#so many people died. so many people were already dirt poor. my mom and i cannot leave bc she is a hospital worker.

[club-prideguin]

Hey uh. Is anyone seeing my posts....?

[well-fuuuck]

The Link's Parents

These are just some headcanons I had on the Link's biological parents (or where I give the boys more trauma than they already have). I have a lot more thoughts on this topic than I originally thought, so this is a long post lmao.

Just a slight warning, this post does contain some triggering topics - bad parenting, absent parents, parents dying, alcoholism, allusions to abuse, allusions to suicide (nothing too explicit, and I don't think its too bad, but just as a warning)

So just stay safe, my friends

Warriors - he came from a poor family that lived in a poor area of castle town. His dad worked two jobs, so was rarely home while his mom was a seamstress. She worked from home, taking odd jobs from neighbors and fixing and making their clothes. Warriors has a sister (hi Linkle), but his parents weren’t able to feed so many mouths. When Linkle and Warriors were 9, they sent Linkle to a family friend who lived on a farm where she grew up to be a shepherd. It devastated them to send her away, but they wouldn't have lasted through the winter with so many mouths. When Warriors turned 18 he joined the knights, mainly just so he could earn money that he could send to his parents. A lot of people died during the war with Cia - including his parents.

Time - His father was a knight of Hyrule and his mom was a shopkeeper in castle town. They met during the Hyrulean civil war - Time’s father had gotten severely hurt and his mom had volunteered to be a nurse out in the field. His mom was treating his dad and they hit off. Because of his dad’s injury, he was sent home away from the war. They never married (their relationship was more of a fling than anything else), but had Time, and the war got worse. Time’s dad was sent off to fight again after he recovered from his injury but died in battle. This resulted in his mom entering Kokiri forest (to escape the war, but also she never had wanted to be a mother in the first place) and leaving Time there.

Twilight - his parents were young, dumb, and in love when they had him. His father thought he had been ready for fatherhood but heavily underestimated how much energy and time and selflessness it took. The father left the picture fairly early on (twi was probably around 2 or 3). Twi doesn’t remember his father at all. His mom stayed and cared for him until one day it had just been too much. Being a single mom is hard, and she couldn't handle it anymore (much like the father). The only thing Twi remembers is the image of his mother’s back walking away from him, leaving him to his own devices in an unfamiliar forest. He was eight and was still eight when Rusl found him, covered in dirt, twigs, and other various kinds of muck. Twilight doesn’t remember how long he was in Faron woods alone or how he even managed to stay alive by himself.

Hyrule - I'm pretty sure it's canon that Hyrule is a foreigner? Like he's not Hyrulean, which is kinda ironic considering his hero title. Anyway, his parents come from a far-off land across the ocean somewhere (who cares about the destination? I sure don't). Hyrule got his adventurous spirit from his mother, who was constantly traveling and finding new places to explore. His father was a hunter. The two met when his father found his mother trying to help a rabbit get his foot out of a bear trap. The rabbit would have been Hyrule's father's dinner, but his mom was adamant about healing the rabbit. The two hated each other at first, but they kept running into each other. Eventually, his father found Hyrule's mom in a precarious situation involving vines, a monster, and a broken leg. The two eventually were able to talk, get closer as Hyrule's mom's leg healed, and they had Hyrule. When Hyrule was still a baby (a year or two at most) there was a major outbreak of some serious sickness. Everyone who got sick died. When Hyrule's parents got sick, they didn't want Hyrule to fall to the same sickness - so they sent him away with some other people who were leaving on a boat to a land called Hyrule. A place that would be safe from the sickness.

Wild - well, it’s canon that his dad was a knight, we all know this. But he had two dads, one a knight, the other a chef in the town of Hateno. The two had met when the knight was stationed in Hateno for a while. The chef would cook meals for the knights, and maybe he would make a little extra something for that one special knight with the pretty blue eyes. And who wouldn't fall in love with a chef that cooked you special meals and flirted with you till sundown? So the two eventually got married and had Wild through a surrogate. When Wild was 3 they had another baby through another surrogate, a baby girl. Wild would grow up to be a knight like his father, and grow up to love cooking just as much as his other dad.

Legend - I know a lot of people are a fan of Legend being Zelda's sister...but meh. I'm just gonna create a whole new story for Legend's parents. Both of his parents were Hyrulean knights, both were stationed in Kakariko village (which is how they originally met). Legend's dad spent weeks trying to 'woo' his mom (Legend's mom was already infatuated with the guy from the start, but she liked the attention he was giving her when she teased him). The two dated for a long time before getting tying the knot (they dated for five years, then married on a whim without telling anyone). They were also married for a while before having Legend (almost another 5 years). Legend grew up with two happy parents for about ten years, before his mom was killed in a robbery gone wrong. His dad did not take it well, he stopped showing up to work, stopped eating, drinking, he stopped taking care of himself. Legend doesn't really remember how long that period of his life lasted, but he knew when it ended. His dad couldn't live without the love of his life, so he went to go be with her. From then on Legend went to live with his uncle.

Wind - his parents were childhood best friends on Outset Island. They grew up together and, honestly, married out of convenience. Don't get me wrong, they genuinely did love each other but it was more platonic than romantic. They had Wind, and four years later they had Aryll. They were...okay parents, if not a tad neglectful. Wind's mom never actually wanted to be a mom, but what else was there to do on a tiny island that she couldn't get away from? So, she held a small bitterness towards her children, felt as if they were anchoring her even more to the island. The father was happy to stay on the island; he was a very peaceful, go with the flow kinda guy. But he knew his wife wasn't happy, so in turn, he wasn't happy either. For their tenth anniversary, they decided to take a vacation. They had heard about Windfall Island and decided that it would be nice to have a getaway for their anniversary. They left Wind and Aryll with their grandma, told them they would be back in two weeks, and set out for Windfall. Wind and Aryll anxiously awaited the two week mark, but when it finally came there was no sign of their parents. Wind doesn't know if his parents got caught in a storm and got lost (or died), or just...decided to not come back. (you can choose whichever option you like best, but either way its sad so)

Sky - his parents were a bit of a...controversial topic among the Skyloftians. The two had known each other for a while, not friends just acquaintances, really. When they were 17 they decided to...ah have some fun time, the horizontal tango if you will. Anyway, that ended up with Sky being born to the two of them, with the couple not even married yet. They decided to not get married, though, because they didn’t love each other and knew that if they married it would just create bitterness between the two of them. So they raised Sky between the two of them just as friends and quickly became best friends. One year, maybe a year or 2 before the events of Skyword Sword, a plague hit Skyloft. Sky’s parents were two unfortunate ones that died early on from the plague.

Four - His parents were really in love and were a popular couple around town. They had been childhood friends, and that developed into them falling in love and marrying. They were married for two years before getting pregnant. Unfortunately, Four’s mom died in childbirth. His dad was wrecked after his wife died and drowned himself in some liquid courage. Four's dad was almost always drunk and couldn't take care of Four. Four’s dad ended up giving Four’s custody over to Grandpa Smith (four was probs around 2 or 3). Four doesn’t see his dad very often and doesn’t have any positive feelings towards him. Grandpa Smith and Four were close before his adventures - but they got even closer when Four needed help with the splitting and re-merging himself together.

[madam-miss-fortune]

Reasons Why Harry Potter was Abused:

Alright, so, back then, orphanages were already gone. The foster system would have been the alternative to Harry being raised by the Dursleys, and...well.... That's no good. And the Dursleys most certainly did horribly abuse Harry. Especially with that threat.

Physical Abuse

It's canon that Dudley and his gang made a game called "Harry Hunting" where they chased Harry around and beat him if they caught him. It was bad enough that Harry apparated himself onto the school roof just to escape. Apparition is supposed to be difficult and there's a high risk of splinching. And considering Harry didn't know magic was real and shouldn't have known about apparition, it says a lot about how desperate he was. Imagine an elementary school kid suddenly getting into a car and driving without crashing. That's how rare and amazing it was. So it must have been pretty bad. Also, it was made fairly clear that Vernon and Petunia ignored this behaviour, if not outright encouraged it. And Vernon did wack Harry around a few times.

Also, Petunia smacked him with a frying pan at least once on the head. It could very well have been burning hot, but I'd need to consult the book for that. And you know that being hit with metal is ridiculously painful. There was also that time she cut all of his hair off except for the fringe without his permission, which would be considered a form of abuse, clearly.

And Marge canonically let Ripper chase Harry up a tree and poor Harry couldn't get down until midnight.

Emotional Abuse

They called him "boy" and "freak" all the time. For all we know, the fanfic trope of Harry not even knowing his name until he was school age was completely correct.

They told him that his parents were jobless drunks that died in a car crash and his mum was a prostitute. How was that not emotionally damaging?

They didn't care one bit about him and made that obvious by always leaving him out, screaming at him, and treating him like he was dirt under their shoes. And they taught Dudley this behaviour as well.

Physical Neglect

His bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs until he was 11. They only moved him when they thought they were being spied on. And they had two functioning bedrooms! A guest room and Dudley's second bedroom. Bloody hell....

He was thrown into the cupboard and kept there for days to weeks on end as punishment. He very likely didn't receive much food, or light either. The latter likely would have contributed to his poor eyesight. And he probably looked sickly pale, too.

I highly doubt he went to an eye doctor to get glasses, either. Petunia probably got them from the charity bin or something. And even if she didn't, they're years out of date. I have glasses myself, had them since I was 8 (but not the same pair, duh), and I need to get a new prescription every year. I'm getting a new one soon. Eyesight doesn't normally stop getting worse for people with bad eyesight until we're about 20-something. And Harry has always had the same iconic pair, which, by the way, kept getting broken and the Dursleys didn't care. That probably made his eyesight worse, too. Wearing the wrong prescription damages eyes.

He was fed very little. We know from COS and OOTP that Harry was fed only a little of stale soup and tea or whatever. I forgot. But I know that he gave most of it to Hedwig—the kind boy that he is. So he was very malnourished. And he wouldn't have been very tall either. He would have been short and skinny. He was probably as small as a first year for the longest time. And six school years of being fed well doesn't do much to combat 10 years of malnutrition, especially when Harry probably still ate only a little bit at a time to combat refeeding syndrome. And all that progress was destroyed every summer.

His clothing was only ever Dudley's cast-offs, and it was far too large for him. And considering how many presents they buy for Dudley every year, they have more than enough to support Harry, too.

They made him do chores, too. They forced him to make breakfast for them all when he was 11. Sure, yeah, at 11 I made breakfast for my siblings and I when my mom was still sleeping. But more often than not, she wanted to be there to supervise, even though she knows that I've always been perfectly fine cooking. Also, I wouldn't trust an 11-year-old to handle making bacon. Just saying. I'd watch that kid like a hawk. I only learned to make stuff like hamburgers when I was 13, though that was mostly because I wanted to learn and because my family is sexist, but I'm not getting into that.

Emotional Neglect

They hated him. Plain and simple. They ignored him on good days and screeched at him on particularly bad ones. There is one line in the book I distinctly remember. It's the one where Petunia woke Harry up on Dudley's birthday.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Does that sound kind to you? No. She had rapped on the cupboard door, and I distinctly remember that Harry had to flick a spider off of a sock. What the fuck? And he was used to it!

Conclusion

I won't get into any more of this. I just can't. I've made my point clear. The Dursleys horrifically abused Harry and I'm fully of the belief that he would have been better off at an orphanage. And it's not like they wanted to take him in, either! Dumbledore left him on a doorstep in November with nothing more than a note. But that's another problem. And plenty of people are forced to take in kids they didn't ask for, but do they treat those children like shit? No! At least not all of them.

So, yes, the Dursleys did abuse Harry. His childhood was the stuff of nightmares. And I won't tolerate anyone saying that it "wasn't that bad" or "the Dursleys didn't want him in the first place". Because it was, and even though they didn't want him, that gave them no right to treat him as they did.

I know fanfiction loves to make the abuse worse, but they don't really need to. It's already extremely bad as it is. And I didn't even get into all the effects that this treatment had on Harry's mental state—or should have, at least. Rowling wanted an abused underdog that didn't have any symptoms of one. Damn her.

And I didn't even want to mention how Dudley was abused as well, just on a completely different spectrum than Harry. Any objective person that saw this treatment of both boys would have been extremely horrified and disgusted.

Alright, so, this is it. That's all I have to say.

[crushing-on-nico-di-angelo]

Seven Nights in Cabin Thirteen

I’m inspired by another post I saw here that I didn’t wish to hijack lol, and OP deactivated or else I’d link their account here. credits to @the-ghost-king for the idea of a demigod therapy/Will being a past drug addict on this post. Yes this is a bad fic. It’s also my first fic ever. Please criticize if you see anything

Will never thought that he would ever appreciate his first monster attack. He was seven years old, and in hindsight his teacher probably only worked there to prey on young demigods (at least, that’s why he suspects the attack happened so early in his life compared to other demigods). But when Lee Fletcher sat him down 4 years later and told him that he was trans and would now be known as Lee instead of his birth name, Will knew that everything happened for a reason.

After many conversations with Lee about how he knew (gods bless that man’s patience) and with an older Athena camper who’s special interest dealt in psychology, Will realized the reason that he always felt disconnected from his mom and sisters in Austin was because he was like Lee. He was a boy.

Telling people wasn’t easy. Of course his older brother had to know; he was the one who introduced Will to this concept. Telling the rest of camp was as easy as telling Chiron, who told Dionysus, who always threatened to turn anyone into a dolphin if they talked shit about any trans kid. Telling his mom... that had to be the hardest part. How was he supposed to tell them? The only similarities they all had were that they were all musically inclined and that they were all girls.

Apparently, Will forgot that Naomi Solace was a musician. The music industry has more queers than an all girl’s school GSA. Her only questions were “Alright, what’s your name then, kiddo?” and “When do you want to set up an appointment with a therapist?” As for his siblings, well, let’s just say the oldest, Frankie, always knew. And it didn’t take long for seven-year-old Mickey to cut her doll-that-somehow-looked-exactly-like-Will’s hair and change his notes from high to low when she accompanied his singing on violin, as part of voice training.

Four years has passed since then and Will can hardly believe it. He’s stealth back at Austin because it’s just easier that way, but since a quarter of the camp knew him since he was seven, he figured there was no point; it isn’t like anyone treated him as though he wasn’t a man-- er, boy-- at camp anyways. So, life went on. He got his period for the first time during the Battle of Manhattan, that was no fun, but luckily Thalia was cool about it and made sure not to tell anyone. He started binding shortly afterwards, got a couple bruises hear and there. Kayla yelled at him for a week for that one, he remembers fondly. Discovered why it’s better to take off your contacts in the shower... that day isn’t such a fond memory. That was the first and last time he ever made himself bleed. Although, he will say that’s what sparked his interest in medicine and what made him the best doctor Camp Half Blood had seen in decades at the mere age of 15 years old. Life at camp was good, if a bit dull. He got used to the routine and the constant influx of damaged campers, the siblings and friends, and the always-perfect Texas Barbecue and Coke.

That is, until the War Between the Camps happened. Lou Ellen woke Will up before sundown that day and told him their plan. They were to hide in the tall grasses and wait for Camp Jupiter to show their ugly faces. Cecil had the genius idea to paint their faces and arms black so they’d blend into the night better, and Will supposes in the hubub of everything they forgot that his hair nearly (”nearly”) glows, even at night. Until Mr. Nico “I’m so smart, I nearly killed myself shadow travelling” di Angelo pointed it out. Whatever, it made sense at the time. They won the war against Gaea, not without sacrifice, and they finally, finally got past all the wars and destruction and health issues that they were able to just hang out and get to know each other as friends.

And boy, was their friendship amazing. Nico had the best taste in music from Will’s eyes, and that’s saying something because Will is a music snob. Nico could be a little stubborn at times, but that’s alright because so was Will (”Gods damn it, Nico, if you don’t take your medication right this second I will-” “You’ll what? Hm? You’ll force it down my throat? Last I checked that was abuse.”). They fit together so perfectly and became fast friends.

It wasn’t always sunshine and lollipops, though. What is, for a demigod? Will relapsed once and passed out right in front of Nico’s cabin. He was crashing from an exciting high that he hadn’t experienced in so long, and he felt so tired and ashamed of himself. Methamphetamine was a goddamned bitch, so while he was coming out of withdrawals, he made Nico promise not to let him leave the cabin for a week were simmering down. He had to make sure something like this never happened again. They Iris Messaged  Chiron and explained the situation, and he understood. He made sure to contact the older son of Dionysus who had been Will’s therapist in the past and said what had happened and they agreed on a session for soon after Will got mostly over his cravings.

So now they had a week of downtime together. Awesome.

“Solace, do you need anything? Are you okay?” Nico asked towards the end of the first full day that withdrawals were over.

“I’m-- fuck. I’m fine. I swear.” He responded unconvincingly.

“That’s not what you said last night... no offense, but I’m not fully inclined to believe you when you look like shit.”

“It- It... it’s not something I’d like to talk about, if that’s alright. And... don’t tell Clarisse, please.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, don’t worry. But I would like to know if this is going to be a common occ--” Before he could even finish asking, Will was already shaking his head and responding.

“One-time thing only, I promise. Gods, I’m sorry I showed up here at all.”

“Woah, buddy. That’s not what I was saying at all. You’re my best friend, I’m glad you came here.” Will almost couldn’t believe what Nico was saying. Then again, did Nico have very many friends? Nico himself certainly didn’t seem to think so. “In any case, you don’t have to explain what happened, or what led up to this, or anything like that. I don't need to know. What I do need you to do, however, is take a shower. I’m sorry to say so, but you smell like ass.”

“Yeah well, I’m…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. How do you explain to someone that he still wanted his drugs, and he didn’t want to leave the cabin because he knew he would leave to go find some before he would even think about going to his own cabin at this point.

“You don’t have to leave,” Nico said, perhaps sensing his agitation. “I have a shower in the cabin.”

“What the fuck do you mean you have a shower in the cabin?” The shock of this knowledge get him out of his stuck mind. “How did you get plumbing in here? How did Chiron allow this?”

“I helped design my cabin, and while I may not have all the experience in architecture that Annabeth does, I do know a thing or two. I did meet with Isambard Kingdom Brunel, you know.”

“I did not know. You- Who is Isambard Kingdom Brunel?” Will asked

“Oh, some civil engineer who is like a million years old.” Will scoffed at that.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. He was never going to let go of the fact that Nico was technically like 80 years old.

“Oh hush, William.” William… never Will, like most people. William… like he was something special, something that deserved three syllables. “Anyways, like I was saying: take a shower. You look like you were up mowing all of camp with a flashlight.”

Knowing Will’s reaction to drugs, that wasn’t unlikely. He stood up. “Lead the way? I’ve never been around your cabin before.”

Nico’s cabin was unlike any others. Using some sort of Doctor Who-like technology, there was a living room, a kitchen, and one room. Surprisingly, the walls were all light or pastel, a stark contrast from Nico’s general (and unintentional) punk-rock appearance. However, the furniture was all a deep black. Nico led him to his room, a minimalistic one with a bed, a desk, and a lamp. Will wondered where all the personalization was, but made no comment.

“Here’s the shower,” Nico pointed to yet another room in this somehow huge cabin. “If you see something amiss or odd… ignore it.” Will didn’t want to think of the implications of that sentence.

He stepped in the shower and oh my gods, watching the dirt and grime wash off him after his 8 hour high-- which he did not want to think about (and not just because the author doesn’t want to taint his search history), it was too embarrassing-- was a wonderful feeling. He was still tired. He didn’t know why, it didn’t used to be this hard. However, he was pretty sure that he tried to clean the entire outside of the hypnos cabin before going over to the Hades cabin to do the same. This was the first and last time Will would ever thank the gods for Nico’s poor sleeping patterns, he had heard him outside and came to get him before he tired himself out more.

He nearly passed out in the shower again but managed to make it out. He looked around the well-stocked bathroom and realized something that he probably should have bothered to notice before: he didn’t have any clothes with him. Fuck. He wrapped a (black) towel around his chest because he didn’t think his body could take anymore binding and prayed to Dionysus that Nico didn’t notice that his chest wasn’t exactly male.

Luckily, the first thing Nico did say was “Is that a tattoo?”

Will looked down at his sun. “Yeah, it is,” he smiled. He remembered the night he did it, it was kind of hard. He ordered a tattoo gun off amazon and had Frankie do it for him shortly after the Battle of Manhattan. Some people might think it’s in honor of his dad, which is fine. It was really for Lee Fletcher, though. His mom totally freaked, for a really long time, but after his C-PTSD diagnoses she realized that whatever works for him works as long as it isn’t drugs or self harm. He knows she wants a future for him that doesn’t involve music, and that’s why she freaked. She thought it would ruin his chances. But it’s right on his shoulder, only visible in tank tops or no shirt.

"It… its to honor the man who taught me I could be myself." Will said after a small pause.

"That's a very lovely sentiment. If he made that much of an impact on you, he must be a very cool person."

"He was." Will knew that Nico heard the was by the way that Nico nodded solemnly. "I uh… I don't wish to be more of a bother, but do you mind if I go to bed now? That shower really helped."

"Yeah, of course. I can take the couch, you know where my bed is-"

"No, absolutely not." Nico sighed softly, as though he expected this. "I can sleep on the couch, in Austin I actually prefer it to my bed."

"That's-- no offense William, but that's weird."

"It feels less lonely to me," Will protested, then let out a huge yawn.

"Alright cowboy-" Will smiled at Nico's nickname for him "-get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Nighty night, Neeks. Love you." he didn't miss the small smile on Nico's face before he walked away. Will has always been very loose with his 'I love you's like that. He figured it's better to say it too much than not enough.

He had found his old stash the night before, the one that Clovis had helped him forget about. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about last nights events. At the time,he told himself that he shouldn't do anything with it, and put it out of his mind for about a week, but eventually his urge to smoke overcame his self-control. He went on a rampage of cleaning and was absolutely certain he looked like a madman. The worst part is, he didn't even know why he did it. It was as though his rehabilitation hadn't even happened, as though this was something that was as natural as getting a cup of coffee in the morning. He was so mad at himself, so embarrassed.

These thoughts occupied his mind until he fell asleep about an hour after his last words to Nico. He slept with no dreams, for the first time in about a month.  

word count: 2,245

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 6

thank you very much for the reviews! really. writing this fanfic has been quite a challenge, but I just love writing a drama, and maybe it sometimes has a questionable quality, but I have fun. thanks for letting me know that you guys are having fun too! and thanks to my favorite beta @theroomofreq, and @deadwoodpecker for listen my crazy ideas 

AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

| H. F |

‘‘The Dueling party?’’ His mother’s sweet but still loud voice rang out in Henry’s room, and her face contorted with joy and, it seemed, fear. '’This is something very big, don't you think? I mean… it's the dukes.’’ Arabella whispered the last part as if someone could hear them and take Henry off the guest list.

‘’I know.’’ He nodded, fidgeting with his hair nervously. ‘’But I need to go with Miss Weasley.’’ Her mother’s face contorted again, and even through the flames of the fireplace, he knew she was thinking that wasn’t a good idea. ''What's the problem?''

‘’There are none… really, I’m happy that one of us can at least step inside that castle.’’

''But…?''

‘’Henry, dear… It’s not our place. Who guarantees that Your Graces will treat you well? Especially when you're not going to be an employee of them, which they can send or dismiss, but you're an employee of Mr. Weasley. Entering through the front door.’’

‘’No need to worry, I’m always camouflaged among these people. I am at a safe distance from everyone, but I can still follow Miss. Weasley.’’ His mother sighed, and Henry wished he could hug her, try to calm her down.

‘’Well, Miss. Weasley could get married and get you out of this job, right? It’s so dangerous, son… You got hurt yesterday, and today you tell me that you were attacked.’’

‘‘We haven’t been attacked, Mom.’’ Henry looked at the small window beside him, night already falling like a gloom under the whole yard. ‘’I’m fine, she protected me.’’

''Poor girl ... How is she?'' He tried not to smile as he remembered how she yelled at him when he Apparated to their safe place, and how she made his heart ache when he realized that she was almost crying with only the idea of ​​him being attacked in front of her.

''Good. We're close to finding a suspect.'' He shrugged, not to say that he had followed Mr. Weasley across borders and that the two had visited Yeovil a third time (fourth time, if he considered the time that went alone).

The city was still an endless war field, cold as if the winter were endless, with horrible cloudy weather, and so charged with the magic of darkness that it drained all your happiness out, being very difficult even to be able to smile. They had struggled to enter without causing confusion - as they did the first time - and Henry could still taste the blood in his mouth when he had to kill a Death Eater.

The boy should not have even reached the age of 20.

‘’I hope they’ll arrest the person soon. I miss you, and I’m so worried that you die or get hurt.’’ Arabella tried to smile, but Henry can see there were tears in her eyes.

''I will be fine. I promise.’’ He smiled at her, wishing he could hug her again. He hadn't seen his mother in almost a year. It was too risky to visit her and be in danger of being followed. There were some people who had reason to want to get back at him.

''Send me news. Now, tell me what you’ll wear at the Dueling Party. ’’

‘’Work clothes, mom. My black robes, and at most, the Auror coat of arms. It’s the best way to camouflage myself.’’

‘’Why don’t you try something new? Maybe you might meet a woman ..’’

''Miss Arabella, it is a party of the high aristocracy, there are no women for me there.'' Henry laughed, not wanting to delve into the thought that the only woman he wanted, he could never take out for a dance. Even though he always saw her at the back of the room, alone, looking at all the other couples while she just looked madly melancholy.

Henry would never understand why no one asked her to dance, when he was ecstatic at the thought of having her in his arms for a few minutes.

‘’If you say so,’’ The woman shrugged, then yawned. ‘’I’ll let you rest… please take care. I’m thinking you are too thin.’’

‘’I’m still the same.’’ He laughed, waving at her. ''Bye. Love You.''

‘’I love you, too.’’ And then she was gone, the flames turning red again, making him hear the sound of the loneliness that night provided. The elves' feet walking down the hall, the wind whipping the trees rough, some crickets and frogs, and a few creaking branches.

Henry sighed, lying on his bed and looking at the ceiling, trying to forget that morning...

As soon as Henry apparated inside their security location - a house where only Ginny was Secret-Keeper - he was greeted by Ginny's scream echoing through the empty house;

‘’You could have died!’’ She threw herself at him, hitting his chest with closed fists. ‘’Died! In front of me and I couldn't have done a thing!’’ Henry grabbed her fists, making her stop. Feeling a little shocked by the reception, even a little dizzy from her explosion.

‘’But I didn’t die.’’ He reminded her as if to say that tomorrow day would still dawn. ‘’And it was the best thing to do.’’

''The best? How is it best to leave me behind while I can see you being murdered in front of me?!’’

Better me, than you.’’ Henry remained calm, even though her skin seemed to burn his with proximity. The brown eyes staring at him as if they were going to read his mind - and Henry thought she would.

‘’Don’t say that.’’ Her voice came out with a tone of hurt that he had never heard before, not even when he met her on a bad day. ''Never. I am not worth more than you. And I'm not saying that to you to say that 'bla-bla-bla of course it is, because you're here to take care of me'... You are my best friend Henry, and I don't know what would happen if that spell had hit you and I saw you die in front of me.''

Best friend... She, a daughter of a Viscount, who had been promised to a son of Duke, who was one of the most powerful witches he had ever met, considered him her best friend.

He, a poor man, son of a harlot who died for her Death Eater lover, abandoned in a dirty gutter, condemned to die... Best friend of a daughter of a Viscount.

Of course, if it were up to him, they would be much more than best friends. Henry would do much more than take a peek at Ginny's sweeping curves, and he would never let her sit at the back of a ball, alone and bored. No, Henry would dance with her, spin that red-haired woman, so alive that reminded him of fire, all over the hall, as he had seen some men doing with their wives.

Henry might even dare to ask for her hand in marriage ...

But that was only if he was someone else. Henry Figg, Ginny Weasley's bodyguard, needed to settle for Best Friend.

| G. W |

‘‘You don’t look good,’’ George said, moving the chess piece and waiting for Ron to counterattack.

‘’Shouldn’t Henry protect you? Why did you almost die?’’ Ron asked, without even looking at his sister, paying attention to the board as if it were the most important thing of the moment.

‘’What are you two doing here still? I thought that now that you had houses, and responsibilities, you would spend less time here.’’ She complained, irritated to the last hair. She overheard when her father argued with Henry about putting her in danger, even though he couldn't have predicted it. Besides, the image of him dying in front of her continued to haunt her like an endless nightmare. ''Wants to know? Don't answer me. I'm going to lie down.’’ Ginny turned her back on the brothers, stamping her feet against the floor and running up the stairs.

It had been so terrifying to see the green light almost hit Henry, and she hadn't even raised her wand before the spell came out and protected him, almost making her believe that she could do magic with her bare hands.

All day, after the attackin the morning, she was locked up at home, like a prisoner. She overheard Ron talking to his father about Miss Granger (and then with George), she continued to read the news in the paper about the Dueling Party - that her parents were seriously considering not taking her. Ginny almost cried when she tried to fly and was stopped by Henry, who seemed almost sadder than she was doing that.

Ginny didn't cry, however, but she was silent all day.

It was so disconcerting to read about what each lady was wearing at the last party, or who they had been dancing with, while she could barely fly out in her own backyard. It was almost torture when Fred arrived at their parents' house showing the new broom he had bought, and when she saw, as a prisoner, through the bedroom window the brothers taking turns to test the new broom.

She could have fought and tried to convince Henry to fly with her, or that she wouldn't go more than two meters, but Ginny was so tired of living like that - or, not living - that she just nodded and sat in the living room, reading another stupid romance book that would only serve to make her realize how… empty, her life was.

Ginny, before the attack, had the opportunity to have, what she likes to call, a near life; she managed to make some ‘’friends’’, and it seemed that little by little people forgot that she had been promised to the Dukes' son and all the drama. Until, someone threatened her in the middle of the park, and her first reaction was to blow up the greenhouse where her mother was.

She didn't remember that day very well, the only thing she could remember was that she felt someone enter her mind and make her feel a lot of pain, and then the next moment was when she woke up on the floor, surrounded by dead plants, glass, and dirt, being watched by so many wizards that it looked like a festival.

Everyone looked at her as if she were a monster, who had almost killed her mother and injured 10 other people who were around (including a child, who almost died).

''Doesn't she know how to control her magic?'' ''I heard she was possessed by You-Know-Who.'' ''She did it so she could finally make headlines.'' ''I heard it was a way that her father found, for them to call attention to her.'' ''That is the dark arts, I'm sure.'' ''I always knew she was crazy...''

Everyone suddenly had a history and had witnessed some crazy Ginny. Everyone was pointing a finger at her. Everyone never let her forget when she lost control over her magic as a child.

But a child does not do as much damage as she did.

And if it was only once... There was that other day, after all the confusion, when her mother took her to a party to try to make everyone forget, and a Marquis tried to kiss her in a dark library when they accidentally met.. She tossed him away, startled when she was grabbed by the arms and tried to be kissed by force.

Apparently, it was a lot of fun trying to make her lose control of her magic and take on that strength that seemed to rip through her chest.

He was badly hurt, but no more than Ginny, who was so embarrassed and scared that she didn't leave the house for weeks. She could barely get to the newspaper without shaking for fear that there would be more lies about her.

''She wants to draw attention.'' ''I'm sure she was the one who provoked him.'' ''I don't even know what he saw in her.'' ''Her father must have paid for them to meet… a man like that would never want to see himself next to a madwoman like her.''

Ginny had never had much freedom, but after the attack, it was as if she could never do anything that involved getting out of the grounds of their home. She couldn't even fly alone, a brother always needed to be together. Until Henry arrived.

Henry was the closest person she would call a friend. They talked, he never seemed to doubt that she would be able, and even in the moments when he needed to deny her requests - like flying alone - he seemed upset about doing it. It was as if he felt the pain with her, somehow.

If she had seen her one and only best friend die in front of her, because of her, Ginny didn't know what she would do.

‘‘It’s okay, Dootie, I can do it myself.’’ She waved to the Elf who was waiting in the room, ready to undo Ginny’s hair (even though she had just done a simple braid), and helped her put on her pajamas.

‘’Are you sure, Miss Weasley?’’ The little creature asked, head down.

‘‘Yes, thank you.’’ And then, after closing the door, Ginny observed her daily arrest.

The window was ajar, magically made to always seem closed when someone looked outside, and the wind blew into the room and caused the curtains to swing. Ginny wondered what Henry was doing, and maybe, if it wasn't so late and so inappropriate, she could go up to his room for them to talk. She always felt more alone at night.

He had been very kind to her - as always - during the day, even when he needed to leave to speak to the boss by Flu, he had promised her that it was not her fault.

Which was a lie, because it was obviously her fault. She, and damn fate, who decided that it was not enough to be promised to someone at birth, but the man needed to be kidnapped, leaving her the burden of carrying a hope that would not be fulfilled, alone.

She felt guilty when she thought of the boy's parents, who had lost a child, at the same time that she was irritated since no one thought she could do anything about it, and that as much as Godric's Hollow had hoped that the Dukes would give the city an heir and keep it under control and away from any dark activity, Ginny had little to do.

But still, people liked to talk about her, as if she had been the cause of the kidnapping.

Tired of a day that seemed endless, Ginny lay down on the bed, fiddling with her wand to make the room a little colder than it already was, and hiding under the covers, where it seemed to be the only safe place in the world. 

For a few moments, she let herself think about how handsome Henry was, and how she imagined that maybe, just maybe, he could look at her differently, and even forget about the social rules and just kiss her.

Unlike the Marquis, Ginny wanted Henry to kiss her.

Maybe he would undo her braid himself and compliment her hair... maybe Henry would compliment her like no one ever did. Ginny couldn't even think of what that would be like...

Ginny heard a noise in the corridor of her room, something like footsteps, and if it weren't for the fact that her parents slept upstairs, and that no more siblings lived there, that floor shouldn't make any noise except when she was the one walking. And she was lying down.

She grabbed her wand, her heart pounding against her chest, rising as quietly as she could, trying to assume who might be there so late.

The footsteps stopped just in front of her room, and when Ginny prepared to put into practice the many dueling lessons she had with Henry, the person knocked on the door;

‘’Ginny?’’ Her body froze behind the door, hearing the low voice seemed to echo down the empty hall.

‘’Henry?’’ Ginny didn’t let her guard down, knowing that everything could be a big trap. ‘’Where did we fly together for the first time?’’

‘’We never flew together.’’ She sighed, it was him. Opening the door slowly, afraid that the wood would creak and her mother would get up, Ginny just stuck her head out, a little ashamed that she was wearing pajamas so old and ugly.

The man also wore pajamas, but instead of being a faded pink nightgown, it was black sweatpants and a white tank top. A tank top that let Ginny see his arms precisely, tanned by the sun and so well defined that it made her squeeze her thighs and swallow. She knew that Henry was strong, but not that strong.

‘’Did something happen?’’ She asked, trying not to let him notice the lack of a bra or how transparent that fabric could be. Ginny was not the woman with the most striking curves, she knew that, the Marquis had made it a point to point out that she needed a lot of effort if she wanted to be as beautiful as the other women.

"I… I just came here to thank you for protecting me." He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking a little bewildered, without glasses, and his green eyes seemed to shine even in the little light that came through the hall window and the fireplace that Ginny kept burning.

‘It was instinct, I think.’’ She shrugged. ''Are you alright?''

‘’Yes.. yes.’’ Henry took a step forward, entering her room for the first time in 2 years. He had never passed the door. ‘’I came here just to thank you, and... and do this.’’ Then he kissed her.

It was completely different from the Marquis' kiss, and Ginny would never be able to explain why. But before she could understand why, her chest seemed to burn and tear, taking all the air out of her lungs, like squeezing a fruit until there is no more left liquid. Ginny thought she might be dying.

She opened her eyes and looked at the white ceiling above her, alone and lying on the bed, sweating as if she had run a marathon. When she tried to reach for the wand to make the room even colder, the wand seemed to spit out magic and snowflakes began to fall everywhere. She was getting out of control.

Desperate, Ginny applied all the tactics she knew to calm down, fearing that her room would be buried in the snow. The same tactics that Henry applied to himself in the room a few floors below, also feeling his chest burn and sweating, frightened by the dream and the snowflakes falling under his room.

[jungkookiebus]

At Death’s Edge pt. 1 | jjk

Genre: supernatural x angst x future fluff Pairing: Death!jungkook x OC Word Count: 1.8k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: mentions of death  Summary: Jungkook walks the path of the dead, holding in his hand those that have passed, ushering them towards the clearing. Along the path, hidden in the darkness of the trees, souls that refused to walk with him hide in the shadows. When he hears the cries of a girl, he tries to coax her onto the path, but when she doesn’t oblige he moves one. What Jungkook doesn’t know is that the girl is about to change his entire viewpoint on life and death.  Author’s Note: I plan for this to be very angsty and sad so don’t expect a good ending with this one, folks. Also, this will be my first OC, non-reader insert, story so please don’t hate it lol.

Death had a beauty all its own, but rarely did someone see it that way. Many wanted to live in the present, gaze upon what the earth had to offer, feel the warmth of a lover’s touch, and bask in the rain on a warm afternoon. Death was not cold or unkind as it was made out to be. As a matter of fact, death was all around. When a flower died, it returned to the earth, and fertilized the soil for the next one. A man died in a car accident but donated his heart to a mom whose five month old will now grow up with its mother. When something died, Jungkook was always there to help it pass along. With a soft touch and a warm smile, he helped those that were afraid and those who were ready to leave.

“Where are we going?” A small boy, maybe six or seven, was holding Jungkook’s hand as they walked down a wooded path.

“To an exciting place.” Jungkook’s eyes scanned the woods. On the path, the sun shone brightly, but those who did not want to pass, stayed in the shadows of the boughs. Rarely did they ever try to venture onto the path. He looked down at the boy now who, in turn, swiveled his head upwards to look at him. He had a head full of shocking red hair and a generous amount of freckles across his nose.

“Mom said it’s not safe to leave with strangers.” Concern crossed the little boy’s face.

“Your mom is very smart.” Jungkook’s smile was warm. He wanted to keep the boy happy and possibly veer him off the topic of his mother. Children always tended to cry when they remembered they were away from their parents. How do you explain to a child that they will never see their parents again? At least, not for some time. But, when children started to cry, the shadows moved closer to the edge of the trees.

A white mist began to form around the boy, an iridescent glow that the dead took on the closer they got to the edge. Ahead, the sun shone down into a clearing.

“Are we going to play?” The boy’s eyes shone with a joy that Jungkook only ever saw in children, or the elderly at the thought of seeing a passed loved one.

“Yes, we can play whatever you want.” The boy smiled so brightly that Jungkook felt a quick jolt of sorrow through his heart. It was heartbreaking when children passed on, but he was the right person for this. His demeanor was always that of comfort and most passed on with no problem. There were others, though, those that lurked in the woods.

“Is there a ball there? My dad is teaching me how to pitch.” He squeezed Jungkook’s hand and he already felt it growing cold. The boy couldn’t see death like Jungkook could. He couldn’t see that he was fading and that his soul was dissipating into the afterlife even as they walked.

“I’m sure we’ll find something at the edge.”

The path ahead of them widened and Jungkook saw the clearing a little better. White mist always seemed to hang in the clearing. Those were beings that always stayed at the edge, ready to help new souls pass on.

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asked as they approached. The boy was almost gone now, but he could still see his smile.

“Yes! I’m ready!” His voice echoed as if he were in the woods, far away from him and with that, the boy ran ahead and Jungkook let his hand slip from his. He didn’t drop his as he watched the tendrils of white mist rise from his fingers after the boy. Almost as if running into a heavy fog, the boy disappeared, passed on from this world.

Jungkook brought his hand to his face and watched as the last remaining wisps of the boy slid from his fingers and into the clearing.

“Goodbye, little one,” he said softly.

He turned away from the clearing and silence fell around him. The mist at the edge was always quiet. It had the same strange quality of being alone in the middle of a heavy snow. It was all at once beautiful, but with something at the edges, dark and sinister. Sometimes, the shadows in the trees whispered. They always tried to get Jungkook to walk beyond the tree line, but he knew better. Even as a bearer of death, there were places he did not like to venture. Of course, there was always a chance of a soul being redeemed, but they would then be able to break free of the dark woods themselves. Jungkook always waited on the path with an extended hand and a smile, ready to walk them into the clearing.

His footsteps barely made a sound on the soft dirt as he made his way back. There was still probably so much for him to do. He stuck to the middle of the path, ignoring the whispers coming from the trees. If he looked hard enough, he’d be able to make out figures as they shifted and moved among one another. It bothered him when souls refused to move on, as if he had done something wrong.

He was almost clear of the path when he heard the soft crying. It was close to the edge of the trees so that meant this soul was new. The longer they stayed, the harder it was for them to get back to the path. He stopped, listening, after the whispers had taken over again. The cries came again, but they were soft and to his left. His gaze averted to the darkness beneath them but did not see anything. It sounded like a woman, but he wasn’t sure. He guessed that she was probably hiding behind one of the trees.

“Hello?” he called out.

The crying stopped immediately.

“H-hello?” It was a woman and she seemed shocked to have been heard, much less have someone talk to her.

“Do you need help passing? You’ll have to come out.” Jungkook leaned over, balancing on one foot, trying to glimpse her.

“Passing?”

Oh dear. She didn’t know. This happened sometimes in tragic deaths, much like the boy, but children were more susceptible to trust Jungkook.

“Yes, but there isn’t any reason to be afraid. I can take you to a place that’s much nicer than the woods.”

She started to cry softly again.

“What’s your name?” She still cried, ignoring his question. “Mine is Jungkook.”

Jungkook sat down in the path, close to the grass that lined the tree line. He would take all the time in the world if it meant helping her out of the darkness.

“It’s Hae.” Her voice was soft, drifting from the trees on the breeze.

“A girl who is like the ocean.” Jungkook hoped she could hear his smile.

The leaves rustled in the trees as the breeze blew down the path from the clearing, a clear indication that Jungkook was needed elsewhere, but he did not move.

“How did I get here?”

He leaned forward on his elbows. He had yet to see the girl, so he wasn’t sure what had happened to her.

“Something very sudden probably happened to you. It’s okay not to remember.”

“I’m afraid.” Her whisper was heard above the din of other noises as he concentrated on her a little harder.

“I don’t want you to be afraid. You can come out.” Jungkook willed her to peer from around the tree. He had pinpointed where she was. Sometimes, when he could see them, it was easier for him to draw them out to the path.

“What happens if I do?” She sounded timid, defeated.

“I’ll hold your hand and walk the path with you. You don’t have to go alone.”

She cried again, harder this time. Jungkook saw barely a flash of a hand as she held onto the tree. The wind shifted and blew harder down the path as if an oncoming storm were about to drench the woods, but he knew it never rained here. The souls were getting restless. He usually did not spend this much time on the path. He sighed as he stood, dusting off his dark pants as he attempted to look in the woods again.

“Don’t venture any further into the woods, Hae. If you decide to come to the path, I’ll know, but please do not go into the darker places.”

She didn’t respond and he could no longer hear her crying. His eyes soaked in the darkness, trying to find her, but it was no use. When a soul did not want to be seen, they could hide easily from him. He walked away slowly, tilting his head to see if he could hear anything from her, but there was none. He could always come back later, he thought.

The balmy, warm atmosphere of the human world began to creep onto the path as he made his way to the living. Here, there was a blur, like the sun reflecting on a hot road. The smell of life drifted into Jungkook’s nose with its mashup of sweet and bitter notes. When he walked through, he was never quite sure where he’d end up if the dead needed him. On his own, he could control the location. He felt the pull of the dead the closer he got to the gateway. The step through always felt like a warm shower and the plunge off a cliff all at once. He walked onto a semi-busy town and scanned the small, squat building in front of him. The road was not paved, and many carts and horses moved around one another. He seemed to be in a poor country and the squat building in front of him that could have passed for a small home was probably the hospital for this small village.  

He heard a gasp behind him and before he could turn the person said, “Where is this?” His eyes widened and his blood ran cold as he recognized the voice, no longer holding sorrow, but shock and surprise. He turned to see a woman with long, black hair, porcelain skin, and the largest eyes he had ever seen. She stared in shock at the people around them as they seemed not to notice their presence. They all seemed to walk right through them, or they went around them all together. She had her arms crossed across her stomach as she attempted to step out of the way of people who couldn’t even see her.

How did this happen? He searched the space beyond her, but there was no hint of the gateway anymore. He realized with a sickening drop in his stomach that it was possible for them to pass back, but how had she done it? He licked his lips before looking back down at her as she stared innocently back up at him.

“Hae?”

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 194

September 21

So I didn't get done anything that involved leaving the house today, which is not great. It was just kind of a failure to launch day, I guess. I did get stuff done inside the house though; folded the laundry, made an enormous pot of spaghetti and meatballs, dewormed the kittens, etc. I will definitely have to leave the house tomorrow because when the kiddo realized tomorrow is going to be gorgeous all day, he was sad until I told him we could try doing school outside by hotspotting off my phone. (unlimited data on the family plan ftw!) He has now come up with an elaborate plan that also involves snacks and drinks, so I may have to get up a bit earlier than usual to set stuff up. I'm nobody's Pinterest Mom, but it's nice to do something a little different and fun sometimes. 

I realized I've been falling a little behind on watering my garden because I got so used to the rain, so I gave everything a good drink and perked it up today. I also harvested some more lemongrass and some ginger leaves and made a very nice tea from them. I learned today that lemongrass is perennial, so there is a possibility it might live through the winter and come back next year. It's not certain because I planted it in the most ridiculous possible spot, one of the side pockets in a strawberry pot, but it apparently liked it there well enough to grow like crazy all through the late summer. It and the lavender both survived, the cilantro grew and flowered and died, and the dill apparently didn't like being there. I did not put any strawberries in the strawberry pot this year because the plants I bought were too big. I think we may have explored this topic in the early early days of this journal but that was a thousand years ago and I do not remember. The ginger leaves just came from some ginger root that I forgot to use and stuck in an unused pot of dirt when it got all wrinkly. It grew beautifully! (Here's the strawberry pot early this summer on its trip to North Carolina. I got it in Laredo and it is one of my favorite things.)

I explained to the kiddo that today was the autumnal equinox, the day of the year where day and night are balanced, just before the nights start getting longer. He sighed and wished it was the other way around, so I also explained the vernal equinox. He was not impressed. He spent more time outdoors today and also a lot of time in with the kittens. They are at an extremely fun age right now, though apparently Audiva nearly got him chat banned on his minecraft server for typing gibberish. I can empathize, Sebell nearly installed the Harris Teeter app on my phone this evening by sitting on it. The biggest problem with the kiddo's current kitten preoccupation is definitely his allergies, poor kid. At least we have allergy meds for him. I also gave the kittens their second dewormer this evening, to take care of any nasty little roundworms. It's only Pyrantel though, so they'll probably need Drontal as well to take care of any tapeworms. Any kitten who has had fleas might have tapeworms, yucky. Better to take care of it while they are young and in foster! 

I keep telling myself that it is almost the end of the month, but it really is not. I can put off shopping for a few more days, but not ten full days till payday. The good news is I did get paid for some mystery shops I did a few weeks ago, so that's 70 dollars in pay any reimbursement that can go towards groceries. I already told my shopping people that I'm not doing any more restaurant shops this month because I'm out of money. They understand, they don't exactly have glamorous high-paying jobs themselves. I may, I suppose, do a couple of grocery store shops because I have to get groceries anyway, may as well take the edge off by getting a little bit paid for, right? If only it weren't the most expensive grocery stores hiring mystery shoppers! I have an extensive list by now that just keeps growing and growing, but the only thing I bought today was another pack of 50 disposable masks. They're cheap on Amazon if you don't mind waiting a month for them to ship, so I have just been ordering a new pack (about six dollars) every few weeks and assuming I will be ready for them by the time they arrive. 

In the meantime, I made a huge pot of spaghetti tonight so that we will have several meals worth of leftovers. I also pulled a ham out of the freezer (buy your ham after the ham holidays, so cheap!) and by the time the spaghetti is gone, the ham should be ready to cook. My husband doesn't like ham by itself much, but ham is incredibly versatile and can go into a million things. Plus ham salad is one of my favorite lunch foods ever. Anyway, I chopped up an onion and cooked it in a little butter till it was just starting to go a little golden, then threw in garlic and a pound of ground beef and a bunch of Penzey's Pasta Sprinkle. I used my Dutch oven because I wanted to make _lots._ When the meat was cooked I sponged off some of the grease with paper towels, then added an undrained can of diced tomatoes, a couple spoonsful of sugar, some salt and pepper, and three cans of the cheapest brand of spaghetti sauce. You really can't beat the convenience and volume of just oomphing up the kind of sauce that's 88 cents for a 20 ounce can. I threw in a bunch of frozen meatballs and simmered it for twenty minutes, then added a few big handfuls of mozzarella cheese and served it over angel hair. Very popular, and so many leftovers! I am the best at dinner. 

This day’s entry is already getting long, but I really ought to remember the Punching Mattress for posterity as well. The kiddo is now happy in his new bed on his new mattress, which means the old bed is kaput. I sold the twin frame in less than a day on Facebook Marketplace for 25 dollars. I paid 90 for it in 2013, so it was a good deal for both parties.  The mattress is only about a year old, but the kiddo has had a few destructive-feelings days and kind of severely messed up the fabric on one end. So it's not likely we're going to be able to do anything with that mattress and for now it is leaning against the wall in our entrance hallway like we're expecting a human cannonball over for dinner. I don't even remember who started it now, but it has become a good place to let off some excess energy by pretending you are a superhero or a championship martial artist. Yelling "punch, punch, punch!" while punching the mattress is optional but encouraged unless somebody is in a Zoom class. It's good exercise, and cathartic, too! I'm kind of melancholy about the idea of getting rid of it already.   

[minuteminx]

Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Five: Old Appalachia

Chapter Summary:  Charlie's not sure she's cut out for the Commonwealth, but fate thinks otherwise.

[First Chapter]

[Previous Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

“By being natural and sincere, one often can create revolutions without having sought them.” ― Christian Dior

Outskirts of Concord, December 2287

Charlie had always been somewhat of an idealist.  She had to be, growing up in bumfuck Appalachia in a family just high enough above the poverty line that the government wasn’t legally required to offer financial assistance.  Her dad was an overworked, underpaid line worker in some automotive factory, and despite never once stepping foot in a coal mine, he carried his ancestors’ resentment toward anything and everything “nucular,” as he called it.  He’d always pop off with these wild conspiracy theories about atom bombs and the end of times.  It seemed laughably prophetic now.

Her mom had stayed at home, reading books to her and her little brother, and promising them they could change the world if they wanted to.  It was those words that kept Charlie going, pushed her towards that Ph.D. that had seemed so monumental back then, so important.  Now, as she stomped around an irradiated wasteland, caked in blood and aching from head to toe, she realized how fruitless it had all been. All those years training to help other people only to spend over two centuries in cryostasis and wake up unable to even help herself.

Thank God for Preston. She didn’t know what would have happened to her if she hadn’t almost died trying to help him at Concord.  She really had no business in a suit of power armor or holding a minigun and fighting a fifteen-foot tall lizard.  Even nearly two months later, she couldn’t come up with a single logical reason why she volunteered so readily.  Was she now going to throw her life away just because a friendly face asked her to?  She laughed at herself.  Probably.

Charlie found herself doing a lot of things simply because Preston asked her to.  Grueling, difficult tasks like “eating enough,” “staying hydrated,” and “getting a good night’s sleep.”  He drove a hard bargain, that Garvey.  What did he take her for anyway? Someone stable?  

In the past month, he’d been taking time away from the laundry list of other things he had on his plate, just to teach her some excruciatingly basic Commonwealth survival skills.  She’d learned the names of all the things that could possibly kill her: Raiders, Gunners, zombie-like creatures called feral ghouls, supermutants, various types of wildlife threats, and radiation.  Everything was irradiated, from the food to the water to the thunderstorms .  At this rate, she just figured she was either going to die or grow an extra ear on her forehead. It was a tossup.    

She’d also asked Preston to help her learn to protect herself.  She didn’t like the idea of guns or violence or any of it, but it was foolish to walk through Hell defenseless. He tried so hard to teach her to shoot one of those god awful laser muskets, but it took too long to ready a shot that she was inevitably going to miss anyway.  He had eventually given up on trying, and instead placed a 10mm in her hand.  It was nicer than the one she’d used in Concord, with glow sights and an extended mag.  Apparently Sturges had fixed it up for her. She was beginning to believe there was nothing that man couldn’t do with a roll of duct tape and half an hour.

“MS. CHARLOTTE!”

Charlie jumped as Codsworth abruptly hovered in front of her face.  She’d almost forgotten the Mr. Handy unit had accompanied her on an assignment for Preston, out in Lexington.  Once she’d shown some proficiency with a weapon, he thought it would be good practice for her to take out a “small” band of Raiders who were troubling a nearby settlement.  It was not small, and while she dealt with the issue and convinced the Tenpines settlers to throw their lot in with the Minutemen, Codsworth knew she’d not gotten out of the ordeal unscathed.

“What, Codsworth,” she asked, more annoyed than he deserved.  

“Mum!  Oh thank goodness you responded,” the robot exclaimed giddily floating about in front of her, “You have been staring off into nothing for the past hour of our journey despite my efforts to entertain you with conversation.”

She had not noticed him speaking once, well, at least not since he’d mentioned Nate and Shaun when they’d passed by the rusty remains of a playground.  Maybe she’d tuned him out after that. “Sorry Codsworth.  I have a lot on my mind.”

“Are you aware that you are bleeding?”

“What?” Charlie glanced down to the large tear in her vault suit, and the blood pouring from a bullet wound in her thigh.  She hadn’t even felt it since she used one of those stimpak syringes.  She’d almost forgotten she had it. “ Shit. ”

“Such language, mum!  Hardly befitting of a lady of your stature.”

“Find me a lady of any stature who doesn’t curse when she’s been shot in the leg,” Charlie quipped, grunting as she sat down to redress the wound, “Do you still have that gauze you picked up at the plant?”

“Yes, of course,” came his quick reply as he produced a bundle of cleanish gauze in one of his metal arms, and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Charlie said, taking the cloth from him and beginning to work, wrapping it tightly around her leg.  She just needed something to stop the bleeding until they made it back to Sanctuary.  They weren’t too far now, maybe a mile or so from the bridge.

Once she found her amateur wound dressing to be suitable, Charlie continued on back to the settlement, Codsworth prattling on endlessly about the bliss of pre-war life.  She understood where he was coming from.  That didn’t mean she wanted to hear it.

She stopped suddenly in her tracks when she spotted movement ahead of them, off to the side of the dirt road.  It looked like a man in raider leathers, digging for something.  

“What is it, Ms. Charlotte,” Codsworth asked loudly and without an ounce of tact.

Charlie shushed him, but it was too late, the man had already heard them, rising to his feet and moving his hand to draw his weapon.  She didn’t let him have the chance, firing several rounds into his chest before he could.  She hated that she was getting good at that.

She approached the body, prone and lifeless, and knelt down, beginning to rifle through his pockets for anything useful: ammo, stimpaks, caps . Yes, caps .  If anyone had told her that in the future the formal currency would be Nuka Cola bottle caps, she wouldn’t have tossed so many of them in the recycling bin.

It wasn’t until she looked up that she noticed that there was another body, a young woman lying in a shallow grave also donning the signature raider attire.  Her arms were crossed ceremoniously across her chest, hubflowers scattered across and around her body.  Charlie looked down at the man she’d just killed and remembered that he had been digging.  

She felt sick.  In her mind, she conjured an entire tragic scene in which a poor, mourning raider had simply been trying to bury a loved one and was startled by the obnoxious shouting British robot.  When he reached for his gun, just a reflex, he’d been shot in the chest by some cagey redhead with an itchy trigger finger.  If she’d only paid more attention, she might have noticed sooner and she and Codsworth could have taken a wider arc around the man.  He wouldn’t have had to die.

Pocketing her looted items, she holstered her gun and bent down to pick up the shovel, starting first by filling in the grave of the lady raider.  It was the least she could do.

“Pardon me, Ms. Charlotte,” Codsworth asked, attempting to be gentle, “What are you doing?”

She sniffed her nose, fighting back the tears she wanted to cry, and pointed the shovel at the woman.  “He was just trying to bury her.”

Charlie swore she could hear the gears in Codsworth’s massive metal head clicking and smoking as he tried to make sense of her behavior.  After a moment, he spoke.  “Need I remind you that these scoundrels would have murdered us on sight?”

She shook her head and stuck the shovel into the dirt.  “Doesn’t matter.”

As she worked, her memory was flooded with painful, frozen flashes from the vault.  Images of the callous man who killed Nate and stole her baby, of Nate’s stiff, frozen body that still lay in the cryochamber, perfectly preserved with the exception of the fatal gunshot wound in his chest.  Charlie had opened the chamber, hoping she could save him, or at the very least say goodbye, but he was already gone.  She’d slipped the wedding ring from his finger and left him there, entombed along with the rest of her neighbors who unwittingly signed themselves up for a sick science project.  When Preston learned what had happened in 111, he offered to help her lay everyone to rest properly, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  She couldn’t stomach the idea of walking back into that frozen hell.

She could, however, offer some absolution to this Raider.  

“I’m going to bury him next to her,” she announced, looking at Codsworth before moving over several feet and beginning to dig a new plot.

The robot protested with an exasperated huff. “I applaud your sentimentality, mum, but it is getting quite late.  At this rate it will be completely dark before we return to Sanctuary Hills.

“If you want to go on ahead, you can,” Charlie said with a dismissive wave up the road, “Tell Preston I’ll be along shortly.”  “Perish the thought,” Codsworth retorted, properly offended. “I will not abandon you to the wasteland at night.  Just… do please hurry.”

Charlie worked as fast as she could, but her body was weary from her days of journeying and fighting, so digging and filling in the grave had taken longer than it should have.  When she finally finished, the clock on her PipBoy read “23:00,” and the sky was completely dark, well except for the stars.  They, at least, had survived the apocalypse.

It was after midnight before Charlie hobbled across the bridge and into Sanctuary Hills, Codsworth zooming past her, a cacophony of buzzing and whirring and shouting for Preston.  At this rate he was going to wake up the entire settlement.  She managed to make it over to the home where Sturges had set up his workshop, and flopped herself down on the concrete with a grunt.  The effects of the stimpak had worn off, and with the bullet still lodged firmly in her leg, it hadn’t healed entirely and it throbbed like a bitch.  

There was a hurried rustle of footsteps, accompanied by Codsworth’s voice complaining about how she’d “foolishly buried some raiders against all good judgement.” If anyone needed a chill pill, it was that robot.  

“Thank you for taking care of her, Codsworth,” Preston said, a gentle laugh falling off the ends of his words, “I’ll handle it from here.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr. Garvey.  I apologize for my mistress’ recklessness.” His words were pointed and Charlie couldn’t believe she was being tattled on by her own Mr. Handy.   He zoomed off to busy himself with the fruitless task of trying to restore their old home.

Preston shook his head, and continued to laugh as he approached Charlie, “Man, that machine is something else.”

“No joke,” came Charlie’s weak reply, as she attempted to adjust herself to sit more comfortably.

“Whoa,” Preston exclaimed and rushed to her side. “You okay?

He hadn’t noticed the wound, and for whatever reason Charlie didn’t want him to.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.”

He frowned, warm brown eyes flicking down to the blood seeping through the gauze on her leg, and then looked back up at her.  He smiled, but she could tell he was worried.  “That’s funny, ‘cause you don’t look too fine.”

“I beg your pardon,” she bantered.  Deflection.  She couldn’t stand the way his concerned expression made her feel. “I know I’m not a supermodel or anything but--”

“Charlie.”

She faltered under his gaze, tears immediately bubbling up in her eyes.  She took a deep breath and fought them back before speaking.  “There were more Raiders than we thought.  Codsworth and I got overwhelmed and I got shot in the leg, but I’m fine.  People get shot around here all the time, right?”

“We try to avoid getting shot,” he remarked, his exasperation not quite as shrill as Codsworth’s, “How many raiders were there?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty.”

“Jesus.” He rose to his feet and walked over to the metal cabinets just past one of the workbenches. He knelt and opened one of the doors, reaching far back inside. He emerged with a full fifth of Old Appalachia and a medical kit that was, like everything else in the world, held together by duct tape.  He returned to his previous position at Charlie’ side and sat down making an almost concerted effort to make eye contact.  “You know I wouldn’t have sent you out by yourself if I’d--”

“This isn’t your fault, Preston.” She lay a hand on his arm, and offered him a smile. “If anything it’s mine for rolling in the front entrance, guns blazing.”

He laughed.  “Man, you’ve got to be more careful.”

“No promises.” Charlie lifted her hand from his arm and pointed to the bottle of whiskey.  “What’s that for?”

“You,” Preston answered, picking it up and handing it to her, “We have to get this bullet out of you before it gets infected, and you’re going to want something to dull the pain.  So, start drinking.”

“Say no more.” Popping open the bottle, she kicked back a long, burning swig.  The whiskey tasted like home and two-hundred years ago.  She watched as he opened up the medical kit and dug through the items inside.  “Have you ever done this before?”

“What? Dug out a bullet,” he asked, bitter smirk on his lips, “Yeah. More times than I would have liked.  Like you said, people get shot around here all the time.”

Charlie took another drink and swallowed hard, the alcohol not working fast enough to keep her pulse from jumping at the sight of metal tweezers and rubbing alcohol. “How bad does it hurt?”

Preston laughed again, glancing over at her this time. “Bad.”

“Well… that’s comforting.”

“I’m just being honest,” he explained, positioning himself so that he had a good look at her affected leg.  He took his gloves off and looked up at her, “May I?” She nodded nervously, and watched as he unwound the bandage and cut away the remaining pieces of vault suit.  She hadn’t gotten a good look at the injury until now, and she was thankful that the bullet seemed to be of a small caliber, like those that turrets fired, and wasn’t lodged too deeply.  Under the bright lamplight, she could see it’s dull metal reflection.  Preston sighed in relief, most likely noticing the same thing.

That it would hurt “bad” had been an honest understatement.  Even after several shots worth of whiskey, the sharp burning pain of alcohol and tweezers pulling the bullet from her thigh was enough to make her light headed.  Even Preston’s gentleness couldn’t spare her that much, and she squirmed and held her breath just to keep from screaming and waking up the others.  When it was all said and done, she was trembling, out of breath, and sobbing like a child.  

“Congratulations,” Preston said softly as he began to dress the now clean wound, “You survived your first Commonwealth surgery.”

Charlie let out a weary laugh and let her head fall back against the wall behind her, looking up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. “Thanks, doc.”

“Don’t mention it.”  

There was a long pause in which she heard him inhale as if he were going to say something, and then exhale as if he thought better of it.  She brought her eyes down to him, effects of the alcohol really hitting her, along with the endorphin high.  “Something on your mind?”

He stopped what he was doing to meet her gaze. “Why’d you go to all that trouble to bury those raiders?”

“I…” She began, but hesitated, worried that he’d disapprove of her compassion for members of a group that’d terrorized him for days on end at Concord, who killed some of his friends. “I thought it was the right thing to do.  When we walked up on him he was in the middle of burying a comrade.  He’d spread flowers over her and everything…”

She choked on the last words and trailed off, but Preston seemed to understand, as he nodded and went back to dressing her wound.

“I feel sorry for them sometimes too,” he admitted, as he tied a neat knot in the bandage, “They might be messed up, but they’re still people.”

“Right.” Charlie nodded.

“You’re a good person,” he stated, eyes fixing on hers. “I’m… I’m glad you decided to stick around.”

Her face became hot. It must have been the whiskey finally getting to her, she told herself.  After all, it wouldn’t make sense for her to get all flustered over a compliment.  She carelessly let her hand fall on his arm again. “Me too.”

Charlie awoke the next day, more afternoon than morning, tucked neatly into a bed that she could scarcely remember crawling into.  In fact, everything from the time Preston had finished dressing her wound was blurry and she made a mental note to avoid the Old Appalachia from now on, or at least to refrain from drinking half a fifth in one sitting.  She crawled out from beneath the thin blanket and sat up, leg aching more than it had since she’d gotten shot.  Damn.

Glancing down, she noticed she was wearing a pair of faded jeans that were too short for her and an old white tee that exposed her navel when she raised her arms to stretch and yawn.  They were not her clothes, and she’d no idea whose clothes they were, or how she got out of her vault suit and into them.  She snorted out a laugh at the thought of poor Preston fumbling around in the dark trying to help her change.  She doubted that’s what happened, but her memory was too fuzzy to say it hadn’t.

Across the room, folded neatly atop her dresser was a familiar blue and yellow fabric, and she hopped up-- too quickly, wincing at the pain in her leg-- and limped over to take a look.  Picking it up and unfolding it, it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t her whole vault suit anymore, missing an entire bottom half, and split open down the front.  She also noticed that there were neatly stitched seams along the edges. A jacket?  Someone had gone to the effort of making a jacket from her vault suit and she didn’t even know who to thank.  

She slipped one arm in and then the other. It fit like a glove, a much more comfortable, less skin-tight glove than it had previously.  A quiet knock on the doorframe nearby drew Charlie’s attention and she darted her head up to see Marcy standing in the doorway, smirk in place of her signature scowl.   Suddenly, Charlie remembered.

“I’m glad it fits,” Marcy said as she looked Charlie up and down.  Preston had woken the other woman up the night before to ask if she had anything Charlie could wear.  Marcy had cursed and complained, but ended up shooing him away and helped her get changed and into bed.  Apparently she was also the culprit behind Charlie’s new jacket.  “Couldn’t salvage the whole thing.”

“You did this,” Charlie asked, examining the sleeves.

“Yep,” Marcy stated, looking down at the ground as if she was embarrassed, “Couldn’t get back to sleep after Garvey woke me up, and figured it might be good to have.  Considering none of my clothes are quite long enough for your beanpole ass.”

Charlie laughed, and tugged at the bottom of the t-shirt. “Thanks, Marcy.”

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it.  I still think you’re useless,” Marcy retorted with a huff, but it was clear she didn’t mean what she said. “And I want my clothes back as soon as you find something else to wear.”

Charlie nodded, and Marcy turned to walk away, but stopped and pivoted back around on her heel, pointing an index finger at her.  “Mama’s been waiting for you to wake up.  She found some Jet this morning and is off her rocker talking about some bright glowing heart shit.  Just a heads up.”

Before Charlie could even say her thanks, Marcy was gone. Turning her attention back to herself, she realized she had no clue where she’d left her PipBoy.  She scanned the room, and saw it sat on the floor near her boots.  Picking it up and examining it for damage, she fastened it to her wrist and then slipped on her boots before heading out into the hallway.

It was a bit disorienting at first.  She wasn’t in the place where she normally slept, instead she stood in the house that had become the common area for all of the settlers.  She must’ve been too woozy and injured to make it farther into the cul de sac.  She turned to her left and spied Mama Murphy in the open living room, sitting in her specially crafted chair, feet dangling happily just a few inches from the ground.

“Hey kid,” she hollered, motioning for Charlie to come closer, and Charlie obliged, secretly hoping that her doped up insight would give more answers about where Shaun had been taken.

“Mornin’ Mama,” Charlie answered and made her tedious way over to the old woman and sat down on the sofa near her.

“The Sight,” Mama croned, “It’s shown me more about your boy, your sweet boy.”

Charlie winced, unsure if she wanted to know now, but leaned forward and took the old woman’s outstretched, weathered hand. “What is it,” she pleaded.

Just as Marcy said, Mama Murphy recited a prophecy about Diamond City, and people with chained up hearts refusing to provide Charlie with answers about her son’s whereabouts.  With the exception of one.  One heart that would lead her way, “so bright against the dark alleys it walks.” It didn’t make sense, but she’d never been to Diamond City, didn’t have enough information to even begin to decipher it.

“What does that mean,” she asked clumsily

Mama smiled, and shook her head.  “Beats me, Kid.  I only know what the Sight shows me.  Maybe you get me some mentats, maybe I--”

“Now, Mama,” grumbled a familiar voice nearby, Charlie followed the old woman’s gaze to where it had been preemptively fixed on the door Sturges had just entered, face covered with smudges of oil, “You know Ms. Charlie’s not gonna fall for any of that nonsense.”

She shrugged. “Meh, you never know, Sturge.  Seems like she wants to find her boy.”

“Not sure the boss would like it too much if he knew you were abusin’ her good graces,” Sturges scolded her playfully as he popped open a bottle of Nuka Cola, and sat the cap in a pile with others on the counter.

“Preston's not my boss,” Mama scoffed, and then turned back to Charlie, “He’s waiting for you though, kid.”

“Preston?” Charlie asked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. “Me? Why?

Mama and Sturges exchanged a glance before Sturges spoke up.  “Don’t really know to be honest.  He doesn’t really say much about how he’s feelin’, but he’s been worried ever since you left.”

“He sees your promise,” Mama chimed in, “He sees what I see.”

Even with the analgesic effects of a newly injected stimpak, walking the length of the neighborhood had proven to be a slow, awkward process for Charlie.  Her leg was weak, throbbing, and numb,  but at least it still worked.  At least she was still alive.  

The more time she had to think about her escapade at Corvega, the more she realized how she’d survived on nothing but pure, unadulterated luck.  She’d seen it in Preston’s eyes the night before, his bewilderment that she’d managed to take down a raider gang of that size.  She’d also seen his guilt, as if he intended to blame himself for something that had not happened.  For all she knew of him, that was normal.  Whatever had happened before she ran into him and the others in Concord really did a number on the guy.

Charlie heard him before she saw him, humming and making an effort to tune a two hundred year-old guitar.  A smile twitched on her lips, heart warming at the sight of him sat on a rusty patio chair, surrounded by an audience of lawn flamingos.  He had his hat off and laying on the table. In her two months of knowing him, she’d never seen him so relaxed.

“Your G’s a little sharp there Garvey,” she called out to him playfully as she made her way over and sat down in the chair across from him, propping her good leg up on the table.  He didn’t flinch or show any other signs of surprise at her approach, and continued to fiddle with the guitar.

“I know,” he answered, tearing his eyes away from the instrument to look up at her, “I can’t get the damn thing to cooperate.”

“It is at least a couple of centuries old.”

He sat the guitar down and turned to face her more squarely.  It was the first time she could remember getting a good look at him with his hat off.  Objectively, of course, he was handsome, with soft features and a smile that he definitely knew how to use to his benefit.  Preston was nice.  He wasn’t naive.  How could he have been, growing up in a world like the one she’d woken up in? The scar that ran from temple to cheekbone on the left side of his face was more prominent than it had seemed before,  masked in shadows.  It looked like an old wound, and she wondered how he’d gotten it.

“Well,” he said, amusement plain on his face, “Being a couple centuries old hasn’t stopped you.”

“It certainly tried,” she replied, ignoring the knots in her stomach and back of her mind telling her it might have been better if it had stopped her. “Damn near got the better of me at that plant.”

Preston nodded and let out a breath. “About that… how are you feeling?”

Charlie looked down at her injured leg and then back up at him. “Like shit,” she stated, “But I suppose that’s better than the alternative.”

“That’s for sure,” he said, sort of absentmindedly, gaze seeming unfocused and off in the distance.  There was a long, heavy pause before he spoke again. “I don’t think I ever got around to saying thank you last night.  I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us since Concord.  Without your help...well, I’m not sure we would have made it.”

“I…”Charlie began, but trailed off, “You’re welcome, Preston.”

There was another pause and he leaned forward and grabbed his hat, tracing his fingers across the brim.  “I know that I told you I’m one of the last Minutemen, but I don’t think I ever mentioned how it ended up that way.”

She shrugged. “I figured you would tell me when you were ready to talk about it.”

“I’ve started calling it the Quincy Massacre,” he said somberly.

“Quincy.  That’s where you and the others are from, right?”

“That’s right,” he answered, “Sturges, Mama Murphy, and the Longs all lived in Quincy when the Minutemen got a call for help dealing with some Gunners who’d been scouting the area.  I went with Colonel Hollis, my commanding officer at the time, and several others to answer the call.  It all went downhill after that.”

Unsteadily, Preston opened up to her, explaining how his contingent had been the only to arrive, and their numbers were too few to handle an assault by the much more heavily armed Gunners.  Colonel Hollis had called for help, only for a traitorous Minutemen veteran named Clint to show up and lead the Gunners right through the gates.  Preston told her how he had to watch settlers and his own comrades die, helpless and running through the streets.  He’d made a knee jerk decision to evacuate, and take as many survivors with him as he could along the way. Apparently, that wasn’t where the trouble had ended though.  He and his group traveled for over a month without finding anywhere safe to settle, facing disaster after disaster until finally getting trapped up in the museum at Concord.

The story was heartbreaking, but to watch Preston tell it was even more so.  Charlie could tell that he blamed himself for each and every loss that happened under his leadership.  He wore his guilt all over his face.  

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said softly, “And I’m glad that I showed up when I did, although I really have no idea how I managed to do… all of that.”

“It’s almost like it’s fate... or something,” he muttered.  His words were followed by an embarrassed laugh and a shake of his head as if he couldn’t believe his own mouth. “Sorry.  I’ve been spending too much time around Mama.”

“Hey.” Charlie laughed, and slid her leg off the table, leaning forward to pat his shoulder reassuringly. “Hope’s addictive. Just like the chems.”

Preston sighed. “Damn it if that’s not the truth.”

“Also, I think the old loon might be onto something,” she added, tapping a finger to her temple, “The only reason I limped out to this end of the settlement to see you was because Mama said you wanted to talk to me, something about you seeing my promise?”

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said appearing genuinely surprised, as if Mama Murphy’s clairvoyance was something new, “She’s out here stealing all of my thunder.”

The way he looked at her, as if she held the entirety of his hope in her trembling hands, made her shift uncomfortably.  The weight of Mama Murphy’s words now settled on her shoulders like a lead blanket.  She had never been one to believe in coincidences, but it was hard to accept that any of this was her destiny.

She cleared her throat, attempting to be nonchalant. “So, what’s this promise of mine everyone is so certain of?”

“The Commonwealth desperately needs the Minutemen,” Preston explained, “Now more than ever, and I plan to rebuild them stronger and more organized, without all of the petty squabbles and infighting that have plagued our history.”

“Sounds like you just need to find a good leader,” Charlie remarked, feeling helpful.

Preston eyed her intently and she suddenly regretted her words. “Exactly,” he said with a grin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she protested, waving her hands in front of her in a panic, “You’re not suggesting that I should lead the Minutemen, are you?”

“I am.”

“On what qualifications?”  She was nearly shrieking. “I know next to nothing about the organization, it’s history.  I can barely hold my own in a fight. I--”

“Charlie,” Preston remarked, rather directly, “The Minutemen aren’t an army.  We’re citizen soldiers, people of the Commonwealth banded together to protect ourselves and decide our own futures. We fell apart because our leadership forgot what we stood for, but you could bring us back together, bring the whole Commonwealth together.”

“Why me?” Charlie was flattered at his faith in her but so confused. “Why not you, or anyone else?”

“You helped us at Concord and every day since, without anything in it for you,” he explained, “You had your own problems to deal with and you helped us anyway.  Hell, you even won Marcy over.  That kind of compassion and selflessness has been in short supply around here for a long time.”

“Preston, I am flattered by all of this, but I’m not sure I can take on that kind of responsibility right now.”

“Listen,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile, “If you really don’t feel like you’re up to it, I’m not going to twist your arm.  I get that it’s hard to deal with other people’s problems when you’ve got your own.”

Charlie pondered for a moment, and asked, “What would I have to do?”

“Just what you’ve been doing,” he answered as if it were obvious as day, “Help people. Recruit. Spread hope. And I’ll be behind you every step of the way.”

She couldn’t deny that it was tempting.  As much of a mess as she was herself, she was compelled to help others.  If anything, it could give her something to focus on, a sense of purpose, a way to use her skill set.  She brought her eyes up to meet his, chased away the nagging doubts in her head, and nodded. “Okay.  I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be.”

“Well, the leader of the Minutemen has always held the title of General, and since I’m the last of the Minutemen, there’s no one here to argue with me when I say it belongs to you now.”

“So I’m General Smart now?” Charlie laughed at the complete absurdity of the situation. Leading a bunch of neo-colonials to resettle Massachusetts wasn’t exactly how she pictured her life turning out.  “Does that mean I get a cute little hat?”

Preston returned her laughter, relief washing over his face at her decision. “If you want one, General, then absolutely.”

Perhaps her mother had been right all of those years ago.  Maybe she really could change the world.

[beck-a-leck]

OOPS! @valuvr03 got me thinking and having feels about Jak and Sig and I wrote a thing!

Set post-Jak3, cw for angst, alochol use, canonical character death, and Baby Jak feels! Approx 1.5k words. You can also read it on AO3!

Fair warning, it’s rough, I typed most of this on my phone so who knows what typos there may be.

What About the Boy?

Sig ducked out of the victory party early. Let it not be said that Daxter didn’t know how to scrape together enough booze and merriment to make even sand-crusted Wastelanders forget how truly broken the world was. That kid had a gift for bringing people together. But Sig wasn’t really in the mood for a party, even if he had cause to celebrate.

Before he had gone riding off to war, Damas had named Sig his successor to the Wasteland throne. Sig hadn’t actually thought that would be necessary. But Damas hadn’t made it back from Haven alive. His oldest friend and mentor was gone.

Haven didn’t mourn Damas like Spargus did. Haven had been without a king long enough to hardly miss him. Spargus had sent Damas off to the next life with all the pomp and ceremony he deserved. It was his wake that Sig left early, lingering near the back of the room as Daxter regaled an increasingly tipsy crowd with tales of his triumph over the Dark Makers. When the Ottsel was suitably distracted, Sig stole a bottle of the strongest stuff off the bar and slipped out the door.

He went up to the throne room, figuring nobody would bother looking for him there until tomorrow. The throne loomed in front of him – his throne now, he supposed – but he didn’t take his seat there yet. Instead he eased himself down on one of the lower steps, pulled off his boots, and soaked his feet in the cool water.

He was tired. Precursors, he was so fucking tired.

Sig opened the bottle, tossed the cap off over his shoulder, and took a long drink. He caught his reflection in the gently rippling surface of the water and laughed dryly. If Damas were here, he’d give Sig a swift kick in the ass for moping around like this. Nothing good ever came from sitting on your ass, feeling sorry for yourself.

Sig took another long drink. He stared at the tattoo on his arm, four letters that crawled around the skin, reminding him what was most important. Life. When it was new, it was meant to memorialize a friend, a comrade killed by a Metal Head. Over the years, more lives applied themselves to the ink beneath his skin. And now when he saw it, he would think of Damas and… and little Mar.

Biggest failure of Sig’s life.

It was his job to protect the kid, keep the baby safe from anyone who might want to hurt or use him. And when it came down to it, Sig hadn’t been there. Five minutes was the difference between him protecting the kid and his mom, and utter failure.

By now… the kid had to be dead. If he had been taken to Haven there was no way a kid that young and small could have survived everything that city had gone through. The Metal Head invasion, the war within the city, KG deathbots, and the collapse of the palace, too many children had died in Haven over the last couple years. Who was going to notice one more unclaimed orphan?

Sig had promised to bring Damas’ son back to him. He had failed that job too.

Maybe he should stop making promises.

The rattling elevator drew Sig’s attention. He looked up to tell whoever decided to bother him to go away, but the words died in his throat. He knew that blond hair and blue shirt. If anyone else deserved some time alone after everything, it was Jak.

The thrice minted hero dropped heavily onto the step beside Sig, he took the bottle when it was offered wordlessly. The kid had taken Damas’ death pretty hard. Sig wasn’t surprised, he had seen how much the younger man had grown to respect Damas. Hell, if things had been different, with a little more training and grooming, Sig wouldn’t have been surprised if he declared Jak his successor. They two of them were remarkably alike, in more ways than he suspected either of them realized.

Jak was watching Sig carefully, his eyes trained on his face. Several times he opened his mouth as if to speak, but opted for a drink instead. After the third of forth aborted conversation starter, Sig finally said, “Out with it, Chili Pepper, or just leave me to drink in peace.”

Jak was quiet for a moment more, as if he expected Daxter to jump in and start the conversation, but the Ottsel wasn’t here. The kid would have to get whatever was weighing him down off his chest on his own.

“I know what happened to Damas’ son.”

Sig turned to look at him fully, not quite sure he had heard that correctly. Hope bloomed in his chest. “Mar? You know where he is? Is he alive? Is he okay?”

Jak laughed dryly, quietly, “He’s had better days, but…” he reached into his pocket and pulled something out and placed it in Sig’s hands.

Sig knew what it was without having to even look properly. It was what he had been searching for for the last three years. Mar’s seal, the emblem that would identify the kid. He was supposed to always wear it; he hadn’t been without the seal since his birth!

“Where did you get this?”

“It’s mine,” Jak said.

“No.” Sig shook his head slowly. Jak wasn’t a thief, and he wouldn’t have taken this from a defenseless child, of even from a child’s dead body. Where the hell did he get this from?

Jak drew a deep breath. “You remember the kid Daxter and I went to rescue when we defeated Kor? The one with the Underground?”

Sig shrugged. He hadn’t been involved with the Underground or their side of the battle against the Baron. He had settled in with Krew in hopes the gang lord’s connections to even the darkest corners of the city would help him turn up any clue about the boy. But he vaguely remembered Daxter babbling about some kid that got sent through a rift gate. With a little prying, Jak had eventually revealed that he and his friends had traveled through time somehow, from peaceful Sandover village, Haven’s precursor.

“That kid was me. I was born in this place, in this time, but I grew up in Sandover. We had to send the kid back so he could grow up and become me, and destroy Kor, or he would stay in that time and be safe because I already saved him.” Jak shook his head. “Either way, before the kid left, he gave me the seal. Our seal of Mar.” Jak took the seal back and turned it over in his hands. He was quiet for a long moment before continuing. “I didn’t realize what the seal meant, nobody told me who his father was or why he was important. I didn’t even realize he was Damas’ son until he told me. When he was dying, he said I would know his son Mar from the seal he wore around his neck.”

Sig was dumbfounded. What Jak was suggesting was impossible. Little Mar was six years old, Jak was eighteen. He could accept that the kid Jak had connected with had been Mar, and that Mar was so far out of reach now, he couldn’t return. But the jump between Jak had connected to a lost little kid and had been given a gift, and Jak was that same kid, grown up and angry was a bit too far.

“It’s poor taste to joke about something like this, Jak,” he growled, “I’d expect that kind of shit from Daxter, not you.”

“I know it sounds crazy, Sig. Ask anybody, even Veger. He took me in the first place.”

Sig growled again at the mention of that rat-politician. Veger had always seemed suspicious, but he kept himself so scrupulously clean, even Krew didn’t have any dirt on the bastard. Sig had never been able to get close to him.

He looked back at Jak. His face was honest, even if he was doing his best to keep any emotion off it. Damas hadn’t liked showing weakness like that either. It wasn’t in Jak’s nature to joke about something like that, if he said that he and the kid were one and the same, and the kid was Damas’ son, then Jak believed that he was Damas’ son.

All this time, he had Damas’ son right there and he had never known. That trigger-happy lunatic with a death wish… he should have known. There was so much Damas in the kid. And, Sig realized, in a way he had kept his promise to Damas. He had found his son, protected him, taught him what his father couldn’t, kept an eye on him while he ran off trying to save the world. He had even returned Mar to his father – he had been the one to slip Ashelin the Wastelander beacon before the council exiled Jak.

Sig laugh, low and gentle, and threw his arm around Jak’s shoulders. “Shit, Chili Pepper, at least you made it back.” He fell sober for a moment, looking him over solemnly. “A shame Damas never knew but… he woulda been proud of you, Jak. I know he would have.”

Jak almost smiled, but Sig saw his eyes light up. “Thanks, Sig. I had a good teacher.”

[lveclouds]

a/n: an atla au that i’ve been planning to write about for a while hehe and i apologize that this oneshot  jumps around a lot (oops) and it is slightly different from the actual show and wow this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao and this is very much raw and unedited so if there are any mistakes, that’s on me fklkflkf

genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, doomed love 

rating: pg-15 (see tw)  (i’ve bolded them so they are easier to see) 

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: avatar! reader x firebender yoongi

warnings: a bit of violence, (it’s nothing graphic), light swearing, mentions of family death (very brief and doesn’t go into much detail), mentions of blood (very brief), a nightmare sequence, major character deaths (nothing  too graphic or super violent)

summary: you were supposed to hate min yoongi. after all, he was from the fire nation, and their people were responsible for the chaos that had divided the four nations all those years ago, and for the death of your family. however, no matter how many times you fought, and no matter how many times he got under your skin, you eventually caught feelings, and now the two of you were in a relationship that was never meant to happen. and now, you, along with yoongi, have to face the consequences. 

disclaimer: i own none nothing related to atla (the story, setting, etc) all rights go to nickelodeon and michael dante dimartino, the main creator of this amazing show.  also, originally, the cooling chamber is used for prisoners who dare to step out of line while imprisoned on boiling rock, and they are only rendered unable to bend for a full week. however, i decided to change it because i don’t want to make their deaths too graphic or violent or disturbing, as the show barely has anything like that and i do not want to disturb my readers. 

“he was like fire, and i like water, and we often clashed, but somehow, we managed to fall in love. however, because we fell in love, a grave punishment awaited us, one that would haunt us for the rest of our lives.” 

prologue

min yoongi. the mere mention of his name was enough to make your blood boil and your insides churn with anger and hatred. he was arrogant, hot-headed, and worst of all, infuriatingly gorgeous. messy, raven hair that fell into his eyes, which were dark and piercing, pink lips that always curved into that irritating smirk you despised, perfect cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and the long scar on his left eye, which would’ve made anyone else look terrifying, but somehow, it only made yoongi even more attractive than he already was, which deeply vexed you. he was from the fire nation, whom you hated with all your heart. they were responsible for the death of your family all those years ago, when you were just a little girl who didn’t know the complexities of the world, nor did you know that you would one day be the one to put an end to the all the slaughter and turmoil. you remembered the day they invaded your village all too well. you had been helping your mom prepare dinner, when, all of a sudden, loud shouts pierced the air, and you heard the crackle of fire and heavy footsteps making their way onto the shore. your father, already armed with his armor and scimitar, rushed outside, yelling over his shoulder for your mom to protect you and your brother. your mother, who was firm and loving above all things, calmly instructed for you and your brother to slip out of the tent if things went bad, to which you agreed to, despite being deathly terrified of what was going to happen. before you knew it, the flap of your tent was blown open, and you felt a rush of warm air wash over you, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, holding back a terrified scream as two fire nation soldiers barged in, mouths twisted in evil smirks. they grabbed your mother roughly by the wrist, who put up to resistance as they dragged her away, and you felt tears fill your eyes. to your horror, your brother, who was only eight years old, ran after your mother, who was looking at him with tears running down her cheeks, silently pleading him to go back inside. her attempt was in vain, as your brother persisted, desperate screams escaping his throat, and you were frozen in the corner, tears freely falling down your face, watching, petrified, as your kind and outgoing and brave brother was dragged away, possibly to his death. after you had managed to calm down, you quickly gathered all you had, which was nothing much, just a water skin that your grandmother had gifted you before she died. despite it being nothing too significant, you still held it dear to your heart. somehow, you had managed to escape, quietly hiding behind ruins of igloos and tents, and escaped onto a boat, not daring to look back at the destruction that the fire nation had caused. and, as you let the boat carry you away, you clutched the water skin to your chest and cried. 

(fin.) 

fast forward ten years later, and you were now eighteen, and you had traveled all around the four nations, being sure to avoid the fire nation at all costs. within the ten years that you had traveled, alone and unarmed, you had managed to discover something: you were the avatar, the one person who would be responsible for stopping the war between the four nations and the only one capable enough to stop the fire nation and their scheme to take over the entire world. at first, you didn’t want to believe it, for you were a poor girl who grew up in a small village in the southern water tribe, and as far as you knew, none of your ancestors were avatars, at least, or so you thought. turns out, your great great grandmother had been a past avatar, a very powerful one at that. you hated to admit it, but you were terrified. after all, being the avatar wasn’t going to be easy, and, to top it all off, you had to save the world from absolute peril. granted, you weren’t exactly experienced in the whole “avatar” thing, but you were willing to try. and, so far, you had been able to improve your waterbending, and had mastered earthbending. now, you were working on your airbending, studying scrolls you had picked up while exploring an abandoned air nomad temple. you were currently staying at a small inn located in a remote village in the earth kingdom, training nearly every day. however, you found it difficult to concentrate, for thoughts of min yoongi popped into your mind, which greatly irritated you. you had had only a few encounters with the arrogant prince to be, but you had come to despise him. you hated the fact that you thought of him, for you could just imagine that stupid smirk on his face if he found out, and for heavens sake, you hoped it would stay that way. every fight you two had made your blood boil, and the sarcastic remarks and teasing only deepened your hatred. you vowed to never fall for an arrogant asshole like him, nor would you ever consider giving up anything for yoongi, not a chance. little did you know that three years  later, you loving yoongi would be your greatest downfall. 

yoongi gritted his teeth in annoyance at the trembling servant before him, trying not to get irritated at his cowardice. “speak.” he grumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “i-i ‘m s-sorry your highness, i-i didn’t mean to tell your sister about the a-avatar. i-it just-” it just what?” “i-it was a mistake, your highness.” yoongi sighed. he was exhausted from the countless meeting his father forced him to attend that day, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with such a fool of a servant. “whatever, just don’t let it happen again,now, get out of my sight.” yoongi muttered, waving his hand absentmindedly. the servant nodded, frantically getting up, sputtering out apologies and nearly tripping over his own feet as he exited his bedroom. yoongi groaned in annoyance as he hopped down from the chair he’d been sitting on, stretching out his weak limbs. the meetings had been quite tiring, and yoongi thought he was going to insane from listening to incompetent men ramble on and on about pointless war strategies. ok, yoongi knew that coming up with war strategies wasn’t easy and they were doing their best, but none of the strategies they come up with have succeeded, and yoongi was starting to lose faith in them. yoongi knew he could be a bit hotheaded and a bit arrogant and selfish at times, but he wasn’t heartless, and deep down, he knew that the men were just trying to help with the crisis that was plaguing the world. yoongi sighed and plopped down onto his bed, closing his eyes. he was so tired to the point where he couldn’t even be bothered to get under the covers, and soon sleep came over him, covering him like a blanket. 

y/n scowled, clenching her fists together tightly, her dark eyes full of anger and spite. her beautiful face was bloody and a long scratch was on her forearm, but she didn’t seem to notice. yoongi had been thrown off to the side, clutching his arm awkwardly, and there were smudges of dirt and blood on his face, and his body felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles, but all he could focus on was y/n, facing off against the fire lord, rage ablaze in her eyes. the fire lord gave her a once over and sneered. “so, you’re the so called avatar? heh. you look weak, and definitely not enough to defeat me.” y/n’s scowl only deepened, and yoongi could see the ember of a flame kindling in her now open palm, illuminating her features in a orange and red glow. “you killed my family, didn’t you?” she hissed, the flame in her hand getting stronger, sparks flying in the air. the fire lord let out a dark, heartless chuckle. “oh, you mean the powerless and pathetic waterbenders who didn’t even try to put up a fight? ah, well, if you must be so curious, i did kill them. they were imprisoned for a while, and i ordered my soldiers to starve them, and when i got tired of keeping them alive, i took their lives with my own hands.” yoongi stared in horror as the flame in y/n’s hands got bigger and bigger, and her dark eyes glowed with fury, a strong wind lifting her up in the air, and she was now a blue streak against the dark sky. when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t normal, it was almost as if she had been possessed, and that’s when yoongi realized: she had entered the avatar state. suddenly, a fight broke out, and yoongi shielded his eyes from the debris and the smoke that was heading his way, struggling to see. and, when the smoke finally cleared, yoongi’s heart felt as if had been ripped out of his chest. his father was dead, lying in an awkward heap on the ground, and a few feet away lay y/n, her blue dress tattered and torn, her body lifeless. yoongi held back a scream as he crawled over to her body, fighting back tears. her dark hair was messy and strands fell over her face, and with shaking hands, yoongi reached out to brush them away, there were scratches and bruises covering her arms and legs, and the cut on her arm had gotten worse, and then he noticed the piece of metal in her chest, blood pouring out of the wound. yoongi finally let the tears fall, grasping hold of her now cold hands, letting his emotions pour out of him like a waterfall. 

yoongi shot up, his brow coated with sweat, breathing heavily. his heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he felt as if his ears were ringing. over the past few weeks, he had been having recurring dreams of y/n dying in different ways, and he couldn’t understand why. why was he, out of all people, having dreams of her dying over and over again? why? he scowled and wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand. “this makes absolutely no sense. i don’t love her,  nor do i have feelings for her, so why am i having these dreams?” he mumbled to himself, head swimming with thoughts. yoongi shook his head, as if to try and rid himself of what he had just dreamed of. he decided to go back to sleep and not try to think of her, for it would only cause him more confusion. 

(three years later) 

you dodged a flying rock just barely, propelling yourself upwards with air, landing gently on your feet just seconds later, and allowed yourself a quick sigh of relief before turning back to the battle at hand. your bending had gotten better since then, and you were just mastering firebending, the one element you dreaded learning, but alas, as your duty as the avatar, it was mandatory to master all four elements. you were currently locked in a slightly tense fight with thugs from the earth kingdom, who had previously tried to steal your belongings just weeks ago, and as you were on your way to the local market to pick up some food, you were ambushed. luckily, the thugs weren’t too dangerous, and had a few weapons, but not any you were too concerned about. after the thugs were lying on the ground, groaning in pain, you wasted no time in running away, not bothering to look back, just in case one of them recovered. the local market was ablaze with activity, street vendors selling food and other items, such as jewelry and cloth and weapons, and some were even offering to read your palms. you made sure to stick to the stalls that were run by people who didn’t seem to care about the avatar, and those who seemed to just see you as a normal girl, which was enough for you. after all, you weren’t even supposed to be going to crowded public places, as there is a chance that anyone could recognize you, but since you had been to the market so many times and no one seemed to bother you, well, you didn’t worry too much. however, you still kept your guard up, making sure no one was following you and trying not to use your bending without people seeing. you rushed back to the inn you were staying at, making sure to look over your shoulder as you went, feeling your heartbeat speed up a bit. yoongi was lying down on one of the beds, eyes closed, chest falling up and down peacefully, his soft breaths filling the room. “yoongi? are you awake?” he cracked open one feline shaped eye, lips curving into a small smile. “mmm. was just closing my eyes.” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but just loud enough for you to hear. you bit back an amused smile at the sight of yoongi in a tattered red cloak that was a far cry from the royal garbs he was used to wearing all the time. his dark, raven hair had gotten longer, and the strands were now falling into his eyes, and most of the time, his hair was messy and a bit unruly, but you didn’t mind. you hummed softly as you prepared dinner, which was noodle soup and fish. while you were adding ingredients to the stew, you heard yoongi slide off the bed and walk over to you, his bare feet soundless on the wood floor. strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “you’re finally up, huh?” “i was awake, i was resting my eyes.” “uh huh, and those little snores i heard? those were fake?” yoongi huffed. “shut up, i wasn’t snoring.” “whatever you say, yoongi.” you singsonged. yoongi sighed and let go of your waist, settling down in front of the small table in the center of the room, hugging his knees to his chest. “is the food almost ready?” “yes, your highness.” you teased, pouring the stew into a wooden bowl, steam rising into the air. as the two of you ate dinner that night, yoongi told you stories about his life in the palace, and how he had almost fallen asleep at a meeting because he was so bored. “seriously? and you got away with that?” yoongi shrugged, shoving a handful of rice in his mouth, and you nearly laughed when you saw a piece of rice sticking to his bottom lip, but refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to embarrass him. “they know i barely get any sleep, so i guess they’re used to it.” “why?” “why don’t i get any sleep?” “well, i used to have nightmares, mostly about my father killing me, you dying, and a few other things, and i don’t know, i’ve always been a night owl, i guess.” your heart dropped down into your chest. “what? you ‘ve had dreams of me dying?” yoongi sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “yeah. but i don’t have them anymore. i had them before we fell in love or whatever. we hated each other before, in case you forgot.” “but, i still don’t get it. why would you have dreams of me dying?” yoongi shrugged once again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “not sure. anyways, don’t worry about it. it was a long time ago.” you nodded, but deep down, you were still a bit doubtful that the dreams were “nothing.” they had to mean something, you thought as you forced yourself to eat another piece of fish. you lay in bed later that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the inn, lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder if the dreams that yoongi had all those years ago meant something. you weren’t afraid of death, necessarily, as you knew that all life stopped eventually, but you were scared of when it would happen, after all, you hadn’t saved the world yet, nor had you mastered the four elements. you shook away all bad thoughts, silently scolding yourself for being paranoid, and snuggled deeper into yoongi’s side, letting sleep take over. 

the next morning, you awoke to the smell of smoke, and you immediately shot up out of bed, looking around for yoongi, who was nowhere to be seen. a wave of fear washed over you as you rushed to gather your belongings, heart beating wildly in your chest. you quickly put out the small fires that were blazing in the inn, turning the wood to ash, and ran outside. the sight that awaited you turned your blood cold. yoongi was being held captive by fire nation soldiers, hands tied with rope, and there was a smudge of dirt and blood on his right cheek, but otherwise, he looked unscathed, and you allowed yourself some relief. one of the soldiers, a tall and lean man, sneered at you as you got closer. “if it isn’t the avatar. thought we’d never see you, and honestly, i’m quite disappointed. thought you’d be taller, and well, a male.” you felt a surge of anger wash over you, clenching your hands into fists. “what do you want?” “first, surrender now and we’ll consider sparing your life.” “and if i refuse?” “if you refuse, then we’ll kill you while he watches.” you gritted your teeth in annoyance and snuck a glance at yoongi, whose expression was unreadable.  you sighed and slowly put your hands up in surrender, and before you could react, you were pinned down to the ground, dirt flying into your eyes, making you sputter, and you felt a knee dig into the small of your back, and you hissed at the sharp pain that shot through your shoulder. . “what are you doing?! you said you wouldn’t harm her!” yoongi screamed, dark eyes ablaze with anger. “you’d really think we’d spare her? she’s the reason why we’re always getting scolded, and the reason why our people are suffering, so she deserves to die.” “your people are suffering?? don’t you mean our people?” the soldier who was pinning you to the ground let out a bitter laugh. “our people? the fire nation no longer sees you as a prince, for you turned your back on your nation and ran away with the avatar. your father is ashamed of you, and you are no longer welcome in the palace.” yoongi scoffed. “please. i was never accepted by my father, and i got tired of living there, too many rules to abide by. the fire nation is pathetic and my father is a piece of shit. i used to be blinded by the teachings and the values that we lived by, but not anymore. the fire nation deserves to be burnt to the ground, and i hope i get to be around to see it happen.” you watched in horror as yoongi was kicked in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain, body falling in an awkward heap on the ground. tears welled up in your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away, for you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone, especially in front of fire nation soldiers, no less. the last thing you wanted was to be seen as weak. 

after a long stretch of silence, yoongi cleared his throat, causing the soldiers to look at him, sneers immediately forming on their faces. “what is it now?” “let her go, you can take me back to the palace and i will receive whatever punishment awaits me, even if it’s death.” your blood ran cold as soon as the words left his mouth, heart dropping down into your chest. the soldier who was holding you down let you go, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in your back subsided. the soldiers laughed, and you felt dread rush over you. “awww, how cute. loverboy’s willing to give up his life for the pathetic excuse of an avatar this girl is.” one soldier said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “no, take me instead,  i’m the one the fire lord wants to see dead.” the soldiers looked at each other and almost immediately, satisfied smirks appeared on their faces. then,you were roughly helped to your feet, and your hands were tied with rope. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yoogni looking at you, dark eyes swimming with tears, silently begging you not to go, and you felt a slight twinge of regret, but it was too late: you had already made up your mind. you were willing to sacrifice anything for yoongi, even if it meant inevitable death. you swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise in your throat as you were led away. suddenly, you heard loud screams from behind you, and you whirled around to see yoongi, who had somehow managed to break free from his restraints, the sharp features of his face illuminated by the orange and red flames that he was throwing at the soldiers, who tried to dodge them, but to no avail. even from afar, you could see the tension in yoongi’s shoulders as he fought, dodging fireballs every now and then, sweat forming on his brow. you could only watch as he singelhandedly fought off soldiers from his own nation, anger coming off him in waves. and, just as he was about to run towards you, his eyebrows set in determination, you felt the hilt of a sword slamming into the back of your head, and before the world around you turned to black, you heard a scream of pure agony and distress. 

you awoke in a prison cell, head pounding as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. you groaned as you realized where you were. you had been brought to boiling rock, the most secure prison in the fire nation. the bars of your cell and the walls were made of an indestructible metal, and you immediately regretted not learning metal bending all those years ago. defeated, you slumped down in the corner of your cell, sighing heavily. the fire nation soldiers were right, you thought. you were a poor excuse of an avatar. not only had you fallen in love with one a fire nation prince, but you had also betrayed the values you were supposed to uphold as the avatar by choosing to try and protect yoongi instead of yourself. you knew that the past avatars before you would’ve done the complete opposite, for the sake of the whole world, and you chose to neglect all their teachings and values by trying to save him. you felt tears fall down your face. for the first time since your family’s death, you had never felt so hopeless and scared in your life. you knew that the fate that you had lead yourself to was entirely your fault, for you had chosen to love yoongi and defend him. deep down, there was a part of you that wondered if things would’ve been different if you had not fallen in love with the fire nation prince, but there was also a part of you that didn’t regret choosing yoongi. he had taught you some firebending techniques, and most of all,had treated you like fine china after you had started dating. he had been nothing but good to you since you dated, and you felt like an absolute fool for falling so hard, so quickly. 

you sobbed quietly in your cell, feeling completely helpless and defeated. there was no way you were escaping what was about to come, and you soon fell asleep, dried tears sticking to your face, heart heavy. when you awoke the next morning, you heard a guard unlocking your cell, and you slowly sat up, dread pooling in your stomach. you were led out of the cell and down a long corridor. you were practically shoved inside the interrogation room, which was dimly lit with metal bars in the ceiling, and the guard that was inside pushed you onto a chair, tying you to it with rope, which was rough and itchy against your skin. the interrogator stepped into the room, an old man with prominent frown lines around his eyes, looking at you with utter disdain and disgust. "so, this is the avatar? hmph. seems pretty weak to me." he muttered. you fought the urge to roll your eyes as he stood in front of you, eyes piercing. "did you or did you not kidnap the crown prince?" you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "kidnap? i never did such a thing, he voluntarily agreed to travel with me." the old man sighed impatiently. "and you fell in love with him, did you not?" you gritted your teeth in annoyance. "and so what if i did?" the old man smirked, and you fought the urge to break free from your restraints and punch him in his face. "well, isn't the avatar supposed to despise anyone from the fire nation? they have values to uphold, and while i don't know much about your ancestors, they would probably look down on you for it." "fine, i did." the old man scoffed. "it's pathetic, really. i mean, the avatar betraying her ancestors for a lowlife prince?" "i'm not proud of it, but i don't regret it." "is that so? well, you definitely will once you freeze to death in the cooling chamber tomorrow." and with that, he exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. as you were led back to your cell, you felt as if your world had come crashing down. you had been unable to master all four elements, nor had you saved the world from absolute peril. and, once you died, the world would be thrown into absolute chaos, and no one would be able to stop the fire nation from causing absolute destruction.

that night, you sat in your cell, leaning on the wall, thinking about all the memories you had made as you traveled, and the ones you made with yoongi. yoongi, who you hadn't seen since you got knocked out, and who you didn't know was even alive.you knew that it was possible to resent yoongi, for he was one of the reasons why you were now in a prison cell, but you also knew that you were to blame. after all, you had fallen in love with him. despite the fate that was awaiting you the next day, you couldn't help but feel happy that you had lived a decent life, and you had managed to fall in love, even if it was someone you were destined to hate. "i love you, yoongi." you whispered, and you slowly fell asleep, with memories of yoongi in your mind. 

the bitter cold in the room enveloped you like a blanket, and though you had grown up in a village surrounded by glaciers, you had always been covered up in thick clothing lined with fur, keeping you warm despite the harsh temperature. you shivered slightly, rubbing your arms frantically, as if the action would keep you warm. though the cold was unbearable, you were at least grateful you would die slowly, instead of painfully, so at least you could reflect on yourself before you died. you sighed and slumped against the wall of the cooling chamber, feeling absolutely defeated. there was no way you were getting out this time. suddenly, the door to the cooling chamber opened, and someone got shoved inside. the door quickly closed and you could hear the joyful laughs of the fire nation soldiers outside, which vexed you. when you saw who had been placed in the chamber with you, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. it was yoongi, and to your relief, he looked uninjured. “y-yoongi?” you called out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears running down your face. he looked over at you, dark eyes wide. “y/n?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “w-what are you doing here?” “i turned myself in.” “what? why?” “i couldn’t let you suffer without me. after all, i am the one who dragged you into this mess in the first place. you fell in love with me, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, freezing to death.” your heart broke at how sad he sounded. “yoongi, don’t blame yourself. i was the one who should’ve left, but i couldn’t bring myself to. i neglected my duty as the avatar and now i’m letting thousands, maybe even millions of people die. all because a certain firebender came into my life.  however, i don’t regret falling in love with you. you’ve helped me become a better person and you even helped me how to control my firebending. you also showed me that it doesn’t matter where you come from and that you shouldn’t let your nation define you. and, honestly, at least your face is going to be the last thing before i die.” despite the cold, you could see a faint shade of pink settle across yoongi’s face, and you allowed yourself an amused smile. “since when did you get so cheesy?” “don’t know. guess certain death just does that to a person.” eventually, you died peacefully with yoongi by your side, and while you deeply regretted not being able to fufill your duty as the avatar, you had at least shown that love didn’t come without sacrifice, and sacrifice didn’t come without love, for you would have gladly given up the world for yoongi. 

a/n: omg this was so long hehe but i hope you all enjoyed this! this oneshot took me forever to type up, but i had so much fun doing it! once again, thank you all so much for supporting me always, and i hope my stories can make you smile, or at least feel some type of emotions! 

tagging: @suhdays @softlyjiminie @softguks @jksmoongf @softlypouty @haylo4ever @sweetheartjeongguk @sketchguk @glossyfever @taeramisu @nahfamily @dylanxmin @saintjeonofbusan @mmmikrokosmos @sunkyeoml @honeylovecult @lomlkook @yoongislovecult @daechwitas @yoongismykink @periminkle @thotxuxi @fairyqook​ @moonmintrails @flowerseok  @koophoriia​@onherwings  @ppersonna​  @ot7always​ @koosgrl​  @cest-la-tae​ @minsprings​ @mygsii​ @roguebangtan​ @minniepetals​ @euphoria-vmin7​ @ladyartemesia​ @gguksbby​ @baekhyyun​ @randomkoalablog​ @yoonsgiggle​ @birthofvcnus​

[zuffer-weird-girl]

You guys really thought that I would create a family for my husband to simply end like that? NO WAY IN HELL wait, hold on, you guys cried?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone who passed even a centimeter close to the yakusa house felt a strong wave of hatred and sorrow, so imagine the ones who were living on there....

It has been already three days since the fight with Endeavour that killed the yakusa boss's, Overhaul, wife. Not his coomurates neither the heroes could find the body, not even allowing him to make a decent funeral...

Chisaki was numb yet so full of rage... But he couldn't just lost his guard now like he had when he received the news, breaking down along with his two children on the floor...

Kai left his office, not having the strength to ented your shared bedroom, eyebags equivalent to shinsou's or even worse, and found his teenager son staring at the coffee table, in his (E/C) didn't show any hints of any emotions... he was just sitted there, with his forearms resting on his knees. While his younger daughter found herself just laying on the couch staring at the ceiling with red puff golden eyes...

He didn't know which hurted more to look, Kaito who carried your eyes or Kin which even though licked both his hair and eyes had the same facial expressions as yours...

"You two need to hydrate or at least eat something. Unless you want to..." he stoped on his tracks noticing his brute words and how it could affect them.

While Kin nodded and lift herself just to grab a cup of water, the little girl seemed to drag her feet along with her, Kaito didn't even moved a muscle.

"Kaito." Said sternly Chisaki, earning a death glare from his son.

Two could play the same game.

"Go. Eat something." He pointed at the direction of the kitchen and his son scoffed.

"I thought you were already planning that bastard's death instead of being around here." Mumbled the young man.

Chisaki eyes darkened as he glared down at his son.

"Those things can't be done without an actual plan. Unless you want everyone on here arrested or even worse." He growled.

Kaito seemed not even woried about the way his father was acting as he sighed annoyingly and went to the kitchen.

The atmosphere between the three was tense... Kaito seemed to lost all that angel part of his, while Kin didn't even say a word after her outburst...

He himself wasn't one to talk, he was impatient, more aggressive with his subordinates and even got into a few arguments with his older son.

He really was trying to control himself since it was his child over there, but the way Kaito always seemed to bring that topic up seemed like he had just stroke a nerve on him with a scolding needle.

He arrived where his two children were and found Kin just staring at the cup in front of her on the table with her chin burried on her tiny arms... He went to her and apprehensively patted her head, it wasn't going to change things he knew but this was better then watching his daughter im this state.

Kaito himself took an angry bite of an pre made sandwich as he leaned on the board. Chisaki arched an eyebrow at him which only resulted on a annoyed shrug from the boy.

"You didn't want one Kin?" The little girl shook her head.

It has been three days... and he couldn't di this anymore.

How was he supposed to raise two childs on his own? And most importantly, after one of them saw you moments before dying while the other was just too young to take it well the news...

"Dammit..." he whisper to himself feeling his eyes start to burn.

Kin got up from her chair and made her way out of the room quietly. Leaving both Kai and Kaito alone on the room again.

"I want to kill him." Kaito said while Chisaki sighed in annoyance, pitching his covered nose.

"He is the top one hero Kaito. You can't do that without a plan." He growled.

"Well, at least I want to do something instead of letting the man who killed my mom walked freely on the streets. Different from others..." Chisaki slowly took his hand away frrom his face as he sended a one eye death glare at his son.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Why aren't you doing something? Many people died because of you, but now when a hero kills your wife you just stand here? I find this quite... wrong."

Both glared at each other before Chisaki spoke, his words sounding like venon...

"Listen, just because you are in pain, it doesn't mean that you can just threw away the damn respect that me and (Y/N) taught you. Second; you're just a spoiled irritading rascal who thinks that could do a better job than me who worked on the yakusa for years already? Did you want it to make me laugh?" Kaito's confidence completely dissapeared at seing the way his father was looking at him, especially hearing the tone of voice he was using.

"I understand your point of view son of mine, but have you even thought about being on my shoes? I spend more than your age on her side and you have the audacity to even mentioning that I wouldn't do nothing to avenge her death?" He punched the wall near him, making it crack slightly.

"You're NOT the only one who misses her and want a damn revenge, understand that?!" He shouted making Kaito jumped on the spot. Chisaki was never one to yell, but when he did it was just as scary as the death look he gave it sometimes.

"Dad I-" he tried to apologize as he saw his father covering his face.

"Get out." A simple command, and just as fast as he sayed his son left the room.

Kai hadn't look on Kaito's face since then... it was already night and the two didn't even bother to look at each other.

When Kai was trying to concetrate on making strategic paths to the number one hero agency he heard a loud scream of his daughter, which seemed to be coming from outside.

He already thought the worst and started to take his gloves off, and it only agravates when he heard the shout his son had let following after.

Those damn good for nothing guards, if something else happened to his family he swears he will.... he will...

He stoped dead on his pace when he oppened the door and saw his two children on the floor crying in glee as you hugged them tight to your body.

It can't be...

"Mommy you're okay! You're here!" Kin shouted in glee as she nuzzled in your chest, the snot on her nose evidently sticking to it.

"Mom, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." cried Kaito as he buried his face on the crook of your neck.

"Hey you two I'm alright really. Sorry for taking too long my precious." You said hugging your children close as you fighted back the tears.

Kai stared with wide eyes the scene before aproaching slowly... He stopped in front of you, staring down with disbelief as he trembled.

"This better not be a sick joke." He said breathless as you looked up at him and almost cried at seing the pained look on your husband's face.

"Kai..." you said looking at him as he fell to his knees, not even caring about the dirt on his pants.

"How..?" He asked already letting one or two tears fall as be felt the warmth of your hand on his skin.

You were actually here...

"That man helped me with my injuries after the attack, he has a healing quirk..." you pointed to the elder watching from afar the scene accompanied by two man on each of his side from the yakusa.

"I was unconscious those three days my love I'm so sorry." You teared up before Chisaki just oushed you three to his chest.

"Don't you dare apologize over something like that..." he growled as he let those tears fall shamelessly "Angel... my sweet angel." He nuzzled his covred nose on the top of your head as he silently cried and hugged you close.

"Dad..." kaito kaito sudden said "I'm really sorry."

"Enough of that. Is just over that thing. It never happened." He simply said as he burried his facr deeper in your hair while he let out a tiny sob.

He was owning this poor sick man all of his life for that. The yakusa in general would be owning him...

[akishito]

The laws of men

Witcher Oc (Světlana CatAu fic.) Angst - procced witch caution :D

Ao3 link

One has to obey the rules, the laws created by society. They exist to mend the chaos of natural order. But not even following the rules can smooth the chaos within one. The law may as well be part of the chaos tearing you from the inside.

The woods were quiet today. Never a good sign. Světlana rode Mesiats throw the woods, following a trail. The monstrous head of a Kikimora dangled at the side of the ashen horse. They were heading to the nearest village in the hope of making some coin - for the Kikimora or other vise. 

The autumn colored the leaves in warm shades, but it was still early for them to fall and make the forest floor wet and slippery. So Světlana rode her loyal friend with confidence in the saddle and determined to make it to the village by twilight. The only thing clouding Světlana's mind was the absence of birds chipping in the crowns, the cracking of fallen sticks by the wildlife. It was a pretty big cloud blocking the sun. Yet her medallion remained calm on her chest, unmoving.

As she was approaching the small town, she noticed several points hoarding her suspicions into a large knot curling in the pit of her stomach. She could hear some noise of life now but mute somehow. She did not get down from the saddle as she neared the town square, nor she stopped listening for any unusual noises in this small and dirty town. 

With every new street, she came across many new disturbing clues of what might await her at the center of this place. Countless footprints in the mud coming out of town following much smaller ones overlapping with those suggesting a pair of shoes being dragged throw the dirt in the opposite direction.  Someone was dragged and most likely against their will.  

Maybe this was not the best time for her to came to this town. She wondered who was the unlucky one. A thief, murdered, non-human? 

When she reached the outskirts of the surprisingly large square, she finally got down from her horse. With reins in her hand, Světlana went closer to the gibbet. The people, captured in their twisted fascination, let her permeate throw, not noticing who she was or what her horse was carrying. 

She was unable to make up who found their death here today. The sun sat low, and its rays blinded Světlanas sensitive eyes. With the hood low, the sun shined over the roofs, making it impossible to see. It was a man, that was all she gathered. But with every step, she was more and more scared to take another. 

Like a pendulum swinging from side to side, Světlana's feet moved in a dreadful rhythm. And then she took one too many. The sunlight died down, hiding behind the roofs completely - now there was nothing to block her ability to see what she deep down already knew. 

 Her brother hanged before her, stripped from his armor. Left in nothing but his underpants and his Cat medallion around his neck. The only thing that was supposed to be around his neck. No, this was not true. 

"Gaetan," she breathed out, not aware that the words left her mouth.

A mature woman by her side caught Světlana's whisper, and in an instant, screamed and threw herself back into the crowd. Face so shocked and twisted like she was looking at the devil himself. Světlana did not spare her a single glance as she approached the gallows. I have to get him down. I have to. 

One by one, the townspeople backed down from her way, like a wave. They were parting before her so she could stand with her feet dry. 

Gaetan's body unmoving, cold, and so close. They dragged him here like an animal. What happened?!

"One more step and, you will hang next to him." An authoritative voice pierced throw her fixed focus. Světlana slowly turned her head to face with the dark hard eyes of the town mayor. He was in his forties, tall and lean. He stood still in a blizzard that was Světlana's presence in this little execution. 

"What crimes did this man commit to being sentenced to death?" She kept her voice low but loud enough for the man to hear her. How does her face look right now? Are the anger and confusion getting throw the mask she wears instead of a human face? 

"For what he has done, there is no other punishment more fitting than death."

"That does not answer my question." The mayor fell silent for a moment, checking if his guards were close by his side to strike if the witcher before him started acting funny.

"The Witcher killed the miller and his oldest son. With no reason, unprovoked." He spoke with the pacing and intonation of someone schooled by a home tutor. This man came from a wealthy upbringing, not fitting the place this small town was. 

"My brother had more blood on his hands than your town butcher, but not even him would act on a whim like this. Show me proof or got helps me. Single lie and, you will need more than those tin cans by your side to keep you safe from me ripping your throat out." Monotone, her voice monotone, and flat. That's the best way to keep it. Let your stance and stare do the work.  Don't try me.  

"Witness saw the whole act unfold."

"Then let me speak to them."

The major and she held long, staring contact before the older man beckoned for someone by his right hand. The cries that followed shocked Světlana. She watched as one of the guards shoved a young woman to the side to get to the little boy behind her. "No, you cant do this. Get him away from the monster! Let my son go, did he not suffer enough?!" Another guard had to hold the woman so she could not run to her boy and shield him from what she believed was an open mouth of a werewolf. The kid had red eyes from crying tears dried on his cheeks. He was visibly frightened, shaking maybe, but he followed the guard to the mayor. She something familiar in this little boy, something buried so deep she quickly locked it back. 

"Tell us what you saw, Matěj."  The protests by the mother echoed in the background, and the major sounded authoritative, and the little boy choked on the first syllable he tried to force out. She watched him struggle and wondered why he even was here - in shock, frightened, watching a man die. 

Světlana kneeled to get to the boy's level. Let me help you, little one. Matěj took her action by surprise as the rest of the nearby people, but she just raised her hand and as she prepared her fingers to perform the sign in a calm voice said: "It's Ok. No one's going to hurt you. Please, tell me what happened to the miller." She spoke to him she did to the newcomers at the old keep.  They were too in a place they had no business of being.

Axie worked immediately. The boy calmed down and started to speak. He spoke a tale of an old miller that used to give him sweet treats when he helped around and how one day a horse came running from the woods without a rider. And how the horse walked funny and how the miller gave it water and oat. And how the horse stayed with the miller for two days before a strange man came from the woods covered in blood. The man from the tale was dirty and talked nonsense. How he laughed at the miller, calling him a blood-sucking leach. How he shouted, he is not afraid of a vampire, not even a high one. How he cut the poor man in half and how his son lost his head trying to help his father. And how he collapsed on the ground in a spasm. And how the boy runs for help to bring it to the horror unimaginable. The tale ended with the good man dragging the unconscious murdered to the town square to meet his fate. To be punished. 

"You heard the boy. Do you believe us now?" The major placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze while his eyes on Světlana, nervous, trying not to let his unease to be known. 

"I do believe the boy. But you still killed my brother and without a trial."

"For crimes like this, no trial is required. Do you judge a monster by human law before you slay it? Do you let them state their case, to defend themselves before you behead them?" Světlana remained on her knee, looking at the boy whose big blue eyes looked for his mom. 

This whole situation made her feel like she is balancing on a rope stretched out over a burning pit. Yet she felt blinded by all the feelings she was not showing, feelings that many believed were not there at all.  "Every monster has reasons why they do what is natural to them. They live and need to feed, just like everyone else. You would be surprised, Major, how often could a tragedy be prevented, only if people understood that."

"Are you siding yourself with the pest you hunt?"  The Major felt the crowd was on his side. The dimmed voices and reactions carrying throw this whole conversation only got more bold and brash.  Not even I could get away from this in one piece.  

"No, I was just answering your question."

Silence fell between them. The silence broke by Světlana and her demand. "Cut him off."

"The law states he has to hang for three days." 

"Cut him off." 

"The law..."

"Cut. Him. Off." 

Her voice still flat, forcedly emotionless. The sooner Gaetan was down, the sooner she could... She could... She could what? 

I have to get him off! I have to get to him off! I have to get him off! I have to get him...

"In three days, you will be allowed to take his body. Not sooner." The majors' voice was cold as a shard of ice and just as sharp.

*** 

On the first day, she went to the mill to see the place with her own eyes. Maybe to found out if the miller was a vampire after all, which was nonsense.  She demanded to see the bodies after she accepted the majors' condition. Pieces of meat, that's what she saw. Nothing vampiric about that. 

They did not let her get closer enough to see Gaetan's body at the gallows. Just a piece of dead meat now as well. What made him act this way? Was her brother that far gone? Did those mutations inflict their final harm? Everything hurt inside, twisted like a knot. No, not now. Not here. Breath. One in, one out. 

The mill deserted without a single soul neer it. Světlana wondered if the miller had a wife or other children and was glad they were not there when her brother came. If they were here now, would she apologize to them? 

The first day was for her to doubt. On the first day, she builds a reconciliation cross.

***

On the second day, she wonders about the forest. Like she is a young child unkissed by the rough lips of life. Unaware of the dangers there. She feels empty, hollow like an old willow tree.  

She walks, and the leaves crack under her soles. She listens. She finds an old graveyard in the forest not so far from where the mill is. She sees the rotting corpses and dried blood. Ghouls slaughtered - work of a witcher, flasks from drank potions laying scattered on the ground. 

The second day was for her to look and find. On the second day, she destroys a graveyard wall in a flash of frustration. 

***

On the third day, she feels it's somewhat harder to sense herself. On the third day, she feels tired of waiting but follows the rules anyway.  On the third day, she collects Gaetan's things from the majors' guards and throws them together with her own into the bag on Mesiats saddle. 

She meditates in front of the gallows. The sun, burning her on every little piece of skin she did not cover enough. She waits for the right time to take her brother down. She sits. She waits. 

The townspeople avoided her the entire time she was here, from day one. But as the time limit was coming to an end, they too become restless.  The sun was gradually hiding behind the roofs, just like when she came to this forsaken town. 

When the first stone left the palm of an unnamed man, Světlana felt the stone brush against her shoulder. "Leave, you freak," yelled the old man, and more were joining him. She could see the exhaustion and frustration in his eyes, but she was swamped by these feelings too. 

And she was ready. No, she was not going to draw a  sword on them - no more meaningless bloodshed.  But she did defend herself. Quen was her friend in many battles and helped her in this one as well. At the impact with the barrier, the stones reflected and bounced back to those who throw them. Some of them hit the shocked people with a force they did not expect. "Blood, there is always blood when we are around, Světli," Gaetan spoke to her, and it felt real. It hurt. 

"Enough!" She yelled back."I waited for three days as your law states. I did not break any other law while I remained here. And now I am getting my brother off." Was she yelling? Who knows. There was no right side, no wrong one, not to her. Yet she hated the frightened humans watching her cut down the stiff body of what used to be her brother. She despised them as she rode her horse throw the center of the square and out of the town. She loathed them as she rode her horse, crushing everything in their way, as her chest felt tight, her ribs pounding by an ungraspable weight.

The third day was for her to... The third day was for her to... The third day was for her to... 

***

The wood crackled and, smoke ascended to the sky. 

Her brother was dead - she was not. It did not felt right. 

[maggicsorceress]

Prompt: Nightmare x Killer, learning each other’s holiday traditions (and maybe coming up with some news ones too?)

Mmmmm this prompt is some good shit 👌🏻👌🏻 thank you hon! 😌✨

I own none of these characters!

~~

Nightmare wasn’t super into the holidays. Don’t get him wrong, he loved getting to spend time with the people he cared about, and there was always a certain air that fell upon everyone around Christmas time that made everything look new and fresh and beautiful. So, probably more realistically, he didn’t care for the materialistic side of the holiday.

Growing up with Dream and their mother, their Christmas celebrations were always very...tame. They did a lot of baking together, and there generally weren’t many gifts under the Christmas tree, but neither of the brothers were disappointed by the lack of gifts, and grew up relatively humble as a result.

When their mother died, Dream and Nightmare kept up the traditions she had taught them and, no matter where they were or what they were doing, they spent Christmas together.

But not this year.

This year, things were different.

Despite how much his brother had reassured him, Nightmare still felt a little bad about leaving him to spend Christmas with Killer instead. Dream had Cross though, so he was sure he would be fine.

He would admit that he was not prepared for how vastly different his and his boyfriend’s holiday traditions were.

“Killer?” Nightmare said. “What, in God’s name, is that?”

‘That’ being a worn elf doll propped up on a bookshelf in Killer’s living room. It was situated so that it appeared to be sitting, plush legs hanging over the edge of the shelf. Nightmare had only been over for about an hour and already he was seeing so many strange things. The elf, a strange plant hanging from the ceiling in a doorway, the sheer amount of lights Killer had strung up outside, and not to mention the way the entire house smelled violently of cinnamon.

“What do you mean?” Killer asked, raising his head to look where Nightmare was pointing. “Oh, the elf on the shelf?”

“The what on the what?”

“The elf on the shelf.” Killer laughed. “What, you’ve never seen one before?”

“Is this another one of your rediculous decorating things?” Nightmare said. “Like the plant hanging from the ceiling back there?”

“No, the elf on the shelf is a super fun game! You move it around until Christmas, so every time you see it it’s in a different place.” Killer explained. “And don’t tell me you’ve never hung mistletoe before! You know what that is, right?”

“First of all, that elf thing sounds completely rediculous.” Nightmare said. “Secondly, of course I know what mistletoe is, but no I’ve never hung it in my house.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know.” Nightmare said, sarcastic. “I don’t know why I never hung mistletoe in the house I shared with only my brother for about five years.”

Killer burst out laughing and made his way across the room to the couch where Nightmare was sitting, plopping down next to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Poor Dream.” Killer said. “His brother is so cruel.”

“I love Dream, but I sure as hell am not gonna kiss him.”

Killer shrugged and raised a hand to gently cup Nightmare’s jaw, pulling their faces close. “More for me then, I guess.”

Nightmare snorted and leaned forward to peck Killer lightly on the lips. “Dork.”

“You know it.” Killer said with a sigh. “So, if you don’t hang mistletoe or put an elf on the shelf, what do you do for the holidays?”

“Well, there’s...what? Five days ‘til Christmas?” Nightmare thought out loud. “Do you have a Christmas tree?”

“Yeah.” Killer said. “It’s in the shed.”

Nightmare blinked. “Why...why is it in the shed?”

“‘Cause I...have to put it somewhere for the rest of the year?”

“You...have a plastic tree.”

“Yeah?” Killer said, confused.

Nightmare heaved a heat sigh and stood up, holding out a hand for Killer.

“Well,” He began, “I guess now is my chance to add in one of my own traditions. C’mon, we’re going out.”

~

The drive wasn’t a very long one, and before long they were pulling into a nearly empty gravel parking area. It had snowed recently, so the ground was covered by a crisp coating of white. They were a little on the outskirts of town, where trees grew tall around them and the roads were more dirt than pavement, but Nightmare had been coming out here since he was a kid. Together, he and Killer stepped out of the car and looked around. There was a large house in the distance, and at the edge of the parking area a family sat around a fire pit in camping chairs. When they saw Nightmare, they waved.

“A little late this year, aren’t you?” One of the men called. Nightmare laughed.

“Dream and I are switching it up this year.” Nightmare said. He gestured to Killer. “I have to educate this heathen on proper Christmas trees.”

The family laughed and the man spoke again. “We’ve got a few good ones left. Holler when you find one you like!”

“Thanks!” Nightmare called back, reaching out and taking Killer’s hand. “Let’s go.”

He led Killer down a narrow, muddy pathway and out into a field of decently sized pine trees. They grew in rows, in an array of shapes and sizes and smells, and Nightmare turned to look at Killer.

“Welcome to one of my holiday traditions:” Nightmare said. “Cutting down our Christmas tree.”

“You get a real tree?” Killer clarified. “Every year?”

“Yep.”

Killer whistled. “Damn. How do you even get it home?”

“You strap it to the roof.” Nightmare said with a shrug.

“Damn...”

“It’s not that hard to do with an extra set of hands.” Nightmare said. “Dream was always with me, so it didn’t take that long.”

“But...why go out and deal with that every year when you can just buy a plastic one and reuse it?” Killer asked.

“Because,” Nightmare began, tugging Killer towards a nearby pine tree, “fake trees don’t smell this nice.”

The air around them was tinged with the sharp scent of fresh pine and chipped bark, the scent intensified by the chill of the winter wind. It was one of the reasons Nightmare refused to get a fake tree. The scent held so many memories. Tugging gently on Killer’s hand, he urged the other to walk along with him, crunching through ankle deep snow.

“We came here every year.” Nightmare said, nostalgia flooding through him. “I don’t even remember how old I was when my mom first brought us here.”

“It’s so peaceful.” Killer said as he gave their joined hands a squeeze. “And beautiful.”

Nightmare hummed and they continued down the rows of pine trees in silence, admiring the atmosphere that drifted around them like gently falling snow, and then, Nightmare laughed.

“When I was little, me and Dream used to play around out here instead of helping our mom look for a tree.” Nightmare said. “She’d always get so upset about how soaked our coats got.”

Killer chuckled. “That’s cute.”

“Yeah.”

They stopped their winter stroll by a pine just a few inches taller than Killer. It was a nice shape, with sturdy branches and deep green needles, and it’s scent was heavy in the air around it.

“This one is nice.” Killer said.

“Yeah, it is.” Nightmare agreed, pacing a circle around the tree. “Will it fit in your living room?”

“Looks like it. Do you want me to go let those people know?”

Nightmare gave pause, gaze wandering from the tree to the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, and found that he didn’t want to leave this moment just yet.

“Later.” He said to Killer. “...I want to enjoy this a while longer.”

Killer smiled, and it was as bright and beautiful as the snow.

~

“So,” Killer began, later that night, when the tree had been put up and decorated, and they were cuddled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, “I was thinking...”

“Oh boy...” Nightmare mumbled into the rim of his mug.

“Hey!” Killer whined. “Let me explain my idea before you get snarky with me!”

“Alright, alright, what is it?”

“So, since it’s just the two of us this year, and we only got presents for each other...” Killer said, rubbing gentle circles into Nightmare’s shoulder with a thumb. “I thought that maybe, instead of waiting until Christmas morning to exchange gifts, we could do it on Christmas Eve? That way, we can sleep in before going out for breakfast.”

Letting out a deep, relaxed sigh, Nightmare skunk further into Killer’s embrace, head resting on the slope where Killer’s neck met his collar bone.

“Yeah, I like that.” Nightmare said. “That sounds really nice.”

[star-anise]

I hope it's alright to ask, but I see you know quite a lot about gardening and I have recently acquired a lawn, but know very little about gardening. What are some resources you might recommend for learning, especially with regards to reseeding lawns? I am hoping to largely replace the grass with clover ☆ and now that december is almost over I can feel spring coming and want to get ready!

Haha I know… enough to begin with, with gardening! I’ve begun a lot of projects, but now they’ll take months or years to really see to fruition. 

I will say: I have found many books by longterm gardeners very helpful, and the blogs of people in my hardiness zones, but I’ve found Youtube to be patchy in its usefulness. A lot of Youtubers are people just starting out their gardening or farming journeys, so they’ll make a video documenting a brand new process they’re excited to try out for the first time, but it’s a lot harder to find follow-up “Welp, that didn’t work” conclusions. The videos are good to show my mom to demonstrate what the work will look like, but I want to do more research before I decide to try a technique.

I have definitely found that other local gardeners are really valuable to get to know! It can be really hard to figure out what works in your specific area and a lot of it requires trial and error, so it’s helpful to know what’s already been tried. You can also end up sharing tools, plants, seeds, and labour. 

Finding people local to you can be as simple as finding local garden centres or seed stores (preferably dedicated year-round places that hire people specifically for plant knowledge, not just the pop-up garden centre at a store that doesn’t really focus on plants). That way you can talk to employees who have seen a lot of gardeners try things locally and hear how it went. I’ve gone to some really useful talks given by independent greenhouses.

However, a step up from that are actual local gardening groups or clubs. Local to me there are events like Seedy Sunday, which is organized in March in my area, where outdoor planting is still a few months away but people might be starting seeds indoors soon. It has a seed swap, vendors, and information sessions. There I learned about the local permaculture guild’s annual festival a month later, and it had even more info sessions, and the presenters there frequently handed out seeds or were like “PLEASE come and take an apricot seedling from my back yard, here is my address, PLEASE.” From there you might even make garden friends whose garden you could visit, or who could visit your garden, to say things like “Yeah that’s a fungal infection” or “This part isn’t getting enough water.” (I mean, you could also get a landscaper or garden consultant to do that, but it costs money.)

Because really the trick with gardening, as far as I can tell, is all about location and region. I automatically add “zone 3″ to all my google searches now. Clover works really well in some places–I’ve successfully grown it on the bare dirt on the north side of my house, dangit I forgot to post pictures–and not as well in other places. It’s going to act differently depending on what kind of winter you have (Cold but not freezing? Frosty but not snowing? Snow and ice that freeze and thaw several times over the winter? Heavy consistent snow blanket until spring?) and what your general climate’s like. In some places you might be better off with prairie grass or an eco-friendly fescue mix or a mix of grasses and flowers..

I tend to sow seed over the living grass of my lawns instead of completely getting rid of the old grass. I guess I mostly figure that if the new grass really is a better fit for the lawn, it’ll choke out the old stuff. It’s… sometimes worked out well so far? Although I live in a pretty arid area, and I learned that if I want my grass to grow, it MUST get an inch of water every day for the first two weeks, and then at least once a week for a good month or two. It’s drought-resistant when it’s mature, but not when it’s a baby. My garden lives and dies by my automated water timer.

If you wanted to completely kill the grass you had starting out, I’m also not sure about the specific procedure for smothering grass and replacing it with a different lawn cover. A really common technique is to smother it with newspaper or cardboard and mulch like wood chips, straw, hay, or autumn leaves, but I’m not sure how well it works to seed something new on top of that–I can forsee patchiness if you’ve got clover trying to establish itself in, say, wood chips. Maybe mulch and a bit of soil? Complicated questions. Anyone know? @elodieunderglass? Bueller?

Anyway, the smothering process takes months. I moved into my new garden May 2019 and spent the whole summer using the bare-earth beds that came with the house and plotting out where 2020′s new beds would go, and then lasagna gardened them in October 2019 so they’d smother and decompose and be ready for next May 2020′s planting. And I’m still very nervous about whether it’ll work out! All my elderly neighbours are very dubious about the whole idea and ready to lend me their rototillers. My PRIDE is on the line.

I hope to hear more about people’s gardens! Everything’s going to be solidly under snow here for another four months, and I just had to move my compost bins into the heated garage because the compost had literally frozen solid. GOD WHY DOES WINTER HAVE TO LAST SO LOOOOONG. (Oh, though I could update about the seedlings we got going upstairs, and my poor beleaguered boston fern)

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 16X08

OH MY GOD!!! That was amazing! I cried. I screamed. I swore. It was SO good! The 350th episode of Grey’s Anatomy was incredible. There were so many call backs! I think they pretty much touch on every major storyline from the early seasons. On top of that Meredith and DeLuca finally broke up!!! I’m so happy.

Now onto the recap and review! Meredith finally has her day in court! She has to go before the medical commission about her license. The whole gang turns up for Meredith’s hearing. We find out that Richard just got back into town as he was away attending Sabi’s funeral. Neither Catherine nor Jackson went. That’s awkward. We learn that Teddy is sleep deprived because Allison isn’t sleeping and Owen isn’t pulling his weight as a parent. Link then gives Teddy his coffee because she needs it more than he does.

It’s nice to see them all getting along. Bailey then shows up and tries to pull so bureaucratic BS on the rest of the doctors and Richard is having none of it. Meanwhile back at the hospital the residents are holding down the fort while most of the attendings are away for the hearing. Koracick’s student from Hopkins is such a killjoy! I loved all the call backs to the crimes of seasons past! Also a big shout out to Meredith’s long suffering lawyer! This woman deserves a pay raise! She has her work cut out for her.

And as it turns out that’s not even the half of it because … THE SEXIST AGEIST ASSHOLE DOCTOR THAT KNOWINGLY KILLED DEREK SHEPHERD IS ON THE PANEL!!!! This raises so many questions. How is that man still practicing medicine?!?! How was he not fired? How has HE not lost his license when he knowingly killed a man in cold blood?!?!? To top it all off he’s late to the hearing which suggests that he’s still just as incompetent as he was when he knowingly overrode Penny and murdered Derek. WTF?!?!

His presence there becomes even more infuriating as it becomes clear that he doesn’t even remember murdering Derek or the way he treated Meredith. He doesn’t recognize her at all. The nerve of this creep. Poor Meredith. As if this day wasn’t already hard enough! They call Bailey to the stand and she is not happy about being questioned. She answers her questions robotically and acts like she barely knows Meredith at all. The flashbacks to past cases were great!

I get that Bailey’s pissed but her behaviour seems a bit overboard. Does she actually want Mer to lose her license? We find out that the U.S. Government sent Gabby’s Mom from a Detention Centre back to Honduras while Gabby and her Dad are still in the U.S. I hate this. I hate that this stuff is happening to real families. It’s heartbreaking. They call DeLuca to the stand. It does not go well.

I knew Mer being in another attending/resident relationship was going to bite her in the ass and here it is. I hate that Mer got publicly roasted when DeLuca was the one that threaten her when she tried to help after Alex beat him up. The prosecution makes it seem like Meredith came onto to DeLuca to fix things after Alex beat him up when in reality she wanted nothing to do with him and he came on to her. So stupid. I felt so bad for Schmitt. He tried to bring some levity to the proceedings and he tried to help with his testimony but wound up making it worse. I don't understand why Meredith and DeLuca are even still together at this point.

Man this trial is digging up all the dirt! Richard takes the stand and he lies to protect Mer when the prosecution brings up the Alzheimer’s trial. Then they bring in Richard’s assistant from the early seasons! They really pulled out all the stops for this episode! That must have taken a lot of planning. I wonder if the previous main cast members were supposed to be here too but the actors couldn’t make it because of scheduling. And the hits just keep on coming! From Richard’s assistant we find out that Meredith was never supposed to be at Seattle Grace Hospital in the first place.

She didn’t match there at all. When the match list came through and Meredith’s name wasn’t on it Richard put in a call to have Meredith brought to Seattle Grace. He always made it sound like she was on the list and he chose to accept her. The secrets are coming out! Then it gets really good. Alex is on the stand and the asshole doctor who killed Derek tries to pull more punches and starts asking extremely personal irrelevant questions about her kids. Alex says he doesn’t see how any of that is relevant and the asshole doctor tries to say that she’s irresponsible.

And that’s when Mer loses it. After sitting there and being quiet and keeping her mouth shut all day and doing as her lawyer told she’s had enough. This bastard took her husband and doesn’t even remember her. He doesn’t get to take her license or her career or talk about her children whose father he murdered. And that’s exactly what she tells him. Loudly. She makes an impassioned speech where she says the names of all of the spouses of the people that have died on her watch and calls him on the fact that he can’t do the same.

This bastard is a disgrace to medicine and he doesn’t get to sit there and judge her or say her children’s names! In response he continues to be an idiotic, incompetent, aggravating ass at which point Meredith has officially had enough and makes that perfectly clear. In response the asshole promptly kneels over and starts seizing. Karma’s a bitch!

In response Meredith helps assess and treat his injuries and as the paramedics arrive she yells at them to take him to Grey Sloan and get a Head CT. She makes sure that her husband’s killer gets the best possible care because that’s who she is. Outside the hotel Bailey and Richard have a heart to heart and Richard realizes that Bailey is jealous of the special treatment he gives Meredith. I didn’t see that coming.

At Meredith’s request Amelia accompanies the asshole doctor to Grey Sloan where Link and Teddy join her. She realizes that in addition to his seizures he also has a brain tumour so she asks Tom to operate and take it out. Poor Amelia. She’s come so far! Tumour Amelia would have performed the surgery and destroyed herself doing it. Post-Tumour Amelia recognizes that she can’t and gets Koracick to do it instead. That’s some real growth right there. Back at the hotel what remains of the panel decides to postpone the hearing but then Alex walks in and says they can’t do that because a massive group of Meredith’s former patient have come from all over to speak on her behalf. My heart! This groups includes the Paramedic Meredith saved when she was a resident! Katie freaking Bryce who we find out is now a Mom because Meredith and Derek and then Meredith and Amelia saved her!

Back at the hospital Amelia and Link are watching Koracick operate. I love Link! He’s the best! He’s so supportive and kind. And then just when you thought you couldn’t get anymore emotional a cover of ‘Where Does the Good Go?’ By Tegan and Sara starts playing. That’s Meredith and Derek’s song. It played on their first date. It’s also the song that played when Meredith and Cristina danced it out one last time. We cut back to the hotel to find Alex reading a beautiful and badass statement that Cristina sent from Switzerland to be read at Mer’s hearing! I’m crying! She is the sun!!!

We find out that Callie, Arizona, and April wrote letters and support statements too! And Addison Montgomery wrote one too!!! Wow I did not see that one coming! Alex is so smug. I love it. He knows he’s got them the bastards! Just then Bailey bursts in. She has something to say about Meredith. As the panelist says, “For God’s sakes who doesn’t?” Too funny! Bailey comes through for Mer and gives an impassioned speech about how she deserved to be punished but that she doesn’t deserve to lose her license because she’s too good of a doctor. She finished by saying that she is Dr. Miranda Bailey, Chief of Grey Sloan Memorial, “And I approve this message.” So funny! I love it.

Back at the hospital we find out that the asshole doctor died while having brain surgery! GOOD! That’s what he deserved. Suck it! It’s rather ironic considering he murdered Derek under similar circumstances. You reap what you sew you bastard! Amelia, Link, and Teddy arrive back at the hotel and tell everyone the news. Amelia is so happy that the asshole who killed Derek is dead! I love it!

Mer’s lawyer comes back in and we find out that due to the deluge of witnesses who came to Meredith’s defence and the fact that the Panel Chair murdered the defendant’s husband and didn’t even remember her two out of the three remaining panelists have decided to drop the matter completely which means that MEREDITH GETS TO KEEP HER LICENSE!!! YEAH!!!!

Afterwards Bailey and Meredith talk in the hallway. She offers Meredith her job back and she accepts! They hug it out! Meanwhile Maggie and Jackson are drinking back at Meredith’s house. LOL. And then Jackson tries to make a pass and they almost kiss and then Jackson stops himself so Maggie tells him to get out. Good idea. Back at the hospital Koracick’s student is a complete dickhead and pins Mer almost losing her licence on Schmitt who did nothing wrong.

All of the Schmitt’s friends and fellow residents turn on him, walk out, and refuse to speak to him because of this. God he is such an asshole! Schmitt was just trying to help. He honestly thought the hospital had made a mistake! Medicine like so much else in life is a team sport. People like Koracick’s asshole student aren’t doing themselves any favours by screwing other people over. Back at Mer’s place she arrives home to find Jackson leaving and Maggie upset. Jackson congratulates her on her win and leaves. Mer asks Maggie what’s wrong and she says that she hates him and never wants to see him again. Makes sense. There’s a knock at the door and Maggie leaves thinking it’s Jackson. It’s not it’s DeLuca.

He asks if they can talk and they go outside to talk on the front porch. After circling the issue for a season and a half Meredith and DeLuca finally talk about how Mer doesn’t see DeLuca as an equal because he’s not. She doesn’t respect him like she did Derek because he’s not worthy of her respect. DeLuca’s insecurities about not being on Mer’s level finally come to the surface and he realizes what has been obvious from the start. He’s not a part of her life or her family. Not really. He tries hard, but that’s not the same thing.

Like he says DeLuca’s her boyfriend but not her partner. And he never will be. He doesn’t fit in and he’s not on her level. Time won’t change that. As is referenced during the hearing Meredith was on Derek’s level from the time she was an Intern. DeLuca’s never been on Meredith’s level and he’s a fifth year resident. That’s always been the case. DeLuca’s an okay doctor. But he’s not great. He’s not brilliant. He’s not innovative. He’s just okay and that’s all he’ll ever be. Meredith deserves someone great. Someone is as amazing as she is. I’m so glad they finally broke up! I was so sick of this storyline. It was boring and nonsensical to watch from the beginning.

Until next time!

[euphoricethan]

Summer Of ‘70 - E.D II (au)

Part one available here.

Summary: Ethan and Y/n get into trouble and soon Ethan finds out some things out about Y/n’s past. She then turns him into a puddle just before he leaves to go back to New Jersey.

Word count: 3.2k

“There is no way I’m going! Not a chance!” Ethan shouted up at Y/n who was ten feet in a tree that hung over the shallow part of the river. 

“Oh come on! It’s not even that bad!” she was growing impatient, as, Ethan was never the type to turn down doing something adventurous. But he was hesitant, only because the water was fairly shallow and wasn’t capable of supporting them. 

And neither was that tree branch.

“You’re not a wuss, are you?” Y/n asked, knowing damn well that it would get under his quick-healing skin.

“No! Of course not!”

“Then get up here and jump with me!” Y/n was hesitant herself, but she had done it what felt like a million times. And she wasn’t about to let Ethan Dolan stop her from having fun. To her, he was the only other boy she knew besides her brothers that would do crazy things with her.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t say no to her; because she was too beautiful and daring in his eyes that there wasn’t a cell in his body that could deny him of doing as she demanded.

He wished Grayson was there to talk him out of this one though.

Taking a handful of bark into his palm, he gripped tight and flung himself up into a thick branch Y/n had just moved from because it was “Too far from the water.”

“You sure the water is deep enough?” he asked, his heart still thumping so loud he could hear it between words.

“Eh, good enough.” Y/n shrugged it off, scrunching up her nose at him and repeatedly told herself that just because the water was far more shallow than it was last year, that she was going to pussy out and have Ethan make fun of her all day and complaining about she dragged him out on a Sunday when they were supposed to be at church.

But the water was just deep enough, and the two of them were filled to much with adrenaline and nerves that they didn’t even care. They were having fun, and that was the only thing in their principal. 

Once Ethan had somehow managed to reach out and grab ahold of the same branch Y/n was on, it was just a waiting game to see if they would actually chicken out or not. 

“Come on E, we got this.” she told him, reaching her hand out for a second time, giving him the same smile he loved.

He gratefully accepted, still very hesitant but with the added adrenaline from the sudden contact, he was ready for anything.

Hot wind brushed past them, nearly knocking the two scrawny eleven-year-olds off the branch to come nose deep in red-ish brown dirt.

Ethan didn’t know what came over him, but he, again took initiative and lunged forward, pulling Y/n into the river with him.

But this time was different. It hit different.

It took longer to fall, and he felt like gravity had stopped for a moment, catching him in its arms and telling him to wait. The water was hot, and as shallow as Cameron when she got to paint the garage door last summer with their dad and the boys couldn’t.

Different, because when he resurfaced from the water, Y/n didn’t. She was face down with her arms spread out wide as if she were making a snow angel.

He laughed, thinking it was some kind of a prank; waiting for her to spring up from the water and scare him to death.

“Good one Y/n, you got me.” Ethan gently jossiled her a little, and that made his nerves skyrocket when she just floated away from him.

Ethan now panicked. I killed her, oh my god I killed her! he thought, widening his eyes at the sight of what looked like her dead body.

“Shit.” he mumbled.

He cupped his cheeks, running them up to his wet hair that was being brushed back with his shaking hands. He thought he was a murderer.

He thought he murdered the only girl he knew that wasn’t afraid of having fun, or being scared of bugs, being adventurous. He only girl he has ever really had a crush on.

And yes, he did. It was obvious.

His mind was sprinting faster than he thought fathomable and the next minute he was lunging at her and dragging her up the hill to the dirt.

Her hair was stuck to her dark shirt that was indefinitely her older brothers, lips slightly pulled apart and she was cold.

Dead cold.

“Oh god, oh my go— gosh.”

He had no idea how to do CPR and it didn’t help that he was nearly having an anxiety attack thinking he had killed this poor girl.

Y/n was lying there stiff as a board, and he was moving nearly every part in his body trying to figure out what to do.

Should I try and get help? No, it’s Sunday, people are still at church. Do I try and give her CPR? How do I even do that? Does that mean I have to kiss her? Will I become a dad if I kiss her? What if I kiss her and become a dad and she’s still dead?!

He somehow collected himself, knowing that if he didn’t do something soon she would die if she hadn’t already.

Ethan tried remembering what his Dad had done when Grayson jumped off the diving board at home with no floaties and how he made him start breathing again. 

Gently placing his hands on her chest, he tried for the life of him to comprehend and remember how many times to do it and make sure he was even doing it right.

“Come on Y/n, come on.” he muttered, for some reason started to form tears in his eyes.

He didn’t know how to check a pulse, but he had seen many times on TV that they check their necks with their fingers. So that’s what he did.

His scrawny fingers touched her neck, and he was scared when he felt her heartbeat but not seeing the rise and fall of her chest. 

Ethan picked up her head, holding it with one hand as he plugged her nose shut. Reaching down, he was inches away from her glowing skin before she opened up her eyes and shot a mouthful of water at him.

“Jesus Ethan, I could have died!” she yelled, following with a wheeze. 

He stumbled back, staring blankly at the dirt while her laugh had drowned --no pun intended-- out.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought you’d like my prank; my brother Conner used to do it to me all the time before I started doing it to our Mom and Dad.”

She tried laughing again to try and break the heavy tension between the two of them. Ethan wasn’t having it.

“That’s not funny Y/n. Making dead jokes isn’t funny. And don’t swear like that; were supposed to be at church you know.” he got up, and started walking off before she could protest.

She got up and followed him. “Wait, E!”

He ran as fast as he could up into the treehouse, kicking off the blocks of wood that they used as steps so she wouldn’t be able to get to him. 

Ethan didn’t know what was happening. He was crying, arms tucked tightly around his knees that were brought up to his chest and were rocking him slowly back and forth.

He remembered their parents telling the twins when they were a little younger, a few years ago the reason behind Grayson’s inahler when they were at the pharmacy getting a new one for him.

“When you boys were born, E, you had came out first; you know that. But Grayson, well he had gotten stuck coming out and that’s the reason why you guys are so far apart for being twins.”

“Well what about his inhaler?” he asked his Mother.

“I’m getting there. So, when the doctor had finally delivered Gray, he was purple all over and, well, he wasn’t breathing. His heart had practically flat-lined. Do you know what flat-lined means?”

He shook his head.

“It’s when your heart stops working and you pass away.”

“So Grayson passed away?”

“Technically. But the doctor and all the nurses were able to bring him back to life.”

“So that’s why he can’t breath? Because he’ll flat-line?”

She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “No baby, not exactly. It just means his lungs and his heart are fragile. So you make sure when you guys are outside playing or riding bikes, he has it okay?” he nodded and took in every word his Mom had told him.

Now, a few years later, sitting in the treehouse that Grayson wasn’t in with him, he started to feel guilty. He knew fair enough that he had some difficulties, and he left him. He straight up left his younger, fragile brother for some dumb girl who made a joke about passing away.

He was now sprinting, running as fast as his legs could possibly carry him and listening to the sound of his damp shoes hitting the pavement. Over and over again.

Their grandparents car pulled into the driveway, and the frightened elderly couple nearly crashed the car into the garage door seeing the sight of Ethan.

His grandmother screamed, and bolted for him in a matter of seconds before he knew why she was hugging him so hard.

“Boy--”

He cut her off. “Grandma, I know, I’m in trouble. Lots of it. Please, just spare me the rant and ground me.”

“What are you talking about? Oh my goodness boy you’re drenched. Lets get you inside and changed before you get hypothermia.” he was ushered inside, and Grayson looked at him with Beck by his side not saying a word.

After he was forced into a steamy shower that felt like it was peeling off his skin, he was sent to bed at seven PM just like normal.

His grandmother only spoke a few words to him like: “You scared your Papa and I to death! Don’t you do that ever again? You hear me?” and: “What were you thinking sneaking off with that girl? She is trouble.”

Grayson didn’t say a word to him all night.

The next morning, when Ethan pulled the covers from his hot skin and made his way into the kitchen where Grayson was sitting, stirring his mushy cereal and propping his head with his elbow rested on the table.

“Grayson, take your elbow off the table, it’s unproper to do such a thing.” Their Papa warned.

Ethan stayed silent, and reached for his own bowl.

No one said a word, and he was starting to wonder what he had done to make everyone —especially Grayson— mad at him. Sure, he had snuck out of church to go be Reckless with Y/n, but he returned home with no broken bones and hoping to say sorry to Grayson for leaving him for a stupid girl.

But it looks like he’s been spending a lot of time with Beck anyway.

His grandmother walked in and poored his milk for him.

“I don’t want you hanging out with that Y/n girl anymore Ethan Grant. She is a troubled girl and just because her brother passed away doesn’t mean that you can leave church and frolick around with her unsupervised.”

A stone fell onto his chest.

“What?” He finally said, having to repeat himself since his mouth was so dry.

“You heard me. No more interacting with that girl. Don’t make me tell you again. Now eat your cereal.”

“No no, Grandma, what do you mean her brother passed away? She said she had loads of them?” He was already read at the face with more tears in his eyes.

“Yes. He passed early last year when him and his friends were ice skating and the ice was too thin he fell through and passed away. That’s why they moved here.” The words spiraled out of her mouth like it meant nothing.

But to Ethan, it was the most aghast thing he has ever heard besides learning about the birds and bees.

He felt guilty; again. Because he didn’t know better, he was only eleven and was still so impressionable to where he didn’t know how some people coped with the loss of someone.

He didn’t know that Conner, Y/n’s older brother had passed away, and that making a joke about it made her feel better somehow.

Because he was everything to her. She learned most from him because they were both the craziest out of the four.

And because she loved him so much, it’s hard for her young mind to understand that he’s gone; and things can’t go back to the way there were when they went on adventures and he took her out to the drive-in past her bedtime.

Ethan didn’t fully understand why Y/n was the way she was. Why she was wild like him, or why she wore her brothers clothes.

He didn’t get that maybe he would do something like that if Grayson never made it, never came back to life after he flat-lined or died the way Conner did.

September.

It’s been almost a month since Ethan has talked to Y/n. He followed his Grandmothers rules and stayed inside unless they A: went to church or B: made him do his chores like taking out the trash or mowing.

He ignored her at church though, and never talked to her if Grayson was sitting in the lawn on the swing with Beck next to him and Y/n sitting alone playing a matching game with her deck of cards.

He wanted to talk to her, tell her that he was sorry and he didn’t know her brother died; but he didn’t want to risk getting yelled at.

Soon, the day came where they had to go back to New Jersey, and leave behind Sam and their grandparents.

Grayson had finally had his first kiss. And that made Sam’s blood boil. Because, well, it was Beck who had given Grayson a quick peck before she had to go home the night before last.

Ethan, who was lovestruck and heartbroken at the same time, didn’t. And he was scared that he would never see Y/n again after this summer. He didn’t want to leave his first childhood crush in a different state he might not ever return to.

But it was inevitable. He couldn’t stay there forever. He had missed his Mom’s big hugs and her giving him a nice haircut before school started, and he missed his Dad and Cameron leaving the two boys to be with themselves while they did fun stuff together.

“Have you got all your things son?” His papa asked, standing at the door while Ethan made over his bed for the last time until next summer.

“Yeah.” He replied.

The two boys were in the backseat of the yellow Station wagon, waiting for their Papa to place their bags in the trunk.

But of course, Beck had showed up last minute to say goodbye to her lover with— Y/n standing beside her with her hair parted to the side and a big light red silk bow tied into her ponytail.

She had her head held low, playing with her hands that were locked together and facing up to the sky.

“Hi Ethan.” Beck said, smiling at him and distracting him from Y/n.

“Oh, hi,” he muttered, giving her a small wave before he retrieved back to staring out the window away from the three.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Dolan.” He heard Y/n whisper, and he turned his head to see her talking to his grandmother who was standing outside the car waiting to get in.

“It’s actually Mrs.— thank you dear, it’s good to hear. And I’m sorry about your brother, I’m sure he meant a lot to you.” Y/n looked down again, nodding slowly.

Grayson nudged him.

“What?” He whispered. He just nudged him again.

“Well, why don’t you say your goodbyes before the boys leave. You won’t be seeing them until next June.” She placed her hand gently on the back of her neck, and ushered her to go around the car.

The nerves built up inside Ethan’s stomach trying to warn him what was next to come.

Y/n was now on Ethan’s side of the car, poking her head into the window just slightly. “Hi.” she said quietly.

He was nervous (that was obvious) and he truly didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t tell her he was sorry.

“Sorry.” they both said in unison, and taking them by surprise.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and cocked her head back. “Wait-- why are you sorry? She asked.

His heart sank again. “Well I- I didn’t know about your brother. I’m really sorry, really.” that made her heart break. She didn’t want him to bring up Conner, because it was still hard for her, and having Ethan as someone who was adventurous and held the same energy as her was her escape. She loved having him around and making memories all Summer long.

“It’s okay E. You didn’t know.” she smiled softly at him, hiding the fact that when he left to go back to New Jersey, she would cry to her mom about it. Her emotions were a mess and she couldn’t seem to control them.

“Y/n?” he asked, looking around to see that his grandmother was busy filling out her crossword puzzle and his Papa struggled to fit the luggage into the truck -- even though there was loads of space. (Ethan now knows that he was just stalling so they could have just a little bit longer together)-- and Grayson was gushing hard with Beck doing the same, introverting them into their own little world.

Ethan went to open his mouth to tell her a joke, but before he could get a word out, she leaned her head into the car and quickly pecked Ethan’s lips which left him a complete love puddle.

She turned a bright, dark red, and smiled hard to where her cheeks had started to ache.

He was shocked, baffled, and just beyond scared. Only because Grayson was now watching, along with Beck and both his grandparents.

His Papa was now in the car, starting up the engine when Ethan had finally come to the realization that he was indeed leaving… and wouldn’t be back until next summer.

Y/n backed up from the car, still smiling hard and waving him & Grayson a goodbye. “Don’t do anything stupid!” she called after him seconds after they pulled out of the driveway.

Ethan was a puddle and Y/n was acting more of a girl that she had ever.

His world was mushy because of her; and let’s just say, the next time he’d be seeing her, a lot of things will change.