#sure i can help in the yard but ill be down for most of the day if i do

[aconfusedkitten]

kind of wanting to write something about all the chronic issues im dealing with right now, but i don't even know where to start.

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ..."

Word count: 6000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst.

FALLING — 7. Her.

During the first moons of her stay at the Red Keep, everything seemed new and exciting. There was some sense of freedom in not having her family around, but with each sunrise, it became more complicated, and the longing grew stronger.

The letters she received from her mother initially brought comfort, but soon they became short. No matter how many words her mother wrote about her, her siblings, and her father, it was never enough. She wrote daily, though she only sent them every three days. She would tell her about her day, always omitting her nightly outings, and tried to hide how much she missed them, and her mother, worried, always asked about Aemond's progress.

Over time, even all the letters became inadequate; they couldn't fill the void she felt. She longed to hear their voices, feel the warmth of their hugs. She questioned a few times if it had been a good idea, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts to remain resolute.

Aemond spent most of his time in the yard, both morning and evening, promising to become the best warrior for her. This caused their visits to the library to decrease. Nevertheless, every night without fail, they slept together, face to face, finding solace in each other's presence.

Her lessons with the septa became increasingly tedious, or perhaps she just grew more easily bored. She spent a lot of time in Helaena's room, who seemed happy to have her. Helaena continued to intrigue her with riddles and enigmatic phrases, making her wonder when each prediction would come true. So far, none seemed bad, so she wasn't frightened or worried. Helaena also helped her improve her embroidery technique, although there wasn't much to be done; it wasn't her strong suit. Soon, the lack of activities even led her to become interested in her insects, delighted to see her aunt’s enthusiasm.

One day, while sitting on the floor, Helaena placed a ladybug on her hand. "It tickles" she said, laughing softly as the insect walked across her palm. Helaena smiled at her, happy to share her passion with someone.

"They all have seven dots, the red ones" Helaena said, revealing an interesting curiosity. "She likes you" she added, looking her in the eyes with a slight smile. She thanked her for saying that.

"What about those?" she asked, pointing to a wooden box with a transparent lid, where several insects could be seen inside. There were some spiders and others she couldn't name.

When Helaena turned to look in the direction her finger pointed, her smile faded a bit. She took the box in her hands and allowed her to observe them from above, while the ladybug continued to walk between her fingers and fly from one hand to the other.

"I do not trust them yet" she said quietly. "I am not sure whether their wishes are for good or ill."

“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Helaena pointed to a large black spider from above and said: "They weave intricate webs, and sometimes those webs can hide important secrets. I'm still trying to unravel which ones" she said, frowning. "But what I know is, we have to beware of the guardian of secrets" she warned, as if wanting to protect her from an-as-yet unknown danger. She simply nodded, hoping nothing bad would come of it.

As time passed, life at the castle continued with its ups and downs; Aemond's training, the enigmatic conversations with Helaena, the whispers of the people, and the few letters from her mother. Even through it all, she found moments of peace, and convinced herself that despite the challenges, she was exactly where she needed to be, next to him.

Occasionally, she found distraction by visiting her grandsire's room. She spent hours there, reading to him, listening to his fascinating stories about their ancestors and the old Valyria. Often, she asked for tales about her mother's youth, seeking to feel closer to her.

She had also begun to insist on Lyra's presence during every meal, finding in her company a sense of familiarity, a relief from her growing homesickness. As expected, everything began to feel cramped, and Lyra, as perceptive as ever, had noticed it, and she herself could no longer ignore it.

She missed her family terribly, and there was nothing that could ease that pain, except the obvious. She felt trapped, guilty for wanting to go to Dragonstone and leave Aemond behind, but she couldn't help it.

"Could it be that, perhaps, I've made a mistake coming here?" she asked one night, her voice filled with doubt and shame for exposing her deepest thoughts.

"I do not think things are that simple, princess. You came here with good intentions, and missing your family is only natural, it does not mean you have made a mistake" Lyra replied gently.

She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. "I do really miss them" she murmured, longing evident, head bowed. "No matter how hard I try, this is not my home."

"Why do you say that, princess?" After dinner, Lyra had drawn her a warm bath, and now, in her nightdress, Lyra was gently brushing her long hair.

"I've heard the whispers when I walk alone in the halls." Lyra nodded, understanding the situation and listening attentively to her words. Both were sitting on the bed, and she was with her back facing her lady-in-waiting, between her legs. "It's as if they believe me deaf. I know what they say or think, and it's not... good" she confessed, pain reflected in her voice.

Upon hearing her last words, Lyra set the brush aside and drew her close, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Lyra was the daughter of one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and had lived her entire life in that family. Though only a few years older, she felt a deep maternal love for the princess. 

"We must not let such foolish words disturb our ears, and if they do, let us ensure they do not enter our precious minds, yes?" Lyra said, whispering with firmness. "They mean nothing."

She nodded, and unable to contain herself, she began to cry softly in her caretaker's arms. They remained like that for a while until she could calm down. She appreciated Lyra's love and understanding, feeling fortunate to have someone like that by her side, watching over her well-being.

After some time, Lyra left the room, wishing her goodnight. This was her signal to get up, put on her cloak over her shoulders, dampen her face a bit to erase any trace of dry tears, and take the gift she had prepared so much for him with the help of her mother. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, she headed towards her destination, seeking to find another place of peace and connection amidst the storm of emotions that assailed her.

Aemond's nameday wasn't until the next morning, but she never had much patience for such things. That night, like all others, she entered the room with a candle in one hand, only now she hid the gift behind her back with the other.

Aemond was sitting by the window, his gaze fixed on the night sky. She closed the door with her hip, as both her hands were occupied, and walked over to him. Aemond's face showed signs of fatigue, even some sadness. She knew he was trying to stay awake while waiting for her, as always. The notion of time had escaped her during the shared moment with Lyra, and he always ended up terribly exhausted by his training. Seeing her arrive, Aemond settled and offered a tired smile. She circled the bed, placing the candle on the small table, and with her free hand, she took off her cloak, hiding the gift underneath on the nearby chair.

She walked towards him slowly, observing the clear sky. The moon shone over the city, enhancing the delicacy of his face.

"This is how the night was when I claimed Vhagar" he said, with sorrow. Her heart squeezed at his words, she sadly knew he would never have a flight like that again.

"What was it like?" she finally asked, cautiously. She had never dared to ask about that moment, fearing to reopen wounds, but now that he mentioned it, her curiosity stirred again.

He smiled, still looking at the sky. "I never imagined flying would feel like that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Did it ever trouble you when I did?" he asked.

"What? Claim Vhagar?" she inquired, surprised by his question.

"Yes" he said softly, his voice tinged with apprehension.

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her eyes reflecting pride. "Of course not. It was meant for you, a warrior destined for a warrior." Her words carried a sense of admiration and certainty, a testament to her unwavering belief in his capabilities. "And that was just the beginning, Aemond. Together, you will be unstoppable" she said, her voice whispering with conviction and anticipation. "I do feel safer knowing we have you as protectors."

"Thank you" he expressed, hopeful. She knew the journey was just beginning, and the horizon stretched like a promise of all the adventures to come. "I did it on behalf of us both." She smiled gratefully, gently squeezing him.

"I know they will write books that will pass through all the ages, Aemond, about your courage and triumph" she said, walking towards the sofa.

"I'm not sure about that much" he replied, laughing lightly at her words.

"Then I will be the one to write them" she said, pulling the gift from under her cloak. "Close your eye" she instructed, with an excited smile. Aemond obeyed, but not before giving her an odd look.

"Open your hands" she indicated once she was in front of him again. He did so without question, and with a gentle gesture, she placed the gift in his hands, which lowered slightly at the unexpected weight.

"Now you can look" she whispered. Aemond did so quickly, and looked surprised at the delicate blue velvet bag. She was looking at him with excitement and a touch of nervousness. It was the first time she had given such a planned gift to someone, and she hoped not to disappoint. But even if she did, she would never find out, as he would never show it.

"It's your nameday present" she explained with a radiant smile. "I couldn't wait to give it to you on the morrow, and I wanted to be the first one to do it" she said, letting out a small laugh from her lips.

"I love it" he replied, placing the gift on his lap and looking directly at her, the faint moonlight adorning his gaze with a softness that made him appear even more beautiful.

"You haven't even seen it!" she exclaimed, softly laughing. "Come on, open it."

"I would love anything you gave me" he said laughing too, while untying the laces of the velvet bag to reveal the gift. She had a premonition that his words were sincere.

He carefully pulled the wooden case out of the bag. It was made of ebony, so its color was dark like the night, almost black, and was decorated with delicate carvings. He ran his hand over the surface, appreciating the abstract shapes as if they were a work of art. He had a slightly open mouth as he admired the case with admiration. Then, carefully, he opened it, revealing the true gift.

Inside rested a valyrian steel dagger, shining and forged with impeccable craftsmanship. Its sharp, polished blade reflected the light with a silver shine. Each side of it was adorned with intricate engravings that wound from the hilt to the edge.

His eyes lit up upon seeing it, and a sincere smile spread across his face. "It's valyrian steel" she explained enthusiastically, "so you'll always carry a piece of our roots."

The handle was equally impressive. It was wrapped in black leather, a material that, according to the smith, provided a more comfortable and secure grip. However, the highlight was the sapphires embedded in the handle. The sapphires, of a deep and radiant blue, were skillfully set into the metal, creating a vibrant contrast with the silver. Each sapphire was carefully polished, capturing flashes of light that gave the impression of small stars embedded in the hilt.

The guard of the dagger, also made of steel, was decorated with intertwining motifs that complemented the sapphires in the handle. Aemond took it in his hands carefully, observing every detail meticulously.

She had often heard him speak about Viserys's dagger, seeing the longing in his eyes when he did so, as well as the sadness knowing he could never possess it. That's why she had tried to make something unique for him, something exclusively his, perhaps even something that could be passed down to future Targaryens, always remembered as his.

He set the dagger aside and looked at the box. Inside was a sapphire too. She knew some people carried those precious gemstones as talismans, believing they protected the eyes and helped see beyond the physical. Besides, she had always thought the color matched his eyes. It seemed like a thoughtful detail, but she didn't dare mention its significance.

"My father gave me two he brought back from one of his expeditions to the Stepstones a few years ago" she explained, smiling as he held the sapphire between his fingers, admiring it in the light streaming through the window. "I have the other one" she added shyly. "So you always have a piece of sky, or sea, and I hope it always reminds you that you are destined for something big." He set the sapphire aside and continued to observe. She wondered if he would be attentive enough to explore further, and of course, he was.

The box was lined with more velvet and there was a small cushion where the dagger rested. During her lessons and visits to Helaena, she had embroidered the fabric, and the tailor had turned it into this. She had tried to depict waves and the moon in different shades of blue and teal, with some white stars. They might not have been perfect, but she had poured her heart into them.

He traced the fabric with his fingers, still not saying a word.

"I embroidered it" she added proudly. Then he put the dagger back in the case, but kept the sapphire in his hand. She waited anxiously for his words. "I’m sure it does not compare to Viserys', but..."

"It's perfect" he interrupted, his voice sincere. She let out a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding, a wave of relief and happiness at his reaction. "I..." he began, hesitating. He shook his head slightly, searching for words. Then he put the case back in the velvet bag and stepped away from the window ledge. Once face to face, he hugged her unexpectedly. With one hand he held the gift and with the other he held her tightly. She returned the embrace with a smile, now more relaxed. 

"Thank you" he whispered, holding her even tighter, their hearts almost merging in that hug. When they separated, his eye sparkled, holding back some tears, just like hers. "Let us go to bed" he said, noticing his body was cold from being pressed against the window glass. He approached a shelf where he kept some of his most precious books and now his most precious object, then headed for the bed, placing the sapphire on the bedside table after admiring it again.

Smiling, they both got under the covers, facing each other, feeling their bodies warming up again. They both reached out their hands at the same time, their hands meeting in the middle. They laughed softly and intertwined their fingers in the middle of the bed. It was their routine, talking like this, face to face, until they ran out of things to say, with their hands joined. Then they slept together, sometimes with her head on his chest, sometimes with him nestled in her arms.

"I loved it" he said sincerely. "Absolutely everything," he assured her, "no one has ever given me a better present."

She smiled proudly, happy with his words. "I'm glad you liked it."

They looked at each other in silence. It was a comfortable silence, warm even. It was at that moment, suddenly, while they looked at each other, that hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind like a torrent. Did everyone experience something as wonderful as this? Did everyone have someone to whom giving the whole world, along with their heart on a silver platter, seemed not enough? Did everyone's heart beat so wildly when looking someone in the eyes? Or was it something that only happened when it was the most beautiful face in the kingdom gazing back at them?

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she saw that he seemed to want to say something too. They both remained silent, waiting for the other to speak first.

"You can go first" she said softly.

"No, you're a lady, you go" he insisted courteously.

"No, please, you tell me" she said, almost pleading with her eyes, though she wasn't exactly sure what she hoped to hear, still trying to understand the strange sensation in her chest.

"Tell me, please" he echoed at the same time, and they laughed again at the coincidence.

"You're my best friend" he exclaimed finally.

"You're my best friend" she replied, in perfect sync.

They laughed again, and as they truly heard each other's words, they smiled. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. At that moment, everything made sense to her. That special, innocent feeling, that pure joy, so complex yet so simple, was love. She didn't need to fully understand it to know it was real, and that it was reciprocated.

They lingered for a moment, lost in each other's gaze. Aemond's eyes glowed with a tenderness that mirrored her own. Without needing more words, they leaned in slowly and shared a hug filled with affection and silent promises. The moonlight bathed the room, enveloping them in its silver glow. Every moment seemed magical, as if time had stopped just for them.

In that instant, in the tranquility of the night, they both knew that despite the challenges, they would always have that special bond that united them.

Finally, they settled comfortably under the covers, still close, their hearts beating in unison, and they embraced the serenity.

Once back in her room, she spent the day with Lyra again. If it were up to her, she would have spent the entire day with Aemond, but she knew he would break fast with his mother as usual. Later, he would be busy with his training, something that excited him especially now, with the anticipation of wielding a real sword, finally, as he had come of age for it.

At dusk, after writing to her mother and enjoying a hot bath, the woman helped her dress in the carefully chosen attire for the occasion. She opted for a flowing blue dress and some delicate jewelry. As Lyra began to brush her hair, preparing to style it up as she always did, she decided to change her mind.

Aemond had always praised her curls, often running his fingers through them in the night until he drifted off to sleep, and she thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him to wear her hair loose, something she only did in the privacy of their rooms.

When she was almost ready, Lyra was about to accompany her to the hall where the feast would take place, but they heard soft knocks on the door. Few were the times someone sought out her room, so both were intrigued. Lyra walked towards the door and opened it, while she adjusted the sandals that complemented her dress. When she looked up, she found Aemond standing in front of her, looking at her in awe, with Lyra behind him, barely able to hide her huge smile biting her lower lip.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, they were not accustomed to being so close in front of other people, so she didn't know how to react, a little flustered with her lady-in-waiting standing there.

Aemond's hair was neatly tied back in a half ponytail. His left side was partly covered by the patch he wore during his training, and he was dressed in a handsome green suit.

"I’ve come to escort you, princess" he murmured shyly, mindful of the third presence. She smiled and nodded, walking towards him and taking his right arm.

"Happy nameday, my prince. May you both enjoy a good supper" Lyra chimed in, opening the door for them to leave.

"Thank you, my lady" Aemond replied courteously before walking out of the room.

Once out of the enthusiastic gaze, she squeezed his arm and looked at him. "Happy nameday, my prince."

He looked at her with a smile that radiated happiness as he guided her through the dimly lit corridors by torchlight, the sun already hidden. "Thank you, my princess." The next words seemed to come with a touch of adoration and nervousness. "You look beautiful tonight... well, you always do, but tonight especially so."

She responded with a grateful smile. "You look lovely too, as always, my prince." He smiled faintly, an expression that denoted a hint of skepticism, as if he couldn't quite believe all the compliments she gave him. As they walked together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, she broke the silence with a curious question. "What gifts have you received so far?"

With a gleam of joy in his eyes, he replied, "my grandsire had a new saddle made for Vhagar. It's magnificent." His voice filled with enthusiasm. "My mother gave me some ancient books from Oldtown, and she also surprised me with Daeron's visit. I barely remembered his face." She widened her eyes in surprise, vaguely recalling Daeron, who was her age and whom she had seen only once. "Helaena gave me a suit embroidered by herself, with two intertwined dragons" he said with palpable excitement, hoping it meant something. "And Viserys gave me a Valyrian steel sword, with a belt that also has space for a dagger. Aegon mentioned he would give me his present later" he concluded happily. 

She smiled, glad that each gift sounded well thought out, just right for him, although still puzzled why he referred to his father by his name. As they finished their conversation, they found themselves standing in front of the imposing doors of the grand hall. Instinctively, both separated their arms as the guards opened the large doors, announcing their arrival. 

The guests stood in the center of the hall, conversing animatedly, except for the king and the Hand, who were already seated. The queen approached them with a maternal smile and planted a kiss on her son's forehead. "We were waiting for you, my dearest" she said affectionately. Then, taking his hand to guide him to his seat, she turned to her. "Princess, we did not expect you. What a lovely surprise" she added with a smile.

She felt a small knot of uncertainty in her stomach, wondering if she was intruding, but Aemond wouldn't have sought her out if that were the case. She returned the queen's smile and noticed how she gestured to the servants, who quickly added a chair and tableware next to Helaena. Helaena smiled at her and, before she could greet her, moved towards that newly added chair, giving up her place directly in front of Aemond, which she appreciated. Perhaps Helaena wanted her to sit opposite her brother, or simply preferred not to be near Aegon, an understandable preference.

She sat down with a grateful smile, though still somewhat uncomfortable. The feast began, and musicians played cheerful ballads that filled the air with a festive atmosphere. Laughter and conversation flowed along the table, and she almost forgot how much she missed her family, caught up in the distraction of the moment. She noticed that the wine jug beside her needed refilling more often than others, and wondered how long it would be before Aegon spoiled the mood. He was fun and pleasant when sober, but she couldn't say the same when he was drunk.

"Princess, I heard you've been learning High Valyrian" said the king, smiling at her with somewhat weary eyes. She smiled happily at the question, and Aemond paid attention, interested in the conversation.

"Yes, your grace. Aemond has been an excellent instructor" she replied proudly.

"She is making incredible progress" Aemond added, shyly.

"I bet it comes easy to you, just like your mother" the king said, smiling before taking a sip of wine. Perhaps to an untrained eye, Aemond's slight disappointment might have gone unnoticed, but she saw it, and understood why. She couldn't blame the king for loving his daughter so much, as her mother was a splendid person, but she felt sorry that he didn't see the fortune in having Helaena and Aemond, who were just as intelligent and kind.

"With Aemond as my guide, it's only natural for me to learn quickly, your grace" she said, smiling at Aemond. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, and the king looked pleased with the response, nodding before moving on to another conversation. Aegon's raised eyebrows and mischievous smile did not go unnoticed.

Helaena was showing her a figure she always carried, a wooden butterfly that Viserys had given her when she was a baby. She wondered if maybe that was the origin of her fascination with insects. As they continued talking, she felt an unfamiliar finger tangle in one of her curls, pulling it lightly. It was Aegon, who was looking at her hair with mocking attention.

"The Arryn blood is strong, is it not, niece?" he said sarcastically, and in a low voice, ensuring the king did not hear.

She tensed at the comment, and Helaena looked at Aegon disapprovingly. Her body stiffened, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In that moment, she inwardly cursed herself for not wearing black and for wearing her hair loose, proudly displaying her curls. Aegon simply removed his finger and engaged in another conversation, losing interest in teasing her, but she couldn't return to her previous state.

Helaena gently squeezed her hand, offering a small supportive smile, but it did little to calm her. Aemond didn't seem to hear the remark, for which she was thankful.

She felt more alone than ever, like an uninvited guest in a place she once called home. And she came to understand her siblings' anger at such insults, not to the same extent, of course, but she did.

The rest of the dinner passed without further incidents. Some guests joined in a lively dance once the meal was over, and laughter was heard in the hall as the wine continued to flow.

Aemond glanced at her several times, concerned about her obvious discomfort. She didn't want to spoil his celebration, so she tried to offer a reassuring smile whenever their eyes met.

She found herself caught up in various pleasant conversations with the other nobles present, mostly with Daeron, who was her same age, and Heleana. She tried to keep away from Aegon as much as possible. Aemond, on his part, approached her on several occasions, rescuing her from the dull talks of the elders. He tried to distract her with amusing anecdotes from his training or asked her about stories of dragons, which she knew by heart. Though her mind was elsewhere, she appreciated his efforts to make her feel comfortable and protected.

Finally, as the feast began to wind down into the night, Aemond approached her with determination in his eyes.

"Princess, would you like to take a walk through the gardens? The night is beautiful" he suggested.

She smiled, grateful for the chance to get away from the bustle. "I would love to, my prince."

Together, they left the main hall and made their way to the quiet gardens of the castle. The moon shone above them, illuminating their flowers lined path as they walked silently along. Aemond seemed less tense now, more relaxed under the starry sky, offering her his arm courteously.

"I'm sorry if anything made you uncomfortable tonight" Aemond finally said, breaking the silence. "I hope nothing else happened" he murmured, a slight concern in his eyes.

She shook her head gently, feeling comforted by his worry. "It's not your fault, Aemond. I'm fine. Just... I'm not used to being without my family."

He nodded, looking at her with understanding. "I know. And I know sometimes people can be... thoughtless" he said, almost apologizing again.

They walked a bit further in silence before she found the courage to speak about what she was really thinking. "Do you ever feel that way, Aemond?" she hesitated for a moment. "Like you don't quite fit in?"

He stopped and looked at her directly, uncertain. His eyes, under the full moon and clear sky, seemed deeper, more reflective, sadder at her question. "Sometimes," he admitted softly, "but when I'm with you, princess, everything seems to fall into place. I do hope you feel the same."

Her heart skipped at his sincere words, feeling a twinge of guilt for longing to return to her family. "Thank you, Aemond. Should we head back? It's getting chilly."

He smiled, softening his features. "Yes."

They continued walking together, enjoying the peace and serenity of the night. As they progressed, leaving the gardens behind and climbing the keep stairs, she said, "I hope you've enjoyed your day, my prince." He nodded. Once they reached the hallway they shared, she whispered: "Should I visit you tonight?"

"Of course" he replied naturally, offering a comforting smile.

"You said Aegon would bring your gift, I wouldn't want to arrive at an inopportune moment" she said, reminding him.

He nodded, realizing he had forgotten his earlier conversation with his brother. "You're right. Maybe I should come instead. I can come right after he leaves" he suggested, and she eagerly agreed to the plan.

When they finally stood in front of the door, with no one in sight, her hands began to sweat nervously. It was just a temporary farewell, like countless others before, so she didn't understand why her body felt so restless, or why her heart was pounding so hard. And why were her thoughts centered on whether kissing him would ease her mind?

Before pushing the door, she turned to him, catching Aemond’s smile, oblivious to her internal doubts. "May I, perhaps, try something?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, hoping she hadn't misinterpreted any signals.

He arched an eyebrow, curious at her question, but nodded in consent. Without further ado, she took a step forward and, with determination, closed the distance between them. She pressed her lips gently against his, all her questions melting away in that fleeting moment. She closed her eyes, unable to see Aemond's initial surprise.

When they parted, Aemond's face was flushed, his eye wide with astonishment, causing a flutter of concern in her chest. Before she could apologize, he mirrored her action, leaning in and returning the innocent kiss. This time, both closed their eyes, letting themselves be carried away by the moment as their hands instinctively intertwined.

As they pulled away, shy but content smiles graced their faces. The special discovery left them breathless.

"Goodnight" she whispered, a thrilling buzz inside her.

"Goodnight" he replied with equal softness and carrying the same exhilaration.

Once inside, the room was again in perfect order, something she was thankful for. Aemond always seemed to value the organization and she wanted him to feel like in his own space. Peaceful, comfortable, happy. Her chambers were perfectly illuminated by the moon and the glow of the fire burning in the fireplace, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

She walked to the door she used every night, leaving it slightly ajar, then shed her dress, donning her nightgown and slipping immediately into bed. She tried to immerse herself in the book on her nightstand, but her mind kept returning to the shared kiss. Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, she wondered if it had also been Aemond's first time. She hoped it was.

Soon she realized it was futile to try to distract herself with the book. Her heart still raced, and her mind was full of questions and anticipations. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to stay still as she waited for Aemond to arrive. She was worried, fearing she had ruined everything with her impulsiveness. Or worse, that Aemond had changed his mind after that.

Exhaustion finally overcame her, her head swirling with thoughts, and she fell asleep hoping everything would be okay between them.

The sun stung her face as she began to wake, the warmth of the morning enveloping her. There were faint noises in the room, but still too sleepy to make them out, she tried to ignore them. Suddenly, her eyes flew wide open and she sat up abruptly. The bed was empty, but the secondary door remained open, an invitation to scolding from her lady-in-waiting.

Lyra soon noticed she was awake. With a sorrowful expression, she approached the bed slowly and sat beside her. The princess's gaze searched for answers, but none of her assumptions came close to the reality.

"A raven has arrived today from Dragonstone, my princess..." Lyra began softly, choosing her words carefully. She nodded, attentive and anxious to know more, urging her to continue. "Your father, Prince Leanor, has passed away" she announced.

With those words, the princess's entire world shattered once more in an instant. Tears began to cascade uncontrollably, unleashed without any permission, but she knew it was only a matter of time, a storm that had been brewing finally erupted. Her overwhelming feelings of longing for her family and the unsettling sense of being like a stranger in the castle where she had grown up intensified her anguish even more. Guilt and regret gnawed at her, constricting her chest and stealing the air in her lungs. Lyra tried to soothe her, urging her to breathe, but it was in vain. 

So many moons spent in the Red Keep, precious time lost with her father that could never be reclaimed. Now, with the loss irreversible, she couldn't even seek answers about how it happened, the trauma of Harwin Strong's death still raw. Her chest tightened, heaving, as her mind spun relentlessly, refusing to accept what her ears had heard.

Lyra enveloped her in protective arms, a bulwark against the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her as the harsh news unfolded before her. "We must leave immediately, there is a ship waiting for us" she murmured softly, aware of the princess's magnitude of pain, but to the urgency of the situation too.

Tears continued to flow unabated as she nodded, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of loss and guilt that engulfed her. She allowed herself to be consumed by it while Lyra hurriedly guided and helped her dress. Once ready, servants entered to assist with the luggage, moving efficiently as those who understood the gravity of the moment, and Lyra asked her to wait while she gathered her own belongings.

When the lady disappeared from her sight, she, with a pounding heart, hurried to Aemond's room. Upon arrival, Queen Alicent was just stepping out, her face a mask of concern and sorrow.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, princess" she said with palpable sincerity in her voice, closing the door behind her, but condolences were a luxury she could not afford now. She needed to see if everything was okay with Aemond before leaving, the thought of departing without clarity on their relationship or at least a farewell filled her with unease.

"Is Aemond awake? I wish to see him" she implored softly, tears silently streaming down her face. People passed around her—members of the council, servants—all casting sympathetic glances that went unnoticed.

"He does not wish to receive visitors at the moment" the queen replied firmly.

"But it is urgent" she insisted, desperation seeping into her voice. She tried to move past her and grasp the door handle, her hands trembling but determined, but the queen stopped her.

"I'm very sorry, princess, but you must understand" Alicent said, her tone unyielding.

On the brink of collapse, with each passing second more overwhelming than the last, she pleaded, "please" but received only refusals.

Moments later, Lyra appeared carrying a suitcase, hurrying towards her. "My princess, we must depart now" she said, after offering a courtesy to Alicent.

"But I need to see Aemond" she insisted, her voice a desperate whisper. Lyra looked to Alicent silently pleading for a concession, searching for a shred of sympathy, but the queen remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on the princess.

"We can exchange letters by ravens, yes? But the ship will depart soon, princess" Lyra said, her words weighted by both empathy and urgency.

She felt frustration and helplessness engulf her, on the verge of shouting in rage. With no other choice, she took Lyra's hand and let herself be led away, each step a battle against the hopelessness that surrounded her.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

Last part from her POV as kids!

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: I’ve missed this man. I hope you like? Next part will have some saucy little smut. Just trying this out first, also for self-indulgence.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, language, mentions of injuries, self-esteem issues, mentions depression and body image.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Plus size!Reader

Eddie Munson loves his new band of misfit friends, an extended family that has welcomed him and Wayne in with open arms. Hell, he’s even getting along with Harrington, Wheeler is tutoring him, and everyone else just understands. And then, well… Then there is you. He’s never seen someone so in tune with the needs of others without ever considering herself. Someone who purposely pushes herself on the world’s hottest back burner to avoid opening up and letting anyone truly see what’s going on… Behind incredibly beautiful eyes, if Eddie does say so himself.

It’s been over a year since shit unfolded with Vecna. They lost, he died for a little while, the apocalypse reigned down on the town and then he wasn’t dead anymore. Memories are vague, but most things he does remember. And when he wakes up tangled in his bedsheets, scars aching with prickles of phantom pains - you are the only person that he calls. A lot of times he ends up singing you to sleep, but it’s not without you always making sure he’s calmed and okay first.

It was a bond that grew since you began caring for him when he came back with memories. He’s lost track of days spent together, lunches shared, a graduation a long time coming, complete with a party he never expected to have. He isn’t sure when it became a deeper feeling than he’s ever known, one that scared him so damn bad he avoided you for days and began physically ill because of it. If Eddie Munson has to pick one moment, it was probably that day you walked into his Uncle’s living room, (a cookout happening in his yard with Steve and Wayne at the grill outside) your beautiful curves on display, a cherry sundress hitting you in all the right places, and some strappy red sandals adorning your feet. You wore a glowing smile beneath your bright red lipstick, energy matching with Henderson’s as you entertained his enthusiasm for Hellfire’s next campaign.

You didn’t have a clue of what you were talking about, but it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You were passionate about writing, you enjoyed Sci-Fi and fantasy, which meant you had to be the one who helped Dustin create new characters. He knew the game, you had some extra creativity to lend. You’d high fived Dustin, stealing his pen to jot down your scribbled suggestions on his spiral sheet. Eddie was a goner.

And now… Here you are, at his house, on a Friday night. You didn’t have plans, you didn’t make a date - nothing. You did what you normally do and called him up, accepting his invite to hang out all evening. He’d made sure to be off work by a steady time, picking up your favorite bakery cookies at the store on the way home, lingering over flowers that he was sure he should get, but knew it would probably cross a line if he did so. Eddie doesn’t want you to feel spooked, or even anything remotely close to uncomfortable around him.

You’re sitting above him, cross-legged on his bed as he rests with bent knees at the foot, your overalls bagging out at the sides to show your crop top with little lemons and daisies printed all over it, and the most delicious, overflowing curves Edward Munson has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He’s got a pair of your maroon sweats tied down, extremely loose on his narrow hips, and one of your decorative character shirts with a picture of Eeyore plastered front and center, hanging across his torso. You might not be able to wear his clothes, but he can wear yours, and Eddie would be stupid to say he doesn’t notice your eyes crossing a little whenever he steps into some of your ensembles. You’ve been chattering away at the TV, giving your input on Friday the 13th part 2, whilst being blissfully unaware of sending Eddie to heaven with your pink brush running through his freshly washed curls, your neon yellow painted nails scratching at his scalp. He’s like a mother fucking purring cat in your grasp.

“So, anyways… I can’t figure out if Muffin survived or if that was her in the woods. And did Paul really make it out too, or was Jenny imagining shit?”

Eddie smirks, tilting his head back to look at the curvature of your physique, the contours of your face - upside down (no pun intended). “Haven’t you seen this movie, like, a thousand times before?”

You have a mock look of offense. “Hmph.” He doesn’t like what it brings, because you can tease, but please - for the love of all things unholy - don’t stop brushing his hair.

“Hey, hey. Why’d you quit?” He’s pouting, it’s rather cute. One tattooed arm, decorated with scars - elongates, ring clad hand seeking out your wrist. Anything to get you into motion again.

“You know that you can brush your own hair, Eddie.” You’re melting at those fluttering lashes draped over an enriching, smooth chocolate pair of irises. And his mouth… Fuck.

“But it’s so much better when you do it, sweetheart. Pleaseeeee? Forgive me for questioning your brilliant questions!?”

You make a good show of it, tossing the brush out of your hand, it landing a pile of Eddie’s clothes in an unpacked hamper. They’re clean, but he’d rather wear yours. He gasps, shifting positions so quick that you think Steve must’ve Ninja-fied him. He’s got you by your wrists, the cool of his rings tracking across your arms as they follow warm palms, and dip under your pits to gain leverage - easing you forward into a heap onto the carpeting with him. “Freak attack!” He’s gleeful, tickling your denim clad sides (well, at least where he pretends he can’t see the overspilling flesh more closely now).

He smells good, like that familiar Old Spice wash and whatever shampoo he’s lathered his curls with. He’s hovering, he’s incredibly warm, he’s safe, he’s Eddie. Someone you didn’t know you needed until he appeared and retrieved his piece of your heart, snapping it into the place where all the people you love have their own shards. Hmm, not entirely though. If you could describe it, it’s as if they make up the outside lining, keeping the inside of your heart reserved for a more… Different, private type of love, that only Eddie Munson seems to have found.

“Should spank your ass with that thing for stoppin’,” he starts, interrupting your reverie, moving to shut his mouth when he realizes he crossed a line. Maybe? It’s there, your eyes flicker over his lips, your hidden reaction dancing behind your pretty little temple - he sees, giving him a fraction of hope. He isn’t used to this…

You jolt, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, “Like that would be a punishment,” you finish, effectively crossing that line for him.

Both of you remain silent, your sweet perfume making him lose focus. What he thinks he should do and what he wants to do, those are two very different battles raging inside.

// Eat me paragraph //

[souglias]

cage of the unforgiving: chapter one [GINTOKI]

You have seen the Saviour of Yoshiwara before he earned that title. You have seen that wavy, silver-haired man before he stirred trouble with the Hyakka. You knew Gintoki even before he stepped foot into Yoshiwara. But you have forsaken too much to go back. Gintoki, on the other hand, holds onto too much to carry on.

Gintoki x f!reader. 16+ ONLY

c/w: Rated for the crude themes and also for my own comfort, no smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reader is a courtesan, reader smokes, possibly toxic behaviours because the two won't communicate straightforwardly (content warnings will be added if needed as the chapters go and pointed out each time if any)

chapter word count: 3.1k

note: thanks for opening my fic! It's my first time attempting to write in this particular setting, writing themes and character development in a multi-chapter fic, so please forgive me for anything I lack in. I did my planning and research, but it's still something new to me :"). Any constructive feedback will be well appreciated!

cross-posted on AO3 (accessible from my profile)!

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

-

There is a famed rumour of a room in Yoshiwara. A closed space that gives you the things you desire. Anywhere, anything and anyone. Most people believe it works because of some technology that the Amanto has installed. The more absurd reason going around is magic. 

Word goes that only a select few high-ranking courtesans have seen it, and no one knows who exactly because none of them talk about it. You are of a high rank, but you are not ranked high enough to have been in it. Any thoughts of even asking about it is wishful. It’s bullshit anyway and likely entertainment among the courtesans.

But it doesn’t stop you from thinking about it. Does the grasp of the artificial neon lights reach the inside? What would you see if you ever stepped foot inside? You have a few guesses, and you always dream of them. You dream of the dojo back in Shoka Sonjuku when you hold a shinai in both hands. You dream of the classroom with sliding doors facing the outside wide open, the breeze tickling your face during lessons. You dream of your old home, your brother beside you at the small floor table before he had become bedridden from illness.

One night, you dream of Gintoki, squabbling with Takasugi in the sunny yard. It escalates to them jumping atop each other. When Shoyo finally stops the fight in his peculiar manner, Gintoki catches you staring at him. He calls your name and your heart soars. You loved it when he said your name. It was much sweeter when it fell off his tongue. He wriggles his arms out of the ground and outstretches it towards you. You reach towards it with your own to pull him up.

Before you reach him, you wake up to the sound of your screeching alarm. As if something slipped out of it, your hand feels a little empty.

It’s an absurd dream. Everything that played out in it never happened in reality. And you’re not sure what you saw in that idiotic, crude boy when you were younger. You would never admit to anyone that you liked him.

Gintoki will remain as just a stupid boy in your past, adored by your old self who has died.

But you can’t help but feel your heart drop as you linger in your futon, alone in your dark room barely illuminated by the neon lights outside. A cloud hangs over you as the day progresses. You reach for your kiseru much earlier than usual as an attempt to lighten up, before you’re done with all the customers for the date. 

You prop your arms up on your window, letting your free hand hang freely outside of the window as you take a drag. 

Then you see him. 

A wavy, silver-haired samurai with several courtesans having their hands all over him. You almost drop your kiseru three floors down. You can barely hear what he’s saying, only catching the words “let go” and “clingy”. 

He should not be able to see you, but you shift to conceal yourself at the very edge of your window. Your gaze does not stray away from him, following him until he disappears from view. And it is only then you fully realise you are hiding. 

The sliding door of your room opens behind you, causing you to jump. Your attendant, a shy little girl who goes by Asami, notices your surprise as she addresses you by your professional name; your alias.

You put on a bright smile. “Is it time for the next appointment?”

Asami scrutinises you without her gaze being sharp, then nods. “I will guide them in when you are ready.”

Is Asami starting to see through you after all this while attending to you, or are you losing your cool over a mere samurai? You’re not sure which you would prefer. “Bring them in 10 minutes. Thank you.”

The next few hours pass quickly. You start by playing the koto for your customer. In between songs, you pour sake for him with a trained loving gaze. At some point, both of you are at your window, watching the smoke billowing from Hosen’s extravagant abode. The customer places a hand on your shoulder, which you assume is an attempt to assure you that everything will be okay. Perhaps it’ll do some good to pretend to be more alarmed, and you decide to slide your arms around his tightly as your show of anxiety. 

Everyone thinks that is the end of a minor accident, and they resume whatever they are doing for some time. 

Then it happened without warning. For you, it happens as you’re cleaning your room, a little after your customer leaves.

The ground quakes and a loud whirring noise surrounds the compound. Light enters the compound. First in a slow stream, then in a flood of rays. 

For the first time, there’s a square of blue at the corner of your window. It expands like a black canvas being added with more bright paint as you shift closer to it. A pastel yellow stretches itself out at the tatami floor near your window. When you move into the sun’s rays, their warmth begins to kiss your skin. A little unfamiliar, your arm feels a little prickly with the heat. But you do not shy away from it.

This must be the work of Gintoki. A wild guess, but it is one from deep in your gut. Even as uncertainty for the future grows in your chest, you continue to bask in the light and drink in the azure sky above you.

Asami comes by and tells you that there is no news on what has happened. Before she manages to leave, you pat the spot right next to you. “Come, sit with me by the window.” 

Her eyes widen and she asks, “What if a patron comes by?”

“That will be unlikely. Everyone’s too worried about what’s going on to come without an appointment.”

She remains kneeling at the entrance of your room, picking at her fingernails. 

You add, “Don’t worry, I will take responsibility if anyone comes looking for trouble. Or you can take this as your order from me. Accompany me.” 

You take a last puff of smoke for a while and keep your kiseru away in your kimono. You don’t like to smoke in the presence of children.

Asami is stiff when she sits next to you. You remain silent, letting her make herself comfortable at her own pace. Sometimes, you despise your rank, making you more intimidating than you want to be. The only ones who do not fear you are the ones who are above you or those who see you as their enemy. But you did not have the privilege to choose, and you let the recurring thought pass again.

The day passes with you unmoved from your window. You don’t realise how much you miss the sun until it sets at the end of the day. Even after Asami leaves, you continue to watch the hues of the sky shift. Only when the sun enters its deep slumber to make way for a hazy moon, do you reluctantly pull yourself away from your window.

Word goes around fast in Yoshiwara and you get up to date in less than a day. Tsukuyo is now the new leader of Yoshiwara. Hinowa has stepped down as the top favoured courtesan and she makes a living at a humble food shop behind the building that houses your room. A silver-haired samurai is one of those behind everything, and he is hailed as the “Saviour of Yoshiwara”. His popularity and reputation among the women have skyrocketed. His name has become a sweet candy on the tip of the tongues of many.

His name is everywhere now, mildly unsettling you with how it grates in your mind too.

Whenever you are not working, you wonder if he still comes to Yoshiwara to visit. Right before a scheduled appointment, you wonder if he is only a mere distance from you, eating dango at Hinowa’s shop. You wonder if he’s fucking other girls, letting them freely say his name as they please. 

Gintoki, Gintoki, Gintoki. You are sure you no longer harbour any sort of puppy love for him, but his name echoes so torturously in your mind. You want to know how he’s been. You want to hear about what he’s been up to, and where the others are. You want to see if he has grown into a fine guy, worth the embarrassment of knowing you had feelings for his snotty younger self.

Hinowa may be able to fill you in about him, or maybe you could see him at her shop. If he isn’t there, perhaps she could reach out to him for you. 

Yet along with this ever-growing desire, accompanies an increasingly bitter aftertaste in your mouth each time you serve a patron. Every lie you put out hammers a trembling nail into your heart.

You are now a far cry from who you were, especially with you having renounced your old name.

How would Gintoki see the version of you now?

Morning comes with rain. You head out to find Hinowa, an umbrella overhead. However, your steps become heavier and you stop in your tracks just as the shop comes into view. The rain beat incessantly at your umbrella. 

How would Gintoki see you now? What would Gintoki think about you?

You turn back. It would be better for him to think of you dead or missing, with the memory of you untarnished. Gintoki will never find you. He does not know you are here in Yoshiwara, and almost no one in Yoshiwara knows of your real name. There is not enough of your past lying around.

You smoke again the moment you get back. The smell of smoke in your closed room soon gets on your nerves despite only a few puffs. Shoving your window open, you let the rain splatter in and onto yourself.

–

“I apologise if this is prying, but has something happened?”

Asami’s question almost goes unheard with the distance between the door and window, and how soft-spoken she is. You just smile, asking her what led her to that question as she remains at your door. She dismisses the question.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Her averted gaze comes back to you briefly as you move closer to her. “You’ve been sitting at your window a lot.” 

You fall silent, painfully aware that you’re seated right at the place she pointed out. Her statement unintentionally reminds you that you’ve been watching the streets of Yoshiwara a little too often, searching for someone you shouldn’t be. Too often for your liking.

Asami timidly looks back at you. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to be a busybody.”

You slide over to the entrance, reassuring her with a pat on her head. “No, it’s okay. Everything is okay. Regardless, tell me why you are here.”

“Lady Hinowa has requested for you to see her tomorrow at 2.30 pm at Hino-ya. You don’t have appointments during that time at the current moment.” 

Your chest knots. You tell Asami to relay that you will be there, and she heads off.

There are many reasons why Hinowa would see you. It could be about your clientele, a request for help, or intel on a fellow courtesan. There are so many reasons, such that the reason for having to do something with Gintoki should be small. 

Your night before is thankfully free of appointments, and you glance at the bright streets one last time before shutting the window. The window does not seem to filter the neon lights well tonight, and sleep eludes you with the myriad of colours on the other side of your eyelids.

After some tossing and turning, your mind idles with frivolous thoughts. Maybe if you could find that stupid room, it could give you some sleep. A room untouched by others, with temperatures unbounded by the weather outside.

You manage to drift to sleep at an ungodly hour. But whatever little sleep you got, it wasn’t good. You dreamt of a past that didn’t happen with Gintoki, again.

Gintoki was walking by your side to your home. His arms were crossed behind his head and he only looked straight ahead without a word. You walked silently too, feeling down for an unknown reason. 

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know why he was apologising, and you didn’t feel any better hearing it. There was sincerity in it and weight to it, but it didn’t ease the unexplained storm in your heart at all.

You don’t remember stepping through the front door of your house. But at some point, both of you ended up in your home. A steaming, big bowl of miso soup was placed in front of each of you. He had finished his portion first and he picked his nose as he waited for you to empty yours at your pace.

You flung a tissue box at him, warning him not to flick his booger onto your floor. Then, you asked him if it was good. Your brother always made miso soup for you on your birthday. It wasn’t anything out of this world, but you held it close to your heart. 

He hummed in agreement. 

This time, you wake up without any sort of call or alarm. But you feel violently awakened and sick to the stomach. You swear off thinking about the ever-so-desired room. It’s a personal recipe for a disastrous dream.

When you leave for Hino-ya, the idling courtesans eye you. One or two who you’ve known to have a distaste for you look towards you sharply. They speak softly, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Why would Lady Hinowa want to see her?” 

You don’t really know why they’re bothering to pry. Maybe Keeping Up with the Kardashians isn't enough to keep them entertained.

“Maybe she’s gotten into some trouble.”

With that follows some giggles that you ignore with practice.

Your feet get heavy once again as Hino-ya comes into view. However, you could not turn back even if you wanted to. Hinowa invites you to sit with a smile, as she wheels herself over to you with a plate of dango. She greets you with your alias, which slightly eases your worry. 

Hinowa gets straight to the point.

“Do you know Sakata Gintoki?”

Your breath catches in your throat. But you quickly collect yourself.

“He’s the one who saved all of us.”

“No, do you know him personally?” 

A moment of silence lapses between the two of you. Hinowa drops her practiced smile that she shows to customers and lets concern show on her face. 

“[name], if you don’t want to talk about it, you can tell me.” 

Hinowa is the only courtesan left who knows your name. It may have been a long while since you both talked, but her use of your real name makes you crack a little.

“Yes.”

“Did you know him from before you came to Yoshiwara?”

You nod, and she continues. “He has asked about you, looking for you with your real name,” she pauses a little as she searches your face for any emotion, “I didn’t tell him I knew you right off. He started to describe you to me… as if he knows you like the back of his hand. I only said I could do some searching on my part.”

Her next line chips off a little of your heart. “But he’s told me not to set him up with you, because he doesn’t have money.”

Your thoughts begin to run. You imagine his judgmental gaze on you. Does he think so lowly of you now that you’d want him to pay up to see you? If money isn’t an issue, does he want to see you at all? 

Gently, Hinowa puts a pause to your thoughts with an offer. “If you would like, I can arrange a meeting for the two of you.”

He’s just making excuses so he doesn't have to see you. 

(This is the bitter pill you choose to swallow. And that will put an end to whatever wishful thoughts you harbour.)

“I don’t want to see that piece of shit either, especially since he can’t pay.”

With that, you forcibly change the focus of the conversation to Hinowa. The two of you catch up till dusk, with a few pauses in the conversation for her to serve customers their food. At the end of the day, both of you ease back into the bosom friends that you were before Hosen had locked Hinowa up.

Despite the light-hearted end to your conversation with Hinowa, you drag your feet as the distance between you and her shop grows. You can still turn back. You can still take it all back. 

But you do not succumb to the temptation calling you out behind in, only caving in when you are standing at the entrance of your building, where you can no longer see her shop. With the closed door of this opportunity, a knife twists in your heart.

That night, a client asks if you love him. Clients and patrons love to do this, and you utter it effortlessly and convincingly every time. There’s longevity with a customer only if you tell them what they want to hear.

But this time, you feel like you can no longer say it with as much faux conviction as you used to.

In the days after, you make yourself practice again and again. Until you’ve convinced yourself that you could love a stranger for a night.

-

A last-minute patron has been scheduled for the initially empty night. You berate the patron as you smear the pale white foundation on your face, though you begin to calm yourself as soon as you move on to your rogue. If someone could obtain time with you at the eleventh hour, he must be someone of stature. 

As you await him in a seiza position, the shuffling of footsteps outside becomes louder. You mentally check your smile and rehearse your attitude.

When the door opens, you briefly see a half-worn white kimono with blue waves as you lower your head to the floor. Panic courses through your body and you feel your smile waver. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be broke and unable to come. By sheer habit, you recite the greeting you give new customers like a recorder. The greeting contains your alias, sewn into a sentence with “sir” and “I will serve you tonight.”

When you raise your head to face him, your eyes meet a pair of widened crimson eyes. 

Shoka Sonjuku. Shinai. Home. Miso soup. You almost forget where you are. 

Shoyo. Takasugi. Katsura. You almost say his name, when you should not know it. You cannot, when you have chosen to start by introducing yourself as a stranger with a name unknown to him. 

[cas-skz]

Reunite

Yunho x FEM!reader

| non-idol au | ex to lovers | smut/romance | 18+!!!

A end of summer get away brought you let friend group together for a weekend away at a beach house. While you’re still on good terms with your ex Yunho, the spark you felt for him never left.

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, possible water (sinking) trigger

[writers note]

I have a mild (jk it’s severe) case of delulu related gif now & needed a Yunho fic that was adorable but kinda tense since there’s gonna be more parts. Heheh

Enjoy!!!

cas xx

Somehow summer was already coming to an end. Your friends shared plans for when they get back to university, jobs they were working. It made your heart happy to be back with your high-school friend group, even if your ex was there.

Your eyes zoned out as you watched the bonfire burn, music from the rented beach house filled the yard. Everyone had most ly scattered to swim or drink in the house, but you wanted to sit and take in the moment.

“You look lonely.”

His voice was still so familiar to you, the deep but sweet tone you’d spent hours talking to. A cold can gently hit your shoulder and you glanced up at Yunho offering your favourite alcoholic drink.

He cracked it open with one finger as you took it into your hand, “Thanks.” You smiled softly, directing your eyes back to the fire as he took a seat on the log next to you.

“You still have a tendency to wander off on your own, huh?” He chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “How’ve you been?”

“Okay, I guess.” You shrugged, taking a long drink. “How about you?”

Even after being broken up for almost 3 years, Yunho still brought you warmth and comfort whenever he was near. You didn’t dare to admit you still had feelings for him after all this time.

“Pretty good. I start a internship in New York in a couple of weeks.”

“You always wanted to go to New York. Congrats.”

His eyes flashed over to you, making your heart skip a beat. “I wanted to go to New York with you.” He paused, taking a drink before looking towards the ground. “Just kinda feels weird going alone.”

Your eyes stayed on him for a moment, scanning his features, his hands and arms. Yunho had gotten more and more attractive over the years,

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing. You’ve wanted this since high-school.”

The conversation went on for a while and everyone had headed inside while the two of you watched the fire slowly die down.

You remembered exactly why you fell in love with him. The way he told stories, but couldn’t help but laugh half way through. His smile, your favourite thing about him. You especially loved how he always checked to make sure you were okay as you continued to drink together.

Yunho had disappeared into the house to change clothes while you walked towards the late, eyes locked on the millions of stars in the sky. The moon reflecting off the water make everything look picture perfect.

Your mind drifted as you stripped to your underwear and bra, the drunken buzz made your body feel electric. You slowly walked into the water, letting your hands drag along the surface. When your feet couldn’t find ground anymore, you took a deep breath and sunk under the water.

The splash in the water shook you back to reality and almost immediately after you felt strong arms pulling you to the surface.

You gasped for air as you broke through the top of the water, Yunho immediately grabbed onto you in a panic. “What are you doing?!”

“I just…” your voice trailed as you looked at him. You weren’t actually sure why you had gone into the water, but it wasn’t with ill intentions. “I’m sorry…”

His hands were cupped around your jawline as your bodies floated in the water and you could feel your heart racing as you bobbed closer and closer to each other. Before you could say another word, his lips crashed into yours, sending chills through your body as he kissed you passionately.

Your emotions over came you as tears started to fall. You had been aching for him for so long that you couldn’t hold yourself back as you roughened the kiss.

Yunho followed your lead, pulling your core into his as he started to swim back towards the shore, sharing hot and heavy kisses as he did.

As you got to the shore, Yunho picked you up bridal style to carry you back towards the fire, now glowing embers that still radiated heat. A blanked laid out next to it is where you landed, lips still stuck to his as he hovered his body over yours.

You pulled him into you, muffling a soft moan as you felt his erection rub against your already throbbing clit. “Yuyu..” you gasped quietly as his hips grinder into yours.

Yunho’s lips travelled to your neck, sucking on your sweet spots that he remembered after all your time apart. His breath was hot and heavy in your ear, “I miss you so much,” he whined, moaning softly as his hips picked up speed.

“I need you.” You said shyly, reaching down to push down his sweat pants, allowing his stiff cock to rub against your clothed pussy.

It felt like you were melting from how aroused you had gotten, your mind already going blank as he pushed your panties aside and quickly found your entrance, teasing it before sliding inside.

Your nails dug into his back as he stretched you out, inching slowly inside before bottoming out and making you cum instantly.

You pulled his lips back to yours, breathing him in as your bodies became one under the moonlight. Time felt still as you spent the next hour or so tangled around each other, finally moving into a near by tent setup outside.

Yunho’s hands ran slowly up your back and sides as you laid on him, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. If you could pause time for a while, you’d do it. Having him so close again felt so right, but it also torn you apart knowing he’d be gone again after the weekend.

“Y/N?”

“Yea?” Your looked up at him, a soft smile spread across his lips as your eyes met.

“Come to New York with me.”

[starogeorgina]

Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/reader

Warnings: Swearing, child birth

Notes: Like most of my stories, this was written during/after a nightshift, so I apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Thanks to everyone who's kept up with broken bonds so far; I'm so excited for the next part, which catches up with the show!

2.07

The sound of metal clanging together echoes throughout the yard as knights train. You watch proudly as your husband wins each training match without another knight's sword even scraping his armorer.

“The young ones are very taken with Ser Harwin,” your father chuckles watching as Vaegon watches the training mesmerized.

You smile at your father and squeeze his hand, which was covered by a leather glove. Whatever infection your father had spread to the bones in his hand, causing him to become seriously ill, to the point he almost died, but a maester chosen by Rhaenyra managed to save your father's life by cutting off two of his fingers to stop the rot from spreading. Aerion sat on the opposite side of you, his head resting against your side. He had become a lot more clingy recently; you just put it down to his age and the slight jealousy of the new baby coming. You smooth Aerion’s hair, feeling content not only watching Harwin continue to win but also the interactions between your sons and their grandsire.

You focus back on the training yard and notice Harwin looking behind you with a darkness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. You look over your shoulder to see Criston Cole standing smugly. Aegon had let slip that the knight had called yours and Rhaenyra’s sons bastard in front of himself, Aemond, and Helaena. Something that infuriated Harwin more than yourself

Each time you returned to the keep, it became more and more toxic.

—

You try your best to focus on your sons, who were staring up at you curiously, and not on the pain developing in your lower stomach. Vaegon had been excitedly telling you that his dragon, Nightmare, now had silver appearing underneath their black scales when you first felt the pains begin.

“Is that so?” You say this, forcing a smile.

You had sent your lady-in-waiting to look for Harwin some time ago; he had gone to greet his sister Cassandra, who had come to stay before traveling to Dragonstone on boat with her brother and your sons. However, it seemed that they may miss the birth, as you suspected your labor was due to start shortly. You were supposed to be leaving in the morrow to Dragonstone, but you couldn’t wait any longer; as soon as your husband arrived, you’d need to leave. Just as you consider sending the knight standing guard in the hallway outside your quarters to go find Rhaenyra, Harwin bursts through the door.

“Vaella!” He rushes to your side and asks, “Is the baby coming? Should I send for the maester?”

“Maester?” You chuckle, placing your hands on the lower back. “The maester and midwives who will be delivering this baby are already on Dragonstone. We need to go to them now.”

“My love, we cannot possibly travel whil-”

“Do as you wish, husband, but I am going to the dragonpit. This baby will not be born here.” You place the palm of your hand against the wall to help keep your balance as the pain intensifies, making sure to smile at your sons so they don’t become scared of seeing you in pain. You let out a deep puff of air. “You can either fly on dragon back with me or go by boat with the boys.”

Frustrated by your stubbornness, Harwin calls his sister, who you hadn’t even heard come in. “Cassandra, look after the boys. I need to let Princess Rhaenyra know we are leaving immediately. She will take care of getting you and the boys to Dragonstone.”

—

As you walk along Harwin’s side, he takes a peek at you from the corner of his eye. You lick at your lips and say, “I know what you’re thinking, and absolutely not.”

You were being more than stubborn now; you were being outright difficult because you’d lost your sense of reason, but you knew Harwin would reach a point where he’d no longer listen to you. After a few moments, Harwin puts a comforting hand on your arm, stopping you from walking any further, and you turn to look up at him. He gives you a small shake of his head and says, “I can’t watch you suffer.”

From the moment Varos arrived on the island, Harwin insisted he carry you since the shooting pains in your stomach were getting closer together, but you refused. “We aren’t much further, plus I’m far too heavy.”

Despite your protests, he picks you up in bridal style and carries you the short distance to the castle. Harwin was the strongest man you knew, but you were still afraid the weight of you would be on too much for him, but you are proven wrong when he didn't even break a sweat by the time you reached the castle entrance.

—

“I can't do it!” Your voice trembles as you’re overwhelmed with pain.

You clutch the blood-stained material of the nightgown you’d changed into so tight that your knuckles turn white. Your contractions had lasted nearly a full day before you dilated far enough for the midwives to announce you were fully in labor. The only positive from your labor being dragged out was that the rest of your family had arrived on time.

“It won’t be long now,” Rhaenyra says, “and this will be over soon.”

Rhaenyra sits by your side, holding your hand as Cassandra dabs at your forehead with a damp rag. Exhaustion had almost overtaken you on several occasions, but your sister and sister-in-law had been the strength that you needed. Your husband had been long sent out of the room. The moment Harwin noticed the blood running down your legs, he started to sway on his feet, and not needing the distraction of panic from him passing out, the midwife in charge ordered him to wait in the next room.

“One more big push.”

You feel as if all the air is sucked from your lungs as you scream louder than you ever have before, bringing your new baby into the world. All the pain you’d suffered was worth it the moment your screaming newborn was placed in your arms.

“It’s a girl princess,” the midwife says before waving to someone to fetch more towels.

Tears of happiness spring to your eyes. “Healthy?”

“Healthy as a horse princess.”

“You’ve no idea how happy I am to meet you, my precious girl.” Smiling, you kiss her on the nose. “Can someone tell Harwin the baby is okay? But please don’t tell him it’s a girl.”

Cassandra places a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll go get my brother.”

Rhaenyra kisses the side of your head, “I’m so proud of you. She’s so beautiful.”

“Thank you." More tears fall from your eyes. “I promised Vaegon and Aerion that they could pick a dragon egg once the baby was born. Could you take them?”

“Of course,” she says, kissing you one last time on the cheek before leaving to get your sons.

Just like her brothers, your daughter had thick, dark hair. You accept a wet cloth from the midwife and gently start to clean her face. It doesn’t take long for the afterbirth to pass, and shortly after Harwin comes into the room,

“My beautiful, strong-willed wife,” he says with the widest smile on his face. “May I?”

You nod and gently hand her over to him. “It’s a girl.”

His face lights up. “A girl, our baby girl.”

Your lady-in-waiting uses the opportunity to fuse over you, fluffing up the pillows at your back to help keep you up right. She reminds you to rest and drink plenty of fluids over the next few days. You thank her and insist she finishes for the night.

You reach for his free hand and link your fingers with his. “I’m sorry I was so stubborn.”

“It’s one of the many things I love about you.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Have you decided a name from the ones we picked out?”

“No, I think you should pick it. It’s only fair since I picked the boys names.”

Harwin lets go of your hand and sits down on the bed beside you, his free hand now wrapped around your waist, while the other holds your daughter carefully. “Ada,” he says, “Ada Strong.”

—

Laying in your bed, you cradle your newborn gently, breastfeeding her with a smile on your face. Across the room, Harwin is slouched in one of the chairs with Vaegon and Aerion on either side of him. Your sons had picked out the perfect pink egg to place in the cradle with their sister, but they had both fallen asleep long before they got the chance to actually meet her.

Just as your daughter stops feeding, the door to the room opens and Rhaenyra steps in, doing her best to remain quiet. “I heard my niece has a name now,” she whispers. “Ada, I believe?”

“Harwin chose it.”

She pulls up a chair and sits beside it, watching as your daughter closes her eyes. Once she’s asleep, you put her in the crib, which is a short distance from your side of the bed.

When you turn back around, you see that your sister's eyes have glossed over. “Rhaenyra, what is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong; I’ve just been thinking that you should stay here.”

“What?”

She tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and says, "You belong here with your family.”

“But Dragonstone belongs to you, Rhaenyra,” you point out. “Besides, you are my family. I don’t want to be apart from you, Jace, and Luke.”

“I can’t change my own fate, but I can change yours. I wish for you to stay here. I don’t want the greens digging their claws into your sons and dripping poison into their ears. You’ve always wanted to live here.”

“Rhaenyra,” you say sternly, but quickly lower your voice when you notice Harwin stirring. “I’m not going to leave you on your own in court, not again.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Rhaenyra wipes your tears away with her thumb. Softly, she says, “I’m the elder; it’s me who should be looking out for you.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“Very well, as heir to the throne, and your future queen, I commanded it. I command that you stay on this island with your husband and children. Dragonstone has always been your home, Vaella,” she presses her forehead against yours. “We will only be one short dragon ride away from each other.”

“I will miss you.”

“We could see each other every day if we wished. I just want to know that at night you’re safe and away from all the badness at court. I’m doing this because I love you.”

“Will you stay here with us for a while longer? I don’t want you going home just yet.”

She nods. When Rhaenyra hugs you, tears fall freely from your eyes, but not because you are sad. Raising your family on Dragonstone was a dream come true, minus being apart from your sister. Of course you’d miss seeing your father and Aegon everyday, you imagined you’d fly back to the keep every couple of days to see them. But for the first time in years, you felt your mothers presence, you felt her in the warmth of your sister.

[transparentkinks]

More Poly shit

Because I'm poly and I wanna date every companion.

Ever since her lovers made clear their feelings to Nora one late, eventful night, Nora had quickly learned just how often her lovers wanted to jump her bones. Returning home from outings became much more eventful. Her companions had always made sure to drop in on her when they could when they heard she was back, and often simply expected to catch up at the next meal served out of the settlement’s kitchen. Of course she always spent time catching up with Shawn, telling him what she could about what she had been out doing and bringing him items she found to help him tinker. Now though, after she made her way to the settlement, her partners and Shawn were all present within the first hour of her return. 

Curie looks her over extensively for injuries or illness as soon as she can, feeling more confident lecturing Nora about ignoring her health now. Hancock has taken to stealing her bag off her the second he sees her, content to carry it for her wherever she ends up unloading her finds. Preston is quick to kiss her before updating her on her settlement’s safety. Piper, having started a paper to circulate between the settlements with the printing press Nora made her, made sure to give Nora updates and drill her for any action she saw in the wastes. Danse had taken to guarding the front gate along with Strong, and was often the first to greet her, hugging her tight enough to lift her off her feet. Maccready like always covered the village from his perch on the starlight drive in screen, picking off ferals and raiders before they even noticed the settlement. He was always at the gate when he saw Nora, having seen her in his sights before most others. 

Nick and Deacon had taken to minding and hunting down Shawn together to get him to see Nora, the boy often hyperfocused on whatever he chose to explore that day. He could be in his room, or chatting with settlers, or tinkering, or off in the scrap yard covered in mud and oil. He wasn’t always likely to realize his mom had returned. All of them, but especially Nick Curie and Deacon had started spending a lot of time with Shawn, working to give him an education like Nora tries to when she’s home. They help him tinker, and teach him things Nora wouldn’t be able to. He seems to thrive with his new abundance of parental figures. Between the hunting trips, the classes, the time spent together on projects, Nora could tell he was doing well. It made her even more happy now that when she arrived home from a trip, Shawn would greet her with stories of all the great things he did and learned while she was gone. 

They’d all get something to eat together at the community kitchen, and Nora couldn’t remember the last time she felt so happy, so surrounded by love. At least in her settlements, it felt like people were starting to live again, not just survive. Townfolk came out to eat and catch up with their neighbors, sitting around the tables of the dining room. Musicians brought out any instruments they hand, singers sang. People danced. Nora would end her night swaying with one of her lovers to the music before Shawn decided to turn in. She’d tuck him into bed, something she knew he didn’t with his age and competence need it, but it was a ritual they both enjoyed. 

Then, before she turned in for bed herself, one or more of her lovers would pull her away to have their fun with her. Nora was becoming more experienced sexually, and quickly became aware of growing dynamics among her lovers. Nick wasn’t super interested in sex, but to hear him tell it he enjoyed her responses and he enjoyed touching her. Curie seemed excited to experience sex, herself lacking much experience, but it seemed that Piper and Cait were eager to help her expand her horizons while Nora was on the road. Danse didn’t seem very sexually motivated, but he was always very romantic about it. Piper could be unpredictable, flipping like a switch on Nora. In one moment they could be laughing about something together, and in the next Piper could be pinning her against the nearest surface.

Mccreedy Deacon Hancock and Cait on the other hand were very sexual, seeming to deeply enjoy flustering Nora at any given chance. Practically the moment their relationship turned sexual they began pawing at Nora whenever she gave them the opportunity. 

So she really did expect it when Mccreedy pinned her between himself and the counter when she cleaned up her workstation. Deacon seemed to have followed him, and Nora knew the two of them conspired to get her alone.

“Always working on something huh.” Mccreedy spoke something pointless into her ear, an excuse to start kissing down her throat. Deacon made himself busy messing with things on her workbench, moving things and stopping her hands from grabbing different items. When Nora fixed him with a disapproving stare, he just winked at her before stealing a hand to pepper with kisses. 

‘“Waiting till late to trap me?” Nora teased, doing her best to continue her work and actually get things put away so it wouldn’t be a mess tomorrow. It was hard to ignore the lovely sensation of lips on her. 

“You know we can’t stay away from you baby” Mccreedy teased, bit her ear to make her jump and gasp. 

“I hope yer not plannin’ on hoarding her to yourself all night.” Cait remarked from the doorway into the house, looking to have dragged Piper and Curie along with her. Hancock seemed to have followed them, seeming to have caught on to what it means when Cait began dragging those two like she was on a mission. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it” Maccreedy pulled back Nora by her hips away from her work and Deacon released her hand. “You’re just in time for the fun.” Curie darted forward with an excited look in her eye. 

“I wanna try, hold her for me?” Curie requested. Macreedy smirked and turned Nora around to face the group. She was trying her best to look annoyed, but they all knew she was having fun. If anything she was flustered, still getting used to being such a wanted woman, and the regular requests from multiple people for her attention. She whimpered as Maccreedy pulled her arms behind her, arching into his grip as Curie dropped to her knees in front of her and Deacon began an attack on her neck, plucking at dress buttons to reveal her chest. She always changed into a dress when she got back, it made her feel normal again, with the added bonus of seeming to drive her lovers up the wall. They did tend to be a bit rough with the buttons though.

Cait took the opportunity to step forward and lift Nora’s skirt, taking her chance to lick at Nora’s neck and chest, earning a needy whine from Nora. Hancock made himself content with running a hand over her curves, groping her through her clothes. Curie quickly pulled down her panties, and Piper stepped forward to lift Nora by her thigh.  Nora briefly felt air along her pussy before Curie moved to lick along her. Cait reached down to rest a hand on Curie’s head as Nora moaned. 

“Fuck, Curie” Nora whimpered, unable to move against her lips. She felt Curie swipe a finger along her before dipping into her. 

“Good girl Curie, make sure to focus on the clit, like I showed ya.” Cait coached and Curie moaned into Nora, which made Nora squirm and moan and whimper. Then Curie did that thing with her tongue that Cait knew how to do and Nora screamed. Hancock grabbed one of her hands and pulled it to his crotch, working her hand over himself. Curie worked another finger into Nora and crooked them, and Nora started shaking. Just as she could feel herself getting close, Piper spoke up. 

“I think we should take this to the bedroom, don’t you all?” Nora could practically hear Piper’s smirk in her voice. She sure wasn’t looking to check though, considering she was busy whining because Curie pulled away from her with a giggle. 

“Sounds good to me” Hancock grabbed Nora by her upper arm, kissing her while Curie began leading her, and thereby the rest of them behind her. When Hancock released her from his searing kiss Nora whined. She followed though, up all the flights of stairs to her bedroom. As soon as she crossed the threshold of her room Hancock scooped her up and pressed her into her bed, arching over her to steal her lips before her other lovers could come steal her attention. 

“Don’t be selfish” Deacon chided, pushing beside Hancock to take her lips. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Hancock leaned back to speak, instead working the buttons at the front of her dress. 

“I wanna fuck you” Macreedy practically begged and Nora moaned into Deacon’s mouth at the thought of it. 

“She seems to like the thought, but not before I get to taste her” Piper insisted, pushing Mccreedy aside to place herself between Nora’s legs. Curie and Hancock took advantage of her newly revealed chest to abuse her breasts with hands and mouths. Nora was already whining when Piper set her mouth to her, and Nora felt like she was burning up with the pressure building in her core and the pleasure pulsing through her. Piper scissored her open while the others played with her, and Nora could feel herself getting lost in the sensation of them. 

“Pretty thing-” Hancock drawled as Nora writhed under them, enjoying the view now that Nora’s dress fell open around her. Piper picked up her pace and Nora was screaming at the feel of it. She felt so close. 

“Pretty indeed” Piper agreed and pulled away. Nora whined. “I think she’s ready for you Mccreedy.” She looked down at Nora deviously, and she knew that Piper meant to torment her so. 

“Piper-” Nora whined, and she just seemed to grin more. 

“I’m gonna take your pretty face for a ride” Piper practically purred, Nora’s lovers making room for her to steal her lips while Mccreedy ran himself through her slick. Piper quickly lost her clothes before straddling Nora’s chest, looking down at her face as Mccreedy began to rock into her. 

“Fuck Nora” Mccreedy groaned, bottoming out and enjoying the flutter of her around him. Just as Nora began moaning when Mccreedy set his initial pace, Piper lowered herself on Nora’s face. 

Nora tried hard to focus through the sensations of her lovers, worked to flick her tongue over Piper. Mccreedy bucked into her particularly hard and Nora groaned. Piper moaned at the vibration and ground down on Nora’s face. 

Nora felt wet, both where her and Mccreedy met and down her face. Her senses were filled with the warm smell of sex. She tried to focus on the sounds Piper was making, and the way their pleasure seemed to be linked through the noises they made and her tongue. 

“Taking me so good-” Mccreedy grunted, and she heard the sound of him spitting followed by a coldness on her clit. Nora was rocked with the sudden sensation of Mccreedy working her clit in firm fast circles. She screamed up into Piper and came hard. She felt a dribble of slick down her face as she came to, heard Piper moaning over her and felt Mccreedy losing his pace in her cunt. 

“Fuck Nora-” Piper sighed and rolled off of her. Let Hancock and Cait and Curie and Deacon continue their efforts where her body once was. She felt Mccreedy pull out of her, felt him spill on her stomach. Hancock similarly spilled on her chest soon after, felt Cait and Curie shake against her. 

Nora knew she could get used to this, her lover’s attention and love and the way they held her. She fell asleep that night, curled up with many of her lovers, knowing she’ll spend the next morning with them cleaning up and cooking together and working on the settlement and living their wonderful, domestic-ish life together.

[noxexistant]

ai-less whumptober; day nine

@ailesswhumptober 9 — hypothermia/heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.” ↳ the distribution yard, circa 1898 word count; 1.4k

cw; seizures, referenced suicide attempts/self-harm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Summer is fucking miserable.

Well, there isn't really a season in which their work isn't. It's miserable work — regardless of the weather, whatever weather it is. But most of it doesn't help.

Most of the time, it's the wrong side of cold to be working outside from before dawn to past midnight, or else it's warm and that's worse. In the fall, there's wet leaves over every inch of ground that Oscar has to fight for his life not to slip on with every step. He's eaten shit and ended up with bruises up his back more than once. In the winter, there's ice and snow to battle against, freezing temperatures that their cheap, worn-out clothes are never enough to stave off — and Mo always gets sick.

Though he gets sick in the summertime too.

It had happened a few times, back on the farm. When they were working outside all hours of the day, even through summer — on real hot days, Morris would drop like a stone. Heatstroke, Da had explained. Too much sun. Morris is only scrawny, can't regulate his temperature properly, so when he gets hot, he gets sick.

It's all Oscar can think about today. It's the height of August, and the air all around them is oppressive. Thick and warm, sticky, suffocating. The sun is hanging high in the sky, beating down on them relentlessly, and though Oscar had weeks ago began to forego his wool undershirt, wear his shirt loosely buttoned with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, he still feels like he's boiling. It's the hottest day yet.

And Morris won't take anything off.

They've been arguing about it for days, especially today. Oscar has been telling him, over and over, that he's fucking stupid for it. Oscar's got scars too, all over, and he hates having them on any sort of show but he's smart enough to recognise when it's necessary. Morris refuses. And Oscar knows its different. Knows the scattered scars now visible on his own bare forearms have different connotations to the ones hidden beneath Morris' sleeves — uniform slashes up the insides of his wrists up to his elbows, thick horizontal lines and a few vertical, thicker. Obvious. But Morris had gotten so sick back on the farm, another illness that Da was half-sure would finally kill him. And here they are again.

At least it's not his fault that he's being ordered to work under the beating sun again. This time it's just their Da's brother barking the commands rather than Da himself.

Oscar can't even keep a proper eye on Morris because of it.

It's afternoon so the distribution yard is devoid of newsies, and thus they're working the whole space, toting around huge carts of old papers and crates and stacks of the evening edition as they roll in, under strict supervision of Wiesel, so their vicious argument from morning distribution about Morris taking his goddamn shirt off had had to be tabled for the moment.

The ground is bone dry and dusty, scraping beneath Oscar's boots and kicking up with all the movement, making it seem even more laborious to breathe the dense air. The sky is rippling with the beating sun, sitting on Oscar's skin like a flame that's slowly burning through him, cooking his godforsaken Irish skin like a cut of bacon. He knows Mo must be burning, if he's not already burnt, and once again tries to look around for him.

"Oi," Wiesel snaps. "Break those fuckin' crates up, Os, I ain't tellin' you again."

Oscar grits his jaw and gets back to it.

"Fuckin' asshole," Morris mumbles from nearby.

He can hear Morris moving around the yard behind him, hear the rattling of the cart wheels, the creaking of wood bearing too much weight. He can hear Wiesel talking to the other employees that are working around them, a more amiable tone that he never bothers to grace the brothers with — and he hears the footsteps of someone coming out. Glances up and nods a cursory greeting to Roy coming out of the printing house.

Behind him, he hears Roy greet Morris.

"Christ, 's hot out here."

"Yeah? Hadn' fuckin'—noticed," Morris spits. His voice sounds slightly strange, angrier than he usually gets without the usual triggers. The words clumsy and blended together. Roy doesn't comment, perhaps doesn't notice. Or just thinks it's valid ire for the circumstances.

"Your uncle got you workin' out in this?" he asks. It's loud, like it's half aimed at Oscar too. Oscar shrugs.

"Work's gotta be done."

"Gotta be done," Roy echoes with a laugh. "You're a capitalist's dream, Delancey."

"Fuck off," Oscar laughs, putting his foot through another crate. He knows Roy's grinning at him, and all his misery from work is soothed somewhat by the balm of a friend's existence.

"Oi, runt," Roy says then, voice lowering, dipping into concern. "Lookin' pretty pale there. You alright?"

In an instant, Oscar's gut is churning again. He looks around immediately, and sees the taller man stood with Morris in the middle of the yard, a cart abandoned beside them, a hand clasping Morris' arm. Morris is stood entirely rigid, face dazed, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

And then Morris goes down.

"Fuck," Oscar says. "Fuck!"

He tosses the half-broken crate down and runs, boots kicking up a stream of dust, but he isn't too concerned. Morris passes out sometimes. He's a dumbass who doesn't eat nor sleep enough and is forced to be constantly overworked, Oscar is almost used to the sight of him dropping where he stands and being a limp pile of bony limbs.

But Morris isn't limp. He's convulsing.

Roy looks stricken. He's older than Oscar by a few years, big broad guy with a thick beard and a rough mouth, but in this moment he looks utterly helpless. Afraid.

It's nothing compared to how Oscar feels.

In an instant he drops to his knees in the dirt, reaching out for his brother, but Morris is. Gone. His eyes are glazed entirely, face twitching, limbs jerking sharply like he's being beaten and dragged by someone invisible. He's all drawn up, his face looks scared, he looks like he's in pain. He's drooling. Oscar doesn't know what to do.

"Get help!" he shouts, and, finally, Roy goes, takes off running.

Oscar, shaking, presses a palm to his brother's sweaty forehead. He feels impossibly hot, so hot it's almost Oscar's instinct to flinch away, but he doesn't. Can't.

"Mo," he croaks. "Mo, you're okay. You're okay."

He doesn't know that he is. It's never been like this before.

A terrified part of his mind tells him that his little brother is dying. A part that gets louder when the twitching and convulsing suddenly stops, and Morris goes limp, hazy eyes sliding closed, head falling back so suddenly that Oscar has to catch him.

"Help," he pleads shamelessly as Wiesel comes running over, another couple workers at his heel. "Help him."

Wiesel ultimately looks just as lost as Roy had. Looks remarkably like Da had, that first time Morris had dropped in the field.

There's the same lack of willingness to face accountability in his eyes. The same adamant refusal to accept that he did this.

"What's goin' on?" a voice calls from the gates, and Oscar feels another wave of protective fury overwhelm him. It's the newsies, because of course it is, all flooding in to come line up for the evening edition. All staring, crowding, trying to climb over each other for a better look at the sight of Morris on the ground, Oscar cradling him. Kelly pushes to the front, something indescribable in his face, lips parted. The dirt beside Morris' face is wet with drool and bile. He's very slowly starting to stir, eyes half-open, sliding around as he fights to focus. He makes a noise. Slurred, utterly nonsensical. Scared. Pained.

"What d'you think happened?" one of the newsies asks shamelessly.

"Is he dead?"

"Is there blood?"

Oscar could kill them. Instead, he forces his gaze — dark and dripping with fury — to raise to Wiesel.

"Get 'im inside," his uncle says quietly. "Get 'im looked after."

"Fuck you," Oscar spits. And lifts his little brother up into his arms.

"Oscar. Is he okay?" Jack calls out, voice echoing across the yard.

Morris is mumbling, eyes still unfocused. He's limp. His skin is hot. Oscar turns and carries him carefully inside into the shade. To once again be the only one who cares about him, who'll look after him.

"Oscar!"

Oscar kicks the door closed behind him.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Something Holy This Way Comes

Ch.6 Settling In

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 Cassandra quickly settled into life on the Uman and Din. To the engine's surprise, she was already aware of the Great Western Way of running a railway. She ran up and down the line with coaches in proper Swindon fashion, chatting at the stations with all the children who came to see 'Thomas.'

"We have a 57xx named Montague, although he prefers Duck, as our station pilot." She explained one night in the sheds. "He still practices your ways, I often help shunt in the yard while waiting for my return express run to Ffarquhar, and he taught me as we worked together."

"You have an express?" Abbey asked curiously.

"Hardly," Cassandra laughed, "it's a non-stop run with a few coaches between our main terminus, Tidmouth, and my Branchline's terminus, Ffarquhar. The other railway deemed it an express so they could justify me remaining blue."

"You wore Express Passenger Blue!?" 

Cassandra chuckled at Abbey's expression, "Not for long. We got our own liveries back in early 51. But the other railway wanted to keep me blue for tourism purposes."

"The books were already that popular?"

Cassandra nodded, "Many of the kids recognized me when my book was published."

"Why did they recognize you?" Enid asked, confused.

"The war," Cassandra said grimly, "I'm sure some of you remember the evacuation trains taking children into the countryside."

Many of the engines nodded grimly.

"Sodor took many of those children, as we were on the opposite side of Britain from the mainland. The towns of my Branchline were used to house most of the children evacuated to the Island during the war, far away from the docks, factories, and shipyards."

She closed her eyes remembering, "It was rare that I got a moment to rest during the war, but when I did, the children would come to see me. After the war, they started coming back with their families to visit me. I found out about the books from them, they recognized me on the cover of one of the books."

"Why are you Thomas in the books and not Cassandra?" Ceri asked curiously.

"At first it was because the Reverend preferred it. He's old-fashioned and thought I was a 'poor role model' for a lady. Later it was to hide me from the other railway. They don't know I sometimes present female, so I can easily slip past them when I do."

"Surely it's not as simple as that!" Blaidd protested.

Cassandra snorted, "Those who work for the other railway rarely care to tell one engine from another. They see I'm a girl and look no farther."

"Even with the books?" The whisper asked.

"Yes," Cassandra answered before Screech could repeat the question. "They are convinced Caomhnóir is male, and so look no further." She smirked at a dumbfounded Screech.

"You can hear them?"

"Not as clearly as you can, but yes."

***

The week passed smoothly by, with Cassandra receiving a new snowplow on her third day. It was mounted and shaped differently than her old one. It was a straight edge plow rather than a v-shaped and sat further back on her frames. She was skeptical, but reluctantly allowed it to be fitted. Throughout the day she slowly relaxed as the new plow failed to cause issues.

Screech also slowly relaxed as it became clear that the Lady's chosen champion truly had no ill intentions toward her. Cassandra could be fussy and had no hesitation in cutting another engine down to size if they were so much as a second late, but if anything those traits helped her to fit in with the Great Westerns.

Two of her coaches, Annie and Clarabel, arrived the fourth morning, having been undergoing overhaul when Cassandra had left for the Uman and Din. They had been repainted in Great Western chocolate and cream to better fit in with the railway. Cassandra remained in North Western Blue to keep the flow of tourists coming to see her. It quickly became evident that the little blue engine adored her coaches, taking them for a run as soon as they had been checked over by the workshops. The feeling was obviously returned, as the pair had only given a token resistance when the No.1's competitive streak appeared. With the U&DR coaches, she had been careful and precise, arriving early at each station, but only by a minute or two. But when Enid had challenged Cassandra to a race the fifth morning, that had all went out the window. Cassandra had been as an arrow released from Artemis's bow.

She had thundered down the line, steam streaming from her funnel in a straight line from the speed of her passing, Annie and Clarabel shouting encouragement. She arrived at Din a full ten minutes early, panting happily.

 Five minutes later Enid had puffed in, out of breath, and embarrassed. Cassandra's explanation that she had been secretly racing the busses on her line since the forties made her feel better.

"How many times have you lost?" She asked when she had got her breath back.

Cassandra's smirk had answered for her.

Enid had tried to egg Cassandra into challenging Guinevere, but Caomhnóir had snorted, saying "I know better than to challenge an express engine. I got dragged behind a Gresley in the twenties, I'm in no mood to repeat it with a Star."

[cupoftaae]

Forever and a day (KTH x READER) series♡ meet the parents. chapter 4

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count: around 3.1k I believe

chapter warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, (theres a flashback) trigger warning for this bc kaito is a little manipulative. Mentions of adhd, medications. There’s a lot of hot and cold behavior between Tae and reader, as well as a fight towards the end. Sorry!

A/N another thanks to everyone whos been liking, reading and reblogging this story (along with my other drabbles). I know my page isnt huge or anything but I love writing and seeing all of the support really motivates me, so thank you :) I also got to sit down and really plan out the rest of my chapters with great detail, I think you guys are gonna like the upcoming chapters so stay tuned (lots of drama)

enjoyyy! (also, I plan to create a spotify playlist for this series!)

A week later.

Taehyung turned around from the stove to face his laptop, currently on the page of something he thought he would never see, a college. he scrolled before turning back to flip his pancake, ensuring he didn't burn it. Over the past week, youve been spending most days and nights over at Kaitos, so he's had more room to think about things.

He wants to become more serious with his art desire, and he wants to prove to not only you, but himself, that he can do big things. So here he is, signing up for local art classes at the college a few streets down. He checked the schedule really quick to make sure that nothing would overlap with the class dates, humming to himself when he realized his first class would be this Saturday morning, the same day his parents were coming for dinner. He sat back against the counter and looked down at Yeontan, who was waiting for bits of food to fall.

Dinner. He forgot all about that, good thing you wrote it on the calendar. would you still even be up for going?

He sat in thought, perhaps too much thought. Taehyung's head whipped around at the aroma of burnt pancakes. "shit!"

maybe he should sign up for a cooking class too?

You and Taehyung havent spoken too much since he word vomited his confessions at you last week. The longest conversation you both shared was 2 days ago when your period suddenly came and you asked tae to bring you to the store late at night because you had ran out of tampons.

there was no discussion about anything he had said to you though, as if there was a mutual agreement to drop it and move on.

he scooped his somewhat burned pancake and put it on the plate, cutting off the black part and managing to revive his breakfast, seeming content with his work. "Not too bad, huh?" he smiled and looked down at his dog, who seemed to assume the food was for him.

Once taehyung sat down at the kitchen counter, he went back to reviewing the art classes website when suddenly you walked in.

The boys eyes darted up to the door, watching you put your bag down and look at him.

"hey" he shyly waved, taking a bite of his food.

you smiled, "hi", making your way over to him and sniffing the air. "you burnt them" you couldn't help but laugh a little.

"listen, it wasnt as bad as last time, taste" taehyung held the fork out with a small bit of food on it, allowing you to try it. "hm" you hummed, nodding. "ok its not charred ill give you that"

He smiled and watched as you sit down and pick tannie up. "so did you have fun at kaitos?" he asked, trying to just have small talk with you.

you looked up at him, "uh yeah, I guess" you shrugged, remembering last night. "we watched sports and he explained the entire game to me like I was stupid and didnt play soccer for 7 years" you laughed and moved your head to get close to the puppy in your arms, allowing taehyung to notice the dark purple mark hidden just above your clavicle.

he nearly chokes on his food, drawing your attention to him. "are you okay?" he nods and clears his throat. clearly you two didn't just watch sports. "im good, just swallowed wrong" he took a sip of his water and tapped his foot, avoiding his eyes from you as he thought of something else to say considering this conversation has now outlasted any previous ones of the past 7 days.

"oh you know this Saturday is the um, the dinner with my parents?" you looked at his laptop, feeling your eyes burn onto him. "oh shit I forgot about that" you smiled and looked over at the calendar on the fridge. "I did too" he laughs.

"you dont have to go if you arent up for it" he mumbles, still unable to look at you. "oh im going, I havent seen them in so long, even if we left off on a bad note, Im still close with them and I think its important to go to the dinner" you spoke matter of factly.

He simply nodded and took another bite of food.

"what are you doing?" you nosily ask, trying to drag out the interaction considering the fact you had missed conversing with your best friend.

He watches you lean over to look at his laptop. "oh its just, something Im interested in doing." tae shrugged, embarrassed you saw the website.

"art classes?" you ask, "I didnt know you liked that type of thing?"

"yeah, Ive always kinda wanted to do it but never had the chance. I mine as well try it right?" he smiled shyly.

"I think thats good for you" you nod, patting his back. "getting out more and stuff, you are always working from home. Oh look, the class is at my college so we might run into each other" you joke and walk off to your room.

the feeling of your hand against his back causes him to tense up, still trying to wrap his head around what he saw. It couldn't have been a hickey, maybe it was something else, perhaps you got hurt, right? .

oh who is he kidding. Who gets hurt on the neck like that, it was a hickey no doubt. (a/n: looking at you namjoon)

why was he kinda upset about that? He respected your space and the fact you are dating kaito, and thats what people who are in love do, they kiss each other....and stuff. He shook his head and stood up, deciding to go for a walk outside to clear his head.

-

While Tae headed out, you stepped into the bathroom to shower. Staring back at your reflection as you removed your shirt, revealing the dark spots peppering you neck and chest, your mind was brought back to the night prior.

Kaito kissed along your jaw, his hand coming under your shirt to brush your bare skin. you two were watching a soccer game but somehow it turned into a make out session he decided to bring upstairs to his room.

he hummed and pressed his lips against yours, your hand in his hair. he began pushing himself so his body was between your legs, hand now reaching for the hem of your shirt. "hm" you mumbled and pushed him off a bit, making him sit back and look at you. "what?" he asked, out of breath.

its not like you havent had sex with kaito.....ok, no thats exactly it. Youve never had sex with him. The most you two have done was letting him finger you under the blanket while watching a movie, then in return, sucking his dick in the backseat of his car.

He was more than ready to move forward with you, but you for some reason weren't.

you sighed and shrugged, removing his hand from your shirt. Kaito looked back at you before sitting to the side and laying on his back. "do you not want to have sex with me or something?" he spoke up.

"no, no, no, I do!" you lied, suddenly feeling guilt.

"then whats your problem?" he sighed, "every time I start something you always shut it down."

"im sorry" you whisper.

"dont be sorry, just dont lead me on." he shook his head.

you sat for a moment, taking a deep breath before getting up and moving to straddle his waist, his eyes widened up at you.

"im just nervous...ive...never done it before" you lied again, trying to convince him otherwise.

"oh" he spoke, hands on your waist as he seemingly took interest in the thought of him being the one to take your virginity.

the last time you had sex was a few months ago with taehyung. you've never done it with anyone else, ever.

"you trust me, right?" he tilted his head

you scanned his face, nodding. "yeah...."

with that he returned his lips against yours

your fingers ran over your chest, tears brimming to your eyes as you began to quietly sob. It wasn't like you had not consented to it. It was a mutual thing, and he's your boyfriend for god sakes, so why did you feel so damn dirty?

you cried as you showered away your thoughts and tried to wash off the feeling of disgust but it just wouldn't go.

and maybe, just maybe, deep down

you knew why.

-

Once Saturday had approached, you waited for taehyung to get back home from his first art class, deciding that you both could use a quick grocery shopping trip, as well as stop by the clothing store considering tonight was the dinner with his parents and you needed an outfit.

You looked at the clock to see it was almost 12, why isnt he home yet if the class ended at 11:40?

you decided on cooking a small breakfast while you waited, something for Taehyung too because you just know he had not eaten prior before leaving, and would be hungry when he returned.

Content with preparing some bacon and toast with fruit, you placed the dish on the counter before turning and grabbing Taehyung's medication from the top cabinet. Along with eating, you also have to remind him to keep up with his meds, which he has been taking since he was 13 for his ADHD. Sometimes you believe he thinks he doesnt have it, and thats why he forgets to take it.

finally sitting down to eat, you open up your laptop and begin to type away at some homework you needed to catch up on. You had not spoken to kaito in person since Wednesday night, he asked you for coffee this morning but you made some excuse about feeling ill, which had not been a total lie. You were worried that he was going to expect this of you each time you both met up. You've never felt so wrong about something you had no reason to be ashamed of, and the worst part was, you couldn't even talk to him about it. Kaito would make it some big issue about you 'not liking him enough or some shit'. You just knew you needed your own space for a few days, and were grateful you had extra concealer to hide the past weeks evidence painted along your neck, which you hoped to God taehyung had not seen.

you were drawn out of your thoughts as you watched the door open, a cheery tae walking in.

"hi!" he smiled and walked over, eating a piece of fruit off your plate.

"hey" you spoke, looking at him. "so? how was it?"

"it was so fun!! look, I made this" he held up a small canvas with strokes of multicolored paint splashed across in an artistic way. you nodded, not fully understanding art, in the same sense he couldn't understand literature. you didn't get why paint thrown on a white base was pretty or poetic, but you let him have it.

"I like it tae, good job" you offered a smile as he held it out into your hands. "keep it!" he spoke, turning to go greet his dog.

you smiled to yourself and looked over it before turning around as well, "eat breakfast and take your meds please, I was wondering if it was possible that we could go shopping before we meet up with your parents?"

he nodded and walked over to the counter, following your orders. "yeah we can, they arent gonna be ready to pick us up until 7." he spoke, shoving bacon into his mouth.

"perfect".

-

"Tae we dont need those, we have so many bags of chips at home" you protested, slumping as you pushed the grocery cart isle through isle.

He looked at the bag of cheese puffs and walked fast to catch up to you, "ah ah ah, nope. these ones are spicy. see?" He shoved it close to your face.

"fine." you sighed, trying to find the stuff you guys actually needed, like milk, coffee creamer, and-

"Taehyung??"

what??

you both turned around to see a younger girl walking up behind you, she had short hair and was bundled up in a large jacket, which is something you mentally mocked considering it was almost April.

you've definitely never seen her before, you turn to taehyung, "who the fuc-"

"annie!" he smiled and bows politely, leaving you in shock as you watched the two interact.

"long time no see" the girl giggled, almost obnoxiously

"we just saw eachother a few hours ago" he spoke

"it was a joke, taehyung" she laughed again, peaking over his shoulder to look at me. in that moment I could have sworn I felt her cold eyes burning into my skin.

"Hello, who is this?" she smiled and tapped tae's arm.

"Oh, thats y/n. shes my roommate" tae grinned at you and returned his eyes back at Annie.

roommate? thats all? no best friend since we were in diapers? You think you know a guy.

"Hi, Im annie. Taehyung and I go way back, and by that I mean we just met today." she smirked, tae laughing and adding on "In art class"

"oh" you nodded, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "nice to meet you" you bowed and turned to your grocery list, trying to seem busy as they continued their talking.

"I really liked your art" tae murmured, "it really feels like it goes beyond the surface" you roll your eyes and turn back, watching them.

"oh that means so much, thank you." she blushed.

SHE BLUSHED?

"you know, I have a Instagram account for my art....if you wanna follow?" Annie looked up with hopeful eyes, which tae reacted to by pulling his phone out and receiving the username.

seriously....who is this bitch?

"not to interrupt, but I have to get shopping now, we still need to go to the clothing store." you spoke, only facing tae.

"ok" he smiled and said his goodbyes to the girl, waving like a little kid before he caught back up with you.

"shes nice-"

"yah im sure, can we hurry?" you cut him off, watching his eyebrows scrunch before nodding.

-

Taehyung fiddled with the nearby clothing racks while he waited for you to get out of the dressing room. He never liked to go shopping, but when he went with you he always found it somewhat amusing, unless it was clothes shopping.

He paced slowly before knocking on the door. "are you almost done" he whispered, eyes looking around at nearby people.

"tae" you breathed out, "for the 3rd time, I will be out in a few, be patient." you spoke, aggravated.

he pouted and finally sat on the bench, tapping his feet while playing a game on his phone.

once you opened the door, you couldn't help but giggle at the sight. Like a kid waiting for his mom, he was funny without even knowing it.

"ok, how does it look?" you asked, grabbing his attention to the light brown sweater paired with a black mini skirt. It wasn't too special but it was nice, and it looked professional.

Tae looked up, eyes tracing over you entirely before gathering his words to speak. "uh....wow, you look really good" he nodded and stood up.

"are you sure? the skirt isnt too short, right?"

somewhere in his mind he wanted to make a joke and tell you it wasn't short enough, but he decided against it.

he shook his head. "you look beautiful."

you looked at him looking at you through the mirror as a wave of chills ran through your body.

he came up and carefully felt the fabric of the sweater, the feeling of his hand on you immediately made you flinch and pull away.

ah yes, the thought of physical touch. Something which disgusted you recently.

He frowned and before he could respond you went back to change into your regular clothes so you could purchase and leave.

Once you two were in the car, Tae had offered to stop and get you something to eat, you declined politely while he got himself a sandwich.

You felt bad considering you probably made him feel like he did something wrong, he didn’t. Taehyung wasnt the problem, you were.

The two of you quietly brought in the groceries, setting them on the counter. You began to put things away as you felt taehyungs eyes watching you. “What?” You exhaled, opening the fridge without even turning to direct your voice to him.

“Are you ok?”

“Why wouldnt I be?”

He blinked a few times while his fingers absent mindendly began to pick at his lower lip.

“Don’t do that” you spoke, watching him tuck his hands behind his back.

“It’s nothing I’m just, always checking in. You are my....friend. And I want you to be ok” he spoke as if he was unsure.

You jokingly scoffed and shook your head. “I’m ok Tae, i promise” you turned to him finally and offered a fake smile, something he saw right through but decided against speaking on it.

You heard him sigh before he walked back to head to his room. “I’m gonna shower”

“Ok” you mumbled and finished unpacking the groceries before taking your clothes and heading to your own room.

-

The clock read 6:40, that meant you and taehyung had to be dressed and ready to go in 20 minutes.

Taehyung decided to just slip on a button up shirt and dress pants, it’s his parents and he doesn’t feel too keen on trying to impress the people who always tell him he’s making the wrong choices.

He brushed his hair, mentally noting how long it’s gotten since the last time he let you cut it. His bangs lightly framed against his face as he sprayed cologne on, leaving the room to knock at your door. “Almost ready? Mom texted, she will be here a few minutes early?” He walked over to the hall to grab his coat off the rack, returning to hear your answer.

“Im doing my makeup!” You responded, careful with the mascara wand because you didn’t want to get it on anything other than your lashes. You quickly brushed your hair, clipping your bangs to the side while fluffing up the ends. You look over yourself, praising yourself for making the right clothing decision, it matched perfectly with your lipstick. You sprayed perfume on, the aroma filling your bathroom as you slipped a pair of small black heels on, making your way to the living room.

You had left your phone out on the kitchen counter while you got ready, something taehyung noticed when he stepping into the kitchen to fill Yeontans water bowl.

Your screen suddenly lit up with a text from kaito:

Kai: hey, still feeling sick? My sister made soup and if you want I can run by and drop some off. If it’s ok i might leave it at the door, i dont really care to run into taehyung.

Taehyung scrunched his nose, scoffing and moving closer to your phone. He was highly confused by the text, turning around and finishing his task.

“Im readyyy” you sung and hopped into the kitchen. Taehyung almost dropped the water bowl right onto the floor.

There you were, black tights , miniskirt, hair curled, all put together with red lipstick.

He swallowed hard, clearing his throat before speaking. “Well then.....”

“Do I look good?” You asked, looking down at your outfit.

“You look even more beautiful than you did in the store today” he looked at the bowl as he tried to speak nonchalantly, despite the fact his heart was racing.

How’s he supposed to suppress his feelings when you are standing there looking like THAT

“You look very handsome, Tae. You always do” you nodded, hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks burned with blush.

You didn’t always get complimented, it wasn’t like you tried to fish for it either, but considering you have to pull a single “you look nice” out of your boyfriend when taehyung gives them for free is kind of ridiculous.

“Do I?” He teased

“Mhm” you smiled and brushed your hand through his hair quickly. “I like when you don’t use gel, the fluffy look is cute” you laughed and walked towards the door as taehyung put yeontan in his play gate.

He grinned to himself, knowing he will never use that gel again.

-

Once you two stepped out into the hall, he walked up to you and itched the back of his head.

“So, not to pry or anything, but your phone was left on the counter and I saw that um...kaito texted. He mentioned something about you being sick?”

Your eyes shot wide open, pulling your phone from your purse to look at the said message.

“If you weren’t feeling good you didn’t have to come” He shyly spoke, watching as you waved your hand at him.

“Tae, i lied” you smile, “I just wasn’t up for hanging out with him today.” You add.

“Oh....how come?”

You shrug, looking at him. “I don’t know.”

He looked down at his feet while you two made way towards the elevator. “Also, sorry that you saw him say that about you. He takes things super seriously” you scoff.

“It’s fine, It’s not my priority for him to like me” he spoke, pressing the button once you two stepped in. “Besides, Im the one who gets to hang with you today, so I win” he joked, allowing you to laugh softly and poke his arm.

It was nice to have some normalcy between you both, the past few weeks have been crazy and there’s been a lot of emotions, but it finally feels like things are getting back to the way they used to be.

“Ok so mom said her and dad would be right over here” he spoke as he looked at his phone, then looked up to the curb once you were outside. Your eyes peered around, there was no car yet.

“I guess we can just wait.” He put his phone away and looked around at the people on the street, something you began to join him in doing.

You both happened to catch someone dancing, making you both giggle. Your eyes then darted to an older couple crossing the street, arms linked sweetly. You nudged taes arm, grabbing his attention and whispering “look, it’s you and Annie in the future”

He immediately scoffed once he saw what you were referring to. “Ok I knew you were gonna make fun of me for that!” He whined and shyly walked away.

You began to laugh and ran up to him. “It’s not like that” he began. “Yet” you added on, watching him stop walking and turn to you.

“Ah i see...you are jealous.” He smirked.

“What?? No!! Im not j-...why would you-...what!” You stutter, watching him begin to say something before a car horn knocks you both out of the conversation.

“Hello!!” You see taehyungs mother waving her hand out the window, his father in the drivers seat as they pulled up to the curb. You bowed immediately once you got close, greeting them.

“Hello Mr and Mrs. Kim, it’s been a while, I missed you” you spoke sweetly,

“Ah y/n! It’s nice to see you again sweetheart” his mother kindly spoke

“Hi mom, dad.” Taehyung mumbled, his previously cocky state taking a more shy one.

“My son” his mom gripped his face and squished his cheeks. “Still chubby, good. You are finally eating more”

“Stop” he whispered, checking out of the corner of his eye to make sure you weren’t watching, glad you had been conversing with his father in that moment.

“Ok let’s go!” She cheered, ushering you both into the back seat before telling her husband what restaurant to go to.

they had initially wanted to come over so you could cook for them, but taehyung suggested a newer French restaurant nearby he swore they needed to try. You laughed at his obvious attempt to impress them.

The two of you squished together in the back seat, moving your body closer to the window as the air suddenly left the car. “You look lovely, y/n” taes father complimented. “Thank you Mr.Kim! You and your wife look very nice as well”

“How’s college, dear?” You turned your attention to his mom, who wasted no time digging into details about your life.

“Uhm it’s okay, lots of classes” you smile, watching her nod. “Still majoring in theatre?”

“Of course”

She clicked her tongue playfully, choosing to not make a comment against your choice of career...or lack of.

You silently praise the fact the drive to the restaurant was quick, allowing you time to climb out and avoid the conversation.

“This place is nice” you whisper to Tae, watching him nod. “We don’t belong here” you chuckled, making him laugh as well.

Taehyungs parents join arms before stepping in, Tae moving beside you to mimic their movement, making you blush lightly.

The waiter quickly checks your reservations and moves you to a relatively quiet room with a table by the window, just how you liked.

Once you had all sat and ordered your dishes, the room for conversations opened up.

“Your Hair is getting too long taehyung, why don’t you trim it” his father mentioned as he sipped his wine.

“Ah I know, i usually let y/n trim, but she’s been busy.” He teased, looking at you.

“Busy? With what? Certainly not a job” his mother mumbles as he takes her jacket off and sets it to the side.

“Mom...” he whispered, embarrassed for the way his Parents feel like they can talk about you as if you are their own child.

“Im just out and about, i have school and I’m with my boyfriend a lot” you spoke up

His moms head turned up as you talked, seeming suddenly interested.

“Boyfriend?” She laughed

“Mhm” you nodded

She turned to her husband and raised her eyebrows, both sharing a confused glance.

“What?” Taehyung asks, following their exchange

“Oh it’s nothing, we just...” she shrugged at her son, turning her attention back to you. “We had dinner with your parents a few days ago and we were discussing you both”

“Okay...” you half smiled, wondering what your own parents had said about you.

“And we just talked about like the pictures you guys post online...and we assumed, well, more like got the impression, that you two were together?” His mom admits.

You and taehyung both look blankly at them, silent staring before turning to eachother.

“It’s not a bad thing, your parents and us always said you would both end up together” his father laughed.

“Right, so Im suprised you are dating someone else” his mom inquired

“Starting the night off strong I see” you whispered to yourself, growing embarrassed at this conversation.

The older woman continued to ask questions. “Is it a serious relationship? Doesn’t he care you are living with another man?”

You took a sip of your water, clearing your throat. “Well...we’ve only been together for a little while, and yeah he does but not too muc-“

“It won’t last” his father cuts in casually, “young relationships like that come and go”

You didn’t know what else to do but nod and shove a piece of bread into your mouth.

His mother sighed and took a sip of her wine, “Ah your mother and father will be disappointed at the news” she laughed lightly.

“It’s not disappointing, you guys can’t just assume things” Tae added, stepping up for you as you drowned yourself in gluten.

“Well it is disappointing. We are getting older and you know, we don’t visit as much. I’m reaching the age where I’m ready to be a grandma” his mom adds, making you choke on your food.

“Are you ok?” His father asks, watching you chug your water more.

“Yup! So good! So ok!”

Taehyung seems embarrassed himself, you felt bad for him too. “Mom, y/n and I are just friends and we always have been, there is nothing like that in our future” he brushed off the pain in his chest as he defended you.

You looked at Tae for a moment before looking down and playing with your napkin.

“Sad” she responded, looking up as the waiter came over, delivering the food to each person.

“Thank you” you spoke, finally happy that your pasta had arrived. Tae laughed to himself, of course you’d get pasta at a French restaurant.

It remained quiet for the first few minutes while you all indulged in your meals.

Taehyung looked up from his plate, trying to find something to say.

“Hows everything for you guys? Everyone at home all good?” He asked softly, taking a sip of his Diet Coke.

His mother nodded, “everything is good, your father and I redid the kitchen, and we even cleared out the attic, turning it into a guest room”

“Oh that’s nice” he smiled.

“So you guys can come visit if you ever wanted to” his father added, making you smile.

“Yes that sounds fun” you replied “it’ll be hard to plan something with mr workaholic over here” you joke, nudging Tae.

“Speaking of that, how is work?” His father asks, taking a bite of his dish.

“It’s going well, I mostly work from home, but I’m doing extra hours next week so..” he nodded.

“Working from home? That must be nice, i dont see why you can’t take some college classes from home at least”

You sigh at the conversation once again taking another rude turn. You love the kims, but it’s impossible to talk to them.

“Actually, he is taking a college course” you smile, Turing to Tae to see a mortified expression.“What?” His mother perks up.

“He just did his first class today, it’s an art class, you know, painting and stuff” you smile sincerely. “Art....” his father snickers. You felt taehyungs leg kick against yours, obviously this wasn’t something he wanted to be said. You instantly regretted trying to make him look good the moment his mother commented.

“Ah taehyung you go through life thinking your doing good things but where will an art class get you huh? I worry about you so much...” she sighed and put her fork down.

“When will you take your life seriously? You are 23! I had a kid at your age and was married” She added on, taehyung now scraping his fork against a piece of meat as he avoided eye contact.

This is almost identical to the last time we had all met up, when Tae dropped the bomb of dropping out of college. You hoped this time would be better, but unfortunately, thanks to you, it is possibly even worse.

“It’s just for fun....” you mumble, turning your eyes to see Tae looking at his shoes, tears at the brim of his eyes while he has yet to speak.

“Thats the problem y/n, his whole life is fun, no work, no discipline. And I can’t say different for you.” His father spoke,

“I mean who goes to college and decides to do something as risky as theatre? Unless you plan on being an award winning actress it’s going to get you nowhere.” He sighed, “you two live in fantasy world”

“It’s time to grow up” his mother added, finishing her food.

You felt a hole in your stomach, it was guilt, pure guilt. You didn’t mean to ignite this, not here and not now, when we were supposed to be having fun.

Taehyung shook his head and laughed, taking your glass of wine and gulping it down in a few sips, his face scrunching up before standing and exiting outside. You watch as he goes, standing to grab the left behind jacket and phone. “You’re just going to leave?” His mother questioned, making you shrug. “This wasn’t how dinner was supposed to go, i apologize” you mumble, “we will meet up again before you guys head home, ok?” You add, chasing after taehyung.

You find him outside of the restaurant, sitting a few steps away on a staircase.

“Tae...”

You walk closer, standing in front of him.

“I thought you quit” you speak quietly, gesturing towards the cigarette in his mouth.

He doesn’t reply, rather simply glares at you before turning his head and exhailing the smoke. “Look Im sorry, I didn’t mean to expose anything, I feel awful” you reach to put your hand on his shoulder, he shudders and scooches away. “You have a way of making me look like a fool, y/n” he smiles, looking at the cars driving by.

You breathe, watching him articulate his thoughts. “You think I’m incapable of reading books you like” he began to list. “You think that my job is dumb, you think the art class is stupid.” He laughed to himself and shook his head. “You think I’m a complete loser and could never possibly understand what it takes to be smart or successful”

“Thats not fucking true taehyung, stop it” you mutter, feeling like you were slapped. “See, you are doing it right now. You feel like you need to tell me how to act, how to feel. You embarrass me and make me the fool” he began to wipe at his cheek, standing up and walking past you as he spoke.

“You and Kaito must have a blast making fun of how dumb I am” he smiled and exhaled more smoke, looking at you. “You are acting immature, it’s not funny” you spoke sternly. “Oh but it is funny, y/n, because I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about trying so hard to impress you, or being smart like you, or impressing my own parents” he stopped in his tracks as you glared at him.

“You focus on your little life, ok? Focus on college, focus on eventually graduating, focus on your friends, kaito, and hiding hickies because that’s what you do best apparently” he scoffed and put out his cigarette, grabbing the jacket from your hands and walking towards the direction of your apartment.

You are left in nothing but shock, once again, as he leaves you in a speechless position. You take back what you said earlier about you both returning to normalcy, because apparently you take one step forward and 20 fucking steps back with each day that passes. You couldn’t help but wipe the tears that fell from your eyes as you began to walk back to the apartment as well, taehyung now out of your vision completely.

Everything recently in your life has gone so down hill, and you can’t blame anyone else but yourself. Word of advice for anyone listening: don’t live with your best friend then decide to add benefits and grow super attached, break said situation while also pursuing a new relationship with someone else.

It will fuck you up.

A/N: whew.....

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @kthstrawberryshortcake-main

[mrsunder]

Been a while since I posted about the Zombie!Ghost AU so I thought I’d chuck out some tiny morsels into the yard for everyone.

- The only reason Ghost wasn't locked away in a deep dark hole as a lab experiment for the rest of his life was because of a disabled American military vet that got screwed over after serving.

The doctor that saw Ghost after he was brought in managed to check his heart and notice it wasn't beating. He cleared the room Ghost was kept in with the excuse of him needing to calm down after unknown trauma. No one wanted to argue because he had nearly ripped someone's arm off as they tried to bring him to the hospital. After Ghost "calmed down" the doctor found his heartbeat and signs of obvious physical trauma that should have killed him.

He called his buddy, a vet that told him stories about some of the more classified things he saw when he was serving and how he was fucked over after he was let go with a black void on his x-rays and even more black in his medical files. Without the proper clearance, his doctors "couldn't prove he had a reason to be ill the way he was" so he was treated like shit by the VA that was supposed to help him to the point that it took him years to even get pain relief. When his friend called about Ghost he didn't even hesitate to throw every favor, friendship, and classified blackmail he had around to make sure another soldier didn't get fucked for serving his country.

Price was at the hospital with Ghost within the week.

- Ghost has his own team of specialists.

As part of the deals in place that keep him free, Ghost has to take missions that are very likely to end with him “dead”. In return he has a number of people that take care of his medical and psychological care.

Surgeons with trauma specialties to repair the wounds that cause his death. A cosmetic surgeon to hide fatal wounds in visible areas (like the head and neck)  or scars he wouldn't be able to explain to people. A therapist that helps him deal with the trauma of dying over and over and the fact that "he's a monster". There's also a doctor dedicated to studying his behavior when dead to make sure he doesn't become a threat to those around him.

- Ghost hunted down every zombie movie he could find as a way to hurt himself mentally. He convinced himself he was a monster and used zombie films to reinforce it.

Eventually he discovered the movie "Fido" (which you can watch on youtube!) and it put a little voice in the back of his head that maybe he didn’t have to be a monster. It took months before he went searching for more movies with zombies that weren't just brain hungry ghouls, but when he did it helped him start to wrap his head around the thought that maybe he wasn't just a threat to those around him that needed put down. - Zombie!Ghost is influenced heavily by smell. He's especially comforted by the scent of the rest of the 141. When he's in medical getting fixed up whoever is closest will be asked to stay in the room while the doctors fix Ghost up, but if they’re unable to stay for whatever reason they’re asked for their current shirt, which they wrap around a heating pad to help keep Ghost calm while they work on his body. He can't stand any "hospital" smells and will scratch at his skin (or the skin of someone that spent enough time in medical) until the smell is gone. - After being fixed up one of the 141 will stay with him in his room until he comes back to himself. It used to be just Price that stayed with him, but after finding out Soap is the one that spends the most time with him and even Gaz has started keeping an eye on him. Price spends most of his time doing paperwork, but sometimes he'll catch up on any sleep he's missed while Ghost curls up in bed next to him. Gaz will borrow a laptop and watch movies (normally cartoons or romcoms to keep from spooking Ghost with things like gunshots, explosions, or people being violently killed) while Ghost leans against him to watch. Gaz isn't sure if he can follow the movies or not, but he seems to enjoy them well enough. Soap spends most of his time sleeping or idlily running a hand through Ghost's hair while filling the silence with whatever topic he can think of because Ghost will force him onto the bed and lay on top of him. Zombie!Ghost likes when his bed is warm and smells like Soap (and when Soap smells like him)

[leebrontide]

One thing about our new garden is that the soil is shit.

I am begging people not to rake up all their leaves in the fall and all their grass clippings in the summer. Every time you dispose of this organic "waste" you're taking the nutrients those plants pulled up out of the soil and throwing it away. Plus, you're destroying habitat for loads of important insects and fucking with the whole ecosystem.

The people who owned the house before us clearly raked and removed loads of leaves and clippings for the 30 years they lived in the house. The soil is practically sand. Just no nutrients left in it and very little ability to retain water.

People used to ask us why our soil in our old place was lovely rich nearly-black soil. The answer was that we didn't take our leaves up till mid April, after most insects didn't need them for hatching and hiding anymore, and they've broken down a fair amount of their nutrients into the soil. Then we'd mow up as much as possible and leave the chopped up leaves all over the lawn, to further break down and return the nutrients to the ground.

I've been looking for a rotatable compost bin for the new place, even though we're all small enough that rotating them can be sort of a pain in the ass.

But I'll confess that an ad-algorithm got me. I go on YouTube for 3 minutes, because my usual music streaming service was down and I do enjoy the "17th century villain" playlists on there, and I got an ad for an electric countertop composter.

This is not some kind of supported product placement on my part. The Lomi, which is the thing I saw an ad for, is a good $500 bought new, and I just flat out wasn't gonna do that.

But, I was curious enough to read some reviews, and then check craisglist. Lo and Behold, I found one for cheap, for sale from someone who bought and liked one, but also has an honest to god farm, and decided to go back to larger scale outdoor composting.

So, now we have a Lomi countertop composter.

You take the food waste from the day (our kiddo, Starling, eats a staggering amount of fruit, and a lot of eggs, so there's always shells, cores and peels and stuff laying around) and you put it in the bucket, and lock the lid, and push one button.

In two hours you have totally dry, totally broken down compost that smells almost like dry hay, ready to drop on the yard to put back in nutrients.

I'm a bit in love with it.

And, on top of that, it can break down dairy and meat. You shouldn't ever put cooked meat in your outdoor compost, because birds will try to forage it, and get cooked fat grease on their feathers, which they can't clean off and can lead to illness. They're not evolved to handle cooked meat. But this way the meat is all broken down and safe to put outside. Which means throwing less away, which is great.

I will say, we didn't put in the charcoal the first time, and it had the used up charcoal from the previous owner in there and THAT was a mistake. Made the whole house smell like sweet vinegar. Which could be worse, considering this is food rotting down, but it was terrible when it's too cold to even open a window.

You can get Lomi brand charcoal filters, but it's just little charcoal pellets, so I'll probably just buy some from the aquarium store when we run out. But this batch should last us several months.

The thing also came with Lomi "tablets". So far, we've used them. But I'm going to experiment with not using them at some point, since the webpage for the Lomi says you don't NEED them. They do genuinely add helpful bacteria and fungi to the soil, which is great, but I can buy soil improvers that can do that, much more economically, from my local urban farm supply in the spring. No branded little pellets required. Plus, with the lawn being under snow, and the processed compost having to go on top of the snow, I'm not sure how much of that bacteria would be surviving right now, anyways.

[stevishabitat]

One of our ferals was hit by a car today.

Mercifully, his head was clipped, so it was instant death and not prolonged suffering and we didn't have to do anything but collect the body.

We had seen him in the yard moments before, and I reminded kiddo to refill the front porch water since we have a heat advisory. When kiddo and Grandmummy went back out, he was laying in the street.

Blaze was one of Franklin and Mama's litter from spring of 2020. As a "teen", he helped raise the next litter, since Mama was terrible at parenting and always handed her babies off to someone else as soon as possible.

He had moved out of the main colony to run around with his aunt Cinnabon, who was a bit of a loner. They'd been getting fed elsewhere for awhile, but this year they came back to take advantage of our front porch food & water station.

We put a shelter on the porch, but they never felt comfortable using it and came and went from somewhere across the street. The backyard colony cats made it clear they could come to eat but then had to get out of the territory.

Our street is one block that dead-ends at a creek, but that doesn't keep cars from zooming like it's a freeway. In spite of the "slow down: kids and pets at play" sign I bolted to a tree earlier this summer.

This is one of the toughest parts of caring for a feral colony. You wish you could protect them and just bring them all inside. But they aren't house pets. They may get used to seeing you around, but they will always be too wild to be made a pet.

We do what we can to make their lives better - neutering and vaccinations whenever possible. Food and water and shelter. Trying to stop the kitten cycle and adopting out any that are people-friendly. Decreasing the numbers while trying to improve quality of life for those who remain.

But we can't make their choices for them. And although they have some level of street smarts, it's still dangerous out there. Cars, predators, dogs, people, injury, illness... They aren't likely to live as long as an indoor cat. All it takes is one moment, one decision, and they're gone. Loss is an inevitable part of what we signed up for.

It's especially hard when it's one you've known for years and watched grow up.

And Blaze was one of the most beautiful we've had. Very petite for an intact tom and he never got involved in the tom cat fight club so he wasn't battered and scarred like some. Lovely tuxedo with a distinct blaze that inspired his name and big green eyes. And he knew his name! He always looked up when we talked to him.

After we packed up the body (giving him many gentle pets and telling him how very soft he was) we saw Cinnabon watching from under a car on the nearby driveway. We can't explain to her that her nephew, her buddy Blaze isn't coming back. I'm not sure what she'll do on her own. It's been just the two of them for a very long time. Maybe she'll try to rejoin the main colony, but I doubt it. I feel bad for her.

Grandmummy came in and gently told Franklin that one of his sons was gone. And what we didn't say, but were all thinking, that a year ago it could easily have been him.

Y'all, I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to keep cats inside. Get them neutered. Get them vaccinated.

And if you feed strays or ferals, find out if there's a TNR group nearby that might help you trap & neuter.

Reducing the number of street cats (pets, strays, and ferals) is the best thing for everyone.

Let Blaze be your reminder.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #47 (part one)

previously - Journal Entry #46 (part seven)

Victor

Hey, everyone.

So, it's been a while, and I'm not even sure where to start. Things have been... chaotic. I guess Yuri's been keeping you up to date, and I'm sure he's told you all about my accident and everything that's been happening since, so I won't go over that again. Living it once was enough, and I'm still having nightmares about it, so... yeah. I'm trying to keep my waking hours as free from it as I can.

I haven't felt like recording anything up to now. I mean, I obviously couldn't while I was in the hospital, but since I've been home again, I haven't had the mental stamina for it, or the physical stamina either, really. Being in pain is pretty exhausting, honestly. I think I probably already knew that from taking care of Yuri, but now I understand it from personal experience. I'm not used to feeling like crap and having hardly any energy, and it sucks.

I’m confident that my arms and rib are slowly getting better, and Mom says the bruises I had on my face and shoulder and down my side are totally gone, but I'm still having brutal headaches and I still can't see properly. Julian had to set up my phone for me so I could record this. If I'm not looking right into the camera, I'm sorry, and if I'm accidentally giving all of you like, a thousand-yard stare or something, I apologize for that too.

Sometimes I think my eyes are improving, but then I'll blink or I'll try to focus on something and it's just gone again. Mostly, everything's all blurry and indistinct, as if I'm looking through one of those frosted glass shower doors. It's frustrating because not only can I not play games on my Switch or text on my phone, I can't even do stuff that doesn't require major use of my hands and arms, like watching videos or practicing my reading or even picking out audio books by myself. I have to get help finding an audio book to listen to, or a movie. I basically have to listen to movies too, which is annoying.

When I'm not in too much pain, I get bored, and without being able to do anything to distract myself, all I can do is think. I don't like that. It's too scary and depressing, especially when I start worrying about whether my life really is going to get back to normal.

I realize it's only been a little over a week since my accident — this is Monday night and it happened a week ago Friday — so I shouldn't expect too much, too soon. The doctor did say it might take a few weeks or maybe up to a month for the worst of the symptoms to resolve, after all, and I might be dealing with some aftereffects for months. She said it was a grade 4 concussion, which is the most severe type because I was unconscious for more than a full minute, and she said I've got mild swelling of the brain. That's the explanation for the bad headaches and dizziness and of course the vision problems. I'm not supposed to be doing anything strenuous, or even remotely active, really. I'm not even allowed to climb the stairs by myself until the doctor clears me to do it. Not that I can actually climb the stairs by myself anyway, but you know.

Earlier today, Yuri's dad arranged an appointment for me with the oppthalmologist that he and Mrs. Okamoto, Yuri and Yuki all go to. Her name is Dr. Ishida, and she's going to see me this coming Friday. Exactly two weeks after the accident, if you're counting. I'm hoping she gives me better news than the ophthalmologist at the hospital did.

Yeah, you didn't hear that wrong. Mr. Okamoto arranged it. Yuri was going to do it himself, but he's actually sick right now and he's not up to making important phone calls. Like, he's sick enough for the hospital, if you ask me, but I think somebody would literally have to carry him out to the car to get him there.

Managing at home when he's this ill is not ideal in my opinion, but he says he doesn't want to go to the hospital because he doesn't want to leave me. I totally get that. I don't want us to be apart either, but I'm also freaking out because I can't take care of him like I usually do, and he's not comfortable with Mom or Julian doing what I normally would. Plus, they don't know everything they should be doing for him anyway, and it's super difficult for me to explain it.

All I can say is, thank goodness for Yuri's dad.

I know what you're likely thinking. Up to now, Yuri and his father have been on really bad terms and barely spoke to each other, and Mr. Okamoto hasn’t exactly been my biggest fan either, so why am I saying I’m grateful for him? Well, the thing is, he’s surprised us all during the last several days, and not in a negative way.

Let me try to explain.

Maybe people think Yuri’s not interested in a relationship with his dad, and I guess I wouldn’t blame anyone for believing that, considering how tense things were in the past. Yuri does actually want a relationship, but he and his dad are both so stubborn that once they started resenting each other for whatever real or imagined hurt they'd caused, neither one of them was willing to let go. I think Mr. Okamoto was more at fault than Yuri for the problems between them, mostly because he didn't know how to deal with Yuri not living up to his unreasonable expectations, but to be fair, you can't have a disagreement by yourself. Yuri isn't just an innocent victim of his dad's difficult personality and crappy communication skills. He had his own part to play.

But, since my accident, we're seeing a side of Mr. Okamoto that we've never seen before. It started with him coming to the hospital right after it happened, to sign consent forms, talk to the doctors and generally deal with stuff until Yuri could get there. Then, he stayed here with Yuri while I was in the hospital, which I was grateful for. I didn't like to think about him being alone. He said it was awkward, having his father here, but also kind of reassuring in a way.

I'm glad they both seem to be softening up, at least for the moment. Yuri really needs his dad in his life, and seeing Mr. Okamoto ready and willing to help us says something about how much has changed between them in a short time.

I want to be optimistic that things are going to get better between them going forward. Anyone who didn't know the whole story would probably be inclined to be positive in this situation, and maybe I should be too. I promise I'm trying, but knowing Mr. Okamoto, I have my doubts. He's not great at consistency and he hasn't shown much interest in the past, but I guess there's always a chance this time it'll be different. For Yuri's sake, I hope so, but I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

Anyway, on Saturday night after dinner, Mr. Okamoto came over to get the stuff Hana left here that morning. Apparently, Yuri had called or texted him to pick it up because he didn't want her coming back here for it herself. I'm pretty sure nobody wanted her to come back, least of all me, so I was relieved when my father-in-law took the bags and made his exit.

I'm not sure I was quite so relieved when he returned about two hours later, with bags of his own, and with Yuki in tow.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was thrilled to see Yuki. I just didn’t know what to expect with her and her father planning to stay here.

When Yuki first saw me, she ran to me and hugged me so hard that I thought she might break a few more of my ribs. Then we both cried a veritable flood while she told me she loved me and that she was glad I was alive.

I hadn't realized she was at the hospital with my friends on the day of my accident, and my heart hurt when she told me how worried she'd been. Nobody would tell her anything, she said, and when she wasn’t allowed to see me, she’d feared the worst. I said I was sorry for saying I didn't want anyone to come and see me in the hospital, and she said she understood, but I wondered if she did. In hindsight, I should've agreed to let her visit. I might've felt better after a hug from my favourite local super spy and internet personality, Yuki Okamoto.

Yuki and her father haven’t left here since Saturday night. He brought the smallest shikibuton for Yuki, and of course a normal sized one for himself, and the two of them have set up camp in the laundry room, of all places. Mom and Julian are in my room, Yuri's in his own room, and of course I'm still in the dining room, so it was the only spot left.

Mr. Okamoto said he was here to help. Nobody questioned him, not even Yuri. Since then, he's been doing all kinds of things around the house, including cooking and baking, which he's good at, and housecleaning chores, which he's not good at. Most importantly, he's doing things for Yuri, like helping him in the bathroom, and making sure he stays as nourished and hydrated as possible. Mom said he even gave him a bath this morning, which in her words, "left the upstairs bathroom looking like a small tsunami went through."

While Mom mused aloud about how he could've gotten so much water everywhere and why there were so many wet towels, and complained about the disaster area he'd left behind, I laughed so hard it hurt. I was trying to picture it, and all I could think about was the time me and Ellie were babysitting her cousins, and the four-year-old decided he wanted to be a sea monster while in the bath. We even got water on the ceiling that day, although we never mentioned it to Ellie’s aunt and uncle. I guessed Yuri probably hadn’t been anywhere near as lively as that kid had been, and it was much less likely that he’d wanted to play a game and splash around for fun, so it left me curious about the mess, too.

Bathtime tsunami notwithstanding, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thankful for Mr. Okamoto's help right now. I doubt he's anywhere close to my standards when it comes to Yuri's care, but far be it from me to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. That he's even here at all is astounding, and the fact that he basically rolled up his sleeves and plunged into the current state of madness in our home is a super big deal.

On a connected and somewhat lighter note, I'm pretty sure Julian and Mr. Okamoto are besties now. Mom still seems a little cool toward him, but he and Julian have instantly bonded over their shared interests. They both play the piano, they both love art, and apparently Mr. Okamoto is as big a science fiction and fantasy nerd as Julian. Not gonna lie, listening to the two of them geek out over video games, role playing, Llama Man comics, and classic sci-fi B movies like It Came From Sixam and Day of the Plant Sims was kind of surreal.

It was highly entertaining, having an Uncle Kaz movie marathon with them on Sunday night. We watched some of Uncle Kaz's older Japanese-language films, with English subtitles, and me and Mr. Okamoto tried our best to help Julian understand the jokes. It was fun and felt weirdly comfortable, and by the end of it, my father-in-law and future stepfather were on a first-name basis. I'm not even allowed to call my father-in-law Kenji, so obviously Julian has made a great impression.

Wait... let me backtrack a bit. Like, a lot of stuff happened before the movie marathon, and it's way more important.

On Sunday, we all slept in. Once everybody except Yuri had finally gotten out of bed, Mr. Okamoto and Yuki made rice, eggs and grilled fish for breakfast, and it was so good. Mom had to feed most of my meal to me, but Yuki and I figured out a way for me to grip a spoon without using my thumb, so with her guidance, I was able to feed myself a bowl of rice. It was strange not using chopsticks, and I still feel embarrassed about getting help to eat, but I'm learning to accept it. It’s only temporary, and things could be a lot worse, right?

But, I digress.

After breakfast, Julian helped me upstairs so I could lie down and cuddle with Yuri for a while, and try to figure out just how ill he was. I knew it was serious the night before, when he didn’t come downstairs to share my mattress in the dining room, but I didn’t know the extent of it until I could see him and physically touch him.

To my dismay, it was way worse than I’d expected. He’d been unwell for a couple of weeks before my accident, and I realized he’d been declining, but this was really bad. It blew my mind how he’d managed to hide the true severity of his pain from me, but I reminded myself that I hadn’t exactly been in a fit state to notice every little nuance of his demeanour and body language like I normally would.

Obviously, he’d been forcing himself to do everything he thought he had to do instead of resting and taking care of himself, and by Saturday night his body didn’t have enough fight left in it. His immune system is weak at the best of times, and it’s like he’s constantly pushing through a state of nearly always being mildly unwell, but this had clearly been a headlong rush into a full-on crash. There was no way he hadn’t seen this coming, even if I hadn’t.

Once I was settled in bed with him, I let him lay on top of me the way he likes, even though it made my cracked rib hurt like hell. It was pointless to say anything or to try stopping him. He was so out of it, he probably didn't even realize what he was doing and just instinctively crawled onto me, seeking any bit of familiarity and human closeness he could find. I felt bad for him because even though I was in discomfort, I knew he was in far more pain than I was. I could feel heat radiating off his skin, and every time I moved even slightly, he whimpered.

I wished with every fibre of my being that I could make all his suffering disappear. I hated that he was so sick, and that it was at least partly my fault for not paying better attention to him and letting it get to this point without insisting that he needed rest and medical attention.

"This isn't good, Yuri," I told him, after I’d inadvertently shifted my weight, and he literally cried out from either the movement itself or the abrupt change of pressure against his stomach.

“Don’t… don’t do that,” he gasped. “Hurts. Gonna make me throw up.”

Normally, I might make a joke about him throwing up in bed, but this was not a laughing situation. “If you have to, tell me. I’ll yell for your dad.”

“Please… don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. His tears were soaking through my t-shirt, and I felt helpless to comfort him. “Do you want to lay a different way? It might be less uncomfortable if you’re lying on your side or your back.”

“Wanna lie like this. With our whole bodies touching.”

“We can do that with you on your side,” I said. “You can be the little spoon.”

“Don’t wanna be the little spoon.” And to prove how adamant he was about it, he curled his fingers around a fistful of my shirt, as if daring me to pry him loose. I could feel his little hand trembling against my shoulder .

I rubbed small lines on his back with my fingertips. It felt inadequate, but it was all I could do with my arm in a cast. “Yuri,” I said. “Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Yeah,” was the weak reply.

"You need to see a doctor.”

“Don't want to.”

“You can’t go on like this. You need help, and you need to be somewhere where somebody can take care of you properly.”

"No..." He dragged out the single English syllable in a long whine before continuing in barely intelligible Japanese, "Want you to take care of me."

"I can't, sweet baby," I said. "I love you so much and I want to do everything for you, and I really I wish I could, but this is too much for either of us right now. You need to be where somebody can tend to you night and day, and I think you're gonna need medicine and intravenous fluids to help you get better."

"No," he repeated.

"Yes," I insisted. "Remember last time you were this sick? You needed fluids and antibiotics, and your doctor said the hospital was the best place for you."

"Don't want antibiotics. Make me feel worse."

"I know, but only for a short time. After that, you'll start feeling better a lot quicker. Let your dad take you to the hospital so you can get better?”

“No.”

“I’m worried about you, Yuri. Please.”

"Don't wanna be alone." he said.

"You wouldn't be alone. Me and Mom and Julian would all take turns staying with you. I think even your dad would. He's really stepped up lately, you know."

"Gotta tell him..." Yuri said, but then seemed to lose the thought, and mumbled something that sounded like, "My violin."

I smiled despite the circumstances. "You have to tell your dad about your violin? What about it?"

He let out a little grunt of frustration and tugged feebly at my shirt. "Victor!"

"I'm here."

"Listen."

"I'm listening, love."

"My violin case. Tell Papa..." He trailed off momentarily, as if he was trying to think of how to make the most impact with as few words as possible. "In my violin case. Look. It's important."

"Okay," I agreed.

"Thank you," he whispered. And then, "Love you. Just... wanna protect you."

"I know," I said. "I love you too."

"Please... tell Papa. Promise."

"I promise."

That satisfied him, and he let out a long, shaky breath that was half sigh and half moan. "Gonna sleep," he murmured. He was still clutching my shirt, but it didn't take long before I felt his fingers relax.

I lay awake, thinking. I couldn't imagine what would be in Yuri's violin case other than his violin, and why it'd be so important for his father to see it, but he was so insistent that I figured I'd better not ignore his request. Besides, I promised, and you guys know how I hate breaking promises, especially ones I've made to Yuri.

When I was sure he was sound asleep, I eased him off me as carefully as I could, and then climbed out of bed. It took me a second to orient myself, and then a few more seconds to crawl my way over to where Yuri usually keeps his violin case, on the floor next to his dresser. I could make out the shape of it, and to my surprise, the distinct shape of his violin on its stand next to it. He almost never leaves his violin out for long periods of time. I didn't know when he'd practiced last, but it definitely hadn't been since I got out of the hospital. He wouldn't have left it out since Thursday, so I guessed he must've taken it out sometime on Saturday.

But why?

Cursing my clumsy fingers, I fumbled with the latch of the case for a minute or two. I let out my breath when I finally got it open.

What I found inside was something I totally did not expect. It was a beige file folder stuffed with papers.

I didn't dare try to lift it out by myself, fearing that I'd end up spilling the contents all over the floor. I knew I wouldn't be able to read anything, but I had to soothe my curiosity anyway, so I hooked my fingers under the cover of the folder and flipped it open.

I'll admit, had no idea what to make of it when I thought I saw two passports inside. Why would Yuri have our passports in a folder like this? He’d said he wanted to protect me, but surely that didn’t include leaving the country? Neither of us were in any shape for that. I didn’t understand.

I probably would've panicked if my bruised brain hadn't suddenly registered the fact that both passports were red. The covers of Canadian passports are dark blue, so neither of these could've been mine, and if mine wasn't there then Yuri's wasn't either. Even if either of us could travel, he wouldn't go anywhere without me. I was sure of that.

But, that only begged the question, whose passports were they? And what was Yuri doing with them?

Obviously, it wasn't something he was trying to hide from me, or he wouldn't have directed me to them and asked me to tell his father. The thing was, there was no way in hell I was going to show anything to Mr. Okamoto until I knew what it was myself.

Since I couldn't read the papers, and I couldn't ask Yuri about them, I decided there was only one thing to do. I made my way the short distance back to the bed, and then felt around carefully on the nightstand to locate Yuri's phone. I was glad we'd activated voice dialling on both our phones a few days ago, as that was going to make my mission a whole lot easier.

I had to concentrate to remember how Yuri had listed my mother in his contacts, but once I got it, I said aloud into the silence of the room, "Hey, Siri. Call Dr. Grace."

Mom answered on the second ring, and she sounded both confused and worried. "Yuri? Is everything okay, sweetheart? Why are you calling me from upstairs?"

"Mom, it's me," I said. "Yuri's sleeping. Everything's pretty much as you'd expect, but... can you come up, please? I need your help with something important."

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'll show you in a minute. Please, just come up. I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”

That last sentence came out weird, like a line from a badly-scripted TV show, but I didn’t waste brainpower stressing over it. I had a feeling I’d need to save my mental energy to deal with whatever I was about to learn about the passports and Yuri’s folder full of mystery papers.

"Okay," Mom said. "Hang on. I'll be right there."

[malarkay]

Inside the Wire Chapter 12

During their final battle with the Storm Hawks, Cyclonis is stopped just short of destroying the Dark Ace. Victory, however, eludes them. With Cyclonia fallen, and escape to the Farside cut off, they're forced to confront the consequences of their actions.

In the three days since he arrived at Zartacla, Swift had found roughly half a dozen other problems he wanted to be resolved before he returned to Atmosia, most of them centred around the treatment of the prisoners in Section A.  Apparently, Moss believed that higher security prisoners deserved harsher living conditions, a belief that he didn’t subscribe to.  

They were kept on a lower-calorie diet than the others.  Their regular intake was on par with the punishment rations doled out to misbehaving prisoners in Sections B and C, and their punishment rations were at the starvation level.  It was unsustainable in the long run and went a long way to explaining why they had been hit the hardest by the flu that had besieged the prison.  Malnutrition would do that.  It was a wonder that any of them had managed to stay healthy.  

The unit also wasn’t heated properly.  That was going to change.  Based on average recorded temperatures and humidity levels on Zartacla, they’d be required to ensure that the thermostat readings inside the prison never dipped lower than 18 or higher than 30 degrees.  Prisoners would also be issued weather-appropriate clothing.  How Moss thought it was acceptable to toss them out into the yard every day without a jacket in the dead of winter, rain or shine, was beyond him.

Moss himself had been uncharacteristically quiet since their encounter in the Courtyard and, despite the air of resentment that tinged their interactions, was complying with the changes he was making.  Or so it seemed.  He made a mental note to implement regular surprise inspections for the foreseeable future.  He didn’t expect any positive changes to stick on their own.  There would need to be accountability.

“I just don’t know how you expect me to maintain discipline when you’ve tied my hands so tight,” Moss complained on the third day, his old self finally starting the resurface.

“Productively.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sections B and C have training regimens and work details.  Section A has nothing.  Of course you’re running into behavioural issues.  They’re bored.  Put them to work.”

“The only work details that could use more men are outside the walls.  I can’t send them out there.  They’re security threats.”

“Figure something out.  Create work for them.  Also, this place is a recreational wasteland.“

“It’s a prison. They ain’t here to be entertained.”

“No, but it’ll make your job easier if they are.  Liven up the yards a little.  Maybe build a library.  If you’re having problems with Cyclonis, that’s an easy solution.  The kid’s a voracious reader.  I’m sure she’s not the only one here who is.”

Moss scoffed at his suggestions. 

“I’m trying to help.”

“Yep,” Moss answered dismissively.  “Any idea when I’ll be seeing the back of you?”

“I should be out of your hair in another day or two.”  He just needed to make sure the necessary changes were being implemented first.

~*~*~

“How’s she doing?” Swift asked Tross, the medic on duty.  

“Fever finally broke.  Her appetite’s improving, and she’s coherent.”

“She can speak for herself,” Cyclonis said irritably from her bed nearby, and he smirked.

“And ill-tempered,” Tross added.

He nodded.  “All positive signs.”  He walked over to her bed.  She tried to sit up as he approached, but he shook his head, discouraging the move.  “Save your energy,” he said, leaning on one of the side rails.  He looked down at her silently until she started to look uncomfortable, and then he spoke.  “Out of curiosity, do you remember the last piece of advice I gave you?”

The way her mouth thinned told him that she did.  “Let’s hear it,” he prompted.

“Stay out of trouble,” she said grudgingly.

“How’s that going?”

“I’ve been trying,” she said.

“Escaping is your way of staying out of trouble, is it?”

“Before then, I was trying,” she grumbled, trying to cross her arms, but she was stopped short by the handcuffs that secured one of her wrists to the railing.  She gave it a few violent yanks out of sheer frustration until he closed his hand around her forearm, holding it down.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he admonished her.  

She didn’t try to fight him, and after a moment, he let her go.  “I have been trying,” she repeated.  “But Mr. Moss has had it out for me since day one.  It’s like I can’t do anything right.”

She sounded so bitter that he believed her, and he was unsurprised that Moss would target her.  He was the kind of man who, if he had ever felt slighted or disrespected by someone, would repay the favour with interest.  And he had little doubt that Cyclonis, either intentionally or unintentionally, had at some point made the man feel small.

“So you decided to give him a reason to have it out for you?  You racked up four Level 1, eight Level 2 and two Level 3 infractions in one night.”

“That sounds serious.  You don’t think that will impact my chances of someday getting out of here, do you?” she deadpanned.

She made him thankful that he had a good poker face sometimes.  This was why he hated the kind of sentencing that the tribunal had handed down to her.  When people knew without a doubt that they would die in prison, there wasn’t much incentive to respect the rules.

“It does push back your eligibility for parole by nearly fifteen years,” he answered as if her snide comment had been made in earnest.

She scoffed, as he knew she would.  “It pushes back Ace’s eligibility for parole by nearly fifteen years, too,” he added pointedly, and she looked away from him, jaw clenching.  

“So?” she said.  “They were never going to grant him parole, anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?”

A silence fell between them.  

“I worry,” he confessed to break the silence.  “I can’t help you here like I could on Atmosia.  And you’re not helping yourself, making an enemy of Mr. Moss.”

“I’m fine,” she claimed, a little too vehemently.  “And I don’t need your help.”

“You didn’t look fine when I found you in that cramped cell.”

More silence.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you called me ‘Dad’.”

He grinned as she turned red.  “That never happened!”

“Deny it all you like; there are some things you can never take back,” he teased her.  She groaned in frustration, covering her eyes with her free hand, and his grin softened into a smile.  “Speaking of your father….”  He took a short stack of photos out of his pocket and rapped them against her hand.  She uncovered her eyes, taking the pictures when he offered them.  “Medics found those in your pocket.  I held onto them for you while you were out of it.”  Had they been handed over to Moss, he didn’t think she’d ever see them again.

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem.  You want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever was on your mind in isolation.  You seemed upset.  Something to do with him?”

“No,” she said, not elaborating any further.

He knew she was lying, but he also knew pushing the issue would get him nowhere, so he moved on.  “I have to return to Atmosia soon, but you’re welcome to keep in touch with me via letter.  If you continue to feel unfairly singled out by Mr. Moss, I want to hear about it.”

“No letter with anything bad to say about Mr. Moss is making it off this terra.”

“Not if you go through the proper channels.  But I know that you get regular visitors who know where to find me and who probably won’t read your letters if you politely ask them not to.”

“You want me to use the Storm Hawks to smuggle contraband letters out of prison?”

“Now you’re concerned about rule-breaking?”

“I’m just surprised you’re encouraging it.”

“Just this once.  I recommend you follow every other rule to the letter.  I don’t want to have to come all the way out here again because you can’t follow my advice.”

“How did Atmosia even hear about what happened?  I doubt Mr. Moss bragged about it to the Council.”

“The Storm Hawks ferreted it out.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead.  “So they know everything?” she asked tightly.  

“Everything.”

“Great.  Can’t wait to have that conversation.”

“Be glad that they figured it out.  You’d still be sick and starving in isolation if they hadn’t.  Not to mention that abomination Mr. Moss had hidden away behind his office would still be standing.”

Her hand stilled, and she opened her eyes.  “It’s gone?”

“It’s gone,” he confirmed.  “Thanks to them.  So I think you can survive one embarrassing conversation with them when you see them again.”

“I’d rather not,” she said, coming dangerously close to sounding whiny.

He grinned.  He hadn’t completely forgotten what it was like to be her age, how much more important the opinions of his peers had seemed compared to those of the adults in his life.  He understood her humiliation over them knowing about her failure and the punishment that followed, and he could use it.  “Good.  Hold onto what you’re feeling now and remember it whenever you think about doing something stupid.  Ask yourself, ‘Will doing this give the Storm Hawks ammunition they can use to mock me with?’  And then assume that the answer is yes.”

“You’re not funny.”

That just made him grin wider.  He knew she had an unhealthy habit of dwelling on things when she wasn’t kept busy, and while he’d usually try to discourage that tendency, it might do her some good in this case.  The Storm Hawks were good kids.  When they heard about what happened in the Courtyard, they were horrified.  However she was picturing the conversation with them going was almost certainly worse than the reality.  But he kept that opinion to himself.  Let her sweat over it for the next few days.  Maybe it would make her think twice the next time she thought about escaping.

“My son keeps telling me the same thing, but I think you’re both wrong.  Anyway, I have more work to do.  And you should get some more sleep; you still look like death warmed over.  I’ll check back in before I leave to say goodbye.”

~*~*~

“You’re getting sent back to your cell today,” Alba told her two days later.  “You should still take it easy until we’ve fully cleared you, though.  Rest.  Stay hydrated.  No going out in the cold.”

She didn’t argue with those instructions.  She still felt tired all the time.  And weak.  She had been allowed to shower the night before, and even that had felt like a challenge.

“But before you return to your cell, you’re scheduled for a visit with the Storm Hawks.”

She stifled a groan.  No.  Why?  She wasn’t ready to face them yet.

Piper was probably dying to give her another one of her patented talking-to.  And Aerrow doubtlessly had some cutting remarks to throw her way, too.  As humiliating as this meeting was sure to be, she figured she could handle whatever taunts and lectures they had planned.  Her mind had helpfully supplied her with all sorts of possibilities while she tried, and failed, to take Captain Swift’s advice to sleep.  And while she wasn’t looking forward to any of it, it was better than the alternative: pity.  If she saw even a shred of sympathy from either of them, she would lose it.  

Is that why they had gone to the Council?  Why Captain Swift was sent here and the Courtyard dismantled?  Did they feel sorry for her?  She realized she was grinding her teeth at the thought and forced herself to relax.  

She was Master Cyclonis.  She had been, at least.  And there were certain feelings a Master of Cyclonia, even former ones, should invoke in others.  Awe and loyalty.  Fear and hatred.  But no one should ever feel sorry for one.  That implied weakness, and that would not do.  Her grandmother had taught her that.  Bile rose in her throat at the thought of her, but she swallowed it back down.  She has been feverish and confused.  Those nightmares she had had while in isolation were just that, nightmares.  Not memories. 

She sighed.  She was just so tired.  She didn’t want to deal with the Storm Hawks today, no matter what kind of mood they were in.  Maybe if she were standoffish enough, they’d take the hint and keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves.

And maybe then hell would freeze over.  Fingers crossed.

~*~*~

She and Aerrow had been sitting in the visiting room alone for ten minutes.  They had requested to see the Dark Ace along with Cyclonis today, but so far, neither of them had materialized.  

A minute later, a guard appeared.  He was also alone. “No Dark Ace,” he told them.

“What do you mean no Dark Ace?” Aerrow asked, sounding more tired than surprised. 

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Can’t you force him to come?”  No matter how much confirmation Aerrow got that the Dark Ace was still safely imprisoned, he still wanted to see it with his own eyes.

“Not really.”

Aerrow crossed his arms.  “Okay.  Any idea how much longer we’ll be waiting on Cyclonis?”

“Should just be a few more minutes.  It takes some time to get discharged from the infirmary.”

True to the guard’s prediction, it was only a couple more minutes before Cyclonis was brought in.  Sitting, she rested her outstretched arms on the table.  She didn’t look directly at either of them, instead focusing her gaze somewhere behind them.  “Let’s just get this over with.”

She didn’t look well.  Between suffering the fallout from the escape attempt and not yet being fully recovered from her illness, Piper wasn’t surprised.  She also wasn’t surprised that Cyclonis wanted to get right down to business.  But a lot had happened since their last meeting, and she wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t.

“So-“ she began and was immediately cut off.

“I don’t want to talk.  Just inspect the cuffs and go.”

“Cyclonis-“

“I said I don’t want to talk,” she snapped, her expression hardening, though she was still looking beyond her instead of at her.

“Hey, how about you pout over still being here on your own time?” 

The look Cyclonis gave Aerrow could freeze a Blizzarian.  He did an excellent job of appearing unbothered by it.  “I’m not pouting.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” she said.  “But I promise that we didn’t come here today to judge you, lecture you, or tease you about anything that’s happened.  So will you relax?”

Cyclonis sighed but finally looked at her.  So she had expected them to light into her.  Well, given their history, that fear wasn’t unfounded.  

Maybe if she was nice, she could make her feel bad about her uncharitable assumptions.

“How are you?” 

She was wrong because Cyclonis got all defensive again.  “I don’t need your pity,” she said harshly. 

“I’m not offering it,” she snapped back.  She wouldn’t spend the entire visit tiptoeing around the other girl like she was in the middle of a minefield.  If it were a confrontation she had come here expecting, she’d happily give her one.  Then hopefully, they could move on without all this awkwardness.  “You think I feel sorry for you?  Ha!  I reserve those feelings for victims of circumstances outside their control, not troublemakers who cause all their own problems.  What did you think would happen when you tried to escape the inescapable prison, genius?”

She hoped she sounded convincingly scornful.  Judging by the insulted look on Cyclonis’ face and the shocked amusement on Aerrow’s, she had.  

“Are you done?” Cyclonis asked.

“No, that wasn’t a rhetorical question,” she said, twisting the knife a little.  “Answer it.”

“I-” Cyclonis began, caught off guard by the command.  Her surprise didn’t last long, though, and a scowl quickly replaced her uncertainty.  “Just shut up and check the cuffs,” she demanded.

“I’m not doing anything until you answer my question.  We can sit here all day.”

“I thought we’d succeed,” she said through her teeth.  “It was a sound plan.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t.  Stop trying to weasel your way out of paying for your crimes.  Every time you’ve tried, you’ve made things worse for yourself.”

“Now are you done?” Cyclonis asked, trying to sound huffy but just sounding tired.

“Yes.”

“What about you?” Cyclonis asked, shifting her gaze to Aerrow.  “Anything to add?”

“Nope, that about covers it,” he said, just cheerfully enough to annoy Cyclonis, judging by her frown.

Piper took one of Cyclonis’ hands and began inspecting the cuff.  “How’s Dark Ace?” she asked, figuring it would give Cyclonis an oblique way to open up about what had happened to them.

“I don’t know; we haven’t seen each other since that night.  Why don’t you ask him?”

“We wanted to, but he declined to meet with us.”

“That’s an option?”

“For him, yes,” Aerrow said.  “For you, no.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly the highlight of our week, either,” Aerrow agreed, drawing a fleeting smirk out of Cyclonis.

“So, how good a job did the foil do?” she asked as she continued scrutinizing the first cuff.  Cyclonis had had a lot of time in isolation to tamper with them, and she didn’t want to overlook anything.  “It couldn’t have been easy getting full coverage around the cuffs.  Or keeping it in place.”

Cyclonis’ smile was less fleeting this time.  “I did run into some integrity issues with the shields, but they exceeded my expectations.  Going in, I just wanted them to work well enough to stop the Leechers from interacting with the heliblade.  But they were so effective that I was able to handle some crystals.  To a limited extent, anyway.  I didn’t want to push my luck.”

“So what happened?  What went wrong?”  She’d wondered how Cyclonis’ plan had fallen apart since learning about the escape attempt.  She, more than anyone, knew how difficult it was to beat Cyclonis in a fight when crystals were involved.  And yet Mr. Moss had pulled it off?  

Cyclonis’ smile faded, and she looked embarrassed.  “I, uh, did some math wrong.”

“Math?”

“Yeah.  I miscalculated the amount of energy I needed to overload an engine crystal.  They were of higher quality than I realized in the heat of the moment, and I went a little too far.  It was supposed to blow up in Mr. Moss’ face and take him out, but it exploded too soon.  I got caught in the blast, and things went downhill from there.”

So she had been right.  It had been sheer dumb luck that prevented Cyclonis and the Dark Ace from escaping that night.  Cyclonis didn’t often make such rudimentary mistakes.  A knot formed in the pit of Piper’s stomach at the thought of how close they had come to succeeding.  

“What would you have done if you had escaped?”

Cyclonis regarded her with a look that reminded her of how dangerous she was.  “I don’t have a lot of options, do I?”

“There are always options.”

~*~*~

Cyclonis’ cell was a mess.  It had been tossed while she was gone, and all her things had been strewn about and left to wrinkle on the ground.  She did a quick inventory and discovered that the leftover scraps of foil she hadn’t used and her extra blanket were missing.  The page that Piper had torn out of her notebook was also missing.  She figured it must have been confiscated and thrown out rather than handed over to Piper, or else she would have mentioned it.  That was too bad.  She had laid some strong groundwork for that project. 

Surprisingly, her radio was still where she had left it.  She had expected to lose that privilege and was pleasantly surprised she hadn’t.  

She turned on the radio and nearly jumped out of her skin when the aggressive, bass-heavy music Snipe favoured blared out of the speaker at maximum volume.  She turned it down and stormed over to his cell, stopping in the doorway.  “Snipe!  Stay out of my room and keep your hands off my things,” she ordered.

“You’re back!  Ace told us you were really sick.  Ravess thought you were gonna die.”

“I never said she was going to die,” Ravess called over from her cell next door.  “I said I hoped she would.”

She rubbed her temples.  She’d been back in the cellblock for two minutes, and she was already getting a headache.

“Snipe, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep my hands off your stuff.  I don’t see what the big deal is.  You weren’t using it, and I was sick of listening to Ravess’ dumb violin.”

“Where did Ravess get a violin?”

“The Storm Hawks.”

She closed her eyes briefly and sighed, at a loss for words.  Turning around to return to her cell, she stopped short when Snipe spoke again.  “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

She turned back to him, probably looking as confused as she felt.  “Why?”

He shrugged.  “I dunno, it’d be weird if you did.”

Shaking her head, she returned to her cell and began cleaning up.  A moment later, she felt someone watching her.  She turned toward the door to find Ace standing there and froze.  What was she supposed to say to him?  How was she supposed to apologize for colossally screwing up their escape attempt?  An attempt that should have gone off without a hitch but instead had ended so horribly.  

They stared at each other for a moment, then he stepped into her cell and picked up one of her jumpsuits, folding it before placing it neatly into her locker.  She relaxed.  Fiddling with the radio, she tuned it to one of those classic rock stations he liked, and together they got her cell back in order.  

Once done, she plopped down onto her cot.  Ace pushed her legs out of the way so he could sit.  Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to the radio.  

She waited until the station cut to advertisements before speaking.  “Ace-” she began, but he cut her off.

“Third time’s the charm.”

“What?”

He opened his eyes to look at her.  “We’ll make it out next time.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, even though she wasn’t sure there’d be a next time.  Worse, she could see that same uncertainty reflected in his eyes.  They’d blown the best opportunity to escape that they would ever be given, and they both knew it.

~*~*~

The following week passed uneventfully.  Mr. Moss only made rounds through their cell block once the entire time.  His hand was in a cast, and he glared at her when she asked about it, claiming that he had injured it while working on Bessy.  She could tell he was lying but decided it was in her best interests not to press him.

There had been some noticeable improvements made that she figured they had Captain Swift to thank for.  It wasn’t so miserably cold at night, for one.  And while the food wasn’t any better, there was more of it.  She didn’t get hungry again an hour or two after meals anymore.  Even Snipe complained less frequently than before, though he hadn’t given it up entirely.

Unfortunately, ‘uneventful’ gave her more time to dwell on her fever dreams.  The more she tried to push them out of her mind, the more they popped into her head unbidden.  She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they were real memories.  

There was a simple way to test that theory.  She could find that book her father had mentioned.  If it existed, if an ancestor had written it, and if it was about what he had said it was about, that would certainly lend credence to the idea that those dreams had been real memories.  Not incontestable proof, of course, but it would be compelling nonetheless.

But did she want to know?  What good would it do?  It would just poison the feelings she has for her grandmother.  She had raised her.  She had taught her everything she knew.  She loved her.  Why was she even considering this?  Better not to think about it.

She lost a lot of sleep that week not thinking about it.

~*~*~

Monday morning brought an unwelcome change to their routine.  After breakfast, instead of being led back to their cellblock, they were brought down to the main yard.  On the far side of the yard, a cyclone fence had been raised, forming a separate enclosure bordered on three sides by the existing walls.  Along one wall sat a giant pile of sand, a stack of empty sandbags, and two shovels.  

Mr. Moss was waiting for them, Hamish at his side.  He looked pleased with himself, which didn’t bode well.  “It’s been brought to my attention that idle hands do nothin’ but stir up trouble,” he said without preamble.  “So I’ve decided y’all need something to do with your time here.  That’s why from now on, you’ll be out here Monday through Friday, moving that there pile of sand.  You’re gon’ fill these sandbags, haul ‘em to the other side of the yard, and build a wall three meters long by two meters high.  When you’re finished, one of the guards will measure it to make sure it meets those specifications.  Once it does, you’re done for the day.  I reckon it should keep y’all busy for about eight to ten hours.  Longer if you dilly-dally.  If you think sundown will bring an early end to your day, you’re mistaken.  The guards up there,” Mr. Moss said, pointing to the watchtowers to either side of them, “will be keeping an eye on you.  If you’re still working when it gets dark, they’ll provide you with light so you can see what you’re doing.   Then tomorrow, you’ll empty the bags and start all over.”

“I think there’s been some mistake.  I understand how these two have earned this assignment,” Ravess protested as she gestured to her and Ace.  “But Snipe and I have done nothing to deserve this.”

“There’s been no mistake.  All y’all have been nothing but trouble.  An honest day’s work may be just what you need to keep you from getting into any more.  Hamish!  Give ‘em their work gloves.”  Hamish dutifully handed them each a pair of leather gloves.  “You best get to it,” Mr. Moss suggested. 

They paired off.  “This should take roughly four hundred bags to complete,” Ace calculated.  “To keep things fair, each team should fill and move two hundred.  Snipe and I will fill our share of the bags first while you two build the base of the wall,” he said, nodding to her and Ravess. 

“Or you and Cyclonis can build the wall on your own since you’re the reason we’re all being punished,” Ravess suggested.  “That would be fair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ace said.  “Do you want to be out here ‘til midnight?”

“I don’t see why not,” Ravess shot back.  “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Did I forget to mention the most important part?” Mr. Moss spoke up from where he was still watching them.  “If you don’t work, you don’t eat.  So maybe you should try Ace’s plan.  Anyway, we’ll leave you to it,” he told them as he and Hamish left, closing and locking the gate behind them.

Ravess glared at her and Ace.  “Let’s just get this over with.”

They went with Ace’s plan.  She held the bag open as Ace shovelled sand into it.  Once filled, she hauled the bag to the other side of the yard and added it to their wall.  It was dirty, tiring work.  The bags were heavier than she thought they’d be, and with her just having been cleared by medical the day before, she was only a little embarrassed to find herself struggling with the task as the morning wore on.  Ravess was doing better, but Ravess hadn’t spent the last three weeks being sick, she justified.  

Guards offered them regular water breaks, and once they were halfway done with their task, sack lunches were brought out to them.  They were given as much time as they wanted for their lunch break, but they didn’t take advantage.  None of them were eager to draw this out any longer than they had to.  

They traded places after lunch and, as it turned out, filling the sandbags wasn’t any easier than carrying them.  Snipe was the only one whose mood seemed to improve after lunch.  He’d wait until Ravess had filled five bags before hoisting them up and carrying them to the other side, going on about how this was going to help him get back all his lost gains.  He even challenged Ace to race him a few times.  When Ace didn’t play along, Snipe labelled him a spoilsport.

They finished just in time for dinner.

The next morning, she woke up sore and not looking forward to the day ahead.  This was going to get very old, very fast.

They were brought back out to the yard after breakfast.  Ravess stopped in the middle of the yard and stared at the sandbag wall with an unreadable expression.  Thinking nothing of it, she went to the wall and pulled down one of the sandbags.  Dumping out the sand, she turned to toss the empty bag onto the ground and got sucker punched in the face.  She stumbled back, hitting the sandbag wall before the throbbing pain in her cheek and the realization of what just happened hit her.  

She was grabbed by the front of her jumpsuit and held against the wall as she looked up into Ravess’ snarling face.  “I told you we weren’t done.”  Ace came up behind Ravess, grabbing her by the shoulders, ready to pull her away.   “Get your hands off me, Ace; this doesn’t concern you,” Ravess spat at him.

She nodded to Ace, who backed off.  She and Ravess needed to sort out their differences on their own.

“You’re still mad that we didn’t include you in our plan?” she sneered at Ravess.

“Oh, there is so much more than that to be mad at you about.  You’ve had this coming for a long time.”  

Ravess drew back her fist.  She broke the hold she had on her and ducked under the blow.  Grabbing a fistful of sand, she pushed Ravess away from her and flung the sand at her face.  Ravess turned her head and threw an arm up to shield herself, which protected her from the worst of it.  Still, it was enough of a distraction to allow her to tackle the other woman to the ground.  

“It’s not my fault you’re here,” she said, struggling to pin Ravess down.  She’d never thought about how much upper body strength an archer must have until now.

“The hell it isn’t; we’re all here because you failed to be the leader Cyclonia needed!”

“Well, you’d know all about failure, wouldn’t you?  You excel at it.  That’s why I banished you, and that’s what this is really about, isn’t it?  What do you want from me, Ravess?  To tell you I was wrong?”

“Please, we both know you would never.  So I’ll settle for making you bleed.”  

Ravess grabbed her collar and yanked hard, unbalancing her and giving herself the opening she needed to flip their positions and start pummeling her.

She tucked her chin and put her arms up to guard her face, protecting her head as best she could while she worked her way into a position that would allow her to get out from under Ravess.  Getting the leverage she needed, she rolled, throwing Ravess off her and scrambling to her feet.  

Ravess was up at the same time and went right back on the offensive, taking several swings at her that she was able to dodge or block.  It didn’t take long for the other woman to become visibly frustrated.  It made her sloppy, and soon Ravess took a wild swing at her, leaving herself open.  It was just the opportunity she needed.  Stepping in, she landed a solid blow to her temple.  It didn’t knock her out, but it did disorient her.  She disengaged, taking a few wobbly steps backwards before dropping to one knee and raising one hand in a ‘don’t come any closer’ gesture.

She dropped her guard.  “Impatience always was your greatest weakness,” she said, smirking.  

“And arrogance was always yours,” Ravess answered as her other hand came up to hurl sand and dirt at her.  She reacted too slowly.  Some of the grit made it into her eyes, temporarily blinding her, and she didn’t see the punch coming.  Ravess’ fist connected with her nose with enough force to knock her flat.  Sharp pains shot through her entire face, making her eyes water, and she could taste blood.

Blinking her eyes to clear them, she saw the blurry form of Ravess standing over her with a vicious little grin. 

With a snarl, she lashed out with a kick aimed at Ravess’ knee.  Ravess dropped with a pained scream, and she leapt on top of her.  Straddling her, she grabbed the front of Ravess’ jumpsuit, holding her down while drawing back her fist, ready to repay her for the punch to the nose.

“That’s enough,” Mr. Moss’ voice rang out.  She hesitated but didn’t drop her fist.  “Don’t be stupid, Cyclonis,” he spoke again.  “You know I’ll happily make you regret it.  Now put your hands behind your head.”

She hesitated a moment longer, glaring at Ravess as her blood dripped onto the other woman.  “Go on, hit me,” Ravess dared her.  That galvanized her to act.  Scoffing, she put her hands behind her head.  Mr. Moss was there in an instant, grabbing her by the back of the collar with his non-broken hand and hauling her off of Ravess.  He shoved her toward Ace before turning back to Ravess.  “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

He offered her his hand, jerking her to her feet when she took it.  Ravess remained standing when he let go, though she had to shift most of her weight to her good leg.

“Pinch your nose as hard as you can tolerate,” Ace told her.  Wincing, she did as he advised, tilting her head back.  Gently, he put his hand on the back of her head and tilted it forward instead.

“My men tell me you started this fight,” Mr. Moss told Ravess.  “That true?”

“Yes,” she answered, sounding unrepentant.

“I hope it was worth a week in solitary.”

She looked up as he spoke to gauge her reaction.  Ravess watched her with a smirk that only grew when their eyes met.  “Oh, it was.”

“Well, alright,” Mr. Moss said.

~*~*~

Ace and Snipe were returned to their cells while she and Ravess were escorted to medical.  

An examination confirmed that her nose was broken.  The good news was that nothing looked displaced, and she could successfully, albeit painfully, breathe through it.  Tross taped it and gave her an ice pack before moving on to Ravess.

Ravess’ knee was sprained, and the hit she took to the temple seemed to have caused a mild concussion.  She was being admitted overnight to the infirmary for observation and, if no complications arose, would be moved to solitary in the morning.

An hour after being brought to the infirmary, she was back in her cell, and they spent the rest of the day locked down.

The following day, they were sent back out to the yard, where it became apparent that Ravess’ punishment was a punishment for them all.  Although they were down a man, they were still expected to build a sandbag wall to the original specifications.  What had taken them ten hours before was now taking them over twelve.

On Friday, it rained the entire day.  That brought a whole new dimension of misery to their work, and it took them even longer to complete the task.  Mr. Moss had had a good laugh at their expense when they finally trudged back into the prison, muddy and soaked to the bone.

All in all, it had been a very long, exhausting week.  

On Saturday, the Storm Hawks visited.  Since her Fridays were now spoken for, their visit date had been officially moved.  

“Come with me,” she told Ace at breakfast that day.

“No.”

“They asked to see you last time.”

“I remember.  I refused then, too.”

“Ace!”

“Whining doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not whining.”

“Really?  Because you sounded the same way when you were seven, and I was teaching you how to handle getting knocked down without crying about it.”

She frowned.  “I still think that was a messed up thing to do to a 7-year-old.”

He shrugged.  “It’s one of the first combat lessons every page who hopes to become a Sky Knight learns at that age.  It’s important.  Besides, I couldn’t hold off any longer, even if I wanted to.  You were bored doing nothing but running drills and wanted to move on to real sparring.  You needed to be prepared for the reality of what you were asking for.”

Before she could respond to that, Snipe spoke up.  “If Ace doesn’t wanna go meet with the Storm Hawks, can I come?  They brought me food that one time when you guys were locked up.  D’you think they’d do it again if I asked?”

“I don’t know, Snipe.  Do you have any other information they want to bribe out of you?” she asked.  

“I don’t think so.”

“Then no.”

“I don’t wanna go, then,” he said, turning his attention back to his breakfast, and she looked back to Ace.  

“Please, Ace, do you know how insufferable they will be when I walk in looking like this so soon after the last debacle?”  She gestured to her face, at her broken nose and the bruising that had formed across her left cheek.  

“You didn’t have to fight Ravess, you know.  I could have handled her for you.”

“Of course I had to fight her.  I would have looked weak if I hadn’t.  And it only would have postponed the inevitable.”

He tilted his head, conceding the point.  

“I feel like I’m under a microscope when I meet with them.  It’s Aerrow’s fault.  I don’t know why he even bothers tagging along anymore.  You’d think he’d have better things to do with his time.”

“So you want me there to distract Aerrow?  Why?  What are you up to?”

“I have a favour to ask of Piper.  She’ll be more likely to agree if she doesn’t have him by her side, coming up with a hundred and one reasons why she shouldn’t.”

“Why?  Is it illegal?”

“No.”

“Unethical?”

“No.”

“Then why would he have a problem with it?”

“He doesn’t like me.  He’ll argue against helping me on general principle.”

He thought that over.

“It’s not a bad plan, bringing along someone he hates more than you.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Just this once.”

~*~*~

As she had hoped, Aerrow and Piper were caught off guard by Ace’s inclusion in the meeting. 

“Dark Ace,” Piper was the first to speak once everyone was settled around the table.  “We, uh, weren’t expecting you.  You look different.”

Aerrow smirked a little, adding a sarcastic, “Nice haircut.”

She’d gotten so used to his shorter hair that she didn’t notice it anymore, but judging by Ace’s scowl, he hadn’t quite gotten over the change.  “I didn’t have a say in the matter,” he said to Aerrow.  “What’s your excuse?”

The smirk dropped from Aerrow’s face.  “What’s wrong with my hair?” he quietly asked Piper.

“Nothing,” she reassured him.

Aerrow looked back at Ace with a mistrustful frown before looking at her.  The suspicion shifted to bemusement.

“What happened to you?”

That drew Piper’s attention from Aerrow to her.  “Were you in a fight?” she asked, exasperated.  “Who’d you tick off this time?  And how are you still finding time to make trouble?  Mr. Moss said he gave you guys jobs.”

Ace leaned in closer to whisper in her ear.  “I see now why you wanted me here.”

“If you have something to say, Dark Ace, say it to all of us,” Aerrow challenged.

“I was just remarking upon your navigator’s uncanny resemblance to an angry mother hen.”

“Hey!” Piper exclaimed.

Aerrow jumped quickly to Piper’s defence, and Ace nudged her.  With Aerrow’s feathers ruffled and his attention solely on Ace, now was the perfect time to speak with Piper.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked Piper, nodding toward one of the empty tables.

Piper looked suspicious but stood, and they moved to the other table.  “Okay, what do you want, and why did you think you needed to distract Aerrow to get it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

She grinned.  “Brave question.”

“Good talk,” Piper said, standing.

“Wait!  You’re the least stupid person I know.  Now sit down.”

Piper rolled her eyes but sat.  “You must really want whatever you’re going to ask me for to say that.”

“I need a favour.  I promise it’s nothing bad.”

“If it’s nothing bad, then why the subterfuge?”

“Because I want to keep this between us.  I didn’t even tell Ace what it’s about.  I need you to locate a book for me.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay.  What’s the book?”

“It’s called The Great Myth.”

“Who’s the author?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’m working off some pretty old memories here, Piper.”

“Okay…well, what’s it about?”

“It’s a history book.  The Terran Library of Atmosia might have a copy,” she suggested.  “That’s where I’d look first.”

“So what’s so important about this book?”

��Nothing.  Someone once suggested I read it.”

“Wow, you’re doing something someone asked you to do?” Piper joked.

“Very funny.”

“They must be important to you,” Piper said more seriously.

“They were.”  

Piper nodded.  “Okay, I’ll see if I can track down a copy for you.”  Looking back over to the other table, she said, “We should get back over there before they find a way to kill each other.  But first, seriously, are you okay?”

She shrugged off Piper’s concern.  “I’m fine.  It was a one-off fight,” she said.  She hoped.  “And I didn’t start it, by the way.  Your lack of faith in me is offensive.”

“You haven’t done anything to inspire me to believe in you.  Any time you want to try and change my mind, feel free.”

“That sounds like a fool’s errand.”

“I thought you never backed down from a challenge.”

She smirked, and they rejoined the other table, breaking up the argument the boys had been in the middle of.  There was no further conversation between them while Piper checked the cuffs, and they mutually agreed to end the visit immediately after.  

“This was fun,” Ace declared as the Storm Hawks stood.  “Can’t wait to do it again soon.”

“You’re coming to more of these visits?” Aerrow sounded agitated, and Ace’s eyes lit up with amused malice. 

“Perhaps.”

“That went well,” she grinned as they returned to their cells.  Ace’s answering laughter made him sound like his old self again.

~*~*~

Piper’s heart sank when the elderly librarian furrowed her brow in confusion upon hearing her request.  This couldn’t just be easy, could it?  Nothing about Cyclonis ever was.  

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of it, either.  Sorry for wasting your time,” she said, turning to go.  Maybe she would have better luck on Terra Rex.

“Wait, my dear, I’ve heard of it,” the librarian said, and she turned back to her hopefully.

“You have?”

The librarian broke out in a delighted smile.  “Oh yes, I did my dissertation on it.  I was surprised to hear someone your age ask to check it out.  It’s one of the seminal works of non-fiction we have in our archives, offering unprecedented insight into the early days of the Free Atmos.  And I know what you’re thinking, Terra Rex has the market cornered on early Atmosian historical artifacts.”

She wasn’t thinking that, but she nodded along anyway.

“But not,” the librarian said, dramatically pausing before continuing.  “From a Cyclonian perspective.”

“No offence, but I already know what the Cyclonian perspective is on the formation of the Free Atmos.”

“Do you?” the librarian asked, her brown eyes twinkling.  

“Don’t I?” she answered hesitantly.  The librarian just smiled, and she went on.  “What I don’t get is why I’ve never heard of this book until a few days ago.  If it’s such an influential history text-”

“Ah, that’s not precisely true.”

“I was told it’s a history book.”

“It’s a memoir.  You may never have heard of it, but you’ll find mentions throughout the footnotes of many of our history books.  Of course, so few people read footnotes these days.”

“A memoir?  Whose?”

The librarian clapped her hands before clasping them to curb her excitement.  “I am so glad you asked.”

She looked at the librarian expectantly.

“That’s one of history’s great unanswered questions.”

“The book was published anonymously?”

“Oh no, it was published under the name Canton I. Scylla.”

“You think that’s a pseudonym?”

“I know it is.  One of the few things we know for certain about him is that he went by a fake name.”

“No one knew his real name?”

“No.  But there are theories.  Nearly five hundred years worth of theories.  Would you like to take a seat, dear?  This will take a while.”

“Oh, no, thank you.  I just need-”

She cut off as the librarian ushered her to one of the tables and pulled out a chair for her.  With a pained smile, she sat.

Over the next several hours, she was given a comprehensive crash course on The Great Myth, its mysterious author, and the various academic theories surrounding both.

The book, which she decided she’d read before she handed it over to Cyclonis, sounded fascinating.  From what she was told, it painted a nuanced and thoughtful picture of the sociopolitical landscape of the Cyclonian Empire before, during, and after the Free Atmos broke away.  

Not much was known about Canton besides being a Cyclonian, born and raised somewhere within the Empire’s Core.  That was the nickname given to those terras that would remain a part of the Empire by those that would soon break away from it.  The ones that took more than they gave.  The ones blind to the suffering of the terras on the outskirts of the Empire, whose food they ate, whose crystals they burned through, and whose young men they pressed into service to protect the Core from their increasingly desperate brethren.

And it had been blindness at first.  Canton spoke with poignant nostalgia of a youth spent in blissful ignorance and of an Empire unaware that it was about to collapse in on itself.  He was happy, after all.  Everyone he knew was.  They wanted for nothing.  The thought that their experience was not universal never crossed their minds.

But as he grew, so did the outer terras’ discontent and his awareness.  It became harder to ignore.  He wrote, sometimes scathingly, of how the people of the Core, from the average citizen up to the Master himself, had tried.  And he wrote of the harsh measures taken once ignoring the problem became impossible.

Then the outer terras began to break away, and the real problems started.  The Core quickly discovered how reliant they had become upon those lost terras.  Resources dwindled, and people who had never known hardship began to experience it for the first time.  There was suffering and loss and anger.  Eamon Cyclonis, the Master then, quickly directed his people’s anger toward those terras who dubbed themselves the Free Atmos.  They had broken the Empire.  They had destroyed the prosperity they had all so recently enjoyed.  They were the enemy.

And Cyclonian jingoism was born.  

Canton left the Empire soon after, eventually settling on Atmosia itself.  He was an enigma—an academic with more than an academic knowledge of Cyclonian history and politics.  Theories abounded.  He was Cyclonian nobility, forced to flee the Empire after being accused of being a Free Atmosian sympathizer.  He was a member of the Master’s inner circle, exiled for some real or imagined failure.  He was a servant who had heard too much, who ran before the Master decided he needed to disappear.  

“I don’t think that last one is very likely,” the librarian told her.  “Canton was clearly very well educated.  A scholar with the soul of a poet,” she sighed, then scoffed at herself.  “Oh, listen to me!  I sound like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

She grinned.  “It sounds like he wrote one heck of a memoir.”

“That he did.  I’m afraid I’m not doing it justice.  You’ll see.”

“So, who do you think he was?”

The librarian grinned.  “Oh, I subscribe to the most controversial theory of all.”

She waited, but the librarian didn’t offer up an explanation.  “You’re not going to tell me?”

“You seem like a smart girl.  I want to see if you can figure it out.  Go on; it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then I’ll get you started.  Embrace your inner conspiracy theorist and ask yourself, ‘What’s in a name?’”

She stared at the librarian for a moment before smiling.  “No….”

The librarian raised her eyebrows and slid a pen and paper her way.  She wrote out the name Canton I. Scylla.  “You think it’s an anagram?” she asked the librarian as she wrote.

“There's a compelling reason to believe it is.”

She looked at the letters, mentally rearranging them in her head.  It didn’t take long for one name to jump out at her.  She crossed out the C, the O, and the N.  She crossed out the I.  She crossed out the S, C, Y, and one of the L’s.

Underneath, she wrote ‘Cyclonis.’

The librarian sat back with a satisfied hmph.

 “Eamon had two sons,” she explained.  “The eldest, Alaric, became Master after his death.  The youngest….”

She pointed to each of the five letters that remained.

“Altan?”

“Records are fuzzy about what became of him.  Full disclosure, we don’t know much about Cyclonian history following the formation of the Free Atmos.  They started guarding their secrets as jealously as they guarded their resources.  It’s possible that he lived out his life on Cyclonia, doing whatever it is those spare Cyclonis scions do.  Or….”

“Or he defected to Atmosia and wrote a book denouncing his own people.”

“Just so.  Of course, Canton denied that he was Altan to his dying day.  One can hardly blame him.  I have heard that he confessed on his deathbed to never marrying and having children to avoid perpetuating his ‘poisonous bloodline.’  As you can imagine, that tale is apocryphal.  All verifiable accounts say he died suddenly in his sleep.  But it’s a fun story.”

She laughed uncomfortably.  Fun.  

“Okay, but if he was Altan, why not stay on Cyclonia and try to fix things?  He saw the road they were heading down, and he knew what they were becoming.  He could have stopped it.  He could have at least tried.”

“Everything I’ve read about Alaric suggests that he was his father’s son in every way.  He would never allow himself to be steered off course by anyone, not even his brother.  To make any meaningful changes, Altan would have to become the Master of Cyclonia.  And that…well, as I said before, he was a scholar and a poet.  I don’t think he had it within him to do what needed to be done to make that happen.”

Piper sighed.  She wanted to be angry at him for not doing what needed to be done.  But at the same time, she could understand not wanting to cross certain lines.  He had been between a rock and a hard place, and she wasn’t sure what she would have done in his position.

“Is there some sort of study guide that gives an overview of all these theories I can borrow alongside The Great Myth?”

“You’re in luck; I have just the thing.  I even know the author personally,” the librarian said with a wink, and Piper laughed.  She’d certainly come to the right place.

~*~*~

Cyclonis learned of Ravess’ release from solitary when the woman showed up in the doorway of her cell after dinner.

She was on her feet in an instant.  “Are you here to get yourself thrown back into solitary already?”

Ravess chuckled.  “Don’t get your hackles up; I’m not here to fight you.”  She limped further into the cell, scoffing a little when she noticed her noticing.  “Credit where credit’s due; you’re scrappier than I expected you to be.”

“Why are you here, then?” she asked, crossing her arms.  

“I’ve had time to think things over, and I forgive you for not including me in your escape attempt.”

It was her turn to laugh.  Was she serious?  “Thank you, the guilt has been eating me up inside,” she said sarcastically.

Ravess sneered.  “What I really mean is that I wouldn’t want to include you in my escape attempt, either.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Not because I believe that you deserve to rot in here forever,” Ravess continued as if she hadn’t spoken.  “But because I’m starting to think you believe you deserve to rot in here forever.”

The small amount of entertainment she was getting from this conversation evaporated.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked as Ravess smiled, pleased with herself.

“You tell me.  You’re the one who botched two escape attempts.  You, who came within a hair’s breadth of conquering the entire Atmos, can’t break yourself out of prison?  You must not want it badly enough.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and that’s saying a lot.”

“There are only two explanations,” Ravess went on, unperturbed by the insult.  “Either the Atmosians succeeded in making you feel guilty, or you don’t want to go back home.  Maybe a little of both?  Hmm?  I can’t help but notice that you’re not arguing.”

“Where’s all this coming from, Ravess?  What’d I ever do to you?” 

“You mean besides leaving me stateless?  Thanks to your stupid little war, few neutral terras were left when you banished me.  Exiled from Cyclonian territory, not welcome within the borders of the Free Atmos, where exactly did you expect me to go?”

“My stupid little war?”

Ravess rolled her eyes.  “Of course that’s what you fixate on.”

“I never heard any complaints from you about the war back in Cyclonia.”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“As one of my top Commanders, if you had any concerns, it was your job to voice them.”

Ravess’ laughter was incredulous.  “You are severely overestimating your own reasonableness.  You tolerated dissenting opinions as well as you tolerated failure.”

“That’s not fair.  I was very patient with your and your brother’s failures.”

“While we were useful to you.  And the moment you thought you could get the job done without us, you tossed us aside.  All I ever tried to do was win your stupid little war,” Ravess needled her by emphasizing those last four words, “as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

“To help restore the Empire to its former glory.”

“To go home and focus on my music.”

“Really?  If you hated fighting so much, why did you go right back to it after the war ended?”

“To liberate Cyclonia after you sold it out!  I couldn’t very well go back to Bluster with it under Atmosian rule, could I?”

“You’re telling me you never cared about us conquering the Atmos?”

“Why should I?  What difference did it make to me if you ruled all of the Atmos or just half of it?”

She scoffed.  She couldn’t believe this.  How many other Cyclonians felt the way Ravess did?  

“Well, I’m sorry you were so miserable furthering the interests of the Empire and its people.”

“So were you,” Ravess said as if she had a revelation.

She shook her head in denial.

“Yes, you were!  Half the time, you treated ruling the Empire like a distraction that was taking you away from your real work.  It all makes sense now.  You just wanted everyone to leave you alone so you could play with your crystals, didn’t you?”

“That’s not true,” she frowned.  She didn’t appreciate Ravess questioning her dedication to the Empire.  So what if she hadn’t always been happy dealing with the minutiae of the job or the pomp and ceremony of state affairs?  She’d seen them all through, hadn’t she?  No one could accuse her of shirking her imperial duties.

“Of course not,” Ravess said, her tone falsely placating.  “I’m sure you’d go back to the Empire and pick things up right where you left off if only you could escape….”

“I didn’t sabotage those escape attempts,” she said, growing more annoyed by the second.  

“Maybe, maybe not.  But one thing is for certain.  If and when I stage my escape, you won’t be a part of it.  I want mine to succeed.”

“Best of luck, now get out,” she said, pointing to the door behind Ravess.  She half suspected that Ravess was trying to goad her into throwing a punch now, and she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Gladly,” Ravess said with a smirk before turning and limping back to her cell.

~*~*~

Piper set the book down on the table in front of her, watching Cyclonis as she did so.  After reading the book, she had a hard time understanding what Cyclonis wanted with it.  It directly contradicted everything she claimed to believe about her empire. 

Even stranger, Cyclonis looked at the book as if she saw a ghost.  Glancing over at the other table, where the Dark Ace was once again serving as a distraction for Aerrow, she judged that she had time to ask a few questions before handing over The Great Myth, along with the librarian’s book of theory and analysis she had borrowed with it.  

“You didn’t think this book existed, did you?” she accused her.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyclonis said, reaching across the table to take the book.  She slapped her hand on top of it, preventing her from claiming it.

“Who asked you to read this book?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you asked for my help.  Who told you about this book, Lark?” she asked, hoping to goad her into answering the question.

“That’s not going to work,” she said, seeing through her tactic.

“Fine.  I guess I’ll take this back to the library, then.”

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because I burned an entire afternoon getting a history lesson from an overzealous librarian about this book and then even more time reading it.  And now I’m curious who would be daring enough to recommend it to you.”

The look Cyclonis gave the book this time was less ‘seeing a ghost’ and more ‘confronting a Saharran spitting viper.’

“Is it that bad?”

“Answer my question and find out for yourself.”

Cyclonis still wasn’t forthcoming with an answer, and she was just about to shove the book back into her bag when the other girl’s shoulders slumped as she sighed.  “My father.”

That was not the answer she had been expecting.  

“Weren’t you really young when he died?”

“Yes.”

“You can remember stuff from that long ago?”

“Bits and pieces.  And I had a very vivid dream while I was sick.  I wasn’t sure if it was just a dream or a memory.”

“And now that you know this book is real, you think it was a memory.”

Cyclonis seemed reluctant to answer but finally said, “Yes.”

“It doesn’t sound like it was a very happy one,” she said sympathetically.  Cyclonis shrugged, but she could tell from her expression that she was right.  If this book played a key role in it, she wasn’t surprised.  While the author didn't demonize the Cyclonian Empire, per se, he didn’t pull his punches when it came to criticizing it when it was deserved, or its ruling family.  She couldn’t understand why Cyclonis’ father would recommend this book to anyone, least of all his daughter and heir.  

“You said before that you had no idea who wrote this book.  You sure about that?”

“Canton Scylla,” Cyclonis answered, reading the name inscribed on the cover.

“That wasn’t his real name.”

Cyclonis didn’t look surprised, which she found suspicious.  She knew, or at least suspected, more than she was letting on.

She pulled the other book out of her bag, setting it atop The Great Myth before passing both books over to Cyclonis.  “You should read the top book first.  It offers up some interesting theories about who Canton was.  And I think you’ll get more out of it if you know who wrote it first.”

~*~*~

Cyclonis didn’t read the first book so much as skim it.  She already knew what she was looking for: proof for or against The Great Myth being written by an ancestor.  

It didn’t take long to find it.  Altan Cyclonis.  She didn’t bother trying to deny the theory to herself.  It made too much sense.  She remembered her private history lessons.  The ones taught not by her tutors but by her grandmother.  She recognized the name.  He was her many times great-granduncle from the time of the dissolution of the original Cyclonian Empire.  And the family’s greatest disgrace.  

He had been jealous of his older brother’s ascension to the throne but too weak-willed to usurp his power.  And so he had betrayed the family in the worst way possible.  He had defected to the Free Atmos.  Even there, he failed to become anyone of note and died in penniless obscurity.

Her grandmother hadn’t mentioned him writing a book.  Given the memories she had uncovered, she wasn’t surprised.  She wondered what else her grandmother had failed to mention about him or outright lied about.  

With much trepidation, she opened The Great Myth to the first page.

[feferipeixes]

I posted 1,284 times in 2022

129 posts created (10%)

1,155 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@haberdashing

@tazmiilly

@youarentreadingthis

@heibon-hiroo

@feferipeixes

I tagged 1,199 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#mother 3 - 228 posts

#shuuenpro - 201 posts

#lucas - 175 posts

#gravity falls - 124 posts

#puella magi madoka magica - 106 posts

#lol - 99 posts

#dipper pines - 90 posts

#pokemon - 82 posts

#claus - 81 posts

#c-ta - 68 posts

Longest Tag: 108 characters

#marina's first two albums plus her unreleased old stuff were so fundamental to me in high school and college

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

You don’t know when it happened, but at some point, you forgot to continue being human.

Your sister is waving at you from across the room. A blink, and now she’s standing over you, snapping to break you out of your thousand-yard stare. There’s a pounding in your head -- in the walls, in the air, in the thoughts and feelings of everyone in the house. You shake your head before giving her a toothy smile.

“Sure, I can <do the dishes> <fix the sink> <unclog the toilet>. For a price.”

It started as a joke, but now it feels too good to give up. It’s a thrill, and she doesn’t mind. She knows what you are now. Maybe even better than you do. Because while you’re sitting there pretending, she’s putting on a brave face for the both of you.

There comes a day when you stop getting up to do the dishes by hand. There comes a day when you simply snap your fingers, and the sink is fixed. You can’t be bothered to get the toilet plunger out when she asks, because that kind of stuff isn’t as fun as it used to be. Now your interests lie in something bigger.

It crawls across your consciousness like a bug ready to be squashed. There are people out there calling your name, and for some reason you want to answer. It’s easy to get lost in the crowd of voices because they’re all saying the same thing: we need you, you’re important, you can do things that we can’t -- and it’s incredible because it’s true. You’ve always been like this, right? More powerful. More important. Bigger.

She can see this happening, and she says she doesn’t mind, but when your laughter dies out one beat faster than hers, when you forget for a minute how to hold a dinner knife, when you’re late for your shared birthday party, it lingers. The thought that’s been growing ever since that fateful day in August.

Any day now, the human blood in you will run stale, and the scariest thing is that you won’t even notice.

239 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

#4

girl help my ovaries are so big and active and i’m being chosen by the hive to ascend to queenhood

241 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#3

It's 5am, I'm tired, I saw the manscaped ad with the razor being held against two tennis balls and I thought it was a gun. Just thought this guy was holding up a gun to his tennis balls. As if to say, "is your sack too hairy? Fucking obliterate it." I'm getting an orchiectomy at the local crate & barrel. I'm performing MMA on my massive nuts in public. I'm transitioning because the thought of shaving down there is too much. Tumblr if you don't let me blaze this post you're cowards

308 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

#2

RB this immediately if you think Shrek should ascend to heaven. every second you wait inflicts more stigmata wounds on his onion flesh

324 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

oh? Oh hi mutual. Havent seen you in a couple of days *slams drink down on the counter* no. no its fine that you reblogged that picture of SpongeBob ice skating into some electric wires from someone else. I mean I did reblog it specifically bc I thought youd relate to its juxtaposition of childlike freedom with the harsh realities of a postindustrial world. And i i thought maybe we'd bond over that at a little coffee shop, maybe split a cheese danish, and ill dry your tears when you tell me again how your boyfriend was in the studio audience the day that nickelodeon tested out a new SlimeTM recipe and youll always hear his screams in your nightmares. That sort of thing. But it's fine. Doesn't bother me at all that you're better friends with this other pastel goth bitch blog who tf cares. Im gonna go download clippy the Microsoft Office assistant and torture him by asking him questions he is too outdated to understand. Later dude hope you unfollow everyone except me

5,908 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

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