#special apology for my friends on my main account. sorry if i worried you i just needed a break

[aimtodraw]

hetalia post in 2024?! more likely than you think

[whereisten]

Porcelain

A Yangyang fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After a falling out with your friends, you wander into a forest and find a mysterious mansion with an even more mysterious inhabitant, Yangyang. 

Pairing: rich boy!Yangyang x female reader 

Genre: romance, fluff, fantasy, mystery, suspense, drama

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Violence

(A/N): hey y’all! So the timing for posting this story worked out so well because it’s Yangyang’s birthday (in America!) :D Anyway, this is our second story for our Halloween Series for NCT 2020 and we hope you enjoy!  I’m so excited to be writing for one of my biases. I know my writing needs a lot of work but I hope you guys enjoy it. Yangyang is precious. Stan Yangyang, y’all. Shoutout to Krys for inspiring me everyday and for proofreading my story! You are my rock!

_______

It was October 10, the day in which your small town came together for a big bonfire to celebrate the fall season. Your town of Celestial was known for celebrating something every week but the atmosphere was always special at this time of the year. Classes ended for the week and your friends were excited to go to a party in the woods.

Unfortunately for you, you were abandoned off the side of the road after having a falling out with your friends Dowoon and Sana for blowing off the mayor’s son’s party. You’d recently been rebuffed by him in the senior hallway. Your rejection was followed by your classmates mocking you all day long. You wouldn’t be caught dead at Peter’s party. And you were especially in no mood to put up with your friends’ preference for a good party over their recently spurned friend’s feelings.

You said screw them but they would probably end up screwing each other anyway. They were platonic but their drunken hookups always said otherwise. So sometimes you felt like a third wheel. Which was also why you didn’t want to go. You wanted a new experience this spooky season. And you were probably getting one now that you were 2 miles outside of town. Damn your pride. Dowoon and Sana insisted you get back in the car but the driver, the school quarterback, quickly drove them off. What a sense of community, you thought.

It was freezing in Celestial at this time of year so you were layered up, saving your pair of ruby red mittens for last. The overcast sky appeared to promise snowfall. If not for tonight, the snow would surely fall tomorrow

You knew this area well enough to walk back into town but as you took a few steps forward, you noticed smoke in the distance. Like it was coming from a chimney.

That was odd, you thought. Who lived on this side of town?

As you walked in the direction of the smoke, you moved past the dense evergreen trees and before you knew it, you stumbled upon a mansion out of an old-time movie. Dating back to at most the 1800s. The mansion was a Renaissance chateau, big and domineering. Something that could’ve made Celestial a tourist destination like Asheville had with the Biltmore Estate.

How was it possible that anyone could live here, you thought. Surely, this would be the talk of the town if anyone knew. And if it was off-limits, it would’ve certainly kept the town on their toes.

The mansion was quiet and there was no trace of movement or inhabitants. Then again, it was large so you could be incorrect. The chateau’s main entrance was big and made of the most pristine marble. The only thing missing was a moat. There were several fountains in the entrance. The water froze due to the colder weather. You didn’t understand how you could keep moving forward. You didn’t know this place. You didn’t know who could be inside. But you found yourself taking steps up to the massive double doors. Your hand moved to the doorknob and turned it over. The door creaked open and without a second thought, you walked in.

The door slammed shut behind you but you weren’t afraid. In fact, you were mesmerized by the atmosphere of the mansion. From the outside the mansion looked preserved like a fine piece of art in a high-surveillance museum: cold and unwelcoming and way out of your price range. But on the inside, it felt...warm and bright. It felt like home. It smelled of cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

You walked through the entryway and found everything illuminated by candle light. There was no indication of light from the outside. It was almost as if the real goings-on were hidden from the outside world.  

There were shoes at the entrance. You took your boots off to not track dirt into the residence. Winter coats were hung up on the coat rack. You hang your coat up as well. There was a half-full cup of tea that was beside the sofa of the sitting room. You admired the interior: the expansive first floor library, the dining room table that sat seven, the pristine kitchen area, the music room...

As you stood in the doorway of the music room, you heard the sounds of a violin playing a somber but sweet melody. Rather than grow alarmed, you longed to find the source, thinking that whatever it was could only bring you joy.

The music room was massive, with a skylight in the shape of a spade on the ceiling. The sunset colors of the sky never looked more stunning than they did at that moment.  A grand piano lay at the center. You longed to touch it but something inside you warned you against it. Instruments of all kinds were splayed across the area. But there was no violin in sight.

When you turned around to continue exploring the mansion, that was when you found the source of the music.

A boy about your age stood before you with his violin rested against his collarbone. He continued to play as he smiled knowingly at you. He had straight brown hair that nearly fell into his warm brown eyes. He donned a black tuxedo that was more regal than modern. His eyes crinkled as he watched you, delighted to meet such a beautiful stranger.

You nearly jumped at his presence. “Who…are you?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he replied as he continued playing, “I should be asking you that. You’ve broken into our home.”

“Our?” You asked.

He shook his head. “What brings you here, miss?”

You knew you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to  but you couldn’t help it. This place called out to you and you’d hoped you could stay longer. But it looked like your time was up. You lamely said, “I…need to borrow your phone.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to. What’s this ‘phone’ you speak of?” His refined voice was not like that of the locals. He sounded well-traveled, worldly. But definitely from a long time ago. 

The more you spoke to this young man, the more you realized that he didn’t sound like he lived in the same century as you.

You frowned. “You don’t know what a phone is? Come on, you’re kidding, aren’t you?”

He halted from playing and gave you a look. “Tell me. What is a phone?”

“…It’s a device that lets you speak to someone who isn’t with you…” You attempted an explanation that was as eloquent as possible, thinking that if you spoke in a more refined tone, he would get what you were saying. Where on earth could this boy have been from to not know what a phone is? He really sounded like someone from a century past.

“Like a medium?” He asked as he set his violin down in its case. He put his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly back to you. Your breathing stalled as his face was mere inches from yours. He was indeed very handsome. His high cheekbones. His glorious tan skin. A pearly white set of teeth. His legs were dangerously long as he faced you.

Your face warmed up and you hoped he couldn’t tell. You backed away as you locked your eyes on the piano instead. “No…It’s like if I were two miles away from here and you needed to get a hold of me, you could use a phone to contact me on another phone. It’s an electronic device.”

He nodded. “Oh, I’ve heard of those…My family and I could not acquire them, unfortunately.” His expression became sad, longing.

Hearing his defeated voice, you turned to him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Why is that?”

He looked at you, defeated. “I’d rather not say, miss…”

“Y/n,” you answered.

“Y/n,” he replied, liking the sound of your name.

“It’s okay,” you replied, “I should probably go…I’ve overstayed my welcome, sir….Your name?”

“Yangyang,” he answered, anticipating the sound of his name off of your lips.

“Yangyang…Would it be possible to get a ride back into town? I can pay you for your trouble.”

He smiled apologetically. “My sincerest apologies but I’ve no means to take you.”

“Oh…” It was all you could say.

You felt a small pang of worry at the pit of your stomach, especially now that night had fallen. Perhaps, you could make your way back into town if Yangyang offered you a torch. He would have that much, at the very least.

“It’s dangerous to go out on your own at this time of night, y/n…” He said, quietly. It was a little eerie that he read your mind at that moment.

“I know. I’m such a fool…I couldn’t borrow my father’s phone for the night so I have no way of calling anyone…I…just couldn’t help myself when I walked in here…” You said as you looked around the music room. “It was like…”

“Something pulled you in,” he finished.

“Yes, exactly.”

Yangyang began, “I know it’s out of turn for me to say this but I can offer you a room to stay in for the night…Then, you can make your way back into town in the morning.”

You were beyond lucky your parents weren’t home for the weekend. Otherwise, they’d be worried sick. But even so…How could you say yes to a total stranger? Even if you were only a few miles out of town, you didn’t know Yangyang. You didn’t know what his intentions could be.

Another part of you told you to trust him. Because what would you do in the woods at night? You couldn’t account for the wolves or the other creatures of the night. You didn’t know who else could linger in the woods.

As far as you could tell, Yangyang was an odd but attractive guy. And if he was offering a separate space for you to sleep in, then you should take it.

_______

There was a snowstorm in a matter of minutes when Yangyang escorted you upstairs. How odd for it to be snowing in early October, you thought. You rejoiced over how your jerk of a crush's party was a bust. You wondered if Sana and Dowoon made it home safely. You wondered if they worried about you now. After they left you in the middle of the road.

Maybe you should stop being friends with them. You felt like you were more disappointed in them with each passing week. You wondered when they would do something for you. It always seemed to fall on you to pick them up from parties and cover for them when their parents called your house when they went to a 21+ club. You just wanted a simple night in to watch a movie and share ghost stories. Maybe they didn’t want to do those things anymore.

You wouldn’t say they grew up but maybe...the three of you just grew apart.

You pushed thoughts of them to the back of your mind as Yangyang stood in front of an ornate door, decorated with flower engravings, painted in several colors. The initials at the bottom were “W.T.”.

Yangyang pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door for you. He handed the set of golden keys to you. “These are yours for the duration of your stay. You can trust no one will come in...Unless it be your wish, y/n.”

He dropped the keys into your hands. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Yangyang smiled. “You are welcome. Supper will be ready in an hour. I’ll come for you when it is time.”

You couldn’t look at him for too long without your eyes burning. He was too radiant. Too beautiful. Almost otherworldly. You looked down at your socks as you entered the room. You shut it gently behind you.

You locked the door from the inside, trusting that Yangyang gave you the only set. You took a sigh of relief as you took in the bedroom.

This had to be a mistake, you thought.

This had to be the master room. It felt like you were in a 19th century penthouse suite, if such a thing had existed. Your room for the night started with a fireplace and a sitting area. When you walked past it, you entered the study area that was bigger than the first floor of your house. You had a massive walk-in closet filled with gowns and shoes of every color. You even had a room full of fine jewelry on display, including tiaras studded with diamonds. Your mouth remained open as you walked through the “bedroom”.

You shouldn’t have access to any of these things. For they must have belonged to someone. Why would Yangyang let you sleep in here?

Lastly, as your heart couldn’t take anymore, the bedroom was plush and luxurious. The carpet embraced the soles of your feet. After resisting the urge to touch everything else in the bedroom, you allowed yourself to sit on the king-sized bed.

Sleeping in this bed would’ve compensated for all of the all-nighters you’ve pulled in your life. It was a shame you wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, though.

You were many things. Naive, innocent, studious, and quite impulsive at times. But you weren’t about to fall asleep in a stranger’s home.

Half an hour passed as you washed up and warmed up by the fireplace.

Yangyang knocked at your door. You thought it odd that he would be escorting you down himself. Shouldn’t he have servants, living in a place like this?

You opened the door and Yangyang stared at you in shock.

“What?” You frowned. You looked exactly the same as you did when you first met him, he realized.

“Were none of the gowns to your liking?” Yangyang asked, genuinely confused.

You did a double take. “What? Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly...Those aren’t mine. I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality. No more than I already have.”

Yangyang was stunned at your decision. He thought you would have tried on all of the dresses in the past half hour and don the diamond tiara with golden accents...But no...The suite he’d given you was relatively untouched. You were certainly a woman of your word. You would’ve looked stunning in the red sleeveless dress, he thought. He snapped out of it and said, “No matter. You had the option...That’s why I gave you this room. Everything within these mansion walls is at your disposal.”

You laughed. “You’ve done more than enough for me so don’t worry. Now...can we go eat? I really can’t turn down a meal.” You hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Yangyang laughed at your candor. “Of course.”

As you walked down the grand wooden staircase, you could hear more people in the house. You heard chairs being pulled, laughter, clinking of glasses, and the piano being played.

You turned to Yangyang. “Who...”

Yangyang replied, “My brothers will be joining us for supper.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. When you entered, you were shocked enough that Yangyang was there. Who knew more people resided here? Up until now, it was so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop.

That, and Yangyang’s violin. Which you longed to hear again.

You felt quite underdressed upon meeting Yangyang’s brothers in the dining room, which boasted a lot of paintings and miniature statues to the men who stood before you. There was another grand piano in the dining area, where one of Yangyang’s brothers sat and played a lively piece. Three of the brothers were laughing about an anecdote that the tallest of the group told. The final two men sat as...to your surprise, servants finished setting the dining table, lighting the flames of the candles in the center. The servants’ dresses had turned up collars with plain neckties. Yangyang’s brothers all donned suits of dark reds, blues, and grays. They looked like members of a royal family.

At the sight of you, the music stopped and all of the men started moving towards you and Yangyang.

“Yangyang, an introduction is in order,” the pianist asked as he got up from his seat.

“Brothers, this is y/n. She is staying with us before she returns to town in the morning,” Yangyang said, the humor in his voice when he spoke with you vanished. He moved closer to you, you noticed.

The pianist asked for your hand and kissed it. “Enchanted to meet you, y/n. I am Wei Kun, the oldest of the Wei children.”

You coughed, a little shocked at how forward Kun was. It was a culture shock to you. Most boys thought they were too damn special to ever make eye contact with you.

You shook hands with the other brothers. They were all very happy to see you. But you couldn’t quite place what kind of joy it was so you remained on your toes.

“Please, sit,” Winwin said as he led you to the seat right next to the head of the table. Kun sat down at the head of the table and smiled at you. The rest of the brothers joined you.

The servants began to bring out the drinks and the first course. Ten was about to sit next to you when Yangyang immediately claimed the seat.

“Calm down, brother,” Ten said, “It won’t do you harm to let her sit beside someone other than you.”

Yangyang remained in his seat. “She is my guest.”

Ten chuckled as he sat across from you. “So y/n, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

A servant poured a glass of water for you. “Thank you,” you replied and tried to meet her eyes.

The servant quickly turned away and headed to the kitchen, you assumed. That was odd.

“Well,” you continued, “My friends and I were going to a party in the woods. We got into a fight and I got out of the car that was on the road not too far from here…”

“A car?” Xiaojun frowned, his bold eyebrows furrowed. He took a bite of his salad.

So these men didn’t know phones or cars... “Oh...Well, they’re these machines that can transport people from place to place…”

“Like a carriage?” Yangyang offered.

“Ah.” The rest of the boys said in realization.

You nodded as you drank your water, “Yes, but it runs on gasoline.”

The boys were amazed at your tales about modern technology. You went into as much detail as you could about phones and cars. The boys were an odd bunch. It was almost as if they never left this house.

Although it seemed like that, they told you tales of their travels to Asia, South America, and Europe. They told you about their cultural expeditions and their visits to the natural wonders of the world. Ten, the painter of the family, motioned to the paintings you’d seen earlier. They were paintings of places like Machu Picchu, the Colosseum, and the Parthenon. They were paintings of the places they visited. They were so vivid and lifelike. Ten was an incredible painter. Talent ran in the family, that was a sure thing. You were as much in awe of their tales. You were thankful the spotlight wasn’t on you like you’d expected, being the sole stranger of this household.

You enjoyed the salad, the tomato soup, the roasted duck, and the dessert, which happened to be your favorite: strawberry shortcake.

“Would you care for another slice?” Yangyang asked in a whisper as the other boys talked. He noticed your face come alive at the first bite of the cake.

You nearly choked on the last bite of your slice. You must have looked gluttonous to him. You should’ve eaten slower, you thought. You must have not been very ladylike at that moment. You shook your head. “That’s alright. Thank you. Everything was delicious.”

Yangyang looked at you once again in confusion. You clearly wanted another slice so why weren’t you asking for it, he asked himself. “Very well…” He murmured.

Lucas got up from the table. “Well, Yangyang, the boys and I will retire early...Although we wish you would let us be in y/n’s company…”

Yangyang quickly replied, “Good evening, brothers.”

They all pouted but wished you a good evening.

You laughed. “Your brothers are a lot of fun.”

Yangyang scoffed. “That’s one word for them. The minute they caught wind that I had a visitor, they insisted on joining us for dinner. I am so sorry, y/n. You must have been overwhelmed.”

You shook your head. “It’s nice to know that it isn’t just you in this house.”

Yangyang was stunned at your words. You were so...kind. Thinking of others, always. Thinking of him, basically a total stranger. You were as kind as you were trusting. It made his heart ache.

He pulled your seat back for you. He offered his arm. “Are you tired?”

Exhausted, actually. But once again, you were in a stranger’s house. And now that you knew he wasn’t alone, you wanted to be more on guard.

“Nope...I am wide awake.” You smiled as you took his arm. He was warm to the touch. The electricity ran between both of you.

Yangyang laughed. “What would you like to do, y/n?”

“I’d like to hear you play,” you said.

He was shocked at your honesty. He liked when you expressed yourself honestly most of all.

It was the truth, you thought. Frankly, it was part of your ruse to stay up as late as possible but if Yangyang could keep you entertained, it would certainly help a lot.

And truly, you could listen to his violin for hours.

_______

Back in the music room, you sat on the couch, serving as Yangyang’s audience. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, setting it aside on a chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

He warmed up his hands and fingers for a few minutes before he tuned the strings of his violin. His fingers were so elegant and slender. The veins of his arms protruded as he flexed his hands. He looked so focused and determined and just unbelievably beautiful. The violin was an extension of his heavenly hands. This was the most attractive he’d ever been. You bit your lip.

You told yourself to calm down, for he was a complete stranger.

Sure, up until this point, he gave you the bedroom of your dreams. A dinner that nearly brought you to tears from the flavor and comfort it gave you. And he was playing his beloved instrument for you...But you couldn’t get attached so quickly.

He couldn’t meet your gaze because the look in your eyes made him feel something he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. Time had slipped quickly and his heart was deceiving him when it shouldn’t have.

“So...what will you be playing first?” You asked. How many songs could you get out of him before you both retired to your rooms?

Yangyang grinned excitedly. “An original I’ve been working on...I finished composing it today.”

“Really? Today?” You asked.

He gave you the knowing smile he had the moment you met him. “You helped me finish it.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m ready when you are.” You smiled, about to kick your legs up like an overly excited schoolgirl.

“The piece is called ‘Found’,” Yangyang said as he positioned his bow against the strings and began.

Yangyang was truly an otherworldly being, especially under the skylight. The snowstorm was long gone and only the moonlight shone down on him. His skin illuminated like porcelain. His sculpted face tilted as he immersed himself in his song.

You realized the song was the piece he played when you entered the music room the first time. The song was somber at first. The notes were low and left you feeling down. Yangyang’s face was so melancholic at the start of the song. However, as he continued, the notes became lighter and freer, picking up towards the end, signifying hope. Your heart swayed with each three-note chord he played.

You weren’t entirely sure of the story behind the song but meeting you must not have been a low point of his day.

You clapped for Yangyang. “I loved it! It’s...too beautiful to be called merely beautiful...You are so talented.”

Yangyang’s cheeks were now a rosy pink. He bowed for you. “Thank you.”

You laughed giddily. You wished you could’ve recorded this performance, you longed to keep it with you for the rest of your life.

Yangyang continued playing his original pieces. He was truly gifted in his craft. His compositions were nothing to sneeze at. He should be a world-famous musician with all of the work he’d done.

As he played, he would meet your eyes and give you a little smile. You could watch him for hours. He could play for you for hours.

You two were in this perfect little bubble, then. Reality didn’t take effect. It was divine.

Yangyang’s hands grew tired and after his last song, he sat beside you.

“You look sleepy, y/n,” he noted, “Did my performance actually bore you?” He mocked taking offense.

You fought a yawn but couldn’t let it escape you so turned away from him. You lifted a finger and told him to wait.

You let out a yawn, trying not to be noisy. Yes, you were tired. A long day at school, a falling out with your friends, and an evening at the Wei Mansion did its number on you.

You faced Yangyang again. “I’m wide awake.”

Yangyang lifted an eyebrow in skepticism. “Perhaps you would like  something to drink?”

You nodded. “Something warm...Would hot cocoa be possible?”

“Absolutely. It’s a staple at this household this time of year,” he said.

He offered his hand to you and you took it. Both of you were taken aback by how immediate you were to hold hands but neither of you let go as Yangyang led you into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he tended to you. The servants were nowhere in sight. The mansion felt like it had when you first came in: empty.

It felt like you two were the only people in this house, a world in itself.

He poured you a cup of cocoa he made and you were in love. The cocoa tasted amazing. You drank it slowly, savoring every sip.

You shivered a little from the cold that creeped into the mansion. Yangyang left for a moment and returned with a blanket. He wrapped it around you.

It was plush and made of the softest material you could ever imagine. If you snuggled too much against it, you would fall asleep right then and there.

But your energy started picking up again...It must have been the cocoa.

“We can go into the library...I’ll start up the fire.” Yangyang offered as he drank his cup of cocoa.

It seemed Yangyang was eager to stay awake with you, you thought.

“Aren’t you tired?” You asked.

He looked up from his cup. “What?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to stay up with me. I’m the one who can’t sleep.”

Yangyang knew you were keeping yourself awake on purpose. He knew you didn’t completely trust him or this house. Slowly, however, you opened yourself up to him and he was quite fond of you. He wanted to be by your side for the night. He didn’t know why exactly but he just did.

He met your gaze. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say this...But I want to remain at your side.”

You looked down, flattered at his words. Then, you mustered your courage and met his unwavering stare. “Okay.”

The truth was, you felt safer with Yangyang. And you couldn’t lie to yourself: you liked him. He was kind, attentive, charming, and a wonderful musician. The moment you met him made you forget all of your troubles...if only for a moment.

You two walked into the dome-shaped library. It was bigger than any commercial bookstore. You wondered how old the family’s collection was.

Yangyang started the fire at the fireplace by the reading couches. He motioned for you to take a seat.

You sat down and nearly sank into the couch. It was so comfortable. You were living in the lap of luxury.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Yangyang asked.

You laughed. “Yeah...why?”

“Your eyes rolled to the back of your head,” he said, smiling confusedly.

You laughed again. “It’s because this couch is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on.”

Yangyang smiled and shook his head. “The simplest things please you.”

“Nothing about this house is simple,” you said.

He shook his head, smiling at you and picked up a book off of the shelf. He scanned the title and the summary. “What do you like to read, y/n?”

You answered, “Horror.”

Yangyang’s eyes widened. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yes. I like the suspense and the kinds of creatures the writers come up with.”

Yangyang was wrong to assume you were a romance kind of girl. He’d hoped to woo you with some Shakespeare. He took it in stride and put the book he had back on the shelf. He took a rolling step ladder and positioned it farther away from you. He got up on the steps and picked up another book off the shelf.

“It’s called ‘The Mysterious Mansion’,” he said, biting back a laugh.

“How fitting,” you said, laughing.

You and Yangyang shared a couch as you took turns reading to each other. The story was dark and twisted but got your heart racing.

Well, maybe Yangyang’s being so close to you may have had something to do with it.

The hours pass and you finish off the last page. Yangyang leaned against the other end of the couch and simply watched you. He loved the sound of your voice and the way it cracked.

He gave you a glass of water to relax your voice. He loved how your eyes scanned word for word. The crease between your eyes as you interpreted the author’s words. But you kept on reading aloud. He’d read “The Mysterious Mansion’ several times but this time was his favorite reread.

You could hear Yangyang talk forever when you heard him read the passages. His voice was soothing and full of wonder. The grin on his face right before he read a twist to the story. The crinkle of his nose when he laughed at your reactions. He’d become a friend.

A friend you wanted to kiss.

This was the most fun you’d ever had. This cold October night with this enchanting young man. You kinda wished it would never end but you were still resolved to...Stay...awake…

Your eyes grew heavy and you curled yourself against the couch. You pulled the blanket tighter around you.

Yangyang realized you were drifting. He quickly moved over to you and shook you awake.

You two had stayed up all night and it was nearing daybreak. And he had to move fast.

“Y/n!” He yelled to wake you up.

You grumbled. “What?”

“Please wake up. You need to leave right now,” Yangyang demanded.

You rubbed your eyes and snapped out of it. How the hell did you almost fall asleep, you fool, you thought to yourself. The alarm in Yangyang’s voice also was a cause for concern. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head rampantly. “There’s no time to explain. Do you have everything?”

You nodded. “I have to get my coat and boots at the entrance.”

Yangyang grabbed your hand and you both ran towards the entrance. You put your coat and boots on. Yangyang did the same and he nearly dragged you out the door. You quickly moved down the staircase and set foot on the dewy grass. Yangyang kept his foot on the last step of the staircase.

The sky overhead was mostly black but shades of oranges, pinks, and red were breathing through. Dawn was imminent.

That was when you realized you had no mittens. You’d left them in the bedroom.

Yangyang noticed your bare hands. He pulled off his royal blue mittens and slipped them onto your hands.

“You don’t have to-“ You started.

“I want you to have them. A fair trade. Yours for mine?” He smiled.

He squeezed your hands before he let them go.

“Thank you...for tonight, Yangyang,” you said. Even though it was through the weather and the night that you had no other choice, you had a magical night with a boy who was so wonderful, he must’ve been out of a classic novel. He’d treated you like a friend and listened to you: about what you wanted to do and what you liked. You’d wished you could’ve gotten to know him more but you appreciated that he listened to you attentively.

You were sad the night had ended but you’d succeeded in staying up nearly the whole night at least. You were meant to leave now. You’d overstayed your welcome and you needed to get home. That was the most important thing.

Yangyang moved closer to you and moved some hair away from your face. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand. Once again, you both did something with no thought.

You got up on the staircase and kissed him. He pulled you in to deepen the kiss. He picked you up off the ground as he continuously took your breath away.

But as quickly as this piece of utter bliss started, it quickly ended.

He let you go and set you down on the grass. “Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Yangyang.” As you walked into the forest, you turned back once more and watched as Yangyang stood there, his face unreadable.

You waved at him and his expression softened as he waved back.

You laughed as you turned back now and kept on moving. The path to the main road took a little longer than expected because it was still dark. However, the sun rose before you knew it and you were able to see the main road again.

And you were shocked to find several people on the main road. Cop cars were parked off the side of the road. A news reporter for Channel 23 News could be heard saying.

“It is Day 8 into the search for y/n y/l/n. She was last seen on this road, Road 116 by her friends and has not returned home. If you have seen y/n or have any information that can help our police force find her, please call the number on the screen: 1-800-RES-CUES. Again, that’s 1-800-RES-CUES.”

Dowoon and Sana were being interviewed by another news station.

Dowoon was on the brink of tears, his eyes stained red. “This is all our fault.”

Choking on her tear, Sana continued, “We shouldn’t have left her on the road...We thought she went home...We were so stupid…”

What the hell was going on?

You walked into the road and several people turn to you in shock. They gasped and screamed your name.

Your parents broke out of the crowd of people that has accumulated. “Y/n!” They both yell.

They run up to you and wrap their arms around you, weeping hysterically.

Your mom yelled, “Y/n, where have you been? My baby!”

Your dad held your face in his hands, “What happened to you? Are you alright?”

You were shocked at their reaction. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you guys were in New York until tomorrow.”

Your parents, not letting you go, gave each other a meaningful look.

Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tomorrow? Y/n, we came back a week ago.”

You laughed in disbelief. “No, you guys left Friday morning, yesterday morning.”

Your dad shook his head. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for a week now.”

You laughed again. “No...You guys are messing with me.”

But then you looked around at all of the worried looks on the people’s faces. The police officers came right over. You even saw Dowoon and Sana sobbing not too far from Sana’s car.

“You guys...I stayed in a mansion not too far from here for the night because of the snow…”

“What mansion? What snow?” Your parents asked in unison.

You darted your eyes to everyone else and whispered to them. “Come with me.”

“Y/n, we need to get you home…” Your mom pleaded.

You shook your head. “I need to show you where I was and that I wasn’t in danger.”

“Y/n, we should tell the police-” Your father offered.

“No!” You snapped. “Please trust me. He didn’t do anything to me. He’s my friend.”

At the mention of “he”, your parents were up in arms and motioned for the police to come over.

“We will go with you, y/n…” Your mom said.

She meant that they’ll go with you if you have a police escort.

You shook your head and led the party to the mansion. You couldn’t believe this. Missing for seven days? That was impossible. You’d only been gone for the night. How could anyone have known you’d been gone? Your parents were away.

Once you got out of the forest to the Wei mansion, you saw that there was no mansion. Only an abandoned cabin.

What?

“Is this where you were detained, y/n?” Police Officer A asked.

“I was not detained. This isn’t the mansion I-”

“A mansion?” Everyone looked at you skeptically.

You entered the cabin, knowing that everything you believed in was slipping through your fingers. Tears quickly ran down your cheeks. The cabin was shabby, the furniture inside covered in dust. It had been unlived in for quite some time.

“Y/n!” Your parents yelled.

The police rushed in after you and Police Officer B held you back. “Let me go!” You demanded.

“It’s dangerous.”

The police officers searched the entire cabin three times over and came up with nothing. “There is no trace of anyone having been here for years,” Police Officer A said.

Well, of course not, this wasn’t the mansion that you stayed at.

Clearly, the more time passed, the more concerned everyone looked. It was possible you heard the words “rehab” and “therapy” and “mental break” thrown around.

You had to calm down. You knew you weren’t crazy. You knew it because you wore Yangyang’s gloves.

Yangyang.

Where is he? Where were his brothers? Where was the Wei mansion?

Police Officer B released you and you browsed the area. Your parents trailed behind you. You entered one of the bedrooms, encased in dust. You sneezed and found a chest with a lock on it. The chest was engraved with the letter “W” at the center. 

You recognized the engraving. It was the same handwriting from the bedroom door in the Wei Mansion. Your bedroom door...The keys.

You remembered you still had them in your pocket. It was a long shot but you pulled them out. You placed the key inside of the lock and opened the chest.

You found seven porcelain dolls. The dolls were more sophisticated than any doll sold at the local stores. They were almost lifelike. The way their eyes and lips were drawn. Each doll bared a striking resemblance to the Wei brothers. You could see them all: Kun, Ten, Winwin, Lucas, Xiaojun, Hendery, and…

Yangyang.

The last doll was definitely Yangyang. The doll held a toy violin and wore…

Your ruby red mittens.

Fin.

_______

Epilogue.

Yangyang sat in the music room alone, holding on tightly to your red mittens.

Hendery charged into the room. His brothers trailed behind. “You fool! Why did you let her go?”

Yangyang shrugged. “I’ve had it.”

“What are you talking about?” Xiaojun demanded. “You were smitten with her. She was clearly enamored with you.”

Kun laughed. “It’s because he’s in love with her.”

All of the boys looked at their oldest brother, confused. Yangyang avoided their stares.

“You changed your mind,” Kun murmured.

Yangyang sighed, “She was not like-”

Winwin rolled his eyes. “Please do not give us the story of ‘she was not like other girls’. She seduced you and you let her go. You fell for her game. She outsmarted you.”

Yangyang snapped. “Do not test me, brother.”

Ten interjected. “Okay, okay, everyone needs to calm down...We are just curious...Why? She could have stayed here with us forever...With you forever.”

Yangyang didn’t want to speak to them. Every moment that passed, he missed you more. “She did not wear the jewels or the dresses...She left everything untouched. She did not come to us because she sought material possessions. She wanted a friend…”

Lucas laughed. “How pathetic.”

Yangyang groaned. “You lot would not understand…”

“Do not act like you are better than us, little brother,” Kun began condescendingly.

“I am not-”

“You think you’re better than us because you let a prisoner go this time, do you not? Well, let me bring you back to reality. Our spirits are confined into those tacky porcelain dolls...So what do we do to ease ourselves? We bring people into this realm to reside with us. Materialistic, selfish, and vain people. Y/n is no different from the rest of them.”

“Shut up,” Yangyang muttered.

The rest of the boys were stunned to silence but Kun heard him clearly. “Repeat that, Yangyang. You know the consequences.”

Yangyang got up and shoved your mittens in his pockets. “Shut up, Kun.”

Kun smiled and laughed. The other boys faked laughter so as not to upset Kun even more. His smile quickly faded as he punched Yangyang to the ground.

Kun gave Yangyang a harsh beating and the rest of the brothers watched. No one dared to step in and upset Kun even further. Yangyang couldn’t blame his brothers. Besides, he wanted this. He wanted to feel a pain other than the pain of missing you. 

He may have been damned for the rest of eternity but he was thankful to have met you. You proved to him that not everyone could be consumed by the deadly sins, as he and his brothers had. You were an angel that gave you a moment of compassion, of affection. And for that he would always be thankful.

_______

Come back tomorrow the third installment in our Halloween Series! :) 

[michaelarowrites]

Excerpt from Honor the Words

Akaryu Masaomi is drinking coffee when he feels the kick to his chest.

It knocks the wind out of him, causing him to drop his mug and instinctively crouch down, holding his abdomen as he tries to catch his breath.

“Akaryu-san?” says one very alarmed military analyst. Other onlookers have stopped what they’re doing in order to stare at him in concern, since by all accounts, he had collapsed for no reason. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Masaomi says, already straightening himself and forcing a smile. “I’m just fine. My apologies, I just got dizzy for a second.”

Damn it, Youji! he thinks as loudly as he can.

I’m sorry! comes a thought that isn’t his, loud and clear in his mind. I forgot!

It’s the fifth time this week!

Youji-san, I wish you would be more careful, says a new voice in his mind, familiar but still not his.

I’m sorry, Shi-chan.

Masaomi exits the military kitchen, moving towards the training yard where he knows he’ll find Yamazaki Youji.

Hey, you just left your coffee cup on the ground. A third voice appears in his mind. Go back and clean that up!

Make me, Masaomi fires back, abruptly slamming all thoughts down, doing his best to sever the unwanted connection he now shares with three other people.

The strange telepathic communication that sometimes shares thoughts and feelings between the four is especially frustrating because it’s not like the usual mind-reading Masaomi knows how to handle. From a very young age, he’s known how to compartmentalize his thoughts and keep them controlled, with mental shields and wards to prevent unwanted spies in his mind. Threats of mind-reading and mind-compulsions and otherwise dangerous psychic attacks were not that uncommon in his daily life of political intrigue in the Capital.

But this is different. It’s nothing like the magic he knew how to guard against, and it chafes against him like someone has put a collar around his neck.

That same bond pings again, and he looks to the left where the connection is coming from and sees Shiori sitting in the shade. This is enough to waylay his path, as he detours to talk to her. “Shiori, are you okay?”

“I am fine, Masaomi-san,” she says curtly. She stands up from her seat on the bench, and presses down the folds of her plain kimono. Shiori always did like to dress in traditional clothes, as was common in the Capital and in the main Estates, but once she wore silks and it pains him now to see her so low. She looks at him coolly, as if sensing his thoughts (which, all things considered, she might have) and then says, “You do not need to spare any thoughts toward my well-being.”

“Shiori,” Masaomi winces. “You can’t be like this forever.”

“Like what, Masaomi-san?”

“Mad at me. I’ve apologized, and you’re just being stubborn. I thought we were friends.”

“We were friends, Masaomi-san, and then left me to die,” Shiori says, smiling sweetly. “That sent a very clear message about the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually kill you,” Masaomi says, but he knows it sounds hollow. “At any rate, this absurd higher ground is ridiculous. You’d have done the same.”

And yet, strangely, I didn’t.

He hears her thought loud and clear, and she looks mortified once she realizes what she’s communicated. “Shiori,” he starts, his voice softer this time.

“Excuse me, Masaomi-san. I have business elsewhere.”

It’s a lie, and their new bond means he knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t stop her as she walks away.

*

Masaomi finds Youji in the training yard, talking to the pretty gumiho woman he’s made friends with over the past couple of weeks.

“—stop dodging, how are we supposed to have a proper fake battle if you keep avoiding hits?”

“Sorry, Mi-chan, I guess I’m squeamish about being hit.”

“Uh huh. Oh look, your rich boyfriend is here.” Sakurano Michiru looks over at Masaomi and smiles. “Hello, rich boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Youji says.

“And I’m not that rich anymore, considering the other grand dragons froze my accounts,” Masaomi says.

“So you keep saying, but I’m not sure I believe you,” Michiru says, talking to Youji. “Although, you were making out with Corporal Toma last night. Get any?”

“He left early,” Youji says.

“He always does. I could’ve warned you. That man’s a tease.”

“I didn’t mind. It was an honor to be teased,” Youji says with a grin. Masaomi manages to hide his scowl but the irritation is probably communicated anyway.

Oh, so that’s where you were last night, Masaomi thinks, despite himself.

I was invited for drinks. You could’ve come along.

I wasn’t invited for drinks.

Out of the three of them—no, out of the four of them—Youji is the only one who is settling in nicely with the Magpies. Even Hinami seems irritated at how easily Youji is fitting in with the ranks. Just looking at the two of them, Youji would be the one people might think has been here for years, and Hinami the newcomer.

Then I’ll invite you next time, Youji thinks.

I don’t want to be invited, Masaomi snaps back, still irritated.

“See, and now you two are staring at each other intensely, which is a thing you two do a lot, and is certainly giving the impression to everyone on base that you guys are madly in love with each other,” Michiru says conversationally. Youji looks like he’s going to protest again, but Michiru just says, “I’m going to spare you the lie, which I’m sure will be very believable and convincing, because I have to go. I got a summons.” She waves her wrist, where the gold Cicada indicates a message received. “Be good, boys. Don’t do anything scandalous without me.”

“Lovely woman,” Masaomi says as she leaves, admiring the movement of her hips as she walks away.

“You’re staring.”

“That is the confident walk of a woman who clearly expected me to stare. It would have been impolite not to comply.”

“Uh huh. Well, behave. I like Mi-chan, and she would eat you alive. That was her kick earlier.”

Masaomi rubs his stomach, still convinced he can feel the dull ache. “Duly noted. You said you were going to be more careful in training sessions.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” Youji says. Hinami’s sparring sessions aren’t as intense, and she rarely gets injured. So far, it’s only Youji who keeps sending these inconvenient flares of pain through their unasked-for bond.

“Apologize to Shiori,” Masaomi says coldly. “She’s a court lady, and isn’t used to pain.”

“I did apologize to Shi-chan,” Youji says, his voice mild. “She’s very forgiving.”

Masaomi scowls, since there’s no way Youji doesn’t know what Masaomi and Shiori were talking about five minutes ago. “It’s all a front. Her grudges could freeze mountains.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He likes harping at Youji, because Youji never seems to mind. But after his conversation with Shiori, he can’t help but be keenly aware that Youji is the only one on this base who doesn’t treat Masaomi like he’s an evil villain. Abruptly, he asks, “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“For what?” Youji says, perplexed.

“For—you know. Leaving you to die, and what not.” Youji had already been shot by the humans. Masaomi left him thinking he was dead, or near-death.

“I had no expectations that you wouldn’t.”

“Ouch,” Masaomi says, surprised by the genuine hurt he feels at that statement. But then, he’d already betrayed Youji once before, so of course Youji would have expected that he’d do it again. It’s completely absurd that he feels hurt, when clearly Youji was right not to expect better of him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Youji says, frowning quizzically. His thick eyebrows move like silkworms on his face, and it actually makes him look charming.

“No?”

“I meant—I didn’t expect you to stick around. I didn’t expect anyone to stick around. Why would you have? We just met each other. You didn’t owe me anything.”

It’s everything Masaomi has been telling himself these past couple of weeks—I had every right to leave them! I owed them nothing!—but hearing Youji say it like that just sounds bare and false. “Well. It’s unlikely I’ll do it again.”

Masaomi hates how awkward that sounds. Youji just grins at him and says, “So were you worried when I didn’t come back to our room last night?”

“I wasn’t worried,” Masaomi says, bristling. “You’re my jailer, not my roommate.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

The fact that they’re sharing a military bunk is something that still chafes, because Masaomi has never shared living quarters with anyone. Much less a room that’s little better than a closet. But when they’d first arrived on base, Hinami had said, “I don’t trust you not to run away.”

“There’s nothing you could do to stop me,” Masaomi had said. But their bond was brand new at that point, and he didn’t know how to stop himself from automatically thinking, Youji would probably stop me from leaving. That thought had, quite embarrassingly, been transmitted to the other three. Youji had looked flattered, Shiori had looked coolly intrigued, and Hinami had said, “Good, then Yamazaki will room with you and stop you from leaving.”

The fact that Masaomi is sure that Youji could stop him from leaving—or at the very least, would be able to track him down and bring him back, if he did leave—upsets him more than the fact that he now has to share a room. Not that he plans on leaving, (he’s learned from that mistake), but he’d like the option.

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to leave so much if you made more friends,” Youji says helpfully.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t help it, you’re broadcasting your thoughts so loudly,” Youji says, his voice abashed.

“I am not. I have complete control over my thoughts. This is ridiculous. Call the divine Avatar and tell her to stop this stupid bond thing. I refuse to be a divine champion if I have to keep sharing my thoughts with the three of you.”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know how to summon her. She just shows up. I’m not sure why you keep thinking I have special access to Madhuri anyway.”

“Probably because you call her Madhuri like she’s a childhood friend and not a divine Avatar,” Masaomi says. He’s only known this man for three weeks, and he’s still not sure if Youji is purposefully evasive or if he’s genuinely bad at understanding subtext. Because it has certainly occurred to Masaomi (and Shiori, he’s sure) that Youji is the one whom Madhuri chose to rescue Masaomi from prison. Of the four of them, Youji is the only one Madhuri has talked to without the presence of the others. Masaomi doesn’t believe for a second that Youji is too dim to understand that makes him different from the rest of them.

“What else am I supposed to call her? She didn’t give a family name,” Youji says, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Masaomi gives up.

“If she shows up again, tell her to remove the bond,” Masaomi says, turning to leave. “Or I’m not helping anymore.”

[crimsonthehobo]

Battle Scars - (1/?)

[A/N:] Haven’t been on this account in months, am quite sleep-deprived and I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Well, lunch now apparently. So before I lose the minimal courage I got, I’ll just drop this off here and hope it works! Don’t know when I might write the next part, might even not. Who knows. Mind’s wonky. This has been in my files for a long while, wrote it back when Guy Sebastian’s song Battle Scars got stuck in my head. Figured I might as well let it stop collecting dust. Also, considering I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how to properly tag. 

If there’s tags I should put, ESPECIALLY if they’re tw tags, please do tell me. [Summary:] The child of a general, the only survivor of a (frankly) unethical experiment, and the old college roommate of one Alexandra Danvers. Somehow all three of those things correlate with one another, not that you can remember at this point. You just want to live in the forest, forgetting the reasons for the scars that litter your body. [Warning(s):] Reader’s thoughts get... dark. Somewhat. More depressing, I think. Some people horrifically mutate too, so there’s that. Again, if there should be warnings in the tags or here that I should put but didn’t, do tell me. What else... uh, this is approximately 11k words long? Maybe that deserves a warning all to itself. Is there a tag that explains “possibly turns you into a modern-day cave person living in forests to steal from humans and wrestle bears”? Possibly a spoiler, but hey, at least it means you read warnings, so congrats!

The first time you felt like you’d failed, was when you had to leave the first love of your life. It was the only scar that had no physical counterpart, but you’d felt the mind-numbing pain, nonetheless.

“You watch yourself, alright? I won’t be around to keep your head screwed on for you!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You rolled your eyes, pointedly keeping your focus on shoving the remaining belongings you had into your duffle. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d break.

Silence fell over the room at your half-hearted response, the lack of noise almost making you regret not saying anything more in reply. And then…

“Do… Do you really have to go?”

‘Damn it.’

Alex’s words were shaky, barely louder than a whisper. The strained tinge in her voice urged you to look up from zipping up your bag, glancing over at the source.

Seated on your bed with her legs over the side, she sat hunched over as one of her legs anxiously shook up and down against the edge. Her hands were curled into fists between her knees, knuckles white as her forearms tensed from their placement on her thighs.

She looked so… small. Nervous. It wasn’t like her.

She was supposed to be Alex Danvers. A stubborn redhead that was tough-as-nails and was always up for drinking you under the table any day!

But you couldn’t blame her for not being herself. She was heartbroken, and so were you.

Though, it made you feel guilty that it was because of you that she looked so weak.

No, “weak” wasn’t the word.

Vulnerable…

Vulnerable seemed more fitting.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked away, but it didn’t last for long. You felt her tap your jaw; once, twice, then a third time. For you two, it was a universal sign that you needed to listen. That what would be said was important.

It was an action that would only take effect if done by the other, and no one else.

It could calm either of you from rage, or even help you fight the haze of drunkenness to be in some semblance of sober.

It was special. Meaningful.

Hence why your automatic reaction was to turn, to obey the silent request to face her.

“You’ll stay in touch, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

Now you? You were weak. While the owner of your heart was devastated right in front of you, all you could offer for comfort was an unconvincing smile and a useless apology.

Her throat bobbed as she attempted to swallow back a sob, but the teary shine in her eyes gave her away.

Another surge of guilt struck your heart and made you avert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, as long as they were not on her.

‘Look at what you’ve done.’

It was your fault. She didn’t even know why you were leaving so suddenly.

Your father had found out of your attraction to her, and needless to say, he didn’t take it lightly. A few strings pulled later, and you were being sent away to be “straightened out.” The thought almost made scoff during that particular conversation in his study, but you accepted the consequences anyway.

You should’ve been better.

You should’ve done better.

You didn’t protect her well enough.

The fault was none but yours… and the knife you felt in your heart would remind you for a long while to come.

~~~

 The second time you felt like you’d failed, happened two years after that moment in your college dorm room.

It took months for that scar to start to heal, but you knew it would take years before it would even begin to fade.

You’d tried to keep in contact, but you had your life to live and so did she. Not to mention the day your father heard of the two of you still communicating, he pulled more strings to cut you off. It was too late, anyway. You’d already stopped talking by then.

But whether the silence was for the better or worse was up for debate.

Just the thought of her made your heart lurch, and actually interacting with her never failed to re-open that scar anew. The space, however agonizing, let the wound heal.

Yet that very same space was what let you drown yourself into your current occupation. In order to compensate for the agony, you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into your work. Though at this point, you were questioning if you should even call it that.

Unknown to her, a month into your time in the military, a general offered you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You found it hard to believe. You weren’t stupid, you could read between the lines. You knew “opportunity” also meant “ulterior motive.”

He didn’t prove you wrong.

When you walked into the conference room you’d been instructed to enter, your eyes immediately fell to the only individual inside.

General Lane.

You knew three things about him. One, he had been your father’s best friend. Two, he had a palpable dislike for any and all alien life. Specifically, Superman. Three, whenever he began to rant, just smile, and nod.

It was only the two of you there, yet you couldn’t seem to find it in you to focus. Not after he uttered the words “military program.”

You already knew this wouldn’t end well.

Though you remained silent, your eyes having glazed over as the static in your ears prevented his words from reaching your brain, he continued to speak. You only managed to catch bits and pieces, but you got the gist.

They wanted to conduct an experiment and were looking for lab rats. They wanted you to be one.

You weren’t surprised they asked. To everyone else’s knowledge, you had no one left in your life but you. Your father made sure any links between you and Alex were cleanly severed, meaning any history between you two had been cleared. You had no family other than your parents, your mother having passed while you were still in your single digits, while your father had done the same just a week before this very meeting.

‘Tch… no love lost there.’

But, considering he was a respected figure and a close friend of the very same general right in front of you, you had to at least act as if his death affected you. Your father had always been one for appearances, so no one outside of the two of you (and Alex) knew just how estranged you’d been from the other. Because of this, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what way you view it), people took your indifferent poker face to be one of grief.

General Lane wanted to capitalize on that. On you.

You had military blood in you (because apparently that meant you were exactly like your father), you had a “reason” to go missing (grief, hah), and—as far as he was concerned—you had no close relations that would worry should you ever disappear (you… couldn’t really think of a quip to internalize there). You seemed like the perfect guinea pig.

“…We need heroes around here. Human heroes. Not those monsters who could fall to their instincts at the drop of a hat, or at the touch of some space rock—”

Again, it came with no surprise to you that extra-terrestrials were the main focus of said experiment.

You wanted to say no. Fuck, did you want to say no. You wanted no part in this blind hatred. But then…

“—They’re never here when we actually need them. A group of freaks like him are planning to go after National City to lure him out, and where is Superman? Frolicking off in space! The President had an entire clandestine organization made exactly for roach-connected situations like this, yet they don’t even know—”

Your blood ran cold, your hearing suddenly becoming clear as your eyes bore into his.

National City.

Of all the places, they had to go there. You didn’t give it a second thought. You didn’t have to.

“I’ll do it.”

.

.

.

You had no idea what CADMUS was, just that they were collaborating with the U.S. Military to make you and forty-nine others into the ones that would “exterminate the roaches infesting the planet.”

Sounded more like “short-sighted discrimination with an unhealthy dash of xenophobia” than “rational thought for the human race” to you; but as long as you could protect Alex, you didn’t care how much of the mindless drivel you had to sit through.

You didn’t count how many times you found yourself strapped to a metal bed, or how many times you found a needle being stuck into you. Rather, you couldn’t. More than half the time, whatever they put into your bloodstream always made you feel woozy. Enough to make you practically perpetually confused.

Any recollection of your experiences during the experimentation were impossible to stir, and after seeing that one woman’s all-too-amused smirk a few too many times, you were convinced that it had been on purpose.

Before you knew it, another month had passed. Not that you would’ve realized it yourself. Your best guess would’ve been a week, if it weren’t for the woman General Lane had assigned to you telling you otherwise.

She was about your age, maybe a month or so younger. Lucia was her name if you remembered correctly. She’d been left by him to keep an eye on you, or to “keep you sane” as she worded so eloquently.

She was the first person you saw the moment you could properly think again. Her calming presence was a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, everything felt… nice.

Until a soldier barged through the door of your allocated resting area, screaming about an attack.

Time seemed to blur once again, and the next thing you knew, you were in the middle of a war zone. A mile or two from some desert base in the middle of nowhere.

Only you and the rest of the fifty who had been volunteered for the Eradication Program had been deployed. You wished you hadn’t been. The others were bloodthirsty, tearing through the opposition the moment they were ordered to. You, however, chose to take a step back and analyse the enemy.

Most of the “opposing force” looked to be human, not alien. None of them seemed hostile, either. Well… until they were provoked, that is. The human-like members of their group—who you’re sure actually were human—were being protected by their definitely-alien comrades, clearly not trained for combat or any attack whatsoever. In fact, if their attire was anything to go by, they all worked in what could be considered “support” occupations. Engineers, researchers, varying members of medical staff… not one of them appeared to be soldiers.

What was General Lane not telling you?

Were you really protecting National City?

…Were you even in National City?

You felt your comms crackle in your ears, said general’s voice screeching, “What the HELL are you doing?! Move your ass, Six!”

Right. Soldier Six, your call sign. Simply because you were the sixth one to wake up.

How original.

You huffed, and in retaliation to the general’s orders, you tore the device out of your ear and threw it as far as you could over your shoulder.

Because frankly, you didn’t want to. Not when you’d been pit against wrongly identified “hostiles.”

Despite your stubbornness to keep your feet rooted to your spot, soon enough, you didn’t have the privilege of choosing to abstain.

The other “volunteers”—all forty-nine of them—began to stop and convulse. Their flesh rippled beneath their skin, muscles expanding and contracting in an obscene manner.

Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.          

Each and every one of them mutated appallingly right before your very eyes, all of them attaining a different level of horrendous to another. Some grew limbs, some lost them. Others had extra eyes while a handful had one left or none at all. A few had their nails elongate into claws, others had a tailbone that whipped its way through the air. More than half had lost the colours of their irises—no, not just the colour. The pupils and irises themselves disappeared completely. It was a horrific spectacle to behold.

To call these things a shell of their former selves, would be insulting to the humans they used to be.

Was this going to happen to you?

You didn’t have much time for your thoughts. The one thing that didn’t change was the sheer amount of bloodthirst coursing through their veins. With the supposedly villainous aliens already exhausted, they wouldn’t last a second round against the other volunteer—

‘…No,’ You shook your head, fists clenched tight, ‘Those aren’t the volunteers anymore.’

From what you could see, those men and women died the moment the experiments started. All you could do for them, was help them rest in peace.

And you doubt they’d be getting any rest with their bodies wreaking havoc as these beasts.

Using the enhanced abilities you shared with the monstrosities, you slowly but surely took them out one by one.

They fought like animals.

Yet no matter how many times they slashed at your body, no matter how many times they lunged for your head, nor how many times they made you bleed, you continued to end every single one of them. You didn’t want any of them to suffer longer than they already have.

As with most things nowadays, in your eyes, the details were nothing but a blur. Everything felt… vague. Flashes of claws, bones, and agonizing pain run through your mind, yet no instance remained distinct for more than a second.

…Was this a symptom? Of the experiment, or the transformation?

Fear of the truth made you falter, and a skeletal tail surging straight through your right thigh forced your focus to return. But then so too would the questions, along with the subsequent terror, until another wound started the cycle another time. Again and again, until after what felt like an eternity, the last of them finally fell with an inhuman screech. It was done. But at what cost?

You surveyed your battleground, heart heavy and clenched in an icy grip. You couldn’t protect them, save them. Any of them.

A mighty hack then reverberated through the painfully silent air and caused you to flinch. Your head snapped up to turn to its direction, your feet already making their way over. You’d thoughtlessly skidded onto your knees, the coin-flip reaction bringing you to the survivor’s side. It was an alien.

Your eyes were wide in alarm, hands flittering around as your mind buzzed at what to do. There were so many injuries. Far too many for him to survive, alien or no. Your eyes met his, and your breath hitched in surprise. His irises didn’t scream anger or disgust like you expected. Instead, they were shining in wonder so innocent, it was almost childlike.

“You… Your body… did not… revolt?” the dying male grinned, placing a hand in yours to grip it in glee, “M-Miracle! It… I-It is m-miracle!”

For a moment, you were confused. Until you followed his gaze and watched as your body slowly stitched itself back together. One shallow cut in particular caught your attention, the damage slowly disappearing before your very eyes, leaving not a single blemish on your skin. You’d been so focused on fighting, that you didn’t even stop and wonder how you were still alive. After this day, there may not even be a single scar found.

At another bloody cough, newfound healing abilities were far from the forefront of your mind. Your vision blurred with tears, a sob escaping without your control. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

“Sorry…” You hadn’t spoken in so long, your voice harsh and throat sore, “I- I’m so sorry.”

He weakly shook his head, “B-Blame… not… on y-you. Deceived. We… We all… were…”

“W-What?”

With a wince, he forced his other arm to point to one of his fallen allies, a human researcher about a meter or so north of you.

“Necklace… take…” the light in his eyes was beginning to die, you could see it and he could feel it. Forcing a shaky smile, he murmured in his broken English, “Promise… y-you… not feel… guilty?”

“I…”

You knew you’d feel guilty.

You should, shouldn’t you? This was all your fault! You were careless and made a mistake once again. You didn’t see through the veil, you weren’t smart enough. You couldn’t stop the others, you weren’t quick enough.

You weren’t enough.

And just like before, people suffered because of it.

But… although he was on his last seconds of life, he looked at you so brightly. He was still so hopeful. How could you break such a wonderous being in his last moments?

You shook your head ‘no,’ lying, knowing this would be a wound that would last a long time to come. From the huff he gave, you felt like he knew that too.

Nonetheless, he coughed out, “P-Promise?”

You swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of hot tears cascading down your cheeks. With another lurch from your heavy heart, you gave him a nod and a shaky smile of your own, “I promise.”

His smile grew a fraction wider, “P… Pro… mise…”

His last breath left him, leaving the hand still in yours to fall, limp.

You were wrong earlier, there was a scar left behind.

The laceration you’d received from foolishly grabbing onto a tail, the one injury that had been obscured from your sight by his hold, had left a mark. You knew what it would be. A memento, of another time you’d failed. Of the first time your naivety took the life of another. You let a sob escape your control.

And another…

And another…

For hours you stayed on the blood-soaked sand, the coarse particles dyed red with the proof of the violent loss of life. By the time you heard a chopper land meters away to analyse the aftermath, your tears had long since dried and the last remnants of your rampant emotions were now trapped deep within, leaving only your now-signature emotionless mask. Thankfully, they understood enough that your mind was stuck elsewhere and didn’t bother to get a mission report out of you.

They did, however, cheer at the averted “crisis.”

All except Lucia. It was a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless. Rather than cheering, she sat next to you, a consoling hand on your shoulder as she murmured apologies for wrongs not her own.

For a brief moment, you wondered why she was here. What her role was in all of this mess, how she got caught up in it…

But when the others’ voices drowned out Lucia’s and all you could hear was their excitement and joy, your thoughts were immediately overrun by pure rage. Your stare morphed into a glare as your eyes kept themselves glued to the carnage below, hand clutching the unseen necklace concealed by your dog tags.

You were the only one who survived.

You were the only success.

You were now a monster.

 ~~~

 It was two years later after that, that the third occurrence happened.

Although you held a great amount of distrust for the U.S. Military, you never left their command. Foolishly, you stayed and did whatever they said. You went to where they told you you’d been needed. You fought who they told you to fight. You killed who they told you to kill.

All because of your own fear.

What if you were already transforming? What if your body was just one second away from fighting whatever gave you your powers? What if, the moment you left… you went berserk?

One “what if” after another festered in your mind, leading to you to forcibly suppress your own self and play their perfect little soldier, if only to keep your own body at bay should it ever run amok.

After all, they created you. The only ones who would know how to stop you would be them, right?

Besides, what would you even do once you left? They’d written the end of your life for you the moment you agreed to be a lab experiment.

Who would you have turned to?

Alex?

You scoffed at the thought. You said “yes” to help protect her, not drag her into the damn problem.

For a year and a half, you’d justified your stay with those thoughts, and for more than half of that time you let yourself be used as a mere weapon. It took you a year until you accepted the truth of your situation, and it wasn’t until roughly three months prior to your third failure that you finally let yourself see reason.

 .

.

.

 You sat up on your bunk, eyes on your hands, staring at blood that none but you could see. Sweat dripped from your brow, faint screams echoing in your eardrums, audible just beneath the vigorous beating of your heart.

‘I can’t keep this up…’ You released a shuddering breath, ‘How long will I have to keep this up?!’

Ever since that day in the desert, your nights were never peaceful, your sleep never serene. You’d long since gotten used to the endless screams of terror, the unending stream of unfamiliar faces contorting in woe. But what you hadn’t prepared for—what you never thought you’d ever need to prepare for—was for those faces to suddenly become familiar.

Alex had been petrified, the alien terrified, and Lucia… Lucia lay on the bloodied, black dirt, prone. Her face perpetually mortified. Even after you lurched forward in your bed and had left the realm of dreams, their suffering still danced in the shadows of your surroundings, the remnants of their frightened faces flashing in your eyes like some ghastly slideshow.

Their misery was because of you. You’d stumbled too deep into the haze, and by the time you came out, you had become what you feared the most. The cause of their torment.

‘What am I doing with my life?’

It was on that night that you truly accepted the reality of your situation. You had let your mind wander and, without realizing, let yourself function on autopilot for too long. It wasn’t until now, on this night—when you were terrorized by their screams—that you accepted that fact. But you felt it was already too late.

By mindlessly putting your life on the line, you had saved hundreds of lives—or so you were told. Yet for every life you saved, you knew there had been at least one you’d taken in return.

Your comrades rejoiced at your feats, and even a few of the higher-ups praised your work.

And yet…

Why did you feel nothing? Why did you feel out of place?

Why did you feel like you were doing something you weren’t meant to?

You’d been confused, very much so. For over a year, in fact. Your body felt ironically alien. Different. As if you’d been sleepwalking the past two years. Your memories, too, felt foreign. They were more like dreams than anything else.

No… “dream” was far too nice of a word.

Nightmare—like vulnerable—seemed more fitting.

Your recollection of the past two years was a mess. There were only a handful of distinct memories you could recall, and all were of them. Alex… the alien… and Lucia. The rest were all a hazy blur, a fever dream that kept you jumping from one horrific scene to another.

You didn’t even know who you’d been fighting the entire time. No one ever gave you a clear picture, only stating where you were needed and what had to be done. You vaguely remember a mix of terrified faces, both alien and human. What did they even do wrong?

Did they even do wrong?

It was then that reality truly sunk in. You already knew that you were a weapon, one for them to use however and whenever they saw fit. What was hardest to swallow was the fact that the blood you’d let yourself spill—blood you could’ve chosen not to spill—could very well have been those of innocents.

You buried your face into your knees, fingers threading through your hair and gripping your pounding skull. You felt your nails dig into your scalp.

Luckily for your tattered mental state, Lucia had been there to help anchor you back to reality.

She murmured lowly as she gently pried your fingers from your head, and though her words went through one ear and out the other, her voice alone soothed you. You found that she knew exactly what to do, and even let you bury your face into her shoulder as she cooed at you softly, her hands tenderly drawing calming patterns on your back.

You’d been so happy that she was there. It wasn’t until hours later, after both of you had passed out in emotional exhaustion, that you woke up and realized that she had always been there. You’d just been too stuck in your own mind to see her.

When she woke up, her eyes meeting yours, neither of you spoke a word. Yet you both knew your dynamic had shifted, the air between you different. It simply went unsaid.

It didn’t go unseen, however. Everyone knew how dangerous you were, and after a rookie’s idiotic mistake, knew how equally dangerous it was to make Lucia unhappy in any way.

(His shoulder wouldn’t shove into others the same way again, nor would his ego inflate with the chasm you’d left.)

Stupidly, despite the revelations of that night—perhaps even because of said revelations—you continued living under the government’s employ.

In your mind, it was no longer just for your fear, it was also for her sake. If you left, you knew she would do whatever it took to stay by your side, regardless of the danger. Even if you were to be hunted, experimented, or executed, she would stay. And none of those fates were any you would allow to befall her.

No matter the gruesome sights that looped in your mind like a film at some grisly theatre, you jumped into the fray again, and again, and again. Still as reckless. Still as unrelenting. Still as guilty.

Not a single complaint ever left your lips. You felt you deserved it. But more importantly, you felt you were protecting her.

She didn’t agree.

The topic had been the spark of many arguments between the two of you, one such case being…

“You can’t keep doing this—you can’t keep living like this!”

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

You stayed silent, sat on your bed in your designated quarters. Your eyes were trained on her pacing form as you fiddled with the fresh bandages on your arms, replies only said in mind.

At this point, this scene was common. You’d gotten injured, she’d gotten frustrated, and you had the decency to listen. You knew Lucia wasn’t mad at you. Annoyed? Maybe. But not mad. Her anger was always directed at the same people, and never to you. She just hated to see you hurt.

‘Unfortunately, it’s an occupational haza—'

“—And don’t you say it’s an occupational hazard!”

Or… not?

Lucia stopped in her tracks, eyes boring into your own, “There are always ways to complete your missions without you ending up a bloody mess, but they don’t care about that, do they? As long as the mission is completed as soon as possible, they don’t give a damn. What if you never healed? What if you actually found something that would actually get you killed?” 

You had no response for that.

“They don’t even know of the full extent of your powers—none of us do! They started sending you out the day after that desert! Yet here we are again… I don’t understand why we don’t just leave.”

You opened your mouth to speak for the first time, to remind her of the dangers of such a plan just as you always had in the past, when you felt your hairs stand on end. Someone was eavesdropping. Your glare flashed to the door, spotting an eye widen at your stare before rushing off. You’d rush after them, but you knew nothing could be done without arousing suspicion. This base was full soldiers, and thus witnesses. Unfortunately, it was also full of snitches.

You stood abruptly, causing Lucia to jerk in surprise. Her brow furrowed when she spotted the grim frown you now wore.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

She could only blink in shock, “Now?”

“Now.”

The conversation would’ve been seen as treason. Or, at best, the start of it. You needed to run.

She followed your unwavering stare to the door, the sight of its slight opening making the cogs in her mind connect the dots. Someone had heard, and were no doubt reporting you. Her shock melted into determination, “I’ve already got a bag of necessities packed in case of an emergency escape. Let’s go.”

Next thing you knew, you were both dashing through corridors, unfamiliar alarms blaring the moment you had retrieved her bag. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had prepared for this eventuality.

Squad after squad were sent after you both, all made up of people you’d seen as comrades and allies not even an hour before. Any fondness you held for each of them, however, immediately dissipated the moment they aimed a gun even a meter in Lucia’s direction. With a growl, you tore through every single one of them, unabashed by their betrayed yells so long as her safety was assured.

But you’d made a mistake. You were focused too much on those aiming for her, that you forgot there were others targeting yourself. Lucia didn’t. Which is why she spotted the soldier pulling out a weapon from a case before you did.

It looked like a gun, but she knew it was different. She could feel that it was. When they overlooked her completely and aimed for you, she knew she was right. Without a second thought, she shoved you out of the way, just as the soldier pulled the trigger.

A bang echoed in your ears, then a pained scream and a thud.

Your heart dropped. She’d pushed you away. Because of her, the bullet only grazed your torso… before tearing straight through her own.

You fell to your knees, not sparing a glance away from Lucia even as you put a bullet straight through the head of the soldier responsible.

“You IDIOT! Why would you do that?! You know I would’ve survived it!”

Your eyes were panicked, breathing growing more erratic by the second as you attempted to staunch the blood flowing from her wound. There was so much blood… why was there so much blood?!

“No…” she shook her head, “You… You wouldn’t’ve. N-Not… Not this one.”

You could hear footsteps and voices growing closer. You ignored them.

“I always survive, it’s my THING!” You gritted your teeth, ignoring the tears leaving tracks down your cheeks, “Stop talking, would you?! You need all your damn energy!”

Lucia simply smiled, even as more of the coppery liquid slid down the side of her mouth, “Promise me… promise me you w-won’t blame yourself f-for this?”

Déjà vu. Taunting, agonizing, déjà vu.

“I… I…” more tears, and a sob. What ever happened to control? “…I can’t.”

Her smile didn’t waver, as if she expected your response. Instead, she lifted a hand to your cheek, thumb gently wiping a tear away, “I know what you’re thinking, and I know it’s hard f-for you t-to think otherwise, love… but this isn’t your fault. I chose to do this. Y-You couldn’t’ve done anything to stop me.”

“…” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling more blood seep through your fingers.

Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop?!

“C’mon, love. P-Please, look at me?”

“…”

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see her so accepting of her fate.

Yet you couldn’t help the confused furrow of your brows at her tapping your jaw, your focus immediately swivelling to her. Not on instinct, but in question, confusion, and slight betrayal. You’d never regretted telling her of your first love, of admitting that there were some things you could never forget. Until now.

“Th-There you are. I know it hurts, but you have t-to p-promise me, then you need to leave me.”

The familiar action had increased your pain tenfold, but her words had the panic in your eyes grow more intense, blood freezing in your veins.

‘No. NO. NononoNO—’ You looked away as you felt your body quake, the chill caused by her words making your limbs feel like lead, ‘Not you… anybody but you!’

You felt her tap your jaw again, but you didn’t look to her, preferring to stubbornly keep your eyes on your hands. You wouldn’t- You couldn’t.

“Please…” Lucia’s voice sounded so small, distant. Just like with the alien, you knew she was on her last breaths, and so did she, “L-Listen to me… they… now want you… gone. I-I know… it’s a lot to ask, but you have to leave me. Please. T-That bullet was meant f-for you—”

You couldn’t help but snap, “What bullet isn’t when I’m out on the field?!”

“N-No, love. T-They made it for you. T-To kill you…” she weakly shook her head, “I… I… s-saw it… wasn’t… normal.”

“Shit—SHIT! Why can’t I stop the god damn bleeding?!”

You hated that there were so many things that you couldn’t do. Why can’t you just do something—anything—right for once?!

As always, she knew where your mind was headed, “N-No matter… how little… y-you… think of yourself… I know y-you were meant… to be amazing. F-From the moment I… I saw you… I knew you’d be… a… a-a hero.”

“What kind of fucking hero can’t even save the person she loves?!” head hung low, you pulled your hands away from her wound, reluctantly accepting that it was futile, “What kind of useless hero am I?”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the other draping itself across her stomach. You shifted yourself closer, cautiously embracing the dying woman. Apology after apology left your mouth, your tears dripped down from your cheeks only to mix with her own.

“It’s not… your… fau…” her hand, now much weaker than it had been earlier, fell limply onto the arm you’d placed on her stomach. When her fingers lightly squeezed your forearm, you knew what she expected. You released your grip on her hip, linking your hand with hers, making her chuckle faintly, “I-It… theirs… y-y’hear me? N-Never fo… forget… ‘s wasn’t… fault…”

“I… I won’t…”

You knew you’d never forget this day… just as how you’d never forget where the fault would forever lay in your mind.

“L… Love you…” her eyes were fluttering shut, and at the tug of her hand, you knew what she wanted.

You leaned closer, your lips pressing on hers for the final time. Only a second later did her last breath leave her lungs, and with it, one more piece of your fragile heart.

You could only stare, hoping that she would open her eyes and fill the deafening silence. But she didn’t, and you had to accept that she never would. When your mind finally opened itself to the rest of the world, you could hear the soldiers. Their orders for you to back down… or, more specifically, his.

General Lane.

When you saw a glimpse of his face, everything turned red and screams replaced the buzzing in your ears. You could never remember much past their anguish.

All you knew was the gash on your torso healed, but the mark never faded.

~~~

 Six months passed, and sleep was still a stranger. So were your mind and memories, but what else was new?

You had no idea where you were, you never did more than half the time. More often than not, you’d find yourself lost in thought, staring off at nothing as your finger lightly traced the scar hidden beneath your shirt. Sometimes you’d snap out of it, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar area. Occasionally, you’d stop yourself mid-step as you were walking or crossing the street.

Either way, people would be staring at you like you were insane. You couldn’t blame them, you felt like you were. That was fine, you never stayed in one area for long anyway.

For the past couple of months you’d been hopping from place to place, lingering only for three days at most. You didn’t have to do much to conceal your identity, considering the government already got rid of it for you. You did get yourself a new name, though.

Corazon.

Wasn’t exactly subtle to you, but it was better than Soldier Six and at least you could remember it.

How could you not, when your mistakes were always made by your soft heart?

You only wished that you had the ability to rid yourself of your emotions, then at least living would be somewhat bearable. You hated that even the smallest things could trigger your beating heart. It could’ve been a hair colour, a laugh, or just an oblivious pair holding hands, your heart wouldn’t fail to work with your fractured memories and remind you of what you’d lost.

You wished you could split the two, or at least rid yourself of one… maybe even both. You couldn’t think without feeling, nor feel without thinking. If you had no way to feel, no way to have a conscious thought, or both, then living a seemingly deathless life would be bearable. Sure, that sort of life isn’t one others would say is worth living, but neither is the one you are now.

The only thing keeping you away from finding a way to have that ‘plan’ to come into fruition, was the fact that—as far as you know—only the government could ‘help.’

You never wanted to make contact with those bastards again.

“Wha- HEY!”

At the indignant yell, you blinked yourself out of your stupor. Confused, you looked around.

You’d wandered into an alley. Huh.

Hearing a groan, you glanced down, spotting a boy who couldn’t’ve been any older than mid-teens. He was sat on the concrete, rubbing his forehead, having presumably fallen after colliding with you.

Then, you heard yelling.

You looked up and saw a group of men pointing and yelling unintelligibly at the boy at your feet. He sprang up and made a move to exit, only for your hand on his shoulder to stop him in his tracks. You felt his eyes on you, but yours never left the group stomping closer as they brandished their makeshift weapons in a supposedly threatening manner.

Hammers, nails in bats, metal pipes… generic, stereotypical, bad guy weapons. You saw a gun or two poking out from the waistbands of their pants, yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When they stopped in front of you, they even puffed out their chests to make themselves look bigger. One of them stepped forward and grumbled with a voice made forcibly gruff, “You with this brat?”

“Pff,” You only shook your head in mirth. You’d heard of people like this in movies, but you never knew they actually existed.

His lips curled up into a snarl, “What’s so funny.”

“…” You smiled, tilted your head in faux innocence, and admitted clearly, “You.”

Predictably, your response infuriated him, and he launched himself towards you to attack.

Within a minute, him and his group were all unconscious, weapons—including their guns—left splintered and bent on the damp ground.

You grumbled, “Idiots.”

With another roll of your eyes, you spun on your heels and moved to leave the scene… only to face an overexcited fourteen-year-old.

“That was AWESOME!”

“!”

You blinked. You’d forgotten he was there. You watched, an eyebrow raised as he asked question after question, each going through one ear and out the other. Your mind didn’t register a single one, but from the rapid rate the words seemed to leave his lips, the number seemed endless.

Didn’t he need to breathe?

It was here that the boy lurched to a stop, his lungs lacking the air required to allow speech. You only blinked when he took in just a little too much oxygen. His overdramatic wheezing caused you to smirk and huff in mild amusement. His eyes darted to you at the noise, focusing on your mirth as he smacked a fist against his chest in an effort to abate his hacking.

“You…” he coughed again, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You only offered a shrug in response. Considering past experience, human interaction wasn’t something you necessarily searched for. Generally, they all ended up morphing into some form of confrontation for you—or loss, but that was a thought hurriedly buried in the deepest recesses of your mind.

The boy wasn’t deterred by your silence. Instead, he seemed even more determined to fill the space with his own words. Again, most of them generally went through one ear and out the other.

“—I’m Lucas!”

Wait. Why was the kid telling you their name?

You still didn’t reply, but ‘Lucas’ didn’t seem fazed and continued, saying, “My friends call me Luke, though!”

He then scratched his head sheepishly, “Well… they would, if I had any.”

Head tilted in a questioning manner, your brow furrowed at his admission, movements that he managed to notice.

“Ah… well, nobody ever wants to be friends with the weird kid.”

You raised your eyebrow, and he pointed to the unconscious group at your feet as an explanation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these guys went after me, and they don’t care whether I’m at school or not,” Lucas kicked away a stray can, giving the men an annoyed sneer, “Just that Dad ‘pays them back’ or something, I dunno. No one really wants to be caught up in a mess like this.”

You’d followed his gaze, staring at the people sprawled out on the dirty floor.

What were these guys, self-proclaimed tax collectors? Loan sharks? Wannabe gang members?

That last one seems to fit them to a T.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud growling of a stomach. And it wasn’t yours.

Shaking your head, you glanced back at Lucas, his face red in embarrassment. Without hesitation, you rooted through the pockets of a few of the men, forgoing their cards and instead pulled out handfuls of cash from their wallets.

You may already be considered a criminal by the U.S. Army, but you didn’t want more on your record than you already had. And you had standards.

You’d rather have “assault” and “pickpocketing” on that record over “not paying for fast food” any day. That last one just seems like a real shitty thing to be arrested over. Besides, you’d never steal from ordinary civilians… but you’d make exceptions for assholes.

You moved to leave the alley again, tousling Lucas’ hair as you went past. When you didn’t hear his footsteps following, you stopped at the entrance, sending another glance back towards his way you huffed at his stupefied expression before jerking your head in a gesture to follow. You couldn’t help but smile at his joyful expression, biting back a chuckle at his excited hopping at your side.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

.

.

.

Six more months passed, and after meeting Lucas, you haven’t left the town. You’d found out that he’d essentially raised himself. The kid’s mother was gone, and he didn’t know why. You met his father, and after that one meeting you knew he was useless. His debts weren’t even for necessities, just for his alcohol and gambling. Guy didn’t even seem to care that his son was the one suffering most from the consequences of his actions.

You were annoyed, but after witnessing him passed out in a bathtub, reaching over the edge to clutch at a toilet while a bottle of whiskey hung from his fingers, you knew he was a lost cause. Lucas knew it, too. Admitted that he’d known so for years.

You felt bad for the kid and did what you could to help. You kept those lackeys off his back. Got him clothes, food, school supplies if he needed them. You didn’t tell him where you got the money and he never asked, but considering how you’d initially met you assume he had a slight idea. You still didn’t talk much, and your attention span failed you at times, but he understood. He knew that you were at least trying.

At times he’d ask you for help with his homework, and you were convinced it caused you just as much grief as it did him. You could barely remember what happened months or a year before, let alone what you’d learnt over a decade ago.

You were a weapon, not a teacher. You could teach him how to kick ass with the best of them, but you didn’t know shit about literature or geography. Or whatever it was high schoolers learnt these days.

Even when you were working with the government, you didn’t have to know how to get around yourself. They just shipped you to the mission location and back, and that was that. You didn’t even know you got around now, considering how most of your time on the road was spent in your head.

You swear he only asked you to laugh at you. You’d try to intimidate him with a deadpan stare, but that only made the cheeky brat laugh louder. Your exasperation would fizzle out soon enough, his joy infectious. You found yourself feeling… happy. Normal. Like an average human. Something you never thought would be a near-unreachable standard.

But of course, as always, happiness in your life never lasted long.

You’d stopped moving. You stayed in one place for too long.

You’d focused too much on the present, that you forgot about the past you’d been running to escape. And so, it caught up.

You were running again. They were at your heels, this time. And you couldn’t just beat them into the ground.

Their weapons looked different. Their bullets hurt.

You didn’t want to believe that this was happening. Just this morning you’d been laughing with Lucas, pancake batter and syrup drizzled over your heads.

Now all you could hear were shouts and gunfire, blood dripping down a healing cut at your temple.

You wanted them to lose your tracks, but you knew how they worked. If you disappeared completely, they’d have to look for clues. Which would lead them to Lucas. Which was why you were leading them, herding them away like sheep to be as far away from the kid as possible. But it was not meant to be.

“Sis!”

The voice made electricity shoot up your spine, catching more than just your attention. You noticed a few soldiers turn to look his way as he ran towards you, even as you shook your head and urged him to turn back. He wouldn’t. You were family, how could he leave you behind?

“LUKE, RUN!”

…Was that your voice? Sometimes you’d forget what your voice sounded like, and not using it for weeks at a time definitely didn’t help your case.

He skidded meters away, eyeing the soldiers, his face conflicted, “But—”

You heard the crackling of their comms and spotted a few guns being pointed his way, one of them even pulled out a pin.

What the fuck was General Lane thinking?!

The kid was a civilian, not a criminal!

You sprinted over to Lucas, body shielding his within a second. You felt bullets pierce your back, easily tearing through the fabric of your clothing. You heard Lucas yelling for them to stop, but you knew they wouldn’t listen. You heard the tell-tale clinking of a grenade rolling on the concrete and you tightened your grip around him, eyes screwed shut. You heard the bellowed orders “TAKE COVER” and then…

Pain.

Searing, white-hot, pain was spreading on your back. You felt shrapnel enter your torso, the heat eating away at your skin. You forced yourself to endure the agony.

You were protecting him.

You repeated those four words in your mind like a mantra, mind clinging to them for a way to ground itself.

When you felt the dust settling, the ringing in your ears calming, you dared to open your eyes. And you wish you didn’t.

Despite your best efforts, Lucas had been hit. Twice. The projectiles had presumably ricocheted. Whether it was shrapnel or bullets, you didn’t know. All you knew was that he was wounded, and that you’ve failed once again.

“No…” You rasped out, tears obscuring your vision. Your throat hurt from disuse, but you continued to force the words out, “No… kid, not you too!”

“Hah,” Lucas laughed, not noticing the blood that came with the motion, “I’m… I… I didn’t e-expect to go like this. P-Pretty badass, huh?”

His eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the light in his eyes quickly dulling. Your breath hitched in your throat, and gritting your teeth, you muttered, “No, no… c’mon, eyes on me bud. Eyes on me!”

His head weakly flopped to the side as he grinned, teeth stained with blood, “S’okay… was meant t-to be gone in… in… that alley. Y’saved me… y’let me be happy… thank you.”

Lucas went limp. Just like that, he was gone. And so were you.

You didn’t flinch when the wounds on your back slowly stitched themselves back together, no doubt leaving a mark as every failure always did.

You didn’t resist when they forcefully yanked you away, uncaring that they had just taken the life of an innocent. The life of a child.

You felt someone forcefully lift your head, to which you muttered, “Kill me. Please.”

You didn’t speak any more after that, no matter how much they tried to get a reaction.

No… you wouldn’t do anything until you were either dead, or put face-to-face with the bastard you knew gave the order.

And as expected, they put him right where you wanted him.

You were back at the base, arid desert and all.

They’d seated you in a metal chair, one bolted down to the thick concrete beneath your feet. Your arms were forced to lie flush against its armrests, wrists cuffed into place.

You were in one of the interrogation rooms, metal walls to the front, back and the left. You weren’t fooled. You knew the wall to the right was a one-sided window. To know that there were people just watching you…

You felt like an animal.

It was only after General Lane stood across from you, after the only door leading in and out of the room clicked shut, that you even twitched. Your attention finally drifted up from the flimsy metal cuffs that they’d clamped around your wrists—not that they knew your strength had grown—and to the poor excuse of a man attempting to stand tall.

You glared at him, unabashedly showing the hatred burning within you. It made him swallow, despite the poker face he attempted to keep up. Your silent staring contest stretched on and on, his mouth repeatedly opening and closing in indecision. He wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The people behind the window had plenty of words, though. You couldn’t catch all of them, but you managed to decipher a muffled few.

“Dad” was one. Which meant one of the people might’ve been his kid. Wouldn’t be implausible. Last time you paid attention to him, he had two. Girls, if your memory actually served you correct. And two of the voices you could hear were distinctly feminine.

“Our” was another, spoken with a lilt for emphasis before “Dad”, which meant both of his kids were there. If your first assumption was correct.

“Superman” was the last one you heard. It was the word that caused you the most grief. Why mention the “Man of Steel”? You remembered hearing someone rant about the Kryptonian, mentioning a possible relation between the hero and a journalist. One of General Lane’s kids was a journalist. That could pose a problem. If his kids really were on the other side of the glass, and Lucas’ info—

‘Luke.’

Any hesitation you had dissipated instantly. No matter what would become of you, you’d make this bastard pay. It was the least you could do.

Breaking away from the General’s stare, your eyes flashed to the window, cogs turning in your mind. Perhaps you could do worse than cause simple, physical, pain. You could expose him, have his children lose their faith in him. Even if they weren’t his children, they would be his soldiers. It could lead to questioning of his authority.

It was worth a shot. Besides, what did you have to lose?

“You killed him,” you snarled, “He was just a boy, but you killed him.”

You shot up from your seat. Rather, you shot up with your seat. The cuffs were still in place, but the bolts that held the seat down had lost their hold with a resounding crack.

General Lane jumped back in shock, the doorknob now jiggling as his soldiers desperately tried to come to his aid.

Without missing a beat, you tore your hands out of their restraints and pulled the long metal table that separated you two upwards, shoving it legs-first into where the door would be. The legs went right through the wall, the body of the table now blocking the entrance as well as the door itself.

‘That’s the front wall and entrance covered…’

With an audible growl, you turned back to the general, the man now scrambling back to push himself flat against a wall in fear. He was pointing a pistol at you, but you were undeterred.

You took a step, and he took a shot.

You took another, and he did the same.

You took a third, and the man emptied his gun into your torso.

You weren’t fazed, your fury burning too great for you to feel anything other than rage.

He looked like he was about to reply to your yell, but you cut him off before he could, snapping, “Your problem was with me. It always has been. There was no need for you to involve a civilian, let alone ordering your men to open fire!”

“I… I—”

“I wanted to live, so you tried to have me die. When I do want to die, you keep me alive. How much more do I have to suffer for you to be satisfied?! How much longer do I have to exist, for my wants to actually matter?!”

As you stomped closer towards him, you gripped the chair that had been meant for him and threw it across the room. The object formed a deep dent upon impact and rendered the back wall weak.

Releasing another growl, you lifted him up by the collar of his uniform, “How much lower are you going to fall, after murdering that poor boy? Is there even a bar lower for you to reach?!”

The general continued to ignore the futility of repeatedly pulling the trigger of his empty pistol, desperate for a way out. But without a miracle, he would never be able to escape.

Unfortunately, he got one. It came in the form of a Kryptonian, at that.

Superman broke through the dented wall, quick in separating you from the general. You felt your back smack against the one-sided window, the cool glass cracking beneath your flesh.

Oh, right. You hadn’t had the chance to change. Your shirt was still burnt at the back, the rest of your clothing tattered at the edges and your feet shoeless. Your state of dress seemed to come as a surprise to Superman, too. If the brief moment he took to observe his ‘opponent’ was any indication.

You glanced at the wall he’d used as an entrance. It wasn’t that much of a fall. It wouldn’t take much to heal if you got hurt. Ten seconds, at most.

Within a breath, you fearlessly leaped through the broken wall. You heard a choke of astonishment behind you as you did, but as much as you wanted to be amused by the alien, you recognized the threat he was to your freedom.

He was a goody-two-shoes. If he caught you, you’d just be locked up. And you’d be used as a lab rat or a weapon all over again. Never able to die.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You’d landed with a wince and a roll, a sickening crack shooting shocks up your left arm. You’d shaken off the pain, sprinting towards where you knew the weapons vault was. The rushing of wind reached your ears, indicating that the alien wasn’t far behind. Spotting the vault entrance straight ahead, you trusted your instincts and slid across the tile floor as if you were running a base. It worked.

Superman flew straight past you, and not expecting you to have sensed him coming, was going too fast to stop himself from crashing into the vault. Your eyes widened at the sight. You hadn’t predicted it either.

Hurriedly pushing yourself up to your feet, you’d rushed into the vault, mind flashing through the arsenal they had you use throughout the years. You’d known what they had in there, and one of them was definitely not good for a Super.

When you stepped foot into the vault, you were proven right. Superman was struggling to stand, green creeping its way through his veins.

“Shit…” without hesitation, you pulled him up. You wrapped his arm around your neck and dragged him out, uncaring of the guns pointed at you. You felt his questioning stare, and grumbled, “What.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question, made of only one word… yet the true nature of its complexity was beyond you. You shook your head. Not the time.

“Never wanted to kill anyone. Never wanted anyone dead, either…” You sighed, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Just wanted to be happy.”

Once you determined that he was at a safe enough distance, you promptly let him flop into the ground. You huffed at his comical “oof” before revealing the smoke grenade you had swiped from the vault. You pulled its pin, and as everyone’s vision began to be obscured, you muttered words only Superman could hear.

“Please, just leave me alone…”

 ~~~

You didn’t know if it was because of Superman’s influence, but you were. Left alone, that is.  Then again, it might’ve been because you’d kept away from civilization as best as you could, staying in forests for as long as you were able.

For how long at this point? You weren’t sure. By the time you’d left him in the smoke, it had been five years since the dorm with Alex. Three since the experiment. One since Lucia. And... none since Luke. 

With a shake of your head, their blurred faces and vague memories faded in an instant, the frown at the resurfacing thoughts of them quickly replaced with an easy-going smile.

The woods weren’t too bad.

The animals were surprisingly amicable, and you found an unfamiliar joy in jumping into lakes and rivers without any remorse. If you needed anything that couldn’t be provided naturally, the camp sites you’d managed to memorize the locations of were useful in that regard. Clothes, food, money…

You didn’t realize exactly how easy it was to steal from civilians until you weren’t one yourself.

Still... it should be troubling that you didn’t know how long you’d been living in the forests. Every day blurs together. You didn’t even know what forest you were living in. Or if you’d lived in more than one. Your memories continued to fracture, and due to lack of practice, you could feel your ability to speak and understand wavering.

Your memories…

Very few of them remained intact. You had a feeling that you had a part to play in it, intentional or not, considering that the ones you could remember seemed happy, and anything otherwise—anything that caused pain… either you got rid of them the second they came, or it made you retreat into the deepest recesses of your mind, never knowing how long you’d been in there the moment you returned to reality.

Could’ve been a few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. It was partially why you’d lost track of how long you’d been living among the trees.

Every time you thought of your past, you were reminded of the burden that was carrying emotions. Of being human. It was roughly one month into living away from humans, that you accepted it was simpler to just ignore the fact that you had a life before this mess. That there had ever been happier times. If you couldn’t identify what was considered a ‘good’ memory, then you wouldn’t be sucked into the ‘bad’, right?

So you buried them. Even imagined little coffins for them and everything.

Part of you knows that it’s unhealthy. But that mindset is what led to those instances now being few and far in between—or, at least you hoped they were. Again, you didn’t really have a good sense of time.

But living was good. It was fun, not thinking of anything but what to do next. You could spend an entire day chasing after deer, or just climbing a tree. And do the same thing all over again tomorrow!

…It all sounds a bit boring now that you think about it. But oddly enough, the days were surprisingly fun. If you really wanted a thrill, all you had to do was start wrestling a bear! That was fun.  

You were actually rushing away from one right now, teasingly dangling yourself from one branch of a tree to another, when you heard a scream. A female scream, and then… a crash. While the noise terrified the bear, it only intrigued you, drawing you closer. Almost like a siren’s call.

You dropped down to the forest floor, tackling the bear in the process. After absentmindedly hauling it over your shoulder, you dashed through the treeline within seconds. Once out of the forest, you coughed as you blinked at the wreckage before you.

Two vehicles had collided roughly thirty meters away, the smoke billowing from the smouldering wreck making your lungs burn. What startled you more was the armed man holding a gun up to an injured, blonde woman twenty meters away from the crash.

You blinked at the man, who seemed to be talking the woman’s ears off. Rather, what was the word… monologuing? Yeah. Monologuing.

His cocky grin made you roll your eyes, the action leading to you noticing the bear’s presence on your shoulder. An idea struck. Your eyes narrowed at the man, before glancing over to the bear. The man. The bear. The man…

“BEAR!”

You gleefully yelled, startling them both. But what brought complete horror upon both humans, was the fact that there was now a bear hurtling towards them. Correction, towards the man.

He dropped like a rock, him and the bear both did. Whereas the poor, unharmed-yet-traumatised fuzzy animal quickly scrambled to its feet before sprinting back into the woods, the effectively disarmed male stayed flat on the concrete, out cold.

Tilting your head to the side, you walked up to the unconscious human, your brows furrowing as you wondered why he wasn’t moving.

You sniffed and rubbed at your itching nose, wincing at the horrible stench of roasting rubber. You couldn’t tell if the blood you smelt came from the wounds after the crash, or after the bear.

You gave him a light tap of a foot, checking if he’d wake up anytime soon. When the man didn’t budge, you shrugged and turned to go back to the forest, only to freeze when you were startled by the female he’d been threatening. You’d forgotten she was there, and the woman was far closer than you remembered her to be.

She looked stunned.

Her hands were hovering by her cheeks, palms over her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes as she muttered… a name? It sounded familiar. You didn’t know why. You tilted your head, confused.

“You…” she sobbed, tears now flowing freely. She stammered out, “You don’t remember, do you?”

Who was this woman?

Cautiously, you shook your head. Your was body tense, knees bent and ready to escape if you needed to.

“Nothing? It’s me, Eliza,” another shake of your head. She sniffled, “Eliza Danvers? One of my daughters brought you over for Thanksgiving a few times, you were like a part of our family, before… before… you disappeared.”

Danvers.

You didn’t hear anything past that, the word—name?—had a tremor course through your skull. That was… worrying? It should be worrying, right?

Your hands flashed to your aching temples, gritting your teeth, you croaked out, “D-Dan… Danvers?”

You hadn’t said anything in months. Your throat was probably as painful to use as your voice was to hear.

Eliza’s eyes shined brighter in realization. You were remembering.

“Yes, Danvers! Do you… Do you remember my daughter? She’d been your closest friend. Alex, Alexandra Danvers—”

Static was all you could hear. You dropped to your knees, the pain growing more unbearable the more she spoke. You barely felt the gravel of the road digging into your knees.

Alex?

Alex.

Who was—

“No… Don’t!”

That was… you? Why was this hurting so much? What was going on?

Why didn’t you want to remember?

You felt hands on your shoulders, desperately trying to… to what? Snap you out? Of what? Pain? You didn’t even know why it came up, let alone how to stop it!

Then… then a chill. One you haven’t felt since you encountered… someone. You couldn’t remember them, either.

All you could hear were your instincts.

Instincts…

Your instincts were screaming, frantic in wanting you to leave. To escape.

So you followed them.

Shrugging Eliza’s hands off of your shoulders, you jumped to your feet and swiftly fled into the woods, not turning back once. Not even when you heard her scream a name—yours?—and especially not when you heard the tell-tale swoosh of… a cape? You didn’t know.

Your thoughts made no sense right now. All you wanted was to go back and forget. To go back into the woods and be happy.

Just… be happy.

[huntresswarlock]

I am so sorry

But also no I’m not

1 for all because I am an evil bastard

Then more specifically

4, 12, 18, 24, 25, 35, 40, 42, 44, 45, 56, 63, 69 for Lady, Harmony, Nomiki, Odonys, Ione and Somnia

6, 44 and 58 for Nik and Valerie

20, 40, 42, 56, 65 for Icarus as well

💞💞💞

under a read more because i cannot shut up about my characters and i won't apologize for that!

most of these will b organized by character instead of by question but since you asked for 1 for all of em i'll put them all underneath it

1. why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

Nik: they found a weird book in a thrift shop and accidentally figured out how to poke Ink-Treader to get certain automatic responses in the form of magic powers, which they swear are totally normal and not the result of a pact (conscious or not) at all.

Nomiki: her mother was a fighter who trained her well, and when she was a bit older she swore vengeance against that which destroyed her world, which she initially thought was the gods but then turned out to be The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar (Eldritch Edition)

Harmony: was always an outdoors-y sort of girl, so druid made sense when she was transported into The School, and then the Dictionfairy of the Summer Reading Court took a special interest in her and gave her some extra stuff on top of druidic powers!

Lady: built to be a… let’s call her a “personal companion,” whose main gimmick was that she is extremely intelligent about a great many things with a perfect memory; hence Archivist. as for the Artificer class itself, that came about primarily when she was working with an inventor/engineer named Rowan Keen, who enlisted her as his assistant in his projects. she learned a great deal about mechanical engineering and building from him, as well as receiving some upgrades like sewing/welding tools in her hands to assist her with this.

Somnia: she is very old (like, 650ish years old) and very in tune with nature already, and then the goddess of sleep saved her life with a drop of her blood, giving her the Stars circle powers

Odonys: they were formerly a Watcher Oath paladin, and took up that mantle because it's what their society set out for them. they made the choice to break away from it when offered freedom by the primal embodiment of chaos, though they have mixed feelings on this because it caused them to be exiled

Ione: she didn't have a choice 😔 nearly drowning unlocked some latent sorcerer powers

Valerie: stunt fighting training baybeeeeee

Icarus: also didn't have a choice, on account of nearly burning himself to death and then taking a deal from the god of fire to work for him in exchange for not dying

Lady

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Chaos Bolt is the meme answer, Dream (to reach out to Rowan) is the sad answer

12. have they ever been in love?

she's not supposed to have been. but. ;)

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

a follower, for the time being! she has spent a long time taking orders and fulfilling requests, and though that part of her life is done now, she is still content to leave the leading to others.

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🔥🔥🔥 it's wild and free

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

she doesn't really tell stories, but if requested, she would tell stories about things that happened to her

she likes to hear stories she hasn't heard before

35. which party member do they worry for?

Domino Domino Domino Domino Domino D

40. do they enjoy poetry?

yes! she's not really one for composing it, but it's nice to listen to

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

beautiful, intelligent, free

44. what do they need to learn?

WHEN WILL SHE LEARN!!!!! THAT HER ACTIONS!!!!!!!!!! HAVE CONSEQUENCES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

45. how do they hug people?

at 4'11", she's almost certainly going to be shorter than whoever she's hugging, so she tends to go for arms-under-the-shoulders and head-onto-chest. she gives really really good hugs, on account of all of her......... padding.

56. what animal do they most relate to?

caged bird that recently busted out :>

63. what fight has scared them the most?

before she got free will, we encountered some Crown-of-Thorns Starfish (In Space) that knocked her down to single-digit HP. though she wasn't physically able to feel fear at the time, the significant damage was deeply alarming.

69.how would they describe their party members?

Domino: "My dear friend, and a very kind and intelligent woman. I was very concerned for her when I was still under restrictions. Now I am no longer restrained in what I can think or do, but I find that I am still worried about her. She is always so melancholy when she thinks no one is looking..."

Rusty: "Something of an enigma. I only recently learned his real name: Rheneas Dolgoch. Apparently he used to be involved in various criminal activities before being framed for the disappearance of his boyfriend and then taking this portalhopping job for Dr. Horizon. I'd like to get to know him better, and have him teach me some things."

Clifton: "An honest man, with a good heart, and somewhat lacking the brains to think through his actions. Still, he tries, and he is responsible for getting Kinmati's attention with regards to my previous plight. I do wonder if adventuring across the multiverse is the best coping mechanism for the loss of his fiancée, but..."

Harmony

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

the campaign stopped at level 12, but i think she would have jumped at the chance to use Animal Shapes!

12. have they ever been in love?

yes!!!! she loves her girlfriend, Mick, very very much

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

she would describe herself as leading from the back, primarily encouraging others to be their best selves but not exactly telling them what to do

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌎 (earth), because it's grounding and stable, like her

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

harmy likes to hear and tell stories with happy endings!

35. which party member do they worry for?

she worried about both other party members equally, really, for different reasons. they were both working through more issues than her, so she felt the need to be the emotional glue holding them together and getting them to talk things out.

40. do they enjoy poetry?

not as much as prose, but she likes a good poem or two! especially free verse stuff

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

cheerful, outdoorsy, kind

44. what do they need to learn?

over the course of the campaign she needed to learn (and did learn) when to keep trying with diplomacy and when to fight back

45. how do they hug people?

really really tightly! probably while rocking them back and forth, too

56. what animal do they most relate to?

she turned into horses a lot so....... honse

63. what fight has scared them the most?

the fight with Mr. Ciliary when Mick seemed dead-set on sacrificing herself so that Harmony and Bill could leave scared her quite a bit

69.how would they describe their party members?

Mick: "My girlfriend!!!!!!!! She's so strong and cool and pretty, and she's a really big streamer, I love her!!!!"

Bill: "One of my best friends! He's really smart, and crazy good at fencing. And he takes really good care of Mikey."

Nomiki

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Mending would be really useful for her

12. have they ever been in love?

yes, she loves her boyfriend Ramiel, the god of storms

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

a leader, even if she has to strike out on her own

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌎 (earth) for strength and stability

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

she likes to hear any stories told by her dad

she tells a lot of myths and folktales and fables

35. which party member do they worry for?

Xiro, at least until their fighting training started to pick up

40. do they enjoy poetry?

yes, though she's no good at reading or reciting it, she likes to hear it being spoken aloud

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

big, strong, stubborn

44. what do they need to learn?

nomiki needed to learn how to trust people and open up again

45. how do they hug people?

BIG hugs. huge hugs from a huge woman with huge arm muscles (and later on huge wings). like being wrapped up in a warm blanket in the dead of winter, like the promise of safety from any monsters out to get you. like a loaf of bread right out of the oven.

56. what animal do they most relate to?

cows! pretty, large, gentle, stubborn

63. what fight has scared them the most?

fighting the King of the Storm played right into her storm phobia, so much so that she couldn't even face it properly and mostly dealt with its offshoots

69.how would they describe their party members?

Xiro: "Xiro is my friend, and my little sibling. They're a really good fighter and baker, and they've helped a lot of people.

Muire: "Muire's my friend too. She's crazy smart, though sometimes she can forget not everyone around her is as smart as she is. But she has a good heart."

Odonys

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

being able to cast Zone of Truth would come in handy when dealing with Q'ix, but since they only have two levels in paladin now, they've lost the ability to do so 😔

12. have they ever been in love?

tritons don't feel stupid things like love.

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

follower. second-in-command, sure, but still a follower. though that's been shifting, lately...

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌊 for its adaptability and power

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

they don't really tell stories, but they like to hear the tales of myths and gods and heroes

35. which party member do they worry for?

as if they'd worry about any of their party members, hilarious! the closest thing would be mild confusion about Suvi's tangled concerns for the party's free will

40. do they enjoy poetry?

they've never had the chance to hear poetry, and i don't think they would enjoy it unless it was in the style of an epic

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

solitary, unpleasant, scarred

44. what do they need to learn?

how to exist around others, how to rely on others, what their place in the world is

45. how do they hug people?

they don't.

56. what animal do they most relate to?

a dog, a feral dog to be specific. they even resource guard!

63. what fight has scared them the most?

they have trained hard not to feel any fear when fighting, even on the brink of death. still, being chased by every shark in the ocean did get to them.

69.how would they describe their party members?

Q'ix: "Annoying. Good with their fiddle, gifted with magic, but I don't trust them at all, and I don't know if it's worth keeping them around."

Sloane: "A creature that skinny has no business being anywhere close to the middle of the fight, and yet that's where he is constantly, like Breidr when he gets underfoot. Except Breidr has more bulk. Still, he seems to know what he's doing with that sword."

Suvi: "I wonder if there's even anything underneath all the layers of falsehoods and misdirection she wears. But she has been helpful, and having a cart has come in handy."

Amber: "A woman of few words and strong convictions. I appreciate her presence."

Somnia

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be?

Catnap, so she can cast it on Nemo and Gimmy!

12. have they ever been in love?

Somnia loves her children very much, and loves life, but in terms of romantic love specifically, no. as for the person she used to be before she died and was resurrected? ... also no.

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower?

a follower, mostly. she's old, and she's done enough leading that she's happy to let her kids take the lead.

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most?

🌎 (earth) on account of druid stuff as well as dependability

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear?

somnia likes to tell the stories of the constellations on whatever world she finds herself on! she has an innate ability to know them and know what they mean

she likes to hear whatever sorts of stories are being told, she's really not picky; it's more important that the story is important to whoever is telling it

35. which party member do they worry for?

Nemo, constantly. they are so young and they've been through so much that she can't help but worry. Gimmy is at least an adult, though he still needs a bit of fussing over.

40. do they enjoy poetry?

i don't think she actively seeks it out, but she won't say no to listening to or reading some if the opportunity presents itself

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

motherly, empathetic, old

44. what do they need to learn?

she needs to learn that not everyone can be saved, or is worth saving, i think

45. how do they hug people?

with that good deep pressure therapy and mom bod

56. what animal do they most relate to?

tortoise, probably. old and slow and wise.

63. what fight has scared them the most?

the fight with the Found Footage when she was knocked out and wasn't sure whether Nemo and Gimmy would be okay without her. though tbh this upcoming fight with the Imago is more than likely going to take the scariest fight spot, at least until we finally face the Broken Lurker.

69.how would they describe their party members?

Nemo: "Oh, my poor little Orion... they're a good child, they really are. But they were surrounded by people who didn't know or care to realize that, and they've thought themself a nobody for so long that it hurts my heart. I wish they could see how many people they've helped just by being themself."

Gimmy: "Gimmy is very dear to me. He pretends like he doesn't care, but I know that he does. I can see it when he works on his little dragon construct, and when we were speaking to Minerva about Nemo's past. He just needs a little bit of help understanding how to be polite and kind to others, that's all."

Nik

6. which party member do they relate to the most?

tbh probably svetlana. they're both big smarties who have Simic roots! they're basically identical!

44. what do they need to learn?

how to care about other people beyond just "what can this person do for me?"

58. what do they think their role in the party is? what is their role in actuality?

they think they're the brains of this operation and the sole voice of reason, but really they're a bit of dead weight because i didn't build them very well

Valerie

6. which party member do they relate to the most?

tough to say because we've only had a couple of sessions of the campaign she's in, but right now probably Ashlyn. just two mean girls against the world!

44. what do they need to learn?

it's actually not a bad thing to be girly or to embrace femininity, it's not a weakness like she thinks she is but can be neutral or even a major strength

58. what do they think their role in the party is? what is their role in actuality?

she thinks she's the only competent member of the party and the fearless leader; she is an asset in fights for sure, especially once she gets some maneuvers, but in reality she is only one piece of the puzzle

Icarus

20. which of the five senses do they rely the most on?

hearing! icarus has always had impeccable hearing and has relied on it a lot when sneaking around

40. do they enjoy poetry?

he does not talk about the angsty teenage poems he wrote when he was younger and didn't realize he was trans. but i think if he applied himself he could be a good poet, and he likes to read and listen to it.

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself?

selfish, failure, coward

56. what animal do they most relate to?

prior to almost burning to death, he would have said a swan. post-burning... an ugly duck

65. what is holding them back?

what isn't holding him back tbh. he has a lot of issues stemming from being raised to think he was perfect and then tossed aside as soon as he stepped out of line. i think the number one thing though is the image he has of himself as a bad person who does bad things. he used to be a bad and selfish person who has hurt a lot of people; after his near-death experience he became really humble and considerate, but still thinks of himself in terms of his past actions, instead of what he is doing now to redeem himself. what is holding him back is his inability to recognize that he's changed.

[demivampirew]

Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 29

Previous Chapters in the masterlist

Triggers: Panic attack; anxiety; crying.

Tag list:  Here’s the incredible people who   showed me support (thank  you    so  much for that) and people who  asked  me to tag them too  ☺️   (I   think  I will write a few chapters  of  this story, if you want me to tag     you, tell me ☺️   ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo   constip8merm8       penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen  littlefreya  wondersofdreaming      alyxkbrl solariumss  sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira   @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog   @lunedelorient​  @michelle-1185​  @madbaddic7ed​     @summersong69​ @kaatelyyynn​

The sweet melody force Henry to wake up. The combination of an angelic voice and piano wasn't something he wanted to miss. As he approached the living room, he saw you playing the keyboards while singing some beautiful lyrics. He leaned against the wall to listen to the delightful tune without distracting you.

You're all I need my one belief the winds of time will carry me to live without dubiety don't let this ever end

We've flow afar beyond the sea to find each other finally we've waited long and patiently to build a bridge between dualities.

Shivers ran through his body, the combination of your voice, the soft instrumental and the lovely lyrics gave him chills. You were writing the final lyrics of your new song when you finally noticed him.

- Sorry, babe, did I wake you up? - you apologized. - Yep, but it doesn't matter. That's the greatest way of waking up.-he replied, grinning. His lips felt dry as he gave you a tender good morning kiss. - I have to give you a lip balm.- you said playfully and he laughed.

As you made kissing sounds and called his name, Kal appeared from the kitchen, where he was bitting  a bone- and went straight to Henry. As you did for his birthday, you put a little surprise for Henry in the doggy's collar. He kneeled on the floor and then took the tiny gift bag and inside of it, there was a silver locket that contained two photos: one was Kal and the other was a picture of you. The gift also included a little card: "Happy Father's day, daddy! Love, Kal." A huge smile appeared on his face.

- I love it, Kal, thank you!- he exclaimed while petting his furry son. Then, he lifted his head and looked at you with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, "Thanks, baby" he added. - It was Kal's idea. He's even so egocentric that he put himself as well.- you joked referring to the fact that your picture was there with the Akita. Seeing and heard him laugh was among you're favourite things on the entire world. If he was happy, you could feel the sunshine hit you no matter the time of the day, the season or the weather. As Taylor's song says " I see sparks fly whenever you smile".

Later that day, you called your dad to congratulate him on his day. Henry had his own zoom family reunion for Father's Day. It wasn't a lie that you couldn't be there because you were going to phone your old man, but there was also the anxiety of intruding in something private. It didn't matter how in love you were with each other, you felt that 4 months of dating wasn't enough time together to be part of those special moments, especially after his birthday. Due to the pandemic and the fact that his family lived far away from him, you haven't had the chance to meet them yet, at least personally, so you felt that they might felt curious and ask questions and it'd seem that you were stealing their thunder. Today was all about his dad and his brothers. Despite avoiding the Cavill online hang out, you made sure to salute them on father's day. You sent a direct message to Charlie, the only member of your boyfriend's family you had the chance to talk several times when he and Henry video-called and you had a good relationship with. You included him and the rest of them in your Father's Day post on Instagram as well as pleading Henry to deliver your best wishes. Your day couldn't be better, you felt. While you scrolled through Instagram, giving likes to your friend's post delivering sweet thankful words to their dads, partners, etc a notification let you know that Henry posted as well. After going to his account, a bright smile appeared on your face as you saw the photo he posted. It was a photo from his childhood; in it, he was standing next to his brothers and his father. He was leaning against his younger sibling with the rest standing behind them with the Cavill Senior besides his sons. Only one of the children wasn't smiling and had a "bad boy" face, it was Simon. So, except for the young man, all had happy gestures, specially Henry who looked cheerful. The picture seemed to be from a wedding or a similar event giving the fact that they all were wearing suits. Underneath said portrait, your British man dedicated a few words to his family: "In this here photo only one of the Cavill men was a father. Now.... a few years later, only one isn't! Happy Father's Day to you, my incredible father, and to you my awesome brothers! Legends to a man.Also, for those that don't know, this is how we dress in England all the time.#FathersDay" All the joy you were feeling before vanished instantly. Now anxiety had fully taken over your emotions and air couldn't get inside your body. You ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bag to breathe in. You went into the house's main bathroom to hide from Henry so he wouldn't find out that you were having a panic attack. The rolled down your eyes and you felt as if needles were being sticked to your heart. "In this here photo only one of the Cavill men was a father. Now.... a few years later, only one isn't! " "..., only one isn't! " the words kept repeating inside your mind and you could even hear his voice. When Henry told you that whatever was your decision about having kids, he wanted to remain by your side, it made you extremely happy to know that you'll never lose him, but in the same time, you felt even more anxiety than before. One thing was to know that you could lose him in the future for not wanting the same thing, but there was the upside that he'd someday make his dream come true; another thing was for you to take away the possibility of being a dad because he loved you enough to give up his longtime desire of having kids. What if someday he regretted his desition? Would he blamed you for not doing the right thing and set him free? Will breaking up with him be the right decision? There was always a chance that if you felt that couldn't have kids in the near future, that it could happen in a distant future. You could always adopt or freeze your eggs so you could find a surrogate in your body wasn't in conditions to carry a child.

-Baby, you want to watch a movie?- Henry asked you as he knocked on the bathroom's door. You had been there for almost an hour, burning your poor brain with all those existential questions. You took a deep breath as you wiped your tears. - Yeah, babe. I'll be there in a minute.- you replied making an extra effort for him not to noticed that you'd been crying. - Ok, I'll make popcorn in the meantime.- he said and left. You stood up and faced the mirror. After washing your face, you made sure there were no trails of your tears. After sitting on the couch, you tried hard to focus on choosing a movie. You ended selecting a horror movie called "The Ritual". A big bowl of popcorn rested on your boyfriend's lap as you watched the movie. As much as you tried to pay attention to the movie, you barely understood what was going on since your brain would repeat his words and the questions you made to yourself before. You took deep breaths to avoid having another panic attack and break into tears. As the movie was reaching its climax, your man paused the movie. It took you a moment to notice it and to see that he was starring at you. - Are you ok, princess? - he questioned worried. You faced him, smiling and nodding; of course you couldn't speak because otherwise the lump in your throat would give you away. He inspected your face.- Are you sure? You can tell me if something's wrong, do you know that, right?- he pointed out and you nodded again, hoping he'll quit the interrogation and play the movie.

Unfortunately, he did not give up. He knew something was going on and would not continue playing the movie until he knew what was wrong with you. - You're lying.- he reproached you.- You haven't even touched the popcorn and you love it; you haven't stopped moving your thighs from side to side, quickly and that's something you do when you're extremely anxious; you also play with your nails, that's another nervous tic you have and not to mention that you haven't made one single comment during this entire time, I've been waiting for your clever comments and jokes, but no a single sound came out from your mouth. You have been breathing deeply and shallowing saliva which is something you do when you try not to cry.

Damn it! He knew you way too well. What was the point of pretending anymore? He already caught your bullshit. Your burst into tears and after he left the bowl on the tea table, you rested your head on his lap as he caressed your hair and your face, letting you cry as much as you need it. After a while, when you felt eased, you sat again and looked at him, who was expecting an explanation of what was going on. You took as much air as you could and finally spoke:

- I saw your Instagram post. - you pointed out. - Ok.- he said, unsure of how that could have made you upset. - You said that you were the only one who wasn't a father and I know that you truly want that, and people saying in your comments how someday you're going to be a great dad and me thinking what if I can't give you that? You assured me that you wanted to be with me anyway, but I feel that'd be extremely selfish of me to take that opportunity away from you, even if my desition is not only for my best interest or yours, but also for that baby, if there's ever one, I don't want a child to be born in a world in which his mother only had him to make his dad happy. Besides that, I fear that if I don't give you children, someday you'd regret staying with me and may even hate me for not doing that or for not let you go to find someone that can give you that.- you explained while a few tears rolled down your cheeks. Henry removed them with his thumbs and then grabbed your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. - I might enjoy to play video-games, to read fantasy books among other "childish" things, but be sure I'm a man. I'm mature enough to make my desitions and know the reasons behind them. Am I sure that I want to be with you even if you don't want kids? Absolutely. I already feel happy and complete by your side, and if someday we have kids I'd no longer be on cloud nine, but cloud infinite; especially by knowing that I'd have them with a woman who loved me enough to change her mind and with a person smart enough to know that the kid's feelings and necessities are more important than both ours. Could I be sad if I never become a father? Possibly. Would I regret my desition? No, because I know why I made that decision. Would I blame you for not giving me kids, if that happens? Hell no; I wouldn't be forced to stay, if I stay it'd be because I wanted so, and the only one to blame if I make a bad desition is me and, as I said before, I know why I want to stay with you no matter what, so I'm not even going to blame myself.- he took a short paused and continued- Look, I'd always wanted to play Alexander, the Great, did that happened? No, but I'm ok with that. I desired to play Bond for a long time and that seems like another dream that will not come true, but I'm ok with that too. At least I had the chance to play Sups and Geralt. I know might be a silly comparison, but maybe that way you understand what I'm trying to say. In that scenario, you are Superman and Geralt. You're the amazing thing that happened to me even and my life would be awesome even if I don't get Bond or Alexander.- he chuckled unsure if he was being clear. You smiled, feeling a lot better and then kissed him. His lips tasted so good. The sweetness of the popcorn left trails on them. You sat right next to him, grabbing his arm and putting your head on his shoulder. He kissed your head and was about to play the rest of the movie when you stopped him and questioned if it'd be ok with him if you play the movie from the beginning to really watch it this time. He smirked and agreed, saying that i'd be ok to see it again because there were some parts he didn't pay much attention either. Your jokes and sassy comments about some silly plot points and characters actions were all he needed to know that you felt much better.

Disclaimer: As much as I’d love to write a song, I haven’t done that, so the song reader writes actually exists and belongs to the band Epica (Twin Flames is the name of the song if you want to listen to it - is beautiful  ♥)

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

So Dick and reader in love but too stubborn to admit it. Reader has healing powers but more an exchange where she takes the pain and carries it herself and Dick is protective and forbids her to use it and they get in a fight and he blurts out his feelings (enter smut maybe?) ... they date low key (cute fluff?) until one day other titans find out. One day dick is badly hurt and they bring him back to the tower and their only choice is for her to save him ... can go where you like with it 💔❤️😭😫

OKAY! It took me a while, but there it is. It made me so happy to write on Dick for a first time fully on him (thought I couldn’t resist the slightly Jason Todd usual angst, I’m sorry, it’s just a taint, I swear). It’s 8:46, I’ve been all night writing because I really felt like so, and I just hope you like it as much as I did. AS you will quickly notice once the smut enters, the second part is not yet posted, written; without the smut alone it was something like 3000~4000 words, and it was quite long, thus, I decided to make it into two parts. As soon as the second is posted, I will edit this post and leave a link so that you can follow it. It was such a beautiful request! I tend to make my characters more... Red Hoodish? Angered? Petty, snarky? But this time it came out as vulnerable. I KNOW she can come off as intense, but it’s all for a reason; I hope I properly conveyed that. WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

SUMMARY, PT. 1, as stated in the ask, will include: Reader with healing powers who gets included into the Titans has a close relationship with Dick, eventually. They crush on each other, quite hard, and smut eventually ensues.

WORD COUNT: 5040

TW: various abuse mentions implied, not explicit. I tried to keep it as vague as possible. JUST A WARNING for the second part, it will contain definitively ANGST. So if you are here to stay, just take that into account, Happy ending not confirmed.

It has been done before; the Robin’s have never had any unnatural powers but they’ve been prepared for every occasion. Dick wants you do the same, just in case something happens – and you can hear Kori’s scoff from the back as he proposes the weekly training to the rest in the tower. It’s not like it’s uncommon to have one on one’s; but it’s frowned upon within the tower, as when mandatory it implies that something needs reinforcement. You don’t want to be exposed, and as one of the latest additions you haven’t gotten close to the group yet. It has never been really your style to integrate yourself into already made up friendships. It made you uncomfortable, so you have been sticking to Nightwing’s schedule and company when offered; he seems to have a soft spot for you, and as much as you’ve been trying to not be too easy, you know that are crushing on him hard. From the glances here and there, the murmurs and the scoffs, you can guess Koriand’r and Nightwing are not on good terms as of now. Maybe something personal? Your first instinct was an intimate relationship; but for the moment nothing has been confirmed, even if you can see the faint jealousy in her eyes whenever he asks you to stay behind.

           You wish that every little thing imagined by each of the Titans would be actually true: hot and heavy makeout sessions in the main room of the tower; quickies in the bathrooms after sparring; maybe even intimate moments alone, reassuring him like you know he does sometimes after making a specially difficult decision (and having people go against him, all the time). But what actually happens is quite pathetic; you really do train and spar, hard. Until you are out of breath, your lungs burning and every little muscle of your body aching and begging for a rest. Nightwing is relentless; you can’t use his name yet, it’s too uncomfortable, too personal. And you don’t want things to get to that level yet, as bad as you want to kiss him though.

           The reason for the one on one’s training? None other than him not wanting you to use your powers. Abilities. Whatever the name, Dick does not feel comfortable with it, not after seeing some of your scars and the hurting nature of what you can do. Showing him was easy; he recruited you after all, and saw the conditions you were enslaved under, for a Gotham mafia serving for the constant regeneration of hurt dogs in fighting rings; sometimes men who came too hurt. Other was just simply some hardcore sparring they could have for fun, having you as a backup for curing them whenever necessary. You don’t know really when you acquired them, but for as long as you have known, you can exchange physical and psychological pain, make it yours. With physical contact, always physical contact in between, you could absorb the pain and own it; depending on the gravity of it, it could open wounds in your own body (generally arms and legs, sometimes on your sides and back, but those were hardcore ones). Psychologically it was trickier; you could absorb trauma, scarring experiences or unprocessed events from members who had been in catastrophic events. It was quite useful in Gotham where there was a shooting, bombing or slaughtered every three days. It kept them in top form, in and outside of the business – and as expected, it was the thing that hurt you the most. You were not sensitive by nature, but this made you cry. You could generally process it, in due time; but the nightmares were something out of your control.

           Nightwing’s room was the closest to yours, and he generally pounded on your door until you woke up and came up to apologize in the door. He would look at you with… Pity. You despised it. Felt embarrassed, felt less, felt little; like you were again chained to the mafia and someone looked down on you. But you weren’t there anymore, and his intention wasn’t really that of making you feel less. He just wants to hug you.

           He confesses so after your second month in the Tower, while sparring. Gar and Raven have actually welcomed you quite nicely, and you are able to use their names (not Beastboy, not Nightwing). Dick and you have gotten quite close; close enough to at least confide in you before officially explaining some plans, laying out schedules seeming as you seem to be very aware of every person’s response inside the tower

           (“No, if you assign Gar on training grounds again he will fume for days before actually getting started on it. Give him first day of patrol so he can feel better about herself, then training grounds. Maybe include Kori.”

           “No, I think Kori would be better on the front lines of the sky. Maybe borders?

           “Uh, well, I don’t mean to dwell on errors, but do you remember the last time you assigned Kori alone on the skyline frontier? It’s a bit risky, Richard.”

           “Dick.”

           “Yes, Dick, okay”

           “Well, you get a point I suppose. Should we include Raven?”)

           It was quite direct, now that you remember it:

           “Stop scoffing! God, get over yourself!”. You laugh; you joke now, a bit. It’s mostly jabs against him, seeming as you two haven gotten more comfortable and can even talk now when sparring.

           “It just was too predictable, (Y/N)!”

           “Oh shut up! You are the predictable one. I just wanted to try out a move”.

           He makes a feinting, making you stupidly step back and protect your upper body before being swept down in the floor. You fall on your ass, groaning out of exasperation rather than out of pain. He still comes to offer you a hand, with a brow arched.

           “What do you mean I am predictable? I’m Nightwing, baby”. “Baby”. Or babe. He has been calling you that for a while, endearingly you guess. Does it actually make you close? You can’t really speak on his behalf, but he makes you smile, and you would say you are friends. Maybe not the closest, not like him and Wally that go way back, but you two confide and have sometimes spent dawn talking until getting into bed.

           “You and your nighttime routine, come on. It’s always the same: making sure everyone has dinner, everyone interacts together at some point, and then sending them off early whenever they have to patrol or have something planned. Then you think no one notices, but when you ‘go to make a midnight snack’, you are just checking everyone is in their beds tucked in and fine. Not like me, I guess”. You scoff; it’s not meant to come off as a self-deprecating joke, but you can see why it comes as so when he furrows his brows. “I just meant insomniac. Fuck you”.

           He laughs and so do you, but you can see something’s bothering him. You stop smiling and while getting into a sparring position again, you look at him expectantly, before making any move. You are telling him, without actually doing so, to just spit it out with your expressive eyes. He gives in, sighing.

           “It’s just-I know it took you a lot of time opening up. And I swear I have never entered your room without permission, but finally noticing you leave it open in the night makes me sleep better… Even if your… “Dreams” seem to have stopped.”

           You don’t actually know how to take the information in the moment, quite taken back that he noticed. You trust his word, and assume he hasn’t really come in your room, not that there’s anything worthy of being inspected; you only brought a few civilian clothes and a couple of books with you.

           “Did you every try to come in? The first nights. I guess it would have been scary. Or worrying, rather.”

           “It just made me feel powerless. I-“. He stops himself. It is getting deep, and you have never dwelt on these topics before. It was left unsaid; acknowledged, but not talked upon. You didn’t want to, after all, they had mostly stopped. It was over. “Someone close to me before used to have them as well. It was distressing to see them woken and completely… Lost. Scared and alone.”

           Your mind immediately assumes things. You open your mouth, and this time it is him the one urging you to continue, with his dreamy and perfect eyes. It is going to sound bitter, and worse than that, jealous. You should have shut up, not even think about it.

           “Kori?”. You mutter, almost in silence, refusing to meet his eyes and refocusing your attention into your feet, like they were not in the perfect position to launch onto him. It will, hopefully, make your intentions less obvious.

           “No.” He’s particularly fast in answering. You can tell he is trying to see what’s wrong in your feet, you fumbling with them and refusing to meet his honest eyes, but you don’t give in. He continues, for your surprise. “My brother. He is dead.”

           Fuck. And you assumed it was his fuckbuddy. You wince, embarrassed, but he quickly comes to your rescue, just saying it is fine and that he is not grieving anymore. He hast let him go, as much time as it has passed; but something in his eyes seems broken, which is odd. Richard-Dick wouldn’t lie to you. If he was not over the death of his brother, he would tell you. It’s something that bothers you while he comes close to you, and you get yourself into a defending position. This time you don’t control it when he grazes your arm, but it goes numb from the pain: you are absorbing it.

           You fall to your knees, as dramatic as it can sound, taking your left arm harshly with your right hand, as if trying to stop the pain from getting to your hand. You groan and Dick is quickly to get next to you, confused to what might happen until the gears in his head start moving and make it click.

           “I told you not to use it!”

           “You were lying!. How the fuck was I supposed to know?!”

           “Fuck!”

           The pain is intense, but it’s short-lived in comparison. It doesn’t spread to your hand, and you are able to use it; but your arm is render useless after moving it a couple of times. You can’t feel anything inside. If someone were to break it, you wouldn’t notice.

           “Are you okay?”. Dick seems really distressed; he hasn’t been able to do anything for you, other than staring and hoping that it would go quick. You nod, biting your tongue still; once you release it, it hurts less. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. I thought I-. God. Don’t do that again. You have to control it!”

           You close your eyes, wincing still; is he really lecturing you? You can’t believe it, gripping still your arm; still with some pressure, like it will help. It doesn’t.

           “Oh, fuck”. He sits in the mat, and you copy him as well, both of your hands in the cool material of the sparring floor. It helps a bit, and thus you lie down. Dick lays with his head next to your, but his body on the other direction. It feels actually quite intimate. “It’s just-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scold you, it just took me by surprise. I just remembered-“.

           There’s a pause, where you only press your cheek to the mat, staring directly at him, curious. You don’t need to urge him on; he will continue on his own, when he is prepared.

           “I remembered your nights. The tore my heart apart. Every time. I wished I could just-go in and hug you, like I did before. Try and make it safe for you, even if it’s just a bit”. He looks at you, your eyes unfazed, maybe confused and a little scared; not of him, just the warmness of your heart as he talks. He must misinterpret it. “No, shit, I meant-ah. I know I must sound like an asshole, right? Paternalizing and-“

           “No. Nononono” You mutter quickly, almost getting up as he makes the attempt to do so, maybe escape. You cling onto his shoulder, stopping him from actually doing so. You roll over yourself, resting now your chin in the mat. The mats are getting warmer under your presence. You can touch now where his head was, can almost savor the sweetness behind his intentions. But you can’t help but feel a bit scared; no one has done that to you before, cared like this before. You have been alone for quite some time. These kind of pretty empty words can be your downfall, because you want it. You want it so bad it hurts a bit like before. “I mean-I wanted that. It’s just-I-I have never had that. I don’t know how to accept it, how to take it. Or if I’m being stupid for taking your word as truth and I’m just being… Trapped, so that-“. The more you talk, the worse it gets. You sit up, sighing and hiding your head in your legs, for a second. Darkness makes you think better, it can calm you down amidst the silence of the training room. “I’m being really stupid here. Just please, forget it. I know what you meant, and I really appreciate it, Richard.”

           Things can get personal. You can get too emotional. And he most definitively didn’t mean it like that; it’s just you and your desperate need to feel loved, wanting to be loved. You thought it could be him, with him, but-is it too perfect? It would be too perfect. You are self-sabotaging; probably, at least, you think you are. Things are good, and you have a good friend to confide in. Feelings are just getting in the way to confuse you, to lose him-no, maybe not even that. Just use him, like he wants to use you. You are a healer, the secret weapon of the group: he hasn’t tell the rest because he plans on taking advantage of it. You are just a tool, you’re still being used by Gotham’s mafia, still chained, still-

           “No! You are not getting it! Wait stop, please! I won’t raise my voice, I-“. You have tried to escape. As soon as you stopped talking, you got up and was really prepared to lock into your room, take a deep breath, and calm your feelings down. But Dick is faster; he grasps your arm, stops you dead in your tracks, slightly pulling you into his arms. You wince, sore and still a bit hurt even when you can’t fully feel your arm. You quite thank it, given that where he is grabbing you seems slightly red. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to you stay”. He says, taken back; you can’t see it, but your eyes seem scared by his violent movements, the way he wants you to stay. He knows a small part of your life only, but he can imagine so much when your eyes look at him like a defiant small animal, terrified but putting a brave front. He feels like shit, you can tell quickly. “Please listen to me. I promise I’m not putting you in any position; I’m very aware of how inappropriate I am being, with my position in the Titans group and-and you being new. With what I said before I just meant I cared for you, (Y/N); deeply. I know it’s not been long, but I have strong feelings towards you. I’m not sure yet if they are because I see you as someone I deeply trust, or because you are something much more to me. But I know- I know I like you. And I want to do these kinds of things with you. Can I?”

           He asks permission, as he grabs your chin and pulls you closer. You won’t say no. Not because you can’t, but because you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this probably since the start and kissing him feels just like you imagined and so much more. It is like a fairytale finally savoring him: it’s sweet, it’s tentative and caring. There is warmth, no passion, just like you want it. His hands move quickly, almost possessively to your sides, slightly scratching the outside of your thighs, and you know what he wants to take, grasp. Almost like he knows, when you gasp as he moves his hands slightly, he stops touching you altogether, saying sorry quite quickly.

           “Just surprised, don’t stop”. You gasp out, going for his mouth again, with a bit more of passion. You feel his muscles underneath his training shirt, his masculine scent; he is safe, he is protection and trust at the same time. You have never cared too much about love in the situations of the like, but you need someone you can feel safe around, not judged. Trust. “I’ve wanted this as well. I just didn’t think you would want me, I’m a mutt”.

           When his blue eyes get to yours, he is heartbroken. He kisses your eyelids softly, with an extreme care. It almost makes you cry.

           “You are not a mutt. You are wonderful, caring, kind and noble. You have the warmest heart I have seen. You are intelligent, funny and just a tiny bit sarcastic. The right amount to actually offend me.” You laugh and he looks more relaxed. He is serious looking at you; his bronzed skin, sun-kissed and his perfect eyes piercing yours. Like he wants to make sure you know. You nod, slowly. “Don’t’ say you are a mutt, because you are not. You have been gifted an incredible ability; I just don’t want you to use it because you get hurt in the process. Nothing else; not because I think you would come off as weird or unnatural, (Y/N). You are beautiful. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but we don’t have to do anything. I can make you believe it other ways.”

           You kiss him back as an answer. It’s all he needs to know, all you really need to say. You still want it to happen naturally, but your hands are cleverer, know more, as they get under his shirt, touching his sides. He slightly shivers, making you botch chuckle, before he actually gets his shirt off. He tosses it aside but doesn’t instantly try and take yours as well. You kiss, deeply, tongues starting to intertwine and slight moans escaping your mouth.

           “You are driving me crazy, (Y/N). I have goosebumps”.

           “You are such a dork.”

           He laughs as well, and you stop kissing him just so that you can take off your shirt, revealing a grey sports bra; it’s not very attractive and you open your mouth, as a defense, to protect yourself from criticism. You expect it.

           “I will bring my lingerie for our next sparring session, I promise.”

           “What are you talking about? You are divine”. You feel hot, dizzy; no one has told you that. Not even in your first time, where you were supposed to lose your virginity in the midst of a teenage love hurricane. “You look so good it’s insane.”

           You giggle (giggle!) into his mouth as they meet again; but this time he is surer of his movements, he makes you step back, retreating into a more secluded area of the training room. He presses your back into the wall, slightly shivering and making you moan due to its coldness. He says “sorry”, as his thumbs play with your skintight pants, slightly pushing them down. It feels almost teenagerly as you moan into his mouth and fumble with his sweatpants, showing off a bulge against his grey boxers. It’s the sexiest thing you have seen, and you want to drop off your knees.

           “I want you to fuck my mouth”. You say, in the heat of the moment, still looking down at his underwear; and this is the moment where it changes, where Dick charges against you and starts eating your neck, his hands making their way into your bra.

           He is turned on. Maybe he didn’t know you were like this; you didn’t know he would be like that, either. You feel his hard fingertips almost tentatively graze your nipples once your bra is over your tits, discovered; they pinch them, slightly press them in, playing with them and making your stomach squirm of excitement, a slow build-up. Your knees press themselves together, but he makes his way in, separating them and making you sit on his, as his right knee presses into the exterior of your core, damping your underwear. You are wet; starting to be so, at least; the neck kisses are a weakness of yours. Quite audible and visible, one could argue, seeing as in trance as you are as he leaves marks on the skin, makes his way up to your ear where you obscenely moan as he turns you on, bites on it and whispers: “I want to make you cum”.

           “Fuck, Dick.”

           “If you want to.”

           You close your eyes, slightly chuckling, as his mouth makes his way down this time, his thumbs slowly taking the pants of you as his tongue gives some attention to your perked-up nipples.

           “They are divine. So unbearably cute and excited. All for me?”

           “Yes, yes. All because of you, for you.” Devour me, you could say, and he would bite with your hips squirming and your knees weak as he presses his knee again into your core, this time underwear fully sticking to your damp area. His mouth gets around your left nipple and bites down, gently; it makes you gasp quite loudly, your own hand trying to cover the sounds of your mouth. “Dick, I-“

           “I know. I wouldn’t have taken you as moaner, but I love it. So vocal, so sweet and cute. Just want to make you scream now, though. I want to see your blissed-out face.”.

           He is going to go down. You know it as he gets on his knees and his nose traces a way down your chest, to your stomach, and finally your pubic area. He takes your underwear down, dark, with his teeth, your stomach trembling and excited; you shiver, his tongue making his way up once your knickers are off the scene. He licks the interior of your right thigh, until he can almost taste you dripping on your thighs and onto the floor. It’s insane, but it’s been too long and Dick is giving you the right attention in all the right places, again licking a stripe up your left thigh, until he almost reaches a drip going down, leaving you hot and bothered, whiny.

           “Oh, please, please”. You beg first, quite quickly. He laughs, giving in and eating your thighs out, leaving out some marks and cleaning you, almost. But he never goes in, never touches you inside, your pussy still exposed and trembling, opening up almost in anticipation.

           “Please what? Eat or fuck you?”. His mouth. His dirty words get you off, almost, shivering and moaning. Both sound equally good, and you can feel yourself dripping a bit more, getting impossibly wet. It has never been a problem, but maybe after when it comes to cleaning-“Love, if you don’t say it-“

           “Fuck me with your fingers. Then fuck me”.

           His tongue seems like too much. Too intimate at the time. It will probably make you cum quite quickly, and you don’t want that yet. So he complies, his fingers getting covered in your lubricant before attempting to go inside. Relief is in your face as they get in, and you almost bend over him. He kisses your stomach, goes slightly down; he seems almost tentative, and you can feel he wanted to lick you up. Maybe he’s into it.

           “Next time”. You murmur; one of your hands tries to stick to the wall, to not fall onto him. The other one is on his hair, caressing him. His fingers are slowly getting deeper, two, and making you moan, close your eyes.

           “You are a bit tight, love. Nervous or-?”

           “It’s just been long, I’m just-not used to it. Please just fuck me.”

           The desperation in your voice is audible, and thus, he does not question it. He digs in a bit deeper, attempting to get three fingers, before he gives up, licking them out plainly in your sight. He, without you seeing it, has been palming himself; he is hard, twitching slightly in anticipation. You lay down on some mats that are piled up in the corner and open your legs, inviting him in: his eyes are bright, shine, as his forearms rest at both sides of your head. You would say it’s like a cage, but it isn’t: he’s not caging you, he’s protecting you from the rest of the world. He has been doing so, but offering you freedom from within. He is demanding for you to look at his eyes.

           “I’m not particularly big, but it’s going to take a bit to bottom out, okay? You don’t have to, sweetheart. Just tell me whenever it hurts, or at any discomfort. I want you to feel good.” He puts your pleasure above his, and you nod, signaling its fine; but you don’t fully know until his head gets in and you clamp down on him, feeling it foreign. It’s intense as he gets in, and your nails go into his back quickly, holding onto him. You trust him to be stable, resist as you press your fingertips only; he doesn’t tremble or budge, just moans out as he gets slowly in. “Fuck, (Y/N), I feel like a virgin”.

           You laugh out as you can, opening your legs slightly so that he can slide in easily even when you are completely closed down on him. He has to force himself a bit on you, but it’s worthy; he grazes something inside you that make you shout his name first time in the night, leaving you lax in the floor and completely open. He takes advantage, sliding himself until he is halfway there, your hips searching for him and gasping, feeling full.

           He moves just like that; cradles you almost, in a slow rhythm as he makes love to you in the floor. His arms are strong, and your hands hold onto them, almost desperately at times as he makes you moan again and again; eventually they get turned into shouts. He doesn’t get to bottom out, not completely; but you definitively can feel him in, as he groans and moans your name in pleasure.

           Like out of frustration, he turns you on the floor. Your nipples feel the warmth of the mat, your cheeks against it, in a submissive position almost, with your butt, almost automatically, in the air, on fours. He doesn’t press your head into it, but his hands take your hips like you are all his, all for his pleasure. He hasn’t gotten out, and thus he tries to get in a bit more as well; you moan, slightly out of pain, slightly out of pleasure, as he resumes his pace. It turns out to be mortal, as you get transformed into jelly, a moaning doll that cums twice under his touches, his bites on your nape and back, and the kisses in the middle of your back that make you tremble. You shiver, unable to maintain your own weight once you have cummed for a second time; he lets you rest, open your legs slightly more and relaxing as he stops, not budging in or attempting to go any further. It’s you the one that sits on his slap and almost fall onto him, clamping immediately down and almost cumming for a third time. You are so sensitive, you feel the orgasm on the border, on the brink; his pace is brutal, as you try to meet his thrusts up. The sound of skin against skin is the only thing audible, unless you are attentive enough to hear the little muffled moans by his hand; the only way to keep you down, as tears are making their way through your eyes, out of pure and divine pleasure. It’s too much, too much – and at the same time, it’s the perfect amount as he gets to come, moaning into your neck and eventually biting down your shoulder.

           He presses his forehead to that same spot, kissing it slowly as if asking for forgiveness.

           “I’m sorry, so sorry I hurt you, (Y/N). I just-“

           “I love you”. You say before, shutting him up immediately. It just takes him a second to response, looking more vulnerable than ever at your lips, your eyes.

           “I love you; just as much, if not more”. He confesses, kissing you deeply, full of care and love, respect as his hands caress both of your sides, again saying something similar to “sorry” to your body. He has not been violent; you can tell he has been containing himself, but you like that too. He cares. He is not like the rest. “Promise me you will come to my room tonight. Or I can come to yours, if you are fine with that. I don’t want you sleeping alone. I need you.”

           And no one has ever needed you like he does, like his voice shows, more vulnerable than ever.

           “Okay”. You mumble, too tried and pressing your forehead to him, kissing him slightly. “Come tonight. Only cuddles and pecks allowed, though. We are keeping it PG-13 for the tower, hm? ”

           “Whenever you are ready we can tell the rest. Under your rules, love.”

           And you think this time it will all be okay. As he hugs you closer, naked and trusting, you realize you love him, all of him; and maybe, as well, you know that you won’t be able to resist him or follow his promise. In a heartbeat, you would give your life for his.

[unprocessedissues]

Many people go "her redemption it was sooo rushed!" and what I think they mean is "I want 5 extra episodes of the characters making Catra make it up to them while she whips herself in repentance". As if being vunurable isn't like walking on coal for Catra "I must become a supervillain to hide my vunurability" Meowmeow

I have a lot of thoughts about this.

I think a lot of it comes from our world’s conventional view on consequences. In our world, there are courts, prisons, community service hours, fines and a lot of other avenues to sort of balance it out with the horrid things people do. If you take into account the type of world these guys live in, it doesn’t work that way. Bright Moon doesn’t have a designated prison. Mermista knows that Seahawk has committed arson and she herself has committed arson. The Crimson Waste is supposedly this deadly place where no one is there but you see there’s heaps of people there. They just choose not to leave. The only place explicitly shown to have any form of prison is the Fright Zone. This planet has a different culture than ours, one more rooted in kindness and forgiveness than anything else.

Watching Catra in Season 5, you can see that’s she’s uneasy. She knows she’s probably not welcome. The first one to say she wasn’t hated was Adora. Then Entrapta forgives her. Now, Entrapta doesn’t really understand a lot of what’s gone on emotionally but she knows the gist and I don’t think Entrapta would be one to hold a grudge on Catra because she made a friend in Beast Island and there is no patenting in this planet so stealing her work is just a matter of giving it back. Glimmer is more complex but I think she realises that she herself put Etheria in so much danger with Horde Prime that it would be too much to deal with Catra’s role in opening the portal whilst Etheria is literally being conquered. I’ll probably talk about this more in the future. Plus Catra did save her life despite it being for Adora.

On the general sense, Catra is always situated away from the crowd and only approaches when indicated that it’s fine to. She respects that the gang might be and in her mind and rightfully so, upset with her to say the least. She’s more careful around them. Netossa pins her to a tree and isn’t hostile about it. Perfuma tells her off about Scorpia and she knows to back down because she knows she fucked up. Frosta punches her and acts like how anyone would if they were randomly punched but Catra doesn’t retaliate. Catra knows she has to stick with Adora for the most part because she might make everyone upset. Catra refused to admit she was wrong up until the point she says sorry to Adora. And Adora puts it well when she speaks about “not facing the people you hurt”. It indicates that Catra is now well aware of how much damage she’s caused. And it’s recognising this that makes the arc so rich. The first step to even improving is knowing you messed up. She only jokes about the whole weaknesses thing after Netossa smiles at her when Catra assures her that Spinnerella would be okay. And to a worried wife, that means a lot. That gives them a connection. There are a lot more moments in which Catra shows she’s getting better and this would be too long but the thing is she is getting better. And all the others see that and a lot of the gang are actually emotionally mature to acknowledge that yeah Catra is getting better.

A lot of people associate redemption with some form of karma or like a balance. You gave pain to others then you should receive it too. But the thing is that’s not at all what it should be about, it’s about being better. That’s what ties it all around. The blowback on Catra wasn’t as strong because the characters surrounding her were emotionally mature to recognise that this is going to take time. She’s on a tight lease but in these dire times we can, for the moment, work together and deal with the messy stuff later. If anything, she has a lot to work on with Scorpia and Mermista and if they remember anything from their chipped versions, they’ve both had a decent hit on Catra. But again, priorities. They just got rid of Horde Prime. We can celebrate for a bit.

I think the main point of the ending is peace and hope. There’s no finality in the ending of the series. The BFS are going to go on a magic liberation trip and who knows what else might happen. Catra’s redemption arc isn’t over yet. She still has work to do. I actually wrote a plot for her apology tour that involves her approaching everyone without Adora and apologising because I knew Catra wasn’t done apologising yet.

This got a little way out of hand but Catra just has a special place in my heart. And I cannot even begin to talk about how Catra’s redemption arc becomes more complicated when you consider how much of the abuse from Shadow Weaver she has to deal with in the midst of all this.

Ps. The gang probably interacted with Shadow Weaver enough to realise that yeah she definitely fucked Catra and Adora up.

[kurowrites]

Letters From Beyond - Chapter 4: The Reply

AO3

---

How did one reply to a letter such as this?

Lan Wangji sat in front of an empty sheet of paper for far too long, and still he couldn’t think of a suitable reply. Hei was dozing now, apparently not in a hurry to return home after gorging himself on too many berries. Lan Wangji could take his time.

He considered the empty paper. What did Wei Wuxian want from him? What had he wanted to say by sending him a single line of text?

Wei Wuxian had answered every letter that Lan Wangji had written so far. Perhaps that was already answer enough.

He set the brush to the paper and started to write.

Wei Ying

I do not know how to reply to your letter, other than telling you that I do not wish to make you cry. It was the same then, too. I was angry, maybe am still angry now, though that is no excuse. I simply do not understand. I wish you would let me understand.

They call you a monster now. I have had the misfortune of hearing the stories they tell about you, how you eat children and hunt in the dark with glowing red eyes. But when I think back, instead of a monster I see you asking me to look at the ants in the courtyard because you thought they were cute. I do not understand. Your sister worries about you, and I wonder how you can subsist in a place like Burial Mounds. I wonder why you chose your own confinement instead of justice.

That was your wish, was it not. To be just and live without regrets. Are you without regrets now, Wei Ying? Have you chosen the right path for yourself? I have regretted not listening to you many times. Perhaps, if I had, your sister didn’t have to lament the absence of her brother on her wedding day. How can she believe you are still good when you are clearly guilty of the crime you are accused of? I do not understand.

Lan Wangji

He didn’t reread the letter, knowing full well that he wouldn’t sent it if he did. He folded it and placed it in front of Hei, so he could take it and choose to return home whenever he wanted. Then he cleaned his desk and went to take a bath.

He felt tense, harried. A bath might help to soothe his warring emotions.

---

The distance between Cloud Recesses and Burial Mounds was not inconsiderable even to a winged creature, and Lan Wangji couldn’t reasonably expect a reply before many days had passed. If Wei Ying was still willing to answer him, that was.

He knew he could do nothing but be patient, but despite his best efforts, he spent the next few days in a state of constant expectation, an impatience giving its way to irritation, making him more withdrawn than he already was.

Lan Xichen asked him if he was all right more than once. He only shook his head and assured his brother that he was, since he could hardly tell him that he was expecting a letter from the elusive Yiling Patriarch. He knew his brother wouldn’t judge him for telling him the truth, but he might want him to make the communication public. That, Lan Wangji could not allow.

He pondered over whether that constituted as a lie or not. But then, he had already broken another rule of his clan – do not associate with evil.

At the same time, Jiang Yanli’s words still reverberated in his ears.

Whatever he did, there is no doubt in my mind that he is a good man.

Could it be true? Or was it simply the denial of someone who wanted to protect themselves from the truth?

If this was about Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji would say the same thing without hesitation. He knew that his brother was a good man, that he would never draw his sword without reason. But Lan Wangji didn’t know the relationship between Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian, and he hadn’t known Wei Wuxian for long enough to truly know the depths of his character. He did not know if malice and falsehood hid behind the silly mask Wei Wuxian usually wore. He had no way of gauging that now.

He continued to debate the issue internally, until finally, Hei returned.

Lan Wangji found him hanging upside down from one of the tassels that held up the bamboo lattices in front of the windows of the Jingshi, amusing himself by gripping the cords with his feet and swaying back and forth.

“That is not a toy,” he chastised Hei. “I will give you some berries.”

Hei crowed in eager agreement, dropped from the tassel, and fluttered over to land on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. For such a large creature, he was surprisingly light, not at all what Lan Wangji had expected.

He went to fetch the berries he now always kept ready for Hei, and set them in a place he could easily clean up after Hei was done eating, careful to keep him far away from any more books he could destroy with a beak full of berry juice.

Once Hei was fed, he went to his desk. To his surprise, Hei hadn’t delivered just one letter this time. There were two.

He picked up the one that looked familiar to him now, the way it was folded saying “Wei Wuxian” more surely than any actual writing. It was, again, disappointingly short.

Lan Zhan

You say you do not wish to make me cry, and yet I must believe that you do. Telling me these things. That you of all people speak of regret, it pains me. I cannot regret what I have done. I still believe I made the right choice, and have chosen the right path. I have no proof, and so I hope that you believe me when I say that. Just… don’t blame yourself, please, Lan Zhan. This is my burden to carry. I shouldn’t keep writing to you, I know it puts you in a difficult position, but I cannot help it. I was serious when I asked you to be my friend, even though that can never happen now. I am so sorry. I knew when I saw you the first time that you were a special person, and I could not resist wanting to know you. If I had never met you, then I would be without regrets.

Wei Ying

Lan Zhan stared at the letter in shock. His heart was beating fast, blood rushing in his ears. What a letter this was!

He read the last line again.

If I had never met you, then I would be without regrets.

He put the letter down and closed his eyes, breathing deeply for long moments, trying to compose himself.

Me too, he thought to himself. If I had never met you, I would be without regrets, as well.

He fought for composure and reached for the second letter once he felt reasonably calm.

It was much longer than the first one, and as soon as he opened it, he could see that it was written by a different hand. It was also written in an entirely different style. It was properly addressed to him, as well, and contained the appropriate greetings and civilities at the beginning. The writer of this letter clearly wasn’t Wei Wuxian. It was Wen Qing.

He skipped over the general civilities and moved on to the main body of the letter:

Forgive me for being so frank, but I cannot stay silent any longer. Every time a letter arrives from you, Wei Wuxian is distraught, and it is worrying us to see him like this. He smiles and he acts like it is nothing, but I have never seen him as discomposed as when it comes to you.

My word may not be worth much in the eyes of the cultivation world, but I know that he will not tell you unless I do it first. Let me give you a true account of what happened that fateful night.

As you no doubt already concluded, I was sent as a spy to Cloud Recesses by Wen Ruohan himself, tasked with helping Wen Chao find one of the pieces of the Yin Iron. We knew it was in your possession, but were unable to retrieve it. I had my reasons for complying with Wen Ruohan’s orders, and I will make no apology for my deception.

At this point, we all believed that no one else was aware of the existence of the Yin Iron, and though we were pressed to retrieve it quickly, we weren’t much worried about anything else. That proved to be a major mistake. I do not know how he learned about our plans or where the Yin Iron was, but Jin Guangshan gained knowledge of it somehow. Since we were already suspicious and, compared to Wen Chao, relatively unimportant, he must have thought my brother and I convenient scapegoats. We were asleep when he snuck into our dorm that night, overpowered us, tied us up, and abducted us. He was smart about it, too. He knew how much my brother means to me, and he made use of that.

I don’t know the exact details of his plan, but I’m sure he wanted to make it look like the Wen sect stole the Yin Iron, and then planned to get rid of us once we had fulfilled our roles. Perhaps he was truly afraid that the Yin Iron would fall into Wen Ruohan’s hands. Perhaps he was simply greedy for his own share of power. Whatever it was, he showed no hesitation in stepping over a few dead bodies in order to get what he wanted.

He nearly killed my brother when I tried to disobey him, and he might have succeeded if it wasn’t for Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is a magnet for trouble, but it saved our lives that night. He had snuck out of his own dorm that night, to plunder the kitchen or sneak wine into Cloud Recesses or whatever foolish thing he tends to do when left to his own devices. He managed to find us just in the nick of time. He is an honourable man, and did not hesitate in defending us. He stood between Wen Ning and Jin Guangshan without fear or hesistation. Jin Guangshan told him that if he was decided on defending the scum of the Wen clan, he should die with them too. He was the one who drew his sword on Wei Wuxian. I am sure Wei Wuxian didn’t want to kill him, but he also refused to let us die. You know how the fight ended.

As Jin Guangshan finally lay dead, we panicked. Perhaps we should have woken you up, and relate the circumstances to you, but it all happened so fast, we had no proof that Jin Guangshan had been the perpetrator, and we were scared. I was a spy, after all. So we ran away, taking the Yin Iron with us because we were afraid it would fall into the wrong hands.

The Yin Iron is still with us. Rest assured that I would never hand it over to Wen Ruohan now. Wei Wuxian uses the Iron to keep us safe, but the effect on him is becoming more and more visible each day. He is not doing well. I worry how long he can keep doing this, before he destroys himself completely. He says he does it to keep us safe – me, my brother and the remaining members of my clan that have made it to Burial Mounds – so it is no burden to him. He is lying, however. He knows he is slowly destroying himself, and I know that he is trying to figure out how to make sure we stay protected once he dies.

I cannot go against him and protect him from himself. But maybe you can. That is why I thought you should know the truth.

Lan Wangji put the letter down. He noticed that his hands were shaking, but he couldn’t stop it. His heart clenched, and bile rose in his throat.

If only Wei Wuxian had called for him. If only– If only–

He reached for Wei Wuxian’s letter again, and read it once more.

I have no proof, it read. And then, that last line again.

If I had never met you, then I would be without regrets.

Tears rose in his eyes, and for once, he didn’t try to stop them from falling.

To lament for a person he barely knew.

He looked at the letter again.

No, he thought. No, you will not.

[efrmellifer]

Conflicted

Etien woke to hands—pleasantly warm ones, but still—tugging at her, turning her.

Still only half-awake, she grumbled, swiping weakly at the hands on her upper arm, a slight hiss entering her voice as she tried to form words.

“Etien, it’s only me,” Aymeric soothed, one hand leaving her arm to smooth back her hair, coming loose from her braid again.

She woke more fully, eyes opening. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You need not apologize,” he replied, sitting back. “I should have woken you a little more before I started moving you. But remember, the midwife said to lie on your side.”

“Was I on my back again?”

He nodded. “Easier to rise, I’d assume.”

“Getting up from any position is harder these days,” she said, a laugh folded into her tone as she tried to sit up. With some support from Aymeric and planting her hands behind her, Etien finally got herself upright, sighing. “Are Elezen infants really that large? Good gods.”

“Are Miqo’te kits not?” Aymeric had stepped away from the bed to dress for the day, but not before placing his pillow behind Etien’s back to prop her up.

“They develop in litters and our frames are smaller than Elezen women’s. So they have to be smaller. But I don’t have a frame of reference for comparison. Yet, anyway.”

“Neither do I, I’m afraid,” Aymeric sighed, discontented. “I was an only child who never knew his birth mother, and I never had the pleasure of a good relationship with my—ahem—progenitor, so I never really got up close and personal with babies.” He smiled. “Though that will change soon enough. In any event, are you uncomfortable? Are they that large?”

“It’s not actually that bad. We have moons to go before it should be that bad. It may well be that I haven’t been out and around as much, and it’s making my joints tighten up. Hard to tell when it’s all happening at once.”

“Well, you could take a walk through the Crozier. Perhaps the Firmament, if you promise not to got the Diadem. Or visit Fortemps Manor. Edmont will want to see you, I’m sure.” He thought. “Not much is really available to you in Saint Valeroyant’s Forum for now. The Proving Grounds might be a little too much, after all.”

Etien couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I admit I don’t want to see Chocobos getting hurt, but you know I’ve seen worse. Or do you worry I’ll start a fight with the proprietors?”

“You have seen worse, but you do not have to on purpose.

“Fair enough.” She shrugged.

Aymeric continued. “But all that is for tomorrow and on. Estinien is supposed to be coming soon.”

“I’m having a visit from the Scions, too,” she added.

“All of them?”

She shook her head. “A delegation. I don’t know how many, or who, that means.”

Aymeric sighed. “Well, I hope that goes well for you.”

“I hope so, too. I doubt it will be anything too bad. They probably just want to keep me caught up on goings-on around them.”

“Did they all split up again, taking off to their own corners?”

“It certainly sounds that way,” she replied, sighing just a little. “But I won’t know until they tell me.”

Aymeric paused, kneeling next to the bed. “Please be honest with me, Etien.”

She lifted her gaze from the covers to look at him, nodding.

“Do you feel trapped here?”

“No! No. This is my house. This is my home—er, living with you is the home part. The house is a house. I like it, but we could be in something smaller and I wouldn’t mind. I am frustrated by the fact that I can’t really go too far, but that isn’t your fault. Just a result of the wanderlust being bred into me, I guess.”

Aymeric’s brow knit.

“My mother’s family were seafarers until she met my father. I wonder sometimes if she ever lusts for the sea. And then, I haven’t really been allowed to settle down. Running around Coerthas, forging across the Ruby Sea, stumbling my way across the rift. Getting comfortable everywhere, and never staying.” She broke eye contact finally. “But you don’t need to hear my ramblings about it again.”

He took her hand. “I want to hear what you have to say. Though I suppose I should make my way to the Congregation before Lucia gives me another scolding about timeliness and what kind of man--” he shook his head. “Before I leave you, I need to ask again—are you comfortable?”

“I am. This is only just noticeable. Time to lace things more loosely, start thinking about wearing my nightgown open from the breastbone down.”

“What a sight. When your milk comes, will you wear the whole thing open?”

She clicked her tongue. “Aymeric.”

He gave her a grin, followed by a kiss, and headed out of the room.

“You didn’t eat anything!” She called to his retreating footsteps.

“I will when I get there!”

“It had better be more than a teacake!”

Silence.

“Aymeric!”

He was already out the door, laughing into a brisk, bright day.

_

Estinien, as everyone had come to expect, let himself in, striding to the main bedroom like he had a mission.

“Why look, a dragoon has come to call,” Etien mused as she closed her book, freshly dressed and her hair combed, the frayed braid redone.

“I hadn’t meant to interrupt.”

“Oh, you didn’t. I wasn’t getting very far in this, anyway. Aymeric was right, it is a disappointing read.” She put it down and turned more fully toward him. “How are you today, Estinien?”

He wasn’t sure at first why he flushed at her question. It was simple, the polite yet genuine asking after his health. But the little smile it was delivered with, that was what had him feeling like a schoolboy favored by the teacher.

“Fine,” he answered honestly. “I had been wondering whether the nursery had been begun yet.”

“We’re still talking about that. I think I want the cradle right next to our bed, so I can feed them and soothe them without getting up.”

“Just you?”

She laughed. “There are two sides to the bed.”

“I see.”

“If you want to climb into bed with us some night, you can help us, too. Though I think yes, just me doing the feeding.”

They settled into silence for a while, Estinien watching the sunlight move across the floor, and up onto the bed. Etien had gone from reading to knitting, needles flashing as the Deepwood Green yarn went from a tight ball to rows upon rows of stitches between her wrists.

“Is that difficult?” Estinien asked eventually.

“Not anymore. It was when I was starting out. If I tried to do any fancy stitches, I imagine it would be still. But I do this single basic stitch over and over, and it turns into blankets.”

They both looked at the blanket she’d made for Starlight, folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

“Have you ever tried to make anything else?”

“No. Maybe I should. But up until now, at least, I’ve chosen to leave the complexity to… other arenas of my life.”

Like a flash, Estinien remembered Tataru and Alphinaud’s trial by combat. He hadn’t been present, but he’d heard Haurchefant’s account of it at the Forgotten Knight the night it had occurred, while Etien slept off the adrenaline crash. Just as well; if she’d come along, she would have been too modest for Haurchefant’s liking. They may well have argued, the way close friends (or siblings) did. Not to mention, if she’d been there, Aymeric wouldn’t have been half as obvious about how interested he’d been in the whole matter.

Complex, indeed.

“It’s fine knitting. From what I understand, Dae is making clothing for them anyway. And the Domans sent over a few outfits?”

“Ah. That they did,” Etien beamed. “Hien gave some sort of explanation in the letter. Something about children of such special parents should have special clothing, if I remember correctly.”

“Special parents?”

“Well. Those were his words.” Etien’s ears drooped.

The house steward came in then, with a brief knock on the door. “A visitor for you, my lady.”

“Should I leave?” Estinien asked.

Etien shook her head, and combined it with a shrug. “Not if you don’t want to. Uh, send them in, please?”

A familiar pair of red ears ducked past the doorway first.

“Ah. Isn’t this the man who was calling to you in the Ghimlyt Dark?”

“It is,” Etien said hesitantly.

Estinien leveled his gaze at G’raha. “What do you need?”

“Estinien, it’s okay. He’s my friend.

With a soft “hmph,” he moved to the chair at Etien’s vanity table, leaving the chair by the bed open for G’raha.

“I didn’t realize you had a guest already,” G’raha commented, settling into the chair. He was still slightly awed by the house, by the fact that he was welcomed into the home of his hero, but when he looked at her, he was starting to see Etien instead of Etien Mellifer, vaunted Warrior of Light.

In the cheek markings and crinkled corners of her eyes, he saw Etien, who wore flowers in her hair every chance she got. Who had spent so much time in Il Mheg swimming and eating Pixie apples, and always kept ink and parchment on her. Etien, avid reader, kind-hearted adventurer, and apparently a knitter, if the needles at her side and halfway through a stitch were an indication.

“Estinien comes to mind me every so many days, so Aymeric has less to worry about. I enjoy his company, so I don’t dislike being minded. He does raise a good question, though, G’raha—it’s good to see you, but what can I do for you?”

“Ah, yes. The Scions--” he swallowed, searching for words as his throat bobbed. “We found something,   from before the Sharlayan exodus. So, something of Master Matoya’s.”

“And the Gunbreaker, Astrologian, Academician and mages you have at your disposal haven’t gotten a good look at it yet?”

G’raha tipped his head. “Why… didn’t you say their names?”

“To ask what you need a bard for.” She folded her hands, then thought better of it and folded her arms, accenting the new (but slight) roundness of her body. “Are they not more capable than I am, based on that?”

“But they aren’t you, Etien.”

“I thought you said they had accepted my needing a break.”

G’raha’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “I did say that. And they did!”

Etien nodded. “But you hadn’t found anything yet.”

“...we hadn’t found anything yet,” he repeated, sounding defeated. “We wouldn’t want to leave you out.”

“I think I’m okay with missing this,” she responded. “I’ll be having my own adventure, after all.”

G’raha sighed. “I know this. I have known this. But still.”

“Did they put you up to this, G’raha? If so, who of them? Maybe I can convince Aymeric to let me come talk to them about it.”

“It wasn’t them putting me up to it, it was all of us agreeing we shouldn’t do this without you.”

“Even if I asked you to just do it?”

“What if we made very sure to keep you safe? You won’t have to lead the charge like you usually do.”

Etien took a deep breath as she groped in her mind and heart for an answer. She finally arrived at another question. “Is that all?”

“That is all I came to say.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. I can see I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Before he could get up and leave, Etien reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I don’t want you to keep leaving my house dejected. Or worse, thinking I don’t care about you—or any of the Scions. Please, have some tea with me.”

Estinien rose. “Would it be ready in the kitchen yet?”

“It should be,” Etien replied with a nod.

When the cups were poured, she sighed, taking a sip. “G’raha, I’d like you to tell me something. Something only you would know. Lyna told me that you had seen a vision of me, when you were checking in on everyone’s futures, to be sure they had aligned with what you had known to be true before. What did you see for me? Lyna wouldn’t say.”

“I saw almost exactly what you said. You’re going to have your own adventure as a mother. And knowing that, as well as knowing what I did to you before you arrived on the First, I wouldn’t dare try to push you to do this now. But I also cannot stop asking. We need you. I know you think that isn’t so, but it is. The Scions have always needed you. Even if they don’t say it, even if you didn’t feel it. You’re needed. By Eorzea. By the star.”

Etien took a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “I’m getting tired. Estinien, can you make sure G’raha makes it out of here all right?”

“Of course.” As he passed by, he patted Etien’s hands. “Finish your tea and get some rest.”

G’raha felt more tense being paraded through and out of the Borel house by Estinien, but he was glad it just hadn’t come to fisticuffs. With the way Etien had reacted last time, and now with Estinien watching over both of them, he hadn’t expected tea and confirmation of their friendship still being intact.

But he couldn’t help but wonder what the Scions were going to do now.

She hadn’t said no, that was true. But she was not going to say yes.

_

The ending of every day was now even more similar to the beginning, Etien on her side as she and Aymeric caught up on their days without each other.

What a luxury. What a novelty. After so many days in the years before, where being apart meant staying apart, this was all they had wanted. And now they had it, night after night. Just another joy.

“So I hear it was G’raha Tia that visited again. What did he have to say?”

Etien’s ears flattened for a beat, then perked again, though not to their usual position. “Well, I wish he had only come to catch up. They all want me to come to the Dravanian Hinterlands, to go look at something they found of Matoya’s—the real Master Matoya, not Y’shtola’s alias from the First.”

“And you told him to remind them that you’re still on leave, right?”

“I did tell him, that, yes.”

With a gentle stroke of his fingers under her chin, he tilted her face up so he could see her better. “But, my dearest? It sounds like there was more to it.”

“He was insistent that I’m needed. He knows how well that works on me—appealing to my sense of duty. Of obligation. He’s right. I’m the Warrior of Light. A tool of the star, same as Minfilia ended up.”

“No!” Aymeric shouted, fist curling in the bed sheets. “You’re a full-worthy being, and the woman I love, and I won’t stand to see you treated this way.”

He’d regretted the explosion as soon as his mouth had opened, but looking at Etien now, he only felt worse. Oh, Fury strike him down.

She was tensed away from him and eerily still, eyes wide and starkly green from being wet with held-back tears.

This was what Estinien had meant when he described her freezing in the Churning Mists, during the argument with Ysale. She looked like she was waiting for him to keep yelling at her. Or worse.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled suddenly, wiping at her eyes. “I wanted to say no to G’raha, but I couldn’t—the Scions have always— I’m sorry, Aymeric.”

He reached out, but thought better of it. How much worse would they both feel if he touched her and she shied away?

“You have no need to apologize,” he said, voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m the one who’s sorry. And the Scions should be, for putting pressure on you like that.” Silently, he added, and Ellifer Nuhn, for ever making you so afraid of someone who loves you raising their voice. “May I touch you?”

She nodded, her body relaxing as she was shepherded into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Etien. I should never had shouted. And I won’t again.” He rubbed her back, listening to her sniffle. Was it foolish that he half wanted to go directly to the Vault and ask to have a confession right now? But he didn’t need the forgiveness of Halone, nor of Her mouthpieces wandering the See. What he needed was to make things right with Etien.

“It’s all right. I can’t fault you for passion.”

“But you might for failing to protect you when you can’t protect yourself.”

“I would never. We’re capable adults.” Her arms tightened around him, so he held her all the tighter, too.

“I am a man of my word, and ‘love and cherish’ means keeping you as safe as I have the means to. Means not poking at scars until they bleed.”

“Old habits die hard, but love never dies,” she replied, cheeks still wet as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. “It really is all right. Thank you. I love you, Aymeric.”

“And I you. More than tongue can tell.”

“Then no need to try. But we’ll need to talk about the Dravania problem after we’ve gotten some sleep.”

“If you want. I could simply contact the Scions myself,” he offered, voice quieter still for how close they were.

“I want to think it out fully first.” Etien explained, “with no one waiting for an answer, nor anyone preemptively making my choice.

“A good decision.”

“Shh, we need to sleep now.”

Aymeric kissed the side of Etien’s head, then ran his fingers down her back again. The star did need her. But so did he.

[pseudonymfox]

A lifetime

@Modern!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: We fall in-Love with 3 People in our lifetime… Each one for a specific reason.

Warnings: fluff, character-death, loss, emotions, anger, first love

A/N: It’s this accounts second birthday and here something to celebrate it YAAAY. Thats also gonna be a mini series ;) Tags are open!

First love: This love happens at a young age. You eventually grow apart or call it quits over silly things. When you get older you may look back and think it wasn't love. But the truth is, it was. It was love for what you knew love to be.

His name, Bucky Barnes. Childhood friends and neighbors thanks to your families since moving to Brooklyn at the age of three. You grew up and spend most of your time together, it was just natural for you to be something more at one point as your parents like to say. Both of you didn't saw that, of course until it was almost too late. But let's get back to the beginning... 

As you sat there in the background of the main dancefloor, looking down at all the students dancing together, some of them mixing liquor secretly into their drinks, shy freshmen standing awkwardly around, the popular girls who are probably gossiping about everything that gets into their sight and then there's you who sits further away with no date while waiting for your friend who even tho has a date doesn’t show up or respond to your texts. 

Bucky was even the one who convinced you to come and have fun with him and his date, basically as the third wheel. 

Neither him or you were really like fitting in any of the typical groups and as Sadie, the leader of the cheerleader team suddenly asked him to be her date, Bucky of course said yes, even after you told him she was just trying to make fun of him.

Not wanting to wait longer, you just got up as you saw perfect little Sadie enter the hall. All alone, so you walked her way. 

"Where's Bucky?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. She immediately looked you up and down. 

"Oh Bucky..yeah. I got asked out last second by Jason so I went with him." Sadie told you. "And you told Bucky right? Where is he?" 

"I guess he just figured that out himself. I don't know where he is and I don't care either" she said as it wasn't obvious enough before moving out of your sight and bumping not so innocently into you making you stumble to the side. 

Thinking that he must be at home, you walked out of the hall and went straight towards home in your way to uncomfortable heels. At least it didn't take you that long otherwise you would have taken the train. 

Much to your surprise Bucky sat outside waiting as if Sadie would still come around. It hurts to see him like this. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asked before giving you even a chance to say something. “I could ask yourself ask you that too” you chuckled, trying to lighten up his mood a bit. 

"I mean it (Y/N). Get back to school, at least one of us should enjoy it" he got off the stairs and back in the building. 

"I am not going back there if you are not there either. It's stupid anyway so why don't we do something instead?" With these words he stopped and turned hesitant to you, but also with excitement in his eyes. 

"Wait right there for a second" he said and rushed inside. Rolling your eyes you rubbed your arms up and down, it began to get kind chilly but before you had to stand there any longer, Bucky came back out again swirling a pair of keys around his fingers and a slight smirk on his lips. You knew these keys which worried you which Bucky should be too. 

"Bucky your dad.."you sighed concerned. His father wasn't the nicest Person, especially not Bucky. It's scary to meet him sometimes and he always tried to cut things short with him before his father would find a new reason to throw a fit. 

"It's going to be fine. Let's make this a good night's. Just the two of us" Bucky convinced you, but you were still wary. For a good reason. 

"But you dad. We both know what-" you stopped as this silly shushed you and held his hand over your mouth. 

"No 'buts'. Just get in the car (Y/N). If I destroyed your homecoming than at least let me make it up for it" he pushed you back around and opened your car door waiting for you to get in. Which you did and soon after you found yourself outside the City. The big skyscrapers disappearing in your mirror and the sky getting cleared up so you actually got to see stars which was so rare if you didn't get to do these kinda road trips as often as you wished it to be. One of a few more reasons to get out of there if you have the chance. 

"Why so far off Bucky. Did you secretly plan this?" You chuckled as turning your head back to him. 

"Maybe I did think that I didn't had to be one this homecoming dance all night long and take someone special out here who I knew would like it out of special reasons" he winked your direction, eyes switching from you and the street a couple of times. If you only knew Bucky thought to himself. While all you could think about Sadie not even deserving a single bit off of him. 

"I know you hate to hear this, but she is not worth it like at all. If I had the self confidence I wish I had then I would have beat this bitch up" you said, throwing both of you in a fit of laughter, that you made forgot the world with him. Driving off the main street you found yourself on a rather uneven road with nothing but fields surrounding it until Bucky hit the breaks, stopping the car which was a rather older truck that seemed to barely hold on to life. "Now? Is it your plan to kill me out here because of what I did to you years ago.." you joked with him in a deeper voice as if it was a old movie.

"Dork" he replied with a grin before jumping out and onto the back of the truck. Following right after him you stayed rather on the ground watching what he wanted to do next. 

"Care to join?" He asked after scattering some blankets onto the ground, holding his hand out to you and pulling you up to him. 

"And then he took that knife from behind his back-" joking again, he cut you off with a shoulder bump. Sitting down crossed legged you watched Bucky laying down and watching the sky turn colors from the orange, red sunset in the dark night, stars popping up here and there to light up the sky a bit. 

"I'm really sorry about today Buck" you laid off your silly attitude and tried to be serious at least for now. 

"Not your fault (Y/N). I didn't wanted to come in the first place remember. Don't remember why I changed my mind in the first place" he sighed out, one hand under his head and one at his side holding your. 

"Cause I wanted you to be there. See it's kinda my fault. I just wanted both of us to remember this kinda stuff" He probably didn't think about stuff like you did, but along some of your circumstances, you tried to make your school time somewhat nice for the both of you. "What kinda stuff do you mean?" Bucky said a bit quieter this time, turning his head to you. "You know..the usual stuff. What other normal people do. We just don't have that, no friends, we don't do clubs after school, no getting drunk or getting invited to anything" 

Maybe you ranted a bit too much but school is hard and life outside school is harder. Bucky sat up now, releasing this is not you joking around with him and that you spoke this with honesty. 

"What is so wrong with this. Not perfect, but who cares and we don't need that either" he told you making you look back up while holding your hands in his. Now you never really thought much about the little things, but it showed you more and more that there might be more to that friendship with him. Inching closer you wanted to take the next step, giving yourself a kick to kiss your best friend "because we have each other?" Mocking him a little too much, Bucky went to stand up again. 

Great job you thought to yourself. 

"We should go now. Don't wanna be late. My dad has work soon" he sighed out going back inside and starting to drive back home. 

Bucky didn't like to show it much, but he got nervous around his dad, knowing how he can be and what he can be. His knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel too tight, overstepping the speed limit just a tiny bit, all these details showed his fear. As he parked the car you both practically jumped out the car. Pacing back inside. 

"Bucky if..I mean if something happens, you come over alright?" you stuttered out before he could go back inside, not wanting him to be late, but you need to remind him that you're there for him even if he knew that. 

"I know. Thank you for tonight (Y/N)" bucky kissed your cheek. 

"I should thank you Buck" you could only reply before you both went inside your homes. Still worry lacing thoughts, you tiptoed into your room and got into bed as soon as possible for a good night sleep and well deserved rest after saying a quick apology to your parents. 

And in the middle of the night you woke up by the slight background voices, yelling and other loud noises that didn't sound too far off. Standing back up from your bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to look what is going on in the hallway, even if you had a bad feeling about what it could be as the voices got clearer. 

"Don't you dare come back inside!! If I am losing my job because of you than you might as well be the one who takes care of that family!!" you understood now and heard the familiar voice yelling. 

A quick look outside you wanted to check things, but with shock you saw Bucky is sitting outside his door. 

"Bucky?" You asked softly, but as he turned to your voice coming the hallway you noticed his bruised eye, cut on the cheek and lip. Blood running down the side of his face. With that you got outside and walked up to him. 

"Oh my god Bucky.." you whispered and hunched down to him. 

"It-It's fine" he whimpered a bit, shaken up and hurt. That was by far not the first time. His mother was a sweetheart, but to scared to do something. Having enough of sitting there you helped him up and took him to your place. Your parents knew about that, but never really said anything. Sitting him down on your bed you returned from the bathroom with your first aid kit and a some frozen peas to cool it. As you stitched him and cleaned the blood off of him you were the first one to say something again. 

"I shouldn't even let you go back inside there" you told him silently. 

"You don't have to think that everything is your fault" he stopped your hand from holding the peas onto his face that started to slightly burn. 

"We should go to bed now. Let's talk tomorrow alright" you asked him, but he only hunched over and laid back under the covers, you beside him with your eyes already dropping not being fully there anymore until Bucky just got closer and kissed you. Wincing a bit as his face stings. Somehow with everything going around you, careless and abusive parents, no friends, school barely surviving. This was the only thing that felt really right. 

Bucky was and always is your best friend. The one you could trust no matter what. Since that night somehow it didn’t really change much besides the actual couple stuff and spending even more time together if that was even possible at that point. It’s both of your last year in school and you talked about what happened afterwards since you got accepted at a college in atlanta and Bucky wanted to stay home and help his family out since his Mom got sick and can’t work anymore. You’ve been understanding but what he didn’t know is that you are scared for what might come. New York isn’t just around the corner if you would wanted to keep this upright. Of course it's not just the relationship, it’s your whole friendship. There wasn’t anyone else like Bucky for you. 

“I have a present for you” Bucky came in your room with an envelope in his hands. He looked way to excited as he gave it into your hands waiting for you to open it. 

“Did I forget some special day if yes, then since when do we do that?” you asked suspiciously. Opening it you saw a flight ticket towards New York. It made you rather emotional than happy.

“We haven’t talked about it yet but we gotta at some point and I am fully in this relationship if you are too” 

“That was so cheesy, you hated that didn’t you?” you laughed with a quiet sob, not holding your emotions in really well.

“Yes I did but I showed you where I am standing. I also got myself a ticket to Atlanta so we can switch things up” he said showing the other ticket in his pocket.  “It’s going to work (Y/N)” 

You hugged each other with a following kiss and that gave you some kind of hope.

This sadly not everlasting last year came to an ending. All your stuff was already packed up in boxes and on it’s way to your dorm thanks to your parents who told you they would drive down there themselves while you are waiting for your flight with Bucky by your side. Time to say goodbyes.

“I think that is the longest we won’t be able to see each other” you have been crying multiple times before so you tried to stop that but tears kept coming the whole last week. 

“We said no more crying alright? Just a few months. We can do this” Bucky said but his eyes were also red and his cheeks stained. Nothing helped this right now and neither did as your flight was called up.

“Time to go. See you soon alright. Call me when you landed.” he kissed you another time trying to make it last forever until you had to cut it off to catch a breath. 

“I love you Bucky” you said with another peck on his lips. 

“I love you too (Y/N)..so much” he hugged you tight before you went to walk away, looking another time back to him with a big smile on your faces to comfort each other as you walked to the doors. 

College was harder than you thought and getting really into this life might be almost harder, you had a roommate but she was not really open minded to making new friendships. One time she punched a hole in the wall cause something was wrong with the pizza she ordered. Classed kept you from anything really. Sleeping, eating, calling your boyfriend or getting some time for yourself. Bucky on the other side found himself a job and couldn’t call you as much as you both liked too. If you had the time it wasn’t long and you didn’t know what to say sometimes. It was mostly complaining about your life and problems. It brought back the fear you had as you left which turned into anger that added to your thousand other problems. One day as you were in class, Bucky called which was surprising since he worked normally at this time and he knew you classes at this time of the day. It must have been urgent you thought and went outside with your stuff as quick as possible and took the call. “Bucky? Shouldn’t you be working?” you asked waiting in front of the door hoping to get back inside, not wanting to fall behind in every single class.

“Uhm it’s George, listen I don’t know why he didn’t call earlier but tomorrow is Winnies funeral. She passed a few days ago..” Bucky’s dad told you over the line, out of shock you almost forgot to reply. How could he not tell you that? But that didn’t matter right now. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that sir. I’ll be there of course. Thank you for letting me know”

“No problem. I’ll send you the info. See you then” were his last words before hanging up. It took you a moment to realise all of this. His Mother always treated you as you were a part of this family. So nice and respectful didn’t even your parents treat you. Your last two classes have been hell and you could barely concentrate on any of the subjects. As soon as you got back to the dorm you packed a bag and went to the airport trying to get the next flight with one of Bucky’s tickets. Luckily one was right on time so you would land in New york in time and you did but the traffic there was as always horrible. Cursing at the cab driver a couple of times actually helped as he practically threw you out at the church where the funeral is getting held. Scurrying down the path you saw them already walking away, cursing under your breath you could punch a tree right now. Bucky still didn’t turn around and his father only gave you a slight nod as he walked also past you. Taking that as a hint you walked carefully up to him. “Bucky..” you said not even getting out as secure as you thought your voice would be. Turning with widened eyes towards the sound of your voice you could see the hurt written all over his face and body language. There weren’t words that came to either your minds as he took a big step towards you, who took him in a big hug as he sobbed quietly in your shoulder. Standing there for a while you just enjoyed each other presence giving him as much time as he needed and wanted. 

Later on you sat down with him a little bit away on a bench. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Bucky. I mean I know it got worse with her the last month and that might be not the right time to talk about that but.. I just thought we can talk about that?” you asked him.

“I just couldn’t think about anything and you just haven’t been there” he said and let go of your hands. 

“What? I mean I understand but just because I am not here doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me or I am out of this world” you tried not to get it to your head and take that with respect towards him. 

“Yes it does (Y/N). I don’t know if you noticed but since you have been in Atlanta, everything went straight downhill and you can’t tell me that everything stayed how it is. It’s just not the same” Bucky raised his voice a bit and each of that words cut into your skin making you almost think it’s your fault what happened. Thinking that it’s just been a harsh few months for him you tried to comfort him some more by just simply holding his hand but something in him snapped with your next words. “I understand Bucky-” you could only brought out. 

“No you don’t understand, you don’t! Why did we think that works out so well?” he stood up, pacing up and down in front of you. 

“You were the one who gave us this hope by buying the tickets?” you snapped back at him. “I mean the whole relationship. Why destroying the friendship when we knew about college and all of that” Bucky started to yell at some point.

“Don’t say that because you don’t mean that!” you replied trying to calm him. 

“But it’s the truth. Tell me why we did that? Couldn’t have stayed the same because that would make it much easier. It was all so silly..” he swallowed hard, realising how wrong the words might sounded and with this you understood, even you told yourself the whole time that this was only the circumstances right now. But that simply went too far.  

“Then I am going to make that much easier for you since I am that much of a pain in the ass. Hope you never have to see me again” you threw the flowers you bought at him and left. Never looking back again you told yourself.

Everyone keeps thinking the first love is the one forever until it breaks your heart for the first time. Later you will eventually learn the true meaning behind this...

Feedback appreciated!

Tags: @escapetheschackles / @racheo91 / @haru-ririchiyo / @memory-of-a-goldfish / @1967-chevy-impala-called-roscoe / @learisa​

[kumkaniudaku]

The Love Tonight (2)

The Love Tonight (1)

From the moment dinner ended, prepping and planning for the big night during the week continued to evolve into a beast that Chadwick could not contain. His assigned job was to "show up and look good," instructions that were relayed to him on more than one occasion. This left him in the dark about anything that did not involve his wardrobe and Noah's babysitting plans. 

So, as he sat in the living room bouncing his son from knee to knee to pass the time, his mind swirled with all of the possibilities the night held. The first of his questions were answered when the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floors grabbed his attention. 

Instead of dresses, Tasha decided to take her stylist's advice and indulge in the blazer trend of the summer. Naturally, Micah followed suit, making the mother-daughter moment event more adorable. Teal and bronze tones were the motif of the night with both outfits fitting the scheme in their unique ways. Micah dazzled in a kid-friendly relaxed suit that perfectly fused her parents' tastes. While the teal blue suit was one that her father was no stranger to, the bronze heels and accessories were her mother's touch. 

CoCo took the cost-efficient chic route and used a very familiar piece to her advantage. After learning that the Versace blazer he husband donned at the NAACP awards earlier in the year was part of the women's line, she made sure it was available to repurpose and reuse. The beautiful animal print across the garment was perfect for the Lion King Carpet, and by choosing to forgo a shirt and show a little skin, it was also age-appropriate. The bold top paired well with a simple pair of trousers that matched the shade of blue accenting the print and bronze accessories. 

It was Micah's idea that she be allowed to wear her hair free and curly while Tasha made sure to make a trip to the barbershop to sharpen her growing tapered cut. 

"Well, would you look at what we have here? I feel like I need to change." Chadwick was careful to pass Noah along to Yvonne before making his way over to his favorite set of women. Stopping at his wife first, he took a moment to trace his finger down the necklace draped in her cleavage. "Who gave you permission to come out and slay like this?" 

"Slay? Is that how we talkin' now," she laughed. "Thank you, baby." 

"I vote thumbs down, Chad. Not a good look." 

As he fixed his mouth to reply to Yvonne with a snarky remark, the small but dramatic clearing of someone's throat caught Chadwick's attention. 

"Now...where did that mighty roar come from? I don't have any lions!" 

"It's me, daddy! Down here!" 

In true dad fashion, Chadwick kept the charade going to keep Micah laughing for as long as possible. Finally, he acknowledged her with a surprised look etched across his face. 

"Wha- Mikey, is that you? I thought you were a pretty lion with all that hair!" 

"Like Simba?" 

"Just like Simba. You look nice, Princess." 

"Pretty enough for pictures?" 

"Of course, Princess." 

Even on a strict schedule, time was made to capture the family as a unit for personal memories and individual social media accounts. For a child that had only been to one Hollywood event in her entire life, Micah handled the moment with the grace of someone ten times her age. She spent most of the ride alternating between taking cute filtered pictures with Tasha and singing songs from the movie's soundtrack with Chadwick. When the car for the night approached the venue, and all of Hollywood's elite came into view, both parents could sense their first born's excitement. 

"We get to go in there with all those people," she asked, her hands and face pressed against the heavily tinted window. "Do they know our names?"

"Maybe. Are you scared to get out, Princess? Do you want me to carry you?"

Tearing her eyes away from the scene, Micah whipped her head around to her father and scrunched her face, "I'm in first grade. I know how to walk." 

"I told him the same thing, Boop. Daddy's silly. Let's go."

Chadwick sat back against the cool leather of his seat with a hilariously incredulous look plastered on his face as Tasha helped Micah exit the vehicle. It took Micah's repeated urging for him to join her side and start on the path toward the red carpet. 

The flicker of cameras around them paled in comparison to the wonder shining through Micah's eyes. Every step of the way she marveled at the gowns that glittered under the setting sun, comparing the men and women she walked past to King's and Queens. 

"Mommy, she has hair like me!" 

"Don't point, baby. That's rude."

"But look! Her hair is like mine! Look!"

While Chadwick answered questions from a nearby reporter, Tasha followed her daughter's finger across the way to see the object of Micah's affection. 

"What's her name, Mommy?"

"That's Shahadi Wright-Joseph. She plays little Nala in the new movie." She half smiled as Micah watched Shahadi's every move, even mimicking some of her actions. Stooping down, she became eye level with the oldest Boseman child. "You wanna go say, hi?"

"Does she know my name?"

"We can go and tell her. You wanna?"

Her hair bounced rapidly with her nodding before Micah linked her hand in her mother's and tugged her along. Shahadi noticed the pair right away as they approached, paying particular attention to the little girl with a special twinkle in her eye. 

"Wow, look at your pretty hair," she exclaimed. "You are so pretty. What's your name?"

"Micah Noelle Boseman. I like your dress."

Both Tasha and Shahadi laughed at her emphasis on her entire name. 

"Thank you! I like your purse. What do you have in it?"

"Cheetos and popcorn for a snack!" 

"I think I need to sit by you. I might get hungry." 

Opening her purse, Micah pointed to its contents, "You can have some. I can share!"

"You're the cutest! Can I take a picture with you?" 

Micah happily accepted the request before proudly displaying the few teeth the tooth fairy had yet to claim. 

"It's like looking into the future," Chadwick commented as he approached CoCo's side. "Remember when she was a baby? Now we almost have a kid in double digits." 

"We should have one more for old time's sake." 

Chadwick's bewildered response became nothing more than an unintelligible whisper amid chaos. Instinct prompted Tasha to pull Micah close to her side as the people around them began a mad dash to clear the walkway for a presence that she could not see. 

"If you knock her down, your ass is next," she directed toward a hasty cameraman who quickly apologized. "What the hell is going on?" 

"I think somebody important is here." 

All eyes were fixated on the red carpet to get a glimpse of the guests of honor. In matching blazer ensembles, Beyonce and Blue Ivy strode past the crowd like royalty. Tasha hadn't considered the possibility that her best friend in her head would be present, let alone 20 feet away from her with screaming fans shouting at her from all directions. 

"Baby, do the thing," she urged her husband as she bumped her elbow into his arm. 

"What? What are you talking about?" 

"Be famous and get her attention. Tell her to come over here!" 

"T, she knows who you are. Just say, hi." 

"Hi, Ms. Beyonce!" 

Micah's high-pitched voice seemed to boom above the chatter around them, catching Blue's attention before Beyonce's. When she looked over to wave back, her eyes lit up at the sight of Tasha and Chadwick awkwardly standing behind their excited child. 

"Hey, y' all!" A quick sidestep and shield of protection from security brought the entertainer closer to the Boseman family. "Oh my God, y' all should've told me you were coming. We could've set something up." 

"We still have time," Tasha blurted, unable to keep her words tucked behind her lips. Chadwick gave her a cheeky side-eye and a half-smile. He'd never known her to be nervous when meeting new people, so the opportunity to see his wife flustered for even a moment was a sight to behold. 

"You sure, baby? What about the kids? 'Vonne has-" 

"She'll understand. We talked already." 

"When?" 

"You know, when…" Tasha's voice began to trail at the tail end of her sentence as she searched her brain for an adequate lie. "We talked. Don't worry about it." 

Beyonce looked between the couple with an amused glint in her eyes and smiled, "I'll take that as a yes from the Mrs." 

"And a yes from me!" 

"Is that right, pretty girl? Are you, Miss Micah? You know, I've heard a lot about you!" 

Micah latched on to the star's outstretched hand and smiled. "I know your songs. Me and my mommy saw you on TV really late at night. Daddy said to go to sleep, but we just got real quiet, so we could still dance." 

"Is that right," she laughed. "Did you like the songs?" 

Tasha and Chadwick braced themselves for Micah to blurt lyrics or begin her "special" Formation choreography but found her sporting a grin that stretched across her entire face and nodding her head. 

"All of them! I listen to them in the car before school." 

"What if I told you I made a song for you? Would you be happy?" Micah looked back to her parents for confirmation, finding confused looks from both of them before turning to Beyonce. "I can't wait until you hear it. It's all about your -." 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Carter, but we have to keep moving. They need you all seated soon." 

Acknowledging the comment, Beyonce made sure to bid the Boseman family a proper goodbye before disappearing down the remainder of the carpet. They received similar instructions soon after before being ushered into the Dolby Theatre for the main event. 

Micah buzzed in her seat before the lights could go down inside the theatre, eventually settling for her father's lap for a better view. From the opening song, she was utterly mesmerized by the sights and sounds of The Lion King's newest visuals. She sang along to every song uninhibited, often charming viewers around her into joining the fun. By the end of the film, through light tears and laughter, Micah was the first to lead the room's applause. She couldn't wait to break free from the shackles of forced silence inside the theater to voice her praise for the film. With her father's shoulders acting as her preferred mode of transportation, the little ball of energy began a full breakdown of what she'd just witnessed. 

"And-and the pig was so funny. He did the thing like you, Daddy. He was like 'WARTHOG'! Did you see it? Did you?" 

Laughing, Chadwick reached up to playfully tickle her sides, "I saw it, baby girl."

"Mommy, you're like Nala! Except you can't sing, 'cause that's Ms. Beyonce singing. Can we be Lion King for Halloween or is Daddy still in trouble for hitting the clown?" 

CoCo felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as she fought back the urge to cackle at her husband's expense. Clowngate had been a sensitive subject around the family that Chadwick had yet to escape. 

"Of course we can. Daddy can be Zazu so he doesn't hurt anybody with those claws." 

"I feel like we can let the past be the past now," Chadwick retorted, side-eyeing his wife and earning another stifled laugh. 

Micah continued to rattle off high points of the night as they entered the car and started their journey home. Naturally, she requested the movie's soundtrack as entertainment during the ride, demanding that all of the car's occupants join in for an off-key cover of Hakuna Matata. 

In the middle of the song, Micah quietly wrapped her arms around Chadwick's midsection and squeezed with all of her strength. 

"Thank you, Daddy. I love you soooo much!" 

Something about the way she hugged him with pure appreciation and sincerity made Chadwick tear up as he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. 

"I love you, too, little one. I love you, too." 

Tasha observed the moment with a smile, preferring to remain a spectator to allow time for necessary bonding. These were memories that both of them would cherish for the rest of their lives. That knowledge was enough to produce a permanent smile on her end. 

When Chadwick looked up and away to stop his tears from falling, he caught a glimpse of his wife, who grabbed his hand to run her thumb across his knuckles before adding a soft kiss. 

"You're the best dad ever. Don't ever forget it." 

He offered quiet thanks before kissing her cheek and resting his chin on top of CoCo's head. The opening flutes and vocals gave way to melodic vocals from Donald Glover and Beyonce's cover of Can You Feel the Love Tonight, gently lulling everyone into a comfortable silence. Chadwick took a look out of the car's sunroof to get a glimpse of the stars dotting the onyx sky above them. As he stared, he tried to commit each one to memory for a day when being a dad or a partner wasn't so easy. This was a moment Chadwick knew he would cherish long after the kids were grown and out of the house. 

The soft buzz of his phone drew attention to a text from the last number he ever expected to see. 

You two got out of there fast. Still coming out later? Would love to have you two. 

Secretly reading the message, CoCo nudged his arm and shook her head. 

"Not this time. We'll have other chances, right?" 

Chadwick silently agreed before quickly typing out his apology for declining the offer. After taking a final glimpse at the night sky and giving thanks to the Creator, he closed his eyes to listen to the song's final chorus. 

"Can you feel the love tonight? The peace the evening brings? The world, for once, in perfect harmony…"

------

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[calligraphist-artemisia]

I’ll Take Her Place (Chapter 26)

Summary: AU. When Allura breaks the news that she is to wed Prince Lotor in order to continue the peaceful relationship between Altea and Daibazaal, Pidge knows that she has to do something to change that. And so, with a little help, she comes up with a new plan. A better plan Rating: T Pairings: Keith/Pidge (main) ; Shiro/Allura (minor) and Hunk/Lance (minor) ; one-sided Lotor/Allura

Note: Just one chapter left!

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the username kishirokitsune

Chapter 26

Allura crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the half-Galra woman sitting in one of their nicer holding cells. So far she'd been nothing but cooperative with them, raising no fuss as Kolivan questioned her and being, as far as they could tell, truthful with her answers.

“Are you certain this is wise?” Allura asked.

“Wise or not, she has asked to speak with you,” Kolivan replied. He hesitated and then said: “I do not see harm in it.”

Allura went in, unsure of what to expect from Acxa. The half-Galra woman warily looked up as Allura sat down across from her.

“You wanted to speak with me?”

“I want to tell you everything that I know,” Acxa said, her voice hoarse from hours of talking to Kolivan. “You should be the first to hear of Lotor's plans for you.”

Allura repressed a shudder. She knew she needed to hear it, however much she knew she wouldn't like what Acxa had to say. “I know that he wanted to marry me and expected I would go along with his idea of ruling the universe.”

Acxa inclined her head. “He became obsessed with the idea in the end. He believed that with you by his side and the power of Oriande, he could rule everything. He said it was the way things should be.”

“Power of Oriande... I don't understand what sort of power he expected to find there. The sages believed in peace. Their knowledge was related to giving life, not taking it,” Allura said, realizing a moment too late that she may have given away more then she intended. There was an easy fix for that. “At least, that's what the legends say.”

“Lotor thought there was something more. Something hidden.” Acxa sighed, her eyes tired as she met Allura's gaze. “He never trusted us with all of his plans, but I've stood by his side for years and have heard more than he meant for me to. He never talked about it in great detail, but I know he was looking for a power source greater than anything the universe has seen.”

Allura frowned. “And he thought he could find it in Oriande?”

“He thought it was the cause for the war between Daibazaal and Altea, ten-thousand years ago. Or else led to the end of it. Either way, he said it was hidden away in Oriande, so no one could use it.”

“And where do I fit in with all of this?”

“You would be the key to open the door.”

Allura took a moment to mull over Acxa's words. While it was clear that the other woman wasn't completely sure how it all linked together, it was enough for her.

She could remember Lotor being fascinated with the war when they were younger. Back then he'd expressed bewilderment over how two civilizations who were such great allies could turn on each other. His solemn vow that he would never let such a thing happen once he was emperor. Those peaceful days when they had few responsibilities and were able to be themselves...

Allure missed that Lotor. The one who had been her friend.

But he had changed. She'd known that for some time, and with recent events she knew there was no chance of redemption for him. The fond memories they once shared were tainted.

“Princess Allura?”

“Apologies,” Allura said, pasting on a smile. “Thank you for telling me all of this, Acxa. It has been most insightful.” She stood up to leave, pausing to look back only when Acxa spoke again.

“He hasn't always been like this.”

Allura's heart went out to her. “I know. That's the worst part, isn't it?”

Acxa's broken expression remained with Allura for the rest of the day.

Keithir hadn't been able to sleep well after everything that happened. He spent two nights in bed, staring at the ceiling and running through all of the sleep techniques he could think of. He counted to one hundred. He counted backwards from one hundred. He closed his eyes and tried to meditate. He even tried to ask Red if there was anything she could do to help.

Nothing worked.

He would sleep for a few hours, wake up, and then struggle to fall back asleep for thirty minutes, only to repeat the process a few hours later. He had to catch naps during the day while he was meant to be bonding with his Lion. Twice he'd dozed off while someone was trying to talk to him.

By the third night, he'd fallen back on his habit of wandering the halls by himself, though after everything that had happened he no longer felt comfortable doing so in his human form. There was no safety in it, as they'd hoped. Somehow, Lotor knew about his ability to shift forms all along.

He let his mind drift as he walked through the quiet halls. It wasn't so late that there was no one around, but the few servants he passed just nodded to him and carried on their way.

His parents would be arriving in a few days, along with representatives from their allies who wanted a firsthand account of Lotor's trial. Earth had been chosen as the perfect neutral ground for it, despite the best efforts of the Daibazaal council to have their prince returned home. No one else wanted to risk Lotor finding his way out of imprisonment. Not even Zarkon and Honerva.

Keithir felt sick whenever he thought of seeing his parents. Lotor was their son; their firstborn. However much bad he'd done, they couldn't be happy with the way things had gone.

He looked up and realized he'd walked all the way down to the Red Lion. A reassuring purr rumbled through their bond, along with a sort of smugness that left Keithir confused until he heard light footsteps approaching.

Katie.

“You can't sleep either?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Haven't been able to since we got back. I'm surprised you're not working on something.”

“I can't focus on anything right now,” Katie admitted. “I thought I would feel relieved once we had concrete proof against him, you know? And it's not that I'm not glad that we finally do, it's just... I don't know. It's hard to put it into words.”

Keithir knew how. “Because it isn't over. Not yet.”

There was still time for Lotor to slip his way free, and that unspoken fear lingered in the back of all of their minds. During the day when there were things to do and everyone was awake, it was easy to push those thoughts aside, but at night with fewer distractions, it could creep in, even if they weren't directly thinking about it.

“We should do something fun,” Katie said after a minute or two.

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Well, I may be grounded from taking Greenie out for fun, but you are not,” she said, grinning up at him.

Red's eyes lit up at the suggestion and she lowered her head, urging him to agree. He could feel her anticipation at getting to fly freely, as well as the slightest hint of mischief, as though she was planning something and wouldn't tell him until it was happening.

Between Katie and Red, it was easy to agree. And if anyone asked why they went out, he figured he could just say it was a bonding activity. (That was a thing they did, right?)

He pretended not to notice Katie overriding security clearance on the hangar door and then they were off, zipping out into the darkening sky. He hoped that if anyone saw them, they wouldn't immediately report it to Allura, or worse, Kolivan. It would be nice if he could spend a little bit of time with Katie, without being in danger or interrupted by anyone.

“Do you always go joyriding in your Lion for fun?” Keithir asked.

“Only when I can't focus on anything else,” Katie replied. “I have to admit, I have an ulterior motive for wanting to do this. I think you'll like it.”

Keithir glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. Whatever she was planning, his Lion was obviously in on it. “Do I get a hint?”

Katie shook her head. “Sorry, but that would ruin the surprise.”

A surprise.

For him.

His stomach swooped with a mixture of joy and astonishment. If there was ever a sign of proof that Katie was moving past her anger, that was it. And maybe that was another piece to his inability to sleep properly; the worry that Katie still harbored resentment towards him for lying.

Some of what he felt must have leaked through their bond, because Katie rested her left hand on top of his right and gave him a reassuring smile, but Keithir didn't notice that. His eyes were on the familiar dark band around her finger.

“You're still wearing the ring,” he said, his mouth dry.

Katie lifted her hand and fondly rubbed her thumb over the smooth metal. “When you asked me to marry you, was it because you wanted to or because you thought you needed to? Because... Because when I said 'yes', that was for me. I said yes, because I wanted to marry you. I still do.”

Pure ecstasy swelled in his chest at her words.

Katie wanted to marry him, just as much as he wanted to marry her. He could feel it. Her side of the bond was open for once, letting her emotions flow through their bond.

All Keithir could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her. It would be the perfect moment to give in to his desires. Their desires.

He raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I think we're here,” Katie whispered.

Disappointment swept through Keithir as Katie closed off her side of the bond and turned away to see where Red had landed. It hadn't been a long journey at all. And as he looked around, all he could see was the same desert and plateaus that were near the Galaxy Garrison. What was so special about where they were?

Down, Red guided him.

He leaned forward for a better look. At Red's feet was a small, wooden house, with a single tree out in the yard. There was a light on in one of the windows.

“What is this place?” Keithir asked.

“You helped me reunite with my family. I figured it was only right if I did the same for you.”

Keithir's lips parted in surprise. He watched as the porch light cut on just before the door opened and a man with dark hair stepped out onto the porch, staring up at the Lion with wide eyes. “Dad,” he whispered, already feeling the sting of tears in his eyes.

The next minute was a blur to him as he hurried from the cockpit, his feet kicking through a thin layer of dry sand and rock  as he made his way to the house. He stopped at the bottom step to stare up at the man he'd on;y ever seen through fuzzy, lagging video.

There was a pause as they took each other in, and then they moved in for a hug at the same time, meeting halfway. Keithir clung to his dad, holding on tightly.

Katie stood back and let them have their moment, though it wasn't too long before Keithir turned to find her, a bright smile on his face, and waved her over to join them.

“Dad, this is Katie,” Keithir introduced. “Katie, this is my dad, Travis Hawkins.”

Katie smiled politely and shook his hand. For a moment, she considered excusing herself to go back to the Red Lion and let them catch up, but neither of them gave her a chance to go through with it.

“Come on in, you two. It gets a bit chilly out here after dark.” Travis opened the door for them, reaching down in time to grab the collar of a massive wolf-like dog before it could get far. “Heel, Kosmo!”

Katie could only stare in shock. The dog was almost as tall as she was and, on top of that, had blue fur. Clearly, he wasn't from Earth.

“Hey, boy,” Keithir said, delighted by the massive dog. He slowly held out his hand for Kosmo to sniff and he grinned when Kosmo pressed a wet nose into his palm and licked him.

Travis took note of the confusion on Katie's face and offered an explanation. “I found him, uh, about ten years ago, now. Crashed way out in the desert, so I took it as a sign he was meant to be with me. Saved my neck a couple of years ago too. I wouldn't be here without him.” He released Kosmo when he was sure he wouldn't knock anyone down and then led the way inside.

Keithir followed with Kosmo at his side and Katie couldn't help but grin at how cute it was. She hadn't expected him to be a dog person. She'd have to introduce him to Bae bae.

“I know it's getting late, but do you kids want anything to eat? Or something to drink?” Travis asked, directing them to take a seat at a round table.

Katie and Keithir politely declined and sat down. Kosmo happily crawled beneath the table and settled at their feet, pressing his body against them.

Travis joined them once he'd gotten a cup of water. “Well, I know you didn't travel all this way just to see me, son. What's going on? Does it have something to do with that Blue Lion your ma came here to protect?”

“Not entirely,” Keithir said, glancing at Katie to make sure it was okay to talk about. She nodded and he continued. “It's a long story, dad.”

Travis smiled at him reassuringly. “I have all the time in the world for you. Tell me as much as you'd like.”

Keithir took a deep breath and began to tell his dad about everything that had happened since they last spoke, starting with Katie's offer of marriage. Even when Keith faltered and hesitated when it came to some details, Travis remained quiet and held all of his comments until the end. There were only a few times when Katie stepped in to fill in a gap from her perspective or to help Keithir clarify what it was like to be bonded with a Lion.

“Fascinating,” Travis said. “I'll admit, I was worried when I first saw the Blue Lion take off from the cave. I was sure your mother's worst fear had come to pass. Took me a few days to get in contact with Thace and relay what I saw, but by then he already knew what was happening. Took a good load off my mind, knowing that Lion was in safe hands.”

Katie leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “You were watching over her, all that time?”

“Of course. I figured the least I could do was carry on Krolia's mission,” Travis said, his eyes sliding back to Keithir. “Your ma would be so proud of you, just like I am. I wish she was still here to tell you that.”

“I- yeah... Yeah, me too,” Keithir said, his throat tight.

Katie took note of the way his eyes glistened and decided to give them a moment alone. She stood up, careful not to kick Kosmo. “Sorry, but could I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. It's just down the hall and on the left,” Travis said, gesturing to direct her the right way.

She thanked him and left the table, taking her time once she was in the bathroom.

“She seems like a nice young lady, Keithir.”

Keithir reached up and discretely brushed away a tear. “Yeah, she really is. I...” He hesitated, his heart twisting up as he tried to communicate his feelings. “I never thought I'd like her so much. It was so awkward between us at first that when we started to get along, I thought the best I could hope for was friendship. But now...”

“You love her,” Travis said, his voice full of gentle understanding.

Keithir took a calming breath. “I love her. And I've been so worried that I messed everything up, that I can't even bring myself to tell her. I had the perfect opportunity earlier and I blew that too. I just... I don't know what to do. How do you tell someone you like them? How did you and mom do this? How did you tell her?”

Travis hummed as he thought. “Well, our situation was real different from yours and I wasn't the smoothest when it came to telling her how I felt. I remember waking up and not being able to find her. Kind of panicked and thought she'd gone out and been seen by someone, so I ran outside to look, and there she was, standing in the morning sun. And that was the moment I knew she meant something special to me.

“Actually telling her that was the hard part. Sad to say I made a mess of things myself. I don't know why she put up with me for so long, but eventually I just blurted it out.” Travis chuckled at the memory. “Things were easier after that. The thing is, relationships need time and effort to stay strong. Figure out a way to communicate with her. It doesn't always have to be words, but you need to come to an understanding. Tell her what you need. Ask what she needs. You're a smart kid, Keithir, and I can tell that you want things to work out with her. And if you need a little push, just think of this:

“What are you more afraid of? Telling her how you feel, or losing her to a misunderstanding?”

Katie returned soon after and the topic turned to whether or not they'd be able to get Travis clearance to visit them on the Castle of Lions. (The answer was yes. Probably. Katie resolved to ask Coran in the morning.)

As the hours ticked by into midnight and a round of yawning began, Travis offered them a place to sleep for the night.

“It is tempting, but we should get back,” Katie said, covering her mouth as she yawned at the end. “I think my mom will actually ground me if she wakes up and I'm not in my room.”

Travis chuckled. “That's understandable. You'll visit again before you leave Earth, right? Both of you.”

“Of course, dad,” Keithir promised.

“And I'll find out how soon we can get you a pass into the Castle. Coran likes me, so it shouldn't take long,” Katie said.

Travis walked them to the door, where he gave Keithir a tight hug goodbye. Kosmo wagged his tail as he settled at his side, earning one last pat from both Keithir and Katie. Travis and Kosmo remained on the porch to watch the two of them enter the Red Lion together and take off into the sky, content with the promise that they'd see each other soon.

Keithir's conversation with his dad stuck with him over the next two days. From past experiences, he knew better than to try and wait for the “perfect” moment. It would never come.

“What are you more afraid of?”

Armed with a burst of courage from Red, Keithir went to find Katie. He wouldn't hesitate any longer. He would tell her how he felt before Lotor's trial and they would go into it more secure in their bond than ever.

Katie was waiting for him when he found her, perched on a stool in the otherwise empty kitchen. He was sure it had something to do with their connection; the one she could so easily close off while he struggled to control it. He didn't try and hold back the spark of agitation at his next thought.

“You already know why I'm here,” he accused.

“Keithir-”

“That's not fair. Why didn't you say something?”

Katie stared at him for a moment and slowly lowered her barriers. The trickle of intense guilt that came through had Keithir reeling in surprise. “I thought it was something you should get to say on your own. I don't want to build a relationship that relies solely on this connection we share and I didn't want to influence your choices. I hate hiding myself from you, but you're still so new at this and the others all agreed it would be best to step back and give you time to adjust to everything.”

Keithir frowned. “The others? Wait, they can feel me too?”

“No,” Katie quickly reassured him. “It takes more concentration to pick up on anything from the others. I can't do it without help from Greenie and I know it's the same for them. Shiro says he can pick up on some things, but only when it's a strong emotion, and that's just because Black is the head of Voltron. He needs that bond with everyone.” She paused. “Shiro's the one who suggested I put up a sort of mental barrier until you adjust.”

Keithir thought he was starting to understand. The foreign feel of her emotions brushing against him was so strange, almost intrusive.

“It gets easier. There are exercises we can do together that will help. Allura wants to set them up once things settle down,” Katie said, sliding down from her stool. She walked over to him and let down the last of her barriers.

He could feel everything. The complex twists and swirls of emotion. It was harder and harder to say who it was coming from, and the Lions were there are well, offering encouragement.

And Keithir was given the perfect moment.

He took Katie's left hand and lifted it to his lips, holding her gaze as he pressed a kiss to her ring. “You told me you said 'yes' because it was what you wanted.” There was a thrum of delight that he took as confirmation. “I asked you to marry me because it's what I want. It's not about the arrangement. Not anymore.”

Katie moved in closer, sliding her hand along his arm until she reached his shoulder. The other came to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of the plain shirt he wore. Keithir settled his hands on her waist.

“I love you, Katie Holt.”

Rapturous joy consumed them both and Katie rose to meet Keithir for a sweet kiss. His arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against him, and she smiled, separating briefly and going back in for a second kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, eagerly soaking in all of the affection he was willing to give.

When they separated, breathless and giddy, both unwilling to let go, Katie was finally able to say something she'd struggled to even admit to herself.

“I love you, Keithir.”

Shiro sat up when the door opened, and upon seeing Allura enter the room with an unusual pallor to her face, set aside his tablet and stood up. He gently guided her to take a seat on the couch, watching her face for any indication to what was wrong.

“Allura?” he asked softly.

She blinked, coming out of her stupor. “It was awful, Shiro.”

For one terrifying moment, Shiro thought their worst fears had come true and Lotor had managed to talk his way out of trouble, but then Allura dragged in a breath and continued.

“There was so much that we've never heard of. Things I never would have thought he was capable of doing. The Blade of Marmora has spent decaphoebs gathering evidence against him and Kolivan put it all out on display. Between that, Pidge's video, and all of the testimony against him, they didn't have a choice.” Allura reached up and began to tug at her hair, struggling to remove the pins.

“Here, let me,” Shiro said, pulling her hands away. He turned her so he could sit behind her and began to carefully unwind her hair.

Allura closed her eyes and let him work. “You would have been so proud of Pidge. She didn't start to ramble even once. Just stood there and relayed the events as clearly as she could. Keithir as well.”

Shiro removed and set aside the last of the pins and turned his attention to undoing the first braid. “Did they let Acxa speak like you hoped?”

“Yes, and Kolivan sent someone to find the other three who have been working with them. For a moment, I thought Lotor would break free of his restraints when they all spoke against him. The council hasn't decided what their punishment will be for complying with him for so long, but I believe Kolivan intends to take them in.”

“Is that wise?” Shiro asked with a frown.

Allura hesitated. “There are many things they have done that need to be taken into consideration first, but I trust Kolivan's judgement. And also... Shiro, Acxa was the one who freed you.”

Shiro's fingers slowed as he neared the top of the first braid. “She did? But why?”

“I couldn't ask. She was asked if she was present during the time when you made your escape and she admitted to tampering with security while the other girls caused a distraction. Your capture, your arm, it was all because of Lotor.”

It was as they suspected.

For years, they'd operated until the assumption that space pirates were the ones behind the capture of the Kerberos crew and Shiro's missing arm, but then he heard how frustrated Empress Honerva sounded when talking about her stolen tech that went into the first prosthetic. How would space pirates get their hands on the blueprints for her technology? It was when he found out that Lotor was keeping Sam and Matt hidden with help from the pirates that he began to put two and two together.

Lotor had taken his mother's technology and reconfigured it for his own purposes.

Shiro finished with the second braid and Allura turned around to face him, giving him no time to prepare as she crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms round him. She sighed happily and tucked her head under his chin.

“What did they decide to do with him?” Shiro asked after a few minutes.

“Emperor Zarkon stripped him of his title and all rights to the throne. He will never be permitted to step foot near the Kral Zera. The council... They called for banishment to the outer reaches, a fairly light sentence as far as the Galra are concerned. Others pressed for execution.”

Shiro could feel her shiver at the thought.

“Keithir had a different suggestion,” Allura continued. “One that everyone could agree was a fair punishment. Lotor will spend the rest of his years locked away in Beta Traz.”

Beta Traz, the maximum prison facility run by a Galra commander simply known as “The Warden”, was a place Shiro had visited only once with Pidge, who had volunteered to help design new levels of security for it. Meeting the Warden (and his pet Yupper) had been an experience Shiro would never forget.

Lotor would hate it there.

Better than that, they would always know exactly where he was and what he was doing. He would never again pose a threat to them or anyone else.

“It's finally over,” Shiro murmured, placing a kiss on top of Allura's head.

“Yes,” Allura agreed. She tilted her head up for a proper kiss and there wasn't much more talking for a while after that.

[isaac-lacey]

Update on this account. If you don’t feel like a big explanation feel free to skip to the last paragraph x.

I kinda feel like I should apologize because I haven’t been posting on this account all that much anymore or interacting with many writers etc. 

To be honest my main reason for not posting on here all that much is purely born out of not feeling that much of a need to, don’t get me wrong I am well aware that I do for marketing purposes but also to help other writers in any way I can but I don’t know, at least in terms of advice etc I find myself stumped and without idea for things I can post hence the lack of them. I just honestly feel like I can’t be helpful I suppose and it’s inevitably proving to be a detriment to this account.

On top of that I find myself lacking in motivation, every time I try to post I feel like nobody will even care about what I have to say (I feel I must clarify, this has nothing to do with any of my followers, I appreciate each and every one of you (maybe not the porn bots) and ya’ll actually make me want to post more as to not disappoint you but I digress), it’s, in my opinion, is probably more of a self sabotage thing on my part as I find that it is my own brain fucking with me in almost any situation it finds itself able to.

Finally, in terms of just plain writing updates, what I’m working on etc again it’s more of a self sabotage thing. My social circle has no other writers within it and thus nobody to really talk about my writing with, don’t get me wrong this circle of friends of mine is incredibly supportive and when I talk about writing they always have nice things to say and chime in however I notice that they don’t really seem that interested and I can’t blame them. I know I’m making them sound a bit like dicks but they most certainly are not, these people are family to me but I guess they don’t understand exactly what I’m talking about as none of them are writers, they’re unable to relate to the struggle and although they are interested in what I have to say about my writing they’re not able to properly get invested. I see this lack of investment and translate that to my internet life and find myself not posting purely because I feel like nobody is going to be as invested as I hope. I don’t have any online writer friends either again because of self sabotage, I didn’t properly work at those relationships with my writer friends and those relationships suffered because of it (quick bit of advice, no matter the nature of the relationship you have with someone (friend, partner, husband, wife, spouse) you need to work at it, no matter how good the relationship is at any given time work at it, you and that person might have sparks but ya’ll need to keep those sparks alight yourselves, the relationship can’t forge itself). Those people I have found myself not talking to anymore, any of them despite how precious they all were to me and despite how well we got to know each other. These people became more than writer buddies to me, they were my friends and it is through my own naivety that those relationships have now suffered. I feel I need to both thank and apologize to those people now, you are still special to me and I am sorry that I let our conversations die and let our friendship go almost, like I said you are all special to me and I appreciate every one of you.

All that being said what does it mean for this account, if any of you are worried about me deleting let me put that worry to rest. I have no intention of deleting this account and hopefully I never will. What I plan to do is get into the habit of posting more often however the reality is this may not happen for a while. Primarily because I don’t feel ready to, the first thing I want to do before properly committing to posting on here and on twitter even is start a youtube channel. To do that I need to find a camera (or even a laptop that will let me record video) and an editing software. Once this is done ya’ll can certainly expect more posts from me both in video format and otherwise and I am going to stick to that. Until then however although I will try to post more they might not come as frequently as you or I would like, I hope ya’ll understand. I do want to make the best quality content I can for you guys and I feel the best way I can do that is through waiting a little longer. x

[laufie]

here’s a fun story about a creepy dude/stalker i had. it was a strange situation at the time, and i realize in hindsight i should have been much more scared, but it’s been over 10 years so i can just laugh about it now. it doesn’t describe anything traumatic or graphic, but it’s quite eerie.

anyway, i was about 15 or 16 years old at the time, and it had been just over a year since i moved to canada from ukraine. i still used vk (russian equivalent of facebook) frequently to chat with friends, and had an inside joke in my bio about taking LSD. i wasn’t actually taking anything, as i said it was an inside joke.

out of nowhere, this russian dude sends me a pm about how if im really taking LSD i should be able to name some specific formula or dosage or something. i explained to him that it was an inside joke and i know next to nothing about the drug itself, and he laughed it off. we started talking because i noticed it said on his profile that he currently lived in new york, which was a place i’ve always dreamt of visiting. we ended up talking every day about random things, mostly his love of new york and the array of recreational drugs he does.

he didn’t seem dangerous. he never talked about heavy drugs like heroin or meth, and was heavily against them. he was russian of course, as he was in new york only temporarily, so i felt a sense of connection to him, since i was still overcoming the cultural shock of moving to canada. to my mind at that age he didn’t seem like he had any bad motive. he didn’t ask especially prying questions, he was always nice and well-spoken, and enjoyed philosophical discussion. he gave off a vibe of a trustworthy person, which is a note of positivity that would have persisted throughout this whole story...

had he not been 7 years older than me. an important detail that slipped through the cracks at the time - he was 22 when i was 15. i knew he was more mature than me, but as far as i remember, i never actually got to find out his age back then. in hindsight of course, aside from the glaring age difference, he did give off red flags. calling me much more mature than other girls my age was perhaps the most glaring one. at the time. and of course, the constant glorification of drugs.

mind you, this was more than 10 years ago. the internet was a different place at the time. there was no tumblr or twitter or adults that grew up using the internet to tell me to be careful as a minor. people did whatever they wanted to and got away with it. so naturally, i didn’t catch any of the red flags, neither was i even on the lookout for them in the first place.

skip forward nearly a year, my mom knows a lot about this guy, since i’m quite open with her about, well, everything. my mom has always been my best friend. that summer we were planning a 3 month long trip home, to ukraine. him and i thought it would be cool to met up, since by now he was back home in russia. for reference, ukraine is to the far left side of russia, whereas this guy lived on the polar opposite side, on a piece of russian land that is right above japan. he would have to fly across the entire russia to see me. russia. you know, that massive thing? he was perfectly fine with it. i convinced my mom to let me meet him, and she said only if he stays at our place. naturally.

he came for only a couple days. our apartment back home is quite small so with my mom and constant family guests, there was always a pair of eyes on him. it got a little bit strange eventually. he was touchy, but not in an inappropriate way at all. i’m sure it’s not due to his personal decency, and rather because he would most definitely get caught. he would try to hold my hand, or brush my hair off my face, pat my head. things like that. it didn’t go beyond that. but to me, at the time, it was a grown adult man doing it to me, which gave me an unsettling anxious feeling.

on his last day he wanted to go out because he wanted me to try a drug that he had been talking about the entire time i’ve known him. i would prefer not to go into what it is, but it has a heavy hallucinogenic effect that lasts for a very, very long time. naturally he told my mom he just wanted me to show him around, and i was in on the lie. i was curious. my mom was always very strict with coming back home right on time, so we promised her we will be home by 10 pm.

we went out at around 5. and it lasted longer than he promised. way longer. we came home at 3 am. despite the hallucinations being quite heavy and mind-boggling, the effect of the drug didn’t make me feel “out of it”. my perception of time and space was obviously very skewed, but i knew who i was and where i was, and what was happening around me. he didn’t try anything. there wasn’t even as much as an attempt. except, well, when i realized what time it was i rushed home so fast that i was not going to stop for anything. so i’m not sure. maybe the night wasn’t over in his mind yet, but it was in mine. i felt bad for my poor mother who had been worried sick since 10 pm. it was pitch black outside so i went home through a well-lit road that has a lot of cars. now that i think about it, i may have unintentionally saved myself from things getting worse.

i only stopped when we were outside my apartment, because i wanted to focus as much as i could before going in. he sat down on the bench and beckoned me to sit next to him. and he kissed me. i dont remember how exactly it happened but it just kind of did. i went along with it and didn’t say anything after, i went inside the apartment building like nothing happened. it was odd. i didn’t know what it meant, but i also didn’t care, because i wanted to see my mom as soon as i could, ad it was the only thing on my mind.

one look in my eyes and she knew everything. she told me to go to bed. i don’t know what she told him. i’m not sure she said anything. the next morning she asked me if anything happened. i assured her that i was safe. and then he was gone. she didn’t say anything to him. she just dropped him off to make sure he actually left.

after that we didn’t really talk nearly as much. we tried to keep in contact but honestly, i wasn’t as drawn to him anymore. eventually, out of nowhere, he posted some really mean and rude comments under a bunch of my pictures, and i ended up deleting him.

now for the creepiest part. nearly 4 years later we plan another trip to ukraine to visit family. i have some medical conditions with my spine that i needed to get very uncomfortable and painful massages for. my health is one of the main reasons why we took trips back home often. one day about a week or so into my trip i was leaving my apartment to get into a taxi to go to one of those massage appointments. i exit the building and there he was. sitting on the bench and just looking at me. 4 years later. not a word. across russia.

even though it was bright afternoon and a lot of people were out, i was overcome with dread. i awkwardly told him “sorry, i have to go somewhere” and rushed to get into the taxi. he didn’t say anything, just kept looking. on my way back from the massage i called one of my close old friends that worked in the UKR special forces. my mom wasn’t home and i did not feel safe returning. he picked me up and drove me home, and came in with me, all the way into the apartment, the guy wasn’t there anymore. i made my friend coffee and told him about this guy. he promised to drive by once in a while to make sure he isnt hanging out here at odd hours.

later that day at around 8 pm i got a text from an unknown number. “so, are you scared of me now?”.

i closed all my blinds and curtains, locked both entrance doors, and told my female friends not to come visit me, because he knew their faces. yes, i was scared. i was really scared. he didnt say a word to me in 4 years, somehow found out about my trip and just showed up. i wasn’t sure if i wanted to cry or scream. i knew i had to get rid of him somehow. so i responded, making up a story about being really sick and needing constant treatment, and that i made plans with all my friends to leave tonight to go to another city for 3 weeks.

he was angry with me and very upset. he expected a happy reunion i guess. i was very polite to him and apologized, saying i felt bad he traveled all this way only to be told this. he started writing really cryptic things. “i know a secret how to cure any illness of yours, you don’t need doctors, it’s like a code, you plug it in and you become anything”. “i came here to cure you because you’re the only person it will work on”. “i went to your page to ask your friends if your plans are true, but you have them hidden. why don’t you trust me anymore?”

among this he called me. over and over. between every message, a missed call i refused to pick up. eventually i broke down and asked him why is he acting like this. to which he said “because you are the only woman in the world i will ever be able to love this much”. i told him i was with someone and have been for 2 years, and to leave me alone. after a handful more cryptic messages, he stopped for a while. and ended it in a plea to forgive him. i didn’t respond to anything beyond the confession.

thankfully i had no contact with him since then, and as far as i know there have been no attempts from him. however, i don’t use russian social media anymore, and none of them are linked to any of my active “american” accounts, so to speak. so there is no way for him to find me. if you ever wondered why i never make my real name public and always go under aliases, this is largely why.

[jontaro-kun]

“A night at the Sleeping Squire”

I wrote this story months ago but here it is now, it doesn’t have a plot or anything it’s just me exploring characters.

     Chef was the first to arrive at the tavern, as always, wanting to be sure that he and his friends got a good table before the rush came in. It was a midsummer night at The Sleeping Squire, a Friday night if he remembered correctly.

      It would take a while before they arrived, as they lived far from Stonewood. About one or two days away in a carriage. They only visited on special occasions like a birthday, successful hunt, a well-paying job, or whenever Chef was in the mood for a vacation. He always thought the food could be better, though.

      He looked around at the other patrons of the bar, which were illuminated by the warm orange glow of freshly lit candles and fireplaces. Stonewood by itself is a very vibrant and lively place, as are the Knights who call it home, but the taverns are where their culture is amplified tenfold. Valkyr, Elves, Knights and all of the sort bustling about, drinking and laughing and singing shared by a mug of mead and a sliver of seared runehorn. On this night, in particular, the atmosphere was extra jubilant.

      “Must be a special occasion for them too.” He chuckled to himself as a waitress walked towards his table.

      “Can I get you anything, hun?”

      “Just water, for now, I’m expecting some friends.” As was his tradition, always being the first after all, water was free anyway.

      As she walked away his attention turned to the entrance, which had no doors and revealed the city streets outside as two people walked in energetically, the sound of a charming bell ringing throughout the tavern anyway. One was wearing a metal mask over wild, green, sharp hair. The one next to him had dark blue skin, glowing eyes of a lighter shade, and vibrant orange hair, he was adjusting his collar as he walked in. They both looked around before locking eyes with Chef, excitement plastered on their faces, or at least, one of their faces. The other was wearing a mask after all.

      “Come here, my boys!” Chef said, motioning for them.

      The sharp one took his half-helmet off as he sat down next to him. “Sorry we’re late, big man. Story thought we were going to a different tavern called The Laughing Dragon.”

      “Well excuse me, it’s not my fault they sound so similar. Tavern names are always ‘The something something blahblahblah’.” he said as he raised his hand to signal a waitress.

      “You might be right but Laughing Dragon and Sleeping Squire sound completely different.”

      Chef gave out a laugh, “I’m going to have to agree with Blade here, my boy.”

      Story politely asked for a cold mug of milk, which was his favorite. He made extra sure to ask for it cold, the others thought he was weird for always being meticulously specific with things, but after the incident of his 15th birthday, he never made the mistake of not specifying cold.

      Blade was different, at first he asked for a mug of ale, then a pint of mead, then a glass of fine wine with steak, but he ended up getting water, he would worry himself with the decision later in the night. His arms were still sore from the day before.

      Chef asked for another water.

      The bell rang throughout the tavern once more. This time it was someone in a long flowing coat, maroon in color, with gold accents. They had an air of mystery to them as they walked through the entrance as if someone with a fine taste in the magical arts had decided to partake in the festivities of The Sleeping Squire, however, the main giveaway was the wizard hat of the same color. His bright violet eyes shone through the shadow of the visor, and upon seeing the other three knights, happily shouted in excitement, breaking into what seemed like a mix of dancing, walking, and otherwise a very outgoing personality as they made their way to the table. He placed his hat on the table along with a pouch that jingled as it plopped down.

      “Apologies fellas,” he said with a chuckle, “but I saw a game of dragon dice out in the streets and I wanted in.” He tossed the pouch to Chef, “Lucky number 6, Falcon eyes.”

      “I counted on it, my boy.” Chef said, smiling and signaling a bartender, “One ale please!”

      “So Blade, my man, you still sore from the hunt?” he nudged him in the shoulder.

      “Yeah a little, Huntress was too busy setting up the trap to notice that the bastard was hunting us too. It’s horn almost went right up my-”

      “So Story! Are you planning on entertaining these fine folk tonight?” he interrupted while he laid back and crossed his legs.

      “I hope so, Shuffle.” Story twiddled his thumbs nervously, staring at his drink and then back at Shuffle, “I’m gonna tell them about what happened the other day, but with my own twist.”

      “Is it gonna have the part where the horn-”

      “Yeah, but I can’t just SAY that.”

      The table broke into laughter and the bell rang again, two more entered the tavern. One was tall and wearing a thick black fur coat with a visored helmet. The other was short and seemed to have all the defining features of a bunny rabbit, despite not actually being one, and seemed to bounce with every step. When they saw the others the tall one gave a nod and walked towards them while the bunny excitedly waved and skipped to their table.

      “Oh my god guys outside I saw the cutest little Knight ever!” she said as she took a seat next to Story.

      “Bunny, don’t you say that about every child you see in this city?” Blade said, sarcastically.

      Bunny reached for one of the mugs before the one in the black coat smacked her hand away. “Maybe I do, I admit, but this one was wearing a cute tunic with a flame pattern. Maybe their affinity is fire!” She almost zoned out near the end of her sentence, she was always quite the hyper one.

      “That’s uhh, quite the deduction. We should call you Detective.” Story said.

      The one in the black coat sat by Chef, he looked rather sluggish and disinterested in the conversation. “This is a good table, distant, quiet, not in anyone’s way.”

      “Just the way you like it, my boy.” Chef always took his friends into account when making decisions. “So Bomb, my boy, do you happen to know where Huntress might be?”

      Bomb looked around, shrugged, and pointed to the corner of the tavern with a large group of patrons causing commotions. They looked to be either celebrating or cheering on something taking place within the center of the crowd. They suddenly burst into laughter, shouts, and the clinking of mugs and glasses, the others could see within the crowd that an arm wrestle had taken place between an orc and a rather muscular woman.

      Blade and Shuffle immediately got up to join the crowd, cheering on the woman as loud as they could. That woman was Huntress, it turned out she was in the tavern the whole time.

      Once they all gathered at the table again, drinks ordered, food served, and the music at the tavern as cheery as ever, they made their toast.

      Story stood up and clinked his wine glass of milk, “I desire to prepare a toast for some one most special and important to all of us. 'tis chef's day of birth! a friend to most, a father to us. As well as a close acquaintance to the kitchen halls. Shall he hast a fortunate day of celebration!”

      The table exploded with cheers, clinks, and hoorahs.

      “I swear, each year the toast gets longer and longer and it’s great.” Blade said while trying to keep Bunny from drinking.

      “Just a bit of practice before someone starts a telling of the Legend Knight.” Story smiled, looking around anxiously at the other people.

      Huntress laughed and downed another mug. “Are you gonna tell them about the hunt we went on the other day? HA, that’s a good one. My favorite part was when the beast snuck up behind us and Blade almost got it in the-”

      “You two seem very adamant on me describing that part in full detail.” Story sighed as he stood up.

      “I’m just saying, that Runehorn was a tough bastard and that was like, the most dangerous part.” Blade looked around the table, “Where is….Chef and Shuffle?”

      Bomb pointed to another corner of the tavern. “Shuffle is heckling another cheater over there, Chef is watching them, and not sure if you wanted to know but Bunny got into someone’s drink and now she’s drunkenly singing with the band over there.”

      On another corner of the tavern was a telling of stories and adventure. Story had completely captivated a group of patrons as he retold the events of the hunt, and he made sure to include the details that caused the whole bar to burst into laughter. Story had always been one to wait until the party already started to practice his craft, tonight was different. You could say that it was a moment of motivation given the celebration of Chef’s birthday, but you could just as easily say it could be related to the group of girls sitting near the bar where he performed.

      But alas, all nights come to an end. The first to leave was Bomb, having purchased a keg to take back home thanks to Shuffle’s earnings. Then was Huntress, carrying Bunny on her shoulders, Bunny was clearly in a completely different world at that point.

      Story pointed at them leaving and asked Chef, “Didn’t Bunny only get to one of our half-empty mugs?” To which Chef replied with a joyous laughter.

      Gone was Shuffle and Blade, who said they would head straight to the inn but were instead headed for the marketplace. Most likely to buy food for Chef to cook in the morning. Story went after them, but he probably just wanted to spend more time in the city, it was always beautiful at night.

     Chef was the last to leave, as always, wanting to be sure that all his friends got to the inn safe. There was, however, a tab that needed to be paid. 

      "Well, I'll let them repay me through dish duties!" He laughed, pulling out his wallet.