be blind to.” “That’s horseshit.” Her first thought was that Malcolm had never said anything so gruff before. Her second thought was to wonder what a horse was. Malcolm cut off a slice of his food, chewing away in the silence. When it was obvious Natasatch wasn’t going to speak first, he continued, “You look surprised to hear that. Probably thinking I would say ‘He’s really a good guy this,’ ‘his parents were killed by Vipers’ like that’d make everything okay. Ackers was ready to throw away everything he stood for, to try to murder us ‘cause of a grudge meant for someone else.” “Yes.” She gave an awkward laugh, which died the moment it left her mouth. “I feel like we decided to switch the sides of the argument between us.”

“And you’re probably right. In fact, I know I should be at his side. Hell, before today, I’d be first in line for the Ackers Defense Squad. ‘Till this. Cuts right through my lie.”

A pause, and the Viper blinked. “Lie?”

Malcolm sighed, then focused on her. “This lie,” he said in a resigned tone. Then he smiled.

It was Malcolm’s regular, easy-going, worry-assuring look, once again on her human friend’s face. His lips pulled back across his white teeth, the muscles pausing in the right spots to create youthful dimples, and the way one corner of his mouth rested further back than the other... and the warm look in his eyes, bright and brown, impervious to the damage that their owner suffered yesterday. Natasatch almost reflexively grinned back, caught herself, but then let it show. Why would she need to conceal it, after all?

Then there was only one smile at the table. Hers. Her human friend looked back at her, sullen and shaken once more. His eyes drifted down to her mouth, still pulled into a happy look, and she sensed his skin grow cold as his muscles clenched. As if he realized a terrible mistake. Natasatch put her smile on hold. “I’m... afraid I don’t follow.”

“Me,” Malcolm gestured toward himself in its entirety. “I’m the lie.”

Her mind raced, a hundred horrifying possibilities dueling for control of her mind. Was he confessing his guilt as an ADVENT spy? Some advanced Faceless? Mind control puppet? Something worse? Natasatch looked around, seeing how the chef and waiter reacted, only to find them gone and herself alone. She was still on edge, ready to fight or flee, as he continued. “I mean, it’s an act. A sham. Not the real me. It pays off being raised by thespians.”

Thespians... actors? What? She finally externalized one of her countless questions. “Then who are you actually, Malcolm Silva?”

“I’m pretty damn depressed, actually,” Malcolm responded without missing a beat.

When it became clear Natasatch wasn’t prepared to respond, Malcolm calmly continued, “I think my parents raised me right. Community-minded, moral, always seeing the best in people, and an aficionado of the cultural arts. That got them killed by us, other humans, volunteering for ADVENT outreach in our slums when ADVENT was still deciding if the carrot or the stick worked better. Everyone else I knew died when the aliens brought the stick down on the entire favela. My parent’s dream of a better world was doomed from the start because us humans were gonna let fear and paranoia ruin it and the aliens were gonna prove their fear and paranoia right. Maybe, one day, we can fight off ADVENT, but our real enemy is gonna be ourselves.”

Malcolm looked her in the eyes, resting his chin on his hands. With a sorrowful calmness, he said, “Even in the group most likely to change the world for the better, human nature is going to win out.”

“Would you say the same, even if you were not swimming in pain-killers?” Natasatch asked.

“Well, I admit I get philosophical when I’m loopy, but all this was there before.” He appeared slightly annoyed as he responded.

“So, where did this ‘lie’ come from?

“Acting is just another kind of lying, Nat. You pretend you’re someone you aren’t, saying a script that isn’t true, convincing others that you’re genuine.” He shrugged. “Like I said, it pays to have thespian parents.”

“That is not quite what I asked, Malcolm. Why did you even ‘lie’ about being happy at all? There are no shortage of traumatized soldiers on the Avenger. You would have fit right in.”

“I...” he trailed off. “Well, you’re right about that,” Malcolm conceded. “That’s all I saw when I first stepped on board. Nothing but misery everywhere. I guess I must like being a rebel, because I just... put on that mask as a spur of the moment, and then never really took the smile off.”

The Viper focused in on Malcolm, upset without anger, interrogatory without malice. “Then explain why you tried to rescue me when your comrades would rather me dead? Why try to teach me about human culture and ethics and history? Why would you even bother to show me Star Trek? Was every single one of those a calculated ploy?”

“Well, I had Star Trek on hand anyway,” Malcolm mumbled. She raised an eye ridge. Of the expressions she’d copied from her humans, she enjoyed that one the most, since humans somehow always knew the thought behind the gesture. This time was no different.

He sighed, and shrugged, not looking her in the eyes. “...I think I started believing in that lie for a bit too. ‘Specially after everyone started lightening up around you, it started getting easier to tell myself tomorrow was going to be better when I woke up. ... Least ‘till Ackers pulled the curtain back on what I’d ignored.”

“You know what I think?” Natasatch offered, not giving him time to brood. “I think that whatever you claimed to think before, you actually still believe in that pointless optimism, because now you have proof you were right.”

“What?”

The alien lowered her head, meeting him at eye level. The electric candle’s glow against her scales shimmered, and her hood’s slight flex solidified her human’s attention. Natasatch placed her hand, the one that Malcolm bandaged, over his own injured forearm, and gave him the most determined look she could. Yet, in the alien’s genetically-engineered eyes, he saw nothing but sympathy and kindness in the deep red, and in turn Natasatch saw a spark of understanding in his.

This.

Moistness came at the edges of Malcolm’s eyes. “I’ve already killed more aliens than I’ll ever befriend, Natasatch,” he almost whispered. She finally recognized the guilt for what it was.

“That is not true,” came the gentle counter. Yet, Natasatch found the answer she sought. You do care.

It was another few moments before Malcolm finally broke eye contact. The Viper took a deep breath, and started again. “Look, Malcolm, you may have killed many ADVENT, and you’ll probably have to kill many more.”

“That... really doesn’t help, Nat.”

“Yet, if those you ended were offered the same choice you gave me, not all of them would have been your enemies.”

He actually seemed to recoil from that. “I could have... Nat, you’re doing the opposite of consoling m-”

“Listen, Malcolm. We did what we needed to survive, so do not begrudge yourself for that. But the other aliens like me will never get that choice as long as the Elders control them, but you may have been the first to convince your kind to make the offer. Do not ever forget or downplay what you’ve accomplished.”

The human gave a humorless chuckle. “Watch me. In fact, yesterday you just watched me almost get die trying it again! I’ve started this dance before, Nat, and it’s ended in misery each time. Even if I keep trying, even when it works, it’s a drop in the bucket for the better Earth we need. If that future happens —which it can’t— I’m never going to reach it.”

“Not without me at your side,” Natasatch affirmed. She slid her hand back and clasped his fingers in her palm, giving it a small squeeze. Humans preferred to confirm deals with a handshake, after all, though her adjusted version was far from standard. A curious heat bloomed on Malcolm’s face, around the cheeks, and she couldn’t explain why seeing such gave her a feeling of contentment. “After all, you wouldn’t survive for a minute without my help.”

Finally, a genuine smirk, one that Malcolm was actively struggling to suppress. “I’m gonna drag you down with me, Nat. I can’t do that to you.”

“Perhaps you will. Perhaps not. Everything in XCOM seems to a roll of the dice. Until we get unlucky, I promise to do my utmost to make sure we both see it. Together.”

Then she tilted her head to the side, ponderous and mischievous both. “...But only if you promise me something in return.”

“What’s that?”

“Stop being depressed.”

He gave her a look he reserved for displays of severe naivety, the one weapon in his arsenal that could legitimately still discourage her. “That’s not how depression works, Nat. It’s... chemical, and psychological. The right medication helps along with therapy, but ADVENT’s got a monopoly on antidepressants and our only psychiatrist shot himself.” He paused as he realized what let slip so matter-of-factly. “Damn, that apparently just happened when I went onboard, a month before the Commander was rescued. Explains why everyone seemed extra miserable.”

Her hood dropped, dissatisfied. She didn’t like his response, but there still didn’t seem like an easy fix to his ‘depression.’ “Alright, then you will promise two easier somethings for me.”

“Fine. The first?”

“You can promise me to smile right now.”

“One fake smile, coming up.”

The smile seemed convincing, but Natasatch wasn’t yet able to know for sure. His expression looked touched by mirth and misery both, the former only overcoming the latter when the soft guitar tune in the background switch to a track with a higher, variable tempo. Natasatch heard it before, trying to recall its name. Flamenco? Yes, Malcolm enjoyed this style. She did as well, noticing her tail-tip start to sway in time to the drum beat.

“What’s the second promise, Nat?”

A tongue shot out to her plate, bringing the entirety of the ADVENT steak into her mouth, followed by another shot stealing away the remaining half of Malcolm’s meal. Her human had reflexively pulled his hand away from the surprise, but the incredulous, amused, yet not annoyed face he made sparked a familiar feeling of contentment in her.

Without addressing the theft, she asked, “You fulfilled the second. Now, will you be more honest with your feelings from now on?”

“You know what?” Malcolm pushed his chair back, using his uninjured arm to help him rise. He caught sight of the Viper’s tail waggling to the beat, and his own hand began to tap on the table in unison. He stretched slightly, closing his eyes and focusing on the tune. It was just the two of them and their music. “Honestly, I feel...”

The smile Natasatch saw couldn’t possibly be faked.

“...I feel like dancing! Let’s go!” Malcolm announced, clasping his hands over hers and tugging.

Natasatch had no response for this direction of her human’s spontaneity. "Wait, Maaaaaal-!"

But he was already in motion, and was pulling her along to the open space in front of the jukebox. Well, he tried to, anyway. Malcolm’s stretching stood no chance against half an hour of sitting, and his leading step was onto his injured leg to boot, so he would have quickly danced his face into the floor if his Viper hadn't been there to pull him back upright. He continued, undeterred, moving and swaying while Natasatch awkwardly fell into complimentary motions.

Obviously the painkillers haven’t worn off. She nearly shrieked, “This is a terrible idea! You need rest!”

“Terrible ideas will save the world. You said so yourself!” He replied, thankfully using his uninjured foot to stamp along to the rhythm.

“I said no such thing!”

“Pretty sure you did. Now, move! You have two feet, use them!”

The Viper was too busy floundering to counter his joke. Her face ran hot, but she thankfully remembered nobody was there to see her struggle. Yet, dancing was an action she possessed zero experience in. She gripped Malcolm’s hands tighter as she swerved, somehow bumping into two tables simultaneously. “How?!”

“Fake it until you make it. Works every time!”

Natasatch gave up trying to copy the human’s motions, instead just going with the physical curve of her body. Oddly enough, the less she focused on imitation, the more natural the motions felt. Her random tail lifts and sways eventually evened out, progressing along with the beat of the song. The unconscious movement of her tail played itself over the whole of her body. When she got a glimpse of Malcolm, bruised and bandaged and trying to ignore the fact, she saw his face content but eyes closed, the moistness at their edges returned.

At that, a peacefulness came over Natasatch. She could close her eyes, and not worry that Malcolm would crush her tail underfoot, that or a series of bullets would burst through the shuttered windows. Here she was, enjoying a song she was never meant to listen to, swaying to a dance she was never intended to, holding onto a human she should have never spoken to. The unique combination of closeness and color and music and warmth gave her a sensation that she never felt before, nor knew how to describe.

Everything else felt secondary, after that. The music continued but felt mostly ignored, the furniture melted away, and even the inevitable stumble on the tail was corrected with a low scoop and dip. The two might have danced their way outside, but she couldn’t quite tell. She only noticed the warmth of their contact contrasted by the sudden coolness of the air.

When there was no more music left between the two, the Viper slowly opened her eyes. All she could see was Malcolm, hands still grasping hers, standing bathed in moonlight against a black background. Genuinely happy, and certainly exhausted. Natasatch couldn’t help but smile when he awakened to her gaze, his deep copper meeting her deep red.

He spoke something, but she couldn’t hear it, because she finally noticed her ears were filled already. A low droning she had practically ignored gradually increased in volume until she could recognize it as a lift engine, and it kept booming as she finally noticed movement above and to her left. She looked up, seeing a blinding light in one half of her vision and the rear portion of Firebrand’s dropship in the other. Looking around, she saw the darkened buildings of Safari that the searchlight blinded her to, and the few denizens stuck between gawking at the two dancers and the squad of XCOM soldiers rappelling down from the aircraft.

They were equipped in their glittering plated armor as if an ADVENT fortress was next on their hit list, but fortunately their boxy magnetic weapons were pointed everywhere but the two. Their comrades were obviously past taking any chances. Natasatch and Malcolm quickly and awkwardly broke their security cling, as Central himself lowered his retrofitted combat rifle and stepped forward, sizing up their numerous injuries.

“Well, Sergeant...s,” Central started, hastily making the rank plural, ”Hmm, no funny quip, Silva?”

Malcolm composed himself. “Honestly Bradford, I’m just glad you’re here.”

“We’re XCOM. We don’t turn our back on our own.”

Natasatch smiled. Finally, their longest day came to an end.

This one scene was the real reason why it took me so long to continue this story. I had to get it just right, and I’m still not sure if I did, but I’m still pretty happy with what it became.

Thank you to @tehangryxeno for proofreading

Link to the Chapter Index