#quite jarring to think that will be me in about 5 or so years ... perhaps the lps we all know and love will become obscure and apart of som

[lpsotd]

Oh my god you are so baby! I knew you were young but to be that young? Wrow I am ancient (like I own the 90s versions of lps). Honestly impressed though, I wouldn't have been able to handle what you do with this blog at that age!! Are you still in school too??

ehgiuhiubhbdgbkndgjkb thank you !! currently i am not in school. i'm currently on the road to get my GED and hopefully start college >:3c

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

Moar Buddy Dawn Shit in relation to this post

Buddy was dead for about 10 to 15-maybe-20 minutes. Kristen and Gorgug at the top of Freshman Year were only dead about 3 to 5 minutes and they still got some form of time in the afterlife, (side note: Gorgug not knowing what Orc Heaven looks like and being Deeply Fucking Terrified and shellshocked by the entire experience is So Juicy To Me, like. Something that should by all rights be familiar to him being foreign. Of deep spiritual significance, but not in the way it was 'supposed to be'; he didn't even know how it was 'supposed to be' at the time or after he learned it, he's still not really sure if it was ever a 'supposed to'.) so I'm quite sure Buddy experienced Something beyond the grave and chose to leave it for this nameless aspect of Ankarna. The version of her which exists as a result of her complete death and incomplete resurrection/preservation.

In that 10 to 15 minutes, Buddy passed into the place he was going. Perhaps some cornfield out on the edge of Helio's domain where Helio figured 'I'll get to him or he'll find me sometime, there's literally infinite time here'. Perhaps as a petitioner on the Astral Sea- wait, no, I'm thinking about Rolling With Difficulty cosmology, the Astral Realm is not a sea in Fantasy High. (also go listen to Rolling With Difficulty) Regardless of if he went to the afterlife the adults all told him he'd go to if he'd been a good boy or to some more limbo-like place, he had just enough minutes for the reality to sink in that he's Dead. He's dead and the feeling of a hand gripping his shoulder as if to hoist his assailant high enough to slit his throat presses like a cold weight on his skin. As if this body has skin, no, he's just a solid soul given form in this place.

So jarring. Resting dead in some corner of the cosmos like finding the one empty room at a big loud party where you've mostly been taking things in, sticking close to people you know, not doing anything you're not supposed to. Sitting down on the unfamiliar furniture or swaying idly in place as you listen to the murmur of this foreign world around you. Only it's not like that, not truly at all. You're not at the party anymore, the echoes of your life aren't some thing you're taking a break from to rejoin or building up the nerve to excuse yourself from to get a proper change of scene. There is no going back or moving forward.

He's dead. Buddy Dawn is dead.

How many minutes did it take him to lose composure? Did he even? When the ultimatum was posed to him, did he harden his heart to any regrets about abandoning his original faith, or did he relax into knowing he could live again, in service of something that reached for him and he reached back towards?

Why was he so chipper saying 'Dang, y'all, I worship a nameless god of rage.'? He didn't sound horrified by his decision in much the same way he didn't sound in touch with reality when he said 'Sometimes I raise my hand and magic that burns folks to a crisp comes out, but that's just the lord Helio working through me.' His death didn't change him so much as it fixed his gaze onto something new.

He is still a Cleric. Through and through. His soul needs a divinity to latch onto. And this is the first time he has latched onto a divinity wholly and completely for himself. He was not taught how to live for himself. He was taught how to live and die for a cause. For Helio. He earns a nice afterlife via sacrificing his autonomy to whatever the church tells him is good and right.

But he doesn't want a nice afterlife.

He wants another life.

And he no longer has faith that Helio will deliver him from any hardship, because even after he's just barely grasped how dead he is and has been for the past 11 minutes, his soul is wrent into an ultimatum by a different power. Go back to his body and continue living under a new banner, or be trapped in a dark, solitary purgatory which his soul may never be free from.

It's an easy decision, really. Barely requires any thought, only following a feeling. He no longer wants to stand by the god who allowed him to die so unceremoniously and so unfairly. He honestly feels more betrayed by Helio than he does by Kipperlily. Kipperlily hardly made any promises to him, just asked for him to be the party's cleric. He never expected her to do that, sure, but... His whole life he was promised that every bad emotion he ever felt in response to every wrongness in his life would (should, must, has to) simply evaporate away in the golden light of the corn god. And it's been an eternal 12 minutes, but he only feels worse and worse.

And if all Helio could promise him was a flat expanse of farmland overseen by someone who didn't even properly greet him when he walked in (if the celestial bureaucracy were even doing their jobs and funneled the soul of Helio's cleric to Helio instead of some cosmic waiting room or other), but this nameless deity can promise him a life for himself? Then by god he's taking that ultimatum, come back to life, sit up with a slightly surprised little smile and announce to the world (as he has been taught is right to do when you are devoted to a god) 'I worship a nameless god of rage!'

And he'll be happy with this choice-that-is-not-a-choice which he was betrayed and coerced into. Because it truly feels self indulgent to choose anything. To choose ragefully living for himself instead of obediently dying for an unfulfilling promise. He'll choose the intensity and the darkness because the gentle constant pressure cooker of walking in the light gave him nothing but sunburns and a slit throat.

[echo-bleu]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @thelordofgifs and @zealouswerewolfcollector, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 163, all since 2018 except one from 2013.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,117,051 (how?)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Whatever I'm hyperfixated on, so currently Dragonlance/The Last Trial, I have not abandoned my Silmarillion fics I swear, the last few fandoms were The Witcher, Shadowhunters, etc.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? wolves and voices (Witcher) by far, then take me back to the start (Shadowhunters), Didn't the trees tell us their stories? (Witcher), map out a world (Shadowhunters), straight through the smoke (Shadowhunters). They're not necessarily my best either, just a combo of larger fandoms and some of them being fairly old.

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to respond to every comment, though I often lack the energy and I've been known to respond six months late.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I usually only write unhappy ending in ficlets, so probably Lord of Nothing (Silm) or we'd laugh at the ghosts of our fears (Silm)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

if I am to braid my mystic crown (Silm) has a particularly happy ending I guess?

take me back to the start (Shadowhunters) has perhaps not the happiest ending but the one I'm most proud of.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have gotten hate before, though nothing extreme. Those comments are just people being obvious jerks though, I find them easier to deal with than people who "helpfully" offer concrit and make you doubt everything you've ever written.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've been known to write fusions, not crossovers so much, though Rats And Sand Jars is a crack Encanto/Shadowhunters treated seriously.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I think I've had someone ask before if they could, but I never heard anything more.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I don't ship tbh. But if we're talking about a couple I still think about and miss years later, maybe Thunderblink (The Gifted).

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? SO MANY OMG. The one I regret abandoning the most is perhaps the time we've been given (Shadowhunters).

16. What are your writing strengths? Stream of consciousness-style writing, otherwise dialogue I guess? And writing disabled characters.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? English. It's not my native language and my active vocabulary is restricted no matter how large my passive vocabulary is. Also humor isn't my strongest suit.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? In my own fics I'll try not to write more than a few words. In other people's fic, my opinion depends entirely on whether I can read that language xD

19. First fandom you wrote for? Uuuuh depends what counts as fandom and what counts as writing. First fandom I posted a fic for was Harry Potter, way back when I was a teen writing in French on ffnet. But I wrote roleplays/cooperative fanfic on forums before that and also stuff for school that was totally fanfic.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? take me back to the start (Shadowhunters) if we're talking longfics. On the shorter side I'm quite proud of your veins are empty of dust (Silm).

Tagging @camille-lachenille @chthonion @thescrapwitch @emyn-arnens if you haven't done it yet!

[neonradiation]

Album Review: 'Memento Mori' by Depeche Mode

Key Quote: "It's taken me a year to review this album - a year of letting it's flawed brilliance permeate through me."

As the length of time gets longer between albums (Spirit was released 6 years before Memonto Mori), we have to wonder how many more we can expect from Depeche Mode. Having just completed a huge world tour, Dave Gahan and Martin Gore will inevitably be thinking about solo projects. But maybe this time we can expect something a little bit sooner from DM - perhaps even a surprise album with no tour..?

1. My Comos Is Mine

This is more of an album prologue than an actual song, although it does have some words set against an industrial soundscape. In my opinion, although not an easy listen, it does serve a purpose, which is to set up the next song perfectly. But, I'll never understand why it was released as the 2nd single from the album - that did have me worried...

2. Wagging Tongue

The 3rd single released starts with some classic DM synth and suddenly everything in the world is ok again. 'Watch another angel die' is not everyone's choice for a song chorus, but it does work wonderfully and is somehow catchy as hell. This is co-written by Martin Gore and Dave Gahan.

3. Ghosts Again

Released as the 1st single before the album release and upon 1st listen, this could only ever be Depeche Mode. Stripped back production from James Ford (Artic Monkeys, Gorillaz, Pet Shop Boys) really let the guitar and vocals breathe. When placed in an album context, you could be forgiven for thinking we are going to get a concept album about death and re-birth.

4. Don't Say You Love Me

Something you don't hear too often in Depeche Mode songs are orchestral strings - but they are prominant in this song. It's an interesting sound when combined with guitar and sub-bass synth. But, it's Dave Gahan's vocals that gels everything together. This another song (as well as Ghosts Again) co-written by Martin Gore and Richard Butler (Psychedelic Furs).

5. My Favourite Stranger

This track stands out for me immediately, a great guitar, bass synth and percussion introduction followed by crunching guitar hook. The vocals give way to the music around 1:30 mark and the song really takes off. It's a bold move but it works well and when the vocals come back in, it becomes the best arranged song on the album.

6. Soul With Me

So now it's time for the Martin Gore sung song. I've really enjoyed listening to the 'Martin songs' on the recent tour. But in my opinion, this one doesn't stand out as much as those. It's a little bit of a plodder - there I've said it!

7. Caroline's Monkey

This song about addiction doesn't really hit home with me either. Musically, I feel it's disjointed and patched together. Lyrically, although I get the metaphor, it does jar a little and feels out of place.

8. Before We Drown

For me, this was instantly my favourite track on the album and I was glad it was released as a single and later included in their live set. It has all the elements of a perfectly crafted synthpop song but then at 2:50 is taken up several notches. It really is spine tingling stuff and like 'Cover Me' from the Spirit album, it gives a nod in the direction of synth pioneers Kraftwerk.

9. People Are Good

The final (probably) single from the album has DM trying to find the good in people. Although quite bass heavy, this has a catchy vocal melody although I'm not sure it's single material.

10. Always You

A guitar free song gives this a pre-Violator feel to it and is a refreshing change on the album. Also, its worth noting there is a lack of droning bass which is present in a lot of the other songs.

11. Never Let Me Go

Back with the guitar then and there's nothing too offensive about this song, but it doesn't really grab me either.

12. Speak To Me

This slow burner serves as the album's epilogue. An understated, yet powerful song where again the stripped back music really showcases Dave Gahan's vocals which I have to say sound better than ever on this album.

In conclusion...

Well, it's taken me a year to review this album - a year of letting it's flawed brilliance permeate through me. Although it's not a perfect album, Memento Mori (Remember Death) was definitely worth the long wait.

Depeche Mode Contact Details And Music Links:

Twitter: @depechemode

Album Spotify: Memento Mori

Artist Spotify: Depeche Mode

Website: Depeche Mode

[woundthatswallows]

2 + 10 for the book ask!

2. top 5 books of all time?

frankenstein by mary shelley rebecca by daphne du maurier the bell jar by sylvia plath the piano teacher by elfriede jelinek the carnivorous lamb by agustín gómez-arcos

10. do you have a guilty fave?

i wouldn't say they are a favorite of any kind, but i suppose perhaps ottessa moshfegh is my guilty pleasure because i know she gets a lot of heat, especially on here but i have read my year of rest and relaxation + eileen and enjoyed both. i thought they were both interesting, quick and easy reads with entertaining weird female characters which is quite up my alley. okay im gonna rant now. i'm sure some of the criticism she gets is warranted, but a lot of it that i've seen makes me feel like it is a question of why is it not OK for there to be sardonic female characters, but when there's a really pessimistic weird male narrator in a novel written by a man it tends to get highly praised. (we know why...) especially because i don't think her novels are trying to be like super intellectual books, which i don't think a lot of the criticism takes into account and like. in order to critique a novel properly you need to at least understand the intentions lol. to me they are just entertaining, quirky and mysterious reads. and also yes sure, some of the people, like the coquettes are drawn to her work, and idolize it in a problematic way that is definitely far removed from the authors intentions, and often the opposite! it reminds me of the dark academia motherfuckers and the secret history. and im not saying that to compare moshfegh and tartt, i think the secret history is a much more meaty novel than what i've read from moshfegh, im just talking about the way its perceived online and how that impacts the way people discuss those works because of that. okay whoops that was long rant over <3 or i lied. the discussions ive seen around her work just bugs the shit out of me because so much of it feels like unexamined internalized misogyny and the conversations could be so much more productive and interesting if people thought a bit more critically and in a more well rounded sense. i don't even really care about the books.

book asks

[flowerslut]

5, 6 and 19!!!

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

this is so fun to talk about because I never let myself indulge in Fic Thinking Or Brainstorming because that's dangerous for me (for obvious reasons) BUT two fun fic ideas I've had in the past year-ish are these SUPER fun ones:

what if james and co DIDN'T overhear the cullen's baseball game and didn't stop by the cullen's residence until the next day like alice ORIGINALLY thought? (and with edward absent and playing the Must Be Constantly Around Bella game I think the whole 'james knows who alice is' reveal could be SO FUN—really you could go any way with this: angsty, silly, both!) I thought I would write this eventually but there ain't no way in hell it'll happen at the rate things are going lmfao

and what if alice was like "I have to WAIT to meet my true love? hell no" and after a few years she goes down south and makes her own army in a "well if you can't kiss 'em, join 'em" type of way. I just want to see a dumber version of alice who is like "I'll get this man's attention one way or another. i'll sort everything else out eventually" and she makes SO many bad choices but whoops she's good at this army business and now she's super powerful lol whoops! well, she'll get her back blown out one way or another! and if she has to commit a few thousand murders beforehand then like, whatever, yknow?

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

yes!!! right now I've been on a BIG tlt fic binge and these are a couple I go back to all the time: GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME, Inversion (<- this right here is the best tlt fic I've ever read), The Heart is Hard to Translate, and beat your swords into ploughshares (and your spears into pruning hooks). most of these are explicit griddlehark fics if I'm not mistaken lmfao

and as far as jalice fics are concerned I regularly return to @goldeneyedgirl's ongoing jalice fics Jar of Hearts and Shadow to Light because lexie's versions of jasper and alice mean so goddamn much to me. but I don't read much jalice tbh because I am... so picky with their characterization, etc.

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

this is long enough, so here's a bonus roots snippet under the cut!

When the screeching of limbs and heads being removed punctuated the hissing and crying that had filled the field, the vampire who stood, watching, rolling the stone around in their pocket, finally let out a sigh.

“Very well,” they spoke, watching as their army gathered the bodies to drag across the barren land and toward the pile that had already been assembled just out of sight, up and then down another hill. As they worked in agreeable silence, the watcher closed their eyes again, sighing once more.

The stone in their pocket was sharp on one side. With a small amount of pressure, the tip of their finger opened. A clenched fist brought venom toward their palm and with a quick squeeze their hand was wet with it.

Memories attached to the pain trickled in through their thoughts. For a moment they smiled and pictured once more the two bodies that were being carried away. Their faces were not hard to morph with the imagination, their features not quite similar but close enough that there was no effort to this daydream.

They imagined blonde hair torn and burnt, skull exposed and venom slick across the head. An opened neck, perhaps proving that scarred skin all looked the same when peeled back, ripped from the cemented system that held their kind together. His teeth would be kept and put to use. His last mark on the world he’d abandoned would never come. He would become nothing more than a discarded instrument, broken down for parts—maybe put back together once, or twice, just so they could hear him scream and beg and cry—that would be used to carve into every other victim these lands claimed.

The same teeth that had once marked them, would mark others, too.

Imagining the woman was easier, and brought a fiercer fire to their chest, the satisfaction of what would be done to her eliciting a full smile from their quiet, closed off face. Yes, the dark-haired witch would get what was coming to her. They imagined what she might look like, as torn and mangled as her companion had always been. Limbs fused together. Eyes gouged over and over until regeneration ceased (they had never figured out how many times their bodies could do such a thing).

Experiments were only kind when it was deserved. Some people did not deserve mercy.

fanfic writer asks!

[skzingitup]

ALBUM REVIEW TIME 👹

Today we are reviewing one of my fave kpop group’s new album MAXIDENT by Stray Kids with the title track Case 143

I just wanna say how I’m so proud of these dudes, they write and produce their own music and their skills get stronger with every release 🫶🏻 anyway on to the review

Case 143 - 7/10 - it’s definitely interesting. I was worried i wasn’t gonna like it all that much based on the snippet on tik tok but it’s much better within the context of the whole song. This song does what they set up in the previous release Maniac and improves upon it. Although the first section of the chorus is jarring, its a huge ear worm and im addicted to it. If Stray Kids were going to do a love song this is exactly how i expected them to do it 😭 (also give the music video a watch you won’t regret it, it’s quite funny, felix gets slapped by a cooked chicken 😀)

Chill - 8/10 - a song written and composed by our Hannie!! His songs are always so nice!! This is a cool jazzy style r&b song. It takes some similarities from lofi music too and some classic hip hop beats and overall its so good. Han’s solo written and composed songs have only improved since debut and i love it so much!!

Give me your TMI - 9/10 - This one is for all my living tombstone fans and fnaf fans!! The crunchy instrumental is everything and the drop into the chorus is so interesting. Also when Changbin starts the song with a strong rap that seems like complete nonsense, you know the songs gonna hit!! But yeah keeping up with hip hop sounds, the incorporate crunchy edm and alternative rock style sounds too and it just makes this song so funky I love it!!

SUPER BOARD - 6/10 - where do i start with this song… the intro itches my brain so hard. The “nada da shooom super board” gets stuck in your head so badly 😭 the song leans into a more rock style but instead of an electric guitar riff, you get these synth sounds and it adds that retro flare to the song. Although the repetition of nada da shoom super board can get a bit annoying and lessens the replay-ability of the song for me

3RACHA (Bangchan, Changbin, Han) - 5/10 - this is well and truly a Drill song. Like this is something straight out of the streets of south london. The raps of our producing unit are satisfying to my ears however this style of music just isn’t my personal taste and i don’t think i would listen to it often. Not a bad song tho ✨also ik chan is australian but im claiming changbin and han as honorary brits for this song

TASTE (Hyunjin, Felix, Lee Know) - 8.5/10 - when Hyunjin described this song as a cold version of red lights he wasn’t wrong. They need to keep this man in the studio his brain is amazing. 4th member of 3racha?? Perhaps. Whenever you put Danceracha (this unit) in the studio expect a hoe anthem honestly. I’m very proud of how Hyunjin and Felix’s vocals have improved. Lee Know really gets to use his more powerful vocals and that makes me so happy!! Also the drop in this song is insane. Listening to it isn’t enough i need it shot into my veins 😭

Can’t Stop (Seungmin, I.N) - 7/10 - my vocalracha 🫶🏻 this is a pop rock style song. They worked with one of day6’s producers for this track which you can tell!! But it suits them so much!! Seungmin and innie’s voices are so lovely the drums and guitars are so strong. You will absolutely catch me dancing about to this song 😭 however i will say that the mixing between the vocals and the instrumental feels a bit off. Idk how to explain it. Also they cut off Seungmin’s high note, gonna sob.

Circus (Korean version) - 8/10 - This was the title track for their lastest Japanese mini album so i’ve heard if before. Its a bop. But I will say i think the korean version flows a lot better between the english lines and the korean ones. Where as the Japanese version felt a little too sharp?? But yeah Circus would slay is every language if we’re honest

Anyways, Maxident Album of the year. Also is you ever wanna talk to me about Stray Kids pls send me an ask, I love these dudes so much 😭🫶🏻

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Seven Year Slip. By Ashley Poston. Berkley, 2023.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: contemporary romance

Series: N/A

Summary: Sometimes, the worst day of your life happens, and you have to figure out how to live after it.

So Clementine forms a plan to keep her heart safe: work hard, find someone decent to love, and try to remember to chase the moon. The last one is silly and obviously metaphorical, but her aunt always told her that you needed at least one big dream to keep going. And for the last year, that plan has gone off without a hitch. Mostly. The love part is hard because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone—she isn’t sure her heart can take it.

And then she finds a strange man standing in the kitchen of her late aunt’s apartment. A man with kind eyes and a Southern drawl and a taste for lemon pies. The kind of man that, before it all, she would’ve fallen head-over-heels for. And she might again.

Except, he exists in the past. Seven years ago, to be exact. And she, quite literally, lives seven years in his future.

Her aunt always said the apartment was a pinch in time, a place where moments blended together like watercolors. And Clementine knows that if she lets her heart fall, she’ll be doomed.

After all, love is never a matter of time—but a matter of timing.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: suicide, mild sexual content

OVERVIEW: I kept hearing about this book, so out of sheer curiosity, I picked it up. I'm not normally a contemporary romance reader, so this was a little outside my wheelhouse, but I was excited to give it a chance. Overall, I think I'm rating this book 3-3.5 stars for reasons of personal taste. While I loved the time-travel element and atmosphere of the apartment, I also felt like a lot of narrative tension was sucked out of the story. Maybe this book was supposed to be fluffy and light, so I'm perhaps being unfair. But I kept seeing moments when the stakes could have been raised, so that drove my subjective experience.

WRITING: Poston's prose is ok. It's definitely not the worst, but it doesn't feel particularly inspired either. Much of what put me off was the millennial humor and pop culture references. I understand this book is written for a particular audience, but the humor was simply not for me and will, I think, age this book poorly.

I also think Poston repeated herself a bit - some of the same ideas expressed in the same manner (for example: the sensation of pop rocks in one's stomach). It wasn't so obnoxious to be jarring, but it was something I noticed.

PLOT: The non-romance plot of this book follows Clementine West, a book publicist who devoted herself to work following the death of her aunt. The aunt has bequeathed a magical apartment to her niece - one that randomly transports its occupant 7 years backwards or forward in time, and Clementine soon finds herself being catapult into the past too meet a young man who lived in the apartment for a summer 7 years ago.

I was a little mixed on the plot for a number of reasons. On the one hand, I really loved the possibilities that came with the time travel. Because occupants were only separated by 7 years, they're was always the possibility of meeting up yet being changed by time. There was so much room to talk about how people change and timing and so much that Poston takes advantage of several times.

I also liked the focus on grief and the relationship between Clementine and her aunt. Even though the aunt is dead, Clementine has enough flashbacks for her to feel like a real and integral part of her life, and the longing that accompanied her time travel into the past - during a time when the aunt was alive - was palpable.

I also think the atmosphere of the apartment was well done. Poston made it seem magical in all the important ways: not for its time travel, but for the way the light hit it, the way it was decorated, the memories it held. It was a more effective way of making the setting feel enchanting than detailing the exact way it launched someone into the past.

On the other hand, I do think Poston could have leaned heavier into making the plot work for her themes. While I appreciated the way friends were used as support systems, there were scenes that I thought could have been less fluffy and more purposeful.

I also didn't quite feel like the stakes were as high as they could have been. This isn't to say that I think there should have been action or life-or-death scenarios, but Poston didn't exactly make me care about Clementine's job or Iwan's success as a chef. This might be because I felt like I was told too much about why they mattered more than shown, and I really wanted to see the effects of workaholism on grief, for example, more than Clementine wanted to just simply advance her career.

CHARACTERS: Clementine, our heroine, is fine as far as romance heroines go. There were things I liked about her, like her relationship with her aunt, her meditations on grief and repetition and adventure, and the way she comes to terms with the realities of change. I think I would have liked her more without the millenial humor, and if the plot had worked harder to really dig into her psyche, she would have felt more dazzling.

Iwan, our hero, is ok but a bit too "safe" to be interesting. This doesn't mean that he needed to be some kind of bad boy; I mostly mean that he doesn't seem to have character flaws that make him feel three dimensional. His love for cooking was admirable, as was his relationship with his grandfather, but he felt a little too perfect and his arc wasn't necessarily one of growth. He was fairly perfect from the get-go, and though he loses some of that in his vision for his career, I don't think it developed as strongly as it could have.

Supporting characters were fine, though I think they distracted from the plot more than served it. As much as I loved the supportive network of friends around both characters, I ultimately think they didn't work hard enough to create subplots of their own that complimented the main romance. Drew and Fiona, for example, were nice to have as emotional support, but they mostly felt like repositories for millenial humor. The same can be said of Miguel and Isa, who would have been fantastic commentaries on chasing passion over accomplishment and formal recognition.

ROMANCE: There were some aspects of this romance that were really interesting. The time travel was perhaps the main attraction, shoving these two people together and holding them apart at moments to create productive frustration and tension. I liked that the time separation meant that both characters were in different stages of life and thus, finding each other in the present was fraught with difficulties.

I do think, however, that more could have been done to put past and present storyline in conversation with one another. While Poston eventually delves into things like how time changes people, it felt like from the get-go, the time travel was more used for a quirky meet cute. Of course, if this romance is meant to be more light and fluffy, there's nothing wrong with that; personally, however, I wanted the time travel to really work harder for our love story, creating scenarios that couldn't necessarily be solved by just getting over oneself or having a frank heart-to-heart.

TL;DR: The Seven Year Slip is a romance with an interesting premise that is somewhat undercut by its millenial humor. Though it wades into the waters of tackling things like grief and pursuing happiness, it ultimately felt too surface level for my taste.

[anxiouspregnantlady]

24+5

Woah, hello. It's been a whole month! P was out of school and we were scrambling every day to work + parent full time, but thankfully she has been back for a full week now and life is pretty good.

I've officially passed viability, yay!!

I am feeling overall pretty good!

Main updates:

Tailbone pain has started

Headaches sometimes, dizzy sometimes still

I think my climbing shoes feel tight? So, foot growth

Baby movements are quite big and fairly constant

Started feeling baby hiccup!

In terms of buying/acquiring things...I think we have all the big things (a car seat, a crib, newborn carrier, some bottle-type things) and I don't foresee any big items being needed in the next few months. Going back and forth on getting a separate pack n play, feel like baby can't possibly know the difference between a large crib and a small one?! Oh, nursing pillows - I don't have any. And I am waiting for my breastpump from insurance to arrive. And we need to set up the crib, planning to do that in... September.

Idk if it's my latent crunchiness or just nesting or plain old anxiety, but I feel very motivated to go plastic-free for as much of the feeding process as possible. Specifically trying to avoid warm/hot milk coming into contact with plastic. So...I'm going to try (TRY!) using mason jars for pumping and bottles ha ha hahahahahahaah i'm laughing at myself just typing this. But I really like the idea of using non-baby-specific stuff as much as possible. I want to protect myself from the BABY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX (call it Big Baby) as much as I can, and one way to do that is to just use non-baby items as baby items. Like.....changing a diaper on a towel. We will NOT be buying a changing pad. Also maybe I can just nurse with a normal pillow??? I do however want to prioritize my BODY and ERGONOMICS because I remember completely destroying my neck and back and hips and everything actually from constant breastfeeding and carrying and bending and all that. So I have spent a fortune on a hope and plum baby carrier which actually just arrived. It's a cross back soft structured carrier in natural materials. And maybe I will spend good money on an ~ergonomic~ nursing pillow. But. I am also trying my hardest to wait til AFTER the birth to buy all this stuff.

OK OK here are all my other crunchy aspirations... I am only keeping clothes that are made with natural materials 99% of the time. I want to make a lot of my own stuff, like bibs. We are all ready for cloth diapering round 2. I think I will lean away from purchasing playspaces/"baby" activities and adopt more of a follow-me-around-my-life type of approach. I was so anxious to entertain P all the time, and I now feel that that urge didn't serve me and perhaps didn't serve her. I didn't know at all how to regulate myself when she cried, and I was ballistic when she was ballistic, which was a lot of the time. I think I will (by necessity and also by a shift in philosophy) be more loosey goosey with the wake window type shit. I will not be logging my baby's feeds with an app, unless medically necessary for whatever reason, though I will probably write down times in a notebook.

So many things are different this time... for one, we have a car. This considerably opens up the world for me as a postpartum mama. We did have a car for a bit with P (borrowed), but we didn't have a parking permit for our area and had to park 15min walk away. Also, I had terrible anxiety about driving alone with P. I absolutely dreaded her crying alone in the backseat, and so I didn't go anywhere alone with her. Whew. No wonder why I felt miserable. We are much more well-acquainted with our neighborhood now, vs being quite new 3 years ago. And probably most significantly, WE HAVE PARENT FRIENDS!!!! OMG!!!!! That live 5-10ish min drive away. Also, her big sister will probably provide plenty of "entertainment", lol.

I think in lieu of buying a lot of stuff that - not gonna lie, I do feel the tug/impulse/advertising pressure to buy - I want to budget for regular massages.

I will NOT spend all my free time lurking Sleep Training Facebook pages (oh, i feel for my poor past self) or buying more things that promise to help my baby sleep. I will trust more in my baby's inherent ability to sleep. I would LOVE to continue engaging in my hobbies as much as possible - walks, sewing, climbing, pressure-free cooking, reading, watching TV. Basically, I am hoping very much that I will be more of a Person and less of a ball of anxiety.

I hope I will be more open to napping during the day. I remember I never napped with P. Maybe I didn't believe that I could, or felt anxious that it would be a waste of time.

Oops this turned into much more of a postpartum post than a pregnancy one...but honestly, pregnancy is quite uneventful right now. My next "thing" to do is do my glucose screening, which involves chugging 16oz of orange juice in under 5 minutes. Once I hit third trimester I will probably (but maybe not? shrug) be more in a birth and labor headspace. I have thought quite little about birth/labor tbh. And I kinda like it that way.

[fiveisnumber1]

The Vortex That Takes Me To You - "Me, Lu, and Five Times Two" Side Story

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32

_________________________

"Wait!" Five called out as he tried to hand you the briefcase

It was too late though as Luther pushed him into the vortex to 2019. As Five held the now-defunct half of the briefcase he fell through time for what felt like a matter of seconds before hitting the ground of the courtyard behind the academy. With a giant flash, the spot in the sky where the blue used to be was now gone. From afar the five known living Hargreeves siblings slowly approached the person who dropped from the sky.  Slowly, Five got up from the ground throwing the broken briefcase away as he dusted the dirt and leaves off his clothing. Approaching closer the group looks on in confusion as Klaus asks,

"Does anyone else see a slightly older version of little number Five or is that just me?"

Five took a look down at himself. His suit was too loose now and when he looked at his hands he saw no more wrinkles or signs of old age. There was a leftover puddle nearby from rain that must've occurred early and as he bent over it he saw the version of himself that he had left only moments ago. Bringing a hand up to his face, he stared at his newly youthful reflection.

"I'm young again." He whispered to himself

At the same time that this was happening you were making your way to the florist to pick up flowers that Pogo had ordered. As you walked to the shop you felt that something was wrong. No, not wrong, but different. From behind you, you felt a molecular disturbance and a giant one at that. As you continued to walk to the shop the physical pain grew so much that you had to stop and bend over. It felt like your insides were being torn apart bit by bit. Somehow managing to turn around you felt the direction it was coming from. It was coming from back towards the house. The pain of the disturbance went on for a few more seconds but then abruptly it stopped. Catching your breath, you stood back up but something felt familiar in a way. It was like an odd chill of deja vu but you had never experienced this before. But if the disturbance was coming from the house then the flowers could wait. Reginald didn't deserve flowers anyway. Quickly, you started sprinting back towards the Academy trying to get there as quickly as you could.

Back at the house, the five Hargreeves siblings sat around the kitchen table as they watched the newly returned Five make a sandwich. It had been years since they had last seen him and a lot had changed in that time. Everyone had their own thoughts and feelings on the matter and some were more upset than others. Five wasn't exactly sure what to say to them after all this time. It was quite a complicated situation to be in. Trying to not let his uncertainty show, Five stoically questioned,

"What is the date? The exact date."

The group stays quiet for a second before Vanya states,

"The 24th."

"Of?" Five pressed

"March," Vanya replies

"Good." Five comments

This was exactly the time that he was planning to be here, on the day of his father's funeral. Thank god that man was dead. If he was alive he would never hear the end of it.

"So are we gonna talk about what just happened?" Luther asks

It was no surprise to Five that Luther would speak up. Even after all this time, he was trying to take the lead on things. Instead of responding to his brother, Five puts two slices of bread down on a cutting board and focuses on his desired food item. He hadn't eaten all day and apparently paradox psychosis was a real energy drainer. He needed a second before he was going to explain anything. Standing up, Luther looks down to Five and states firmly,

"It's been 17 years." 

"It's been a lot longer than that." Five replies immediately jumping behind Luther to find marshmallows

"I didn't miss that." Luther comments

While Five looks around the kitchen for the marshmallows, Diego asks accusingly,

"So where'd you go?"

Of course, an accusatory tone. How could Diego not have one? Five could just tell that Diego was upset not because he had disappeared for years but because he was the one that made you disappear for years. If only the siblings cared for each other as much as Diego cared for you, maybe things would be different. Five didn't have time for Diego's older brother shtick though. Jumping back to the table with the marshmallows, Five bluntly replied,

"The future. It's shit by the way."

"Called it!" Klaus exclaims

Five turned towards the refrigerator to get peanut butter for his sandwich, his mind wandering as he thought back to his time in the apocalypse. 45 years. He was so arrogant to think he could time travel. Grabbing the peanut butter jar, Five talks aloud,

"I should've listened to the old man. You know jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice."

Unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter jar Five looks up from the sandwich he was making and at his siblings before him. The last time he had seen them all together was as corpses. And before that, they were all still children. It was a lot to take in but he was focused on his task of stopping the apocalypse. He had the information he needed on what caused it, but he needed to find the right time to discuss it with everyone. Keeping a stoic look he tries to deflect his mind to something else by commenting to Klaus,

"Nice dress."

"Oh, Danke," Klaus responds playing with some of the loose straps

As he starts to assemble the sandwich he was making Vanya questions him,

"So how did you get back?"

"In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time." Five responds

"That makes no sense," Diego says confused

"Well, it would if you were smarter." Five remarks

Diego angrily stands up and stares down Five attempting to get towards him to attack him. Instead, Luther stands up puts out an arm to hold him back. Honestly, it didn't matter if Luther was there to stop Diego or not. He was all bark and no bite.

"How long were you there?" Luther asks

"45 years." Five states bluntly "Give or take."

Luther and Diego both sit back down in unison. All the siblings stare at their brother with wide eyes in shock at his statement. 45 years?

"So what are you saying? You're 58?" Luther asks

"No. My consciousness is 58. My body is 18 again." Five retorts

With his sandwich put together, Five walks off to the side of the table they all sat around and faces away from his siblings.

"How does that even work?" Vanya inquires

"I used the improper equation when I was forced through time." Five replies

"Improper equation?" Vanya questions

Electing to ignore Vanya's question, Five turns back towards his siblings at the table. There was no reason to explain all that had happened before he came here. It was unnecessary and would probably worry his siblings more than they needed to be, or perhaps even enrage them and there was no way he was going to stop the apocalypse if his siblings weren't willing to work together. Picking up a newspaper detailing the death of his father, Five takes a look at it before commenting unamused,

"Guessed I missed the funeral."

"How did you know about that?" Luther asks

"What part of the future do you not understand." Five remarks to him, his eyes not leaving the paper "Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah," Diego says

"No," Luther adds

Ah, yes. One and Two still fighting to be the leader of the family as if it hadn't been years since the dissolution of the Umbrella Academy.

"Hmm. Nice to see nothing's changed." Five comments

The Hargreeves looked at their newly returned brother and as he stood there quietly, holding his sandwich he stared back awkwardly at his siblings. The prior self that he left in the '60s said that you would show up when the conversation with his siblings felt over. It felt pretty over right now and there was no sign of you. Five's heart started to race, everything had been laid out for him, and now nothing was going according to plan. Panicked, Five decided it was best to leave. Keeping a serious look on his face he started to walk out of the kitchen.

"Uh, that's it? That's all you have to say?" Allison questioned

"What else is there to say?" Five responded

When he was out of sight of his siblings he once again noticed how his suit didn't fit him properly anymore. He needed to change. Flashing upstairs he looked in the closets of his siblings but was met with academy uniform after academy uniform. Reluctantly, he took an academy uniform from Klaus' closet since it looked like it would fit best and put it on. He stared at himself in the mirror for a bit before deciding to head back downstairs.

Making it back to the house, you looked around, and only felt faint traces of a disturbance. Maybe you were going crazy? Heading through the front door you looked around the foyer and some other rooms on the main floor and upper floors but found no one. Maybe they all got in an argument and left, it's not like they enjoyed being here anyway. Letting out a small sigh you made your way back downstairs to the parlor. Someone would probably show up soon enough. You stood in the doorway for a second and stared at the portrait above the fireplace. You had hated the painting at first, but you tolerated its presence after years of coexisting with it. Carefully, you made your way over to the fireplace and looked up at the portrait that loomed over you. It was nothing like him. No light in his eyes, no cocky smile on his face, no personality. Just an emotionless and unrealistic replication of who he was. You wanted him to come back.

As you stared at his portrait, Five had made his way downstairs and took in what had become of his home. As he approached the parlor he saw a giant portrait of him on the wall and below it stood a familiar figure. Five stopped in his tracks and his heart began to race. This was his (Y/N). Five readjusted his jacket and tie and took in a breath before slowly starting to walk over to you. Hearing footsteps behind you, you stopped looking at the painting and turned to look where they came from. Seeing the figure before you, your eyes went wide with shock as the world around felt like it was slowing down. Carefully, you moved forward towards him almost as if in a trance, worried that if you moved too fast he would vanish. You extended your hand out and Five moved to meet you in the middle. When the two of you were close enough your fingertips lightly brushed his cheek, but you quickly pulled back, shocked by the feeling of something there.

"I think I'm hallucinating again," you whisper

Five reaches out and gently grabs the hand you had retracted. Bringing it closer to him he places it on top of his heart, holding your hand there. You can feel his heart beating rapidly beneath your hand as your own started to catch up to match his. You looked up at his face and gazed into his eyes. Tears prick your own as you softly ask,

"Five?"

Five smiled at you as he looked upon your face. You were so beautiful. Not that you weren't in the 60s but the way you looked at him now was different. It was soft and welcoming and felt like it was only for him. Leaning in just a little closer Five whispered to you,

"I'm here."

You let out a small gasp. He was here. This was real. Flinging your arms around him you held him tightly as Five wrapped his arms around to hold you back. No wonder his other self was so protective, who would ever want to let this go? You looked up at Five. A question had loomed on your mind ever since the day he vanished and you had to know the answer.

"Are you still mad at me?" You questioned nervously

Five saw the nervous look on your face. He knew that you had wondered if he was mad at you for a while. It was one of the last things you had said to him before you...died. Five took your face into his hands. Looking gently into your eyes he answered,

"I was never mad at you, to begin with. I was mad at my dad and one of my biggest regrets will always be taking that out on you and then leaving you all alone."

With his response, a weight fell off your shoulders. For so long you had thought you were the one that drove him away. You thought he was mad at you all this time, but to know that wasn't the case made you feel so much better.

"So you didn't purposely stay away?" You asked

"No, how could I ever choose to be away from my best friend?" Five added

You looked off to the side as best as you could, given that your face was held between his hands, and hoped that he didn't notice the blush rising to your cheeks.

"I don't know, but I missed you." You mumbled

Five took his hands from your face and hugged you once more responding,

"I missed you too. Not a day went by when I didn't."

You smiled knowing that Five had missed you as much as you missed him. Day after day, month after month, year after year, you thought of him as you waited for him to come back. And now here he was before you telling you he felt the same way. It was all that you needed to hear. Well...there were other things you wanted to hear but those were more so desires than necessities. You were just happy to have him back.

"Pull that shit again and I'll kill you." You joke as you give him a small shove away

"I promise I won't." Five replies with a smirk "Although I don't think you would kill me anyway."

"Perhaps." You respond

Five threw his hands into the pockets of his academy shorts and looked at you.

"Care to walk and talk around the house?" Five offered

"Of course. Would you like me to turn invisible so you look insane for old times sake?"

"I already look insane in this uniform." Five joked

"You always did. C'mon, let's go." You say extending your hand towards him

Five looks at your hand, almost hesitant to take it because none of this felt real. Even though he had been around you not too long ago back in the 60s, this truly was different. This version of you hadn't seen him since the day he left. Unlike prior you who had experienced being around him, you had waited every day for his return. There was an excitement and awe that he got from you this time around that made him nervous. As Five thought more about the situation before him he froze up. As much as he trusted you when you said that you loved him the way he loved you Five still couldn't help but wonder if his other self just had better circumstances. He still worried that maybe that version really was just lucky. Five didn't want to get this wrong, but nevertheless, he took your hand. Fingers intertwining, there was electricity you both felt but would not tell the other.

With a smile, you started to walk around the house as you had done many times before, both of you trying your best to catch the other up. The conversation came easy as if the two of you were never separated. Five took in the sights of his old home. Nothing had really changed since he left, minus the small presence you had created. There was a newer piano in the parlor and you had shown off your wonderful room to him. He remembered your description of it from your diary and how you changed it from being Diego's to yours but it was even better in person. As you two exited your room Five looked down the hall at a shut door. It was his room. Five made his way there and you followed behind. Carefully, he opened the door to it and stepped inside. Once more you followed behind and thinking that the sight of his childhood room might be tough for him, you shut the door.

As you shut the door though Allison who had been heading to her room happened to pass by and noticed the two of you in there. Something about you two being together again reignited the feelings of her youth. She remembered the times when you and she had traded secrets about your crushes. The gossip in her immediately needed to tell someone else. Turning back around she went downstairs and noticed the rest of her siblings in the parlor again. Approaching them all she said,

"I don't want to alert anyone but Five and (Y/N) went into Five's room and shut the door."

"WHAT?!" Diego shouted as he angrily turned to face her

"Oooh, juicy," Klaus commented "I remember being 18 and hormonal. Horniness levels are through the roof, I mean-"

"NOT ON MY WATCH!" Diego yelled cutting Klaus off

There was no way his baby sister was going to be in a room with a boy alone. Especially not with the boy who had left her alone and broke her heart. What was he going to do? Break it again? Not if he had anything to say about it. With his fists clenched tight Diego started to march his way out of the parlor. He was going to protect his little tiny princess, but as he attempted to go, Luther, with his superior strength, held him back.

"Let me go, Luther!" Diego yelled

"We shouldn't just barge in there Diego." Luther criticizes

"That's MY  little sister!" Diego retorts

"There are better ways of approaching this," Luther replies

"I want to know what's going on though..." Vanya comments

"Me too," Allison adds

As the group stands around debating Ben leans over to Klaus and says,

"Klaus."

"What do you want?" Klaus replies annoyed

"Is that camera we bought as kids still in Five's room?" Ben asks

"Yeah, we never took it out. Why?"

"The tablet to watch the video feed on is in my closet." Ben states

Klaus looks at him confused for a second before realizing what Ben meant. Getting excited Klaus exclaims,

"Guys! Guys!"

The rest of the group looks over to him confused and with all of their attention grabbed Klaus continues,

"The video camera we got as kids is still in Five's room and the tablet is in Ben's closet!"

"Do you think it still even works?" Allison questions

"It's worth a try," Luther says

The group looks at each other before silently nodding in agreement. Together they head up to Ben's room and search for the tablet in his closet. Finding it they turn on the switch and to their surprise, it works. The picture quality was not as great as they remember but clear enough that they all can see what is going on. As they all stand over the tablet Diego says annoyed,

"Alright Five, what are you hiding from me."

"From us." Luther corrects

The two brothers glare at each other before turning their attention back to the tablet and the two of you in Five's room. Five stepped into his room quietly taking in the surroundings. Nothing had changed, it was as if his room was frozen in time. As he looks around you slowly approach his side. Standing next to him you looked around the room as well and comment,

"It's an odd feeling. Knowing that time has passed but everything looks the same."

Five looks towards you. Of course, you knew the feeling he was going through.

"No worries though, we'll get you everything you need to make this place feel like home again." You mention

"I already have everything I need to feel at home." Five replies, his hand holding yours just a little tighter

Five gazes in your direction but as he does so he notices something behind you. Letting go of your hand he steps around you curious and makes his way over to his desk. Looking down at the object placed there he realized that it's the radio he had taken from Allison all those years ago. Confused as to what he was looking at you followed him towards the desk and saw the radio.

"I can't believe it's still here after all this time."  Five comments

"Well we never gave it back and I'm guessing nobody wanted to come take it after..." You mention trailing off

"Yeah..." Five replies before questioning "I wonder if it still works?"

You shrugged your shoulders and gestured to the old electronic encouraging him to see if it worked. Leaning down Five plugs in the old radio before pressing the on button. The sound of static blasts loudly through the speakers causing both of you to flinch back a little in shock. After a moment Five started to turn the knob to tune the radio, searching through for a station that was clear. Soon the static started to fade and in its place music could be heard. 

As the camera continues to spy on the two of you, the rest of the Hargreeves siblings watch what goes on from Ben's room. Seeing the working radio Allison exclaims,

"Hey, it's my radio! I never got it back!" 

"Allison, it's been years and still no one cares about your radio." Klaus comments "We want to know what's up with Five and (Y/N)."

Allison lets out a huff and crosses her arms. Just because it was old and she hadn't been in possession of it or thought about it for years didn't mean it wasn't hers. Even with her pouting, the siblings continued to observe. As they did so Diego aggressively says,

"Alright Five what shit are you going to pull now?"

"I don't think he's going to do anything." Vanya comments "I mean there's nothing wrong with them being happy."

Back in Five's room, music flowed through the air as Five leaned against the edge of his desk, watching you look around the place. He was absolutely enthralled by you. The most mundane of things seemed extravagant just because you were there with him. A wide smile appeared on his face as he remembered a similar time he had spent with you. You took in the room silently as the upbeat music played. It had been a bit since you'd last been in Five's room, but for the first time in a while it felt warm and bright again. Looking over your shoulder you looked back towards Five and noticed the smile on his face.

"What?" You questioned 

"Nothing." Five replied with a shake of his head

"Nothing? The mind of Five Hargreeves is completely empty?" You joke sarcastically "This is something I'd expect from your brothers, not you."

Five rolled his eyes at you but he missed your quick wit. No one at the commission could keep up with him like you could. As you walked back over to him, Five could see the look on your face waiting for him to elaborate. 

"I was just thinking-" Five starts to explain before being cut off

"Ah, so you were thinking!" You comment back

"Yes." Five replies letting out a small laugh "I was thinking about how this reminds me of our friendiversary a bit."

"Yeah, kind of, minus the food and flowers." You reply 

You were right, there was no food and flowers. How could he even think to compare the two times when this time wasn't as perfect? Quickly standing up from the desk, Five starts to make his way over to the door as he states worried,

"Do you want food and flowers?" 

Reaching out, you grab his hand preventing him from going any further. Stopping in his tracks he looks back towards you confused at your action. Gently, you pull his hand back towards you, causing him to come back close to you. With his hand still in yours, Five asks confused,

"Do you not want food and flowers?"

"No, Five."  You replied with a smile "I just want you."

For a moment, Five could feel his heart stop. Although his expression seemed calm and collected, internally he had no clue what to do. He was so preoccupied trying to figure out how to get back to 2019 so he could stop the apocalypse that he never stopped to think fully about what would happen when he actually did so. And it wasn't until he met himself that he even found out being a teenager again was a possibility. This was the most unprepared he had ever been and the nerves he felt on your friendiversary were nothing compared to the nerves he felt now. If you didn't want food or flowers then what could he do? And then from the radio, he heard the voice of the announcer,

"This is Arlo Vegas with 103.5 WKTU. I hope that even with all the doom and gloom outside today everyone can stay high and dry. Up next, a throwback to 2017 this is Adore by Dean Lewis."

I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm I'm just gonna walk home kicking stones at parked cars But I had a great night, 'cause you kept rubbing against my arm So I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm

Five looked towards the radio as the sound of a soft guitar slowly playing and the lyrics of the song enveloped the room. As the music played he remembered the part of your friendiversary that he could never forget. He remembered how the two of you danced that night and the joy he felt in that moment. Looking back towards you he nervously asked,

"Would you like to dance...with me?"

"I'd love to." You replied longingly

Five guided you the few steps towards the center of his room taking a quiet breath as he tried to calm his nerves. How did he do this so easily as a child? Oh right, he didn't realize he was in love with you then. Turning back to face you he saw as your eyes lit up and your smile widened. So much for breathing when you took his breath away so easily. Gently, he took one of your hands in his as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. You wrapped your free arm around his neck as the two of you slowly started to dance to the music.

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm I adore you

"So is this what your prom was like last week?" Five asked 

You looked up towards him slightly confused. How did he know about your prom? It took you a second to remember but you then recalled that he had come from the future so he had to have found out about it somehow. You recalled your prom only a week ago, it was fun to be with your friends but it was definitely not the same experience as dancing with Five. With a slight chuckle, you answer.

"No, it was not like this."

"Oh, why not?" Five questions

"Well dancing with you is quite different than dancing with Dean, because neither of us had dates and we pitied each other." You explained

"I wish I could've come a week earlier then. I would've saved you the pity by dancing with your brother." Five joked

"Wow, okay." You laughed

"I'm joking." Five explained, his expression softening as he added "I'd never pass up a chance to dance with you."

"Neither would I." you replied quietly

All of my money is spent on these nights, just so we can hang out Spacing in and out of your dresses, I wanna be found by you Found by you

As the two of you swayed you couldn't help but rest your head against his chest. A small smile appeared on your face as you closed your eyes and comfortably melted into the moment. Unconsciously, you started to stroke the hair at the back of his head casing Five to lean into your touch. It was so gentle and soft. Five could feel his heart start to pick up its pace. He hoped that you couldn't hear so because he had no clue how he would explain it to you. Granted, he knew all the words he wanted to say to you but he didn't know if he'd even be able to get them out. 

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm I adore you, I adore you

As your head rested on top of him a thought came to your mind. It was something that you hadn't done in a while and something you had desired to do. Lifting your head up, you look towards Five who looks back down towards you. Had he done something wrong? Did you hear how fast his heart was beating? Quietly you ask,

"Will you spin me?"

Relief washes over Five's system as he gives you a soft smile.

"Of course I will," He replies

Slightly breaking away from you he helps to twirl you around, the smile on your face filling his heart to the point he felt it was going to burst. Your laughter filled the room as you enjoyed your time with your best friend. You couldn't think of anything to make the moment better. Five spins you back in towards him before spinning you out once more. As you spin out quickly your grip on his hand slips and you start to fall back. Quickly, Five flashes over and catches you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as yours find their way around his neck. 

She kicks the gutter in tight shorts, basketball courts Watch me, watch her talk to boys I'm known as a right-hand slugger Anybody else wanna touch my lover?

The two of you look at each other both trying to catch your slight breaths from the burst of adrenaline that just occurred. 

"I told you I wasn't going to let you fall." Five comments

It was too late for that though. You had fallen for him years ago in a situation exactly like this one. There was something different about it this time, an energy you had never felt before. Your eyes were still locked on each other he slowly brought you back up. The soft bridge of the song played in the back but all either of you could hear was the beating of your own hearts. Wrapped up tightly in each other's arms there was no space between the two of you. Each of you wanted to say so many things, wanted to shout the thoughts that raced in your mind, the ones you always had, but no words came out. As Five stood there with you in his arms he finally started to understand what you meant back in the 60s when you said the pieces would fall into place. Everything about this moment felt right like it was meant to be. Like he was meant to be here with you. As you continued to look into each other's eyes there was a magnetism that pulled you closer. Your faces inched closer as the space between you lessened more and more. For a moment you both wondered if you were dreaming but no, this was real. You were here with each other. And as the climax of the final verse hit, your eyes closed as your lips gently pressed against each other.

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm Just to adore you

Tenderly, you both expressed everything you wanted to tell the other without saying any words at all. The years of pining and longing to be reunited had finally culminated into something beautiful. Something you both had desired for a very long time. The world around you faded away leaving only the two of you and your newly acknowledged love for each other. Removing his arms from your waist he took your face in his hands, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He never wanted to leave this moment. This was all he ever wanted, this is what he survived and fought for and now to have it? It felt unreal to him. But it was real. He had you, and you had him, and nothing would ever take that away now.

I adore you

Neither of you wanted to be the first to part from the kiss but as the final lyric of the song ended the two of you slowly separated. With eyes still closed, you rested your foreheads against each other, relishing in the beautiful moment. As Five held you close, he knew he needed to tell you something. Even if he had expressed it in his kiss to you, he wanted to verbalize it, to make it know and make it real. Moving one of his hands from your cheek to your chin, he tilted your face up to look at him. As he gazed into your eyes, with adoration in his voice, he whispered,

"I love you, (Y/N)."

You could feel your stomach flutter with butterflies as you processed his words. There was nothing you wanted to hear more than those words. Finally getting to express how you felt, you replied breathlessly,

"I love you too, Five. You know what this means now though."

"What?" Five questioned

"You can never leave me again." You answer

"I promise nothing will ever tear us apart again. Not people, not distance, not time, nothing." 

The two of you looked at each other lovingly before leaning in for another kiss. As you did so the siblings in the other room saw everything. 

"Awww," Vanya said as she placed a hand over her heart

"They're so cute!" Allison exclaimed

"They are not!" Diego remarks angrily as he tries to make his way to the door "I'm going to go in there and stop him."

"Luther, stop him." Allison requests

Doing as she says, Luther wraps his arms around Diego from behind and picks him off the ground. Kicking his legs and wriggling around, Diego fights like a child trying to escape Luther's grasp.

"That is my little princess! I need to put a stop to this!" Diego complains

"She is 18, you need to let her live her life," Allison replies

"Not with him! The one who ruined it." Diego retorts

"I don't think she sees it that way," Vanya interjects

As the other siblings argue with Diego, Ben leans over to Klaus and states,

"If I was alive you would owe me $20 bucks right now. I told you they'd come back and get together before Allison and Luther would."

"Oh, shut up," Klaus replies

The rest of the group looks over to Klaus before looking back at the still flailing Diego.

"Klaus makes a good point. You need to drop this and shut up Diego." Allison states

"I will not!" Diego replies back

"If you don't calm down, drop the issue, and let them be happy I will rumor you into doing so." Allison threatens

It takes a moment but Diego soon stops his fighting. He was not going to be rumored into ignoring the situation but for now, he would put it off. Letting out a huff, Diego relents,

"Fine."

"Good, now let's shut down this camera and just leave them be. We can talk to them later." Luther commands as he puts Diego back down

And so as the siblings tried to quietly file out of Ben's room and go off to do other things, this version of Five and you stayed happily together ready to take on whatever the future threw at them.

____________________________________

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @sunsetcurve-1995 @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @shadowycreationcupcake @emily-hargreeves @metor-showers1994 @fivehargreevesforthewin @rinko-san @supernovavision @cicilisthebest @flickbix @hi-v-juice @magykal-777 @zosiaduda @thethirdwheelfriend @mysticracoon @isnt-it-loverly @officiallydarkgeek @lady1505 @always-the-very-worst @tinypandagirl @libidinexx @lemongrabbuns @itwasallred @deadandoverit @shlokage @keksi249 @theoriginalkat @we-stan-fiction @bi-idiot-fanfics @annnagennnie @izzyjojo4 @megasimpleplan4ever @flowertoty @grabthemoneyandletsgo @itsametaphorbriansblog @vanillacaramelhoney @satvaldiva @disaster-magician @margotsfandoms @emily-b-m @bluechildrenlickmytoes @soft-slytherin-sweetie @oceanspray5 @im-here-for-fanfics @thebloodrobin @freestarlight @starcurrent @lilacs-lavender @moatsnow @give-the-boy-a-hug @narikyuwu @whenyouregrungeaff @gabriella-aesthetic @xxtwizztedxx

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Day 9: 👑 Final Curtain Call 👑

A letter arrives in the mail. It is, in one word, beautiful—the header and footer are adorned in a blue-violet banner, edged with a deep red. Gold foliage decorates the corners of the page, granting the letter a sense of style. The handwriting, too, is flowing and graceful.

A large toiletry bag also appears in your mailbox. When you unzip it, you find a wide assorment of jars, tubes, and bottles inside—Each frosted container fades from lavender to clear glass, and rach is packed to the brim with cosmetically elegant fluids or creams. Schoenheit Skincare, the labels proclaim in gold, accompanied by a crown-shaped logo. A large pump of moisturizer has a booklet of instructions and skincare tips secured to it.

***Chapter 5 spoilers!***

To the Ramshackle Resident,

I must extend my gratitude to you for hosting me at your dorm. It was certainly not to the same standards as my usual accomodations, but it served its purpose as our training grounds for VDC.

There is still much to be desired in regards to your managerial abilities. Furthermore, the other potatoes’ vocal and dance skills are still not quite up to par. And their charisma and stage presence? Don’t make me laugh. Of course, none can compare to I, but... You potatoes worked with what you had, and you did well for first-timers. Give yourselves a pat on the back.

... Regarding the Overblot incident, that, too, is something I am thankful you were there for. I never expected for unpolished gems like yourselves to have that amount of fight in you. Then again, I never expected that that ugly aspect of me to be put so blatantly on display. The jeaousy, the rage... I thought I had learned to hide them so well—but it was in stowing those feelings away that they festered into something far more unsightly than what they originlly were. No amount of makeup or acting can cover that up.

Instead of me knocking some sense into you, you potatoes knocked some sense into me. The roles of teacher and student were reversed. Even Epel pitched in to that battle. I suppose he has finally managed to defeat me, just has he has desired since his first day. In that sense, perhaps you all have grown much more than I had initially anticipated you would. For that alone, you deserve a standing ovation—you are the heroes of this story.

I have already informed the headmaster of my Overblot, just as I have said I would. I intend to take full responsibility for my actions. I currently await his judgement. Whatever punitive measures he deems necessary, I shall accept with my head held high. That is the pride of a professional such as myself. Until the final curtain call, I shall stand proudly upon this stage. Ironically, that has ultimately been my wish. It may not have come true as I had envisioned that it would, but... no fairy tale becomes reality without a price.

Know this: nothing in the world is simply handed to you. All my life, I’ve had to work hard to claw my way to the top. I didn’t want to rely on my father’s repuation to make a name for myself in the industry. I simply wanted to be seen as “Vil”. Not “Vil, Son of Schoenheit”. To that end, I have never stopped pushing myself to even greater heights. After all, magic that lasts only until midnight is useless.

In the real world, things are not so clear as black and white. There are no true “heroes”, nor “villains”. People are people, their moralities and views colored grey. I see that now—through all the distorted images in the mirror, through all the noise of the cheering crowd of onlookers.

I am beautiful, and I am ugly. Both good and bad. The hero and the villain of my own story. I don’t need anyone else imposing their will upon that.

I won’t lie. With all my heart, I still desire Neige’s defeat at my hands. I want to beat his simpering smile to the curb. It makes my blood boil knowing that our efforts were in vain, that we lost to a nursery rhyme, of all things! ... And that Rook!! I cannot believe he would betray me like that...! I should tear his heart out for that transgression.

... But in the end, I am grateful for those shocks. I think I needed them more than anything. That brutal honesty, a slap in the face to wake me up from my own clouded viewpoint. Perhaps I was the one believing in a fantasy all along, despite thinking otherwise. I was so concerned about how others envisioned me that I eventually lost sight of myself. The “me” in the mirror, in the reflection of my phone... Was that really “me”?

I am no longer that “me”. I’ve emerged from the ashes of the fire, stronger and burning more beautifully than ever.

Do not be mistaken. This is not my defeat. This is only the beginning.

I still want a “happy ending”. To be on that coveted stage until the final act. When the curtain calls, I want that spotlight to shine the brightest upon me, for the audience to cheer the loudest for me. For now, I want to work on myself—for I am still imperfect. A gem with many flaws.

l’ll settle the score, and this story of mine, on my own terms. Watch me from the wings, potato—and prepare to be utterly starstruck.

Do not think that just because VDC is over that you can go back to slacking around the clock. I want you to work hard toward your goals as well. I’m expecting great things of you. Who knows? Perhaps when next we meet, you will speak of journeying to the Underworld and back. Now that would be a story for the ages.

All the best,

👑 Vil Schoenheit 👑

Pomefiore Dorm Leader

Magicam Influencer, Actor, Model

Movie Appreciation Club Member

Third Year NRC Student

[leejungchans]

— new girl.

juliet’s masterlist

word count: 1.5k

set in late 2016

summary: in which juliet makes two new friends on her first day at kq as a trainee.

a/n: uM turns out this is the first predebut scenario for juliet!! as always, let me know what you think and feel free to chat with me in my inbox!! thanks for reading and ily 💕🥺 take care!!

“And here’s the final stop of our mini tour, the practice room,” the company staff tells Juliet kindly as they stop outside said room, which is still dark as no one else had arrived yet. “You’re our only female trainee, so you can train with the boys. They’re sweethearts, but you can always come to us if there’s any trouble, okay?”

“Okay, thank you,” Juliet replies meekly.

The older woman smiles in response as she unlocks the door, stepping inside the room to turn on the lights. “We’re a bit early, so you can just wait here until the others and the instructor arrives. I’ll be at the front desk if you need anything. Good luck on your first day!”

The girl quietly thanks the woman, watching her disappear down the dimly-lit hallway before hesitantly entering the practice room. Truth be told, she never expected herself to be a trainee once again, having thought that her experience at SM was enough for a lifetime. But deep down, she knew that if she didn’t give it a second try—hence why she is now here—she’d spend the rest of her life being regretful and thinking about the what if’s.

Juliet also didn’t expect herself to be so early. She was told to come in a little earlier after school so the staff could give her a quick tour of the building before training starts, but she had expected at least some of the trainees to be here already.

Then again, she’s gotten a lot more introverted ever since moving to Seoul, so perhaps it’s a good thing that she has a few moments to herself.

Still, Juliet has never felt this awkward in her life. Scared? Maybe not. Nothing will ever beat the sheer intimidation and fear she felt on her first day at SM, and though she’s only trained there for two years—much less than most of the friends she met there—she already feels like she’s gone through the wringer. Still, being in a new environment with no idea what to expect is unnerving, especially when it’s so different compared to what she is used to.

Juliet looks around the room tentatively before sitting down on the ground, her back pressing against the cold wall. She takes the time to text her aunt that she’s arrived before shoving her phone back into her bag, not wanting to ruin her first impression on anyone by being on her phone.

She doesn’t know how long she’s being tracing the pattern on the wood flooring with a finger when the door to the practice room bursts open, revealing a tall boy around her age standing in the doorway.

Before Juliet can scramble up to greet who she presumes is her fellow trainee, the boy is already beaming at her as he introduces himself. “Hi! You must be the female trainee the staff told us about! My name’s Jeong Yunho, what’s yours?”

“Baek Minyoung. Or Juliet, whichever you prefer,” she says before bowing to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Juliet,” Yunho tries, still smiling brightly. She wonders how someone can be so cheerful after a long day, but his joyful disposition is definitely not unwelcome. “That’s a pretty name! Did you grow up abroad?”

“Yeah, I’m from Australia, but I’ve been living in Seoul since 2014.”

Yunho nods, eyes sparkling with amazement. “That’s cool! I’ve always wanted to go there. Is this your first time being a trainee?” he asks as they sit, ensuring that there’s a reasonable distance between them as to not make her uncomfortable. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Juliet, and she smiles wider to show her gratefulness.

“No, I trained under another company for two years before coming here,” she says quietly, omitting the name of said company to avoid being asked about her time there.

As though sensing her reluctance, Yunho dances around the topic. “Then you’re already a lot more experienced than most of us, so you don’t have anything to worry about! Did they give you a tour of the building yet?”

“Yeah, but it was pretty brief, so I might forget a lot of it after today,” Juliet admits sheepishly.

Yunho giggles. “Don’t stress it, the same happened to me too! But Hongjoong-hyung—he’s another trainee here, but he won’t be here today because he has another class—helped me, so if you need someone to show you around, I’d be more than happy to!”

Juliet smiles shyly. “Thank you, that’d be really great. Speaking of the other trainees, where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re still probably at school or on the way here! We can keep talking until our trainer arrives—he’s really nice, so you don’t have to be nervous—or we can just... sit, if you don’t really want to talk. Either is fine!”

Now it’s Juliet’s turn to laugh. “No, no, we can totally chat! I don’t know much about anyone or anything here, so that can be a place to start!”

Turns out Yunho was extremely easy to talk to, and Juliet found that the following fifteen minutes or so passed by as though they were nothing.

It was slightly awkward when the trainee arrived with just the two of them in the room, but that remedied itself when a second boy, just as tall as Yunho, burst into the room, mumbling apologies for being late as the trainer simply laughed and told him to get ready.

The atmosphere was definitely more lighthearted than what Juliet was used to at SM, perhaps due to the jarring difference in the number of trainees in the room. Not that the trainer didn’t take them seriously—in fact, quite the opposite—it was just that everyone was less... tense and had more room to joke around.

The change wasn’t unwelcome, and Juliet finally understood what Yunho meant when he told her she didn’t have to be too nervous.

She does find it slightly nerve-wracking that the second boy would occasionally look at her confusedly whenever Yunho talked to her, but she supposes that it’s inevitable whenever a new trainee joins the company. Hell, it happened plenty of times at her former company as so many trainees would come and go, and everyone would be eager to get to know the new trainees. Some because they wanted to make new friends, others because they wanted to assess and intimidate the competition.

Juliet hopes that in this case, it won’t be the latter.

When they’re given a 5-minute break, all three of them walk back to where their bags are to take a sip—or rather, huge gulps—of water.

“You did great!” Yunho tells her, his bright smile never leaving his face despite how tired they all are.

“Thank you, so did you!”

“By the way, this is my friend Mingi,” Yunho introduces, patting his friend’s back to get his attention. “Mingi, this is Juliet. It’s her first day here.”

“Hi,” Mingi rumbles in his deep voice, “I was a bit confused back there because I thought you two were already friends because you seemed so friendly, but I didn’t recall Yunho having mentioned you before. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable from the staring.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Juliet tells him, smiling to reassure him because of how apologetic he sounded. “Yunho’s just really friendly. I would’ve been an awkward mess if he didn’t talk to me first.” The tips of Yunho’s ears turn pink from her praise. “Did you two meet here too?”

Mingi shakes his head. “Nope, we’ve been friends for a few years before we came here.”

She can’t help but blurt out, “Do you only have tall friends?”

The two boys freeze, taken aback, though they quickly recover after a few seconds and burst into giggles.

“No, because we have you as a friend now,” Yunho says cheekily. Juliet can’t even find it in her to be offended, not when they just called her their friend. “Don’t worry, you’re young, you still have time to grow taller! Wait, when we’re you born?”

“2001.”

Mingi grins. “See? You’re fifteen? Sixteen? You have time! Plus, you’re not even that short now!”

“Easy for you two to say! I feel like I’m gonna strain my neck someday from talking to you guys!”

Yunho and Mingi exchange looks before crouching down to her height, though they don’t last long before they whine about how the position makes their thighs burn, especially from all the dancing they did, making Juliet giggle.

“Do you wanna get food with us later?” the older boy asks as he stands back up to his full height. “There’s this stall around the corner from the building that makes really good tteokbokki! Mingi and I always go there after training. You know, we gotta reward ourselves somehow.”

The girl smiles hesitantly. “I mean... if you don’t mind me tagging along, then I’d love to join.”

“Why would we mind? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“We... are?”

“You sound so unsure!” Mingi whines. She doesn’t know how she saw Mingi as scary earlier, because all those feelings of intimidation she felt towards him dissipated into thin air the moment they started talking. “C’mon, say it with more confidence!”

“We are!”

“That’s the spirit!”

a/n: “yunho dances around the topic” haha get it bc he’s a dancer 🤩🤩 i’m so sorry i’ll go show myself out 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️ anyways yungi best boys and i will not accept alternate opinions ✨✨ please feel free to leave feedback and chat with me, and have a good day!! ❤️

[mssirey]

Hope (part 10 - finale)

Everything can now be read all together on AO3!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Kara went still.

Her face melted into a smooth, blank stare, and the sight of it invited icy tendrils to grip Lena’s exposed heart, squeezing until all she could do was gasp pitifully. Lena slammed the flat of her hand against the field that kept them apart, crackles dispersing around her skin, but Kara didn’t so much as blink.

It had taken every bit of her courage to put words to the tightness in her chest, to name the heaviness that beat against her ribs, to acknowledge the way gravity had turned against reason and her orbit circled one person. She had never let herself consider it, shrank away from it, welcomed darker thoughts in its place. Love was a fool’s game, after all, and Lena had long refused to play.

In the end, she was a fool and the universe proved its point in its ruthless fashion, her admission met with utter silence, not even a whisper to ease her doubts. Mercy was never meant for her.

Kara was lost—fallen out of reach—and Lena was ready to follow her, to sink beneath the tide of panic and be forgotten by the world. There was no telling what might surface, but she preferred not to see it.

The first break in the stillness was the soft flutter of Kara’s eyelashes and the well of tears that fell down marred cheeks, salted already weeping wounds. “No, no, no, no, Lena,” she whispered, syllables wet and slurred together. Her face cracked, her brow heavy with her devastation, her eyes stormy.

“Kara?” Lena didn’t dare hope, couldn’t survive being wrong, but her heart wished so deeply for it to be Kara—safe and whole.

Kara blinked, jarred from her sputtering, and her head cocked, her gaze distant, looking inward. “Yes,” she breathed, with a startled little laugh. “It’s me! Just me!”

Lena exhaled all the weight she harbored, sank back to sit fully on the floor, numb overtaking her limbs, closing in on the rest of her. “Fuck,” she panted and her body gave out as tension bled away, leaving her a boneless mess. She laid back, covered her face with her shaking hands, and willed her heart to steady.

There was relief, unquestionably, but there was also the sense that she had to answer for the hand she had in the course of events and she was tapped dry of courage. When she could feel her face again, she turned onto her side and lifted onto still trembling hands. She crawled until she felt her legs could support her and then set herself to task.

Kara called after her, her voice warbling and frantic. “Lena, where are you—”

“If Lex thinks I can’t break into a cell I designed, he only has his ego to blame,” she huffed, putting her hands to work rather than facing the continuation of their conversation. She didn’t aim for finesse as she pried the control panel open with ill-suited tools and in a matter of minutes, the door slid open.

Kara had gotten to her feet, and once freed, sidled out with her head hung and her gaze flitting between Lena’s face and the floor at her feet. “Lena, I, um… will you let me say something?”

Lena couldn’t summon the walls of her fortress fast enough, couldn’t contain her spilling heart, but for the first time, that wasn’t as terrifying as the thought of never trying to meet Kara. She nodded.

“I am sorry, Lena,” Kara said as she fidgeted, her hands each seeming to work to keep the other from reaching out. “I worried endlessly about what might happen if I told you—”

“For four years?” Lena was reluctant to press, afraid of what she would find when she opened that vein. Her lips were ready to drink from any cup offered—cracked and broken as they were—but she knew poison when it was fed to her.

Kara gave a pained nod. “I hold onto things too tightly— I always have.” She tried to force a smile, but it never quite stuck. “After everything I’ve lost, I…”

Lena’s stomach twisted, trapped in a vice with jagged teeth that rent her open, let the acid wash into her gut and devour her from within. “Kara, that’s not fair.” How was she supposed to justify her hurt when set against the backdrop of Kara’s loss?

Kara was floundering, lost and trembling. “No, I know, hang on— just, um, let me finish?”

Lena could only offer a stiff dip of her head. She watched Kara’s head lift, her eyes turned up towards the ceiling, her lips moving in a silent whisper—a prayer. When her gaze returned, she was steeled.

“I felt helpless… hopeless, that’s true, but instead of trusting what we had, I let my fears back me into every wrong choice.” All Lena heard was that Kara didn’t trust her and it punched straight into the hollow pit at her core—gave credence to the haunting whispers she argued so fervently against when alone with her thoughts. “I just… I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

It didn’t make sense and her mind screeched its alarm, telling her to run. “I was always there for you,” Lena reminded, her voice cracking under the strain of her withering composer, her knees degrading with the rest of her, ready to give out.

Kara chewed at her lip, but forced her chin to stay lifted, refusing to bend under her guilt. “You were,” she managed. “You’ve always made me feel so whole and I—” her eyes closed as tears streamed down her cheeks, “I didn’t let myself think about how little of me was present for you.” She exhaled shakily before she looked at Lena properly once more. “You deserved better from me, Lena.”

Lena’s doubts feasted, spun every word into another lie, mocked her with the awareness that there was no way to truly know if she was being spoon fed exactly what she wanted to hear. She needed something tangible to hold onto, and without thinking, found herself walking forward. Kara let her approach, watched with wide eyes, her uncertainty stiffening her back.

Lena stepped into Kara’s space and hesitantly reached out. Kara’s hands untangled and fell away from each other, affording Lena more room, and she took it. As soon as her arms encircled Kara, she sank forward, no longer able to deny needing to be held.

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” Kara whispered into her hair as she wrapped Lena up in the shelter of her embrace, cautious at first, but then shifting to pull Lena closer, taking the weight from her with sturdy hands.

Kara’s support allowed her to let go of her boxes, to let the seams of her wretched masks unravel, to fall apart and trust that she wouldn’t be alone to put herself back together. She buried her face in Kara’s neck and wept. Lena clutched tight to the fabric at her fingertips, secured the source of warmth that cushioned her fall. Kara made no mention of the tears that dampened her shirt, only soothed a hand along her back.

With the floodgates opened, her doubts spilled outward. “What did I do to—”

Kara shook her head and squeezed Lena tighter. “You didn’t do anything, Lena, I promise.”

“Then what were you afraid of?”

Kara’s chest expanded in her arms and Lena could feel the heaviness of her heart, the quickened thud against her cheek. “I was scared of letting you down.”

That struck a chord in Lena, plucked at the very strings that appeared in every arrangement she wrote. It was the undercurrent that steered her towards grand gestures and worse decisions, and why she tried so desperately to earn affection. She never felt worthy unless she compensated for every debt, and every misstep, and sometimes it was never enough.

For Kara it had been, or so she had been led to believe. She had bought into it blindly, unaware she was staking her heart until it was too late.

“Kara Danvers is not all of who I am, but she was who I wanted to be.” She tucked her head closer, as if to ensure that her words reached Lena’s ear. “She was important to you and I… I didn’t know how to give that up.”

Lena still couldn’t understand why she was singled out and it tightened her throat until she couldn’t swallow the reasoning.

Kara was important to everyone. She forged light out of her own darkness; she strived not only to be good, but to see good when others might turn away; she understood the power of kindness and empathy; she encouraged strength by way of example; she embodied hope, not in grandness, but in nuance. No one in her life would say different.

“Why me?”

Kara pulled back so abruptly that the air seemed to go with her and Lena’s lungs struggled to fill, but then warm, tender hands cupped her cheeks, and she melted into them. “Lena,” she breathed, her resolve beared down upon Lena with such intensity, her gaze unwavering, “it’s because I love you.”

That was one possibility Lena had never considered and it ripped up every logical foundation her doubts relied on. Her mind went quiet, slowly calibrating to the new way of framing events, wondering how the two of them could have been such fools.

“I’m sorry I let you think otherwise,” Kara said, her hands quivering, her courage wavering. “You are so, so important to me, Lena, and you always will be.”

Lena’s hands lifted to Kara’s wrists, fingers curled around them, wishing she could keep them there. “You promise?”

Kara nodded, relief mixing with eagerness in her eyes. “Yes! Yes, whatever the future brings, whatever we have to face out there,” her gaze flicked to the lab door before returning to Lena, “I’ll be here for you.”

Lena’s breath hitched, her lungs over-full, a spark of warmth igniting in her heart. Her shoulders were less burdened, or her spine sturdier, it was hard to be certain. Her tears didn’t sting the same, instead seemed like a welcome cleansing. Her smile didn’t need to be forced.

Perhaps that’s what hope felt like.

Lena didn’t mind it.

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

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CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

[sabraeal]

All That Remains, Chapter 8: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 5]

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 3: Strength Upright: Compassion, Courage, Self-Control Reversed: Weakness, Doubt, Discord

Once upon a time, a troll makes a mirror.

Is that not how we started this story, so long ago? How so many start: a vile creature forges an object. Who and what change in the telling; a troll makes a mirror, a god conjures a box, knowledge grows in a garden. In the end, it is all the same: what is once contained is opened, unwitting. Or lost, foolishly, in a heart so cold and cruel that it becomes bent to another purpose entirely.

But that is merely an allegory, a fiction composed to cover the raw edges we leave when we rub against each other. For that is the truth, is it not? There is no fell creature, no capricious and omnipotent beings to blame for our misery. There is only us, carving our place in our story by smoothing pieces off another. A snow queen is not made from frost and cold but by the blades of others, slicing slivers from her flesh until only ice remains.

That is the truth we cannot bear: the only monsters we face are the ones we have made. The only poisons we drink are those human hands have brewed.

And it starts like this, always: a girl in a garden, remembering the image of a rose, and wondering, how could I have I forgotten?

“You were quiet at dinner tonight.” Shirayuki hasn’t been at court long-- or rather, in court, privy to all its secret signals and capricious undercurrents-- but she knows that this is as close to an “are you all right?” as Haki can come. If confrontation is only allowed the glint of a knife, affection is stifled to a hint of warmth, a fire made in a room one is forbidden to venture. “I hope that the meal agreed with you.”

A flash of pharmacy white flutters at the corner of her vision, frustratingly out of reach. It’s been so long since she’s been there, since she’s thought of anything but silverware and schottische; when she tries it’s like a hundred voices shouting at once, each demanding to be heard. Just like being at Lilias, heads bent over a knotty problem--

“Shirayuki.” The consort does not crouch; it’s best, Lady Mihoko often remind her, to pretend one has no anatomy beneath the waist. But Haki does perch on a cushioned stool, her brows drawn tight over the elegant line of her nose. “You are not...indisposed, I hope?”

A solid shake dispels the fog mired around her. “What? Oh, no! I only...” It would be a mistake to speak of loam between her fingers, of the satisfaction of hearing a pod snap from its stalk. “I didn’t have much to say with my, erm, conversational partners.”

Royal brows raise to stunned arches. “Is that so? I would have thought you’d find much in common with Lord Kazunori and Lord Seiichii.”

They had both been older men, southern lords drawn to court for Seiran’s summit. Kind enough, but they spoke to her as they would their own daughters, which is to say: warmly, but brief. Not of any topics that one might sink their teeth into, lest it leaving lines around her mouth.

“I think they were more interested in talking to each other than to me,” she admits. In part because of her sex, and in part because-- well, her body may have been in that chair, obscuring the twining gods and goddess painted across it, but her mind had been a wing away, wondering if it was yet time to harvest the roku berries, or whether this year’s crop of apprentices knew akegi from yura shigure. “It seems there’s much to discuss before they all meet for, ah...discussion.”

Haki hands her a rueful smile. “There always is.” With a sigh, she sweeps to standing, as statuesque as any marble in Wistal’s halls. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. I’ll have to ask the majordomo to find you some more scintillating seatmates tomorrow.”

“Ah..!” Tomorrow. Never had a day seemed so far away, so much more than a handful of hours between dawn and dusk. At Lilias, the nights had wavered between seasons, some so short she hardly slept between sun set and rise; and others so long that she woke in darkness, only to leave the lab in the same. But still, none seemed so long as this, and for no reason at all.

“Is something wrong?” Haki turns to her again, concern rumpling the curved lines of her mouth. “Do you have plans...?”

“No!” Shirayuki rushes to assure her. “It’s only...you mentioned dinner, and suddenly I felt so...”

“Weary?” Haki offers, when she won’t. Her eyes soften with mouth to match, smile turning her from heavenly to beatific. “I’m not surprised. You have been hard at work these last few months.”

And hardly anything to show for it, in Lady Mihoko’s learned opinion. Shirayuki bites back a groan. She would be sixty before that woman found her approaching passable, and even then, she still wouldn’t be good enough for a prince’s wife. Not when his children might have some chance, no matter how slim, of seating their sullied bloodline on the throne of Clarines.

“Perhaps you have earned a break.” Shirayuki blinks, staring up into the consort’s glowing face. “A private dinner seems in order. A night of no pressure of expectation.”

It sounds too good to be true. “Oh, no! I couldn’t--”

“Give me but a moment.” Haki hesitates at the door to her boudoir, lips lifted in an impish grin. “Perhaps my good brother might find himself available as well?”

Her mouth snaps shut. It’s been ages since she saw Zen, just the two of them. He came to dinner rarely-- understandable, with the summit only weeks away, and entirely under his purview, despite Seiran’s tacit position as host-- and where he went, Mitsuhide and Kiki went too. Haki had been her closest companion these past few weeks, the only friendly face, but Shirayuki longed for someone who didn’t look at her and see a princess, but--

Nervous energy courses through her, jolting her to her feet. Her hands itch, wanting for something to do, and with no plants to hand, they land upon the package on the receiving table. It’s wrapped in humble brown paper, folds clean and crisp, twine tightly tied. Haki’s medication, she realizes, dropping it from her numb hands. Made in the pharmacy. There’s a note on top-- instructions. She’d recognize them anywhere; after all, she’d written more than a few of them herself.

It’s curiosity that makes her pluck it from where it sits. It’s been ages since she’s been in the lab, but her knowledge hasn’t faded; there’s no harm in seeing whether there are any mistakes. An apprentice could have made this, after all. The dose does, as Garack was so fond of saying, make the poison.

She flips open the card, already flushed with the thought of being useful, but--

It’s not some apprentice’s writing at all. Oh no, she knows this spidery scrawl all too well. It was on every jar at her bench, every treatise she read late into the night.

It’s Ryuu’s.

Ignorance is bliss, they say. Always with a laugh, but stewing beneath it is envy and longing in equal measure. A pining for times past, for a childhood never quite as innocent as we remember.

For that is what we miss: innocence. Not the not-knowing, but state of not needing to know. The trust we felt towards those who always knew in our stead, who kept us safe from the dangers that pressed in around us. The ones who protected us with little lies; the small pauses to omit what might scare us, the careful editing to make our worlds the giddy fantasy we dreamed.

But there comes a day where all children must grow up. There is a day we must know these things for ourselves, so that we may see the world with clear eyes. For even innocence can be a cage, should some other hand try to lock you within it.

Ignorance is bliss, they say, but oh, only if they can keep you from knowing what it is you do not know.

May I ask you a question? the little girl asks, her gaze no longer on the garden, but the horizon beyond. It is bent in her vision, the glass made in such a way that each diamond blows out the edges, warping the world around it. She had never noticed when she looked only at the garden so near to it, but now...

Now the imperfection is all she can see.

Anything, the sorceress replies, her fingers wrapping around the caps of her shoulders. They’re cold, as cold as the glass beneath her palms.

The girl looks at their reflection, at the way the wave of the glass make those fingers bleed into talons. Where have the roses gone?

Shirayuki’s hands tremble, her eyes tracing every last loop, every hurried curve. “I didn’t...”

Haki peers around the jamb, letter folded in her hand. “Did you say something, my dear?”

This is the closest she’s been to Ryuu in months; even from where she holds it, the scene of lavender and akegi shigure waft from its paper. Not scented, not on purpose, but just from being left in a desk’s cubbyhole with his hastily tidied samples. His parchment smelt the same in Lilias, fragrant as the hothouses themselves.

Her chest can hardly contain her breath. “I didn’t realize that Ryuu was overseeing your treatment.”

A shadow flickers over the sorceress’s face, her grip painful for but a moment before she is her usual smiling self. A moment that could have been imagined, if only the girl was so sure it was not.

Roses? the sorceress asks airily. I’ve never grown any roses.

“Excuse me?”

“It only makes sense,” Shirayuki hurries to add, placing the card back atop the package. “He’s taken over for Chief Garack, and she always oversaw the royal--”

“Shirayuki.” Her name is firm from Haki’s lips, just shy of a scold. “I’m quite sorry but...who are you talking about?”

So many tales speak of trust as a blade, one that may be used to cut, that breaks when forged from brittle iron. A weapon, wielded and forgotten on the battlefield once the story is done.

But you and I know better: trust is a spell, woven to protect. It is a shield, unseen but always felt; sense by faith and not by fingers. And when it wavers, it does not break, does not shatter like a blade upon a stone; no, nothing so dramatic as that. Instead, it frays, unwoven one thread at a time, unnoticed until--

Until the hole can no longer be ignored.

She doesn’t leave the consort’s chambers meaning to break her curfew; oh no, when the door closes behind her, Shirayuki has every intention to head straight to her own. Her feet drag beneath her, weary from contorting herself into a mold that barely fits. There’s nothing she’d like more than to divest herself of all these courtly trappings and pass effortlessly into oblivion.

But she turns a corner, her mental map of the palace resolving, and she realizes: in one direction is her room, and in the other, the pharmacy. It’s late, but Ryuu would still be there, committing his last-minute thoughts to page while the offices emptied around him. She misses him, a longing so intense it aches.

It would only be a short visit. If Izana brought her before him in the morning, trying to act as both judge and jury-- well, Ryuu would be her physician, once she and Zen finally managed to make it down the aisle hand-in-hand. It only made sense to keep a cordial relationship with the man who would bear the next branch of the Wisteria tree into the world.

And if she missed him, the boy who straddled the line of friend and brother and son both-- there was no need to explain that to the king. It wasn’t as if Izana made a habit of confessing his ulterior motives to her. Though strangely, she thought he might understand that better than anyone.

Or all but one. And he...

Well, if there was a single person who might know where he went besides her, her feet were carrying her to him now/.

Were you to ask the girl, she would say she had not chosen night on purpose. The sorceress had housed her, fed her, loved her in her way; even with the image of the rose burned behind her eyes, she trusted her still, in the desperate way one does when one knows they should not, but cannot bear to contemplate why.

Opportunity chooses for her; the late afternoon sun burns hot, and when they finish their dinner, the sorceress excuses herself to lay down in the dark, to merely rest her eyes-- and does not wake, not even when the door creaks as the girl slips around it. The moon guides her steps when she walks into the garden, bright as the day itself, but she does not need it: her feet carrying her better than memory could.

There is one there, just as there was this morning: a petal, pink and sweet, fragrance so familiar she knew it even without sight.

Come out, she murmurs, digging her hands into the earth. Come out my lovely, my dear. I have been searching just for you.

A tendril spirals up from the ground, tentative. It flips and flaps, and oh, she is too shocked, too awed to help it. Even still, it finds her, wrapping around her finger, and with a single drop of blood the bush emerges, whole and dirt-smeared, from the soil.

What, it murmurs, impatience tinging its words, took you so long?

In the day, the pharmacy is all rush and chaos: apprentices burning tinctures and ushering patients to their rooms; masters emptying drawers as soon as they are filled, only for other herbalists to hurry to replace them. Guards arrive with injuries and nobles with ailments, no moment ever dull while the doors are open.

But at this hour, when the lords and ladies are all tucked in their beds-- or are at least pretending to be-- and the work is done, the pharmacy sleeps. There is no herbalist at the front desk, only the push bell Ryuu despised when she was his apprentice, since it always meant she would be pulled away from him or he away from his project.

A necessary nuisance, he called it once, and Obi had laughed. Just like me, eh, Miss?

She no longer remembers what she said-- it was early enough when he was one still, though she’d like to think she was too kind to say it-- but now she wishes, even if just for a moment, that she could tell him how much of a gift he was to her. How much he had made tedium bearable, even when she hadn’t known it for what it was.

Instead she bites her lips, rubbing at the ache in her breast. It’s hardly the first time she’s forgotten to say what matters, but-- but this won’t be her last chance. Obi might be away now, but he will be found, and she will tell him...

Everything. Every last thought she had since the moment they last spoke; her apologies and her worries, her failures and her triumphs. Because Obi hearing them-- that’s what makes them real.

Her hand wraps around the third door’s knob by habit; even now she expects to open it and see her projects spilled across her desk, to see a curtain closed beneath the other, and a window open between them. To see it waiting for her the way her heart waits for them, empty and waiting to be filled.

But there’s nothing of them there anymore. Nothing besides memories that no longer fit over the space it has become.

Her feet carry her onward, down to the last room, a sliver of light slipping across the hall where it’s been left ajar. She still expects to see a curled mass of blonde hair bent over the desk, long tables sprawled with books and half-finished studies, a bottle of roka medicinally sitting in the corner. But instead--

Instead it is a dark one, a riotous shrubbery of walnut and teak in desperate need of pruning. That had been her job in Lilias, along with Yuzuri’s helpful hands, but is seems no one here has yet talked the Chief Herbalist to task.

Give it a few years, Garack would tell her, and he’ll have herbalists as eager to get into his hair as you three were with me.

She leans against the jamb, a sigh slipping past where her heart clogs her throat. Ryuu had once fit beneath a desk half this size, and now he towers over it even seated, looking more and more like Shidan with each passing day, a man overgrown by time and deadlines.

“Ryuu.” It’s a palpable hit when their eyes meet. Everything else about him might change, but that gaze, so wide and thoughtful-- that never does.

Until now. One moment they spark, a fire lit behind blue glass, and the next...

It gutters, his gaze slipping away.

“Shirayuki.” His voice is so much deeper than in her memory, so much older. And colder too. “Excuse me, Lady Shirayuki. Is there something you need?”

“No.” She clings to the doorway, too aware of how fine her dress is, of how little it belongs in this place, his sanctum sanctorum. How little she belong here, now. “I saw a card you wrote to the consort, and I...wanted to see you.”

“A card?” His eyebrows twitch; she can no longer tell if it’s in surprise or confusion, not on this stranger’s face. “Ah. The powder for her migraines. Did you want some as well?”

“No, I’m-- I’m well.” It feels like a lie, even as she says it. It wouldn’t have, only hours ago. “I just...I’m here for you.”

His knuckles blanch where he grips his pencil. “Well, you’ve seen me. I trust you know your way out.”

You’re too late, too late, the roses say, their sing-song jangling in her ears. I’ve been hidden away for so long, and even now I cannot find him. The betrayal in their voice is thick when they ask, How could you forget us, your flower and your boy, when we have always grown together?

“Ryuu.” It leaves her lips cracked, broken; her mouth no longer knows how to form the shape that calls to him. “I know it’s been...a while, but please don’t think that I didn’t want to-- that I wasn’t thinking about you. I just...”

His pencil pauses on the page, but he does not speak. He just looks at her, the way he would at a stranger, and this room is suddenly a desert and ocean both, too far and deep to go by foot alone.

Still, there is nothing she will not brave, not for him. “It was hard to come,” she admits. “I’m not allowed in the gardens, and I’m not allowed to take patients. Coming here, watching everyone working the way I always have...”

It would have been like watching someone eat a feast while she was starving. 

His eyes soften, even if they don’t precisely thaw. “I know that you’re marrying the prince, and that you don’t have time for m--” his lips press tight-- “this. I’m not upset because you’ve set your career aside.”

“But you are...” Her words limp as she says them, wounded fawns searching of an elusive mother. “You are upset.”

His hands flex as he places them on the wood, utterly silent. “I knew...” he breathes, so harsh it scrapes her own throat too. “I knew you’d have to give things up--important things. But...”

Ryuu had always spoken slowly, thoughtfully. But still, these moments when he meant what he said, when he composed rather than conversed-- it had never taken him to long to tell her what he meant. He trusted her, knew that even if his words came out garbled or his message was lost in a sea of ellipses, she would salvage it, gluing it back together with his intention.

So when he sits silent, it wounds her almost as much as his words.

At last his gaze lifts again from his work, but the glare he fixes on her-- “But I never thought you’d let one of them be Obi.”

Her mouth works, but the well from which she draws her reason is empty, leaving only pain in its wake.

“I didn’t...I didn’t let him leave,” she murmurs, more wind than whisper. “He never told me he was going. He just left without even...”

Saying goodbye. As if all these years had meant nothing at all.

“There’s a guardsman,” she says instead, her voice trembling toward something approaching even. “He said he saw Obi leave with--” a woman-- “someone.”

Ryuu grunts.

“He ran off with Torou, once.” She wants the words to come easy, but each one emerges from her trembling, the way her fingers are against her skirts. “On the way back from Tanbarun. That’s...that’s probably what this is. An old friend that needs help, and then he’ll come right back--.”

“He won’t.”

Each breath is a stab, deep in her chest. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He stands; a production with how much of him there is now. Cautiously, his hand extends, a fist hovering over the knotted wood of his desk.

It takes all her courage to take the first step, and all of it again to take the next. On and on until she’s crossed the room, hand outstretched, quivering beneath his own.

His palm opens, and into hers falls...a seed. Tiny. Blue. As clear as glass.

“An orbia seed?” Shirayuki lifts it up to the light, the plumule a hazy bead nestled in its luminous cotyledon. It’s impossible to tell by sight, but still, she’s sure-- it would germinate, if she planted it. “I was collecting these before we left.”

“I know.”

“It’s funny,” she murmurs, a smile lifting her mouth. “I never did find a blue one.”

“I know.” His explanation comes in fits and starts, a path never worn in the telling. “I had one. I gave it to Obi.”

“You...?” The thought catches in the light, just like the seed between her fingers. “Oh. Oh. But...” Her mouth curls, a silent question: why?

“I don’t know. I thought he might...” Ryuu’s shoulders twitch, as narrow as Obi’s when he first blew in with the wind. Before he settled into the man he became. “When he was ready...”

Of course. Her hand closes tight around the seed. Obi had what she needed all along. And she’d never known, not until...

Not until he was gone. “Where--?”

“I found it on my desk.” Ryuu’s fingers flex, falling by his side. “The morning after he left.”

Where did he go? the little girl asks, desperation choking her as surely as her tears. Where can I find him?

How should I know? the roses reply, thorns in their words as well as their stems. You are the one who left me buried under the ground. How could I watch him when you let us be trapped together?

“Did you...” Her mouth works, cutting itself against her question. “Did you tell Zen’s men, when they came? Do they know that he...?”

Said goodbye, she cannot say, to someone at least.

“No.” Ryuu blinks, his eyes as round and innocent and blue as ever. “They never did. Come by I mean.”

This is not the first time we have spoken of betrayal, is it? Of the wound that never heals, the jagged cut that scabs over only to be ripped open anew. The injury that teaches one to be wary, lest one be inflicted again.

But that is only after the wound is made. When it is first done...

Well, it is strange how long a heart can bear a blade through it without ever feeling the killing stroke. 

“You are thinking,” Haruka remarks, with no small amount of disapproval. “I can tell.”

Shirayuki blinks down at her place setting, expecting to see broth dripped across the tablecloth, or perhaps the edge of her sleeve dipped in yolk, maybe even her tea dribbling over the edge of her cup--

But there is nothing. The white linen is pristine beneath her gold-rimmed plate, her sleeves and elbows tucked up and off the table, and if anything, her beverages of choice are picturesque in their vessels, juice beading with moisture and tea gently steaming. “What am I doing wrong?”

It, historically, has been the wrong question to ask the marquis, sure to send him into a silent huff that will stretch from first course to fifth, disapproval deepening with each sorbet. In his vaunted opinion, the fact her inexperience might cause her to trespass the unspoken rules of good manners is bad enough, but to not know precisely when and how it was done-- now that was truly unforgivable.

However, today he merely settles back in his seat, rubbing his fingers against the cloth tucked over his lap, and fixes her with his unerring gaze. She doesn’t shrink beneath it; oh no, instead something in her chest shifts, almost as if-- as if it grows.

His lips twitch, just the slightest upward tremor. “Nothing.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, stymied. “Then how did you know?”

A single, noble arch lifts. “Because you have never once stopped.”

It is to the tiger-lily the little girl turns, after the roses. They are a pompous flower, no doubt, as proud and self-important as any big cat, but despite their bluster, they are honest. The noblest flower in this garden, hearty and constant, and though they sniff when she kneels down upon their bed, dirtying her hem, they listen.

Have you seen him? she asks, heart lodged tight in her throat. Have you seen my precious boy?

“So what is it,” Haruka murmurs into his glass, “that has you so engrossed, young lady?”

Her lips press together, teeth plucking at the scar. “You told me once that I should know who is my ally, and who is my-- Zen’s.”

The rim has hardly touched his lips, but Haruka sets down the crystal, hands folding behind his plate. “I did.”

“But those are not the one two options, are they.” It’s not a question, not anymore. “Sometimes they may seem to be one or the other, or both at the same time, but really-- it’s their own, isn’t it? Everyone is just trying to do what they think best.”

“That is...” The marquis takes in a steady breath. “A very mature way to see a frustrating problem.”

“The consort has said that she is my friend,” she says slowly, each word shaken loose from her heart. “But she is also lying to me.”

“Is she?”

Haruka, she had said once, these long skirts tangled around her legs, binding fast as any chain, he’s hard to read.

Is he? Zen’s hand was cold against hers, like touching marble. Izana’s had been the same so many years ago; she wonders if it might be a problem with their circulation, perhaps passed down from a parent, but this doesn’t seem the time to ask about his mother’s medical history. He’s always seemed clear as crystal to me.

Though, he continues, mouth set in a rueful grin. After a childhood of lectures, maybe it’s easier. I can tell how stupid he thinks I am just from the degree of his eyebrows.

His brow is furrowed now, a tight knot over the bridge of his nose. There’s no angle, no lift, and Shirayuki isn’t quite sure what that might say about his perception of her intelligence. If it were anyone else, she might even call it concern.

“Is she lying to you,” he asks, posing it like Lata when he wants to ask something particularly perverse as a rhetorical. “Or are you not asking the right questions?”

Her fingers clench tight on her lap, linen rucking up between her fingers. She likes this far less than Lata’s. “Your Grace...”

Now his brows raise, shock stark on his face, “Yes, Miss Shirayuki?”

“Do you...?” The words stick in her mouth; to ask them is to admit defeat. No-- distrust. That the best interests everyone has been working towards are not her own. “Do you know where Obi is?”

I have seen no precious boy, the tiger lily trumpets, as proud as ever. Only a little girl loved by all who see her. How lucky she is to garner such attention!

I care not for me, the little girls mutters, impatient. Where do you think he has gone?

Away, away. The flower bobs beneath its own self-importance. He has been taken away. Down and gone and buried with the roses. Perhaps you are the better for it.

“No.” It’s the truth; he wouldn’t bother to lie to her. “As of now, his location is unknown, even to the king himself.”

She licks her lips, nails biting into her thigh. The orbia seed burns a hole in her hip. “Are they looking for him?”

A shadow ripples over his face, gone before she can follow it to its source. “Someone might be.”

“I mean Zen,” she clarifies. “Or Izana.”

“I know,” he replies, voice impossibly gentle from such a forbidding mouth. “I think we’re ready for the next course, don’t you?”

Innocence and ignorance, truth and illusion, trust and betrayal-- we have meditated upon each, as if they are but separate concepts that can be held to the light and have each facet revealed in turn. But surely you seen that they have all brought us here, to this part, to this singular place: a knife buried in a breast, a garden made into a cage. A girl in each, who has finally seen the truth beneath the illusion.

We should rejoice, should we not? For these girls who might free themselves, might heal themselves? But yet you do not, do you? For you know the trick of it:

A wound does not truly begin to bleed until the blade is removed. And a girl like this--

Ah, her hand is already at the hilt.

For once, Shirayuki is relieved that it is her round-faced guard that awaits her and not a more experienced one. Or worse yet, Kiki, who would anticipate her before she could get a word in edgewise.

But luck is on her side; this dear boy springs from his place on the wall, every muscle tense with anticipation, quivering to do his duty, and she-- she is ready to take advantage of it.

“Ready, my lady?” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, a hound eager to be given his leash. “It’s off to the ballroom next, isn’t it? With Master--?”

“Not today,” Shirayuki informs him swiftly. “I need you to take me to the king.”

The color leaches from his face. “The...the k-king?”

She nods, tight, officious. The sort Lady Mihoko gave her maids; the sort that belonged alongside a command obeyed.

“But, my lady...” He shuffles on his feet, loath to disappoint her. “Don’t you need an appointment to see His Majesty? I don’t think you can just go right in and--”

She’s already walked past him, chin held high. “He’ll see me.”

It may seem humble before the dawn, its petals as rumpled as bedsheets, drawn over its head like a child-- but when the sun casts its fiery crown over the garden, it is the convolvulus that is ascendant. It needs no dazzling pattern, no fanciful pinwheel of petal and sepal to make itself stand above its floral brethren, but only purity of color. For there is no other here that is so purely white, that has a color so simply blue. The tiger lily might roar among the plots, but it is to the convolvulus it bends, when it rises from its nightly slumber.

The little girl watches as the sleep falls from its petals, witness to its splendor. What, it asks, ruffling its delicate mane, could have made you seek me out, girl?

There is a not-insignificant portion of her life that has been spent waiting; not in the way of most of her colleagues-- for water to boil, or a titration to drip, or even for a letter of acceptance to arrive-- but for men with nothing else to recommend them but birth to decide they’re bored enough to receive the royal pharmacist. Shidan had called it fundraising and Kazaha glad-handing, but Shirayuki can admit now, as she flies past Izana’s steward, leaving him and her guard in her wake, what it really is:

Insulting.

The view always arrests her when she enters the royal solar, and this morning is no different; the sun setting, finishing its bright arc through the sky, but the angle of it, with the windows as they are-- it sets the king’s hair alight, a halo burning.

A target, she names grimly; and she the arrow. With his steward calling her name behind her, she takes a determined step toward him.

“Have you not heard then?” Izana asks, hardly bothering to look up from his papers. “I already approved your request to be excused from dinner.”

Shirayuki hauls up short, skirts swishing around her ankles. “Dinner?”

“Yes.” His brows raise, as does his gaze, already bored. “My brother already spoke about at length this morning. So if you seek to move me as well, please note that I have already stepped aside.”

“I...” She blinks. “I wasn’t here for that.”

Interest sparks in his eyes, quick as a struck match. “Then by all means, scold away. At least--” his mouth quirks, too amused-- “I assume that is your intention, marching into my office unannounced as you are.”

“Forgive me.” The steward presses a hand to his heaving breast. “Mistress Shirayuki--”

“It a force of nature,” his master replies, mouth curling like parchment corners. “So I have often had occasion to find out. You may leave us.”

“Your Majesty--” Izana merely lifts his brows, and the man stutters to a stop. “Of course. As you wish.”

“Now,” he hums as the doors close. “Just which wind sent this storm spinning into my office?”

Bound here you might be, but I know the trick of this place, the girl says, kneeing at the bed’s edge. What roots grow here touch the roots of all the morning’s glory. And you who wake with the sun-- you keep the closest watch on the horizon.

If there are any in the garden who know of my precious boy, she continues, the breeze rippling the convolvulus’s ruff. It would be you. So tell me, please...have you see him?

“It’s Obi,” she admits, heat stinging her cheeks. “I want to know the, er, status of the search.”

Izana blinks.

Oh, how kind it would be if this confusion was feigned, if it were all just a show to drag out her loyalties; to force her to admit that even if Zen was her heart, she could not turn her back on her home. That this was simply another moment where she would show him that friendship was strength, and the walls he erected himself were merely a folly.

But there is no smug satisfaction buoying his words when he asks, “The search? Didn’t Sir Obi leave my brother’s employ months ago? The beginning of the summer, I believe--”

“He didn’t quit,” Shirayuki insists, even as the seed weighs heavy between her skirts. “He disappeared, and Zen said he had put men out to search for him.”

A flower has no face, but the girl need no smile, no hooded eyes to discern the sorrowful bent of its stem.

I am but the morning’s glory, the convolvulus sighs, and when the night comes, I fold myself tight. Your boy does not pass me in my waking hours, so perhaps it is that he travels in the night.

But what does that mean? asks the girl. Why would he only travel at night? He is but a boy, a boy, and he walks in day.

The convolvulus is quiet, swaying in the garden’s eternal summer. I do not know, he admits. I do not know at all.

“Ah.” His eyes soften, no longer the unrelenting velvet of the night, but the waves of deep water, and Shirayuki finally has cause to find out: to experience Izana’s pity is a thousand times worse than his disdain. “I am not privy to the movement of my brother’s men, so long as I do not need them in attendance. He must not have put in his last report...”

“Please.” Her hand flies up between them, earning her an incredulous lift of a brow. “It only makes it worse that you are being decent about it.”

His laugh surprises her. “So you’d like me to gloat?”

“No.” Her breath saws out of her, great heaves that shake her shoulders. “I want you to grant me leave to find him.”

“You?” His brows raise, even his eyes widen, but to his credit, he does not ask, but what could you do? Instead his mask settles back over his face without a ripple, the king staring out from behind it. “It would be a waste. I have heard from your tutors that you are making good progress. Lady Mihoko even ventured to say you might make a passable princess, if you pushed out an heir fast enough.”

Her mouth twitches. Only yesterday, she would have nearly fainted with relief, but today-- “What praise.”

There’s a stern tilt to his mouth, a forbidding set to his eyebrows; if she didn’t know any better, Shirayuki would call it concern. “As I recall, our agreement did address this.”

“Then you mean...?”

“Yes.” He nods, splaying his palms across his desk, almost as if he were bracing himself. “If you leave the palace grounds, you forfeit your chance to be the one at my brother’s side. A princess leaves such things in the hands of her guardsmen--” his mouth twitches-- “and her husband.”

You want her to go, do you not? Even now you quiver at the edge of your seat, begging this little girl to open her eyes, to keep them open, to see through the illusion and run as fast as she can. You want her to leave the garden, to break through the last of this enchantment and leave safety behind.

But tell me, what would you do, with the knife quivering it in your chest? To forget it is to live with the pain. To remove it is to be free.

An easy choice, you might say. Who could live with a blade in their breast? Ah, but do not forget:

There is no way to know if the wound is fatal until the knife is removed.

“There is something I wonder, Mistress Shirayuki.”

His musings shatter the brittle silence between them; that fragile bulwark that has kept her in his skin. Now that it’s gone, she trembles, every muscle in her body fighting the urge to cross the king’s study and shake him until decency falls it.

A hopeless quest if there ever was one. “Is there something else you could possibly say to me?”

She says it sweetly; most would hear only that-- the tone rather than the content. But Izana has not sat so long on his father’s throne by being that sort of man; no, his mouth curls, amused.

“No. It’s only...” he hums, gaze lifting from his paper. “I wonder when you started to think Obi left.”

Then what do you know? the girl says, anger and bile rising in her tone. What good are you?

A flower cannot smile, but she feels teeth when it replies, I know that it will cost you, and cost you dear.

Izana might as well have struck her. Shirayuki rocks back on her heels, only just catching herself before she trips over her own hem. “I-I...what do you...?”

“When you came in here, you first talked as you had before.” Long fingers knit beneath his chin, though he does not deign to rest on them, not alert as he is. A cat before a kill, still toying with with the prey between his paws. “You insisted on his disappearance-- the implication being, of course, that you deny his own agency in his departure. Kidnapping or coercion, one might say.”

She cannot see its teeth, but Shirayuki isn’t so foolish to believe there is no trap. “Y-yes..”

“But now you come to me and ask after my men.” His mouth quirks. “You ask for my permission.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” she asks, fingers clenching in her skirts. “A princess wouldn’t depart without the approval of her liege.”

“Of course.” He waves a hand, as if all those rules she spent late nights learning mean nothing at all, as if they were worth less than the paper on which they had been printed. “A princess would. But you, Miss Shirayuki, you--” his eyes spark, the way she only saw that night in Lilias as he closed the gates-- “you jump from windows. You follow a flower into a cave. If you truly believed your companion in danger, I doubt there is a single promise that would keep you by my side.”

She cannot breathe, let alone hazard an answer. Not when even a flutter of an eyelash could give her away.

“Which begs the question, doesn’t it?” His gaze fixes her to where she stand, pins through a moth’s wings. “Just what reason would make him leave?”

Me? the girl cries, already thinking of her lovely red shoes, of the boat they bought her down the river. Why me?

Because my dear, the convolulus hums. It is your fault that he has left.

The doors swing open, and the steward steps inside, sparing her an infuriatingly smug glance. “Sir Lowen, Your Majesty.”

“A moment,” the king tells him, “Mistress Shirayuki and I are nearly done her.”

The man nods. “I will tell him to await your will.”

Shirayuki blinks. “What--?” It’s trial to catch her breath, to make her heart stop pounding in her breast. “What is Mitsuhide doing here?”

“You need an escort to your dinner, do you not? I thought he would be the most palatable option for you.” Izana fixes her with a meaningful look. “I do hope you find your answers, Mistress Shirayuki.”

You don’t know me. Obi’s gaze is raw in her memory, too gold. You don’t know anything about me.

You know how he is. Zen’s smile curls at the edges, brittle, like parchment pasted to vellum. Obi has always come back on his own before.

Zen will take care of it. Mitsuhide won’t meet her gaze. I’m sure Obi will be back any day now.

“Don’t worry.” It’s a miracle that the words don’t catch between her teeth, the way she’s clenching them. “I will.”

A hand wraps around a hilt. A breath shudders. And with one, swift tug--

The blade moves but an inch.

[beautyofthend]

I follow you on Twitter and am very impressed with your reading of the nuances within the show. I am very much in the Jack and Nikki team. I do like Harry but having seen all the episodes I went back to rewatch the Harry years and I have a few observations which are niggling at me. I didn't want to risk a huge barrage of hate. I find the potential Harry romantic storyline with Nikki very jarring now as some of his actions have me questioning his motivations. 1: His choices of dates are very often questionable (but then so we're a lot of Nikki's) and when Nikki always seemed to be more flirty and trying to create the moments between them Harry was quite cheeky and jokey but not really overtly romantic. 2: When she's knocked out and in hospital- Leo has to remind Harry to visit and when he does he asks questions send then runs off. Not much caring sympathy. 3: In Africa when Nikki gets held overnight, Harry is with the young girl, and when Leo mentions it, not much emotion (unlike Jack - screw that!!) 4: Harry leaving that Naomi Silverlake to look after Nikki she clearly isn't well and nobody connected to the case should be even anywhere near , Jack is almost too overprotective of her especially anyone getting close to Nikki. 5: And lastly, he just leaves! When Harry is thought to be dead Nikki comes running and is distraught but still Harry does things on his own. When it's Nikki in Mexico Jack is nearly always with her... Anyway these are my mad ramblings. Perhaps I am too biased for Jack and comparing them is wrong as they were younger then etc. I would love to hear what you think and totally don't mind if you tell me i'm wrong of off whack. I needed to get it out my brain.

Thanks for listening.

OMG I love it when people send me stuff like this and honestly I GET IT!! I really, really do, going back to watch it again I am giving Harry more of a chance than I would usually (because I am open to having my mind changed) and I am giving Harry/Nikki as a ship a chance. Because I do see why people ship them, they are cute. I enjoy the flirty banter and I do think they reached a point where they fell in love with each other, but, realistically, they wouldn’t have worked if they got together.

I’ll just address your points as such, 1. YES!! I also find it interesting that Harry very rarely goes for blondes, they tend to be brunettes (unlike Jack who’s romantic interests are often blonde exc. Chrissie - who was used intentionally to oppose Nikki - and Silva - who too was used to oppose Nikki and show Jack going for someone who is her opposite because if he didn’t want to be reminded of her and how he has hurt her).

2. From what I remember that episode, it’s mainly Leo by her bedside, right? I’m sure Harry occupies much of his time, whilst she’s in hospital, with the other female doctor that Nikki had been investigating. Which was always odd to me, surely your priority would be your friend who’s panicking because she can’t remember things? (I will keep this in mind for when I rewatch the ep tho!!)

3. All I remember from that episode was Leo being the one to get Nikki out of prison whilst Harry was/was not shagging that girl so honestly you’re spot on there (and that happens a lot tbh, if there’s chaos and someone’s in danger, Harry is gonna be shagging someone).

4. AH A Guilty Mind is an episode I always think about when it comes to Harry/Nikki because it always stands out to me. Especially with the scene you’ve addressed because Harry could’ve easily bailed on the meeting with Leo and the detectives, he could’ve easily phoned and said “Nikki’s not well, I’m worried and I don’t want to leave her on her own,” and I’m 100% sure Leo would’ve been fine with that. But, like you say, he leaves her with someone he shouldn’t have left her with and that always grips my shit.

5. You’re not on your own for getting annoyed at Harry leaving her when she finally sees him again after thinking he was dead. He had his reasons and I get that, but he could’ve stayed longer, even if it was just to reassure her.

My overall opinion, at the moment, for Harry/Nikki is that they were cute and in love (eventually) but they weren’t a slow burn or a will they, won’t they. They rushed a kiss between them and that, unfortunately, set them up to fail. They’re not a will they, won’t they because they did and it didn’t work. I always think Nikki was more in love with Harry than Harry was with her. And it’s that point of, there was nothing stopping them. There was nothing in their way of being together.

At least with Jack and Nikki, Matt got between them the moment they realised how deeply they felt about each other. But Harry and Nikki had so many opportunities to be together and they never took them and then you have to ask why? Why didn’t they? Because that kiss happened too soon, because their love for each other changed. They went from being in love to just loving each other as brother would love a sister. I don’t know, I know I won’t/don’t overly ship them but I do see why people do. I just think, for me personally, they had their chance and they didn’t take it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But know you’re not alone in your opinions!! And I love hearing them <3