#tempted to play it but also wait until chapter 3 is fully out

[quakiebaka]

TOONTOWNRONPA *crashing* INTERMISSION *babies crying* 2-3 *sirens* COMPLETED

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader 

Chapter 4 - Bound by Fate 

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Summary: You travel to US to meet The Protagonist. There you learn that you have much bigger part to play than expected...

Warnings: None.

Author’s Notes: 4k, ladies and gentlemen! Sorry! Thank you for all the kind words and as usual welcome all the feedback. Enjoy!

When Neil said that he intended to jump on the plane to the US soon he meant it. Friday afternoon you found yourself aboard an 8-hour-long flight to Boston with seats in business class. While going to see the Tenet’s founder in person was bound to be a good excuse for missing the training, you did worry about being behind. As soon as the plane has reached cruising altitude, you took out the notes with serious intent to focus on them. You also wanted to avoid sharing an awkward silence with Neil. But it was not meant to be.

“Are you going to study now?” he asked, peering incredulously over your shoulder. 

“And why shouldn’t I? Got eight hours to spare” you sent him a glare and looked back at the pages.

“Well we could always talk…” he spoke up after a brief silence and you eyed him suspiciously.

That was tempting, you had to admit. You have barely spoken to each other since the day he came back, except for the conversations about the details of the trip. Yet after everything that happened you were grateful for that. But now, with stress about the upcoming meeting rising exponentially and tiredness gnawing at your brain, maybe it was time to change it. Before you could answer, you were interrupted by the smiley stewardess passing through:

“Drinks? Snacks?”

You immediately turned to Neil, glaring at him with a clear message: don’t you dare. But he only smirked at you and answered the flight attendant:

“Vodka tonic and whiskey coke. Thanks” your murderous frown had no effect on him.

You resorted to staring at the little flight map on your screen until the drinks have been served. Once the stewardess has moved along you went back to shooting daggers at Neil:

“What? Are you not a whiskey coke kind of person?” he asked with that innocent smile.

“I am” you admitted, and he grinned in response “But are we even allowed to drink on the job?”

“Technically we’re not on the job. Yet” he took a sip of the drink nonchalantly and you took the liberty to observe him.

Once again he has ditched the suit jacket and wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You had to admit that it did look good on him. His hair was in perfect state of dishevelment and you briefly considered brushing it away from his eyes. But his intense stare stopped any intent you could have had. 

“I never asked how you’re settling in” he spoke after a beat, looking at you with genuine interest.

“Well it’s not your fault I decided to get a whiplash that day” you joked and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “I’m managing. Like I said at the party, it’s difficult to understand and inversion is tricky but it’s so fascinating” the sparks in his eyes urged you to continue “When I finished uni I never thought I could have a chance to work for an organisation like Tenet. The best I wished for was the UK Government” you grimaced at the idea “Still no clue what the nuclear fission is though” you added and reached for the drink.

“The offer to help with physics still stands you know” Neil was looking at you with a gleam in his eye.

“And I’ll surely consider it” you winked, feeling glad you’ve ditched those notes.

“What’s your favourite part of the training?” he has turned in his seat so that he was facing you.

“Probably guns”

“Good choice” he sent you an impressed smirk.

“Well maybe not the inverted rounds, but all the different types of arms and artillery are fun to play with” you elaborated with a gleeful enthusiasm.

Neil smiled at the sight.

“My sources tell me your good at shooting too” he added after a short break, eyeing you with interest.

“I’m not a rookie” you shrugged “And apparently have a good eye as well” you held his gaze, feeling a boost of courage “Maybe one day I’ll show you”

Neil stared back at you with a slight shock on his face. He recovered quick enough to retort:

“Can’t wait” he smirked, and you looked down suddenly aware of what you said.

Can always blame it on the alcohol, you thought while staring at your lap. But before you could overthink it, Neil reached out and tipped your chin so that you met his gaze. He was smiling at you, but this time it was not a cocky grin. He searched your eyes for a short moment, making sure you were fine before dropping away his hand. You stared back puzzled, but before you could think about it too long, he asked:

“So it’s fair to assume that you don’t hate me for introducing you to this madness?”

“Could never” you laughed, and he grinned back “Even though I must admit I became quite a loner because of it. It’s hard to have friends when you train at a secret spy agency”

“There’s always me” he shrugged.

“I can’t say I know you” you replied truthfully and took a moment to stare at his face.

He nodded, accepting your statement and then smirked. You watched, wide-eyed, as he undid the top button on his shirt and leaned into the seat. If he noticed your silent panic, he did not show it.

“What do you want to know?” there was something almost challenging in his gaze.

You took a moment to recover before thinking hard about what to ask. You knew that this was potentially a one-off chance to learn something about him.

“How long have you been doing this?” you gestured vaguely.

Neil frowned, thinking hard and you focused on the face he made.

“Four years, I think” he ruffled his hair again “Thinking in linear terms is difficult after all those inversions” he added with a little smile “I’ve been recruited by the TP while still at my old job”

“What were you doing before?” 

“I’ve been in the Navy” you stared at him surprised “Turns out they are willing to take in lost Physics students”.

He noticed your dazed look and grinned:

“What? You thought I was an ex-MI6 agent or something?” he cocked his eyebrow. 

“Well you could definitely be a James Bond” you muttered and ignored the smug smile you got in return.

“I met TP one day while on the field mission in Asia and we cooperated very well so at the end he asked me to join Tenet. Naturally I said yes” he explained, and you nodded “You don’t turn away an offer like that. You know that best” you exchanged a smile “Has that satisfied your curiosity?” he finished the drink and turned to look at you expectantly.

“A bit” you admitted.

Before you could say anything more you yawned widely and then looked at Neil sheepishly.

“Shit, sorry. Swear am not that tired” 

He laughed, looking at you softly:

“Maybe my life story was that boring”

“Certainly not” another yawn and you covered your face with your hands.

“You can sleep, we still have six hours to go” he reassured you.

You felt very tired. All those hours of training and the stress made you feel worn out. So you decided to give in, letting your head lean on the headrest and reclined the back of the seat. 

“Wake me up for food” you joked and closed your eyes, feeling Neil chuckle next to you.

Slowly you felt yourself drift off to sleep, hoping your dreams won’t make you regret the decision when you wake up.

*** First thing you noticed after waking up was that you no longer had the leather head rest acting as your pillow. Instead it was something warmer and firmer. You could smell intense cologne and that revelation made your eyes widen. Somehow in the sleep you have moved so that your head was resting on Neil’s shoulder. And judging by his small smirk he was fully aware of that and did nothing. Quickly you straightened and looked at him shyly. He grinned and said:

“Don’t worry, they haven’t served the food yet”

“Great” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You opened the notes again and forced your brain to focus on the nuclear fission. You felt Neil’s gaze on you and fought hard to ignore it.  

God, this is going to be a long journey…

*** You managed to avoid further humiliation by focusing on studying during the rest of the flight. Neil has even contributed with a couple of explanations. Hearing him talk about the atoms and electrons with passion made you want to ask him about the topic again. 

Once you landed in Boston, he practically dragged you through the customs and the arrivals hall. You stopped outside by the taxi stop and you finally caught your breath:

“We’re getting a taxi?” you looked sceptically at the forming queue.

Neil finished typing a message and glanced at you:

“Do you think we’re on a budget cut?” you laughed at his affronted expression.

“Judging by your suit…” you eyed him quickly “Most certainly not”

“You like my suits?” the hint of the sly grin started to form on his lips.

You were saved from answering by a black Tesla stopping in front of you. Neil opened the door and gestured for you to get in. 

“Got to admit that this organisation has a good taste in cars” you noticed.

“Maybe one day you’ll get one those” Neil winked, and you grinned back.

You watched through the window as the the city sights passed by, curious about Boston. You were headed to the outskirts of the city, judging by the signs on the highway. After a short silence, you asked Neil:

“So… the Protagonist. What is he like?”

“He’s...” he took a moment to think and you observed him with interest “Fun” his face lit up “Charismatic. And very mysterious but not in an intimidating kind of way”

“You’re close with him?”

You liked the happy smile that showed on his face.

“You could say so. When he hired me, Tenet was only starting out and it was mostly us two on the missions” he recollected with fond look “These days he rarely goes into the field but if he does, it’s usually with me”

“A dream team” you grinned, and he chuckled.

Suddenly the car stopped, and you looked through the window at the building exactly in front.

“Welcome to the Tenet Headquarters” Neil grinned at you widely as he opened the door.

You got out of the car and stared at the tall glass building with a large parking area and a tall fence. Following Neil, you showed your ID to the security camera and walked through the sliding door. Interior was very like what you were used to in London, but more modern. As soon as you entered, a tall man in a suit approached you:

“Welcome back Neil!” they exchanged a handshake “And it’s nice to meet you” he turned to you and you accepted his hand “I’m Richard”.

“Y/N” you smiled.

“TP wants to see you now” Richard spoke to Neil “And he’ll talk to you both later during dinner” he explained.

“That’s good news as you can continue that nap” Neil glanced at you and you glared.

“Very funny” you muttered and chose to ignore the curious look Richard gave you both.

“I’ll show you your room now” the agent broke the awkward silence.

“Okay” you moved to follow him with your duffel bag thrown over the shoulder.

As you passed Neil, he swiftly squeezed your hand and then disappeared into on the side corridors. You briefly wondered why that became a goodbye gesture between you.

Not that you did mind.

*** You never got to have that nap. While the room Richard lead you to was very like what you were used to in London, your brain was too hyperactive to let you rest. Every time you shut your eyes, you kept thinking about the upcoming meeting and all the what ifs. Finally you gave up with thirty minutes left till the dinner and got ready. When Neil knocked on your door, you leaped out of the room, fuelled by anxiety.

“Everything alright?” he asked once he saw your wild gaze.

“Yeah, I’m just scared, that’s all” you admitted and looked at him pleadingly “Can we please get going before I change my mind?”

He eyed you carefully, making sure you were indeed ‘okay’ before pointing the direction of TP’s quarters.

“There’s no reason to be scared” Neil said after few minutes of tense silence “He’s probably the nicest person here” he looked at you with a reassuring smile.

“Nicer than you?” you looked at him sceptically.

Being this anxious meant that you no longer cared much about what you said. In this case your voiced thought was awarded with a sly grin from Neil.

“Oh you think I’m nice?” he winked, and you laughed despite the tension.

“I’m not so sure anymore…” you sent him a fake glare.

“You can think about it again after the meeting” he replied and gestured towards the door to your left “Here we are”.

You stared at the door, fighting the fleeing instinct. As though Neil knew you can run away any second, he took your hand in his and knocked on the door. Approximately five seconds later the door opened to reveal a smiling man in a suit. He exchanged a happy grin with Neil and then looked at you with interest. When his eyes darted to your linked hands, you felt your face heat up and was surprised to see him smirk knowingly. Before you could overthink it, TP broke the silence:

“Come on in” he smiled at you.

You had the strange feeling that he was looking at someone he knew very well. You ignored the spike of anxiety, let go of Neil’s hand and followed the Protagonist. His quarters had a separate private bedroom, a briefing room and a living area with a large table, set for dinner. When you all sat down, Tenet’s founder addressed you:

“First of all, I want to say I’m excited to finally meet you” he smiled at you warmly and you beamed back.

“Didn’t know I’m that important” you admitted and was surprised to him amused “But I’m glad I can be here”

“You probably have a lot of questions” you just nodded “But I thought it’s best we eat first. Is that okay?”

“Sure”

Once the food has been served by the cooks from the mess hall, the conversation has changed onto more mundane topics.

“So, what were you doing before Tenet?” the Protagonist asked you.

“I actually finished university not that long ago” you answered “I graduated two years ago and since then only did some part time jobs” 

Neil was looking at you across the table with a surprised expression. You tried to search his face for answers, but he schooled his features before you came to any conclusions. After conversations about your past and how you were getting on with the training, you have all cleared the plates. Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a mysterious look before the second one spoke:

“As you know by now from your training, I have knowledge about things that haven’t happened yet…” he started, almost tentatively.

“You mean that you came from the future? To set up Tenet?” you blurted out and got met with slightly worried looks “Because that’s what everyone says among the recruits” you explained, shrugging.

When you first heard this rumour passed around by the younger agents you did not pay it much attention. But after seeing more of what Tenet was capable of you were not so sure anymore. Looking at Neil and TP right now, you knew that all the stories were true.

“That’s probably a more straightforward way of putting it” the Protagonist joked “I’ve founded Tenet to prevent world ending catastrophes involving the technology of inversion. That’s the part you already know. There’s another reason why the organisation has been founded though”

You stared as he purposefully made a dramatic pause. Glancing at Neil, you noticed that he was studying you with a rather serious expression. You got the feeling that what was about to be said, was not common knowledge.

“In the future there will be an attempt an attempt to reverse the entropy of the whole world” your eyes widened in shock.

Even with your poor grasp of physics it sounded like a catastrophe.

“For this purpose something called The Algorithm will be created and constructed. It’s a formula in a physical form, broken into nine parts so that it is not so easily found and assembled. But now the different parts of it are beginning to resurface in this timeline. Our job is to stop it from being used in the recent future” the Protagonist explained, as though he was repeating a manual for the hob.

You felt the panic rise again. All this information was too much to take in.

“What does it have to do with me?” you asked, unable to wait much longer.

The serious look in Neil’s eyes did not help you either.

“TP thinks you have a part to play in stopping the Algorithm from being used” he explained while looking at you almost apologetically “So he’s sending us on a mission to investigate some intel on one of the parts being a subject of trade in New York”

“But why me?” you frowned.

It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that” the Protagonist apologised with a sad smile “It wouldn’t do you any good to know this early”

You looked at Neil, hoping to find some answers. But he seemed as lost as you were. You had a feeling that only TP knew the full story and he decided who was to be let in on it.

“You will leave on the mission in two days. Until then you can prepare here, and I’ll brief you both tomorrow” he added, and you could only nod “Finally, the last thing you need to know is that everything that was said today is between us three. Is that alright?”

“Of course” you got up, desperately wanting to get some rest “Neil is the only person I talk to anyway” you shrugged and received a knowing glance from TP again.

What even…

“Sorry, I’m very tired. Is it alright if we come back to it tomorrow?” you asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Yeah sure, you need a rest” TP patted your arm reassuringly “No need to be worried though, you’ll have Neil with you. And I know he’ll take care of you” there was something way too certain in his voice.

You looked at Neil, but he pretended to study a dossier, with tension radiating from his form. You wanted answers but could not even voice the questions.

*** After the meeting finished, you both left TP’s quarters in silence. You were scared and dreamt of nothing but locking yourself away in your room. But Neil had other ideas. As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he took your hand in his and started leading you with purpose in his stride. You didn’t even protest. At this point you resorted to following him without questions.

He lead you to the staircase and then upstairs, to what was indicated as an evacuation route. You tried to search his face for any clues, but it was pointless. Finally he stopped in front of heavy metal doors at the top of the stairwell and opened it for you. You stepped into an expansive terrace overlooking the city and the neighbouring areas, with the stairs to the helicopter pad. The night has fallen on Boston and the view was illuminated with thousands of lights. You took in the sight with parted lips, not expecting to see anything like that on this dramatic night. Neil was leaning on the railing, looking at you with a small smile:

“Do you show this place to all the girls?” you asked him, while slowly approaching the balustrade.

“What girls?” he looked genuinely confused and you laughed at the face he made.

“Oh you know, like Anna…” you gestured vaguely at the lines of women that were waiting on his every word.

“What? No!” he finally caught on what you were asking and scrunched his face in offence “Anna is cute but she’s not… no”

What was he trying to say? But he turned towards the view and clenched his jaw. You stared at him for a while before resigning to look at the cityscape as well. Every now and then you would steal a glance at Neil, only to see him staring into the darkness. This was not what you were used to from him. When the tense silence dragged on for too long, you decided to act.

“Neil is everything alright?” you stepped closer to him “You’re awfully quiet” you noticed.

He turned his head to look at you with a small smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You miss my voice already?”

“Stop it” impulsively you reached out and touched his hand that was clutching the railing.

He looked up at you with a slight surprise. Now that you made the move, you felt less scared. You gently rubbed a thumb over his hand and tried again:

“What’s wrong? Because if it’s my poor jokes about Anna and stuff, then sorry-”

“No” he cut you off with a smile “It’s not you. It’s just that all this talk about The Algorithm and world ending… it’s a lot sometimes” you nodded “And today when TP told me that you’ve got a role to play in it too…” he inhaled sharply “I…”

You looked at him intrigued and worried at the same time. You were not used to Neil speaking in broken sentences.

“What?” you prodded, letting your hand trace an invisible line up his forearm.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression before relaxing his hold on the balustrade. You were surprised to see that there were goosebumps on his arm where you have touched it.

“I hoped that you won’t have to be involved in this” he sighed “Maybe it’s foolish for someone who’s worked at Tenet for four years, but I wanted you to be safe from all this Algorithm related bullshit” he met your gaze with defeat.

You stared back at him, confused.

“Why?” your voice came out quiet and hoarse.

He shrugged helplessly, with an expression of sadness in his eyes. That alone made you forego any sense of awkwardness or fear. You closed the gap between you, embracing him tightly. After a second of hesitation you felt him return the embrace. He exhaled shakily and you allowed yourself to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Your heart was hammering in your chest, finally catching up with what was happening. Inhaling his scent, you forced yourself to calm down. You felt his hand caress the nape of you neck, making all the thoughts disappear from your head. You were frozen in place for what felt like hours before Neil relaxed his grip and took a step back. You met his gaze with an unspoken question and he just nodded, composing himself. Then he studied your face for a beat, before finally breaking the silence:

“I’m sorry”

You knew he meant everything by that: the news, the plan, his outburst.

“It’s okay” you smiled at him reassuringly and placed you hand on his shoulder “Happens to the best of us” you smoothed his wrinkled shirt collar.

He stared at you with astonishment that made your face heat up. Then he smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the exit from the terrace:

“Want to call it a night?” he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Sure” you smiled back and followed him back to the stairwell.

Somehow this night felt important. And not just because of what you learned.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

His Dark Materials S2 Ep 6 - Rambling/Thoughts

I really cannot believe that we’re at the penultimate episode already, oh my gosh. It’s gone by so fast??

Again, because I’ve reread TSK in the last couple of weeks, the book is fresh in my mind but I’ve probably still missed stuff

Also last week was so intense and seeing the “previously on” section made me remember just how intense that was, so it’s a hard job to top that!

ANGELS AHH RIGHT AWAY IM GEEKING OUT

“The last time they were seen was to make war” - IT’S HAPPENING ASDFGHJKL

Ruta going off to see Asriel and me just remembering what exactly went down between them while she was there with him... heh

So Will’s hand looks AWFUL oh my god poor Will 😭

Pan is REALLY into his Red PAN-da form oh my goodness

So the other kids out for revenge terrified the living SHIT out of me, dear god I don’t think it could be any creepier than dozens of them appearing out of the shadows like that, like it’s genuinely terrifying

Serafina just dropped right in to rescue them and I was both relieved and a little disappointed? Because in the book the whole chase sequence is so much longer and more important, like it takes up most of an entire chapter I think, and here it’s like two minutes?

Serafina: What does this edge cut? // Lyra: Everything (Will at the same time: Nothing.) - 😂

I missed Lee and Jopari tbh so yay to seeing them once more! And they’ve crossed into the next world!

Oh hi again Mary!

^ I wasn’t expecting to see Mary again this series because in TSK book, her last appearance is going through the window (which was last episode), so I’m a little curious as to whether we’re going to get a TINY little peek into The Amber Spyglass here (it’s been years since I reread it, I apologize). Because last series they did a bit of TSK (namely introducing Will + him crossing into Cittagazze), so it would be interesting!

“Good, something I can understand for a change” - LOL Same

Serafina wants to take Lyra back to her world?? Really??

Not gonna lie, the two girls spying on Mary was kind of low-key creepy

Lyra mentioning that she crossed worlds to find out about Dust and mentioning Roger 😭

Also I’m so emotional over just how much she wants Will to be safe, like she would really do anything to keep him safe and I love it

Lyra asking the Alethiometer where Will’s dad is and “he’s in this world” - ahhh it’s going to happen!

Also I really hope that the BBC/whoever decides to sell replica Alethiometers because the design is so beautiful?! I would fork out serious dough for one, and it would go nicely with the one I have from the film

No but seriously, words don’t describe just how badly I want a replica

“I wanted to fly so I summoned you here, now I’m flying” - LOL OKAY THEN JOHN

Ooh damn, that outfit Marisa is wearing is FINE. I’m slightly gayer than I was before, ngl

I was like “nooo Mary don’t be nice to these kids, they’re awful”

But it’s very sweet that she offers them food?? Like she pulls a chocolate bar out and is like “it’s no good for you, it’s full of sugar”... I love her

The way that Mary was so happy and excited when they mentioned Lyra, only to tell the girls off for trying to kill her - more of a mum than Mrs Coulter tbh

“Miss, can I have a hug?” - AWWW OMG WHY AM I SAD

They asked Mary to stay and look after them omg 😭😭😭

“Come with me, I’ll bring you to your adults” - ooh okay this could go any number of ways... Either she actually reunites them with their families and all’s well, or she takes them up there and their parents/adults are all dead (for lack of a better word)? Or the Spectres attack after Mary leaves them with the adults??

Jopari talking about meeting his dæmon and also a little bit about trying to get back to his family :(

“Can you magic us up a fire?” “One moment” *presents a box of matches” - LMFAO

Wait did Serafina seriously just imply that she thought Will might hurt Lyra?!?

Serafina saying that if protecting Lyra means protecting Will as well... Yes, protect Will please! Protect BOTH of these children, I literally BEG you, they’ve gone through far too much

Ooh okay so the witch ritual/spell was kind of cool to see!

Lyra saying “please tell me he’ll be alright” 😭♥️

The fact that Lyra curled up close to Will and then Pan (in ermine form) curled up CLOSER to Will is so cute, they both love Will so much

Pan: “We feel safe her... don’t we?” / OOF OKAY THIS IS F I N E

I already know what Lyra’s “other name” is because I read the book but the hints are anything BUT subtle tbh. “Mother of us all, cause of all sin, tempted by the serpent”... I’m not even that religious but I think it’s pretty obvious.

Also, if Mary is playing the part of the “serpent” within Lyra’s destiny, does that mean that Mary has tempted Lyra? Or that she will?

Boreal being nervous about being in the city and Marisa is just so unimpressed by him... Mood

That smirk she had when going up to that Spectre victim was so chilling, we have to stan Ruth Wilson and her incredible acting

Also, fun fact, Ruth Wilson went to my sixth form college and is from Surrey (like me), and she grew up in Shepperton, which is where my Nan used to live when she was alive (my uncle and aunt live there still), so that’s super exciting!

“We could learn from this” - PLEASE DO NOT MA’AM

God I hate the Magisterium so fucking much, the patriarchy is so strong with them

Oh great, now they’re gunning to kill Lyra :/

Also, off topic, I’ve only just connected that Will Keen, who plays Father MacPhail, is Dafne Keen’s dad?!?

“She’s lost a lot for one so young” - AND SHE’S STILL GOING TO LOSE PEOPLE, WHY IS THIS FAIR PHILIP PULLMAN 😭

“She must be protected” - AGAIN, they BOTH need protecting PLEASE

The Spectre noises reminded me of the noises of the Smoke Monster from LOST, so that’s definitely trippy for me

Thanks, I hate it

I nearly shouted “WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING” out loud in front of both my parents, I seriously thought she had a damn death wish

I have never been so damn tense in my entire life as I am watching this show - and I KNOW what happens

HOW DID SHE DO THAT WITH THE SPECTRES SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN

Lee’s so worried about Lyra - 11/10, Father of the Year

The Magisterium airships... NO. FUCK. WE’RE AT THAT POINT ALREADY AND IM NOT OKAY BECAUSE I KNOW HOW AND WHERE THIS ENDS AND I HATE IT

I deadass thought Marisa and Carlo were about to kiss when he ran up to her and I actually said out loud “NO please don’t”

Look I must just be so dirty minded but when she said “let’s celebrate”, my immediate reaction was “NO NO NO NO EW EW EW NO” and “I hope she just means having a drink and not doing the frickety-frack”

I was so close to tearing up as Will was talking about his mum, her illness, and the boys who were mean to her because of it. His love for his mum is so beautifully written and the way Amir Wilson is playing Will is so wonderful

I was also close to tears when he was talking about his dad and how he used to imagine about his dad, so maybe I’m just emotional anyway

“Could go to school... have friends” - okay yeah no I’m definitely crying 😭

“I couldn’t trust anyone.” “Until you met me.” “Yeah.” - EXCUSE ME ♥️😭 my HEART

I love one (1) soft boy, and one (1) feral girl and her dæmon

The relief I felt when I saw Marisa and Carlo were literally just having drinks 😅

“They consume what makes us human, so I just suppressed that and hid it” + *cut to the monkey looking kinda sad/uncomfortable* - Umm fUCK OKAY THEN

Why am I feeling sorry for the monkey?!?

“You think we’re equal?” - LMFAO RIGHT

EWW THEY KISSED. No, just... nO

When I saw his snake dæmon moving towards her monkey, I thought one of two things was about to happen: 1) the monkey was going to pet and paw and the snake as Marisa seduced Boreal, or 3) the monkey was going to strange the snake and kill Boreal

OKAY THIS TOOK A SHARP BUT NOT UNWELCOMED TURN

“You’ve NEVER been my equal.” “You’d only hold me back.” - OH MY GOD YES THE SHADE

She’s not wrong though let’s be honest here

So she poisoned him I’m assuming? She poisoned his drink because the monkey didn’t actually touch the snake... damn.

Her just sitting there and continuing to drink with his dead body there is... damn.

“Into that valley” NO NO, please no

Jopari really just summoned a whole damn storm huh

Also the fact he fully trusts in Lee’s abilities to land them safely :3

Lee: “Can we trust him?” // Hester: “Do we have another choice?!!” - LMFAO I love them so much

THE WAY I NEARLY SCREAMED WHEN THAT WITCH GOT ATTACKED BY A SPECTRE OMFG AT LEAST WILL WAS THERE TO SAVE HER

Okay but did Marisa REALLY sit there for HOURS with Boreal’s corpse sitting opposite her?!?

Her burning her hand on the flame in front of the monkey, and the monkey clearly whimpering and in pain was so agonizing to watch, I can’t take this show

Also, you have to wonder just how many times she’s harmed herself (and him) for her to keep doing it with next to no problems (like separating from each other all the time)

I was so excited to see the birds attacking the zeppelins, like it was one of my favourite details in the book, and I worried that they wouldn’t have the budget for it but yay!

I do kind of wish that we’d had Sayan Kötor as the “eagle Queen” leading them though - she probably was but I wish we’d actually seen it or heard Jopari say it or whatever

THEY SHOT THE GAS CANNISTER OH SHIT THEY’RE GOING DOWN HARD AND FAST IN THAT BALLOON

HOLD ON BBC YOU CANNOT END THIS THERE?!? EXCUSE ME?!

The last episode is next week and on an hour earlier, so that’s exciting! I have no idea what I’ll do once this series ends, or when we’ll even get the third and final series because of COVID and filming delays, but I’m excited for it nonetheless and hoping it’s next November/December or something!

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Business (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they’re the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

Warnings: angst, strong language, illustrative descriptions of situations full of violence and brutality, might cause distress

Rating: Mature

Author’s note:  I’m not a native English speaker, I’m sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

It's been a month or so since I've posted the previous chapter. From what I remember, we've ended the last part on Kamilah and Amy having an intimate moment. At one point, the girl got second thoughts and left Kamilah's penthouse.

So, here we are, in chapter 4th, right after the situation. I hope you'll enjoy the continuation of the story 💕  

Also, I'd like to thank Anons that have been asking me about the fic, and @saratustra4 for asking me about the next chapter 💕 For some reason, it helped me come back to the writing. Also, if I fail my study because of that, I know who to blame hahah *kidding* 😂😂

~2300 words

----------------------

Chapter 4

"Fuck..."

Harsh tone flew all the way to smooth surface of the car window, hitting it hard, only to bounce off the reflection of green eyes trapped inside.

Amy brushed stubborn hair away from her blushing face. Blonde strands left marks behind as if they had burned her skin permanently. Her lips were red and hot after the kiss she had shared only a few moments before.

The kiss to which she agreed so foolishly.

What were you thinking, she cursed herself in thoughts, letting anger rage inside her veins. She was slowly losing control over her body as a small spark dared to shine inside her irises.

The girl closed her eyes, leaning against something that felt like a block of ice, rather than her car. Coldness reached nerves under her skin, easing the tension, helping collect thoughts on what she should do next.

Because it didn't seem like fate was on her side that day. Amy forgot to grab her purse from the dresser at Kamilah's penthouse, so she didn't have keys to her car and phone to call for a lift.

But most of all,

she had no courage to come back and face the woman.

What if she suspected anything? Question screamed inside her mind, forcing her to move away from the car. Fear pulled her closer into the embrace of a much greater danger, fooling her judgement.

It tricked her mind enough to make her forget about the threat waiting in the darkness.

***

New York City was resting after a full day of events. It was then that Amy found herself alone in the street, left in the company of her loud thoughts.

The girl considered asking someone for help, but the idea seemed almost equally risky as walking on her own at this hour. It would only call unnecessary attention, not mentioning what could happen if she came across people who wished harm to her family.

Being one of the Paines had its consequences.

Amy moved toward the dark alley. She finally got out of the sight of warm light peeking outside from apartments. It seemed to watch her every move, trying to hunt her down at all costs.

One of the girl's hands moved to her mouth. Fingers subtly traced over her lower lip as to remind themselves of the previous desire. The desire that made Amy feel things she never expected to experience.

Not when it went to vampires.

Her body should have reacted differently. It shouldn't have let her fall for tricks of these beasts. She was supposed to be better than that. Too smart to get fooled by their attractiveness. Too powerful to get fed with their poisonous words.

So what happened this time? What made her give in to Kamilah's touch? What was responsible for this feeling inside, this...

Suddenly Amy heard a noise coming from behind. The urge to turn around and follow the sound was tempting, but she managed to fight it. She had been through the training before, so she knew the most important rule.

Never rely on your sight.

The girl closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling overwhelming her body. Listening to her accelerated heartbeat, accompanied by the growing tension in her muscles as her body sensed attackers.

They were passing through the alley like a shadow desperately seeking for the opportunity to escape the moonlight. To finally creep up on both sides, cutting off only ways of escape. It was too late, and at once, too soon to react, so Amy stood in place patiently, preparing herself for what was to come.

"Who do we have here?" shudders travelled down her spine.

As soon as the voice pierced through her ears, all of the colours vanished from the world around. Values of the surroundings became muted as if they were just a useless distraction for her eyes. Instead, everything took the tones of grey, leaving the earth on its own in the fight between light and darkness.

"She looks familiar, huh?" her eyes moved, following the second voice.

Only to catch a spark of crimson in the man's stare. No one else but vampires could make her body react this way. Their presence heightened her senses, changing them into something inhuman.

The girl raised her hands, showing an act of surrender. She needed to buy herself more time because they still didn't come close enough.

The adrenaline was not high enough.

"Look, guys, I am not looking for trouble," calm tone of her voice hid fear growing inside her chest.

But both men ignored her words, continuing getting closer. It was clear that they didn't realize how big of a mistake it was. Because with each of their step, she was getting better access to thoughts inside their heads.

"Oh, I got this," the one behind her spoke again. "Blonde hair, sweet voice, and even sweeter smell of blood. It must be Paine's daughter."

"I guess we found her without company," the one in front of her tilted his head slightly. "Our master will be so pleased to meet you."

Amy turned her body to the side enough to have a clear view of both of them.

"One more step," the girl growled, feeling every muscle in her body tense.

But it only made them more amused.

"Uuu, I feel threatened," a sarcastic tone challenged her nerves.

It came from the one on her right, a total blabbermouth. Amy squinted her eyes and gazed into his, spotting this characteristic glow inside them, a remnant of humanity. That was a clue to recognize a newly turned vampire.

"You should be," a tiny smile danced in the corner of her mouth.

She turned away from him, focusing all her attention on his friend instead.

And the game began.

Sounds of vampires' talk faded away into the darkness, blending with shadows. As the world around her calmed down significantly, moving in slow motion from then on. The wind on her shoulder became barely noticeable as coldness lost all its intensity in the air. Amy's heartbeat was steady and loud, drumming inside her head, not giving peace. Her blood seemed to stop running inside her veins, replaced by the adrenaline instead.

The same adrenaline that made her green eyes shine with gold, creating a bridge of connection between her and the man. Giving her a sense of his principal thoughts. How badly he wanted to..., kidnap her.

Her mind raced on the wires of his thoughts as she slowly lost herself in the labyrinth of memories. But she stayed there, travelling through his life until she reached the part with his weaknesses. Amy grabbed them with her mind, ready to manipulate his fears. There was only a hint of hesitation before she twisted the most painful memory inside his head, playing with it like a toy.

Until he had no other choice left, but to surrender.

His stare lacked previous confidence, showing unsureness that she planted all over his chest. The roots of anxiety grew deep inside him, almost reaching his dead heart.

That's how the hunter became her prey.

"I am not," Amy whispered, putting the idea inside his head.

"She's not," words left his mouth emotionless.

"I am not your target," her breathing got sharp and unstable, her body was getting weaker one second after another.

"We've made a mistake," he spoke aloud, staring emptily at the darkness.

"What?" the other man's high pitched tone reached them from behind. "What the hell are you talking about, man?"

Amy almost had him wrapped around her little finger, locking the idea inside his mind. Making him realize that she was not the person they had been looking for, that they should let her go free.

But then something interrupted her.

Wires of his mind twisted unexpectedly, pulling her out of this part of the brain. Instead, she witnessed a different memory, finding herself in front of a stranger hidden under a black cloak. A deep shadow covered the person's face, keeping all the features unrecognizable.

But something about the scene seemed so wrong.

"It's not a memory," she spoke, forgetting about attackers. "It's a vision."

She had no control over things appearing before her eyes. Amy wanted to leave the scene, but it was holding her tight in its claws, draining too much energy from her body. The pressure inside her head was growing as the bridge between her, and the vampire was falling apart.

But then the vision deformed, drawing her attention to the figure's movements. Black fabric flew in the air, dancing and twisting in front of her, increasing dizziness. Presence of the mysterious person brought back coldness on Amy's body, stabbing her deep under the skin.

She looked at the stranger one last time to spot a smirk dancing on their pale lips, a smile of victory and pride. But then the vision went blurry, filling her head with unbearable pain.

And at the same time, breaking her connection with the vampire.

"You...you are..." the man stuttered, waking up from the trance. And as soon as he fully realized the threat, his eyes flashed red. "Get her!"

His partner jumped toward Amy immediately, using his vampire speed, leaving her no time to react. So before she even thought about avoiding the attack, he was already there, pushing her away. The force of the hit sent her body high in the air until it met a hard surface of the wall before finally landing on the ground.

Blonde strands of hair changed into light red, dyed by the liquid running down from the wound on her temple. It leaked on her cheek, leaving a mark before her shaky hand wiped it away from the skin. A hiss of pain accompanied by fear escaped her mouth when she realized what happened.

As those green eyes stared emptily at her fingers covered in blood.

"That explains why you're so valuable," the vampire spoke aloud, freed from her influence.

In a flash, both men were standing next to her, tempted by the smell. The flavour of iron tortured their throats, begging to satisfy the thirst.

The leading vampire grabbed her throat, lifting her body against the wall with no mercy. Amy's feet were hanging above the ground, desperately searching for balance. The growing pressure around her trachea caused her to choke in a last-ditch attempt to catch a breath.

"I need to taste it," the younger one licked his lips hungrily, hypnotized by the path of blood on her neck.

Go ahead, Amy's thoughts screamed, challenging, drink, and it's going to be the last thing you ever taste.

"We will deliver her to our master first," the older one interrupted harshly. "That was the plan."

Against these words, his temptation was not any weaker. The desire to dip fangs into the girl's neck was messing with years of training. But at that moment, nothing mattered more than the idea of blood running down his throat as he drinks every single drop from her mortal body.

If only both vampires weren't so distracted, they would have noticed a stranger emerging from shadows.

"I'll take it from here," an icy tone sounded behind their back, drawing attention.

But it was too late.

In one moment, both of them were pushed far away from the girl who fell on the ground heavily, unable to keep balance.

As soon as the grip around Amy's throat loosened up, her lungs began screaming for help. She was desperately searching for air, but it seemed to avoid her chest, leaving her breathless and weak instead. All she saw were blurred figures moving with impossible speed before her eyes. There was no way to guess which ones were her attackers and which one the saviour, no way to figure out who was on the winning side.

But there was no point of knowing that, no hope left for her.

Amy's eyes filled with tears because of the lack of air until she shut them down completely. That's when noises of cracking bones flew through the alley before leaving it alone with silence.

The fight was over.

Hers was over too.

"Amy, I need you to calm down," a familiar voice echoed inside her head followed by a soft hand on her arm. "I need you to focus on my breathing. With me, in..." the woman took a breath, and let it out with the other words," and out."

Amy opened her eyes, but there was nothing else than darkness in front of her. The soothing touch on her shoulder eased her anxiety, helping to follow the advice. Her first attempt failed but soon after the air filled her lungs, giving long-awaited peace.

"Take it easy," Kamilah said when the girl tried to move too rapidly.

"How did you..." her voice was shaky, lacking its previous sweetness.

She looked through the alley nervously, but bodies of vampires were nowhere to find. There was no sign left after the situation that had put her life at risk.

"You forgot your purse," Kamilah interrupted with an explanation as her eyes travelled through Amy's body, searching for injuries. At least other than the obvious one. "I saw your car in the garage, so I knew I have to track you down" she swallowed hard. "Your bleeding made it much easier."

It made Amy realize that she still had her temple and hair covered in blood. Her eyes stared at Kamilah with mistrust, watching her moves.

"Let me take care of it," Kamilah pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket and carefully placed it on the injury.

Amy's hand moved there hurriedly, taking the cloth from her. But as soon as their hands touched, some spark of electricity ran through both women's bodies. Their eyes connected again, gazing deeply into one another with a sudden understanding.

"Apply pressure right here," Kamilah whispered, moving away.

"Let's take you home, shall we?"

----------------------

Next chapter: 5

----------------------

tag list: @evexofxtime  @kamilah-is-queen @scarletheart @helpconfusedpersonhere @ayushixo @nydeiri @vonda-b-real

[eigwayne]

A Little Spoiled (CQL canon ChengQing, ch. 4/4)

Chenqing Ling/The Untamed Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing Rating: E

AO3 link: Chapter 1 | Chapter 4 Tumblr link: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

I wrote so many versions of this author's note for chapter 4, with so many thoughts about the writing process and apologies for not adding more internal dialog and all that. I do want to note/admit, I was a little free with the theories about spiritual energy and especially yin-yang energy in this chapter. Wen Qing is being playful at the time (yes really. It will make sense in context, if I did my job right) so don't take it as gospel.

But really, the most important thing to know is this:

Jiang Cheng is the little spoon.

Oh, and also there’s a bit of  golden core angst but on Wen Qing’s part.

---

It was strange and a bit uncomfortable, to sleep next to someone for the first time. Wen Qing was currently tucked up against Jiang Wanyin’s back, one arm draped over him, pretending to be fully asleep.

Oh, she had been asleep at one point, exhausted by his earlier attentions and an extremely relaxing hot bath. But she woke several times, no longer used to a bed that wasn’t lumpy and chilled, never used to cuddling in the first place. She wasn’t the only one; Jiang Wanyin had shifted several times as well, which is how he’d ended up in her arms instead of the other way around.

‘But this is actually a good chance,’ she thought. Her hand rested close to his lower dantian, after all, and she wouldn’t have to explain why she was feeling his spiritual pathways if he was asleep. She pressed against his back and slid her hand below his belly button.

His spiritual pathways were clearer than she’d expect, with his rather surly nature. Holding grudges, acting out of anger, and negative emotions could all warp or block the paths of spiritual energy, so of course she worried about Jiang Wanyin. But his energy moved freely and Wei Wuxian’s golden core was strong as ever.

‘It really worked,’ she sighed, relieved. There were any number of things that could have gone wrong, after all. ‘I should find a way to tell Wei Wuxian. He’ll be happy.’ She pressed her cheek to Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder. ‘You are so very loved, Jiang Wanyin, and the proof is spinning inside you. I wish I could tell you that.’

She lay like that, pressed against his warmth, arm around him with her hand resting on his stomach, and dozed fitfully until the first weak glimmers of dawn brightened the sky outside their window. As the sun rose higher, he shifted and made a soft noise, protesting the change in light, and it startled her awake. She started to draw her hand away.

He murmured, “A-Qing,” with the hushed and jumbled tone of one still dreaming. She froze, her heart pounding to hear such an intimate name from his lips.

What could she call him in return? She was more awake, more aware, and wasn’t much of an endearment type. A-Yuan and A-Ning were exceptions; she couldn’t make herself say ‘A-Cheng,’ not yet.

He started to roll toward her and she shifted to give him space, but he fumbled about with one hand to keep her close. His grip was loose and he didn’t open his eyes at all. He didn’t say anything, just made a demanding noise, and pulled her back into his arms as he settled onto his back.

Wen Qing rested her head on his chest, the fine fabric of his sleeping clothes beneath her cheek. Her hand was still on his stomach and she idly ran her fingers over him, from lower dantian to above his navel. She could feel the silky texture of cloth, the heat of his body, and when she pressed her senses further, the thrum of his golden core.

His shirt hitched up, not entirely by accident, and she thought, ‘I shouldn’t let this go any further.’ But “shouldn’t” wasn’t the same as “won’t” and she let her fingers touch his skin. He breathed a small sigh that cut right through her.

“What are you dreaming of now?” she whispered, unable to hold back.

“You.” He opened one eye, just a little. She started at his sudden response. Not asleep at all, then!

He put his own hand over hers, trapping her against his body. It was the hand with Zidian on it, and the metal was warm on her skin. She pressed a kiss to his chest.

“It’s early,” she said. “You should keep dreaming a while longer.”

He grunted in protest and pulled her closer, half on top of him. He seemed tense beneath her. “As if I could sleep through this.”

Wen Qing shift against him, sliding her thigh between his to confirm her suspicions. She hid a smile against his shoulder.

“What am I going to do with you, Jiang Wanyin?” she teased as she rubbed her leg against his growing erection. “Becoming like this so easily.”

“Only for you,” he said.

She didn’t quite believe him, but it was a pretty sentiment. She kissed his neck and ran a hand over his chest. “You’ve been very good for me, haven’t you?”

The moan he let out at that was deep and rumbling. His erection throbbed, straining against his pants. The thought of feeling him get harder because of her? It was alluring. She shifted again.

This was probably not what Granny and Aunty had meant when they told her to be a bit spoiled.

“So good to me,” he moaned, and something in the way he said it made her- or at least the part of her that played at being Baoshan Sanren- ashamed.

‘He trusts me,’ she thought, and it made tears well in her eyes. Someday, he would find out about his core and that trust would be ruined, because she held no illusions about that. Secrets were almost always found out. The thought of losing his trust, losing this, was like a pang in her heart.

‘Will I let this go on? Will I touch him like this, knowing what I did to him? To Wei Wuxian?’ He made a soft sound of protest when she stopped moving, and he moaned her name.

‘I will,’ she realized. ‘I’m already in this deep. And I want him again.’

She surged up to kiss him, wanting to hide her secrets, forget them, and drown in Jiang Wanyin’s trust while she could. He returned the kiss with fervor.

This kiss was long and lingering, and later on, it was the one that Wen Qing remembered most clearly and most often when she stole a few moments to herself. His touch was firm and hot. She couldn’t feel his teeth at all for a change and she thought, ‘This is the type of kiss in stories. This type of kiss could go on forever.’

(Oh, she liked her nippy young man just fine, but there was a time for that and it was not every single kiss. She was thrilled he realized it without prompting from her.)

When they broke apart, for all kisses must end at some point, he held her close. “I want you,” he said.

“I’m aware,” she told him. His arousal was hot against her thigh, after all.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“You can.” She could guess what he wanted, even though he didn’t say. But she would give him anything. For the secrets she kept. For her family that he was feeding through his gifts. For the young man who could have loved her.

She sat up and let him pull her sleep shirt over her head. It ended up on the floor as she wriggled out of her pants. Jiang Wanyin shoved his own pants down and nearly off, and Wen Qing graciously didn’t mention he looked ridiculous, with them bunched around one ankle and his shirt still on. He was eager and she appreciated that.

She straddled his thigh again, grinding against him as she ran her hands over his stomach. He clasped her wrists and pulled her close to kiss him, and she was back where she started, half draped over him with Zidian warm against her skin. He kissed her, long and passionate, one hand holding her close and the other stroking her shoulder.

Wen Qing ran her fingers down his torso, gliding over the silk of his shirt until she reached skin. He shivered, and she was close enough to feel his erection jump.

It was too tempting not to touch. Her fingers ghosted over him, up and down his length. His breath hitched and his hips bucked in a way that was tremendously gratifying. She smirked against his lips and did it again.

He squeezed her tightly and called her “A-Qing” again. He shifted like he wanted to roll them over but Wen Qing was comfortable where she was. She rocked her hips against his thigh and closed her hand around his erection. That was enough to convince him to stay on his back.

It wasn’t long before her desire made his leg slick where she ground against him. His hands played along her back. She worked his erection in one hand, but as she leaned over to kiss her way down his body, the head brushed against her chest. His hips jerked at the contact, straining for more. She brushed him against her breast again as an experiment. It was rather nice, the hotness of him against her nipple, and although he didn’t jolt like before, he did make a pleased little hum.

‘That will be worth exploring, someday. But for now…’ She straddled his leg, bracing herself on her hands and rocking her hips into him. His right hand fell to her thigh. His left hand went to his erection and he looked at her.

“Wen Qing,” he said, his tone demanding.

Well. If he was going to be that way, she would be demanding right back. “Keep your hands on me.”

“Come closer, then. I’m waiting for you.” He held his erection upright as he stroked himself.

She paused a moment, grinding her wet sex against his thigh, just to make him wait. She inched forward until the knee between his legs was so close to his scrotum, she could feel the warmth of his skin. He held his breath the whole time.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” she said, teasing him with his title. She leaned up to press her breasts against him and whisper against his lips. “Sometimes you have to ask for things you want.”

He swallowed roughly. His erection jolted between their stomachs. “Will you touch me, Wen-guniang?”

“Good.” She sat up and shifted so his hips were between her legs, his erection trapped beneath her lower lips but not inside, not yet. He put his hands on her thighs and she rolled her hips again, this time against his straining erection.

“Thank you,” he moaned.

“Your hands,” she said. “Higher.”

He started to slide his palms up her thighs but stopped himself short. “I thought we had to ask before we touched.”

He meant it teasingly, but so soon after feeling his golden core- Wei Wuxian’s golden core, inside him without his knowledge- it hit Wen Qing more like an accusation. She leaned down, close enough to kiss his cheek, to hide her face before guilt touched her expression. “Yes, we should ask,” she choked out. “May I kiss you, Jiang-zongzhu?”

“Always,” he said. “For that, you don’t need to ask.”

She started lightly, touching her lips to his. He opened up for her immediately and deepened the kiss, his arms enfolding her. His embrace was fevered and it chased any other thought out of her mind.

“Will you…” he said between kisses, “Wen-guniang, Wen Qing, will you let me inside you? Can’t you feel-“

“I can.” She rocked into him again so he could feel her, how ready she was for him. Then she reached down to steady him and pushed against him. It was just as awkward as the first time, but also just as nice, with his soft, encouraging gasps in her ear and the stretch as he filled her. She moved, up and down, letting him deeper inside.

“Will you touch me, too, Jiang Wanyin?” She guided his hand between her legs. “Here. Like you did last night.”

“Was that good?” he asked, sliding his fingers against her.

“Very.” She sat up a little, to give him better access and so she could see his face. The change in angle let him deeper inside her. She saw every little reaction- the way his eyes fluttered close, his lips parted in another moan. “So loud, Jiang Wanyin! Do I feel that good?”

“So good,” he said, his hands falling to her hips. “So good to me.”

His words brought the golden core and her guilt about the secret rushing back again. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the adoration in his face. ‘How did I ignore this earlier? Make me forget, dammit!’ She leaned back down to capture him in a searing kiss.

She didn’t forget, but she certainly pretended. She pretended there was nothing between them but the burn of desire. She pretended her hands on his body were only those of a lover, and never a doctor, even though she ached to feel how his golden core spun during their passion. She pretended they would be together after the morning faded to noon, that she wouldn’t be going back into hiding, that the silver hairpiece he’d put in her hair the day before was a real courting gift and not a trinket to be sold for clothes money. She pretended her eyes didn’t burn with unshed tears, and there was no desperation in her kisses.

(How easily he let himself cry earlier, even if it was quickly hidden! She wasn’t sure she could let go of her pride long enough, not in front of him.)

Oblivious to any of those thoughts, Jiang Wanyin reached for her, one hand between them as he tried to  tease pleasure out of her, his other hand roaming over her as if memorizing her body. His sounds were soft and restrained, like he was holding himself back. Wen Qing didn’t dare open her eyes, too nervous about breaking the illusion she built in her head, too afraid of meeting his gaze and finding tenderness again.

But she didn’t stop. Her mind may have been spinning in all directions, but her body still ached for release.

“Please,” she sighed into his lips. His fingers were clumsy, the angle awkward with their bodies so close together, but he tried obliged her. Soon, she sat up, bracing herself above him. She grabbed his wrist and held his hand in place as she rode him, her whole body trembling as she neared her climax. Jiang Wanyin’s other hand went to her hip, Zidian pressing a mark into her skin.

He bucked up into her, and she bit back the keening cry building inside her. She put one of her hands on top of his and rocked her hips, careful to move with him this time.

“A-Qing,” he groaned, like that soft touch was more than he could stand.

She opened her eyes, unwilling to hide any longer, not when his voice sounded so awestruck. His lips were parted though his eyes were closed. His shirt had gotten hiked up when her hands were roaming and his scars were on full display but he was too focused on her to care. ‘That is the most ridiculous face I’ve ever seen him make,’ she thought, ‘and it’s beautiful.’

She worked her hips, hands on his chest, and smiled down at him fondly. “Jiang Wanyin,” she said in a low, breathy voice.

His eyes flicked open when he heard his name, and the sight must have been something because he cried out, “A-Qing!” as he tensed. He pressed down with his hands, burying himself in her with a choked moan. Wen Qing rode out his orgasm, eyes squeezed shut from the sheer pleasure of feeling him lose himself, his fingers firmly against her clit, until she came, thankfully only moments later. She collapsed on top of him, spent, and they lay entwined while they caught their breath.

“Wen Qing,” he said, his voice low and a bit hoarse and full of wonder. “Thank you.”

She hummed her own gratitude and stroked his arm before she slid off him. She decided she hated the moment when he left her body, and the cold of their mess on her thighs, but she liked the lethargic warmth of afterglow. She liked the feel of his skin under her hand, even the ridges of his scars. She would do this in the future, if she could get him alone.

Once she could stand on her blissfully weakened knees, she fetched a basin and cloth to clean them up before the sun rose too much higher. He watched her, eyes hooded and a tiny smile on his lips.

“You are lazy this morning, Jiang-zongzhu,” she said as she set the items down.

“Nonsense. I’m just enjoying the moment properly.”

“Excuses,” she teased (She was glad they both relaxed enough for teasing. It wasn’t their natural state, after all). She wet the cloth and patted his leg. She really should have washed up herself first, but her instincts were to care for someone else.

Jiang Wanyin interrupted her ministrations, coaxing her down for a surprisingly gentle kiss. She started to straighten and froze. A glint of silver called to her on the floor.

“Oh!” She knelt down and crawled a step to retrieve it. “The hairpin I dropped. I’ve found it for you,” she said, sitting back on her calves, but Jiang Wanyin wasn’t looking at the pin in her hand. He had rolled over and half sat up to stare at her, eyes hungry, with his bottom lip between his teeth. “Jiang Wanyin?” she prompted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “From every angle.” And Wen Qing flushed to think about how lewd she must have looked from where he sat, on her hands and knees with his spend dripping between her lower lips, like she had no shame at all.

“Take the pin,” she demanded, looking away from him. He obliged her, setting the pin aside. Then he pulled her up into his arms.

“I mean it. You’re beautiful, and if I could spend the whole day fucking you, I would.”

“Don’t be silly.” She ignored his rude phrasing in favor of practical considerations. “We’d need to eat at some point, for one, and you’d be expending far too much of your yang energy. As it is, when you get back to Lotus Pier, you should meditate for a while. I wouldn’t recommend another sexual encounter for at least…” He was young and his energy surprisingly well-aligned considering his difficult disposition. His qi would be perfectly rebalanced in a few hours. But the thought that he might go out and find himself another partner perturbed her.

“A month,” she told him. “No sexual activity, no other bed companions for a month.”

“Is that your diagnosis, Doctor Wen?” There was something in his voice, something rough. Had he caught on to her? But when she looked in his eye, there was no censure there. Just a lack of the usual tension creases and a sparkle.

‘He’s teasing me back!’ she realized. So Wei Wuxian wasn’t the only brother with a sense of humor! She played along, holding herself with a professional air despite her nudity. She put two fingers on his wrist and felt his spiritual pathways (still in good order, thankfully).

“One month,” she ‘confirmed.’ “You’re in good health but you’ve expended quite a bit of energy.”

“And what about the one who received that energy? Will she be well?” He looked at her with real concern then, taking her hand in his.

“She’ll be fine,” Wen Qing said, her voice catching. “She happily received everything you gave her.”

He let out a small moan and yanked her into his arms again, and just sat there with his cheek against her hair. She rested a hand on his chest.

“I would give her everything if I could,” he said. “If I find a way-“

“Don’t make promises the world won’t let you keep,” Wen Qing scolded, slipping out of his grasp and getting to her feet. “Now let’s finish getting ready. We have people waiting for us.”

---

Wen Qing arrived at the foot of the Burial Mounds shortly after noon, alone, dressed in her sedate grey and brown robes. The flowy peach dress she wore the day before was hidden at the bottom of her qiankun pouch, which was so stuffed that she almost couldn’t close it.

“Leave a message at the tree where we first kissed,” Jiang Wanyin had said as he dropped her off, after flying her close as he dared on his sword. “If you need anything I can provide…”

“Anything he could provide” was less than what she needed, and they both knew it. He never finished the sentence.

“You may leave messages if you pass by again,” she said, pressing a kiss to his bottom lip, hand on his cheek. “But be circumspect. That tree is near the main path and Wei Wuxian goes to town far more than I.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he snapped. But he pulled her into another one of those crushing hugs, and she melted against him.

‘I shouldn’t have encouraged him. But how will I live without this again?’

Reluctantly, she left the warm circle of his arms and made her way up the path. She glanced behind her only once.

Jiang Wanyin was still standing where she left him, watching her walk away. Like he had after Dafan Mountain, or after she returned that comb. She wanted to run back into his arms. She wanted to yell and chase him away.

She wanted him to follow her, for a change.

‘We are both fools,’ she thought. ‘Fools with too much pride.’

She smiled, closed-lipped and sweet, and once she was certain he was not moving, was letting her go, she turned back to her own path.

----

“Thank you for waiting for me,” she said as her family gathered around to greet her. “I had something to take care of. But my patient was grateful and sent back some gifts.” She opened her qiankun pouch gave the first bolt of linen to Aunty.

A short time later, Wei Wuxian emerged from his cave, summoned by the smell of lunch. A-Yuan clung to Wen Qing’s leg, chewing messily on treat he had badgered her into giving him before the meal, and A-Ning smiled as best he could, obviously glad everyone was home. Wen Qing’s heart nearly burst to see them all.

“You… didn’t run into Jiang Cheng again, did you?” Wei Wuxian asked her, cautiously hopeful.

She looked down at A-Yuan so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. He has things to do, and it would be quite a coincidence to keep seeing him, wouldn’t it? I don’t know why I asked.” Wei Wuxian laughed, brittle and sickly.

‘He needs to go home to his real family,’ Wen Qing thought, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. ‘Someday. Someday, I won’t have to keep those brothers’ secrets.’

But for now, she had more gifts to give out, and a family to spoil, just a little.

-------

Ending Notes: Originally, this was a mere interlude, and canon continues uninterrupted, barreling along toward tragedy despite a few stolen moments of happiness. But! I got several different ideas for how canon could diverge from this point, and I'm pretty excited to work on at least one of them (which is why I decided to finish editing this chapter and post it). I don't know when it will be finished or even which idea will get worked on when, but I don't intend to give up on it until at least one is posted. Wish me luck on that!

Thank you for reading!

[serialreblogger]

I saw in the tags of your post that you mentioned van helsing and his manipulative tendencies? what did you mean by that? I've only read Dracula (a while ago) and I'd be v v interested to hear what u have to say about that (and anything else u have to say about that book),,, also if u wanna talk about tma, how do u approach sasha's character when writing ur fics? I love ur writing (and also i could always do with more content about Sasha, I love her so much lol) hope ur doing well!!!! :D

oooooh FRIEND thank you so much HERE WE GO

(@lunarmultishine​ you also asked about Dracula, thank you!)

So--well, let’s start with an example. The following passage is taken from Dr. Seward’s diary entry in Chapter 10, when Van Helsing is first putting some rudimentary anti-vampire measures in poor Lucy’s room:

[ID: photograph of a page in a book, which reads: “Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and smelling them. Now she threw them down, saying, with half-laughter and half-disgust:--

‘Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why, these flowers are only common garlic.’

(in pencilled-in brackets:)To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sternness, his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting:--

‘No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I do; and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of others, if not for your own.’ Then, seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might well be, he went on more gently: ‘Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good; but there is much virtue to you in those so common flower. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the wreath you are to wear. But hush! No telling to others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience; and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you. Now sit still a while. (Pencilled-in brackets close here) Come with me, friend John,”

Here the text is cut off. The phrases “these flowers are only common garlic” and “Take care, for the sake of others, if not for your own” are both underlined in pencil. End ID]

I had to fully stop reading and spend a good minute just quietly repeating “ooooh man. oooOOOOh man. hooooooooooOOOO” like

[ID: that one tiffany pollard meme where she’s sitting on a bed with sunglasses on conveying an emotion that is simultaneously indecipherable and entirely representative of my mental state. End ID]

until my brain kicked back in, because. well, there’s a lot to unpack here.

Setting aside, for the moment, the biblical allusion I’m tempted to see in “take care for the sake of others, if not for your own” (especially because Van Helsing peppers every other sentence with some kind of phrasing or imagery ripped straight from the Christian New Testament, which is frankly another point in the “probably a cultist” column), this is like. A textbook guide on how to abuse your authority and become a cult leader.

Let’s break it down:

Lucy laughs, genuine but bordering on derisive, because she can’t quite believe this is what her doctor is telling her to do: You’re playing a joke, surely! she says. “These flowers are only common garlic.”

[ID: A hand holds a yellow flower to a dog’s nose. The dog is visibly horrified. This is accurate to what Lucy’s face presumably looked like when she realized her doctor’s solution was a lot of garlic weeds. End ID]

At this, Van Helsing presents the reader with Step 1 of Engendering Superstition To Accrue Power: fearmonger. Or more precisely, demonstrate a sudden, shocking shift from friendly to threatening, and make it clear that this is directly because the person you want to control expressed doubt (about your teachings or your authority).

Scare them.

Establish that they are not permitted to question you. “There is grim purpose in all I do; and I warn you that you do not thwart me.”

He also throws in a bit of “if you don’t do so, you’ll be hurting other people,” which is a nice touch. Very effective when your victim is displaying potential signs of Heroic Non-Compliance--if they can’t be persuaded to fall in line out of vague unnamed fear for their own safety, there’s always the “guilt and potential unspecified danger to others” that can coerce the more self-sacrificing of the populace.

[ID: a grainy screenshot of Bo Donaldson, captioned “Billy, don’t be a hero, come back to me”. He’s really belting it out. End ID]

After he has her good and scared, he moves smoothly onto Step 2: be the comforter. “Seeing poor Lucy scared, he went on more gently: “Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear.” You’ve established your ability to govern through fear, but that’s a tenuous mode of control at best. People will obey you for a brief time out of terror, but they will only truly serve something they think will keep them safe. Be the danger they fear, and the only one to promise them safety. The better you are at this, the more total your control. Van Helsing makes it clear that “[everything] I do only for your good,” so really, defying him is naturally going to be bad for her, because what he wants is what’s best for her.

(By the way, this is a popular abuser’s tactic. If you find yourself thinking of someone in your life with overwhelming gratitude and affection--feeling like they’re the only one who knows how to keep you safe, that they would do anything to protect you, that they would never hurt you, never, never, as you carefully don’t think about what happened the other day because they “didn’t mean it” or “it wasn’t that bad”? that’s on purpose. They’re doing that to you on purpose. And you deserve to get out.)

Step 3: establish a sense of equality and camaraderie.

[ID: screenshot of John Mulaney from “The Comeback Kid,” with captions reading, “Hmm, we’re not so different, you and I. End ID]

You’ve already made it clear that you hold complete power over their safety, able to both provide it and take it away. Now you need to make them want you to have that power. You need them to trust you. “See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear.” Van Helsing doesn’t need to be the one to do these things, it’s implied; but he does them, because he wants her to be safe, he wants to make sure of it by personally overseeing it. He’s the source of her safety, and he takes that responsibility seriously. It matters to him, too. (Really, it might matter to him more than it matters to her. Or so it’s implied; after all, if she’s questioning him she must be willing to put herself and others at risk, as she’s made to understand by Step 1 and the beginning of his speech).

Next, most importantly for a wannabe cultist, Van Helsing segues into Step 4: secrecy. “But hush! no telling to others that make so inquisitive questions.” Not only is it dangerous for Lucy herself to be inquisitive; she must not for a second indulge someone else’s curiosity.

[ID: a graphic that looks like it was drawn in MS Paint, showing two people with long hair and open mouths, both holding 80s-era telephones to their ears. Three arrows point from the person on the left to the person on the right. The person on the left has a speech bubble showing them in bed, with a smaller thought bubble coming from the in-bed version. Presumably, this is meant to convey a dream. The “dream” pictured in the thought bubble appears to be a photograph of a person with long black braids (similar hair to the speaker), wearing a tall, round orange hat that looks like it has the golden snitch on top of it. Above this graphic in large letters is a message reading: “Spiritual Experiences Must be Kept SECRET”. End ID]

And then finally, finally we get to the root of the matter, what this was all leading up to and what everything else is just window dressing to entice both Lucy and the reader to come in and accept what’s next: Step 5: obedience. “We must obey,” Van Helsing says, as if he’s a part of this we, even though he’s the only one throughout the novel providing information and giving orders. “Silence is a part of obedience, and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you.” We’re just reiterating all the previous points in reverse order, and establishing that above all, obedience is key to assuring safety, happiness, relationships with people she cares about.

[ID: a black-and-white image of a person stepping along a crosswalk. Above it, in large plain text, it reads: “Obedience. Doing the right thing.” This is not ominous in the least, I think. End ID]

Hush. Don’t ask questions. It’s alright. Don’t tell anyone. Just do what I say.

[choices-and-voices]

hi sorry if this has already been asked somewhere but im was wondering if you had any tips on how to get the best experience without having to pay ?

Hi there! Don’t worry, this question hasn’t been asked before, and I am honestly super flattered that you value my opinion enough to ask it ☺️ I’m not sure how helpful my tips will be because I don’t exactly consider myself an expert in this, but here are some things that came to mind! I’ve gone into quite a bit of detail, but if you want a quicker overview, just stick to the bold headings. Also, if any of the people reading this have good tips of their own, please lmk! I’m always learning new things about how to do this too 💕

1. This one’s a bit obvious, but still – take the opportunities that the game gives you to earn free diamonds. That means watching the bonus ads every day (5 diamonds/day), playing through chapters as often as you can (including replaying old books if there are no new releases – 2 diamonds/chapter), and watching ads at the end of book chapters for an extra diamond. Obviously, all this is a bit of a balancing act – you want to be playing Choices often enough to build up your diamonds, but not so often that it takes over your life and makes you feel frustrated, because what’s the point of it if it’s not fun anymore, y’know? So I’ve always been careful not to overdo it. Even if all you do is watch the bonus ads every day, that’s 35 diamonds/week – basically, one big diamond scene a week – which is honestly not too shabby.

2. At any one time, only play 1-2 books that you’re really invested in, and try to supplement that with another 2-3 books that you’re not really invested in or are replaying just for diamonds. As tempting as it can be to rush through every good-looking book in the app all at once, that just leads to a situation where a) you’re trying to divide your free keys between waaay too many releases, and b) there are so many demands on you for diamonds, you never get to consistently spend them on anything. So I personally think it’s best to only read a couple of good books at once, and instead of marathoning them, break them up with chapters from less-good books – this builds up your diamond stash for spending on the good books. Which leads into my next point:

3. Don’t zip through books too fast – even if most of the chapters are already released, spreading them out helps you earn more diamonds for them in the meantime. I’m really lucky to have been playing Choices for so long that almost all the books were presented to me in weekly release format – if I downloaded the app for the first time today, and saw all the fully-released books on there, I feel like I would be way too overwhelmed to play. So I reckon that, even if a book isn’t technically a weekly release for you, make it a weekly release! You might decide to play all the books you’re really invested in on a particular day when you have more free time – say, a Sunday. Then, you have Monday-Saturday every week to earn diamonds for those books, and something to look forward to at the end of it all. As for what you do with those diamonds:

4. Be smart about what you spend diamonds on. There are a couple of different components to this tip – it involves things like a) figuring out which types of purchases are worth diamonds in general, b) figuring out which types of purchases you want to prioritise in certain books, and c) planning ahead before you start playing a book chapter about where you might want to spend diamonds. To address each of those things one-by-one:

a) Figure out which types of purchases are worth diamonds in general. Off the top of my head, there are 6 main types of diamond purchases in Choices: ‘friendly’ scenes with LIs (12-25 diamonds), ‘steamy’ scenes with LIs (25-30 diamonds), scenes with your whole friendship group, collectible items (e.g. the tapestry pieces in Bloodbound, the clues in Veil of Secrets, etc.), outfits, and pets. Your mileage may vary a lot on which of these are most important to you, so take my opinions with a grain of salt. But my general advice would be to i) prioritise group scenes above LI scenes, ii) prioritise ‘friendly’ LI scenes above ‘steamy’ LI scenes, iii) avoid collectibles, and iv) go for outfits and pets only if you really like the look of them. This advice is based on the fact that, firstly, I think you get a better experience of immersion in a book if you know a bit about all the characters around MC, rather than just about one LI; secondly, ‘friendly’ LI scenes tend to tell you more about the LI than ‘steamy’ scenes, which are often 80-90% copied-and-pasted erotica despite being more expensive; thirdly, collectibles are a massive drain on diamond stores, and almost always unlock quite short, generic scenes that it’s easy to find on Tumblr or YouTube; and fourthly, both outfits and pets don’t do much except appear in the story at key moments, which can be a really nice touch but is still only needed in moderation. Of course, there are exceptions to these rules, and you might find that those exceptions are sometimes book-specific. Which leads me to Part B of this point:

b) Figure out which types of purchases you want to prioritise in certain books. It’s all well and good for me to say that group scenes are usually better than LI scenes, but when I’m playing a book with an amazing LI but a pretty meh supporting cast (*cough cough* Myra Dixon carries Baby Bump on her shoulders *cough cough*), I obviously may need to adjust my spending habits slightly. Moreover, by focusing all your diamond spending on just one main thing per book – like Myra’s romance in Baby Bump, or the party’s side-quests in Blades of Light and Shadow, or the posse in Queen B – I think you end up with a much better playing experience, because you feel like you’re seeing at least one facet of the story in-depth instead of getting a patchy surface view of lots of different facets. For the most part, the purchases you prioritise in a book can mostly depend on personal taste, but there are a few books where some background knowledge might be helpful in the decision. Four things that I think are worth flagging are that i) the ‘competition books’ (America’s Most Eligible, Queen B, Hot Couture) do require regular outfit purchases to win, although winning isn’t that much better an experience than being runner-up; ii) Veil of Secrets and Nightbound are two books where it’s worth saving 30-35 diamonds for the final chapter, because your MC is forced to leave the small-town setting if you don’t; iii) Across the Void is a book that frequently invites you to spend diamonds to save characters’ lives, but their death arcs are honestly much better-written and more sensible than their survival arcs; and iv) the It Lives series is the only one where characters can die due to an accumulation of choices you make throughout the story, so maybe it’s worth keeping some diamonds in reserve for that one. Which just leaves us with one more sub-point:

c) Plan ahead before you start playing a book chapter about where you might want to spend diamonds. I want to take this opportunity to thank whichever people in the fandom maintain the Choices wiki, because oh my gosh, they are lifesavers. For the last year or so, my response whenever a new Choices chapter is released has been to wait a few hours, Google ‘[book name] choices’, open the wiki result, and skim through to check how many diamond choices are available & how much they cost. Because all the wiki includes are the possible responses to every choice presented – it doesn’t even state the wording of the choice itself – this is a relatively spoiler-free technique that helps a lot with big picture planning. For example, you might decide not to buy an early group scene because there’s a nicer-sounding LI scene later on, and come to think of it, you should replay a few more chapters of another book first to save up the diamonds for that scene. If you don’t mind encountering just a few more spoilers before you play the chapter, you can also scout out its diamond scenes in more detail by searching the relevant book or character tags on Tumblr, or by looking for a chapter stream on YouTube. You may decide that you don’t need to buy a diamond scene if you’ve already seen it played through by someone else, or alternatively, you may decide whether or not to buy a diamond scene based on how good it looks in an existing playthrough – in either case, these techniques can help you thoughtfully ration out the diamonds you have, instead of being caught off-guard whenever a diamond choice comes up.

5. On the subject of the Choices wiki, it’s also a great way to maximise your success in books without using diamonds. Whenever there’s a ‘right’ option to a choice that gives you a better outcome later in the chapter, that’s indicated in the wiki. So with a bit of pre-reading of the wiki before you play the chapter, and/or with the wiki open on a separate screen as you play, you can get the best outcome without having to buy that outfit or bonus scene that promised you ‘an advantage.’ Obviously, your mileage may vary on whether this method is actually worth it, or whether it takes all the fun out of Choices by ‘cheating’ at the gaming aspect. I personally view Choices as more of an interactive story app than a game I’m trying to beat, so I have no issue with this method, but opinions may differ and that’s okay.

6. If you’re really feeling like a lack of diamonds is limiting your playing experience, it may be best to start out with ‘cheaper’ books until you have more diamonds stored up. In this case, I’m using ‘cheaper’ to mean books where there are fewer diamond scenes, where diamond scenes are less expensive, and/or where diamond scenes don’t play as big a role in the plot. It can be hard to identify which books fit this bill, but as a general rule, it’s more likely to be the earlier-released ones or less-popular ones. Some which I’d recommend are the first few books of the Freshman series, the #LoveHacks series, the High School Story series, the Perfect Match series, Most Wanted, The Heist: Monaco, Wishful Thinking, Bachelorette Party, and The Royal Masquerade.

7. Finally, a really quick tip for making the most out of free keys – keys are used up as soon as you start a book chapter, and refresh ~every 3 hours. This means that, even if you don’t have time to play chapters every 3 hours, you should try to open the app roughly that often and just click to unlock a chapter. When you finally have time to play, you’ll have a whole lot of chapters ready to go plus another two refreshed keys, and you can power through them at whatever speed you need to fit in them into your break time or to earn diamonds for an upcoming release. Once again, this is a tip that may need to be practised in moderation, because you don’t want to be constantly interrupting your life to load up an app on your phone. But even if you just log in and unlock chapters every 6 hours, or every 12 hours, that’s still 2-4 extra chapters ready for you at the end of the day plus your two free keys.

I think that’s about all for my tips! Thanks for reading, and I hope it helped at least a bit ❤️

[tsipasce]

Same Difference Ch. 12

A/N: ssorry for the late-ish upload, I got married yesterday! :D

On that note, this chapter is a bit cuter than usual so I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you for all the really sweet comments and kudos <3

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 | 05  | 06 | 07 | 08 |  09 |  10 |  11

AO3

Nanami undressed carefully and ran a bath, wincing as she slid in, the soapy water reminding her of all the nicks and bruises she’d accumulated that night. Exhaling for what felt like the first time in hours, she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub and felt a tear roll down her cheek. Before she could register the action, the emotional dam burst open and tears continued to fall one after the other as she tried to stifle a whimper.

It had all come to a head and the pain she’d been suppressing bubbled upwards and down her flushed face. She had an inkling of what to expect when she got involved with his world. She knew there would be consequences, but the confirmation and reality of said consequences were another story entirely. This is... a lot. Even for me. She thought almost laughing to herself again at the predicament, attempting to steady her breath, But I can—I will handle it. We’re gonna accept this feeling and then let it go. If I let this take over, then what was all this for? I’m gonna keep going. I have to… But for just a little while longer, I’m going to rest.

She sighed, healing her wounds and scrubbing herself gently with her favorite lavender scrub. If she was going to rest, she was going to do it right. I’ll finish up here, light some candles, put on my favorite pj’s, play some music in the living roo—just then she remembered she wasn’t alone and sank down into the tub, suddenly feeling very exposed. As nervous as she was, there was also a strange sense of comfort. If he’s still there, that is.

Accepting she couldn’t hide in her bubble fortress forever, she exited the tub, toweling off and going to her room through the adjoining door in the bathroom. She was still committed to the favorite p.j.’s idea, putting on a matching black and white short sleeve shirt and shorts. Before the thought of “what’s Overhaul gonna think?” could rear its head, she cut it off. It’s my house, I wear what I want. Why would I care what he thinks anyways? She thought, trying to convince herself, rolling her eyes at the notion while also giving herself a once over in the mirror before exiting the room.

Her confidence waning with every step she took down the hallway to her living room, she sheepishly peeked from around the corner to see if he was still there. He was on her couch, focused on whatever was on his phone. He hadn’t moved from the spot where she’d left him.

“If you need something, feel free to come and get it. There’s no need to sneak around your own house.”

“Wha—I was not ‘sneaking around’. Just… checking to see if you were still here is all.” She sputtered, holding her arm, avoiding eye contact as he’d turned to address her.

“Like I said, I’ll be here.” The look he was giving her made her shift nervously.

She simply nodded, briskly making her way to the kitchen to make her nightly cup of tea. Realizing she should probably be a decent host, she decided to offer him some. He’ll probably say no, but what the hell.

“I’m making some tea, you want some?” Yup. Nailed it. Host of the year, here I come.

“No, thank you.” Knew it. Why’d I even ask. She chastised herself inwardly.

Accepting defeat, she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove to warm as she gathered the rest of her ingredients. The water now hot, she poured a bit into the bowl, discarding it after she swished it around. She opened the cannister, taking a small scoop of the powder to press through the sieve. An equally small amount of water was carefully poured into the bowl before she began whisking, now calmed by the familiar routine. As she lost herself in the task, a small voice cut through her thoughts.

“… is that Sei-un?”

She paused, turning to look at him, pleasantly surprised. “You can smell that through your mask?”

“Yes… it’s my favorite.”

“Mine too! I mean, I enjoy it. A little.” She said pulling back her excitement. “Would you like some tea now?” she tempted, raising a brow. It was nice to meet a fellow matcha enthusiast, though the circumstances may not have been ideal.

“… Yes. But I need to see you make it, so you do it properly.”

“Oh, so you don’t trust my expertise?” she asked, slightly offended, but used to his fussiness by now.

“I trust your taste, but no I do not trust this alleged ‘expertise’ when it comes to preparation.” He began as he walked into the kitchen to stand next to her at the counter.

“Pssh. Nothing ‘alleged’ about these moves. Watch and learn.” Nanami expertly sifted the powder and  whisked until a layer of foam formed at the top, letting her know it was ready to be served. She took a teacup and gracefully poured the mixture, sliding it over to him triumphantly. He picked up the cup, bringing it up to his nose to take in the aroma before Nanami realized he would have to take off his mask to enjoy her concoction. “Oop! Sorry,” She said covering her eyes with one hand as she motioned him to drink with the other.

“You know you don’t have to… Nevermind.” He said before pulling his mask down to take an appraising sip.

She heard a content sigh and rustling as she spread her fingers to peek through, catching a glimpse of his now-serene gaze, “…So?” She asked eager for his response.

“This… is good.” He responded sincerely and Nanami found herself beaming at the confirmation of her expert moves. “But let me show you how it’s really done.”

He went through similar steps, his movements precise and measured as though he’d done it a million times before. There was a peacefulness in him she’d only seen glimpses of in the lab as he carefully prepared the cup for her. She found herself wishing she could see this side of him more often.

After finishing, he confidently, slid the cup over to her waiting to gauge her reaction. She grasped it with both hands, taking in the scent before sipping. She closed her eyes, relaxing for what felt like the first time today. There was nothing like having a hot cup of tea after a long day but having someone else make it for you made it that much better. “I can’t lie, this is great. Nice and smooth.” She replied earnestly. Their eyes met and there was a contentment in his gaze she was happy to see. Realizing they were once again too close, she broke the eye contact, to her dismay finding it was getting harder with each time.  She walked over to the couch to sit and enjoy the rest of it, hopeful she could shake off the growing tension before they had another repeat of whatever had happened earlier in the lab.

She heard footsteps from behind her as he returned to sit on the couch, leaving a safe amount of space between them.

“So… have you ever tried using a milk frother?” She began.

He turned to her, an incredulous look in his eyes, “Are you trying to insult me?”

“What? No, I just had a friend recommend it since it’s faster, but it kinda defeats the purpose to me. Making it is half the fun, so why rush?”

He regarded her, pleasantly surprised, “I couldn’t agree more…”

They continued trading tips and tricks for the next hour, Nanami going on a tangent rather passionately, as he listened intently to her speech about the best tea snacks and why they weren’t pickled plums. Overhaul himself becoming rather animated as he rated and critique how adequately (Kurono) or terribly (Rappa) each of the Precepts prepared tea, unsurprisingly rating himself the highest. The caffeine began to wear off and she tried to stifle a yawn. “I think I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

“That would be wise.” He confirmed, politely shooing her off.

Rubbing her eyes, she took her cup to the sink to rinse it off, swearing she’d clean the rest in the morning. Before she made it down the hallway, she had an epiphany and turned back to the living room.

“I’m so sorry, there’s a guest room here you can use. It’s right down the—”

“No need. I won’t be sleeping.” He responded, cutting her off as he glanced out her window.

“Oh. Well, in case you change your mind or doze off,” she said, her voice trailing off as she went into the spare room, coming back with blankets and pillows placing them on the sofa, “these babies are freshly laundered.” She began walking towards her room before turning again, “Thank you for coming by…Goodnight.” It was almost a whisper as she found herself too nervous to raise her voice further.

Before she closed her bedroom door, a voice called back, “You’re welcome, goodnight.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Saturday morning came and Nanami awoke, feeling surprisingly well-rested considering what happened the night before. Stretching, she rolled out of bed, checking her phone for texts while making a b-line to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Walking into the living room, she saw him perched by the window, checking his phone. Hearing footsteps, he glanced towards her, doing a double-take before assessing the visage fully.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her chestnut skin smooth and glowing from a good night’s rest. The skylight in her apartment let in a stream of sunlight that made her silver hair shimmer as it cascaded down her shoulders. She stood in the doorway, relaxed, looking every bit an angel with bed head and silly house shoes. Slowly pocketing his phone to give her his full attention, he cleared his throat, now reassured that staying the night had been the right decision.

Judging by his stunned silence, Nanami was sure she must have looked like a hot mess. I knew I should’ve changed first, but no I just had to listen to my stomach and waltz out here. Who even wears bunny slippers anymore? She cringed inwardly knowing he would never forget this sight, though she had thoroughly misjudged why. Quickly brushing her hair into a more socially acceptable state with her fingers, she fidgeted under his gaze, wishing he would say something—anything—and put her out of her misery. She decided to strike first, unable to stand the silence any longer. “G-good morning! I’m gonna put on some coffee,” she spluttered, “I was also going to make some breakfast too—nothing crazy, of course—would you want any?” She sincerely hoped he would throw her a lifeline and respond, but his eyes were glued to her.

After letting her squirm a bit longer, he rose “There’s no need. I have to head back as there’s an interrogation to conduct. Keep your phone on your person this time. I’ll be in touch… Thank you for your hospitality.” He gave a subtle bow, leaving before she could form a response. Nanami watched him go, a part of her wishing he’d stayed a bit longer.

Brushing off his abrupt departure, she began texting Hitomi to coordinate their joint errand run. Remembering she still had a normal life to get back to.

H: You ready?

N: Yeah, just gonna throw on some clothes real quick

H: Cool. Be there in 15 😊

N: Like... actual 15 or “I just rolled outta bed” 15?

H: … Be there in 30

N: Mmhm~

Deciding it would be more fun to pick up breakfast treats with her friend, Nanami went back into her room to change. She picked out one of her favorite old band tees, some loose ripped jeans, and her favorite chunky sneakers, putting her hair into a ponytail with a fluffy scrunchy. It had been about 20 minutes since Overhaul left when she heard her other phone buzz on her nightstand. Pretending she wasn’t eager to answer, she casually walked over to the phone answering on the third ring.

“Answer on the first ring next time.”

“Wow, well hello to you too, sunshine.” A sigh could be heard on the other line and she would bet money he was already massaging his temples, “What’s so urgent?”

“Have you heard the name Dr. M?”

“Hm… no, doesn’t ring a bell. Why do you ask?” in the background she heard distinct cracking and whimpers. “… Overhaul, why are you asking me this and what is going on in the background?”

“If this interrogation goes well, then soon we’ll both know. Until then, keep your phone on you.” The line clicked. Having to set broken bones before, the cracking noises she’d heard in the background weren’t much of a mystery.

Before she could let her mind wander about the “interrogation”, her doorbell rang. Putting both phones in her bag, she went to the door, seeing through the peephole that it was Hitomi. She opened the door, giving her friend a warm embrace.

“Ready to go?”

“Actually, need to use your bathroom first, if you don’t mind. My bladder and I have not been on the same page lately.”

Chuckling, she let her friend through, “No problem, have at it.”

As Hitomi stepped through the door, her face dropped. “Something’s different.”

Thankfully Hitomi had her back turned to her or else she would have seen Nanami’s dodgy glances as she prayed her friend didn’t investigate further. Getting her involved was dead last on a very long list of things she wanted to do. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s changed,” she laughed nervously.

Hitomi began eyeing the place suspiciously before taking in a big whiff. Nanami watched the scene unfold in slow motion as she was powerless to stop it. Her eyes fell on the pillows and blankets on the couch, then the genkan where her shoes had been displaced by another pair, then—the final nail in the coffin—the set of tea cups that had been cleaned and neatly placed on the counter. Before she could appreciate that he’d cleaned up for her, Hitomi spoke, “… Who is he.”

“N-no one! I mean what are you talking about?”

“I smell…” she inhaled and paused for dramatic effect, “a man.”

“That’s me. I ran through the men’s section of a department store earlier. Got bombarded with samples.”

“The stores aren’t even open yet, you have your best linens folded neatly on the couch, and you have not one—but two—cups out that you only drink your special matcha tea in. Spill. The. Beans.”

“You can’t make me as there is nothing to spill.” Nanami deadpanned, as her phone rang. Judging by the ringtone, she knew it was the one she only used for Overhaul. Shit.

“… You gonna answer that?”

She knew she had no choice as she reluctantly retrieved the offending object, answering the call. She looked down, refusing to make eye contact with Hitomi who was already thinking of a million questions to ask. “Hello?”

“Ok. I know you’re intelligent. So why after I ask you to answer on the first ring do you then wait an additional three rings the next time I call?”

“Oh hey, Mrs. Ito! How are you?”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! I’m doing great as well, thank you for asking.”

“Ok, I’m taking back my intelligent comment.”

“Well aren’t you a hoot n’ a half! But can I call you back later? I’m about to go out on a girl’s day with my friend here.”

“… You’re really bad at this.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re too kind!”

“Text me when you can talk freely. Until then, get acting lessons.” She could hear a slight chuckle under his breath.

“Well that sounds great, I’ll talk to you soon! Oh, and I’ll be sure to put a big ol’ mark in my planner for you, ok? Buh-bye!”

“Wait, that didn’t even cou—” he began to protest as she hung up.

As she was already writing her Oscar acceptance speech for the performance in her head, she confidently pocketed her phone. Though when she glanced back up, Hitomi gave her a pitiful look, “He’s right, you are really bad at this.”

“Ok look, I can explain, I—”

“Hey, if you’re going this far to try and hide him, then I’ll take the hint and wait until you’re ready to tell me. I know you’re not very experienced with dating and all so I’ll give you a break for now… though judging by your glow this morning I’d say someone already came to give you a break, or should I say to ‘break you off’.” She said wiggling her brows.

Nanami narrowed her eyes in confusion for a beat, before she caught on, “What do you—OH NO. NONONO. Nu uh. None of that happened—or ever will happen.”

“Calm down, I’m just teasing. But when it does happen, just let me know if you need any tips. No need to make your first time your last, amiright?” Hitomi said much too suggestively for her liking as she tried to get his voice out of her head.

“Let’s… let’s just go.”

“Anything you want sweetcheeks,” she winked as she went to the restroom before they left.

As they got into the car, Hitomi listed off where they needed to go and decided it’d be best if she went to the post office first. While Nanami waited in the car, she texted Overhaul she had a moment. Almost instantly the phone rang.

“Well aren’t yo—”

“We need to talk.”

[whitefoxed]

Form Contract!

Send “Form Contract!” for our muses to form a magical contract bonding them together! — @algrimthestrong​, sent April 12th 2019, 3:16:42 am Chapter 1

P.S. Alternate verse where Vuhs never met Malekith and he’s speaking a dialect of Alltongue.

Vuhs flinched. He could sense the summoning coming from a distant place, with enough power to bring him there. A frown furrowed his brows. He was in no mood to play such games, he had an organisation to run.

The summons came stronger, striking an impulse for him to heed the call and accept it. Someone, somewhere, was offering deep magic for his services. Why him? There are other foxes… Vuhs froze, recalling his bloodline. A sacred one.

Looking at the blueprints of a new artillery engine on his table, he sighed. Blood was being offered. Tempting things were being offered, he could feel it in his bones. A different kind of hunger had him licking his lip and swallowing.

Fine.

Vuhs disappeared from his office on Earth and reappeared in the sigil, dressed sharply in his full black suit. “What is it, Älgrim Valgoth of Svartalfheim?”

The air was thick with the smell of blood by the time Algrim sat back to survey his work. The symbol had to be drawn precisely as shown in the book, or else the ritual would fail. Pressing a piece of cloth to the wound in his arm to staunch the bleeding, he compared the sigil he’d painted on the stone floor with the original illustration.

Algrim had found the grimoire tucked away in the Library of Sins, its pages stiff and brittle with age. It told of spirits, of demons, of powerful beings bound to do the summoner’s bidding - if one knew how to bind them to his or her will.

Clad in only a pair of loose linen trousers, Algrim gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm. The wound was deep - it had to be, to yield the amount of blood required to draw the magical symbol. He felt lightheaded, weak from the loss of blood, yet determined to see the ritual through to its end, driven by the burning need for justice - for vengeance.

Taking a slow, deep breath to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand, he began to recite the incantation. There was no immediate result, no flickering of candles, no whispers, no drop in temperature, nothing that indicated that his summoning had been successful. For several moments, only the sound of his own laboured breathing filled his ears, until—

The being that appeared in the centre of the sigil looked nothing like Algrim had imagined. A male, human in appearance, dressed in the fashion that was common on Midgard and looking absurdly out of place in a Svartalfheim dungeon.

Trembling with both exertion and excitement, Algrim climbed to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was raw with relief. “You came. You really came.”

He took several cautious steps towards the “man”, but took care not to cross the magical barrier. “I wish to employ your services, lord. I want you to help me kill someone - King Thryme of Jotunheim.” He spat the name like a curse, full of bitter hatred. “In exchange, I offer you wealth—” He nodded at a small wooden chest filled to the brim with rubies, “—the throne of Jotunheim, and—” Carefully, so as not to spill a single drop, Algrim picked up a silver chalice filled with blood - his blood - from the floor and offered it to the fox, “—myself, in any way I may be of use to you.”

The dark elf staring back at him was quite the sight. Sleek and strong, with cheekbones haunted by vengeance and a burning gaze of obsidian. Wafting around him was that alluring scent of offered blood which formed the sigil and dripped still from the elf’s arm. Vuhs licked his lips subtly. There was a difference between normal blood and that which is offered through magic. There was power in belief, one belonging to faith and the realm of ‘gods’. As per his bloodline.

Hunger. This was new to Vuhs, a sensation unlike any other. Of course, it was also his first time being summoned upon. He didn’t think anyone would have, in his time. And from what he heard from his mother… before they separated- it had not been done for generations. Vuhs waited silently with arms folded for the elf to finish exclaiming his appearance and get on with it.

Tilting his head to the left, Vuhs narrowed his eyes at the name. A king- naturally a Jotun from the sound of it- as such, a frost giant from the records he read in HYDRA. They have magic too, he supposed. What he wasn’t sure was if his own strength could compare to said king. Frost giants live much longer than humans- his own age aside, the mortal memories implanted in him were just that. Mortal.

And while he was considering such, the elf was already offering other things, which he merely gave a cursory glance at. Rubies- he could afford himself a chest if he wanted to. Though gems of such size would be hard pressed to find on Earth. He wasn’t very interested. The throne- why would he want to rule somewhere cold and unfamiliar? It wasn’t very alluring either. What did catch his attention though, was the chalice the elf was offering, inciting him to meet that careful gaze. Hm.

Silent moments ticked by as he considered, his silver blue eyes wandering between the chalice and the elf, with nary an expression on his face. Then all the sudden a burst of blue flames roared within the sigil, enveloping the area behind the barrier as Vuhs hair turned white, drifting with nonexistent wind. Ears and tails flared into view, as blue flames lighted up in mercury eyes and an opal claw tapped lightly on the barrier at the chalice.

“For that, and your true name, I can lend you my strength. You will be able to heal any wound in minutes as I guard you. You will have my speed and senses. You will be able to bear the deathly frost of Jotunheim. You can control the elements in your surroundings as I can. You will have my aide in illusion and glamour in your quest. ‘Tis what I will lend you.” He countered.

When neither riches nor the offer of a kingdom to rule over elicited the expected enthusiastic response from his visitor, Algrim was hard-pressed to fight off an encroaching sense of despair. Clearly, his offerings did not suffice. Only the chalice filled with his life blood seemed to be worthy of consideration, though the man’s expression remained unreadable, giving no indication as to whether or not he deemed the offer acceptable.              

Holding the other’s appraising gaze, Algrim waited in tense silence for the fox to reach a decision. The answer to his unspoken question came not in words but in actions, and he barely managed to stifle a gasp when the fox dropped his disguise and shifted into his true form.

As plain as his human appearance had been, as splendid was the fox that hid beneath.

While he had expected his potential ally to smite King Thryme on Algrim’s behalf, the fox’s offer to lend his strength to the elf so he may carry out the deed himself was more than Algrim had dared hope for.

He inclined his head to the fox. “Your offer is more than generous…” Algrim’s tone was one of apology. He was desperate, but not so foolhardy as to blindly accept the deal and place himself at an obvious disadvantage. His own life mattered little to him after losing his wife and children, but if he was to meet his doom, it would be on his own terms. Foxes were sly, mischievous creatures, serving only their own ends. There was no telling what he would get himself tangled up in.

Blood, Algrim would gladly give, but to give out his true name would mean to eviscerate his very being, to give the fox power over him and make himself a tool of his whims. It was a bargain he was not prepared to strike. “Not my true name.” His voice was hard with resolve. “I am afraid, my lord, but this is a price I can and will not pay.” He offered the goblet to the fox, urging him to take it and sample its content. “I offer you wealth, power, and blood from my own veins. Is this not yet enough?”

He was desperate, longing for a chance to avenge his family, but even in his grief Algrim was no fool. Making himself a slave to the fox was not the path to salvation, but to eternal damnation. “Surely there is something else I may offer you instead, some other way this humble elf may be of service to you?”

Polite the elf may be, his tone had Vuhs narrowing mercurial eyes at him. Then at the suspected rejection, the fox huffed lightly, lifting his chin in displeasure. Ears which were angled forwards swivelled to the side with much disinterest, expressing every bit of it as he turned away to pace in a circle within the sigil. “You offer wealth I do not want, a throne which is not yours to give, you think a mere chalice of blood is sincere enough an offering?” Vuhs shook his head haughtily.

Testing and sensing the barrier of magic, he could return forcefully to where he was on Midgard if he wanted. After all, it was only meant to summon him here and keep him from leaving the barrier without permission. Its purpose was met. The blood offering may be the only thing he was remaining in the sigil for. Redolent of power, along with the rest of the blood spilled about the room, was tempting him to stay. But it wasn’t enough for what Algrim wanted.

Algrim wanted Thryme dead, and while Vuhs wasn’t certain enough if he could kill the king and hence offered his abilities instead, imbuing the other with his power meant he also had to keep company for the magic to work. The chalice of blood was worth buying his time, but it was far from sufficient for the risk on his own life even if he went alone to assassinate Thryme. Hence, as much as he lusted after the elf’s offered blood, he could only turn his nose away from it. A bound contract was not to be taken lightly.

Mild frustration frizzled his tails a little. Curling them before him, he preened and smoothed out the fur delicately with his fingers. Vuhs glanced back up at the elf who was so desperately trying to bind him. “There isn’t much I desire. A loyal servant I can fully trust thereafter would be an acceptable offering, but you wouldn’t even give me your name.” Highlighting again his displeasure, the fox remained aloof as he stated what he wanted. For that was the only reason why he demanded it. It was obvious he did not trust the elf’s simple pledge of loyalty and service.

Contractors had a history of trying to cheat their way out of the contract once they got what they wanted.

As expected, Algrim’s refusal to yield to the fox’s demands was met with irritation. The fox’s spurning of Algrim’s offerings, in turn, put the elf in a predicament he had not foreseen. He needed the power the fox had offered him to avenge his family, and though he refused to reveal his true name, there had to be something with which he could persuade the other into consenting.

“One can never be wealthy enough, powerful enough, or wise enough,” Algrim argued. “I offer you both wealth and power - and I will gladly lend my knowledge to you as well. You are correct in pointing out that the throne of Jotunheim is not mine to offer,” he admitted, “but once Thryme is dead, the throne will fall to the one who killed him. You could appoint a regent if you do not wish to rule the realm yourself. Jotunheim may seem like a bleak and barren world, but it has plenty to offer. Ore from the mountains, forests teeming with game, and the Casket of Ancient Winters, one of the most powerful relics you may ever encounter.”

Algrim’s offer would have satisfied even the most capricious business partner. Still, he felt it was not quite enough to tip the scales in his favour. His shoulders were tight with tension and his eyes bright with despair as he watched the fox pace within the painted sigil. “You may call me Algrim,” he added, offering a long-due introduction, though not his true name. “What name do you go by, lord?” That the fox had not yet left was a good sign. It meant there was at least a modicum of interest present, despite his apparent reluctance.

“If you do not want to do business with me, then why not trade a favour for a favour?” Algrim suggested, trying a different approach. “A favour, for which I will be indebted to you until I  can repay it. You help me bring a monster to justice, and I offer you a safe place in exchange - a place here in Svartalfheim to which you can retreat should you ever find yourself in need of a refuge. I will be bound by my word, as is the law of my people,” he added, seeking to reassure the fox.

“What else could you possibly desire, my lord?” Algrim asked, his voice close to cracking as he felt his only chance at vengeance dwindling. “Would you have me disgrace myself, to fall at your feet like a common serf?”

Running his sharp claws through his fur, Vuhs listened to the elf’s appeal. Jotunheim was being sold like potential land. The Casket did draw a twitch from the pointed white ear, but the fox soon recalled what little he knew of it. A powerful relic, nevertheless. But it served his own purposes little. Vuhs continued grooming his tails. He had nine of them, after all.

The introduction of a ‘name’ lifted the fox’s silver gaze from its hooded focus, expressionless. Another offering was brought onto the table. A refuge. A way out. Vuhs’ gaze fell once more on the bright white of his own tails. “I need not a common serf.” He spoke once more after he sensed the other’s whittling confidence. “I need not, a throne that would be contested.” He continued, pausing in between. “I need not, a power that is not mine, however powerful it is.” Looking up again, his combing hand settled atop a tail, lightly resting on the fluffy cushion.

“I need not wealth I cannot spend. Nor a refuge I cannot allow myself to have.” Holding his gaze right with the elf’s, Vuhs gave him time for his words to sink in. “Because like you, I understand vengeance. However, unlike you, your enemy is one and final. Mine is not.” Silver eyes fell on the ancient sigil that the elf before him had found out of desperation, and in it laid all their skill and knowledge possible. Magic was never easy, a sigil was not simply a symbol drawn. It was also obvious the elf before him was not of a sorcerer’s grounding. Time, discipline, calculation and resourcefulness, Vuhs saw that in his summoning.

“You suggest a trade in favour, and offer your knowledge as well. Then, I aid you in the completion of your vengeance, and you, offer your time, skills and service, according to my wishes, till the completion of mine. My abilities as this favour, and the chalice for my time.” The fox lifted his chin with a certain finality, knowing the elf had offered all they could in their beseeching earlier. Vuhs ignored the request for an address.

There was no need to give a name when the deal was not finalised.

The fox bid his time. Silently, Algrim watched him as he stood grooming his tails, as if the action held so much more interest for him than what Algrim had just offered. Frustration coiled in his stomach, adding to the misery he felt deep in his heart, and the crushing sense of despair at seeing the deal he sought to strike slip through his fingers. The wound on his arm, too, had begun to bleed again, warm trickles of blood sliding over his skin and dripping onto the stone floor, but he barely registered it.

The fox’s taking apart every advantage Algrim had cited, squashing it into insignificance with shocking ease, almost shattered what was left of the elf’s composure. Each word had the bite of a knife to it as it sank in deep, shredding his hope to pieces until—

The fox’s mention of an enemy had Algrim perking up his ears. It was only natural that a powerful creature like him had made a few enemies of his own throughout the years, but the fox’s disclosure was still enough to surprise Algrim, as was his confession that he, too, was driven by a desire for vengeance.

Algrim was silent for long moments as he considered the fox’s counter offer. What did he have to lose? Nothing. Everything he loved had been taken from him. If he pledged allegiance to the fox, he would be granted a chance at revenge at least. There was no telling if he would survive such a dangerous quest, even with his strength and abilities enhanced. If he did, though, Algrim would hold up his end of the bargain. A favour for a favour.

“I accept.” His voice was oddly calm, as chill as winter mist. Stepping forward, Algrim went down on one knee, bowing his head in supplication as he lifted the chalice to offer his blood to the fox, urging him to drink.

Vuhs knew he wouldn’t have to wait long, watching as the elf considered his counter offer. Since they were not willing to give their true name, this was as close to a loyal contract he could get. And though he would not admit it, there were times when he felt too drained and exhausted to carry on his plan. He needed someone, someone who wasn’t a doll, a manufactured marionette, someone with brains that could pick up the pieces he missed, so he wouldn’t have to constantly watch his back. When the elf agreed, he would have smiled if it was his old self.

Instead the relief was minimal and he simply nodded, more than aware the probability of success ahead of them. Releasing his tails and walking back to where their barrier met, his hand reached out and allowed out of the barrier, to grasp the chalice. “Let it be so.” Sealing the deal, blood red runes rolled out from where their hands touched, running along their skin and spiralling like constricting snakes towards their hearts. Such was the effect of this ancient sigil and contract. Bearing the discomfort of a weight settling on his frame and sinking in, Vuhs helped himself to the fragrant blood that touched his lips.

Power surged through his veins.

Spreading from his abdomen to the tips of his limbs, it was a novel sensation that had his silver irises shrink to pinpricks. Different from the raw strength of magical power, what he expected to be warm was cold as biting winter, yet rushing like ice shards through the ravine of his veins. Oddly, what should have been painful felt refreshingly right. Like it was something he should have had, since he was born. A power that was originally his.

The barrier fell away. Vuhs swished his tails before they faded from view, the lowered chalice clean as if it never contained blood. His appearance returned to how he was when he first arrived. With a brush of his hand on the elf’s shoulder, Algrim’s wounds disappeared.

“Now, let’s get started. You may call me Vuhs.”

When at last the fox accepted the proffered chalice, Algrim’s shoulders sagged with relief and he let out a long exhale, but the moment was short-lived. From where their fingers touched, a burning sensation started spreading upward, needle pricks that travelled along his arm, into his shoulder, and towards his heart, causing his chest to constrict with pain. Resisting the urge to pull away, Algrim pressed his lips together tightly to let no sound of complaint escape him as he bore the sting of magical runes. Having read about this part of the summoning in the grimoire, he recognised it as the final stage of the ritual. Their deal was binding now, a contract sealed with magic and blood that could not be broken.

By the time it was over, a fresh sheen of sweat had formed on his skin. Algrim rose to his feet, watching silently as the fox consumed his blood. The effect it had on him was instantaneous. The fox seemed invigorated, revitalised, brimming with energy. Though he had made it a point to state his disinterest in Algrim’s offer, Algrim could tell the other was already benefitting from their deal.

His gaze dipped to where claw-tipped fingers curled around the empty chalice, a shiver crawling down his spine at the notion that a part of himself was now inside the fox. When the other touched his shoulder, Algrim felt his pain and exhaustion abate as new strength washed over him in cool, soothing waves. As it would seem, Vuhs had not been exaggerating when he had touted his abilities to Algrim. The deep, bleeding cut on his arm had disappeared, leaving only smooth, healed skin in its place.

“Lord Vuhs.” Algrim bowed his head in gratitude. “How are we to proceed from here?” Was there another ritual that had to be completed in order for the fox to transfer his powers to Algrim? While he was desperate to leave for Jotunheim, rushing into action was not the way to move forward. A quest such as the one that lay ahead of them required thorough planning. Maps had to be consulted, supplies gathered, and precautions taken to ensure the success of their journey. This was his only chance. Algrim would not fail. He could not fail.

“I would be honoured to host you for the night, so we may devise a plan of action.”

Tapping his foot lightly along one of the sigil’s lines, Vuhs lingered in the room where it still attracted him so. “There’s no need to call me Lord now you know my name.” He said upon hearing the address, pointing it out first before continuing methodically, nodding to accept the offer. “I would assume you have maps of Jotunheim and possibly Thrym’s lair, as well as some idea on travelling there from here. If not, we’d have to at least start from there.” Gesturing for the elf to lead the way, Vuhs calmly followed after.

Looking at his summoner, the fox’s features gradually changed, using glamour to mask his appearance once more. Fair skin took on a blueish sheen, gradually shading towards an almost metallic silver hue, while his short hair returned to its white flair, lengthening down loose to his waist. His ears too, tapered longer. Sliding his gaze from the elf to his own hand, Vuhs adjusted the shade of his skin further to his satisfaction. Within mere minutes, the fox was every bit a dark elf apart from his Midgardian garb.

“Tell me more about this Thrym, such as his personality and combat style. Until we have a few executable plans of action, then we can work on coordinating our combat style and get you used to having my senses and strengths. As for illusions and healing, they are techniques which require too long to learn. Therefore as long as I am around, I will perform as you dictate.”

It can’t be said that Vuhs was not rushing for time either. The summoning was sudden, and he still had a lot of work to do. Though he trusted his operations would not fail in the near future, and would even keep his disappearance a secret, he would not wish to risk all his plans and preparations from not returning soon enough. But he accepted this deal with the elf, and would see to it that Algrim finds the result satisfactory. It was his first contract of such sort after all…

“After that however, you have to rest.” Giving the elf a once over, Vuhs pursed his lips. Though his power - especially the new strength he had just absorbed - healed and replenished the elf’s stamina, evoking such magic and the effort to do so must have likely strained his summoner’s mind. Algrim needed rest, of a different kind. “It’s been this long, your revenge can wait another day.” Or a few, depending on how much they had to plan and train. Mildly concerned that the deal’s success would spur the elf to carry on, persuasion slipped from his lips.

As a former general and recently appointed advisor of the Accursed, Algrim was used to wielding authority. Giving orders and directing subordinates had become second nature to him during his many years of service. In Vuhs’ presence, though, he felt almost docile, ready to yield to the fox’s supervision. Vuhs was every bit his senior, perhaps not in years, but certainly in abilities. With Vuhs’ powers to call upon, Algrim was hopeful that the fiend who had made his life a living nightmare could be brought to belated justice.

“Of course we have maps.” Now that he was presented with a task to focus on, he was back in his element. “Jotunheim is a huge realm, a vast world of countless dangers and very few amenities. That the Jotuns have managed to thrive in such a harsh environment should be proof enough of their… superiority,” Algrim admitted bitterly. “As for Thryme’s lair, it is not so much a lair or a cave, but rather a well-guarded citadel. He is a brutal and cunning leader, with his nephew Laufey set to follow in his footsteps.”

Watching Vuhs out of the corner of his eye, Algrim could not help but marvel at the fox’s disguise. He did make a very convincing dark elf – no, not just convincing. Striking. His Midgardian attire, though, was very different from the clothes worn by the natives of Svartalfheim, drawing many a curious glance as Algrim led him though the castle’s twisting hallways. “They are called frost giants for a reason. Their kind relies mostly on their colossal strength,” he explained when Vuhs requested information about Thryme’s preferred style of combat. “The weapons they use are of the primitive variety. War clubs, spears, rocks, fists,” he spilled forth, eager to provide the fox with the information he needed to begin their training. “Stealth and speed will be our best bet for success. A poisoned blade may do the trick, but getting close enough to pierce that thick skin of theirs will be a challenge of its own.”

When they arrived at Algrim’s quarters, he held the door for the other man, waiting for him to enter first before following him inside. “May I suggest you change into something a little less conspicuous, Lo—Vuhs?” Masking his slip-up behind a practised smile, Algrim left Vuhs waiting by the door while he went to retrieve a set of clothes from his wardrobe. He held out a moss-green tunic, a pair of brown leather trousers, and well-worn boots to the fox. “If you are going to stay here with me until we are ready to depart, it is imperative that you try to blend in.” What they were about to do had to be done in secret. The king would not take kindly to Algrim going behind his back, which was why the advisor intended to have Vuhs stay with him instead of giving him a room of his own. It was safer to have Vuhs pose as a friend or lover than risk raising suspicions as to his identity.

“I will rest after we agree on how to move forward,” Algrim promised. Vuhs’ concerns were justified. At the moment, Vuhs’ energy still lingered in Algrim’s system, but that borrowed strength would wear off soon enough.

He pulled a folded map from a shelf and spread it out on his desk. “I know a witch who might be persuaded to help us travel to Jotunheim.” If Vuhs did not want the rubies Algrim had offered him, they might just as well use them to buy passage to Jotunheim for the two of them. “From there, it will be a journey of perhaps three or four days to Thryme’s fortress.” He indicated the route on the map, tracing it with a finger.

For all the dangers Jotunheim represented, Vuhs had an innate sense of superiority to a realm he had never been to. Ever wary of his inner workings, the fox reminded himself to take more caution and heed the elf’s advice. From Algrim’s words alone, he could visualise a sly ruler safely shielded within layers of ancient walls of medieval brute force. All the more cracks to slip through. “Do they have magic?” He found himself asking, another factor to be concerned about, though the frost giants seemed to prefer physical combat.

Entering the rooms without hesitation— the elf had no reason to harm him after all that effort to summon him here— Vuhs raised his brow slightly at the elf’s suggestion. He did not mind having to change outfits, doing as Romans do was standard practice. Taking the clothes, he opened them infront of the elf to double check if he knew how to appropriately wear them before putting them to a side. “I will change later when you rest.” Time was of the essence, and it would be better to finish their initial discussions while Algrim was still present.

Moving to the elf’s side, he studied the map unfurled before them. A swift glance to the side of it showed the map’s legend and scale. Unfortunately, it was not a script he could read. “Explain this. Also, are there other maps? Of our route to the witch, as well as the citadel? If we don’t have the latter, is there someone or somewhere we can buy such information from?” Used to such arrangements, Vuhs’s mind was listing out what he needed to know before Algrim could rest. He fully intended to continue planning while the elf slept. “If possible, I’d like a sample of Jotun hide as well, or at least something similar.”

Times like this, he missed human technology. Spying devices, temperature and bio scans all minimise mission risks. Though he doubted they could maintain functioning condition in Jotunheim climate. He also wanted to know the jotun guards’ shifts and routes. But that would have to come later. The fox did not expect Algrim to have all the details, considering he was but a one man mission before their alliance. If he did, he doubted the elf would even need him around at all.

As for now, he considered the option of poisoning their target that Algrim proposed. The elf who was so focused on revenge would have considered other options already before settling on such a suggestion. Rather than poisoning a blade, wouldn’t poisoning their food be much easier? “As for the poison you suggested, what is it? Or do you not yet have one in mind?” If anything Vuhs was frustrated about, it was the language gap. If he could read, he would simply ask for relevant materials and send the elf to bed.

[lalunaunita]

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 1

I’m very pleased to share that this old WIP is finally done!! I started writing it back in 2018 (I think) and when the WIP Big Bang @wipbigbang revved up for 2019, I knew it was a perfect piece for me to finish. Per the Bang rules, I’ll publish the last chapter on my posting date of August 17th. I’ll be updating every week until then.

This story is based on a 1991 children’s book of the same name by Andrew Helfer. When I heard about it, I thought it was such a great (and cute) plot that I wanted to try writing my own version! Major plot points and storyline are all credited to Andrew Helfer. New story text and new subplots are by me. Copies of the original book are available and the ISBN to find the book is 0307126218. Many thanks to @haveievermentioned for remembering this book and bringing it to my attention.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7    Music Fanmix by @pennywaltzy

Rating: Teen

Summary: All kinds of cats in Gotham are disappearing! When several expensive animals are stolen, Batman's top suspect is Catwoman. But is there more to these thefts than meets the eye?

The Purrfect Crime: Chapter 1

Forty squirming, squealing kids threw popcorn and chattered at each other in the rows below Bruce Wayne at Gotham City’s Circus Charity Night. Charity Night at the Circus had become a tradition in the Wayne household over the last few years. Shortly after adopting Dick Grayson, the young man had requested these circus outings for the children at his old orphanage. Bruce had readily agreed.

He always turned it into an event—playing at an exclusive park, followed by dinner, then the show under the Big Top. Curiously, Dick never attended. Bruce didn’t press him. He knew all too well the pain childhood memories could bring.

Bruce and his date sat wisely out of range of the concessions-turned-missiles. She turned to him, the elegance of her black velvet dress belying her giddy excitement.

“What’s your favorite part of the circus?” Tatiana asked him, tossing her lustrous dark hair over one shoulder.

“The big cats,” Bruce replied. “They’re so gorgeous and powerful.”

“Oooh, must be something of a kinship, I suppose,” she teased, batting her eyes flirtatiously.

Bruce tried not to roll his as he focused his attention back on the three rings below. Tatiana was an extraordinary beauty, just the kind of woman Bruce Wayne should be seen with around Gotham. Unfortunately, she was also an utter bore.

Music swelled and the children quieted as a spotlight focused on the Ringmaster in the center of the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is our privilege to bring some of the finest creatures in nature to you. Watch carefully, and don’t be fooled! Our trainer would have you believe these lions and tigers are tame as house cats, but they are not to be trusted! Remark the ferocious gleam of their fangs and the sharpness of their claws. Please do not tempt their murderous appetites with a stray finger or hand! And now… on with the show!”

The crowd jumped to their feet to get a closer look at the cats, applauding the Ringmaster’s speech. All eyes were on the thick red curtains that led backstage, but minutes went by and no cats of any kind paraded forth. The pregnant silence was interrupted by shouts behind the curtains.

Bruce casually pressed a button on the side of his cell phone and it rapped forth an irritating, high-powered ringtone. He gave an exaggerated sigh for Tatiana’s benefit.

“Hang on, it’s the Board. I’ll be back in a minute. Hello…?” he said, affecting frustration as he pressed the phone to his ear.

Bruce stepped into the aisle, pretending to converse as he quickly made his way out of the stands. He stuck to the shadows, slipping around to the back of the big top. Outside the main tent, dancers, acrobats, and clowns walked to and fro, prepping for their acts or chatting with each other.

The argument had crescendoed; Bruce could hear the Ringmaster desperately shushing whomever was shouting. Bruce hid himself in the darkness between two tall wooden crates. He discovered he was fortuitously close to a seam in the main tent’s canvas. He put his eye to the opening and caught a glimpse of Commissioner Gordon’s familiar face. Commissioner Gordon stood straight as an arrow and looked down his nose at a rather unkempt man in suspenders and a stained undershirt.

“We’ll find your cats,” the Commissioner assured him. “There aren’t that many places in Gotham to hide lions and tigers. Or that many places to sell them. My men are on it already.”

“They better be! Those animals are expensive. If my cats aren’t back by tomorrow, I could lose my job!” the unpleasant man screeched.

The Ringmaster put a placating hand on the man’s arm, but he shrugged it off. Bruce watched as the Commissioner cast an observant eye over his surroundings.

“Now, just to be sure I have everything down correctly, these are the cages for the big cats?”

He indicated four or five surprisingly small wheeled trailers arranged in a semicircle. They looked like old fashioned animal cracker boxes, although they did have the addition of thick rolled draperies that could be let down over the iron bars to fully enclose their tiny spaces. Bruce could see, and even smell, that they hadn’t been cleaned in a while.

“Yes, yes,” the trainer replied impatiently.

“And you did not take them out prior to their performance?” The Commissioner frowned under his moustache as he looked at his notepad.

“No! I already told you that!”

“And you do not have any kind of yard or pen for them to stay in—other than the cages?”

The man didn’t notice the steely glint in Commissioner Gordon’s eye as he shook his head. “They stay in the cages if we aren’t training or performing. Seriously, are you even taking notes?”

“I have to ask to be sure, Sir. Police procedure.”

Bruce grinned as the Commissioner turned away from the man and focused on the Ringmaster, completely dismissing the trainer from the rest of the conversation. The man’s mouth opened and closed a few times and his eyes bulged. But the Commissioner resolutely refused to meet his eye. With an exasperated sigh and a few muttered curses, the trainer walked away to go scold his assistants at the cages.

“As I said,” Commissioner Gordon continued, still standing tall in his most imposing posture, “I already have people looking into all possible locations that can hold big cats. We’re checking all cargo transports out of the city and taking every precaution to find your animals. In the meantime, detectives will be interviewing your employees—to see if anyone saw anything.”

Bruce heard the unspoken notion that the detectives would also be interviewing the employees as potential suspects. The Ringmaster picked up on it too, but nodded frantically.

“Whatever it takes to get George his cats back. He’s difficult at the best of times, but he knows how to train the big cats. We simply don’t have a show without them!”

As the Commissioner made his exit, Bruce leaned back from the circus tent canvas. George might be good at training, but it seemed that he and his staff were terrible at caring for their precious animals. Dirty cages and no room to run or play? He’d had no idea the Gotham City Circus kept their animals in such squalid conditions. Maybe there was a way to put in an anonymous tip… but there was no guarantee an honest city worker would look into the case. Issuing citations wasn’t likely to fix the problem. There had to be a solution, though. He’d think on it.

Later that evening, Bruce cruised the streets of Gotham after dropping off Tatiana at her penthouse. The woman is part octopus, he thought sourly as he recalled his struggle to extricate himself from her amorous embrace at her door. He’d pleaded an emergency board meeting and made tracks, leaving her beautiful pouting lips and sultry eyes behind.

Bruce stopped at a familiar intersection to wait out the red light. He looked up at the building on his left and noticed Commissioner Gordon’s light still on in his office.

Five minutes later, the Batman tapped softly at the Commissioner’s window. The silver-haired man looked up, startled, then smiled. He slid open the window and moved aside to allow Batman to descend on silent feet. The line of his grappling hook whizzed quietly as it retracted into his utility belt.

“You’re up late, Commissioner. Everything okay?” Batman asked as the two shook hands.

Gordon ran a hand through his wavy hair, sighing. “Just working on a weird one, Batman. Cats. Missing cats. With all the missing people in this town, you’d think that would take priority, but here I am, trying to track down animals like a dog catcher. Or a cat catcher, as the case may be.”

“I heard about the no-shows at the Circus. Are you saying there are more missing?”

Commissioner Gordon laughed without humor. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. A lot more, in fact. We’ve gone past ‘hundreds’ and are closing in on a thousand or more. I don’t know if we’re looking at some kind of predator or—”

“Are there signs of predation? Claw marks or other clues of struggle? Any blood, bones?”

The Commissioner shook his head. “No, thank heavens. God knows I’ve got my cat Ruffy secured at home, though. I was letting him out to roam every once in a while, but now I keep him indoors. I’m a little spooked about him getting grabbed.”

Batman nodded, thinking. “That’s a good idea, Jim. If you aren’t seeing any signs of violence, it seems more likely this is theft.”

“That’s where I was leaning too, Batman. I just got a call from the Southminster Cat show; one of the show cats has been taken. The night watchman didn’t see a thing. I’m going to follow up in the morning and talk to the owner. You want to join me?”

“I’ll bring the coffee, Jim. See you there.” With that, Batman stepped onto the ledge of the open window and disappeared into the night.

Commissioner Gordon couldn’t help it; he leaned out to see which way Batman had gone. But just like every other time, he never caught a glimpse of the Batman after his dramatic exit. He sighed. There was nothing more he could do for the case tonight. He closed the window, packed up his briefcase, and headed home, where he hoped Ruffy would still be waiting.

Dick was laid out on a comfortable Italian leather couch, flipping idly through a magazine when Bruce came through the den.

“And how was the lovely Ms. Aurbach?” he asked, lifting his eyes only marginally from the page.

“Grabby,” Bruce replied.

He loosened his tie and removed his cufflinks, dropping them into the pocket of his slacks. Alfred never failed to check his pockets before washing.

Dick closed the magazine and leapt to vertical, an effortless motion his acrobatic background afforded him. “Oh, really? That doesn’t usually vex you.”

“Who says I’m vexed?” Bruce retorted, just as Alfred entered with a tray.

The nascent argument was forestalled by a late night snack the butler had prepared. The trio settled in around a deeply stained and well-polished coffee table. Alfred poured tea from a silver service and passed the cups around.

“I trust Ms. Tatiana is well,” the butler began, “and that the Circus was a delight.”

“Actually, Alfred, someone stole the lions and tigers. But yes, the rest of the night was fine.”

Dick nearly spat out his tea and eyed Bruce incredulously. “The lions and tigers? Seriously? That’s kind of... specific. And heavy. It would be heavy.”

Bruce sipped his tea with perfect form, ignoring Alfred’s approving glance at his lack of slurp. “That’s not all. Tomorrow I’m meeting Jim Gordon to interview the owner of a missing show cat at the Southminster Cat Show.”

“Stolen as well?” Dick raised an eyebrow.

“I hate to make assumptions…”

“I know you do. I’ll wait for your conclusions upon examination of the evidence,” Dick replied, rolling his eyes. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just be on call. You have anything else going on this week?”

Dick shrugged. “It’s summer break, Bruce. Other than a couple hot dates, I’m free.”

“Not too hot, I hope.”

“Alfred’s run background checks on them already. Well-bred young ladies from Gotham Academy, not a rebel among them. I’m just trying to be a normal teenager, Bruce. Promise.”

Bruce popped a water cracker topped with gruyere cheese into his mouth and leaned back, chewing. He swallowed. “I know, Dick. I’m glad. It’s not always easy with me, I’m aware.”

Dick grinned. “Easy is boring, anyway. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Bruce replied.

He stifled the urge to ruffle his ward’s hair. Dick wasn’t a child anymore; he was a young man of sixteen. He was often impulsive, but he had matured greatly over the six years he’d been Bruce’s ward, both as Dick Grayson and as Robin. Bruce was grateful for their friendship and partnership, though he couldn’t deny Dick kept him on his toes. Thank goodness for Alfred’s impeccable timing and mitigating influence.

“Well,” said the butler, breaking the silence as he gathered the tea service and stood, “I’m off to bed. And you should consider the same, Master Bruce. You have an early morning in the office—”

“And an even earlier meeting with Jim Gordon,” Bruce finished, standing and dusting off his knees. “Thanks, Alfred. Good night.”

“Good night, you two.” Dick settled back onto the couch with his magazine as the older men left the room.

[forceprojecdin]

Hero’s Journey of The Mandalorian (Season 1)

The first live action Star Wars TV show The Mandalorian is a master class in 2 elements that are central to the ongoing success of this franchise. One is its expertly woven Joseph Campbell “Hero’s Journey”, the other is the cinema, and how the artful design, cinematography and editing lure the viewer into repeat viewings. The latter has not been see in modern blockbuster movies at this level for a long time. Only possible because George Lucas hand-picked and well trained apprentice Dave Filoni is at the co-helm. Lucas has said if he wasn’t a movie maker, he would have been an abstract painter, and that is one reason his movies are more re-watchable than others. His student is also a visual artist. But I digress, this post will show the Hero’s Journey of season one, of which, Jon Favreau has admittedly studied and admired from Lucas’ work. Bravo F&F! Everything ahead is a spoiler.

Chapter One: The Mandalorian

The premiere is about the Call To Adventure (step 1). Par for the saga. Except, this time there is no usual hesitation, which is known as Refusal Of The Call (step 2). One might think the call to adventure comes from Werner Herzog’s ”The Client” or Carl Weathers’ ”Greef Carga”  characters, who send him on the path of a life changing bounty. While this is the case in part, the true call comes from his conscience, when he is faced with saving the life a child SPOILER .... of the Yoda species, from the attempted infanticide by co-bounty hunter IG-11. 

Before setting off on his true adventure, he receives Supernatural Aid (step 3) from an Ugnaught named Kuiil, played by Nick Nolte. This isn’t the usual “wizard” type, but he is an elder, and in classic myth, especially Indigenous mythology The Elder usually poses a high wisdom, compassion and spiritual understanding, which Kuiil fully possesses as well.

Almost every journey in the saga starts with a shot of our hero over some sort of cliff, and this is always symbolic of Crossing First Threshold (step 4). The cliff is the jumping off point, into the “field of adventure”. Mando is leaving his “known limits” Just like Luke and Ben over the cliff before Mos Eisley, like Jyn and Cassian over the Jedha cliff, Finn over the cliff of a Jakku dune etc. Now it’s Mando riding with Kuiil past cliffs, or looking over the cliff to a guarded western style town, about to find his bounty.

We also get a glimpse into the Belly Of The Whale (step 5) when Mando enters the dark cave to submit the Besker steel he earned for taking the job from “The Client". Here he is ceremoniously awarded a new shoulder piece, made from the sacred steel, and shows his  “willingness to undergo a metamorphosis.” This metamorphosis is represented in full in the coming chapter, when Din literally loses his old armour, which lost it’s “integrity” (which symbolizes him losing his way), to be replaced by new Beskar armour, which like a snake, is new skin. The Road Of Trials (step 6) is expressed in pretty much every episode, like when Kuiil tries to teach The Mandalorian how to ride the big Blurrg creature. In order to  “begin the transformation, often the person fails one or more of these tests, which often occur in threes”. He fails his first few attempts, but aided by his guide, he achieves a connection to the creature, and then successfully mounts it. This connection was also shown in Filoni’s Star Wars: Rebels animated show, with Ezra and a Lothcat, which is also an expression of the oneness of The Force. The oneness is also the end of the journey for the hero, and the  “knowledge” that every hero returns with. But we will have to wait until the finale for that! In the meantime, these are the hints.

*    *    *

Chapter Two: The Child

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” — Joseph Campbell More Road Of Trials when he fails to keep his ship The Razorcrest safe, and has to undergo a trial to restore it. Metamorphic symbolism. The Belly Of The Whale step appears again in form of a cave, and our hero quite literally has to enter it to find his treasure - the egg of a prehistoric style creature that the Jawa’s demand in order for them to give back his ship parts. However what blows me away (aside from the massive spoilery surprise from “The Child”), is that the creature is an homage to the oldest form of cave imagery known. The oft depicted cave bison from prehistoric times, like this one from Niaux Cave in France.

This is also the step known is Meeting The Goddess (step 7). This is the point where the hero experiences a love which is “all-powerful, all encompassing and unconditional” - all three of which The Child shows Din. Like the code that Lucas figured out with the first film in ‘77, this show is embedded with the steepest symbols of mythology to activate it in our DNA’s consciousness. Looking forward to more in the 3rd episode!

*    *    * 

Chapter Three: The Sin

This one is so bad ass (directed by #DeborahChow) that it’s almost beyond words, and might actually be the best representation of the Temptation (step 7) I have ever seen. This step being simply about what material temptations can derail the hero on the quest. Anyways, wow! Mandos flying in on jet packs to save the day in a shot that looks right out of Dave Filoni’s ‘The Clone Wars’. Oh my Force! Anyhow, the significant Hero’s Journey element in this one is that Campbell claims trials come in threes. It would seem this is his second trial of conscience in saving “Baby Yoda”, and sinning against The Way of the bounty hunter code. Of course, the real sin here would be to leave a baby to abuse or even infanticide at the hands of his captors. 

Finally, there is always a danger of taking Campbell’s very spiritual works and improperly distilling down his insights into the simple steps, as presented in charts. He wrote books. Lots of books. Where he constantly emphasized the whole inner spiritual point of the journey. He said, “It is the compassion for the suffering one that awakens the human heart.” The point of the Crucifixion. I digress. The Mandalorian’s heart was opened fully in this episode by compassion for Baby Yoda. I don’t expect this will be that last we see of that, but I can say that his armour and religious code will never be able to contain the love awoken in him.

This would also be the fist inklings of a future Atonement With The Father (Step 9), as Din has clearly rebelled against bounty hunter creed, and the one fatherly figure he thus far in Greef Carga.  In this episode we begin to see his identity being split in two between two creeds; that of the Mandalorian way (to protect Foundlings) and that of the bounty hunter guild

Oh, and big congratulations to the first women director in Star Wars, fellow Canadian Deborah Chow. She seems like the obvious heir apparent Padawan to Filoni. This episode was that good.

*    *    *

Chapter 4: Sanctuary

In this episode, new director Bryce Dallas Howard delivers the most Lord Of The Rings inspired Star Wars yet. The Mandalorian arrives on the sparsely populated forest planet Sorgan, which is actually more The Shire, than Endor. Complete with a serenely Shire-like idyllic village, garden imagery, village radiers (that evoke Frodo’s vision of the Scouring of the Shire by Orcs), and a folky Shire like musical theme by the utterly brilliant composer Ludwig Göransson. What I love about the tone (a word J.R.R. Tolkien loved) of all this, is that it evokes a feeling of the Garden Of Eden. Which I would claim is perhaps among the oldest archetypes we have in mythology, appearing prior to even Egyptian myths in ancient Sumeria.

It seems to me that this part of Din’s tale serves to add layers to the already presented Meeting With The Goddess and Temptation steps. He is tempted from his journey to live a simpler life with Omera, a widowed mother. While I would assume he could find a future home and even state of oneness (which as Campbell states is the point of all this “The hero always returns to show their community they are one”) he has yet to complete his journey which would earn him a place, and return to “Eden.” For now, he is living in the state of ‘Sin’, and will have to heal this separation - which was symbolized when he briefly separated himself from The Child - before he can return to “Eve” and wholeness.  Realizing that neither the village nor the Child would be safe there, the Mandalorian departs with the Child.

*    *    *

Up Next, Chapter 5: The Gunslinger

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 9/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Mentions of sex.

A/N: I cannot express my full gratitude that you’ve read this whole fic. I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed it and I can’t wait to see what I produce for the next one! Much love and appreciation for all of you reading this! <3

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 

There’s something to be said for having a girlfriend who dances. Emma’s definitely agile, and while she’s incredibly fit she’s still soft in all the right places. By now, Killian knows she sleeps in next to nothing and eats junk food as much as possible, with her snacks as fruits and vegetables in order to mislead people into believing she’s some kind of health nut. These are all things he knew before the summer at Camp Hope ended and life after began.

Thankfully, the list of things he knows about Emma just keeps getting longer.

“Not on the one, darling,” he murmurs against her ear, his hand resting on her stomach with her back against his chest. He tenses his fingers momentarily so she chortles in his hold. She’s ticklish, he’s discovered, and has exploited this fact many times over now. And when she’s not on a deadline, it’s so easy to derail any kind of attempt at dance rehearsals.

This studio is different than the one at camp. For one, there’s no issue with the heating and air conditioning, which is good considering it’s been snowing for three and a half days and shows no signs of stopping. But they’re cozy inside the studio space with hours to spare thanks to it being so close to the holidays.

Another difference in the studios is that this one is downstairs from Emma and Ruby’s apartment. The living space had come first, when they’d found the perfect apartment with just the right amount of space and the perfect price tag.

Downstairs, there’d been an empty retail rental big enough to be a studio. It had taken time, and some help from David and Snow (their way of making amends for what they later claimed was a huge oversight in their judgement), but they’re preparing to do a Grand Opening ceremony in two weeks to mark the official start of business. They’ve taken on a few private clients, but soon they’ll have classes and lessons of all kinds. They’ve even found a couple more teachers interested in employment.

With the two women on holiday break from the hotel’s entertainment schedule, Ruby drove up to Storybrooke to spend some time with Granny and Mulan. Already, she’s been able to go see her family and girlfriend more than expected since moving out of Boston.

That leaves the apartment free for Emma and Killian to spend their own time together. Today, with the snow continuing to thwart any plans they may have made, they’re down in the studio. The front of the building is all windows, and looks in at the space where Ruby or Emma will hold classes for groups of people. There are two slightly smaller spaces, however, and one of them is windowless, a line of mirrors against one wall, and a solid door so no one can peek in.

It’s not that anyone would be doing so today, of all days. Again, with the studio closed and the place to themselves, there’s no chance anyone will walk in on them. That’s a good thing, too, when Emma promptly abandons the steps to slide down Killian’s body, taking his sweatpants down as she goes. Thankfully, they’re near enough the wall that he leans forward, bracing his left forearm on the mirrored surface and reaching down to rest his hand on the back of her neck just as she engulfs him in one slick slide.

He had no idea the sex could get better, but he’s never claimed to know everything.

Afterwards, when they’re both satisfied and sprawled on the floor, Emma bundles up one of their shirts for Killian to use as a pillow before resting her cheek on his chest. Her breath ruffles the hair that’s slowly growing back, and he feels the way she smiles as she must notice the same thing. With wispy touches, she traces along his chest, around a nipple, and down his stomach. Her body starts shaking with mirth as Killian groans. It’s been five minutes, and yet his body already wants to start again. She’s brilliant at eliciting such a response from him.

“Darling, we need a bed if you wish to go for another round. And water. I need to rehydrate after that.”

She chuckles out loud this time, lifting herself to a sitting position next to him with one hand resting on his stomach. “Good idea. Maybe some food, too. Oh! D’you wanna make pancakes?”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

She grins, her eyes crinkling up as she does. Her hair is an absolute tangle, the last of the sweat still drying at her temples, but she looks even more beautiful every time he looks at her. “Come on, sailor.” She stands up, holding out a hand to help him up.

“Now, why does this feel awfully familiar? But I seem to remember being fully clothed the first time we did this.”

At mention of their disastrous first meeting, Emma throws her head back and laughs. He smiles as he watches her, taking in the relaxed stance despite her total lack of clothing. He lines up the images in his mind of that first memory of her hovering over him, her face pinched in annoyance, her lips pursed as she tried to coax him off the ground. How long ago that night feels compared to where they are now.

With one more bracing breath, Killian sits up, taking her offered hand and helping to gather their clothes. They’ll clean later, top to bottom, as they did with the camp studio. For now, however, he wants to make her some hot chocolate and help her with the pancakes. They slide on only what’s necessary, and then Killian sends her on her way up the back entrance while he gathers the rest of their discarded clothing. He pauses before he shuts off the lights, looking at the man that stands in the mirror and smiling. If he could go back to May and let his past self in on the secret, he may have been less reluctant to go to camp, even if it all seems surreal.  

He never figured dancing would become something he did on the side. To his surprise, Regina had followed through with the offer to sign Killian on as a part-time entertainer, even after she learned that he was a total amateur, taught only in the weeks leading up to their performance. Twice now, he’s danced on their performing nights, once with Emma and once with Ruby. They’ve even started teaching him a few new dances that they’ll start using after the New Year begins so he has more than a single Mambo in his repertoire.

It was all a whirlwind after the summer ended at Camp Hope. He and Emma had a week in the city together before she and Ruby began hunting for a new apartment. He helped any way he could, but mostly he was happy to be able to take Emma out on dates after their initial return. When she officially relocated to Portland, he weighed his options for a couple weeks before deciding it was also time for a change of scenery for him.

But instead of moving to Portland with Emma, he went further. One weekend in October before the hotel job officially began, when she was tied up with planning meetings with Ruby and Regina, Killian drove to Storybrooke. He took David and Snow out to dinner, and informed them he wanted to move to town, and that he’d like to offer his services for maintaining the camp.

It was awkward, at first, with David. Somehow, the entire time they talked, Killian was sure the man was going to forbid him from seeing Emma, like Killian was a suitor for David’s princess daughter, but the demand never came. The dinner helped to smooth over the last rough edges from the incident over the summer, and it helped that they got to see how dedicated he was to helping around the camp – that he intended on staying in Emma’s life.

After seeing what Killian could still do as far as repairs and maintenance to the cabins, the tension eased even further. When the spring hits, Killian will go to camp again to help Marco, their lead wood-worker, to make some renovations. He’s discovered that he works wonderfully with the older man, even if his adult son, August, can be a bit much sometimes.

Killian shakes his thoughts free, finally extinguishing the lights and locking up the studio before jogging up the steps. He heads straight to Emma’s room to drop their clothes and tie on his robe, smiling for what feels like the millionth time today when he sees Emma’s missing from the hook.

The pancakes end up taking a little longer than he or Emma intended, primarily because she looks too tempting in her robe, standing there mixing batter as she hums along to whatever song is playing from the radio in the kitchen. He presses up close behind her, finding a spot just above her ear as he inhales.

“Something smells delicious.”

“I haven’t even started cooking them, yet.”

“I’m not talking about the pancakes,” he says, moving forward to nuzzle the side of her face.

Her smile grows, and she spins around to kiss him, then – fiercely and fondly all in the same move – until she breaks away. Her eyes search his face as her hands rub up to his shoulders and back down.

“What?” There’s something there behind her expression, but she doesn’t look sad or upset, so he knows the answer can’t be bad.

“I’m just… happy. Still surprises me sometimes.”

With a sweeping look of his own, he gives her a small smile. “Aye, love. Me too.”

She leans up, then, kissing him again, letting it quickly morph from a tender moment to one filled with passion. She has him backed up against the table in no time, one hurried “To hell with the pancakes,” thrown out for good measure as she takes control of the kiss. Their robes are pushed off to the side, dropped to the floor like their clothes were earlier, and they truly put the kitchen table to the ultimate test of how much weight and activity can take place on top of it without collapsing.

Killian makes a mental note to thoroughly clean the kitchen when they’re done, as well.

With one kind of appetite filled once more, they finally get down to the business of making their very late second breakfast. The rest of the day is spent on the couch in their pajamas, fuzzy blankets wrapped around the both of them as they catch up on whatever is on her Netflix queue.

It’s been six months since they met, and five since things took a turn for romance, but Killian’s mind wanders away to what comes next. It’s those thoughts of the future that follow him into his dreams, and he wonders what kind of ring Emma might like best.

-x-

“Killian’s going to ask me to marry him,” Emma says quietly into her phone. The screeching response is loud to her own ears, so she’s glad she’s sitting in the living room and far away from the man in question, soundly sleeping in her bed.

It takes Ruby just a couple seconds to calm down again before she starts her line of questions. “Wait, did you talk to him about it? How do you know this?”

“So, Killian talks in his sleep. Not often, and most of the time it’s total nonsense, but I was just dozing off last night when he grabbed my hand and asked me what kind of ring I want him to get. Completely asleep, dead to the world, and he just told me he wants to marry me.”

He never talked when they were sleeping together at the camp. It wasn’t until about a month of actually dating him that he first babbled some words at her as she was waking up to make breakfast at his apartment. Last night was the clearest he’s ever spoken to her in his sleep, though, as if the message defied being garbled by sleep.

Once, the very thought of getting married would cause her chest to constrict in panic. Now, however, she has that feeling you get when you’re trying not to laugh while speaking. As it is, she can’t fight the blissful smile stretching across her whole face.

“And what kind of ring should I tell him to get when he asks?”

“His subconscious has already ruined part of the mystery. Let it be a surprise. I trust you to know what I like.” “And you’re not freaking out?” “You know, I would’ve a couple months ago. Probably right after we slept together I still would’ve run away. But now,” she pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe how she’s feeling. She wants to run, all right, straight down an aisle with Killian waiting for her at the end of it.

“Now it’s just right?” Ruby finishes for her.

“Exactly. Okay. Merry Christmas and all that, in case I don’t talk to you tomorrow. Send my best to Mulan, and tell Granny thanks for the cookies. We have been steadily working our way through them since we opened the package.”

“We already finished ours, honestly. And same to you and Killian. You guys coming up tomorrow or Christmas Day?”

“Tomorrow, as long as the roads are clear. I think the snow was due to stop last night.”

“Good. Drive carefully. Try not to have sex on everything.”

“Too late,” Emma says. Chortling as Ruby starts squawking again on the other line. “Okay, bye!” She ends the call before she gets hearing damage in her ear, still chuckling to herself as she stands up from the ball she’d curled up into on the couch. With a long stretch and yawn, Emma makes her way back to the bedroom where Killian is still sleeping.

She tilts her head as she looks at him from the doorway, his face eased of any expression, his breathing soft and even. His brace and prosthetic are sitting on a shelf she installed especially for him, and his hand rests on the spot she vacated in her need to bubble over with her secret just a bit ago.

Once, Emma found Killian sleeping on the side of a trail, and the thought of that shared memory from the day before makes her snort. The noise causes Killian to stir, and he blinks his eyes open to search for her.

“Coming back t’ bed, love?”

“Yeah, be right there,” she tells him, turning once to go use the bathroom and get a glass of water before she curls up with Killian again. She knows that with the late hours they kept the night before and all their strenuous activity, they’re likely to stay in bed all morning if they can. It is Christmas Eve-Eve, and they have nowhere to be today.

There’s still a nervous flutter in her belly as she climbs back into the bed, back into the sleepy embrace Killian bestows upon her after she’s situated under the covers. She rests with her head on his shoulder, his arm loosely wrapped around her back, and thinks about how much life has changed since this time last year. For one, her bed was definitely empty. And for another, her bed was in Boston, her heart locked away, her future uncertain.

Now she’s snuggled to a man that helped her move this bed into this very room, with her heart next to his, and she’s happier than she ever imagined she could be. And now, apparently, he wants to marry her. It takes a lot of effort to not let the giddy laughter erupt once more, and she focuses instead on the other developments that have taken place to get her mind off the elephant in the unconsciousness.

When she moved to Portland, Emma wasn’t sure what was going to happen with her relationship with Killian. They’d barely made it past a third date before she and Ruby signed a lease for this place, so there was a lot she and Killian hadn’t been able to discuss yet. She knew she loved him, and that he loved her. And that alone was a shock, still. Of all things Emma was expecting from camp this year, falling in love in such a short period of time was not one of them.

Though they hadn’t been together long, that didn’t make Emma any less sure of her emotions. She kind of figured when she was willing to invite him to her cabin that night after their performance that it had to be something bigger than a one night stand.

And then came the end of camp. Killian and Liam both stuck around after all the guests checked out to help out any way they could. Killian explained later that he felt he owed it to David and Snow for not decking him on the spot, and he wanted to give them back something for all they gave to him. Even after the studio was cleaned and locked up for the season, and her car packed to the brim with all their gear, he still stuck around.

There were several jobs that Killian was perfectly fit for, given his background in building things, and he helped Leroy make some repairs, helped Marco fix up some of the furniture in a cabin where he hadn’t had time to update it yet, and he helped David with anything the man even hinted at needing help with. Sure, they snarked their way through any and every job they did together, but Emma could see at the end of their clean-up week that David was fighting smiles when Killian made a joke.

When she moved, Killian took the initiative to go make solid amends with her brother and sister-in-law. She was busy with rehearsals for an upcoming show at the hotel, but Killian assured her he would be fine, that he would backtrack and spend the night in Portland with her after dinner was completed. It was still nerve-wracking to wait around for news of that dinner, however. Almost worse than waiting for Regina when she and Ruby went to sign their contracts.

Of course, he surprised her in the best way possible when he told her he was moving to Storybrooke.

“I don’t ever want to make you choose between visiting me, and visiting your family. So I’m moving to where they are. David and Snow have even offered to lease out their old loft to me until I find a place of my own.”

The loft was a first home on their own for all of them, at one point or another. After Ruth passed away and David and Snow moved out to her old farmhouse, no one could see fit to let go of the apartment, so they sublet it during the summer months and kept it, just in case. And now, full circle, Killian was living in it. Because they hadn’t really talked about the future or what comes next between them, he’s just been nestled there until further notice.

It does make it really handy when she has a week off and she can hop up to see the Nolans. She stays with Killian and gets to see everyone for days on end, which is just about the most settled she’s felt since Ruth first took her in.

Killian mumbles in his sleep, turning to press his nose against her forehead, barely kissing the skin before he falls back to sleep once more. Emma wonders if they ever truly relaxed at camp, given how much more comfortable they seem to be now that it’s all said and done. Not that it really matters, since it all worked out, but she wonders what she would’ve done had her family truly banished her. She wouldn’t have let them. She shouldn’t have left like she did – especially without giving Killian a way to contact her – but she would’ve made sure it all worked out this way no matter what.

Her boyfriend’s budding friendship with her family is all just a bonus. As is her own slow-building relationship with Liam. Just as Killian experienced pushback with David, Emma had some problems getting along with Liam right off the bat. She’s pretty sure he was just looking out for Killian, but it took a heated conversation to turn it around. He’d been touting how he waited to start courting Tink until after camp was finished and they had time to get to know each other.

In one instance, it was a lovely lunch at Killian’s apartment in Boston right after she moved to Portland. In the next, the brothers were angrily talking over one another about morals and propriety and she thinks there was something about disrespect? She lost track quickly. She just remembers standing up between the two of them and telling them to both shut the hell up so they could talk it out like adults or take it out back like children.

It took some extra rum and whiskey, and another beer for her, but they hashed it all out that night. Liam is, as she guessed, incredibly protective of his younger brother. And changes had taken place really fast in their lives. She was the force that was taking Killian away from Liam, though she didn’t know that at the time.  When Killian moved, she made a promise to Liam that she would keep on Killian to call and FaceTime with his brother, but she’s never had to remind him once in the last couple months.

It helps that Liam comes up to Storybrooke once or twice a month on the weekends to visit Tink, so that the brothers don’t ever feel truly separated. And it also helps that Liam has seen the full turn-around in Killian from the beginning of the summer. Now, when Killian has a glass of rum, he stops at one. Full bottles are not a rarity anymore. In fact, since he moved, she’s pretty sure the same bottle of rum has been in his liquor stash.

After spending most of the morning doing absolutely nothing, Emma finally shoos Killian out of bed so she can get her laundry done and pack for the week they’re staying in Storybrooke. He helps by cleaning almost the entire apartment while she works on her task, helping to load up her laundry basket when it’s all done and bring it down the hall to her bedroom.

They make dinner together, a simple meal of spaghetti since there’s nothing left in the fridge. They make hot cocoa again after they’ve cleaned up from their meal, settling on the couch to watch Christmas movies until bedtime. She’s a little sad that the apartment is mostly bare of decorations. They put up a few small ones, but no tree this year.

First, neither she nor Ruby will be home to enjoy it on Christmas day, so what was the point. And second, it didn’t fit in the storage space located outside their door, so Emma reluctantly kept it in Storybrooke this year. So while the urge to decorate simmers in her right this very minute, it’s not like she even can. She tides herself over with a reminder that there will be a tree at David and Snow’s place, and she’ll appreciate that one to the fullest.

The drive up the coast is about what Emma was expecting it would be. Enough of the snow has melted down that it’s not treacherous, but it’s not a quick and easy drive, either. Because of this, they end up arriving at the town line about an hour and a half beyond what they were hoping for.

“We’ll just come straight out to the farmhouse,” Emma says to Snow on the phone.

“No, honey, go to the loft and settle in a bit. We can wait. Dinner’s not for hours, still. We understand.”

Even though she protests one more time that she wants to see them, and sooner rather than later, Snow still insists they go do what they need to at the loft first. Maybe if she wasn’t so tired from the constant vigilance on the trip up, she would’ve caught the note in Snow’s voice letting her know something was up.

But because she is that exhausted from the drive, she’s still completely blown away when Killian shoulders open the door to the apartment and they’re greeted with a puff of warm air and the scent of cinnamon instead of the chilled exterior they were expecting to come back to.

The whole place is decorated like Snow and David used to, with lights hanging from the exposed beams and railing of the loft above. The lamps suspended above the breakfast bar have tinsel wrapped around them, and the lights switched to red and green – something that used to absolutely delight Emma when she used to come over around the holidays. The one winter she was living here, they did the same thing, and that’s probably exactly why they did all this now.

“Surprise!” Snow says as she rounds the tree – Emma’s tree – set up in the corner by the bathroom, placing an ornament and sprucing as she goes. Her sister-in-law beams as she looks at Emma’s wonderment, and she finally remembers to close her mouth and push Killian through the door when David snorts from upstairs.

“We thought we’d give you a true Storybrooke welcome,” her brother says as he comes down the stairs, grabbing Emma’s suitcase and moving it to the side so he can shut the door behind the two of them. He helps Emma with her coat, taking Killian’s as well and hanging them on the hooks by the door. Only then does Emma remember how to function, to slip off her snow boots and take off her hat and gloves, stashing them in the appropriate places, only vaguely aware of Killian doing the same beside her.

After that, her only goal is to hug David and Snow. She starts with her brother, as he’s closest, and then to Snow who is painstakingly placing tinsel on the tree, making sure each and every strand looks perfect. “We were going to wait,” Snow explains, opening her arms and accepting the tight hug Emma gives her. “But we also wanted to surprise you once the drive kept getting longer and longer. We had plenty of time.”

There are even two stockings hung from screws in the brick wall, hung with twine so they rest just at the height they’d be at if there was a fireplace and mantel here. Hers is old and worn – the one that Ruth made for her when she first came to live with the Nolans – but Emma can see that the purple thread that spells her name has been refreshed with some glittery yarn accents. And now, one adorned with Killian’s name hangs next to it. She sees that he’s finally moved, as well, his fingers gliding along the delicately embroidered red.

“Look inside,” Snow urges, going to stand with David as the other two stand in awe of their stockings.

Killian casts one glance Emma’s way, lifting his eyebrow in question and she shrugs in response. In unison, they reach into the stockings and pull out small items wrapped in tissue paper. The item from hers feels like fragility, and she’s not mistaken when she unwraps the milky glass of a hand-blown ornament shaped like a swan. It’s likely by someone in town, and Emma makes a mental note to ask who so she can thank them in person, but her gaze is caught by Killian’s ornament.

It’s clearly one made by Marco, the handcrafted carving too detailed and precise to be done by anyone else, and she thinks it’s just a tall ship until Killian laughs once, finding the little pirate flag attached. Clearly, Marco had wheedled Killian’s love of ships and pirates out of her boyfriend at some point during their work together. She imagines he must’ve spent weeks working on this one ornament and adds a second trip to their thank-you-tour for the days following Christmas.

“Thank you,” Emma says as she turns to David and Snow. “For all of this.” She gestures to the apartment in whole, from tree to lights to stockings.

“We just thought it would be nice for your first Christmas back to feel as close to home as possible.”

She just barely stops herself from crying, but it’s a close thing. And now, with the ornaments, it’s not just Emma’s first Christmas, but both of theirs.

That night, Emma watches the lights stretch and twinkle as her eyes grow heavy. She and Killian are wrapped around each other, the blankets tightly tucked around them to keep out the December chill. She stares at everything they kept lit, watching some strands cycle through their programmed flashing and dancing.

Knowing that Killian is likely to ask her a very important question soon, Emma lets herself daydream about what a future with him will look like beyond the new year, or even the next one to come. If she squints just the right way, the loft transforms into somewhere bigger, and theirs. With rooms to fill with decorations and no landlords. She sees little shoes lined up by the ones they would keep at the door, and a little girl balanced on Killian’s feet as they dance together in the living room.

The image is so startlingly clear that Emma almost declares that they start trying right now, but she settles for slowly coaxing Killian back to full wakefulness, initiating lovemaking so sweet that her heart almost bursts with happiness somewhere in the middle, let alone the end that leaves her sweaty and panting and satisfied but craving, as always. He gives her everything she asks for and more, only letting himself chase release when he feels she’s been thoroughly pleased, and he kisses her tenderly after they’ve both cleaned up and crawled back into bed, whispering his love and merry wishes as they both drift off together.

A few days after the most perfect Christmas Emma could’ve ever imagined, she gets roped into making breakfast with Snow while David and Killian go out in search of more hot chocolate packets. When they come back, it might be her imagination but David’s eyes look a little misty. If Snow notices at all, she doesn’t say anything, and David must not share with her over the next couple months, because her sister-in-law is notoriously terrible at keeping secrets.

In the end, Killian hands her a ring of a different kind first, to a grand Victorian that she used to admire every time she drove by it, close to the water and large enough for her own practice space and a workshop for Killian. The other ring comes later, when they’re lying in bed together a year to the date after their first performance. Their future unfolds in the facets and sparkle, in the way Emma says yes after she slides to kneel on the floor in front of him.

Their first dance as husband and wife is definitely not a Mambo.

[thedarkrose17]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum Characters: Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Eventual Relationships, Accidental Baby Acquisition Summary:

The first thing Prompto wakes up to is concerned voices and someone fussing or whining.

It takes a few moments to sit up, adjust in the tent and glance around. It’s just Ignis, Gladio and a fussing baby. He blinks and looks again. The baby wasn’t here last night. ☆ ☆ ☆ A.k.a The astrals get tired of Prompto and Noctis' pining and decide to try and get them together

Update yay!

Read it on the link or under the cut :)

Prompto wakes up later than usual, he must have been exhausted he figures. He yawns and opens an eye to find Solis fast asleep against him and Noctis practically snoring against him due to his sleeping position.

He blushes and gently brushes some of Noctis’ fringe from his face with a soft sigh. He smiles, tempted to kiss his forehead. He almost does before he gets too nervous and quickly retreats from the bed, baby son in tow.

“Afternoon.” Ignis speaks up as Prompto steps outside still in his pjs. He practically squeaks at Ignis and Solis smiles before jamming a fist into his mouth.

“W-What time is it? I should have ran today.” Prompto asks, securing Solis in his arms.

“Two in the afternoon.” Gladio replies, glancing up from his book. “You sick? You’re usually up earlier than that.”

Prompto pales and groans.

“Noct woke me up super early with the baby. Just tired I guess. Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

“We tried several times.” Ignis replies as Prompto sits in on of the plastic chairs outside the caravan.

“You was cuddling up to Princess.” Gladio adds making Prompto choke on his own breath.

“Perhaps you should change.” Ignis states, quickly changing the subject matter to save Prompto from choking.

Prompto glances down noticing his vest and boxers and turns crimson. How he’d forgot he wasn’t ready was a mystery.

“Um...Yeah can someone take Sol?”

“Bring him over here.” Gladio says with a smile. He’s always been a natural with kids, he’s had experience with his little sister after all.

Prompto carefully gets up, handing the baby blonde over to Gladio before heading back into the caravan.

“You’ll be lucky if they confess before you turn five.” Gladio mutters to Solis who grabs his hair and tugs.

* * * Prompto changes quickly and heads back out to the others and after a few minutes a groggy but dressed Noctis comes out and joins them.

Ignis gives them their late breakfast which is as expected cold but the boys don't mind. Solis watches them from Gladio’s lap, beaming when one of his parents looks over at him. Yep this baby was going to be the death of them.

Gladio adds to that by smirking and attempting to make Solis wave at them, the duo soften and play the game right back as they wave to their baby boy. Said baby smiles brightly and wriggles excitedly making the boys laugh a little.

* * * All of them need a bath.

Noctis showers first then after he's done he waits until everyone else is done to offer to bathe Solis. Mostly because he has no idea how to go about it.

“He's far too small for the shower. Use the bowl.” Ignis says, gesturing to the empty washing up bowl in the sink.

“With dish soap?” Noctis asks, holding Solis.

Ignis sighs and Gladio rolls his eyes.

“Plain water for now.” Gladio replies. “Warm. Not too hot.”

Noctis carefully heads over to the sink, running the water.

“We'll get the proper supplies later but this will have to suffice for now.” Ignis says glancing over at Solis.

Noctis checks the water and turns it off. He glances over at Ignis and looks lost. Ignis heads over and helps prepare Solis for the bath before Noctis carefully places him into the bowl.

Solis whines looking unsure of his first bath at first but Noctis calmly talks to him trying to reassure him.

“Ok what do I do?”

Ignis hands over a washcloth and carefully dips it into the water before gently helping wash the squirming baby. Said baby wails, still unsure of his first bath so Noctis decides to do something he knows Prompto would do, sing.

He sings a Lucian lullaby to Solis who slowly begins to stop crying and starts to stare at him in awe almost. Noctis is oblivious that the others are too and that a freshly showered Prompto is staring too, jaw dropped.

Noctis continues before booping Solis on the nose with a smile when he finishes before he realises the others are staring. He blushes and looks awkward.

“W-What?”

“Nothing. Just surprised is all.” Ignis mutters, finishing up helping bathe Solis.

* * * They drive up to Lestallum fairly soon after, Prompto curled up fast asleep in the front, Noctis and Gladio are on baby duty.

Solis clings to Noctis, sometimes wiggling a little in Noctis’ arms making little noises to himself as he wiggles.

Today Solis is wearing a onesie with a hood and his feet covered, it’s a rather adorable black Chocobo one Prompto bought and dressed him in, Noctis can’t complain.

His tiny foot kicks gently Noctis’ arm making Noctis glance down at him, asking if he’s ok. Solis yawns in response and bleps moments later making Noctis smile.

Gladio glances over and smiles before looking up at Noctis moments later. “So far he’s more behaved than Iris was. She kicked me and wailed whenever I held her for a month.”

Noctis snorts and gently rocks Solis. “I’d cry if some giant loud eight year old was holding me.” he jokes, Gladio flicking his forehead moments later with a smirk.

“Like you would have held her. You were five and thought girls had germs.” Gladio replies. “Still not out of that phase yet.”

Noctis rolls his eyes and looks at Solis. “Just never really liked girls or got why people liked sex. I used to think something was wrong with me in high school.”he mutters.

“Oh yeah Iggy found you in tears in your apartment.”

Noctis pouts a little and sighs. “Not my proudest moment. I never thanked him fully for dealing with that. We just figured out I was ace and gay then I just passed out against him. I think the whole thing drained me.”

“You did thank me.” Ignis pipes up.

“I did?”

“You was half asleep when you said it.”

Noctis blinks. Honestly that would explain why he doesn’t remember.

“Still thanks for that.”

“No need to thank me.” Ignis smiles softly.

* * * They fall into a comfortable silence the rest of the drive, just listening to the music and Prompto quietly humming along to it.

Prompto gets up and turns around to speak to Gladio and Noctis and also coo at his baby. They’re talking about Kings Knight when Gladio sneezes loudly making Prompto and Solis jump.

Solis’ makes a startled expression which honestly makes Noctis laugh by how funny it looks. Said baby ends up crying seconds after making Noctis quickly stop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he says quietly to Solis, stroking his cheek and looking guilty. Seconds later he hears a rather loud noise, glancing up at Prompto before speaking up.

“Prompto!” he cries, pulling a disgusted face.

“It's not me!” the blonde cries, looking over at Solis. “It's him.”

“Oh yeah blame the baby.” Gladio adds.

“I swear it's not me! It’s coming from the back!” Prompto huffs, looking over at Solis again when it stops, the baby looks startled, blue eyes turned a shade of pink and filled with tears. That makes Prompto pale and stare but he doesn't want to draw attention to it, maybe he's hallucinating. “Yikes how can someone so tiny make a noise that loud?”

It takes Noctis and Gladio a little longer to believe it. Calling bullshit before said baby starts to wail immediately after.

“Ew....Could you wait until I'm not holding you next time? ” Noctis mutters making Prompto snort.

You’ve changed his diapers and this is gross?” Gladio asks in disbelief.

“Aw don’t make him feel bad dude, he’s probably gassy...Blame Gladio’s monster sneeze for jumpscaring it out of him. Plus could be waay grosser just saying.” Prompto gently tickles Solis and coos at him. “Aww It’s ok my little bean…It's just you….Um...Random question but do babies normally get scared over their own gas?”

“Never call our son a bean again.” Noctis says, sounding offended making Prompto snort.

“Not like you've done it loads in the car...Can't decide if it's worse with the roof up or down.” Gladio pauses before nodding at Prompto's question. “Some do.”

The royal turns crimson and huffs. “One time! Plus he’s like right on my arm! I've never done it on anyone!”

“He’s wearing a diaper.” Gladio replies. “Babies do this.”

Noctis grimaces.

“You've been his age once Princess.” Gladio mutters. “You've been this “gross” once.”

“Plus I mean you've made the air unbreathable in the car more than once. Just no one knows it's you unless it's a SBD or they look at your face. You're not subtle. Sol seems to be the complete opposite.” Prompto says.

Noctis looks mortified, trying to sink into the leather of his seat, his face pure red.

“Guess Sol takes after you then.” Noctis replies still a little embarrassed, making Prompto turn red. He feels a tad smug for making the blonde blush honestly.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You woke yourself up once with yo-”

“Can we please change the subject matter to something less juvenile?” Ignis pipes up with a sigh, reaching for his can of Ebony and taking a drink.

Prompto quickly turns back around and sits down before speaking up again.

“Ok soo what’s our plans when we get to Lestallum?” Prompto asks quickly changing the subject.

“We’re meeting up with Iris.” Gladio replies. “Stocking up and staying in a hotel.”

“We’ll have to do hunts and stuff for money at some point...Right?” Prompto asks.

“Certainly but for now we should be ok. If we have to, we’ll see if Iris can babysit Solis.” Ignis replies.

“...You sure that’s ok?” Noctis asks. “We don’t know what he’s like without us.”

“Fortunately we won’t find out immediately.”

“Yeah.” Noctis replies, relief easy to hear in his voice. He glances down at Solis, finding him yawning. Long car rides make him sleepy too.

The duo decide to take a nap for the rest of the journey moments later.

* * * By the time they reach the hotel, Solis is in a makeshift baby sling around Noctis’ chest. Noctis and Solis are just about awake maybe more so when someone rushes at Gladio.

“Gladdy!” a familiar voice yells lunging at his waist and cuddling the shield. Said shield grins and ruffles her hair.

He practically lifts her off her feet when he hugs her making the teenage girl laugh a little as she hooks her arms around his neck.

“Missed you kiddo.” he says with a smile.

“Missed you too.” she mutters.

Gladio carefully puts her down after a few moments and she dusts off her skirt despite the fact that it's clean and doesn't need it.

She then fixes her hair the best she can before welcoming the others with a hug. She goes to hug Noctis before pausing the moment she spots the baby.

“Aww~” she coos with a smile on her face, glancing at baby Solis. “...You didn't steal a baby from someone...Right?” her face drops, looking worried.

“Long story but no.” Prompto replies. “He's Solis...Solis...We didn't talk about last names.”

“Argentum-Lucis Caelum.” Noctis mutters to him, Prompto blushes a little and nods. It feels special hearing their last names together, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He didn't expect a double barrel name and boy is it a mouthful but he feels like it fits Solis.

“Hi Solis~” Iris coos, gently offering a finger for Solis to grab which honestly he grabs the moment it's in reach. “I'm Iris, Gladdy's sister.”

Solis coos and kicks out a foot against the sling he's in before releasing Iris’ finger and yawning. Noctis smiles when he hears Iris gasp out how that was so cute and goes to stroking Solis’ cheek.

“I'll go secure us a room.” Ignis speaks up, heading into the hotel lobby.

“Ask if they have any cribs.” Noctis adds as Ignis walks in.

“Oh em gee, it's gonna be his first hotel stay.” Prompto mutters, glancing over at the little blonde baby.

“Where have you had him?” Iris asks.

“Camping and a caravan. He's not been around for long.” Noctis replies and Iris looks horrified.

“We didn’t steal him.” Noctis huffs.

* * * Iris stays with Noctis, Prompto and Solis in the hotel room while Ignis and Gladio head out for supplies.

Prompto’s had to change Solis into something cooler which seems to be sleepwear. A little black babygrow with gold text on the front saying nap king, along with a tiny crown. Iris coos at the sight and Noctis smiles softly muttering about how he is actually the nap king.

Noctis has the windows open but unfortunately it doesn’t help much. If anything everyone except Solis is suffering.

Prompto’s taken to wearing sleepwear consisting of a vest and pj shorts littered with comic book sound effects wrote on them and Noctis quickly follows his lead.

Iris meanwhile unfolds a pink hand fan and quickly fans herself with it, Prompto sits on the bed with Solis trying to steal a breeze as Solis is trying to steal the fan.

“I’m dying.” Prompto whines stopping Solis from grabbing the fan. Noctis leans closer and gently boops Solis’ nose as a distraction. Solis looks at him with his tiny mouth open.

“Same” Iris and Noctis reply.

“Jynx.” Prompto tiredly mutters, looking down at Solis. “How are you ok?” he asks his son who’s currently trying to grab Noctis’ hair.

“Hopefully he’s feeling a breeze.” Noctis says, offering Solis a finger to grab, he smiles when Solis grips onto said finger.

“So what’s the full story here?” Iris asks. “It feels like you two are a couple and somehow got a baby.”

“Not dating.” Noctis replies, blushing a little. Prompto covers his own red face and Noctis for a second thinks he looks disappointed by that fact.

“Really?” Iris asks, she was certain they finally confessed to each other but she was wrong.

Prompto and Noctis look at each other, taking a breath before trying to explain it all to Iris and by the end of it she understands, thinks it's a blessing even.

“Are you happy with all this?” she asks them both. The duo nod and smile, they gained something wonderful from this, how could they not be.

A single tear leaks down Prompto’s cheek causing Noctis and Iris to look at him.

“Prompto? You ok?” Noctis asks, brows knitting together, he leans over and wipes the tear away and Prompto's breath hitches.

Iris feels sorry for him, glancing at Noctis as the blonde breaks down.

“Maybe give us a moment.” She mutters to Noctis and the Prince nods, taking the baby and heading out on the balcony with Solis. He looks worried honestly.

Iris waits until the balcony door closes and speaks up, hugging Prompto close.

“Are you not happy?” she asks quietly, gripping onto his shirt.

“N-No. I'm super happy. Happiest I've ever been.” Prompto sniffles, resting his chin against her shoulder.

“Are you sure? This doesn't look like happy tears.” she mutters.

“I-I love Solis. I'd die for him Iris, I’d kill for him and honestly that scares me but that's not what's up.” Prompto replies.

“Then what is?” Iris asks, rubbing his back.

“I really love him.”

“Noctis?”

Prompto nods and sniffles.

“I really fucking love him...A-And it hurts.”

“Why?” Iris asks, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “Why does it hurt?”

“Cause...I-I know I'm not good enough for him. I'm just a pleb, I don't care about the fact he's a Prince...H-He could have nothing and I'd still love him. Just I keep falling for him more and more each day, even seeing him with the baby makes me fall...It hurts cause someone like me doesn't belong with him.”

Iris bites her lip and breathes out softly before speaking up again, hoping she doesn't get emotional.

“I think you're good enough for him.” she says, resting a hand on his arm, offering him a soft smile.

Prompto chuckles and sniffles, pulling away and wiping his eyes.

“Funny...He pretty much said the same thing too...Just different situations.” he glances outside at Noctis and Solis and sighs softly. “I should go calm him down. He's probably stressed out there, maybe worrying to the baby.”

Iris looks up at him as he carefully gets up.

“Are you sure you're ok?” she asks and he nods with a soft smile.

“Yeah...Sorry I got like….That.” he winces a little thinking back and she shakes her head, getting up herself.

“Nah, you're good.” She replies, pulling him into one last hug before leaving the room and deciding to give the boys their privacy.

* * * Prompto heads out to Noctis, speaking up before wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his chin against his shoulder.

“Hey.” Prompto speaks up.

“You and Iris done?” Noctis asks.

“Yeah...I missed my boys.” Prompto says.

Noctis snorts and startles Solis accidentally, before speaking up. "We missed you too."

“Ah you just broke so many girls hearts with that and scared the baby, you heathen.” Prompto jokes.

Noctis smiles and rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” he mutters with a smile making Prompto laugh.

“So...How was Solis?” Prompto asks.

“Ok this might sound weird but...I think he can summon...Or will be able to when he's a little older.” Noctis says making Prompto raise a brow.

“Why do you think that? Can you like sense it?”

“Nah I've seen his eyes glow pink one night and tonight.”

“What happened?” Prompto asks palling a little.

“ He got stressed out and he tried to summon someone to help comfort you but yeah nothing happened other than eye colour change. He got a little fussy and annoyed after that didn't work. I've never seen a baby look so grumpy.”

“That explains the eye change in the car.” Prompto mutters and gently stands on his tip toes, reaches over Noctis’ shoulder to soothe Solis via gently rubbing his cheek with a finger. “It's ok buddy, you don't need to make grabby hands at the astrals for me.”

Noctis smiles and agrees.

“Plus I think they're only interested in gossip on us. Can't see Ramuh coming down to hug any of us.”

They fall into a comfortable silence moments later before Prompto speaks up.

“Sorry.” Prompto mutters.

“What for?” Noctis replies.

“Worrying you both I guess, just emotions got the best of me. But I'm ok now. Don't worry.” he smiles softly and gives Noctis a gentle squeeze.

“You sure?”

Prompto makes a sound of agreement and glances down at Solis.

Their baby is clinging to Noctis, he looks up at Prompto and stares, drooling a little. Prompto is glad that Solis has nothing to stress about in his young life so far.

Prompto finds himself glancing at Noctis or as much as he can see of him as he cuddles him from behind and makes a decision, he slowly lets go causing Noctis to turn around and Prompto bites his lip as he does, seeing his boys fully and feeling happiness wash over him. He catches Noctis’ eyes and smiles softly, Noctis copying said smile.

The duo move closer, eyes glancing at each other's lips, then back up at each other. They continue it for a few more seconds before attempting to lean in, they're meer inches apart before the balcony door opens and startles them apart.

“Did I interrupt something?” Ignis asks and the duo shake their heads nervously.

“N-No.” Prompto replies, Noctis seems too awkward at this point to even speak up.

“...Just came to tell you we got supplies, lunch should be ready soon and we acquired some baby supplies. We found a product that is basically a three in one: shampoo, conditioner and body wash specifically for infants.”

Noctis nods and glances at Solis in his arms. The blonde baby sneezes and whines causing Prompto to gently wipe his nose with his shirt. Noctis’ heart thumps against his chest at the sight. It's weird such a gross thing can make him fall more for Prompto but it does. Both Solis and Prompto will be the death of him. His two rays of sunshine.

“So round 2 of actually bathing him this time?” Prompto asks, looking up at Noctis.

“...Huh?..O-Oh Yeah. Totally.” the Prince replies.

“Use the bathroom sink. I don't feel confident with him being in the bathtub with one of you just yet. Far too small for that.” Ignis says, handing Prompto a bag.

“I thought you only got that magic three in one stuff?” he asks the chef.

“I took the liberty of getting him a washcloth or two along with a couple of towels.”

“Oh em gee! You are a lifesaver!” Prompto almost yells, rushing over and hugging Ignis.

Ignis smiles and gently hugs him back.

“I wouldn't go that far, he did need the supplies.” Ignis replies before glancing over at Solis. “He appears to be distracted.”

Solis is staring up at who knows what and Prompto is reminded of himself looking at Solis, wide eyes and mouth slightly open. Noctis has photographic evidence of Prompto making that exact face when he's seen something of interest.

“He's either super focused or zoning out.” Prompto says.

Noctis glances down at Solis and smirks before looking up to where the baby is looking.

“Holy shi-....He's staring at a huge bird on the roof.” Noctis says, eyes wide. They've been near a bird that Prompto once said was three halves of different things and this one is tiny compared to that but it doesn't stop Noctis staring and holding Solis closer.

Prompto follows Solis’ line of sight and startles a little. Astrals. It looks like a bird of prey and honestly makes him feel terrified, it's not the one from Gladio's tattoo but it’s got talons that Prompto doesn't want to mess with.

“Magnificent creature.” Ignis mutters.

Prompto currently looks like an angry Chocobo as he stares at the bird of prey. “I don't trust it.” he huffs. He's terrified it'll try to get their baby and looking at Noctis, he feels the same.

He almost screams as another flies over with food but softens when he hears noises. Tiny calls.

“They seem to have offspring.” Ignis mutters, smiling a little when he spots a couple of smaller grey chicks.

Noctis agrees and points the chicks out to Solis, Prompto is sure he hears said Prince say “They're babies, like you.” to their son and honestly Prompto melts.

Prompto gasps when he catches sight of one and rushes inside to get his camera, almost running into the balcony door.

* * * Prompto and Noctis do baby bath time that night. Prompto on holding duty while Noctis lathers up Solis’ fluffy baby hair.

They switch come wash time and attempt to make Solis distracted enough as to not wail. The baby so far isn't found of his sink bath, teary eyed and whiny.

Distraction comes in the form of playing/singing themes from animes and video games they like. Solis just stares at them in awe before blessing them with his first ever giggle. It's an adorably bubbly giggle, honestly it makes Noctis think of Prompto in a weird way.

His laugh makes him feel warmth and like laughing himself, this tiny giggle from their sunbeam has a very similar effect too.

The duo may gasp and yell for Gladio and Ignis after said adorable moment but also make the duo swear not to tell another soul how they got Solis to giggle for the first time.

“My little sunbeam~” Prompto coos at Solis when they dry him off and honestly Noctis agrees with the nickname. It fits perfectly, so much it kind of sticks.

* * * Come night time, Prompto carefully lies Solis down in a cot the hotel provided. He looks anxious to put their baby in it.

“What if he gets scared?” he asks, looking over at Noctis.

“We'll be right here ready. Prom his crib is right near our bed. Easy access if he needs us.” Noctis says, honestly he's unsure too but he's just quiet about it.

Prompto swallows and carefully leans into the cot, kissing Solis’ head before climbing into bed, he smiles when Noctis does the same, he notices Noctis put something in the cot and raises a brow. He should ask about that.

Everyone wishes each other goodnight or everyone who can talk that is. Prompto practically beams when they all wish Solis goodnight.

Prompto leaves a light on for Solis before whispering to Noctis.

“What did you put in his crib?”

“Carbuncle.” Noctis yawns.

“Carbuncle?” Prompto sounds lost.

“He's kinda like something that goes into dreams, protects you from nightmares. He's a little fox thing. Sol will love him.” he mutters to Prompto and doesn't miss the blonde smile.

“I hope he gives our baby safe dreams.” Prompto sleepily mutters before drifting off surprisingly before Noctis.

“Yeah, me too.” Noctis yawns, joining him moments later.

* * * Prompto wakes in the night to check on Solis. Solis starts coughing and Prompto panics, scooping him up and patting his back gently.

Solis sniffles and Prompto realises his baby has a cold. Poor Solis' nose is all stuffy and his eyes are wet probably because said cold is bothering him.

Prompto rubs his back and sighs, he shouldn't worry over a cold but he is. His little sunbeam seems irritated by the cold. He wishes he could take it away from him.

“Why didn't you wail?” Prompto asks quietly carefully climbing back in bed with Solis in his arms. Solis whines and Prompto tries to soothe him. “I know buddy. Colds suck.” he mutters, kissing his head.

Solis is fussy the rest of the night and Prompto stays awake trying to soothe him, unfortunately that means he’s still awake by the time the others wake up, as is Solis who sniffles and cries which honestly breaks Prompto’s heart.

It makes sense the baby would get a cold at some point but Prompto had no idea it would be so sucky for Solis. Honestly he feels like crying for him honestly, he can handle lacking a few hours or more if it means he can be there for his son but he can't seem to handle his baby having a common cold.

“...-Ompto,is everything alright?”

“...Huh?” he glances over to the source of the voice to see Ignis looking concerned. He must have zoned out.

Prompto sighs and gently rocks Solis, glancing over at Ignis.

“Sol’s got his first cold.” Prompto replies. ‘He’s been awake for hours and really fussy...I think it's really bugging him and I don’t know what to do. I want to fix it for him.”

Noctis heads over, feeling Solis’ head. The look of relief on his face is instant when he realises Solis doesn’t have a fever.

“He’s too young for pills so I think we just have to wait it out.” Noctis says with a sigh, Prompto whines tiredly and Solis copies which would be cute if he wasn’t grumpy from his cold.

“Just keep him hydrated.” Ignis replies. “And away from crowds.”

“But that means we’ll have to stay put until he feels better.” Prompto yawns. “How do we get breakfast?”

“Room service.” Noctis adds, reaching for the phone causing Gladio to sigh.

“We have a stove y’know. Iggy can cook for free.” the shield mutters.

“Plus it would save funds.” Ignis adds causing Noctis to sigh and lower the phone back down.

Noctis sits next to Prompto and puts an arm around him, Solis sniffles as Noctis pulls the duo closer.

“He’ll be ok, I promise.” Noctis mutters.

“But what if-”

“If it gets worse we’ll go see someone. But he doesn’t have a fever, he’s not throwing up or anything. We’ll monitor him, I swear.” Noctis mutters.

Prompto rests his head against Noctis’ chest. “He’s so grumpy right now, I feel bad for him.”

Noctis gently strokes Solis’ cheek trying to soothe him.

“Sleep it off...Sunbeam.” he mutters continuing to stroke Solis’ cheek until the baby falls asleep.

Prompto yawns and Noctis changes positions so he’s lying down with them both, he carefully takes Solis from Prompto and holds him close.

“Prom. Go to sleep, your eyes are bloodshot.” Noctis mutters trying not to disturb their son.

Prompto nuzzles his side and yawns, he falls asleep fairly quickly after, hoping Solis doesn’t feel as bad later on.

[shireness-says]

Playing the Part ch. 11: Why So Silent?

Summary:  As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from the bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU.  Rated T. Also on AO3.  Prologue  Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3 Ch. 4  Ch. 5  Ch. 6  Ch. 7  Ch. 8  Ch. 9  Ch. 10

A/N: Here we are: the fallout from the holiday party. Sorry? 

Chapter title from “The Phantom of the Opera” and suggested by my fantastic beta, @snidgetsafan. Thanks for that, for your beta services, and for reassuring me about what I did this chapter.

I did a count this morning, and if all goes to plan - or to outline, rather - then this story will have 19 parts. That’s 6 more chapters and an epilogue, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief that we’re halfway through this nonsense. Thanks for sticking with me.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Emma wakes up in her bed the day after the holiday party with a headache, dry mouth, and regret. Plenty of regret.

At first, it’s just a vague regret, one she attributes to the knowledge she drank too much and an all-too-keen awareness of how her brain is pounding in her head, attempting to forcibly squeeze out through her ears. As she readjusts to the waking world, however, it all comes rushing back. The holiday party. Drinking on the balcony. Killian.

Fuck.

Images of the night before flash behind her eyelids and Emma groans, and not just from the physical pain. God, she was a mess. Mortification courses through her veins, leaving Emma tempted to just crawl underneath the covers again and never come back out. She just might have done it, too, if the bedroom door hadn’t squealed open at that exact moment. I really need to get some Pam on those hinges, Emma idly thinks as she flops her head over to face the door and is met by Mary Margaret’s head, cautiously peeking through the crack. That hesitance doesn’t last long, though, as once her friend ascertains that Emma is indeed awake, she fully walks through the door with a perky smile on her face and cups of what Emma can only hope is very strong coffee in her hands.

“I thought I heard you!” she chirps, pulling an apologetic face when Emma winces at the pitch. Honestly, fuck this hangover. “Sorry,” she says in a much mellower tone of voice. “Here, have some coffee.”

“Oh thank god,” Emma responds, hastily reaching for the offered cup. “You’re a living saint, Mary Margaret.”

“There’s bagels in the kitchen, too, if you feel up to getting out of bed. Oh! And,” she chirps, sending another stab of pain through Emma’s skull as she starts fishing through her pockets, finally coming up with a small plastic tube, “I found Advil. Just my little travel size, but it’ll work, right?”

Emma nods as best she can when attempting to inhale her coffee, motioning with her free hand to hand over one of the capsules. “Thanks,” she rasps when Mary Margaret hands the little salmon-colored tablets over to her. A thought strikes her suddenly, a drunken half-memory creeping through, and Emma groans again. “Don’t tell me you slept on the couch last night.”

“I didn’t sleep on the couch last night,” Mary Margaret reassures, before pausing. Somehow, there’s a sense of a ‘but’ coming, though there really shouldn’t be. Sure enough, though, Mary Margaret continues. “I slept in Henry’s room.”

“Oh, M’s…” Emma groans. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, I think I did,” she argues right back. “You were very insistent last night that you didn’t want to be left alone.”

“Of fucking course I was,” Emma mutters to herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mary Margaret offers kindly, ever the mother.

Easy answer, that. “Nope,” Emma answers curtly. Fueled by embarrassment and a desire to get as far away as possible from this conversation, she manages to swing her legs out from under the covers and haul herself out of bed to make her way to the bathroom, though she regrets it all the while. Cold air and nausea-inducing movement are much less pleasant than the cozy warmth of the many layers of blankets on her bed.

Brushing her teeth and taking a moment to look marginally less gross helps, but Emma’s still not quite ready to dissect the whole thing with Mary Margaret. Unfortunately, her friend isn’t quite on the same page. Emma had anticipated as such, and is already braced and ready when she walks back in to find some clothes.

Sure enough, Mary Margaret tries to jump in as soon as she walks back into the room. “If you want to talk about last night, Emma — ”

“Don’t you have that appointment this morning?” Emma quickly interrupts, the words already waiting on her tongue. “Miss Blue really won’t be pleased if you’re late, and it’s already almost nine. You’ve got to get going if you want to stop at your place before the theater.” There may or may not have been an incident Tuesday evening where a seam in one of Mary Margaret’s gowns was ripped while she and David were playing tonsil hockey (or whatever the kids say these days). Ruby had quickly tacked it for Wednesday’s matinee, but the production’s petite yet intimidating costume designer had wanted to supervise the permanent repair, supposedly to ensure the fit was correct. Personally, Emma suspects that Mary Margaret is in for a talking-to. If her friend’s blanched face upon initially receiving word of her appointment was any indication, Mary Margaret thinks the same. It’s a low, dirty move of a distraction, but Emma knows M’s won’t risk being late to a professional obligation - both for her own sake and for Emma’s, knowing that these kind of snafus directly increase the amount of stress Emma has to deal with.

The look Mary Margaret gives her is unimpressed - the look of a woman who knows exactly what Emma’s attempting and is not fooled in the least. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” she warns. “I’m just about to leave because you just happen to be correct about the time, not because I’m letting you drop this subject. We will pick this up later, and you’ll feel better for it afterwards. Promise?”

Emma hums noncommittally. She’d much prefer to drop the whole thing and pretend it never happened until the end of time. That doesn’t fly with her friend however, as Mary Margaret’s unimpressed look only sharpens.

“I’m serious, Emma. Promise me we’ll talk about it later?”

“Yes, fine, Mom, I promise,” Emma sighs in exasperation, rolling her eyes. The latter was probably a bad idea; it doesn’t help the headache in the least. “Now for the love of God, get out of here before you’re late.”

“Alright,”  Mary Margaret agrees, somewhat hesitantly. “But call me if you need anything, ok? And make sure you eat that bagel, the bread and the protein in the cream cheese will do you good.”

“I will, ok?” Emma all but snaps. Subconsciously, she knows that she’s only reacting in this way due to embarrassment, but for the moment she just wants Mary Margaret out of her apartment, good intentions aside, so that she can wallow in her mortification in peace.

A flash of guilt streaks through Emma as her friend fixes her with a disapproving stare, but Mary Margaret still gathers her coat and heads for the door. “I’m just trying to help, Emma,” she says quietly, disappointment coloring her voice and turning the flash of guilt into a deeply stabbing knife.

Emma sighs, deflating. “I know. I’m sorry,” she says. “Blame it on the hangover. I’ll be better once I get some food into my system. I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

“Alright,” Mary Margaret agrees, before stepping forward to envelop Emma in a tight hug. “Feel better,” she whispers. With a last squeeze she departs, leaving Emma to the silence of her empty apartment.

(Somehow, even though it’s exactly what she wanted mere minutes ago, she hates every silent second of it.)

———

She’s an absolute child, is the thing, between the clinginess last night and her outburst this morning. Might as well go for the hat trick of immaturity and react to her embarrassment by avoiding all witnesses to the event that’s warranted it. Mary Margaret she’s avoiding for obvious reasons - Emma has no intention to discuss the matter, but knows her traitor mouth might betray her anyways when faced with her friend’s gentle insistence. Killian though… she knows he isn’t judging her for her behavior, can see it in the gentle smiles he offers her, and doubts he’d make her discuss the matter, but Emma avoids him all the same out of shame. Merely being in his presence makes her burn with embarrassment at the memory of that evening, and she seeks to evade any reminders of that whenever possible. He doesn’t deserve this treatment, which makes Emma feel slightly guilty - Killian’s a genuinely good guy, kind and charming and (dare she say it?) handsome, someone who she’d want to know more intimately under different circumstances - but she’s compelled to act on a self-preservational instinct.

New Year’s passes with Emma ducking around corners and passing secondhand messages. Henry eventually returns from his vacation with his dad, less enchanted with skiing than before he left - “It’s hard, Mom, and who wants to be out in the cold all day?” - Emma’s good mood returning with him, but another Wednesday comes and goes with her avoidance tactics still in full force. Seeing Emma cheery again, Mary Margaret seems inclined to let go of her determined attempts to dissect the incident now that a week has passed, and Emma can almost put the whole thing behind her. Still, though, the memory persists, and with it, Emma’s avoidance of Killian.

It won’t last forever - at least, she doesn’t think so - but for now, a mere week and some change later, the tactic is here to stay.

———

Emma is avoiding him. Again.

It feels a bit like two months ago again, except this time, Killian can’t figure out what he did wrong. All he knows is that Emma is avoiding him at all costs, ducking around corners when she sees him coming and relaying messages through intermediaries when necessary. And it hurts.

Thinking back, the closest he can figure is that all this started right after the Christmas party, when he watched over Emma in her intoxicated state. Though he meant well, he must have overstepped her boundaries that evening. With growing sadness, Killian realizes he likely blew any chance he might have had of even remaining friends with Emma with what must have been a blatant disregard of her understandable restrictions and concerns. Even if he just meant to make sure she was alright, he must have come off as a real arse. Eventually, he’ll be kicking himself over the whole thing, but for the moment he just feels sad.

He misses her, is the thing, even though he feels like he doesn’t deserve to, not since this is all his fault. He’d thought they were making such good progress too; a simple conversation with Emma can brighten his whole day, and without that to look forward to, everything seems dimmer. He misses her sarcasm, and her dry sense of humor, the way she doesn’t mince her words and snorts when she laughs, the way her smiles may not be easy to earn (except for where her boy is concerned), but so worth it when they make an appearance. He’s fully aware that he’s a pathetic bastard, but ultimately, he can’t help it.

Though Killian is sure everyone has noticed by now how desperate Emma is to avoid him, and how morose he is in turn, it’s Robin of all people who broaches the subject and stops tiptoeing around the matter.

“How are you doing, Killian?” he asks, voice filled with more concern that Killian really deserves. He’d come up to the booth for a meeting they should never have needed to have about finding his spot, Killian frustratingly distracted by his emotional turmoil and nearly missing his marks two days in a row. Ostensibly, they’d met to review where Killian needed to stand each time and whether Robin needed to adjust anything, but it seems more like an excuse for Robin to prod him about the source of the distraction rather than the side effects it creates.

Killian initially just shrugs, humming noncommittally at the other man’s inquiry. It feels a bit weird getting into this with Robin - though they get along well enough, he doesn’t actually know Robin that well, and the lighting designer is definitely more Emma’s friend than Killian’s. There’s a bad joke about losing friends in the platonic divorce bubbling at the back of his throat, but his persistent melancholy keeps it from finding a voice. Ironic, this - he and Emma have switched places emotionally from the circumstances that started all this.

“Really, now,” the other man persists, “I know something’s the matter. Emma’s been acting odd all week, and you’ve seemed down ever since. Now, I may not be some rocket scientist or statistics whiz,” he jokes, “but I’m sensing a correlation. So: how are you doing, Killian?”

Faced with that gentle opposition, Killian cracks. Perhaps it’s a sign that he’s wanted to talk about this all along with someone who knows all the players. “I don’t even know what’s the matter, not really,” he confides. “I just know that for some reason, Emma is avoiding me.” Privately, he suspects it’s a direct result of the events of the other night, but he doesn’t feel comfortable sharing the details without Emma’s knowledge or permission. It hurts, knowing that despite his best efforts to assist Emma as best he can while still respecting her boundaries - her reasonable boundaries, which he agrees with - she still feels avoidance to be necessary. “I think we all know how I feel about Emma,” he chuckles, the words eliciting a snort from Robin in return, “but I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should just… let it go. Find a way to move past my feelings. Not because I want to,” he hastens to add, “but because she seems to want me to. I’m willing to be persistent, but after a certain point… it all seems like a hint to go away. And maybe it’s about time I took that hint.”

Robin just stares back, more skeptical than Killian expected. Granted, he hadn’t expected skepticism at all, so any amount is rather unexpected. “Seriously?”

“... Yes?”

Robin lets out a snort. “Oh lord. Killian, my good man, let me tell you a secret.” He leans in conspiratorially, Killian meeting him halfway out of some bizarre sense of courtesy. Robin, the absolute bastard, lets the moment dramatically sit a moment longer before whispering melodramatically, “Emma’s got a thing for you too.”

Killian rears back, face suddenly twisting into an expression of annoyed disbelief as Robin raises his eyebrows knowingly. “Really?” he deadpans. “Now that’s just mean. Childish, even, taunting a man like that.”

“I’m serious!” Robin protests. “She absolutely, one-hundred-percent has a thing for you. If you want to get truly childish, really embrace this middle-school mentality you’re accusing me of,” he smirks, “then I’d say she likes you. Likes likes you. Please, trust the man shut into a woefully small space with her every day on this one.”

Still, Killian scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve seen absolutely no proof of that.”

“Yes, well, you’re not the one witnessing the banter and the little blushing smiles and the way she stares at your arse in that costume. Seriously, mate, it’s almost nauseating. Not quite as bad as Nolan and Blanchard, but…” he trails off, his point clear.

“She never said anything!” Killian weakly protests. Like that’s a thing people actually do - walk up and tell the object of their affections how they feel.

“Yes, well, that would require Emma actually being willing to admit to herself that she fancies you, and that’s proven to be a stretch too far,” Robin parries, voice dry but sage, before softening. “Look, if you want my advice, don’t give up on her yet. I know from experience - the best ones will lead you on a merry chase,” he tells Killian somewhat wistfully. Killian almost cracks a jab about the other man’s own enamorment of Regina Mills, but restrains himself upon seeing the melancholy-tinged reminiscence gracing Robin’s face, instead waiting for the man to reveal his train of thought in his own time.

Shortly, Robin seems to remember Killian’s presence, smiling sheepishly. “My wife - Marian, her name was - was an opera singer, part of the chorus at the Met, back when I was just some young upstart, full of confidence and no real chance to prove it yet. It was love at first sight on my part, as cliche as that sounds, and she had approximately no time or patience for me, some young puppy following at her heels,” he laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that Killian knows is caused by warm memories. “But whether out of hope or determination or pure obliviousness, I held out hope, and look what it got me. Five of the happiest years of my life and a wonderful son.” He smiles, face flooded with the look of a truly content man. “Look, you have to do whatever is best for you, I understand and support that one hundred percent. I just want to encourage you not to throw in the towel just yet - not while I still think there’s hope.”

The words are comforting, and even if Killian was feeling somewhat despondent just minutes before, he’s suddenly reinvigorated with a new sense of just what Robin urged him to have - hope. “Thank you,” he replies softly, a small smile starting to form on his face. “That’s, uh…” he pauses, not sure how to continue, how to express the bolstering impact Robin’s had with his words, and settles for simple gratitude instead. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Robin smiles back, offering a comforting and companionable pat on the shoulder before turning back to the task at hand. “Now, let me show you again exactly where the spot is gonna hit, even if you really ought to know this by now, and I’ll have you go mark it, okay?”

———

She should have known she wouldn’t be able to avoid all interactions forever, or at least not those with Mary Margaret. Emma could swear the petite brunette has magic, what with the way she always seems to appear just when Emma is hoping to avoid her. Who knows, maybe the name of that pixie cut denotes more than just a style, and is instead a hint that Mary Margaret is actually a devious fairy. Stranger things have happened, surely.

Regardless of whether or not Mary Margaret possesses magical teleportation powers, that doesn’t change the fact that she eventually catches up to Emma, her face displaying that awful combination of half hurt and half disappointment usually only displayed by parents (or so Emma’s heard).

“Are we ever going to talk about the Christmas party?” she asks in a tone that suggests she thinks it’s been more than long enough of a wait.

“Not if I can help it,” Emma mumbles back under her breath, but Mary Margaret’s keen ears catch the words all the same.

“Emma, you can’t run from this conversation forever,” she scolds. “I know you don’t want to rehash it, but I really think you’ll feel better once you do. It’ll let you stop lingering on it.”

“I’m not lingering on anything,” Emma argues. “Henry’s home again, so everything’s fine. And, not to gloat or anything, but he didn’t have nearly as much fun as he expected. I’m still my kid’s favorite, all’s right with the world, no need to talk through whatever last Wednesday was. I’m good, really.”

Mary Margaret stares back skeptically, that disapproving frown still dominating her face. “Really, you’re good?” she demands. “You sure you’re not lingering? Because avoiding — ” she interrupts herself to peer around, seemingly checking that no one is listening — “avoiding Killian doesn’t seem like something a person who’s completely past the matter would do.”

“I’m not avoiding Killian,” Emma insists stubbornly. “I can’t help if we haven’t run into each other this week. It happens.”

“Oh, please,” Mary Margaret shoots back. “I’m optimistic, not stupid. You’ve practically run in the other direction whenever you see him coming. It’s a damn good thing there haven’t been any major issues you were both involved in the past few days, or God only knows how that would have been resolved.”

Well, she’s got Emma there. “So what if I am? Seems like that’s my business. What does it matter to you?”

“I just want you to be happy, Emma,” Mary Margaret wheedles in that way of hers. The pure cloying sentiment of her words and intent nearly make Emma gag. “And this hasn’t been a happy week for you. I can only imagine this self-imposed separation from Killian - usually one of your greatest supporters - is part of that. What happened?” She gasps suddenly. “Oh god, he didn’t do anything before I picked you up, did he?”

“No, no, God no,” Emma rushes to reassure.

“What then? I can’t understand it.”

“Look, I’m embarrassed, ok?” Emma snaps. “I was not at my best that night, and I don’t really want to face what Jones - one of my coworkers - thinks of me after that display, pity or disgust or whatever else. I don’t want to deal with it, so I haven’t.”

There’s an unexpected snort from behind the women, and Emma whirls to see Regina, standing there looking deeply amused. “You’re aware that Jones thinks the sun shines out of your ass, right?”

Mary Margaret gasps next to Emma, though it’s more likely that she’s less shocked over Regina’s presence than about her use of language. Figures.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Regina clarifies somewhat haughtily, “it’s just that neither of you are particularly good at watching your volume. But I say again: you do know that Jones thinks you personally are responsible for the sun coming up each morning? Thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread? That you hung the stars? Etcetera, etcetera, must I continue?”

“She’s got a point, Emma,” Mary Margaret contributes, her tone vaguely apologetic.

Regina smiles smugly at that, before continuing. “Look, I’m just saying, I don’t think there’s much that would change his mind, and that probably includes whatever you did the other night that you’re so embarrassed about. Did you hit him?”

“No,” Emma replies, rolling her eyes.

“Insult his mother?”

“No.”

“Run down the street buck-ass naked declaring your allegiance to some space alien dictatorship?”

“Christ Almighty, no!” God, where did Regina even come up with that?

“Ok, then I’m sure he doesn’t blame you for anything. And anyone with two eyes can see that you don’t need or want pity, which is pretty effective at keeping it away. So what are you worrying about?” Her tone softens somewhat at the stubborn set of Emma’s jaw (a stubborn expression that hides her insecurity about the whole matter, but Regina doesn’t need to know that). “Look, you can do whatever you want, Miss Swan. Lord knows we certainly can’t stop you,” she declares with a knowing look to Mary Margaret, “but what I can tell you - and I’m sure Miss Blanchard can as well - Jones has seemed sad and confused and even hurt ever since you began your little avoidance game. The way I see it, you’re protecting yourself from something that isn’t going to happen anyways, and we’re all witnessing the fallout. If you don’t want anything to do with Jones, that’s fine, that’s your prerogative, but you can’t keep up this ridiculous ducking around corners and speaking through the ASMs. Let it go on long enough, and it’s going to undermine your power - which I’m sure is the last thing you want.”

Emma hadn’t thought of it like that, far too caught up in her immediate mortification to truly think through its consequences. Hell, the entire reason she gave for turning Killian down in the first place was fear of a relationship affecting things at work; according to Regina, Emma’s brought exactly what she feared to come to pass, without even the benefit of a relationship as an excuse. Fan-fucking-tastic. She groans in realization.

“Yes, I think that about sums it up,” Regina comments drily. Emma shoots her a glare in response - entirely warranted, in her opinion, especially since Regina’s opinion is so unasked for.

“We don’t want to guilt you, Emma,” Mary Margaret puts in more gently, shooting her own look in Regina’s direction as the latter sounds a dissenting hum. “Like I said: we just want you to be happy, and this? This isn’t making you - or Killian, for that matter - happy.”

(Emma think that statement is effectively the same thing as guilting her, but she doesn’t have the energy right now to argue that.)

“Look, I’ll think about everything you both said. Happy?” Even if Mary Margaret and Regina are correct, Emma’s not really in the mood to admit it right now.

Mary Margaret nods, though the movement seems reluctant. It’s the best she’s going to get right now, though, so she’ll have to be happy with it. “But about the thing with Neal and Henry - ”

“Honestly, I haven’t even thought about that since Henry returned. Funny how that solved the issue. Really, Mary Margaret, can we just drop it? I’ll admit to ‘lingering’ or whatever, but honestly, the Henry and Neal thing that started it all has been the furthest thing from my mind. Which means no need to to talk about it or… whatever.”

“If you’re sure…” Mary Margaret finally agrees hesitantly.

“God, yes, I’m sure. It’s my one real dream to drop this. Please. Immediately. Like, yesterday.” That, at least, draws a laugh out of even Regina, Mary Margaret shaking her head with affection. “Now, I think we all have things to do or places we’d rather be, so can we, you know, get to it instead of standing around doing whatever this is?”

By some miracle, both women comply, even if Mary Margaret is hesitant. Eventually, Emma will probably appreciate the conversation they’ve all just suffered through, but for now, she just wants to be alone.

After all, she’s got an awful lot to think about.

———

In the end, things go back to normal out of Emma’s own volition - no more pestering friends and, unlike last time, no need for Killian to come convince her. The insecure part of Emma whispers that the fact that he wasn’t fighting for her and their… whatever dynamic this time is a sign that his affections have changed, that he’s no longer interested in her in any way, romantic or otherwise, but his near-palpable relief when Emma breaks her silence to ask him if he’s seen Belle dispels that notion.

“Missed you, Swan!” he calls with a wink (well, his facsimile of a wink) as she wanders off in the indicated direction.

(And if she blushes at the return of his casual affection, well, that’s her business - as is the acknowledgement that she maybe missed him too.)

[weakeninghope]

Kiss me (whispering words of love) chapter 5 -last-

Pairing: Ash Lynx/Eiji Okumura

Rating: Teen

AO3 link here

Summary:  They take a bath together and Eiji comes to a resolution.

Notes: Hello! this story has come to an end and I hope you've enjoyed it! Thank you for all the support I've received <3

I have a question for you though, would you be interested in a sequel? Like, in a sequel in which Ash becomes a singer and idk, things happen? Eiji takes pictures of him and stuff? If so, let me know! I really loved writing this AU.

Sorry if the ending feels rushed but I really didn't think this story needed more.

Comments and kudos are much appreciated <3

Also remember that my requests for Asheiji are always open! I'm currently thinking about one in the I bet universe hehe

see you soon <3

fic under the cut!

As he tried to wake Aslan up -he fell asleeep in the table again- Eiji still couldn't believe what had happened the night before. When he woke up next to a half-naked Aslan, blurry images of what they had done came to his mind. He remembered the heavy make out sessions, hands roaming over naked torsos, Aslan's head between his legs, going up and down his length... Damn, it was all too much, and Aslan was pretty hot.

“Aslan” he tried again. He'd have to wake up, eventually.

Eiji had snorted when he saw his head fall straight to the plate containing the avocado shrimp salad he had made for him, as he almost dropped his head in the food. Eiji would lie if he said that it wasn't funny, even though at first it wasn't like it.

“Aslan” Eiji dragged his name again, only to earn a sleepy “hmmm” from his boyfriend -Eiji was still having trouble acknowledging the new status of their relationship-

“Oh, seriously!” Eiji exclaimed as he dragged the chair Aslan was sitting on towards his direction. After that, he carried Aslan bridal style, since his boyfriend was so light and Eiji was still strong from when he used to be an athlete.

On his way to the bathroom (the apartment wasn't really big, as he had seen the night prior) Aslan made a few sleepy noises and snuggled close to Eiji's naked torso, and Eiji found it to be the cutest thing he had ever witnessed; it was like a kitten curling up in their sleep. It just took Eiji a few steps along the corridor to reach the bathroom and to toss Aslan in the bathtub.

“A shower should wake you up.” Eiji said, staring at his half naked boyfriend, half sitting on the bathtub with only his black boxers on (he remembers how eager he was to strip his boyfriend of the piece of clothing the previous night and he blushes).

He the locked the door, and a few seconds after that, he heard a loud thump.

It couldn't be.

He opened the door and he saw what he thought he'd see; Aslan had fallen asleep again and was curled up facing the wall; he could even hear the blond breath.

For a second, Eiji was tempted to turn on the water, but instead of that, he just got close to his boyfriend and shouted his name again.

“Aslan!” He screamed “Take these off!” He said, again pointing at his boxers.

“That's what you said last night” Aslan replied with a wink, now fully awake.

Bingo.

“Seems someone's fully awake now.”

“What do you expect me to be if you toss me in the bathtub and then shout about stripping me off my underwear.” Aslan said in a husky voice.

Eiji gulped, if this went on for much longer, things could escalate quickly...

It was late in the morning so he didn't want a late-morning wood. He'd have to keep everything from growing too hot since he'd leave after breakfast to talk to Ibe-san.

Right. Ibe-san. The missed phone calls. He still had to make up an excuse as of to why he spent a whole night somewhere else without answering his phone or saying anything.

He'd have to explain he'd gotten excited after hearing his (now) boyfriend sing, that they kissed and that they...

they... had sex.

But it was amazing and he still could feel the touch of Aslan's hands, his firm, yet lean hands, his skillful fingers playing with his length and his whole body...

“What are you staring at, do you really want to see me get undressed? Didn't know you were so eager, Eiji.” Aslan said. That boy...

“I-I'm waiting for you to turn on the water and to take a shower already!” Eiji said, embarrassed, even though he shouldn't be considering what they had done.

“Make me” Aslan taunted, standing up and going off the bathtub, then, he took a few steps towards Eiji.

“What if I do make you and take a bath with you” Eiji said pointing at his boyfriend.

“You mean as in 'two bros chilling in a hot tub 5 feet apart 'cause they're not gay'?” Aslan singsonged, pulling finger guns at Eiji.

This was the boy he was dating.

And he was so fucking proud of it.

“You're unbelievable”  Eiji remarked.

“Shut up and take your clothes off already” Aslan demanded daringly, shifting closer and closer to Eiji.

“That's what you told me last night” Eiji said, copying Aslan's line from before

“That was my line! You thief” Aslan exclaimed feigning being ofended, leaning backwards with a hand on his chest

“Well, you started being a thief.” Eiji said, pulling Aslan closer for an embrace “since you stole my heart the first time I saw you.” After that, they shared a soft, short kiss.

“You know that was a very sappy way for you to tell me to strip for you, right?” Aslan said as he fumbled with his boxers. Eiji got rid of his, too.

“I know. But right now I just want to be with you. Just being close to you is enough.” Eiji said, caressing Aslan's face. “Shall we turn the water on?”

Aslan nodded and no more words were needed for Eiji to open the faucet. They exchanged kisses and remained sharing a tight hug with the running water as a background noise until the bathtub was finally full.

It was a cramped space, so Aslan sat with his back facing the opposite end of the faucet and Eiji put his back on his chest, but it was comfortable, the water was clean, comfortable and the temperature was perfect.

The moment was perfect. He wanted to be by Aslan's side for a long time, to share moments like this one...

“Forever.” Eiji whispered

Eiji cursed himself for saying all the sappy stuff out loud. This had happened a few times and it just kept happening. Damn it.

The dark-haired expected Aslan to mock him, but instead, he wrapped Eiji's naked torso with his arms and whispered forever in his ear.

Everything was perfect.

Until they heard the door, remembered they hadn't locked the door of the bathroom and Aslan's brother saw them naked taking a bath together.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He said, chuckling. From the other end, Aslan and Eiji heard him shouting 'Max! They've hooked up already!”

Aslan and Eiji stared at each other, agape. Speechless. A while after that, they got out of the bathtub and dressed up, only to find Max and Aslan's brother -Griffin- on the couch. And someone else was there.

“Ibe-san!” Eiji exclaimed.

“You know you can talk to me about your crushes, Ei-chan! Why didn't you tell me about this?” Ibe-san asked.

“Seems your little Ei-chan isn't that little anymore, huh Shunichi?” Max asked, patting Ibe-san's back.

“I just didn't know what to say”

“And what about you, Aslan?”

“Why did I have to tell you?”

“Because I'd find out anyway, Max is usually at the café, and he found out how you hooked up and looked at each other, and he told me, and he told Ibe. In fact, I spent tonight with Max so as to leave you two alone.” Griffin stated with a wink. Seems the winking thing was something from the Callenreese siblings.

Eiji blushed impossibly redder, but that wasn't important. What mattered was that he'd look for a label for Aslan to sing for and that he'd be by his side.

Forever.

He'd live his dream about sharing his music with people, he'd find freedom, and they would do it together.

And Eiji would be able to fly again, since now he had wings and a hand to hold in the blue sky.

[ronyxfic]

Educating the Victim - Act VI, Chapter XVI

Pairing: -

Rating: Mature

Warnings/Tags: Alcohol.

Read it on AO3! - Support us on Patreon!

Educating the Victim Masterpost

(Previous chapter) (Next chapter)

CHAPTER 16: Departing

 Rose had somehow managed to be at the airport at exactly 4:30pm. She dragged her pink suitcase to Departures; Azure had said she'd meet them there.

 Marigold was already there, waiting with Azure. They spotted Rose just as Marigold was getting ready to complain about the time. Marigold looked more confident in her new suit. "You made it. Goodness, you look rough."

   "Please don't make me think about it," Rose said. "Where are we going?"

"The private part in the airport," Azure said. "You're taking my private plane. This way."

 "I'm rather excited." Marigold appeared rather jubilant as she looked for a direction. "Hm. There's no signs for it."

 “Is that a surprise to you? None of the rich people want randomers wandering into their part of the airport,” Azure said. “Myself included. Follow me.”

 "Ah, makes... sense." Marigold shot a look at Rose. "I take it we're not going to get time to hang out in departures. Shame. I love browsing through off duty."

 “You can if you want to. There’s access to the regular part of the airport. And we do have some time, since the tower won’t let you leave until about six.”

“Then why are we here so early?” Rose asked.

“Policy,” Azure said simply. “I am supposed to make sure all of the people flying on my plane are security checked and fully briefed, and apparently waiting around at airports is something rich people have to do as well.”

 "Huh." Marigold nodded, and then nudged Rose. "I'm up for it if one of you wants to come with me."

 “Absolutely,” Rose said immediately. “Azure?”

“I’ll wait for you. Hold your horses, though. We need to go through security – it’s not quite as hectic as regular airport security, but it’s a must. You don’t have anything dangerous on you, do you? – Not that they’ll care if you do, I tip them enough.”

 "I mean... you did say you might give us a gun, too." Marigold swallowed.

 “Keep that quiet while we’re still amongst the public, yeah?” Azure reached a door which had a grumpy-looking security guard posted by it. He recognised Azure and opened the door for them. “Here we go.”

 Marigold moved past and fond herself in a miniature private  baggage check. There didn't appear to be any guidelines. "Oh. I take it we can take bottles of water through, then."

 “Yes, the law is different for private planes. Still, you can do some damage if you hijack one of those, so a minimum of security is still necessary.”

Rose was silent, going through the motions. Took off her light jacket, put her keys into the tray.

 Marigold did the same and breezed through the detectors. No alarms.

"So, are you going to just stay in England, Azure?"

 Azure shot her a look. “I cancelled on the biggest gaming convention in the world because of health concerns. I’m not going to go on a wild goose chase in Italy. As much as I’d like to, this isn’t my battle to fight.”

  So, like usual, you're sending someone else to do your dirty work.

Marigold swallowed at the intrusive thought. No. She'd agreed to this. "You mentioned we'd be making a stop before we get to the destination."

 “You’ll get to the airport between nine and ten, local time, and you’ll be tired given how early I dragged you out of bed today. You have a room at the hotel there, and you can get whatever food or drink you want there. In the morning, you’ll get a rental and drive to your actual destination.”

 "Oh, that sounds pleasant! I haven't been in a hotel for years, goodness. Is it a travel lodge kind of thing, or?"

 “Oh, please.” Azure snorted. “It’s the Hilton.”

 "Oh!" Marigold gaped. "Goodness... I. Didn't expect you to go all out."

 “Marigold, darling, have you met me? As if I’d make you stay in a Travelodge wearing that new suit of yours.”

 "I just... like their breakfast buffet." Marigold looked awkward.

 “Oh, Mari, you are precious. The Hilton has a breakfast buffet. And it’s far superior.”

 "Good. That's all I care about, honestly." Marigold appeared satisfied. They passed into a quiet and stylish looking lounge. "Oh! Are we able to go for that quick shop?"

 “Please,” Rose said.

“Oh, sure. I’ll wait for you here.”

 "Alright!" Marigold beamed, putting her luggage down. "We'll see you in a bit!"

 Rose marched towards the shop, directly to the aisle with the alcohol. She didn’t look at Marigold as she selected three bottles of cheap spirits.

   Marigold shot a small glance as she picked up a foot long toblerone. "I also like to come here to buy things for friends."

 Rose snorted. “Friends. Yeah.” She eyed up the toblerone. “Chocolate. Good point.”

 "It's just so cheap here. " Marigold looked around. "I honestly enjoy browsing more than anything."

 “Huh. Are you getting anything?” Rose’s gaze drifted over the wines, the perfumes. She grabbed a huge bag of M&Ms. “Is there a pharmacy or something? Gonna need some painkillers.”

 "Not in here but I think there's an overpriced one on the second floor."

 “Alright. You can stay here, if you want, I’ll pay for these and go grab some.”

 "Alright." Marigold nodded, spraying some tester perfume. "Not quite done browsing, myself."

 --

 An hour later, they were about to get on the plane. Azure came on with them.

“Alright, all the safety stuff is the same as with regular flights,” she said, “oxygen masks, life jackets, yada yada, there will be a little video playing when you take off. Help yourself to drinks, if you want, I don’t employ attendants – the only ones here with you are my pilot and co-pilot.”

 "Oh, goodness. So it'll be incredibly private. Oh, thank you so much, Azure!" Marigold clapped her hands and tentatively extended them, looking around the room before offering a hug. "I know we're going out for you, but... All of this is just wonderful."

 “It’s no trouble at all. You are going there largely on my behalf, after all. It’s the least I can do.” Azure came in to give Marigold a gentle hug. “Be safe, now. There’s Interpol agents waiting for you on the other side. They’re not there to supervise you, only to ensure nobody interferes. You’ll be fine once you get out of the airport.”

She turned to Rose, who was still very quiet, a bag of duty free alcohol in her hands.

“You’ll be okay, Rose?”

Rose gave a wry smile. “Sure. It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

 "Oh, come on, girl." Marigold tired to give an encouraging look. "We'll be fine once we land and find our hotel rooms. You can probably get some kip early."

 Rose shot her an unreadable look, then went on board. “Fancy,” she muttered, seeing the inside of the plane before sitting down and putting on her seat belt.

“I’ll be off, then. Be safe, and please keep in touch.” Azure waved and stepped outside just as the plane’s engines started running.

 Marigold watched her back away from the plane as the engines began to overwhelm her hearing. She then turned back to look at Rose, a giddy look across her features.

 Rose avoided her gaze. “Azure said she had drinks in here?”

She spied the minibar and got up. “One sec. I bet she has some really nice stuff in there.”

 "Shouldn't you stay put until the seatbelt sign turns off?" Marigold sounded like a teacher on a school trip.

 Rose ignored her, opening the fridge and having a gander. “Oh, fancy. I thought so.” She pulled out a bottle and then got back in her seat. “Don’t be so stuck up, Principal Diamond. It’s like we’re going on holiday.” The grim sarcasm was obvious as Rose opened the bottle and took a swig. “To think I spent money on cheap airport alcohol.”

   Marigold frowned.

The edge in Rose's voice as she downed champagne was all too familiar.

She was escaping.

"What are you running from, Rose?"

 Rose gave her a cold look, unsmiling.

“Don’t.”

She took another gulp, and another. Before the plane had even started moving, the bottle was half empty.

 "Okay. Oh! I best put my phone onto airplane mode!" Marigold smiled forcefully. Her hand came to find it, but she then paused. She had neglected to look at it all day.

Her gaze widened. It was already in airplane mode. She remembered setting it so before seeing Azure to avoid being called.

In the second she turned it off she received several instant notifications that silenced when she tapped it back.

(3) Missed calls from Aurora.

She slumped back in her seat as she realised she’d received a novel of worried texts.

Oh.

 < align="center"p>

 Rose was too busy drinking to notice anything off about Marigold. “Want any?” she said, offering the bottle.

 Marigold was almost tempted for a brief second. "No, thank you."

 “More for me.” Rose finished the bottle. “I’m going to have a nap.”

The speakers rustled, and a cheerful voice could be heard.

“Good evening, ladies! This is Bob, your captain for this flight. We’re about to take off, so please put your phones in airplane mode and make sure your seat belts are securely fastened. I’ll give you more infos as we approach Florence, but for now, have a nice flight!”

 Marigold watched the plane take off, the houses and streets of London turning toy sized, and then perhaps ant sized. She wondered what it would be like to be this big, this tall, and decided for a brief second that perhaps she'd like it.

She found herself a cosy position and tried to rest. Perhaps it would all be over soon.