#the delivery of 'i was alone before' paired with the music swelling

[bogunicorn]

honestly don't think i'll ever be over what a fucking slam dunk most of the cast of netflix's castlevania series was. james callis and graham mctavish especially, christ.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 9

pictured: me crawling out of the rubble after yet another set of wisdom tooth extractions

STILL ALIVE, SOMEHOW

anyway, enjoy this update! things have been a bit slow going between this and another project that i haven't started posting yet (along with a brainworm for a different fandom entirely orz), but i'm committed to seeing these stories to the end, don't worry 💙🎶💖

she’s… gone? CBG is gone?

wait hold up, we’re going on a pre-other-job adventure. if you could even call it an adventure.

No, it’s no mistake. Marinette’s not the one standing at the counter this morning. In fact—judging from how much he can see from peering through the window in a totally-not-creepy way—she’s nowhere to be found. Mr. Dupain is there, as faithful to the shop as his apron and his hands are covered in flour. But this time it’s Mrs. Cheng at the register, kissing the top of her husband’s head when he bends it to her and inviting Luka in with a single gesture when she meets his eyes.

Well, now he has to go in.

He tries with every fiber in him to mask his disappointment while he locks up his bike and slips into the bakery-patisserie, and he hangs by the door until she’s finished with a customer and beckons him closer. “Good morning, Luka!” she chirps, and it’s in that moment that he sees all the traces of her daughter in her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Can I get you the usual?”

Luka gives her a mute smile and a nod, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess it has.” Three weeks? Has it really been three weeks? “I heard you went out of the country? How was it?”

“It was nice,” Mrs. Cheng says with her usual warm smile. She’s already busy with a small pastry box and a pair of metal tongs. “Just what I needed for a while, but only for a while. You always have to come back home, after all.”

He nods, despite the fact that his home could be… literally anywhere. Could go literally anywhere. Maybe it’s for that reason alone that he’s had the distinct feeling that home is made up of people and not places.

Mrs. Cheng slides the box toward him, trades it for his card, but she doesn’t let him go just yet. She disappears into the back, and returns with a thick paper cup cradled in both hands, its contents so piping hot that there’s steam rising from the little hole in the lid. “You look like you could use a good cup of tea,” she says, kind as ever—and then, as he takes out his card once more, “It’s on the house, chou. Your constant patronage is payment enough.”

“Wow, that’s…” Luka’s speechless for a moment. “That’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

She smiles at him, and he didn’t really realize how much he’s missed seeing it until now. Maybe it’s not so bad that she came back. (Of course it’s not so bad; what is he thinking?) “The leaves are fresh,” is all she says. Probably because she doesn’t think it’s something she needs to be thanked for. “Think of it as a souvenir.”

Before Luka lets himself out, he stops by the door and tosses a glance back. “Hey, Mrs. Cheng?”

“What is it, Luka?” She had to pause humming as she wiped down the counter and the tongs, but she doesn’t seem disturbed by it. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her disturbed by… anything, really.

His hands are too full to do anything fidgety with them, so he has to settle for scuffing the floor with his heel. “They took real good care of the shop while you were gone. Don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Mrs. Cheng’s expression goes soft. “That’s good,” is all she says, and it’s like she knows what he’s really trying to say—and honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She’s a mother. She’s Marinette’s mother. Surely there have been plenty of boys, maybe even girls, who’ve spent their fair share of time here, fawning and pining. He wouldn’t be offended if he were just a drop in the bucket.

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t considered, until now as he’s hip-checking the door, the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, with the ocean name and the ocean eyes, might already be taken.

Yeah, he has to tie down the pastry box to the back of his bike, and yeah, he has to walk his bike part of the way to the Champ de Mars and ignore the buzz of every notification in his back pocket. But it’s worth taking the extra time to enjoy the tea; he doesn’t know much about all the intricacies of the stuff the way Mrs. Cheng probably does, but it’s fruity and it smells kind of like flowers and it warms his insides, the way he thinks most tea is supposed to. And it perks him right up. He knows he’s going to need that today.

Not to mention there is, admittedly, a part of him that keeps looking around the city as he walks, and then bikes. A part of him that keeps wondering if he might catch Marinette lingering around the city. Living in it the way he does—forgetting, perhaps for a while, that other people exist. It’s the sort of thing that seeps in at the edges of his mind instead of plaguing his every waking moment. It comes to him the same way he might look at some old sheet music and remember his sister, or the way he might find an unattended mess and think, ah, that’s Ma.

At least that makes him feel… a little less like a creep.

When he gets to the park, he has to pick his spot strategically. Getting time off deliveries hardly ever means it’s time to rest; it’s either time to practice, or compose, or—his favorite—busk in parks, or metro stations, or the Trocadero plaza if he’s feeling particularly fancy. It’s not so lucrative that he can quit his other job and focus just on music, even if that would be the ultimate dream. But it gets some extra cash in his pocket, and he’d be either deaf or stupid if he ever tried to claim that his ma never taught him the value of a euro.

He decides on a bench nearby, where there are plenty of people scattered across the grass, picnicking and laughing and reading under the early summer sun. Sometimes he wonders what it might be like to belong to one of those groups, instead of half-being part of them online, but all it takes is the pop of his case and his fingers on the strings and knobs to remind him that everything he has is right here.

Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take a moment or two after he’s eaten, with his permit clipped to the belt loop of his pants and his guitar in his lap, to fish his phone out of his pocket and scroll through his notifications one last time. It’s funny; when he started up this account, it was mostly to have a corner of the internet to himself, where he could share a few unbridled thoughts and a few more composed ones, maybe throw in a Kitty Section promotion or a clip of his latest project. Now, with a handful of new followers and likes and reposts in the double digits, he kind of has to wonder if this is his brand. Awkward musician mini-posts about a girl he’s not so scared to talk to but can’t get up the nerve to Talk To, just because it’s “wholesome.” Complete with that emoji that looks kind of like the pair of puppy dog eyes Juleka gives him when she tries to paint his nails a color that isn’t black.

And then he has to wonder, yet again, why so many people would be so invested in something like that. Why they’re so bent on following a saga about his…

Well, it’s not really a crush…

Is it a crush?

Oh, Jesus, no. Of course not. It’s not as though he spends every waking hour what it might be like to hold her hand, touch it beyond the occasional brush when they exchange boxes and cards. What it might be like not to have to apologize for bumping into her, or holding her attention for too long. It’s not as though he’s constantly imagined an evening moment that belongs to just the two of them, his guitar soothing her away from the pendulum swing of utter chaos and mind-numbing boredom that lives behind the register. And it’s not as though he’s felt the phantom bumps of her knees against his, or the quiet but intentional stroke of her fingers over his knuckles, or the solid feeling of their heads pressed together just before she tilts her own.

…Well. Not all the time.

Luka stuffs his phone in his pocket before he can think any more about what this is and what this isn’t and what he feels and what he doesn’t. He plucks out a few scales and takes a deep breath or two—sometimes he needs to do that to remind himself that he’s a performer, a musician, he’s doing his job and he can claim this space as much as he likes. And then he starts to play.

That’s all it takes. A few bars is all it ever takes for anyone to get as closee as they can to knowing him.

Within seconds, his fingers are dancing along the fretboard of his guitar, playing fanned-out tunes, drippy arpeggios pinpricks that demand to be heard among the background echo of notes gone by. Every chord with its own texture. Every song with its own color, following the ebb and flow of choked strings. He barely realizes he’s swaying and tapping his heel to his own craft, mouthing the lyrics to songs everyone here must know, until the first person approaches and drops a bill in his case. The patrons trickle in after that: some pass by and pause to spare him the courtesy of a removed earbud; some look up from their books and start to dig around in their pockets or their bags. One girl even kicks off her shoes and pulls her boyfriend up to dance with her, and maybe that doesn’t put food in his belly, but it’s something he can carry with him like the blessed photo of his sister that he kept in his worn-out wallet.

He doesn’t look up or open his eyes often—only to nod in thanks to those who are kind enough to pay him. The one time he looks up of his own volition, he lands on a boy and two girls, seated on a pink plaid picnic blanket and chatting excitedly. One of the girls, who has dark hair in a braid and her back turned to him, suddenly swells and sits up on her knees, all animated gestures as she gets to her feet and rounds her friends, evidently to demonstrate something.

His body remembers to keep playing, but the rest of him stops.

Marinette.

The other girl clicks for him then—the reddish hair and the glasses from his delivery to the bakery—just in time for her to make eye contact with him and for a sly smile to spread across her face. She looks up toward Marinette, says something he’s grateful he can’t make out, and when Marinette looks his way with a dove’s eyes and a deer’s stance, he only winks at her and goes back to his playing and swaying.

GOD, he screams to himself. WHY DID HE DO THAT?

He doesn’t dare look up again at least until the end of the song, and it’s a miracle that he plays even better than before he noticed her. When he does, Marinette is still watching him—has she been the whole time? Eventually, and out of the corner of her eye she kneels to gather up her friends’ trash, and she tosses them into the bin nearby. Very, very nearby. And then she kneels down again—very, very down— and drops a couple of bills into his case. It takes the rest of his bravery to lift his gaze toward her.

“First you ‘tip’ me,” he says, one hand on the guitar and the other making air quotes. “Now this?”

“Oh, come on,” she shoots back, smoothing out her skirt as she sits beside him, in spite of how her friend ribs the boy and nods their way. “This doesn’t even come close to how you’ve basically helped keep my parents’ business in the black. Besides…” She nods toward his case. “Now you can’t say you didn’t work for it.”

“Trust me.” Luka pats the body of his guitar, biting back a told you so and the urge to wonder why he feels so sure of himself. What witchcraft the guitar is working to make him feel this way, or if it’s the guitar at all, or whether all it does is make him look like a total douchebag. “I’ve been working.”

“So you can play.” Marinette crosses her legs and her arms, which accentuates the new jade pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. Probably a souvenir from Mrs. Cheng, or a gift from family she’s never met. “That’s not the same as being in a band.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in one. I’ll prove it to you, if you want me to so badly.”

She grins, and it makes every hair stand on end under the heat of the sun. “Oh, yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“Come on—a musician never reveals his secrets.”

“That’s a magician, Luka.”

This time it’s his turn to smile, just as he fights back the flare of adrenaline. “Who says I don’t make magic?”

Yeah. It’s definitely the guitar.

“So,” Marinette says. She gives a passerby an admiring look when they stop to drop a few coins in his case, and Luka can’t tell if she’s doing it to thank his patrons or lure them in. “Do you take requests?”

“What’s the matter?” Luka strums a chord, wiggles the fingers that aren’t pinching his pick. “Don’t like my take on popular songs?”

“It’s not that.” She sits back on the bench like she really intends to stay awhile. Like she doesn’t have two friends who are staring at her so intently, either because they’re waiting for her to come back or because all they’re missing is a bucket of popcorn to split. “I guess you just always gave off the vibe that you had some kind of… angle, you know? Like, you’re the type of guy who hears colors, so people can give you a color and…” She shrugs. “You could play it.”

Luka tilts his head. “I can hear colors.” And moods. And hearts. And I’ve been stuck on yours, exactly how you think I mean it, for days. “I just never thought of it as an angle. Just an inspiration.”

Marinette blinks a couple of times in surprise, the sort that only says she wasn’t expecting his answer and thankfully not the sort that might imply that she knows what he’s thinking. “Oh. Well. Um. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You have something in mind?” He nods toward his case; might as well spare her the awkwardness he knows too well. “You know. So I can work for it.”

She takes a moment to think, seemingly grateful to be relieved of an apology, and she sits up straight only when she meets eyes with her best friend. “Something blue,” she murmurs after a while. “I wouldn’t mind hearing that.”

She says it, and Luka thinks of her without having to look at her. He smiles to himself, adjusting his guitar in his lap and pressing his fingers to the fretboard in the almost-right way. “There’s a saying about that, where my family’s from,” he replies, just loud enough for her to hear, and he begins to play as close to her eyes as he can manage. Pulls her into his world, this place between thoughts where he can get most things just right without having to say anything, where he’s the only person that anything makes sense to—him, and anyone willing to listen.

It feels like Marinette’s willing to listen.

The notes trail off once he reaches the part he hasn’t quite figured out, the sparkle in her eyes he hasn’t , and he’s felt her gaze on him long before he cuts the music and looks her way. “Something like that?” he says. It’s only then that he notices the extra money in his case, and judging from the look on Marinette’s face, she wasn’t the one who put it all there.

But she smiles at him all the same, gets to her feet and dusts off her skirt. “Something like that,” she replies. And then, before she returns to her friends. “I guess this is where I can find you now, huh?”

Like that’s supposed to mean something.

Is it supposed to mean something?

“I mean,” he says. “You could order something again.”

“I mean,” Marinette says back, “I could pick up a couple more shifts at the bakery.”

Luka doesn’t bother with his phone, or any technology, until he gets home—long after he’s settled below deck. It’s only then—because of course it’s right then—that inspiration sparks like a match. Only then that he scrambles for cables and plugs and the laptop he and Juleka used to share until they gifted her a new one for university.

song update. better quality than my phone, even. hit that play button, pals. and thanks for the likes.

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream II

Paring: Iris West x Barry Allen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 6, 097

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool; Summary: His response is to tilt his head to the side and gaze down at her, eyes tracing the length of her legs and the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. He lingers on her cleavage and this time, when he meets her eyes, she feels it, the sensation like she’s been put on simmer, like he’s warming her slowly, easing her into her own combustion, sparking like the lyrics to this song, and then you, came to save the day and I must say, you may have done some more. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

It's Cool

My escape from everything

Please say you'll be my nothing

And I will give you everything

Man, you are really something else

On Friday nights, Iris spends time alone. She lives in a relatively small apartment near Central City U’s campus where she makes peanuts as a teaching assistant while she completes her journalism master’s. Her weeks are long and arduous, what with attending her own classes and all but teaching the ones she assists. Her evenings are often spent eating turkey sandwiches with one hand and completing assignments with the other. And when those are done, she logs into her blog, What a Life You’ve Lived, and types up the stories people send to her. That part doesn’t make her tired; no, she likes being able to tell others’ stories, likes that they trust a woman they’ve never seen to tell their lives in a way that they might not ever see.

But it’s still why, on Friday nights, she pours herself an overfull glass of wine, fills a pipe bowl with some of the marijuana she gets from the dispensary by Linda’s place, and orders Thai food while she watches something from her Netflix or Hulu queue or sometimes she listens to music. She’s already showered, wearing a pair of green silk shorts and a matching tank top, pretty cream piping along the top of the tank and the hem of the shorts—she doesn't always dress like this when she’s home alone; she just likes the feeling of the silk on her skin when she’s high—and her hair is already wrapped and tied with her scarf when the doorbell rings. She frowns at the door because she’s only just ordered her pad Thai noodles and those spring rolls she likes, and there’s no way the delivery is there yet because she always sets the order for when she’s sufficiently intoxicated.

She figures that it could be her brother Wally or even Linda because they’ve both been known to drop by without calling. A touch annoyed, she goes to the door and swings it open, ready to go off for interrupting what they know is her self-care night. But then she’s stopped short, the music still playing in the background—you caught me at an awful time; see i just lost my smile—because it’s him.

Iris’s liquor-soaked memories don’t do him much justice because there he is, live and solid. He is tall, even taller than she’d thought as she stands in her bare feet. He’s lean, the dark jeans hanging off his hips and his plain gray shirt showing off the corded muscles in his arms. There’s a tattoo sleeve on his right forearm, a complicated bouquet of flowers that doesn't take away from the masculine energy he exudes standing at her door, his hands stuffed in his pockets. She can tell now that his hair is brown and a little bit messy, as if he constantly runs his hands through it. She does a quick scan of the rest of him: dark moles dotting the skin of his throat, thin pink mouth, the hint of a 5 o’clock shadow covering the cut of his jaw. It’s still his eyes, though, that gets her. It’s not only the color of them—somehow blue with hints of moss and gold or maybe they’re like moss with hints of gold and gray—but it’s the way he’s looking at her too. Like they're always searching, and that is what you helped me find; hadn't seen it in a while, looking for what she won't reveal.

She knows that her night set only just covers the swell of her ass and dips down in her cleavage. She knows that she’s scrubbed head to toe in her rosewater body butter. But he, he looks at her like he knows it too. Like he sees all of the tawny brown skin she’s not showing, like he’s seeing something, something more than the wide set of her full mouth and the whiskey chocolate of her eyes.

“Hey,” he speaks, and there’s nothing particularly memorable about his voice, but the tone of it is low, and it sends an involuntary shiver through her.

“I know this is weird,” he continues, “and you can definitely tell me to leave. But I didn’t have your number or even your name, and I’ve been thinking about you all week and…” He tapers off, and Iris lets her eyes travel up the length of him once more.

“Wanna come in?”

She doesn’t know what possesses her to ask—okay, maybe that bit about thinking of her all week helped—but when he nods, a smile easing on his face, her heart starts doing that seizing thing again.

She steps aside to let him in.

He sees the shoes she’d worn to work sitting by the door so he toes off his own sneakers beside them and Iris has to stop herself from acknowledging what they look like next to hers. Instead, she watches as he takes a look around. She’s proud of what she’s been able to do with a consignment shop and limited funds. The focal point is an overstuffed sofa in a light gray and its matching armchair; a multicolored rug with bold hints of sage and orange lies under the dark circular coffee table which is the same color as the bookshelf against her wall, the six shelves teeming with books, as well as the TV stand. She’s got some early artwork by a few Black local artists on her wall, a couple of her favorite quotes printed and framed next to them.

The room feels smaller with him in it. While Iris is no nun, it’s been months since a man other than her brother or dad has been in her home and it feels...strange. The air seems denser somehow, heavy—heavy with the cloud of tension that hovers around them, heavy with the knowledge that the print of this man is still one that she can feel in her body when she falls asleep at night.

She notes that his eyes track the grinder and pipe in plain view on her coffee table and when she faces him again, his eyebrow is lifted.

“Do you partake?” she wonders.

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Will you tonight?”

His response is to tilt his head to the side and gaze down at her, eyes tracing the length of her legs and the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. He lingers on her cleavage and this time, when he meets her eyes, she feels it, the sensation like she’s been put on simmer, like he’s warming her slowly, easing her into her own combustion, sparking like the lyrics to this song, and then you, came to save the day and I must say, you may have done some more.

He licks his lips. “Yes.”

He tells her his name is Bartholomew Allen.

First, she goes into the kitchen to grab another of the long-stemmed wine glass that the professor she works for had given her as a housewarming gift. Then she eases down onto the sofa before she spreads her arm in an invitation for him to sit too. She pours from the bottle of wine and hands him the glass; he takes it from her, fingers grazing hers where they’re cupped around the bowl.

“My name is Bartholomew Allen,” he says, sort of abruptly.

She blinks over at him, a corner of her mouth lifting. “Your parents named you Bartholomew?”

“It’s a family name,” he adds, and though there’s no hint of embarrassment in his voice when he says it, Iris sees the way his cheeks flush red.

It makes her smile. All she has are the hazy images of him in her head: the way he’d boldly walked up to ask her to dance, how the kisses he’d pressed into her skin had been sure and all-encompassing. There had been no blush to his cheeks that first night when he’d been whispering into her ear; though Iris does recall how the rest of him had turned this same lovely shade of red, like a tinge of wine under his skin, when she had grabbed his ass to push him deeper into her.

In any case, Iris hadn’t thought of him like this, blushing at something as simple as his name and this dichotomy endears him to her.

“But you can call me Barry,” he says after taking a sip of his wine, almost like an afterthought.

“Well, Barry,” she says, “I’m Iris West.”

He looks at her over the rim of his glass. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Iris.”

It’s atypical of her, she knows, inviting this man back into her house like this. Her police captain father would warn her that this is the way that women die. Wally would tsk at her with only slight disapproval, more specifically concerned with the fact that she hadn’t bothered to learn his name before she’d let him climb into her bed. It isn’t a habit of hers, one-night stands (or two nights, she supposes, after tonight) with pale-skinned men from clubs she rarely frequents. But that day, last Saturday, she had gotten an email from the professor of her Feature Writing course with harsh feedback on one of her assignments, and Wally, only in his junior year of undergrad, had canceled their dinner, and she hadn’t updated her blog in what felt like weeks and…

And she’s been in such a space of discontent lately, with the rigid monotony of her days, the school and work and school and work, and she has spent more time than she realizes alone. Her best (and really, her only) friend is in the stages of a building relationship and her dad is too. She’s got people, she does, but they seem so tangential these days. So on Saturday, she’d put on a dress that had shown too much of her brown skin and shoes that had given her more legs than most men know what to do with. And she’d walked down along the aptly named Bar Street, past the uh, I won't love a ho, after we fuck she can't get near me, only bitch I give a conversation to is Siri and the so when are you gonna tell her, that we did that too? until she’d come to the door of something sultrier calling out to her, as seductive and enticing as a siren, and she had answered.

Then, somewhere between her third tequila and her ninth or tenth song, hope that's cool; ‘cause i'm really not trying to, impose but I suppose that, i'm supposed to be here, with you, Barry had come to dance with her, with the long line of his body following her rhythm and the pleasing smell of the lemongrass on his clothes and—for the first time in longer than she cares to admit—Iris had begun to feel.

It explains why she let him come home with her a week ago. It explains why he’s in her apartment now.

“Iris?” She hears Barry call her name, and by the look on his face, she knows it isn’t the first time he’s tried to get her attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she nods. “Sorry about that. I space out sometimes.” She points towards her table. “Shall we?”

He looks at her a little unsure, as if he wants to say more, but he eventually just nods in agreement. “Sure.”

She leans forward and grabs the grinder. The first time she smoked weed, she’d been a freshman in college. As cliche as it sounds, she’d had a roommate from Colorado who’d brought a stash with her and had offered a hit to Iris once at a house party. She’d liked it immediately, had liked how her brain had cleared, as if someone had wiped away all the writing on a chalkboard, erasing the mounting pressure of being the first university college kid in her family, of being the example for her brother who was ten times smarter and twice as reckless; had liked how much lighter her body had felt, as if she was floating, lying upon a cloud or somewhere even lighter, even higher.

She’s not a heavy smoker, the practice delegated to her Friday night routine and only in the couple years since it’s become legal recreationally in Central City. Still, she can’t help but feel a little nervous right now as Barry watches her pull the small canister towards her and open it. She makes quick work of pinching out a couple nuggets of the blue city diesel she prefers and grinding it up before packing the bowl of the pipe. It’s a pretty thing, made of glass in a dark green with blue and orange swirls. There is the flick of the lighter, and Iris brings the pipe to her lips and inhales.

She can all but feel the smoke flowing through her body, unbending her spine and relaxing her legs, curling in her lungs and moving to her head, making the thoughts there—the stress of classes, the constant sting of loneliness, and even the simmering tension she feels with Barry next to her—start to scatter until they’re no longer noticeable.

She passes the pipe over to Barry, who takes it from her gingerly, the tips of his long fingers brushing her again. She shivers, but she doesn’t acknowledge it, instead leaning back onto the couch, her legs crossed in the seat, as she watches him. He flicks the lighter a couple of times before it lights, and then he fires at the weed and takes a hit. His skin shades the faintest hint of pink and then he pulls the pipe away from his mouth and coughs, a deep cough that waters his eyes.

“You okay?” she questions. He nods as he passes it back. They do this, back and forth, until Barry breathes the smoke in easier and Iris falls even deeper into the couch. That’s when the doorbell rings.

“It’s the food,” she says and Barry is on his feet before she can even make sense of it. “Wait, I have money,” she tries, standing, because this is a mom-and-pop sort of pace and they still do their own delivery instead of going through the more expensive, albeit convenient, routes.

By the time Iris has grabbed her wallet from her purse, Barry is grabbing food and saying “Thanks, man” to Tony, the tall bearded college student who normally delivers it to her.

“Oh what’s up, Iris?” he says to her when she peeks around Barry’s shoulder.

“Hi, Tony. Do I owe you the same?”

“Oh, your boy already got it.” He smiles, a dimple winking at her in his bronze skin. “Y’all have a good night,” he adds and then he winks at her for real before disappearing back downstairs. She backs up to let Barry in the door.

“Barry, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I’m crashing your night and I’m smoking your weed. It’s the least I can do.”

Iris hums, looking up at him. He’s sort of pretty, she thinks absently, with his eyes like gems and his pink mouth, his expression soft and earnest.

“Come on.”

Iris always orders way too much food, usually with the intent to eat off the leftovers for a couple of meals. It’s a spread, with walnut shrimp, a green/ginger salad, pad thai, Bangkok chicken, and several Thai spring rolls, so it's definitely enough to share. She inhales several forkfuls of noodles while Barry attacks the Bangkok chicken. They eat in relative silence, the music still playing in the background, with eyes are sad, i smile, i think you'll find, you need me just like i need you, yeah; but it's cool, we ain't gotta be nothing, it's true, i'd actually prefer it, yeah; it's on you, it's on you, it's on you.

It’s when they’re done eating, when Iris has placed the containers in the refrigerator and they’re both snuggled deeper into the couch, wine glasses close by, that their night really begins. Iris has packed another bowl and takes another hit. And with a lungful of smoke, she asks,

“What sort of music do you like to listen to when you smoke?”

“I don’t think that I smoke enough to know.”

She hands him the bowl and grabs the remote to the smart tv, pulling up the playlist she’d made for nights like this. It gets longer every couple of days, songs that catch her fancy, songs with beats that sing as much as the artists, songs that seep in like the weed does, running through her like the blood in her vein does. The song plays—and i'm not even gonna front, at first i was just tryna fuck, but you have got me so in love, so deep in love, so please be love—and Iris closes her eyes, savoring the mellow sound of the music.

She takes pulls from her wine glass as Barry smokes and then the actions reverse. They take turns, back and forth, until Iris feels her lids drop, sees the slight haze that covers everything in her sight. Barry is sitting at the other end of the chair, but Iris swears that she can feel him, feel the solid heat of him, feel the touch of him like prickles on her skin. When she gazes over at him, positioning herself so that her back is against the arm of the chair and her painted toes just miss Barry’s thighs, she finds that he’s looking at her again.

“What?” she asks.

He shakes his head, indicating nothing, and the movement is slow, stilted. But then he asks,

“How do you feel, about my showing up here?”

She shrugs. “Surprised,” she tells him. “That you wanted to come; that you remembered where I lived.”

Barry chuckles, a low, gentle sound. “I only remembered because of the wreath, the sunflowers.”

She doesn’t add this, though a surprise, is not one she dislikes. She likes his company, even if she can’t name why.

“Barry,” she calls, to grab his attention again, and the way he tilts his head in acknowledgment makes her think more intently on the words of this song—and I'm not even gonna lie, i wouldn't mind if we just lie, together 'til the end of time, if that is fine with you, it's fine with me—and she shakes her head at the thought.

“Hmm?” he hums, eyes never wavering.

“What made you come here tonight?”

She’s sufficiently high now. She’d been careful not to overstuff herself with food and both the wine and diesel have done their job. She feels both languid and like she’s soaring, all at once. The music helps and she’s waiting in anticipation as she waits for his answer.

It’s slow coming, his answer. Before he responds, he touches gingerly at her bare ankles, fingers skimming along the bones of one and then the other. His fingers are warm and Iris feels the light callouses there, shocked at the sensation of the roughened skin on hers, how the touch sends sparks up the lines of her legs. He brings one of her feet up on his lap, and it seems so small in his hands. He presses his thumb into her instep, glides it down to the heel, and back up. Iris lets out a moan, the sound inaudible over the music—definitely love, definitive love—but the tiny uplift of the corner of his mouth suggests he’d heard it, and he grabs her other foot and repeats the action. Then he says,

“I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory.”

He trails his fingers up her left calf, still kneading her right foot. “I kept thinking of you,” he tells her, “about the taste of your mouth and the grip of your slick, and I had to know if I was only drunk and making it up.”

It’s the sensations that make her respond the way she does. It’s the easy purr of keyboards she hears behind Jhene’s dulcet voice; it’s his touch, how it seems to reverberate through her entire body; it the smell of him, of the room: the fainting smell of the smoke and the rosewater butter on her own skin and what she imagines it’ll smell like mixed with the scent of him that she remembers, the notes citrusy and bright.

“Me too,” she tells him. “I woke up on Sunday and I could still feel you. You were gone and much of you was a memory, but the feel of you was still there and…”

(and I wanted you to still be here, wanted to make a lasting memory, a real one, that would keep me warm when school and wavering friendships couldn’t)

But she doesn’t say any of that. Barry has all but mentioned he’s come over to sleep with her again and she can admit that the thought does have immense appeal, even if it’s not the only thing she thinks she wants from him.

She leans up and moves her ankle out of his grasp; he raises an eyebrow at the loss of contact, but then she widens her legs and reaches for him, grabbing at his shirt to pull him on top of her. He comes willingly, hovering above her, holding himself up with one arm on the top of the couch. All Iris can think about is the weight of him on top of her, how guarded it makes her feel, how secure.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice quiet against the strain of the music from the television set, though she’d been the one to pull him in. He presses his body down, and her legs part automatically, craving him there again. She can tell that he’s high, in the red of his eyes and in the slow ways he’s talking, weighing every word before he lets it out.

“Yes,” she responds, just as quietly.

This seems like a moment here, one Iris can’t make sense of, not knowing what he’s here for. But he’s looking at her like she’s something, like he sees her, and it’s, it’s electrifying.

So when he leans down and kisses her, she leans up and gives it back, letting his mouth work her over. Barry is a good kisser. He starts out easy, slow, just his mouth moving against hers. His lips are soft and he tastes like wine and, somehow, the sex she knows they’re about to have, and the thought makes her close her eyes as she gives herself over to him. He licks at the seam of her lips, bites down her bottom one, and then licks at her again, demanding entry. She opens for him, eyes fluttering closed as he takes full control of her mouth. He sucks on her tongue, and then her lip again, and then he’s back to working her over with his mouth, the kiss wet and sloppy, increasingly erotic.

He is hard between her warm thighs, the solid long length of him, and she has to touch him. She rubs her hands down his back, over his cotton t-shirt, and then up under, along his spine. He shivers on top of her but doesn’t stop kissing her. She keeps one hand running up and down his back, loving the feel of him beneath her palm, and she fingers along his torso with the other, light touches that make his belly clench, that make his hips flex into her. He hums into her mouth, a sound more like a low growl, and it vibrates through her body, moving until it pulses between her legs. She moans in response, and it is that that breaks the kiss. Barry pulls back to look at her, and she likes that he looks a little bit wrecked. He stares down at her, drinking her in, and she knows what he must see: her thighs parted, with the hem of her silk shorts riding high; one strap of her top hanging off her shoulder, her breasts heaving as she tries to catch her breath; her full lips puffy and likely red from his bites; her eyes wide and blown, the dark of her pupils slowly overtaking the brown of her irises. Even her scarf has half-fallen off, and she should care that her hair will be unmanageable tomorrow. But when Barry tilts his head with a question, she lets him take it off and toss it onto her coffee table, and then he leans up, eyes never straying from hers.

“Barry?” she calls but pauses at the look in his eyes.

He fingers at the bottom of her top. “Take it off,” he tells her.

She responds to the slight command in his tone, clenching her stomach muscles as she leans up just enough to pull her tank over her head. He’s kneeling between her legs now, looking down at her breasts sitting heavy on her chest, nipples puckered under his gaze. He hasn’t even touched her yet, and she’s ready. It doesn’t make sense, how responsive she is to him, but she is, even when he’s just there staring.

“Barry?” she calls again, and she thrusts her hips, infinitesimally. It makes him look away from where he’s trying to memorize the weight of her breasts, the smooth tawny brown color of them, the darker areolas, and even darker nipples.

“What are you doing?” she asks, when he doesn’t respond to her.

“Looking at you,” is his too calm answer.

She nods, but huffs out a little breath in annoyance. “Okay, but can you…” fuck me, is the obvious response, but it doesn’t come out as that; instead, it’s another thrust of her hips, her constantly swelling sex rubbing his hard thigh. Barry licks his lips and looks down at her.

“Can I what, Iris?”

“You know,” she says, and squeezes him with her thighs.

“Hmmm,” Barry murmurs. “I don’t know that I do.”

This time, she catches his gaze, noting the glassy look of his eyes, the color grayer in this light. Iris wants to moan at the sight of him.

“Don’t play with me, Barry,” she grumbles, hoping that if she imbues a touch of menace to her words, he’d go ahead and put her out of her misery.

“No?” He lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to play with you, Iris?”

She can’t answer, because then he’s reaching down and parting her thighs wider, enough that Barry can slide the wide leg of one side of her shorts over and expose her pussy to him. She clenches when the air hits her, and then again when Barry slides the tip of his middle finger down the middle of her slit.

She moans, her breath catching at the end of it when she looks down to watch his pale digit disappear inside of her. He dips in and out and in again, and Iris can’t stop watching it. She’s already wet, and his finger is glistening.

“You sure you don’t want me to play with you, Iris?” he asks her, dipping his finger all the way to the knuckle. He brings it back out, and then begins to rub her own wet over her lips. Down the side of her vulva, up the other side. Parting her lips with just that one finger. Sliding in again to gather more of her slick and start his trek over again.

Beneath him, Iris is...a mess. The one finger isn’t enough; she’s too wet for it and she keeps closing around nothing. But her breathing is only growing more labored and she can't. stop. watching. It should be embarrassing; her shorts are soaked through and Barry is still fully clothed, but she can’t be. The look of his long, rough-tipped fingers playing in the pink of her pussy so wholly arousing that she literally thinks that she can come like this.

“No, I,” she tells him, panting. She licks her lips, tries again. “This is…”

“This is what, Iris?” he asks, his cadence still heavy, and honestly, how the fuck does him just saying her name get her off like this. “Use your words, baby.”

“Fuck,” Iris moans.

Barry has the gall to smile. “That’s one.”

“Fuck you,” she moans again.

“Yeah?” Barry questions and he leans down, pulling his dirty little finger out of her and wrapping that same wet hand—wait, how is his whole hand wet—around her waist. He hovers over her, lips just a breath away from hers. “You ready for me to fuck you now?”

She huffs out a surprised laugh. “God, you’re a little bit of a dick.”

“And you’re ready for it now, aren’t you?”

She gives up on trying to be coy. “Yes,” she nods.

Barry has to stand to get out of his clothes, and Iris tries not to whimper at the loss. He pulls his shirt over his head, and Iris sees that his sleeve of flowers extends to his shoulders. He pulls his pants and boxers down, slipping out of his socks too, grabbing his wallet to pull a condom out before tossing it back down on top of his clothes. She watches as he rips open the wrapper and pulls the latex out, pinching its tip and sliding the condom down his length. He’s long and swollen, thicker, maybe, than she remembers, and she finds herself enamored as she watches him touch himself, fingers caressing the thick head and down his shaft.

“Take those off,” he tells her and she didn’t even realize she still has her shorts on. She peels them off, tossing them to the side, and then Barry is between her legs again. He grips her thighs and spreads them, one knee digging into the sofa close to her chest, the other planted high up on his hip.

He rubs himself along her once, making sure she’s still ready for him, and with a hand gripping her waist, he slides into her. She can feel herself opening for him, stretching to make room for him. He pulls out, just to the tip, and then he pushes back in, deeper, harder, and Iris gasps out a long “oohhh.” He rocks up into her, long strokes, slow strokes, like he’s got all the time in the world. She hears herself, she hears them, the wet sound of her pussy taking him in.

“Listen to you,” Barry whispers as he reaches down and thumbs at her clit. “You’re so wet, baby. God,” he groans. “Do you always get like this?” He fucks into her harder, still maddeningly slow, but fuck if it doesn’t make her swell a little more, gush a little more. “Or is it us? Is it me that gets you like this? Dripping out of that pretty little pussy like this?”

“Fuck, Barry, shit.”

He leans down again, until his chest is brushing her. The action plants him deeper, and he fucks into her, steady, persistent. He’s so close that Iris doesn’t know what to do with herself. He’s holding on to her waist, pinning her down on the sofa, and his pelvis brushes her clit with every downward stroke.

“Bar-Barryyyyyy.” Iris throws her head back, eyes clenched tight as she comes with a low, drawn-out moan, her hips bucking frantically as she squeezes wetly around Barry.

He pulls out of her and starts to move the sofa cushions from the back of the chair. It gives them more room and Barry sits down until he’s half laid out, back against the arm of the chair and legs spread on either side of her, one bracing on the floor.

“Lay on your stomach,” he tells her, “and then push your legs under mine.”

She does as he says, still a little sluggish from her unexpected orgasm. This move puts her ass in the air, and Barry grabs at her hips to bring her back to him. She looks back as he’s lining himself up with her again, and then he’s bringing her down on him, opening her up for him again. They both moan at the contact this time, Iris still sensitive from moments before. But he seems even harder now, even deeper when Iris leans forward to grab onto the other end of the couch. He guides her for a stroke, two, three, until she catches onto his rhythm, and begins to fuck herself back on him. He’s so deep she figures she could feel him hitting the bottom of his stomach if she focused hard enough. She bounces on him, keeping up his slow pace, and he gives her a hard squeeze around the waist for her efforts.

“That’s it, Iris,” he murmurs. “Ride me slow just like that.”

She’s always liked dirty talk; there’s something fully stimulating about a man making it known that he’s enjoying being with you. But this, this is different, and Iris can barely stand how much she’s turned on by him talking to her like this.

“You feel so good, Barry,” she tells him.

“Yeah?” He juts up into her, faltering a rhythm, making her fall even deeper into the sofa, making him fall even deeper into her. “Tell me what it feels like.”

She licks her lips, swallows. She’s never…

“It’s just me and you,” he says, sensing her hesitation. He stills her hips and straightens his torso, bringing her up as much as she can. He turns her head so that he can see her eyes. He moves away the hair that’s fallen into her face and gives her a quick peck on the mouth. “It’s just us, okay?”

She nods, and moves back into the comfortable position, back to grinding down on his dick, squeezing around his dick.

“Shit, Iris, that’s it.”

“You feel good,” she tells him again, firmly. “You’re so thick, so hard, I can’t even…” She falls forward again, and Barry gives her one hard slap down her ass cheek. “Barry!”

He soothes the sting with the palm of his hand, rubbing in small circles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet in my life,” she confesses, softly, truthfully. And that must have been what Barry was waiting for. He takes over, holding her hips in a death grip and he pounds into her. The slap-slap of his skin on hers is loud, the squelch of her wet, profane. She can feel her belly tighten again, the tell-tale sign that her orgasm is imminent. Barry’s is too, she can tell. His movements are more erratic, slow and then fast and then slow again until reaches out and presses a thumb to her puckered hole peeking back at him. That’s the end for them both. Iris screams out, her back arching deeply, just as Barry stills and empties into the condom, his dick throbbing against her walls as he does. She falls face forward into the sofa, still sitting on Barry, trying to catch her breath. It’s only then that she notices the music still playing from the television—infinite love, yeah; i've been wrong before, but this time I am for sure; it's you; something you did made me feel it deep in my core—and she asks for Alexa to turn the television off.

That throws the room into stark silence, except for the sound of their heavy breathing. She doesn’t know how long they lie there, but Iris thinks she could be almost asleep when Barry shifts up and out of her. She knows that she’s likely gonna have to deep clean the sofa tomorrow.

“Iris,” Barry calls moments later, and she turns her head to the side to see him standing beside her, his soft sex sitting on his thigh. He must have thrown the condom away already.

“Hmmm.”

He chuckles. “Come on, baby, let’s get you cleaned up and we can go to sleep.”

She nods slowly, and sits up, letting him take her hand to lead her into the bathroom. She tries, though she can’t say how much she succeeds, at telling herself that this, that this is nothing.

And it's cool

Think that we're up to something

But it's on you, it's on you, it's on you

It's on you, it's on you, it's on you

It's on you, it's on you, it's on you

It's on you, 'cause I'm cool with nothing, yeah

'Cause even nothing is something

[shining-red-diamond]

In the Frozen

Words: 4.6k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Rating: PG-15

Warnings: mentions of blood, brief birth scene, and some violence

Summary: After General Christopher Bang defeats a ferocious dragon, he is finally able to marry the princess and do his best to run a peaceful kingdom with kindness. However, when the princess awakens on a winter morning to discover her husband, the most decorated and heroic knight, missing, she knows something isn’t right. She wants to go out looking for him, but there’s a problem: she’s expectant and due any day. Will she be able to find her beloved Christopher before she has to give birth to the future prince or princess?

-

General Christopher Bang was one of the king’s finest and most decorated soldiers. His leadership and skills helped him climb to the rank of general. He fought bravely and was loyal to the king and his country, but he was known for his kind soul. Chris never boasted when he talked about his battles, never was prideful, and never was cross with a soldier if they messed up. Children also looked up to him as a hero or as someone they wanted to be like when they grew up, and he enjoyed telling the children slightly exaggerated stories of some of his adventures.

But with all of his amazing battles and journeys he had led, his greatest adventure to him was meeting Princess Y/N. The two first met when an assassin of the rival kingdom had threatened to kidnap her before murdering the king and queen, and Chris served as her bodyguard. Over the course of a three-month war, the two became close; and by the time the war was coming to an end they had confessed their love for each other. The summer was filled with a budding romance, and the fall and winter was spent by a cozy fireplace. However, she was still the princess and had been promised to various suitors, but she could never see herself happy with any of them. Y/N only had that kind of love for Chris. As kind as her father was, he wouldn’t let her marry anyone that wasn’t of royal blood. After he was to pass on or decided to step down from the throne, he would be passing his crown to his son-in-law. Y/N would inherit the queen’s crown at the same time.

However, after some time, the king finally agreed to give Y/N to Chris if he could slaughter the beast that terrorized the forest surrounding the kingdom. The general accepted the challenge with the reassurance that if he survives, he’s marrying Y/N for love, not for the crown. Of course Chris loved the people of the kingdom and wanted to protect them, but being king wasn’t on his agenda. He promised that if he was to be crowned king in the near future, then he would rule with kindness and love.

The general gathered his army of 3,000 soldiers, built their strategy of taking down the creature, and set off into the forest. After four long days of battle, injuries, and fifty-seven losses of some of Chris’s men, the creature, a shadow dragon, was finally slain. The people celebrated the victory with a festival, music, and a parade. The fallen soldiers were given a memorial, and General Bang married the princess.

For about a year and half, the entire kingdom had a period of blissful peace. The villagers went about their everyday lives, political issues with other kingdoms were resolved without war, and Y/N and Chris were experiencing the ups and downs of their first year of marriage; but the couple was crazy for each other each passing day.

Soon, the news came that Y/N were going to have a baby, and the kingdom was overjoyed with excitement about a new prince or princess in the royal family. All was at peace.

Or so they thought.

…

The early, winter morning sun shone through the bedroom windows with a soft orange glow. Snowflakes could be seen lightly falling outside, giving the view an almost magical feel. The room itself was nice and warm, and Y/N was beginning to awaken from a sweet dream.

Her eyes fluttered open just in time to see her maid Ryujin open the door and carry in a tray of food.

“Good morning, miss,” she greeted with a smile as she brought breakfast over to her.

“Hello, Ryujin,” Y/N said groggily as she sat up. She then noticed that Chris wasn’t on his side of the bed. “Where’s Christopher?”

The maid placed the tray in front of Y/N. “The general had an emergency call this morning. Did he not tell you?”

“I don’t believe he ever came to bed last night.”

Y/N retraced her footsteps from the day before. They had spent the day together organizing things for the baby such as its bed, where the toys went, and even old children’s books Y/N had saved for this occasion. When they had finished they took a walk in the greenhouse that protected most of the plants that would be placed in the garden once spring approached. After dinner that evening, Chris was called to an emergency that he couldn’t ignore; but he promised that he’d return.

“He had an emergency call yesterday,” Y/N said. “How could have one this morning? He would have woken me up to tell me.”

“Maybe he was in a hurry, miss,” Ryujin shrugged. “Shall I start a bath for you?”

“Sure.”

“Warm water with Epsom salt?”

“You know me too well, Ryujin.”

“I’ll have it ready by the time you finish your meal,” the maid promised and headed into the bathroom.

With the sound of the bathtub facet turning on, Y/N began to eat her breakfast of fresh berries, yogurt, and eggs and a glass of water stood at the corner of the tray.

Y/N was never really a breakfast-in-bed person, but as her baby bump swelled throughout her pregnancy she found it harder to get out of bed to join her family for breakfast. Chris always made sure to massage her feet or do something to ease any pain she might have been experiencing that morning, and he would sometimes eat an apple as he tried interacting with his wife’s bump.

Chris’s absence this morning was making Y/N feeling uneasy. He typically would come to bed about the same time she would be falling asleep, but she never felt his presence the night before. She didn’t want to assume the worst, but she couldn’t help the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. And it wasn’t the baby’s feet kicking her, which interrupted her thoughts.

The fetus developing in her liked to move around a lot, and Y/N always found herself giggling because of it. It typically happened whenever she was having a meal or if she was talking to her unborn child. Now, that she was due any day, the movements weren’t as frequent. Y/N worried that she was losing her first baby; the doctor had reassured her that the child was alive but now had limited space within the womb. The baby had also moved into position for birth, and Y/N was still counting down until delivery.

“You’re bath is ready, Your Highness,” Ryujin called from the bathroom doorway right when Y/N finished her breakfast.

“Thank you,” she replied. “But can you help me up.”

Ryujin was already at her bedside and gently helped the princess to her feet.

After a blissful and calming bath, Y/N felt fresh as a daisy and threw on a comfortable, baby blue dress to meet her parents in the throne room. She managed to half-waddle through the castle halls, and a few maids kept a keen eye on her as she carefully stepped down the stairs. Two guards pushed open the throne room doors, and Y/N found her parents in discussion with some of Chris’s soldiers.

“Mother?” Y/N called out to the queen.

“Good morning, darling.” Her Majesty threw her arms open to hug her daughter.

“What’s going on?”

The king dismissed the soldiers before turning to greet to the princess with kiss on her forehead. “How are you today, my dear?”

“Wanting an explanation. Papa, why were Chris’s men here just now?”

The queen took her by the hand and guided her to the princess’s seat next to the king’s. “You better have seat.”

Y/N eased herself into her chair and locked eyes with her parents. “If something has happened to my husband, I have the right to know.”

“Y/N,” the king said, “Christopher is missing.”

Her heart began to pick up speed. Her hunches had been right, but she didn’t want to believe her father.

“No,” she argued as she shook her head. “That can’t be. He’s on an emergency call, isn’t he? That’s what I’ve been told.”

“We thought so, too,” said the queen, “but when the guards told us he had never returned within the hours he had promised, we knew something wasn’t right.”

The kind then explained everything that had happened that morning. One of the guards had discovered that the emergency call was just to lure General Bang from the castle and into the snowy forest. However, when the other knights went to see if he had possibly returned, they only found his horse running out of the woods a nervous wreck as if he had seen a monster. Reports of a beast lurking deep in the woods had also been buzzing around the kingdom for a few weeks, but nothing serious came of it. That’s when the king decided to send a search party for his son-in-law.

No one ever went into the forest unless they were traveling along the path that led to the other kingdoms. Children and teenagers would go a few feet in but only to play games. The likelihood of someone needing help in the woods was low but not impossible.

With the new information she had now, Y/N began to cry. Her beloved husband was out in the woods somewhere with possibly no food or anything else for survival. She was scared the beast might have gotten him.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” the queen cooed as she embraced her for comfort. “But we’re going to do everything we can to find him.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Y/N asked through her sobs. “I want to find him.”

“We know,” said the king, “but in your condition, we can’t have you wandering off.”

“Especially now with the baby coming any day now,” added the queen.

“But you have our word that whatever news we get, you will be notified.”

Y/N sighed. “Thank you, Papa.”

“How about a walk in the greenhouse before lunch?” the queen asked.

…

For the next three days, everything seemed to turn into a routine: Y/N waking up alone, eating breakfast in bed before a morning bath with hair washing every couple of days, a walk in the greenhouse with the queen, a nice lunch, and meeting with subjects before dinner. Very little news came from the search party except if they found something that had been on Chris’s person the day he disappeared: his sword, pieces of his armor, and eventually his helmet. However, despite never finding a body, some of the knights were starting to presume their general was dead.

Y/N refused to believe her husband was dead. The knights were starting to give up on the search, and Y/N begged them to continue until it got to a point where she was almost nagging them. They wouldn’t budge anymore, and the king and queen were starting to give up.

Now, Y/N had enough. She decided she was going to search for Chris herself. She knew running off while still very pregnant was risky, but she felt in her heart that Chris was somewhere. She just hoped he was safe.

Evening fell, and Y/N was rushing to pack any essentials she would need on her journey. Food, extra clothing, medicine, a thick blanket, a machete, two daggers were stashed into the sack she was bringing with her. The snow was falling softly outside, and everyone else had gone to bed; so Y/N had to work quickly before she could sneak out of the castle.

“What are you doing, miss?” Ryujin asked, startling Y/N. “My apologies, but are you heading somewhere?”

Y/N sighed. She placed the last cloak in her sack and said, “I’m going to find my husband.”

Ryujin opened her mouth to speak, but Y/N stopped her. “If it was me out there missing, he’d do the same. I know I’m days from giving birth, Ryujin, but I can’t sit here while he’s possibly lost out in the forest somewhere. I have medicine, herbs, food, and a cloak for him if he needs them.”

“It’s not just yours or his health I worry about,” the maid said before lowering her voice into a whisper. “It’s the beast out there.”

“I have a machete and two daggers I’m taking with me. It might not be the best protection, but it’ll give me a running start if I need it.”

“But-“

“No, ‘buts.’ I know I’m risking a lot-“ Y/N placed a hand on her watermelon belly “-but I want my child to know who his father is. If I’m not back in three days, send a party.”

Grabbing her sack, she left her room, leaving a shocked but hopeful Ryujin standing there to try to cover for her.

As soon as she sneaked into the castle’s kitchen, YN didn’t hold back and burst through the wooden door. She knew it wasn’t the best idea, but she was desperate.

Chris was out there, and nothing was going to stop Y/N from looking for him.

The cold air nipped at any exposed skin. Snow crunched beneath her feet as she ran in the frozen forest. The pale glow of the full moon was her only source of light in the forest, and she could hear the distance growls of the beast chasing after her. Y/N wanted to look back if it was behind her, but her gut instinct told her not to and to keep going. Her lungs were burning, screaming for air as she was running while heavy with child; but she wasn’t about to give up until she found some sort of shelter for the night.

She spotted an opening in the trees and a yellowish-orange light coming from it. As she got closer, she realized there was a cottage in the middle of the forest. Her feet picked up speed, but because of the darkness Y/N failed to see the branch that struck her in the head with a gigantic force. She lost her balance, but she still kept going.

Dizziness began to swarm her head, her vision began to cloud, but she managed to find herself in front of the cottage. Two figures emerged from the doorway, but Y/N couldn’t tell who they were. She felt herself fall to the ground, and the distance roar of the beast was the last thing she heard before everything faded to black.

…

“Is she going to wake up soon?”

“She hit her head pretty hard, so I can’t say when.”

“Not to mention, she was bleeding out, so she could have a headache when she wakes up.”

Two of the voices were unfamiliar to Y/N, but she could easily recognize the third one. However, she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not. Everything had echoed at first, but they steadied quickly.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Immediately, her head started pounding, forcing her eyes shut again; and she moaned in pain.

“Easy, dear,” one of the voices, which was female, soothed.

A cold, damp towel was placed on Y/N’s head, and she opened her eyes again. Three people were standing around her, one female and two male. The woman had a kind face and cheeks that were round when she smiled. One of the men had kind eyes and had a few tattoos covering his tanned skin. The third man made Y/N’s heart leap for joy when she saw him.

“Chris?” she muttered.

The soldier knelt down by her and kissed her passionately, Y/N’s fingers running through his jet-black curls. “Hi, my love,” he whispered softly with a smile.

“I thought you were-“

“I’m alive,” he reassured her. “Just injured.”

“Where are we?”

“Don’t worry, your Highness,” the woman said as she helped her sit up. “You’re safe with us.”

Y/N then took in her surroundings. She was in a double bed with soft and warm sheets covering her lower half, but she was now in a nightgown. A lit fireplace was across the room from her, keeping the cottage warm; and a kitchen and dining room could be seen from the doorway.

“Darling,” Chris spoke up, “this is Hyorin and her husband Taeyang. They found me after I had killed the beast and took me her to patch up.”

She now noticed the sling on her husband arm but was confused. “It’s dead?”

Chris nodded.

“How? What was it?”

“I’ll explain everything in a bit,” her husband promised. “Right now, you need to relax.”

Taeyang and Hyorin left the room and shut the door behind them. Chris sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his wife’s face.

“What were you thinking?” he asked.

“You’ve been gone for almost four days,” Y/N replied. “Everyone else was starting to think you were dead, and I got impatient.”

Chris couldn’t help but softly smile. His wife wasn’t one to give up easily and would willingly go to the ends of the earth for her loved ones if she had to. He couldn’t stay angry with her.

He planted a kiss on her forehead and said against her skin, “I’m alive, my love. I’ve just been healing and gaining my strength back.”

“What about the beast? If you killed it, then how come I could still hear it?”

Chris chuckled. “The mind can easily play tricks on a person. I’m guessing fear somehow got a hold of your imagination, and you began to hear things that weren’t there.”

Y/N listened to her husband’s tale from the time he left the castle the night of his disappearance until now. He had heard what sounded like a child crying for help coming from the forest. Upon arrival, he discovered it wasn’t a child but the beast. It had turned out to be a black snow dragon, which were descendants of regular snow dragons but much more ferocious. They mimicked sounds that appealed to their prey as a way to lure them close in order to have their feast; but Chris was cautious when he entered the forest. He was able to run before the dragon could snatch him up and eat him whole, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to battle it first. The dragon was stronger than its parent that had terrified the kingdom for decades, and it was near impossible to penetrate its tough, leathery skin. The only way Chris would defeat would to blind it before finding a soft spot under its black, chromatic scales to pierce the heart. He went into surprise attack mode, but not without getting beat up by the dragon.

Chris was successful in defeating the dragon, but his sword had been broken and his shoulder dislocated in the process. He was also bleeding badly, but he didn’t have the strength to get up to journey back to the castle or seek help. Eventually, he woke up to Taeyang and Hyorin tending to his wounds that he knew he was safe; but due to his injuries, he wasn’t able to return back to the castle.

“I’m just happy you’re alive and well, darling,” Y/N responded when he finished his story. “Your men were starting to give up and say you were dead.”

Chris faced palmed his forehead and exhaled in annoyance. “Those cowards. I taught them better.”

“All they were finding were pieces of your armor.”

“I took them off when I heard the dragon approaching. Metal against metal noises are what attracts them to their prey other than scent.”

“That makes sense.”

Y/N hand went to her bump and began to rub it gently. “Was it selfish of me?”

“What?”

“To rush into the woods knowing full well I could have put our baby in danger?”

Her husband sighed. “It was a bit reckless of you to run from the castle’s safety, but when I saw that you had brought medicine, food, and a blanket in the sack that was with you; I knew you were just wanting to keep the baby safe in case you had gone into labor looking for me.”

“But still, I’m sorry,” she began to cry. “I just had to do something, anything.”

“And you chose to come look for me?”

“That’s what I promised you. When we said our ‘I do’s,’ I promised that I would come looking for you.”

Chris paused for a moment before wiping her tears away and kissing her again. “And I made that same promise to you.”

He then lifted her nightgown, exposing her swollen belly before trailing kisses all around it. “And that promise get extended to you, little one,” he cooed to the unborn baby.

Y/N giggled as he did so, and the child kicked its feet in response.

“Will we be able to return home?” she asked.

“We leave at first light,” Chris said. “Since I’m mostly healed and you not having any other injuries, Taeyong and Hyorin will help us get back.”

“How far is it?”

“Only a mile and a half, so not far at all.”

…

As soon as the early, winter sun began to break through the forest trees, the quartet gathered everything they needed and left the cottage. The general was given a fresh sling, and new gauze was wrapped around Y/N’s head. Taeyang led the way as he walked in front of them, Hyorin had her arms linked with Y/N’s to help her walk, and Chris was behind them as a means of protection. The weather was just as ice cold as the night before, but thankfully it wasn’t a blizzard, making the journey through the frozen forest an easy one.

“Y/N, close your eyes!” Chris instructed his wife about three-quarters of the journey in.

“Wha-“ she asked, but was interrupted.

“Just do it! Don’t open them again until I say so.”

Without another word, Y/N did as she was told. Hyorin acted as her eyes as they continued through the woods. Y/N then smelt something without a warning. The stench of death attacked her nostrils so badly, she had to cover her face.

Her eyes remained closed for about ten minutes before Chris said, “Alright, you can open them now.”

Y/N fluttered her eyes open. “What happened?” she asked.

“We were passing the dragon’s corpse,” her husband explained. “It was decaying badly, and I didn’t want it to scare you.”

“I could smell it.”

Chris laughed. “Well, that section of the woods is going to stink until the body is all bones.”

“Your Highness,” Taeyang called. “Come take a look ahead.”

Chris and Y/N exchanged looks before taking each other’s hands and moving a few feet forward. Through the thinning trees, they were beginning to see an opening in the distance. They could see the castle walls. They were almost home. They could heal and rest in bliss before the baby arrived.

The latter was quickly thrown out of the window when a sharp pain shot through Y/N and liquid began pouring through her legs onto the glittering snow. Her knees buckled as she cried in pain, Chris catching her in the process.

“He’s coming!” Y/N cried. “It’s nearly time!”

Chris wasn’t able to carry his wife, so Taeyang was quick to scoop her up and carry her to the castle. They didn’t stop running until they had burst into the castle’s kitchen door and into the couple’s bedchambers. Everyone they had passed was trailing after them with millions of questions.

Taeyang gently settled Y/N onto the bed, and Ryujin escorted out him and Hyorin. As soon as they left, Chris and the other maids immediately stripped her of the dress she had been wearing and changed her into a clean nightgown. The general struggled a bit as his arm was still in the sling. A large towel was put beneath her to prevent any blood from getting on the bed once the baby was born. Ryujin rushed back in and quickly prepared a large bowl of water.

“General,” Ryujin said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Are you sure?” he asked as he stood from where he was kneeling, not letting go of his wife’s hand.

“Honey, just go,” Y/N whimpered. “You’ll get to see the baby when he or she is born.”

“I don’t want to leave you, though.”

“Please, Christopher. The doctor can check you over to make sure you’re one hundred percent healed.”

He kissed his wife passionately. “You can do this.”

Ryujin escorted him out.

…

“Keep pushing, Your Highness,” the midwife encouraged Y/N. “The head is almost out.”

The princess had been pushing her child out for the past half-hour, and the pain was almost torturous and unbearable. Every now and then, an uncontrollable yelp of agony would escape her mouth after each push, but she never allowed herself to scream. Y/N was tired, and she was close to giving up. Ryujin kept whispering words of encouragement.

“One more push, and the baby with be born,” said the midwife.

General Bang had returned from his exam after being told that his injuries were healing nicely. He wasn’t allowed into the bedroom yet, but hearing his wife’s cries of pain worried him. He wanted to break the doors down, run to his wife, and pepper kisses on her face; but he knew his son or daughter would be arriving any moment, so he would have to be patient. Chris just sat on the floor in the hallway as he awaited any news.

Then, he heard it. A newborn’s cries echoed from the bedroom, and the general felt his heart pick up speed. He was nearly jumping out of his clothes when Ryujin came and opened the door and said, “It’s a boy.”

Rushing in with excitement, Chris found his princess still in bed, a little sweaty and looking exhausted, but he could see the overflowing look of love in her eyes. His attention then went to the tiny baby swaddled in Y/N’s arms, and he knew he was in love.

“He’s perfect,” he smiled before kissing his son’s little head. “Hi, Maxwell.”

“Maxwell?” Y/N repeated.

“Max for short,” Chris chuckled.

...

Within a few days of baby Max’s birth the kingdom celebrated his arrival and the general’s return with a feast and a winter festival. Taeyang and his wife Hyorin were rewarded for their hospitality and kindness and given positions as the royal medics for the army; Chris was given a medal for slaying the beast, and Y/N had been rewarded for her courage and love.

“Y/N,” Chris whispered to his wife during the festivities as he was holding his newborn.

“Yes?” she said.

“I really hope peace maintains throughout the kingdom. Max deserves to grow up being the happiest person in life.”

“As do I, but since that peace got shattered for us right before his birth, can we agree to stay alert no matter what?”

“Of course, my love.”

The two shared a long, gentle kiss, promising to always protect and care for their people and family with love, kindness, and courage.

-

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed this. I’m sorry if it seemed rushed in some parts, but this was my first long fic. I had fun writing it, so hopefully my long fic writing skills will get better.

[early20thcenturynerd]

“Margetta Hirsch Doyle ’45 was a regular student at William & Mary. Her friends called her ‘Getta’ and she was a Kappa Delta. Doyle kept a diary and wrote about her philosophy quizzes, described how much she enjoyed making Red Cross surgical wrappings and mentioned hours spent spotting airplanes from campus buildings. Doyle was a student during World War II.

During the second World War, William & Mary became a predominantly female campus. While many college-age males fought abroad, women kept up the war effort from Williamsburg. In between their studies and social life, students volunteered with the Student War Council and the American Red Cross. Along with other service work, they, like Doyle, made surgical dressings and spotted airplanes, sometimes in groups and sometimes alone.”

Margetta Hirsch Doyle’s Entries for September, 1943:

SEPTEMBER 1

Mother roused us early since Beth and Kay had to go to work - Lou and I trailed sleepily after them. “Goodbyes” were said and Lou and I with Mother, talked and talked about how to improve KΔ. It was much the same stuff, but with new ideas. We finally managed to dress for a late lunch at the Chinese restaurant in Jamaica and seemed to stuff ourselves. Louise hopped a subway and Mother and I met Herbert (a date - hey! Even if he is just 13) and saw “Hers to Hold” with Deanna Durbin and Joseph Cotton (Ah! Such a man!) and “Crime Doctor” with Warner Baxter at the Valencia. Letter from Danny saying she and Fred have made up. I’m so very glad! Nana came this evening.

SEPTEMBER 2 

So lazy! I drooped in bed reading and dreaming till it was well nigh noon and my guilty conscience forced me into a more active life. Once I was up I drooped some more and got out my “old faithful letters” to pore over again. They’re all so “cute” and ego-bolstering. Reading them over I can ignore the intervals between, and toss off the carburetor ones as unimportant. Such nice boys! Dad came out, still feeling rotton - and contemplating the date of his operation. Pat called - gave me a message from Bell that he’s rooting for me to go to Hamilton the 11th. Gee, I’d love it, but Mother and Dad are very uncooperative. I spose they’re right. We invaded Italy’s mainland!!

SEPTEMBER 3 

I’m beautified - or rather - attempts were made. At 9:00 a.m. Mother and I were down at Robert’s and my hair was going through the mechanisms necessary for a permanent. I was amazingly through in two hours - it looks fairly all right considering……….. Mother stopped at O.C.D. and then we had lunch at the Fish Grotto, And on home. This evening I went into the city up to Victor Chemical’s office to be shown around by Bugsie. We met Mr. Cotton, her boss and he gave us bourbon to sip. Stirred, we walked crosstown to Toffenetti’s where we met Ev for a crazy dinner. Such fun. Then a walk uptown to Radio City. We saw Cary Grant (Mmm!) in “Mr Lucky.” The stage show had no continuity but the Corps de Ballet act was super.

SEPTEMBER 4 

The beginning of the Labor Day weekend. It doesn’t seem possible - my, how the summer has flown by!! Today was completely uneventful and unexciting. I drooped in bed once more till just before time for Daddy to come out. He brought cake as usual. The rest of the afternoon was spent in listening to the Dodgers-Giant's game which the Dodgers won in the seventeenth inning. I pored through old diaries and really laughed at them. Admittedly I’m still rather dramatic and I do exaggerate - but - Gad when I was a Senior at St. Mary’s I really laid in on thick. Such gushing! I really ought to turn over a new leaf. I called Bugsie, Joanie and Pat Brennan.

SEPTEMBER 5 

I roused myself from my lethargy to be ready when Aud called for me to go to church and communion. The sermon was quite good: cooperation in order to have World Peace. I came home feeling real holy for a change. This afternoon Bugsie came by to laugh over old diaries with me and talk about things in general. Then she and I walked back to pick up Irene - and so a trek to Tildemann’s for gooey calorie-filled sundaes. Our conscience bothered us but we enjoyed them anyhoo and sat smoking and listening to the juke box discussing the Reader’s Digest statistical conclusion that after the war 7 out of every ten girls will be old maids. Cheerful prospect! Gee things are bad enough without thinking of that.

SEPTEMBER 6 

Happy Labor Day! and it was quite happy too, considering - this morning we revived the matter of this next weekend, which had been sort of lying dormant till then and Mom and Dad said I definitely couldn’t go up alone. There was little I could say and I spose I really see their point but I do want to go to Hamilton so very badly. We sit upon the idea of Bugsie’s going with me so I sent a special delivery to Bill and am keeping my fingers crossed till I hear. This evening after Dad left on the spur of the moment Mother & I hopped a bus and went to the Alden to see revivals of Clark Gable & Claudette Colbert's Academy Award Winner “It Happened One Night” and Ronald Colman in “Lost Horizon.” I wonder what my Shangri-La is!

SEPTEMBER 7

I slept late again, getting dressed time to meet Mrs. Brennan and Pats. We went into N.Y. to see “This is the Army” the Technicolor movie version of the army show. It really was terrifically good - the music, acting, vague plot to connect the two wars and color were all grand and I enjoyed it as much as, if not more, than any other picture in a long time. After the movie we went into Dempsey’s and sipped cocktails, and then they came home with us for dinner and to talk and reminisce and plan for awhile. They’re real nice people - I like 'em good inspite of everything. I heard from Dossie and Eddie Damm - also a sweet letter from Freddie enclosing a picture of the girl to whom he’s engaged for me too see!

SEPTEMBER 8

A nice day! I met Lou at Roosevelt Avenue just before twelve and then on to New York to mosey around Lord & Taylor’s trying to get decorative ideas for improving the KΔ house but things were too extreme for our collegiate ways! Then we went to the Gypsy Tea Room for lunch and to have our fortunes told - very interesting! After that we went to the Ambassador theater and saw “Blossom Time” - music costumes and acting were swell - good show about Schubert’s life and music. I met Mother and Dad at Dempsey’s for dinner and sat at the table next Jack and his two children. After that - back to the H.G.C. meeting at Jeannettes for gab - nothing exciting. Italy unconditionally surrendered to the Allies. Best news since the war began! Is victory nearer? I’m so glad!!

SEPTEMBER 9

Today started off pretty well. Mother and I went into New York and bought me my beauty of a red three-piece suit (The pockets on the other had been cockeyed!) and a cute black hat too; so I glowed with it all. We skirted the big Parade (opening 3rd War Bond Drive!), had a sandwich at the Milk Barn and then went to Robert’s where I had my hair shampooed and set (first since after the permanent!) We came home and Nana was here. Very bad news! Bill had tried to call me last night but I was out, as tonight he called again, and the result wasn’t too cheery. It seems there’s a convention in Clinton over the weekend and cause I hadn’t let him know sooner he couldn’t yet a room anyware. God I’m so disappointed. I’d wanted to go so badly. We talked for quite while and he seemed as disappointed as I. We haven’t really talked in so long, and it’d have been wonderful. Oh hell!

SEPTEMBER 10

I turned completely tragically dramatic and sobbed all last night so that this morning my eyes are just slits. I hadn’t really cried in ages and splurted forth all I’d saved up. Silly, but I really cleaned out my nasal passages! Mom decided to pacify me with a program of activity so we went into New York for a Chinese Lunch at the China Clipper and then went to the Roxy to see “Heaven Can Wait” with Don Ameche and Gene Tierney - very amusing and I liked it good. We went to Saks for a pair of jodphur pants - and then to Dr. Weiss for the usual. We met Dad at the Boar’s Head on Lexington Avenue and our mouths watered over good soft shell crabs. Glory came over late in the evening, and spent the night. We talked n’ talked - slept together in the double bed and were real restless.

SEPTEMBER 11

An active day! Fairly early, Bugsie and I dressed in our riding togs, and after meeting Cam, Aud and Irene we trekked to 188th St. and hopped on horses. At least the rest hopped but not having gone in over two years, I was more or less shoved on by an innocently obliging bystander. Once we started posting and cantering through Cunningham Park however it was wonderful and the ride a beautiful one. Irene fell off to lend excitement. We went back to Glory’s for lunch and chatted awhile; then, this evening rather unexpectedly, Glory, Aud, Irene, Cam, Edith and Jean all came in, and we howled hysterically over old diaries of Aud & Irene revealing their “supreme thrills” of grammar and high school days. Jean’s baby’ll arrive the end of February supposedly - it doesn’t seem possible. Anyhoo, the evening was fun!

SEPTEMBER 12

Limping and nursing sore aching muscles, Aud and I practically dragged ourselves to St. Gabe’s this morning and squirmed on the comparatively hard wooden seats. Mr. Condit is back for his first service of the new year and is really a marvelous rector. Mr. Judd has accepted an offer at Christ Church outside of Philadelphia, and will leave St. Gabe’s the end of this month. After church we stopped at Glory’s for a few moments and then home. Mother, Dad and I to celebrate the lifting of the pleasure driving ban, drove to the Triangle restaurant for a good dinner - and then home again! The Germans have occupied Rome and Italy and Germany are now fighting - the quirks of alliances of warfare. Our forces are fighting too and Italy’s surrender isn’t as optimistic as first thought.

SEPTEMBER 13

Yesterday morning’s muscle weariness was eased by a lovely mail today. I heard from Bill Boyd - back from maneuvers and writing again at last. He's still waiting for his transfer orders to the Air Corps, and wrote a long perkish letter while waiting. Then - Floyd - till in San Francisco - wrote a wonderfully philosophic gem expressing his emotions on going overseas. It was really good! This afternoon Mother and I went to the Valencia to see Merle Oberon and Brian Aherne in First Comes Courage (the usual spies-and-commandos-in-Norway stuff) and Donald O’Connor in Mr. Big - a cute jitterbug job. Tonight, Glory, Aud and I went bowling and had a stupid old time again. I bowled 78 - an improvement over last time - but not too good! I blame it on my muscles.

SEPTEMBER 14

This morning was dedicated to a series of “friendly discussions” before I went into the city to meet Cary, back from her two week’s jaunt in Kentucky, Annapolis, Washington, etc. We talked a blue streak to catch up on what had passed in the meantime. Two friends of hers were there from Annapolis. We had a sandwich next door; they left and we spent the afternoon trying to pick up Cary’s bags at Penn Station. I met Mother and Dad at the China Clipper for dinner and talking and so on home. Confusion! I got a special from Bill Brennan enclosing another letter he’d sent me -- addressed correctly -- but which had been returned to me. If I’d gotten that letter in time, the room situation could have been cleared up and I might have gone to Hamilton. Damn the post office!

SEPTEMBER 15

An emotional day! It was cloudy, so we couldn’t go on our boat trip as planned. Instead Mother, Louise and I went to the music Hall to see “So Proudly We Hail,” the epic of the bravery of the army nurses on Bataan and Corregidor. It was powerful! The stage show Minstrel Days was quite good too, though different from the usual Radio City ones. Louise and I met Cary on 29th Street at 4:30 went to the Little Church Around the Corner to see Marty and Tommy, married. We stood and beamed and felt quite parental as we shook our heads, saying it doesn’t seem possible! though we knew they’d really been planning it for ages. They’re both swell. Lou and I came home on the 5th Avenue bus to Jackson Heights. Tonight Mother & I went over to Thompsons to see Jack & Margie. They’re going to Eustis!

SEPTEMBER 16

I should have left for Billsburg today but am extremely grateful for the extra week at home. Excitement came this morning when the radiator leaking from my john made the downstairs hall look as though it had been blitzed. What a mess! This afternoon mother and I went over to Jersey, stopping at Aunt Bert’s and then at Aunt Fan’s. I saw Ruth’s two-year old baby Gail and loved her immediately. She’s a darling! The afternoon was pleasant - tending towards the crazy. We then went over to Brooklyn and met Dad for dinner at the St. George, and so home in the downpour. Nana was here. After awhile I went to bed and dove into the new Good Housekeeping.

SEPTEMBER 17 

Once again we’d planned on going 'round Manhattan Island in a boat, but once again it kept raining instead. So I went into Brooklyn (riding on the train with Mrs. Ingold) and met Dad for lunch. It was the first “date” we’d had in ages so we kind o’ talked as I munched on my shrimp curry. We hopped a subway and went back to the office for awhile, stopping to buy stockings on the way, and I generally messed up his business day. It was fun and executivish though! This evening I went over to Glory’s and peeked at the preparations for the shower she gave for Doris De Brodt Deane; and then Mother, Lizzie and I went to see “The Student Prince” starring Everett Marshall. It was very good - another of the epidemic of operetta revivals!

SEPTEMBER 18

“London bridges falling down….. Falling down…..!” Where we had Niagara Falls in the downstairs hall, the plasters are today pulling the whole darned business down, till the ceiling lies in chunks on the floor and dust from it floats throughout the house choking us off as we try to breathe. Ah! for the well-ordered peace of a boiler factory! This morning Mother and I went to Jamacia to buy last minute powder puffs, toothbrushes and emory boards, and pick up a pair of moccassins and a pair of black non rationed shoes, which I treasure as a good bargain. We were s’posed to go to Connie Korn’s wedding today, but being the last weekend home and all, we didn’t, so I thought hard about her instead. And so have two KΔs bit the dust in the same week!

SEPTEMBER 19

The last Sunday at home! Aud and I went to St. Gabe’s where Rev. Condit preached with a voice which kept failing him on account of a cold - the service was usual We had roast lamb for dinner and then discussed the pros and cons of driving down to Billsburg with Marjorie Thompson since Jack needs the car at Eustis. It would be exciting to take a long auto trip legally in gas ration days but it might be complicated too. I think we’ll do it though! Afterwards, Glory and Aud came over and we trekked to Tiedeman’s for sodas; rehashing the problem of “So Little Time - and so much to do - and so many friends to want to be with.” Dad should have gone into the Waldorf for a convention (W.S.J.A.) but stayed here instead. - I wrote Danny, Colby, Bill & Bill.

SEPTEMBER 20

A lovely mail, being as how I heard from Bill Boyd (enclosing a cut cartoon from Yank, the army newspaper) whose transfer orders have come through, but who doesn’t know where he’ll be sent yet! Then too, I got another real nice letter from Bill Hughes - still in Australia! This morning, I went to the dentist for a checkup and for the first time in really ages, I have no cavities. My teeth have passed the adolescent stage! Then I moseyed around Jamaica, after which I came home and baked cookies (sending most of the better ones to Bill Brennan) Cary came out this afternoon and to spend the night - Glory and Aud came for dinner too (steak - how dreamy!) We hysterically played bridge, being interrupted by a blackout and then all walked Audrey home.

SEPTEMBER 21

Such a beautiful day! I woke early to keep my 9:00 a.m. dentist appointment and had my teeth cleaned till they sparkle. I hopped into riding clothes - saw Cary on her bus - and met Joanie for a wonderful ride in Cunningham Park. Peter Pan cantered like a streak of greased lightning and we flew along. It was really swell! Joanie treated me to a coke too and after awhile came over to the house to buy me a War Bond. (I’m crazy - I mean “sell” me a War Bond!) so I backed the attack! Mother and I went to Robert’s where I had my hair set for the final time, and then came home waiting for Nana’s arrival. Dad’s still at the convention. Surprise! Bill Brennan sent me 16 American Beauty roses with a really perky card enclosed. Gosh I’m so very thrilled!

SEPTEMBER 22

Being my last day at home, it was a busy-beaverish one. When I awoke, I wrote Bill Hughes and a perkish thank you note to Bill Brennan - also answered the letter which came from Corporal Eddie Damm. After that we packed suitcases and then drove over to take my ticket to Louise, stopping for a lengthy chat. We ate a Chinese lunch at a restaurant by the Queens Bors Hall, and then went to Jamacia and bought several pairs of pants and a pair of pajamas. Dad came out early and told us of his troubles a la business world. He’s really doing the job of three or four men plus the Post War Planning and National Bond, etc committee stuff he has to do. I went to a H.G.C. meeting and said “Goodbye” to all the girls.

SEPTEMBER 23

The official end to the summer and a real wonderful one it was too. Mother, Marjorie (both of her), Cary and I sent ourselves down in the ’41 Packard snuggled in with suitcases, boxes and the like. It was blissful to ride in a car after the years of gas rationing. We stopped on the road and ate a picnic lunch, which Aunt Bert had made. Most all the way, Cary and I burst forth into song and the time passed quickly. We reached Billsburg at 8:00 and had dinner at the Lodge - then, real excited - we came back to the house and saw everybody. Doggone, I do love it so good! It’s super being with all the gals - specially Beth and Punchy! So very much fun! A stupendously perky letter from Bill Boyd

SEPTEMBER 24

We slept and talked in bed still after ten really catching up on the news of each other’s summers. This morning Beth, Punchy and I went downtown to buy grapefruit juice for improvised breakfasts of the future and to look into the bank account and cafeteria book situation! I met Mother and Marjorie for lunch and spent the evening with them too. I wrote postcards and read Life and the Saturday Evening Post. I met Chuck Gondak and talked familiarly with him for quite awhile. He wants Punchy and me to work for the telephone co again this year at the U.S.O. It’d have been fun but we’ve got too much else to do. Fun tonight in the room!

SEPTEMBER 25

A busyish day! This morning I tiptoed around not to wake the fair roommates as I dressed for my 8:20 appointment with advisor, Dr. Marsh. Surprisingly I had no conflicts and am now officially taking Money & Banking, Statistics, Accounting, Marketing Principles & Problems, Introduction to Business Enterprise and General Psychology plus gym of course. It sounds kind o' stiff but after all, I’ve come to college, essentially to exercise my gray matter. I spent the morning with Muggy Pratt and trying in vain to locate my trunk - I still have no shoes - and ate with Beth & Punchy at the dining hall - this evening I went to the Lodge with Mother and had dinner. Hell! Wouldn’t you know! Bill Hughes wrote me from Boston - he wanted to come see me in New York this weekend. Two days too late!!

SEPTEMBER 26

Sunday, and a busy one too! This morning we trekked over to Chandler and picked up our little sisters to take them to Bruton - mine, Gin Tunstall, is darling! After the service, we went to the dining hall for the traditional southern fried chicken and ice cream - and then back to the house to prepare for the influx of freshman girls making a tour of the sorority house. The same things were said over and over again - with slight variations of course, and our jaws aching from smiling sweetly as we said them and as we listened. It was fun, in a boring sort of way. Beth, Punchy and I went to the Lodge to meet Mother for dinner. We laughed a lot and were most unsophisticated.

SEPTEMBER 27

School bells chimed again and I am officially a Junior - it’s so impressive being respected for a change! I only had three classes. Dr. Foltin stood us up for Psych and after standing around in the hall for awhile we left for the Wigwam to buy books. I became nasty when I discovered I had to pay $24 for beatup secondhand books too. Marketing sounds fascinating - full of merchandising and advertising, the sort of stuff I want. Rhythms only lasted five minutes, which was a lovely sort of gym class. Mother came to the house this afternoon and offered ideas on redecorating our room. It sounds dreamy! May they materialize! There was a W.S.C.G.A meeting tonight with the usual welcomes & news about a German Club dance for the A.S.J.U. boys. House meeting afterwards and then bull sessions about rushing and sex

SEPTEMBER 28

Right about now we’re in a mad dash of enthusiasm - we’re all out for studies, all out for extracurricular stuff, and all out for improving the house, and KΔ in general. Such a busy little year as it’s gonna be! Money and Banking, Business Enterprise, Statistics and Accounting all involve scads of work and I groan under the weight of it. Oh, for just one snap course - it’d be so refreshing! Mother, Holly Miller and I had dinner together at the Lodge and then I went to the Flat Hat Business Staff meeting. We were assigned ads to get so I will merrily trek around town having people sign contracts and pay money - I hope! We get commissions too. Sorority meeting, though informal, was inspiring in its plans. I hope the spirit lasts! Letter from Edith and Evie

SEPTEMBER 29

A busy day, with classes from nine till 4:30P.M. with time out to see Mother off on the morning train. It seems odd not to have her around anymore. Classes were still interesting except for Statistics lab which really is a stinker. If it weren’t required for my major, I’d gladly toy with the idea of dropping it, but grin 'n' bear it, say I. At 5:00 Beth, Punchy, Lou and I went to a Social Committee meeting for the War Work at college, where plans were made for various affairs to be given for the chaplains, their assistants, etc. After a cone at the Wigwam we watched the review of the A.S.J.U boys out on the football field. It was impressive - a far cry from the football rallies of a year ago. This evening, Midge and I went to chapel at which Dr. Foltin spoke and then I came home, washed my hair, did homework and went to a house meeting.

SEPTEMBER 30

Such a rainy day - I’ve never been so wet - honest! Life perked up though when Mr. Nuguist decided to make our introductory approach to statistics more simple and when I discovered that I like accounting a lot. We walked in the pouring rain to dinner across campus and were drenched to the skin. After our good vegetablish dinner we waded through the flooded paths with the wind blowing the rain in streams upon us to the Colonial Echo meeting - and got ourselves on the Editorial Staff. We were supposed to go to a Big-little sister party in Barrett but by then water was seeping through our rubber boots even and we gave ourselves alcohol rubdowns instead. A letter from Dossie and a card from Bill Boyd from Kansas City “en route to Mississippi”

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 26 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: News delivery.

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Alicia waited until she was alone, specifically waited until Loki was occupied by Thor for a "celebration" of a new heir. Apparently Thor had some sort of serious discussion to have with his brother meaning, Alicia was free for the day.

Alicia sat on the edge of her bed as excited butterflies danced in her stomach as she dialed the number. She grinned as joy bubbled in her as the phone went to her ear. Alicia allowed a small giggle to escape just for the sake of trying to sound normal once Marcibeth answered.

The constant ringing made the butterflies turn to a nervous fly waiting for the swat from a newspaper. Alicia's mind kept begging for Marcibeth to reply in someway with each brief second of silence then the next ring she lost hope.

Alicia huffed just as she was about to hang up before she heard Marcibeth answer, "hey. I'm in the middle of work currently."

Alicia's voice was higher and she spoke too quick, "Can I pick you up sometime? I have some news."

Marcibeth laughed, "you sound excited. I could hurry here. Give me about an hour. I'm actually in New York." 

Alicia heard metal clank against the other and she grimaced at the scream in the background. "Speaking of work… you got those cuffs?"

There was silence and then she heard a loud crack and muffled scream.

Marcibeth's voice was forced joy but it held venom, "Yeah I got them."

Alicia figured it was the current job and remained optimistic, "Great. I can pick you up and we can work with them."

"I'll send you my location."

Alicia looked at the phone weird when Marcibeth hung up abruptly. Alicia went to Emma and explained the training for the day. Loki was already in Asgard for a while so they did not need to worry about him.

About an hour after their conversation Alicia got a text from Marcibeth to pick her up. Alicia laughed when Marcibeth insisted on going to their "important information inquiry." It was a small restaurant they have not been in for a while. They got their usual greasy burgers, fries and a pickle for each of them.

Alicia smirked as she pointed a fry at her sister, "You remember the first time we came here?"

Marcibeth laughed, "yeah we snuck out to meet stupid boys. The losers ditched us and we came here for lunch. Dad was so pissed because we were gone for the whole day." Marcibeth stabbed a fry in ketchup before biting the bit that was covered thickly with the red condiment. Marcibeth's eyes went to the bustling street and narrowed as a man chased after a giggling child.

Alicia noticed her sour mood. "Has Fury updated you with any visions?"

Marcibeth glanced at the burger to pick it up then went to the surroundings of the little restaurant. Marcibeth's monotone voice was dull in Alicia's ears, "without you, I don't have clearance for that type of information. So no. Not really. Is there more?" Marcibeth took a bite of the burger and it smeared around her mouth.

"Dad is going to be fine. We get Luit and Edward in custody." Alicia tried really hard to be casual, "you are also going to be an Aunt."

Marcibeth stopped mid bite and her eyes went wide. "Aunt?"

Alicia nodded with a smile that threatened to tear her face in half.

Marcibeth's face scrunched, "now? I mean. We can't let you get in those cuffs."

"No..that vision is far in the future. I actually have my hair above my shoulders. Loki has a new hair cut too. It's really cute."

Marcibeth took a bite and chewed as she looked out the window. The grease from the burger glistened in the light above their table. Then she grinned with a side glance at her. "That kid is gonna be spoiled."

Alicia rolled her eyes, "you and dad are going to be terrible babysitters."

"Sugar them up, ship them home and leave you with the aftermath." Marcibeth took a huge bite and had to dart forward to keep new grease from spilling onto her lap. "You better eat, or those fries are mine."

Alicia set a handful on her sister's burger wrapper, "I will always take care of you."

"I am the big sister."

"But your heart is of a child."

Marcibeth grinned as she shoved a fry in her mouth and talked while chewing, "Abso-fucking-lutly"

Once in the car Marcibeth did not hesitate to turn up the music after connecting her phone. They sang to the pop and rock songs they listened to as kids. Neither of them missed a chance to point out each other's terrible singing. They purposely exaggerated the wrong notes or substituted the wrong lyrics.

Alicia laughed and Marcibeth told her when they hang out during all of the pregnancy Alicia is going to have to drink the kids fizzy non-alcoholic drinks while she has wine. Alicia told her to shut up at the teasing remarks fortelling Alicia is going to be an angry fizzy beverage drinker. Marcibeth did not lessen the teasing at all when Alicia agreed it was probably going to be true.

They were still laughing at each other as they walked through the tower. Tony, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Emma were looking at them when they went through the common area to the training rooms. Tony informed Alicia that there were cameras in that vehicle and threatened to put the recording on the news. Marcibeth grinned and dared him to. Alicia glared at all of them and told them not to even show it to Loki.

"What are you not showing me?"

Alicia squeaked at the pinch on her side. She spun around and smiled, innocently told him it was nothing. Then her face fell at the audio being played. 

Loki was making a good attempt at trying to hide most of his amusement. "Well Alicia.. I think you might be in a good line of business for making parodies."

Alicia put her hand on her hip and lowered her voice with a grin, "Well Loki, at least it shows my witty humor."

Loki eyed the bag in Marcibeth's hand… 

Marcibeth shrugged, "it's exactly what you are thinking."

Loki's voice lowered in anger, "I told you we were not doing this." Alicia started to talk but Loki held up his finger, "no." Loki's eyes were burning with rage. "I swore I would keep you safe. I am not going to let you put yourself through torture training."

"Then don't be present." Emma pushed off of the chair and grabbed the bag, "Alicia is going to need to practice using her magic immediately after being released. You know this."

Loki glared at Emma and Marcibeth as they walked away. Alicia seen Loki's hands fist and she grabbed it. She kissed his hand with a squeeze. "I will be fine." She turned and went to the room. Alicia stood in the center of the room. Marcibeth and Emma explained they would only do a max of 10 minutes. Everyone was there as the cuffs were put on her.

Alicia felt her body halt then a swelling sensation all through her. It was an excruciating pain as she felt like she would burst and splatter all over the room. Her muscles contracted as if to try and keep her body together. She was expanding and contracting at the same time and Alicia wished her body would explode.

Then the magic surged through her in a rush. It felt similar to a part of the body going to sleep after resting in an uncomfortable position. She opened her eyes with too much effort. She was laying on her side. She did not remember falling. Alicia ached with the effort to roll onto her side and sprawled out to try to even the tingling sensation and get something flowing right.

"This...is a good sign."

Alicia did not know who that was but said "yay" as she threw her hands up then let them fall to the ground. The impact hurt more than it should have and she felt the magic mess up in her upper body.

Emma stood over her with a paper ball. "Use a shield."

Alicia tried to force one out but the shield was too weak and the ball landed on her face. Alicia hissed at the sting of her magic as it spiked in some areas. She needed a cool bath.

"You sense it right? This is close to her magic flow as when she began. It's worse but we can work with it." That was Emma...

"I am not looking forward to seeing that again." Maybe Marci?

The sounds of the room mixed together and Alicia groaned as she rolled on her other side. A hand was on her and it was uncomfortable. She looked up and it was Loki. She tried to smile but it didn't feel right. She was exhausted. She grabbed Loki's hand and held it to her face. Loki scooped her up and walked swiftly with her as Emma was leading the way. Alicia had to shut her eyes from the nausea from moving so fast and then the loud rumbling sound that bounced off the walls and assaulted her ears.

She sighed at the cool water. She let her head rest back. Alicia opened her eyes as the thoughts were processed in her jumbled mind. Alicia observed the water littered with odd plants provided as Emma was throwing more random things in the tub. She saw her clothes were still on and another pair of legs. Her head rolled back again as she felt another threat of expelling the contents of her stomach. Her eyes crept open, familiar raven hair, emerald eyes seeming just as heavy as hers… 

"Loki she did very well. For her to even be able to roll over and materialize even a slight shield is great." Emma sat on the edge of the tub and touched the water. A glow emanated through the water. 

Alicia felt her magic relax and flow slower.  

Loki's low voice told Emma this was not happening again. Of Course they argued, they always argued over Alicia. She listened to them and did nothing to stop the bickering. She saw both of their points, Loki was worried and Emma's job was to prepare her for the future. 

Alicia was lifted and set on a hard bed. Loki covered her with a blanket and vanished her soaked clothes. Alicia let her gaze trail around in a med room. She was covered by more blankets that held weight to them. Loki stroked her head with touches that seemed erratic and distracted. 

Thor came in followed by the others in loud stomps, "Is she alright?"

Loki didn't take his relaxed eyes off her. "She will be."

Alicia's lips tugged a little as her eyes closed.

She awoke in a daze.

She was in her own bed. Loki was laying with her, actually wrapped around her with his heavy arm and leg. His eyes were closed, mouth opened and quietly snoring. 

Alicia heard a laugh.

"He thought covering you with his body would wake him when you woke up… but he just wanted to hold you." Emma went to her bedside.

Alicia yawned and tried to stretch but Loki's eyes shot open and he held onto her. She laughed after the yawn was over and held onto his arms. Emma announced Alicia was asleep for a little over a day and Marcibeth had to leave for a mission. Alicia thought it was odd her sister was going on a mission because she hated field work, did everything to get out of doing work that involved mobile targets. 

Emma was blunt and to the point that she did not care much for Marcibeth. 

Alicia changed the subject once her stomach growled. Loki and Emma agreed Alicia had to eat but she ended up getting sick. Emma gave her a simple broth with the disgusting Asgardian stuff in it. Alicia was able to keep that stuff down but that soup was what she ate for the next 6 hours then solids were added such as vegetables and noodles. Alicia's stomach became full and she dozed off as Loki was talking to her about something with having elders examine her at some point.

After a few days she was examined by elders.. they told her the magic she had was stronger than her body could handle. They suggested Alicia use magic every chance she got, to train regularly and focus on her control. There was another option..They could pass some of her magic to their child when the time came. It was a special spell performed on the mother. It usually was not used because Asgardians had bodies that could handle more power than Alicia had.

Once the elders were gone Emma came back and rested on the door frame with her arms crossed. "As soon as Luit and Edward are captive, you guys should get busy trying to start that spell."

Alicia felt heat rise to her face, then the butterflies about to force a childish giggle out but coughed to hide it. "We still have roughly six months."

Emma smirked with a laugh. "Well…"

Loki inquired quickly, "What's that's supposed to mean?"

Emma teased, "Loki...don't sound so excited. I'm just joking. None of us know when her visions happen." 

Alicia ran her fingers along his arm still resting on her stomach. Loki put his head in Alicia's hair forcing both women to laugh. Emma teased him about being a child for pouting.

Loki mumbled, "I'm not pouting. I am tired.."

Alicia kissed his head when Emma explained he stayed up reading her books and Loki lifted his head to glare at the healer. Alicia was released from her bed by a reluctant Loki once Emma permitted her movement. Everyone was gathered in the common room for dinner.

Tony pointed his fork at Alicia, "how are you feeling?"

Alicia shrugged, "I'm good."

"Do you need antibiotics?"

Clint laughed then seemingly unapologetically said, "sorry."

Alicia sent a muttered reply to Tony to shut up.

"So you will be able to go on tomorrow morning's mission?"

Alicia poked food, "Yeah. It's overdue. Assuming Emma lets me."

Emma begrudgingly spoke, "You have permission."

Tony stood and walked to the elevator. Then turned and said, "come on fortune teller."

Alicia grabbed her food and followed. Loki grabbed her food and told her she can wait. Alicia pouted but Loki pushed her along. Tony, Loki, and Emma led the way to Tony's lab. Alicia was put in the center of some circles in the ground.

"FRIDAY. Show sour patch kid her combat clothes."

The AI spoke, "enjoy playing dress up Sourpatch."

Emma snickered.

Alicia rolled her eyes, "Ha ha. Very funny." Alicia watched as a cylinder rose. It was an outfit for Alicia and she was urged to put the outfit on.

It was comfortable and flexible pants. A shirt that was made of the same material, sleeveless and turtleneck, just visible from the leather corset. The corset was black, covered from the hip bones to her breasts up to her shoulders. There was a pouch in the front to the side then the opposite side in the back. Alicia's arms were bare except for the leather arm bracers. Black leather boots that went to the knees. Alicia checked they had tread and a practical heel.

Alicia glared at the last item.

A hood.

It strapped onto the leather armor and had a strap across the chest too. An emerald green stone in the center.

The leather was black. The cloth material was white. Clasps were gold. The hood was black with white trim.

Alicia sighed as she walked out. Emma told her to put the hood up and Alicia did with annoyance. She complained hoods were impractical. Emma told Alicia her best weapon is her visions and it is wise to hide that from opponents while clearing her throat.

Loki approached Alicia and pointed to the stone. "Press this and it will keep you warm." Alicia felt material slide down her body as the simple cowl addition turned into a cape around her back and over her shoulders. "Put pressure on it for 3 seconds and it will alert us of your location."

Alicia heard the A.I. notify the tower of Alicia's location. 

Loki tapped the gem and it went back to the original form. He popped the gem out and it had a necklace he put it around her neck. Loki's eyes demanded her to look at his. "Wear this. Always. Swear you will use it."

Alicia sighed and looked at his chest. She saw his hand go to her chin and she turned away. Then his hand gently landed on her cheek but she still refused to make that promise. The first syllable of her name formed and then she looked at him.

Alicia stated, "This is not necessary. We all know I will be fine."

Emma said Alicia's name in that tone that screamed for her to be quiet. "How do you know this is not the thing that gets Loki to you?"

Alicia's eyes closed in frustration.

She had to be the worst witch. With no details how useful was she? Anyone knew were things would happen in a certain way. No only a standstill image. 

She paid attention to the thumb circling her cheek. Fingers pulling her and a light touch of lips to her forehead.

Alicia tilted her head down and leaned into Loki. "I will keep it on me."

Alicia wanted to test her outfit but mostly Emma insisted everyone see how she works now.

Alicia was able to keep a shield around her to keep herself safe and also to heal herself when she was in visions. Alicia was able to keep ahead for the most part of the training sessions and lasted longer without tiring. She was able to push the soldier back and knock them down with a push of magic.

Natasha took a try at her and Alicia was able to keep her at bay without much trouble. Emma showed that Alicia's shield was much better than before but also showed everyone her weaknesses.

Alicia's shield was strongest closest to her body and lost strength as it went further out. It could push people back though with a quick burst.

Alicia got hot as she used her self healing defense, causing her to get light headed if used too long.

She either could remember present visions and suffer eyesight loss.

Forget and be lost as soon as she came out of the vision, but have eyesight.

It was a long training session but Loki rewarded her. Or rather, Alicia needed relaxation from sore muscles.

Alicia sighed as Loki massaged her back, everything slow but firm. Alicia was pleased in every sense. She was relaxed by his touches. His loving words of praise made her heart soar. The smell of his sheets made her feel at home. They talked of the future with their child and gave her hope for a normal life that was always desired.

Alicia felt Loki hold her a little tighter and kiss her head, "What will you do once you are carrying my child?"

Alicia hummed, "drink sparkling juice."

She heard Loki's laughter as she welcomed sleep. His lips pressed to her head and his hands never stopped touching her with those relaxing caresses.

[celery8705]

Gondola Kisses

“Wow!” Bartz exclaimed palms pressed on the cold glass, as he looked out of the cable car’s windows with wide, fascinated eyes. The cable car approached a large gold structure that looked like a giant tree, with what looked like large mushroom-like sections. Bright lights littered the enormous sections and the tower itself, spotlights moving in a fixed pattern on the perimeter of the different sections. The sounds of happy music reached his ears, a catchy tune he found himself humming to.

Cloud sat across from Bartz, arms crossed, his glowing blue eyes fixed the wind warrior who knelt on the bench and watched the lively scene of lights and music before him. A small smile graced his features. He was glad Bartz found a distraction to his fears through the sights and sounds of Gold Saucer. The brunette relaxed considerably since the start of the ropeway ride up towards the amusement park.

When Bartz realized they were going to a high place, his fear of heights began to take over, with his body trembling and his breathing shaky. Cloud felt somewhat guilty, making the brunette endure through his fears, but he wanted to show that everything was okay. During the ride up, Cloud held Bartz’s hand to calm his nerves and offered words of comfort to his beloved. It seemed to work somewhat, as the other rested his head on his shoulder, fingers entwined, but Cloud could tell he was still afraid due to the trembles his body exhibited. That was until Bartz saw the extravagant sight that was the Gold Saucer, the amusement park he and his friends went to during his first journey.

This was the first time since that journey Cloud’s returned to Gold Saucer. He’s passed by areas in Corel for deliveries and would see the towering amusement park from afar, but not once did he step foot in it. However, Cloud wanted to show Bartz this place, since it was one of the iconic attractions in Gaia. The goddess Materia allowed Bartz to return to Cloud’s world with him after their final battle in the unknown realm, the place where they had met and eventually fell in love. Now that he resided with him for a few months Cloud wanted to show him all his world had to offer.

The cable car entered through the tunnel and slowed to a stop. The door opened and before he knew it, Bartz was in front of him and tugged on his arm excitedly. “C’ mon, let’s go!”

The blonde swordsman chuckled, allowing himself to be pulled by the younger man as they made their way to the entrance. He smirked as Bartz took in his surroundings with wide-eyed wonder, his jaw dropped. It really was a sight to behold, with the dazzling colors and intricate designs of characters as part of the structures, and the many lights that illuminated the area.

“Whoa! I’ve never been to a place like this before,” said Bartz, hooking his arm with the blonde. “Cloud, look!”

Cloud followed his gaze to where Bartz pointed to, barely able to register what it was before the other pulled his arm towards it, causing him to almost lose his balance. Quickly regaining himself, the pair approached the chocobo character roaming around by the ticket booth, greeting and taking pictures with visitors. “Do you want me to take your picture?” Cloud asked, pulling out his phone.

Bartz’s face brightened at the question, his grin growing wide. “Is that okay?” he asked with an excited and hopeful look.

“Of course,” Cloud said with a small smile, turning on the camera of his phone as Bartz went up to the character to take his picture. Cloud held his phone in front of him and focused the camera on Bartz and the chocobo character. “Ready?”

“Yep!” Bartz said, wrapping an arm around the character’s shoulders.

Cloud snapped a couple of photos on his phone and reviewed them. His expression softened at the sight, eyes studying Bartz in the picture. He loved seeing the wind warrior happy, just the sight of it made him feel warm inside. Cloud always believed one of Bartz’s best features was his smile. There was something about it that made him want to smile as well; it was just that contagious for him. Whenever he was around him, he felt content, like all of his worries were washed away, even for a little bit.

The blonde felt arms wrap around his torso and Bartz rested his chin on Cloud’s shoulder, looking over at the picture on his phone. “Hey! That’s a good photo!”

Cloud hummed with a grin. “I think so too. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Yeah, c’ mon Chocohead!” Bartz exclaimed, heading for the ticket booth. Cloud rolled his eyes at the nickname. It was one Bartz had given him when they were on a journey together, because his hair reminded him of Boko—the chocobo Bartz traveled with on his journey. He caught up with him at the ticket booth and began their adventures in Gold Saucer.

The pair started off in Wonder Square, where they went to the arcade. Cloud introduced Bartz to the many games like the snowboard or submarine ones, and his personal favorite, the G-Bike. Bartz—who came from a world not as technologically advanced—was still learning how Cloud’s world worked, but happily watched in fascination as they played different games.

Cloud wasn’t sure how much time they spent in the area, but he enjoyed himself with Bartz. The freelancer struggled with some of the games, but he still had fun regardless. This satisfied him, as he felt he hadn’t spent as much time with Bartz as he would’ve liked the past few weeks due to deliveries. Although they’ve spent some time together, they were usually with their friends and family or helping out with Tifa’s bar. The blonde wanted to spend some alone time with his companion and have a good time with him. Hence the swordsman felt this was the perfect time to spend this day with Bartz, who had been patient with him, and Cloud was grateful for that.

Once playing almost every game in Wonder Square and even winning a large chocobo plush for Bartz, Cloud led them to the Chocobo Square to watch the different races. Bartz was particularly ecstatic about the races, choosing his favorite chocobos from the bunch and cheered them on as they raced through different animated and vivid colored scenery. Cloud remembered when he was a jockey for a little bit and he had to admit, he enjoyed it. He reminisced how exciting it felt to race against many other jockeys and the cheers from the crowds, but now Cloud was content watching from the stands with his partner.

After the excitement from Chocobo Square, Cloud led Bartz to one final attraction before they’d check in at the Ghost Hotel for the night. Cloud purchased two tickets for the gondola and turned back to Bartz. “C’ mon, let’s get on,” he said, grabbing Bartz hand and leading them inside.

As the two men sat down across each other Bartz asked, “What is this?”

“We’re in the gondola. I wanted you to see this,” Cloud said, blue eyes locked with pale brown. As soon as he said this, the gears started up and the gondola began to move.

“Show me what?” Bartz asked, confused.

Cloud smiled softly. “You’ll see soon.”

Bartz noticed that they were getting higher from the ground and his expression changed from confusion to worry. “Wait, are we going up again?”

The blonde nodded and gave an apologetic look as he held Bartz’s hand. “Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” Cloud reassured, keeping his gaze locked on Bartz.

With a shaky breath, Bartz nodded and chuckled nervously, trying to keep himself calm before he started freaking out. “Boy, y-you sure have a thing for taking me to high places. I mean, two times in one day? That’s a new record! If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were doing it on purpose.”

Cloud chuckled and teased, “I suppose I can take you to the highest point of Gold Saucer after this,” he teased with a mischievous grin.

“Okay, now you’re pushing it, buddy!” Bartz exclaimed, raising a hand up. “I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere.”

Another chuckle escaped from Cloud’s lips. He stood up from his seat and moved to sit next to Bartz instead. The other huffed and crossed his arms, trying to look mad but failing miserably. Cloud shifted closer to him, snaking his arm around the brunette and rested his hand on the other’s hip. He gingerly pressed his lips to Bartz’s temple, feeling his partner relax in his hold. Cloud often was not an affectionate type—at least in public. But with private moments like these did he show this side to him, especially when he knew Bartz very much enjoyed it. “I’m kidding, but I do want you to have a good time.”

Bartz uncrossed his arms and shifted in his seat to face Cloud, a soft smile on his face. “I’m having a great time with you,” Bartz said, leaning forward and pressed his forehead to Cloud’s. “Thank you, I appreciate you.”

Cloud closed the distance and kissed Bartz, slow and tender, lips soft to the touch. His heart swelled with emotions, going off like the fireworks happening in the background. He drowned out the sounds as he ran his fingers through soft locks of chocolate brown hair and moved his hand down to cup his cheek. Cloud slowly pulled away and observed his partner, their breaths mingling together between them as he stared into wondrous brown eyes. The swordsman caressed the other’s cheek with his thumb, holding his gaze on him. All that mattered was this beautiful man with him, the one who was able to open his shielded heart and made his days brighter. He finally understood what it meant to be happy, to live a fulfilling life and share his experiences with someone who meant so much to him, both the good and bad.

Cloud shifted closer to Bartz and pointed out the window as they approached the roller coaster, the tracks lit with many lights illuminating the area. “Look at that,” he said, resting his chin on the brunette’s shoulder. Screams were heard from people as the cars traveled at high speeds, going up onto the enormous loop they were passing through. Bartz’s eyes widened with enamored wonder as he took in the breathtaking sights of Gold Saucer and seemed to forget about his fears.

Cloud felt Bartz press his back further into him, relaxing in his arms. He tightened his hold on his companion as they enjoyed the scenery, from the different attractions and rides to a view of the Ghost Hotel, a different view of the chocobo races, and to the climax of the ride, where they reached the highest point of Gold Saucer. The fireworks exploded with different colors, lighting up the skies with their brilliance.

Cloud felt Bartz tense in his arms, his hands squeezing the blonde’s like a lifeline, which caused Cloud a glance in his direction. He noticed that Bartz was looking down after realizing how high up they were from the Gold Saucer. The wind warrior took a sharp and shaky intake of breath. Cloud kissed Bartz’s temple and whispered, “It’s okay, Bartz. I’m here.” He gently squeezed his partner’s hands and kissed the crook of his neck before nuzzling into it as ways of comforting the younger man. He listened to Bartz’s breathing, as he took deep breaths to calm himself down until he relaxed once more.

Once relaxed, Cloud reached over and hooked his fingers under Bartz’s chin to bring his gaze to meet his. He leaned forward and captured Bartz’s lips in another kiss. Cloud didn’t want this moment to end between them, he wanted to freeze time and stay here with Bartz in his arms. He felt his heart skip beats in his chest with each flick of the tongue, each caress on his warm skin, each tug on blonde locks, their bodies pressed together and fitting perfectly. It felt like he was falling in love with him all over again.

The pair pulled away from their kiss in need of air. Their breaths mingled together as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes, foreheads pressed together. Bartz rested his head in the crook of Cloud’s neck and took in his scent. “I love you,” Bartz said softly, eyes beginning to droop.

“I love you too,” Cloud responded with a soft grin, kissing the top of Bartz’s head. They sat in silence, holding each other as the ride was nearing its end.

As the gondola came to a stop, Cloud glanced down to see Bartz had fallen asleep. He ran his fingers through brunette locks and pushed his bangs away from his face to have a better look at the wanderer. He looked so peaceful, without so much as a care in the world. The blonde reached over, grabbed the chocobo plush sitting next to Bartz, and placed it on his partner’s lap. He scooped the other up into his arms bridal style and exited the gondola, where they left behind unforgettable memories.

[lifesizehysteria]

Cancelled - An AdamsFoster Fic

“It’s our wedding anniversary” requested by @shaloved30

A/N: So much for a mini-fic. This turned into a bit of a beast and wanted to go in about four different directions before I was able to wrangle it all into one cohesive idea. Also, I’ve never written a text conversation before so I tried to format it in a way that was clear. Hopefully everyone can make sense of it. Enjoy!

Lena’s phone lit up with a text from Stef, the buzz distracting her from her paperwork. She swiped to open it.

Can’t make it tonight. Mandatory training. I already asked Cptn if I could make it up. She said no. I’m sorry.❤️

Lena’s heart sank. She sent back a reply and then added another for good measure.

       But it’s our wedding anniversary. 

       Our first wedding anniversary.

She watched the little gray dots blink on her screen while Stef wrote her reply.

I know. I’m sorry love. There’s nothing I can do.

Lena dropped back against her office chair as disappointment settled over her.

       It’s fine. I’ll just cancel our dinner reservation.

Maybe they can reschedule for later this month.

       I’ll ask.

Lena set her phone on the desk and sighed. There was no way they were getting another reservation any time soon. She had made their reservations at Addison’s almost four months ago and she’d been lucky to get a table on the date of their anniversary then. Her phone buzzed against the hard wood of her desk.

I know it’s a long shot but maybe we’ll get lucky.

       Maybe

I’m sorry Lena. I know you really wanted to go there.

Guilt crept in over Lena’s annoyance. Getting mad at Stef wasn’t fair, even if it was easy. 

       It’s not your fault. We’ll just go somewhere else this weekend.❤️

As long as I get to spend an evening looking at your gorgeous face I’ll be happy.

Lena smiled down at her wife’s reply. Stef could charm the pants off of her when she wanted to. Which she had, of course. Many times.

      😊 😍

       I’ll call around after work and find somewhere.

Thanks love.

I’ll see you when I get home tonight. Love you. 😘

       I love you too.

Lena set her phone aside and settled back into her work. Her lingering disappointment colored the rest of her day. Without their dinner plans to look forward to, time seemed to drag on. By the time she was able to head home, she had resigned herself to the evening ahead. At least she wouldn’t have to cook since they’d left money for pizza with the kids.

When she got home, the house was quiet. There were no backpacks or shoes by the front door, no tv or music playing, no bickering. The quiet was unsettling. A flutter of concern blossomed in her belly as she set down her keys and purse before heading to the kitchen. Instead of teenagers, she was met with a vase full of flowers on the kitchen table — bright pink daisies, orange and crimson lilies, enormous sunflowers intermixed with leafy greens, bunched together in a stunning display. She gasped at their beauty before crossing to pick up the card that stood open before them. The message was scrawled in Mariana’s neat handwriting.

Happy Anniversary, Moms! You only get one first anniversary so make the most of it.

We love you! M, C, J, J, B

P.S. There’s a note on the fridge of where we’ll all be tonight

A warmth swelled in Lena’s chest while she smiled down at the card, her worry already melted away. Her kids really were the best. She set down the card and turned around. Sure enough, on the fridge was a list of where all the kids were. There were even numbers listed, which Lena was happily surprised to see. She sat down on a stool, feeling appreciative but also still a bit disappointed. It was her anniversary. Her kids had made a beautiful gesture. But instead of celebrating, she was now going to be spending the evening alone. She drummed a little pattern on the wood table, her chin resting in her other hand. She really wasn’t sure what to do with herself. When was the last time she’d had the house entirely to herself? She couldn’t remember. The cash she’d left for pizza was on the table in front of her and she absent-mindedly thumbed through the corners of the bills. Was there a twenty missing? She sighed to herself, somewhere between amused and annoyed, sure that one of the kids had taken it. Just as she picked up the remaining cash to put it back in her wallet, she changed her mind. This was her anniversary and if she had to spend it by herself, she might as well spend it doing what she wanted— which included not cooking for once.

With that, it was decided. Lena ordered herself a pizza with spinach and artichokes since no one was around to whine about it. While she waited for it to arrive, she went upstairs to change into her favorite pajamas - one of Stef’s old t-shirts that was just baggy enough to be cozy and a pair of gray sweats so worn that they were as soft as butter. She took off her makeup, piled her hair on top of her head, picked a book from her ever-growing To-Read pile, and headed back downstairs just as the delivery driver pulled up. Lena settled on the couch in the living room with her book, her pizza, her laptop, and a glass of wine. As she sipped and nibbled, she alternated between her book and her computer, keeping herself busy with nothing of importance — a true rarity in her chaotic life. Her phone was, of course, nearby but it remained mercifully silent. The passing of the evening showed only in the growing number of pages turned in her book and the setting sun.

Not ten minutes after Lena had laid her head back on the couch, the click of the front door pulled her from a light doze. Stef’s voice floated in not long after. “Lena?”

“In here,” Lena called back as she stretched to put her book on the coffee table.

When Stef rounded the corner, she was in her uniform slacks and a black V-neck undershirt. Her work braid was undone and her gold hair fell in waves around her face. It was a sight Lena had seen a million times and yet there was still a flutter deep in her chest, just like the first time they’d met. The bouquet of roses in Stef’s hand just made the flutter even stronger.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” Stef said, offering the flowers with a quick kiss before she settled down beside her wife.

“Happy anniversary.” Grinning, Lena took the roses and buried her nose in them, humming in delight as she inhaled their sweet fragrance. “Thank you.” She looked back up at Stef whose face was bright with a lopsided grin. “They’re beautiful.”

“Not even half as beautiful as you.” Stef took Lena’s face in her hands and brought her in for another slower, deeper kiss. The space between them smoldered by the end and they lingered in the embrace for a moment; Stef’s thumb caressed Lena’s cheek while their foreheads came to rest together.

Stef tilted her head up, leaving barely an inch between them. “Sorry about tonight.”

Lena gave a tender smile. Her free hand squeezed Stef’s knee. “It’s okay.” And it was. She’d been disappointed earlier but now that Stef was home, she was reminded of her priorities. They would have a lifetime of anniversaries to celebrate. This, the two of them together, was what mattered. Lena pressed a gentle kiss to Stef’s lips to reassure her. She then took another sniff of her roses before setting them on the coffee table. “I made reservations for us this weekend.” Lena refilled her wine glass as she spoke. She took a drink before handing it to her wife, who thanked her while they nestled in beside each other. Their hands found one another, fingers entwining out of habit.

“Yeah? Where?” Stef took a long drink of wine then handed the glass back to Lena.

“La Cucina.” They continued to pass the wine glass back and forth in a comfortable rhythm as they continued their conversation.

“Do we have a standing reservation with them at this point?” Stef teased, dodging the swat aimed at her shoulder. La Cucina was their usual dinner date spot because it was close by, in budget but nice enough to feel romantic, and they could always get a reservation on short notice. Both women had been excited about getting to try somewhere new and swanky. And totally out of their price range.

“Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation less than 48 hours in advance?” Lena shot Stef a look, eyes narrow, mouth pursed ever so slightly. A smirk lifted the corner of Stef’s mouth as she was reminded of just how cute Lena was when her feathers were ruffled. “Besides,” Lena continued, “I had already made us reservations somewhere else.” She was teasing, though her words were just pointed enough to make it clear that Stef wasn’t allowed to complain. But any feeling of guilt Stef might have felt vanished before it could appear when her wife leaned over her lap to grab the wine glass out of Stef’s free hand. Her reach across positioned her long neck right in front of Stef’s mouth. The warm, sweet scent of her perfume washed over Stef, enticing her toward the exposed spot while her heart rate ticked a notch higher. Both were acutely aware of Lena’s breasts brushing against Stef’s arm with only a t-shirt between them. Stef wasn’t sure if Lena was purposely dragging out the movement or not, but seeing as both of her own hands were occupied, she took advantage of the position using the only body part available to her. She pressed a kiss to hollow at the base of her wife’s neck, making Lena’s breath hitch. Stef made a slow path up the length of her neck and Lena shivered beneath her warm breath. Just as Stef was settling into the soft underside of her chin, Lena pulled away, slipping back into her seat and taking the wine glass with her.

Stef’s mouth hung open for a split second before she could cover up her disappointment. On purpose, indeed. “Tease.”

Lena raised her eyebrows at the accusation from over the wine glass. “How was your training?” she asked after a drink that took far too long, her tone purposefully casual.

“Fine.” Stef leaned back into the couch, going along with whatever game Lena was playing. Though the steady pulse in her body was much harder to ignore than it had been a minute ago. “Typical bureaucratic crap.” She peeked over at Lena whose head rested back on top of the couch, exposing that gorgeous, long neck again. Swallowing, she dragged her eyes away in an attempt to ignore it.

“What about you, love?” Stef lifted their folded hands to kiss the back of her wife’s. “How was your evening?”

“It was nice, actually. Peaceful.” She wore a lazy smile and hummed her appreciation.

“Enjoyed your time alone, hmm?”

Lena’s eyes cracked open. “How did you know I was alone?”

Lena never missed anything. “Just a guess.” Stef shrugged but her eyes slipped down to her lap while she concealed a sheepish smile.  

Lena sat up, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Really?” she prodded, unconvinced.

Stef rolled her eyes, caught in her lie so easily. “When I found out I was working late, I texted the kids and told them to find somewhere else to be tonight.”

“Oh you did, did you?”

“Mhmm.”

“How presumptuous.” As she took another drink of wine, Lena feigned disdain with the highest of arched brows. Only when Stef winked did her charade dissolve into a grin so goofy only Stef could have coaxed it out of her. “If only it were always so easy to get them out of the house,” she said with a sigh, still grinning.

“Yeah, well, threatening them with bodily harm didn’t hurt, either,” Stef said with an offhanded chuckle.

Lena’s smile was replaced with a scowl. “Really, Stef?”

“What?”

“Was that necessary?” Her tone was scolding but she couldn’t quite keep the amusement from her eyes. She may not have been thrilled about the method but she wasn’t exactly upset about having the time alone.

“Absolutely. And effective.” Stef wriggled her eyebrows. “I had to make sure we had the house to ourselves.”

Lena’s resolve began to weaken but she wasn’t quite ready to let Stef off the hook so she straightened her spine and lifted her nose up in the air. “You sure were confident about getting laid tonight after canceling on me.”

Stef flashed a cocky smile. “We both know you can’t resist me.”

Lena’s jaw dropped, incredulous. That confidence Stef exuded had always been such a turn on and she couldn’t deny that she was defenseless against it. Though, she certainly didn’t have to admit it. When Stef turned to face her, there was a roguish flash in her eyes that made Lena’s heart beat faster. As her wife took the glass of wine, threw back the remaining dregs and set it aside with a clink, Lena knew she was in trouble.

Stef unlaced their fingers for the first time since she had come home. She took Lena’s hand in both of hers, bringing it to her lips. The back, the palm, the soft inside of her wrist; Stef brushed each spot with feather light kisses. As she watched, Lena’s body ached with the tenderness of each kiss. Stef moved her left hand to Lena’s shoulder and dragged it up to the back of her neck. Met with no resistance, she pulled her wife closer with the gentlest urging and Lena’s stomach fluttered as she leaned in, her lips slightly parted in anticipation.

“See?” The single word rushed against Lena’s chin and she couldn’t contain the little whimper of disappointment when Stef remained just out of reach. Stef smirked, proud as she let her gaze fluttered down from Lena’s dark, desperate eyes to her mouth where her teeth now pulled at her lower lip. She glided her thumb along those oh-so-kissable lips, gently tugging the lower one free so she could claim it when she was ready. “I’m irresistible.” The sultry rasp in her voice drove Lena past her breaking point.

“Shut up and kiss me, Foster,” Lena demanded, but she had no intention of waiting. She grabbed Stef’s shirt and pulled her in, crashing their mouths together while desire licked its way up her spine. Their kisses, sweet with wine and hot with desire, grew deeper and more urgent until they were both dizzy with want. Needing a break to catch her breath, Stef wandered down Lena’s neck to the soft bit of flesh peeking out from above her neckline, trying to slow them down but it wasn’t long before Lena dragged her back up, her fingers tangled in blonde hair.

“You know you still owe me dinner,” Lena breathed against Stef’s kiss-bruised lips, refusing to give up what little leverage she still had.

Stef’s voice was rough as she panted to answer. “I thought we already had reservations.”

One of Stef’s strong hands gripped the delicate skin beneath Lena’s shirt at the small of her back. Lena’s body tingled and she leaned in harder until their bodies were pressed hard against each other. “I mean at Addison’s.”

“It’s gonna be a while,” Stef warned.

“I can wait.” Lena’s head tipped back, exposing the full length of her neck, which Stef took full advantage of.

“Can’t I just make it up to you now?” Mischief danced in her eyes while she slipped her hands down to her wife’s hips, beneath the waistband of her pajama pants.

“I guess you can give it a shot.” Lena gave a blasé shrug, though the way her hand gripped Stef’s thigh belied her facade.

“Yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow and then in one swift motion, pulled Lena’s hips toward her, pressing her down along the length of the couch beneath her, eliciting a surprised and excited gasp. “Why don’t I give it a couple?” she growled before capturing her lips once more.

[amnexicon]

Ghosts

Part I. The Dove’s Death Hymn

Part II. An epitaph for the Wisteria

Part III. Black Sand Wonderland

- - -

    CHRONIC KIDNEY DISEASE—

    Causes: Diabetes, high blood pressure, glomerulonephritis, polycystic kidney disease, genetically transmitted.

    Diagnosis: Blood tests measuring glomerular filtration rate, urine tests measuring albumin, ultrasound, biopsy.

    Treatment: Pills managing blood pressure, active lifestyle, dietary changes, hemodialysis, peritoneal dialysis, kidney transplant.

    Symptoms: Swelling of the legs, feeling tired, vomiting, loss of appetite, confusion.

    Status: Incurable, at 323 million affected and 1.2 million dead.

    COMMON COLD, THE—

    Causes: Virus, transmission via airborne droplets, direct contact with infected objects or persons.

    Diagnosis: Self-diagnosis.

    Treatment: Fever medication, nasal decongestant, rest, maintaining hydration.

    Symptoms: Cough, sore throat, runny nose, fever.

    Status: Incurable, with 2-4 and 6-8 cases per year for adults and children respectively.

    FIBRODYSPLASIA OSSIFICANS PROGRESSIVA—

    Causes: Autosomal dominant allele on chromosome 2q23-24, genetically transmitted.

    Diagnosis: Elevated levels of alkaline phosphatase, bone-specific alkaline phosphatase, deformed big toes, missing joint, notable lump.

    Treatment: N/A

    Symptoms: Ossification of fibrous tissues either spontaneously or when damaged.

    Status: Incurable, at 0.5 million affected.

    GLIOBLASTOMA—

    Causes: N/A

    Diagnosis: CT scan, MRI scan, stereotactic biopsy, craniotomy with tumor resection and pathologic confirmation.

    Treatment: Anticonvulsant treatment, corticosteroids, surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy.

    Symptoms: Seizures, headaches, nausea, vomiting, memory loss, personality changes, localized neurological problems.

    Status: Three new cases per 100,00 people per year.

    INSOMNIA—

    Causes: Psychoactive drugs, use and/or withdrawal of sedatives and pain-relievers, heart disease, pain, hormone shifts, fear, stress, anxiety, emotional tension, gastrointestinal issues, mental disorders, disturbances to the circadian rhythm, genetically transmitted, elevated nighttime levels of circulating cortisol and adrenocorticotropic hormones.

    Diagnosis: Athens insomnia scale, sleep history and habits, overnight sleep study.

    Treatment: Sleep hygiene, stimulus control, keeping a journal, regular sleep and wake cycle, music, medication, melatonin, antidepressants.

    Symptoms: Trouble sleeping, sleepiness, low energy, irritability, depression.

    Status: Between 10% and 30% of adults may have insomnia at any given time, while in 6% it may last for longer than a month.

    TOXOPLASMOSIS—

    Causes: Toxoplasma gondii, eating poorly cooked foods, exposure to cat feces, genetically transmitted (if contracted during pregnancy), blood transfusion.

    Diagnosis: Blood tests, amniotic fluid tests.

    Treatment: Medication.

    Symptoms: N/A unless the patient has a weakened immune system or is immunosuppressed which can result in headaches, confusion, poor coordination, seizures, lung problems, encephalitis, necrotizing retinochoroiditis.

    Status: About 50% of the population affected.

- - -

Part I. The Dove’s Death Hymn

    Se Uita sat hunched in the corner of the dark room scribbling notes and throwing them to the ground when he was satisfied with his work, only to immediately replace the page with another. The mortician had fallen behind on his paperwork, and his assistant would sort through the mess on the floor in the morning. For now, his goal was to get down as much information onto paper as he could. Names, ranks, ages, and the district and time of birth and death if available. After hours of filling forms, he stood from his compact seat, stretched his legs and back, and headed out. The light shut off behind him, shrouding Se Uita in the dark of the night.

    Initium Vitae Columbae opened early to ensure that preparations could be made before the mourning. Se arrived before the sun had risen, the metal door handle still cold. He worked his way across stacks of papers, ensuring none of them would be kicked up by the force of his heavy morning trudge as he made his way over to the pastel blue wall painted to give a calming presence to the families making their way through his door. There were no mournings to conduct today. A buzzing came from within his skull, and he put his index finger over his temple.

    His gravelly voice, still tired with the early sun, sighed and answered.

    “Se Uita, yes?”

    The vision of a masked figure appeared in the left corner of his eye and spoke to him, the voice modulated so as to avoid identification.

    “We’ve arranged a truck to transport a body over. Don’t need to know who it is. Cremate them. You’ll be paid fully in advance.”

    “When should I expect it? When do you want the ashes? I’ve got a clear schedule today. If it stays that way, I can have the job done by nightfall.”

    “Should be here now. We don’t. Do what you want with them, so long as there isn’t a body by the end.”

    “That’s it? Who do I call when I’m do—” The other end cut out before the mortician had the time to finish his question.

    Se Uita returned his hand to his temple and shut the blank display. As he turned around to face the front window, men dressed in white, Cleaners, lowered a dark bag from the back of a large truck on to the sidewalk in front of Initium Vitae Columbae. They were gone before Se had even reached the door. A team of runners, they weren’t usually so secretive with their requests. He’d get a truck like that every few months, but they’d always booked ahead of time. He always got a name, and he always knew where the money was coming from.

    The sun had started to rise by the time he’d retrieved a bariatric stretcher from the back and managed to roll the bagged body on to it as cleanly as he could, given the unusual delivery method. With a solemn respect to the unknown person he was wheeling into his front door, he held his head low and kept quiet. While he didn’t know who, or what kind of person he was dealing with, after death they were all the same to him anyway. His procedure wasn’t going to change. They could still be watching him, and he was going to play by the rules.

    He transferred the body from the stretcher onto a steel bed near the back of the building, hidden away from any potential customers. He kept his head clear in case any buzzing were to alert him of anybody entering, he found a pair of scissors, and proceeded to open the bag. He was disarmed by the smell. Nothing. The body, a woman, had been cleaned before she was placed in the bag. A plastic case was strung around her neck with a zip tie. He cut it loose. The payment.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

    The steel bed was surrounded by seven canopic jars that held the remains of a Blimp-Whale corpse the mortician had found once while on a trip to the edge of the Ocean. Most of the jars held small sections of rib. On his trip, Se had also managed to find fragments of teeth, the sand having shifted enough during the night to reveal them before the party returned to the city. He’d cut the ribs into pieces as the sun rose and fit as many into his coat and bags as he could before everyone else had awoken.

    After cutting the bag away from the body, he turned to one of the jars and filled it with water. He let it sit, doing this with each jar. After they’d all been filled, he waited for ten minutes for the bones to absorb the water. In the meantime, he opened a hatch on the side of the metal slab and replaced the fire-paper that lay underneath the cover of the metal table.

    Once the clock had run its course, he removed the small sections of rib from each of the jars and placed them at each of her extremities. One at the head, two at the hands, and two more at the feet. The last two bones he held for himself, and again he waited as the cleaned bones transferred the Blimp-Water into their new host. Se could feel both of his hands weakening but there was no one else here for the woman in her death, and so he was left dealing with her final rites alone. He could hear the shuffling of papers in the other room as his assistant began the cleanup.

    Soon, a grey smoke began to rise from her body. It was funnelled through a vent and sent to the roof of the building where it could find its way back to the Ocean. Usually, the mortician would close any openings and ensure to catch as much of the Ghost as he could, but there was no one here to collect any of the essence on her behalf, and he had no need to pry into her memories, thoughts, or feelings.

    “May your Ghost reach the Ocean,” Se muttered, “and provide harmony.”

    When the smoke cleared, he returned the bones to their respective jars and began the final phase of operations. Hands still weak, Se shuffled through drawers until he found a lighter and bent down under the steel bed. He felt around the metal bottom of the table until his fingers felt a small hole where the fire-paper could be reached by the lighter’s flame, and ignited it. Instantly, the table began to glow red until it was completely engulfed in flame. He watched in silence as she burned.

    When there was nothing left but ash on the metal sheet, Se Uita beckoned for his assistant who’d been rummaging through the stacks of paper in the room outside. He came in with a small black bag, while the mortician lifted the table at an angle, sending all of the ash into the bag. Searching through his drawers once again, he pulled out a tag, labelled it A. #3323 and used it to tie the bag. He then turned to his assistant.

    “Is the schedule still clean?”

    “It is, sir.”

    “Then you’ll be joining me on a trip to the Breach this afternoon.”

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

    Se Uita and his assistant, who held the black bag, departed once the schedule was confirmed clean. Initium Vitae Columbae was near enough the Breach that they could walk to the nearest Versenwatch in minutes. A Crimson Guard Watchman sat behind a thick wall of glass and stood up as the pair approached him. He saluted them and sat back down.

    “Me and the boy need Breach permits.”

    The Watchman looked over his desk to identify the names, occupations, and ages of the travelers before him that the computer had gathered from it’s scan and entered into the terminal in front of him. He asked them the same questions for confirmation.

    “Names?”

    “Se Uita. The boy is my—”

    “He’ll tell me.” Interrupted the Watchman. “What is your name, and what are your relations to this man?” he questioned, focusing intensely on the assistant.

    “I’m his assistant, Kohsahr An.” The reply was much more confident than the Watchman had anticipated.

    “Uita, your occupation?”

    “Mortician.”

    “And what brings you both down to the Breach?”

    Se grabbed the bag from Kohsahr’s hands and brought it up to the glass. “The Transisting. No one to see her off but us.”

    “Alright,” the Crimson Guard pushed a button on the console in front of him, opening a small square in the glass. “Pass it through.”

    Se pushed the bag through the hole. The Guard placed it into a black box for scanning. Once confirmed clear, he pushed the bag back through to Se, who in turn handed it back to his assistant.

    “Can’t be too careful,” the Watchman told them. “Two Breach permits. That comes to one-hundred CC each.”

    Se reached into his pocket and placed 200 CCs through a second slit that had opened up before him. The Guard reached through, took the Capitol Currency, and replaced it with two Breach passes. A gate ahead of the two travelers opened, and they walked through.

    The inside of the Breach that was available to the public was filled with souvenir shops and flashing lights. Groups of tourists wandered around, hopping from one destination to another. On the far end, windows peered out the the vast Ocean, only briefly interrupted by the forest directly below. The Breach was the only thing that protected the citizens of Novissimus Flos from nomad raids and the storms outside. To be this close made Se anxious, but the Ocean fascinated him just as much as it did everyone else. They made their way to an elevator and hit the top floor.

    The roof of the Breach was barren and smooth from all of the sandstorms that had passed overhead. The few tourists who dared venture this high shielded their eyes from the harsh sun and debris that flew through the sky toward them. Most quickly returned to the elevator and back down into the primary tourist areas. Se and Kohsahr walked toward the railing, the only thing preventing either of them from falling off of the massive structure and into the sand-covered forest below.

    “Kohsahr,” the mortician used his name. “The Transisting, if you would.”

    The request startled him. He’d never been given this permission before. “Right, yes.”

    He reached into the bag and threw the ashes into the wind. Behind him, Se Uita had begun chanting.

    “May your Ghost reach the Ocean and provide harmony. May the harmony brought forth satisfy the Whale, Irisidiom. May Irisidiom, provided for and satisfied, return a harmony of her own.”

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

Part II. An epitaph for the Wisteria

    The apartment was built on an axis, allowing the building to follow the sun as it moved through sky. From the Flos mountains, it looked like a sunflower in constant motion against the still outline of a city. It generated power for those living within who’d come to call the building Follower, or Flower. Inside, mirrors directed light from one end of the building to the other. It was a constant bright that bombarded the halls. Only the drawing of shades would drive it out.

    Lillian sat, her arms folded on the table and huddled under a blanket, as she looked at Walker preparing breakfast. He’d pulled two red pills from two orange containers labelled separately for the both of them and held them in his hands. Suppression Pills. In a drawer just under them, he grabbed a black box, opened the top and placed both pills inside, checking quickly out the window first. He closed the lid and waited. The air around the 31st floor of the building was cold.

    Lillian Lewis eyed the box. “You know they make better Skips now, right, that don’t take as long?”

    “I’m waiting for a pink model before I upgrade.”

    She smiled, laughing at the answer that had caught her off guard. “Dumbass.”

    Walker turned back towards her, lifting his shoulders. “It’d look so much better with the decor.”

    “Then why don’t you make one yourself?” She said as she got up, moving toward him.

    “Oh, they’ve long surpassed my original design. Plus, I can’t paint f—”

    Both of their skulls vibrated, and the corner of their vision was met with a view from the outside of their door.

    “Should only be a few more seconds the pills are done. I’ll let them in,” he said as he pushed his way past her and out of the cramped kitchen.

    The woman’s face was beaming as the door opened. “Walker Lewis! What took you so long? You think they’d teach you about punctuality in all that Guard training. How’ve you been?”

    “We’re just about ready to execute th—”

    A ringing from the kitchen. Lillian pulled the top off of the black box and put the now blue pills into their cups.

    “—the plan. We were just waiting on you both to get here.”

    Lillian walked in and welcomed Anoice and Scott Dourque, passing a purple cup to Walker. “All out of pink, sorry.”

    “Oh, how will I ever get by.” He said dramatically before taking a big sip and pulling the pill in.

    Anoice stared. “You still bother with that old Skip?”

    “There’s no pink model, so obviously we can’t upgrade yet.” Chimed Lillian.

    She led the group through a closet into a hidden room away from any of the large windows that covered the full lengths of the wall to the outside. She pulled a key from her long coat and opened a door leading to a black room filled to the brim with maps and pieces of equipment. A Crimson Guard uniform sat in the back corner, still shining from the recent polish Walker had given it. The four sat on opposing couches, cleaning the equipment and making small talk.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

    The four converged individually upon the Central Novissimus Flos Suppression Office. It was broad daylight. A queue formed long within the building as people went in to confirm that they had been taking the pills and to ensure that their daily Suppression was working as intended. The outside of the building was lined with the Crimson Guard. Arms in hand, they stood on watch, unmoving, as people entered and exited the building. Only the guard at the entrance would move, inspecting everybody that entered.

    Lillian, ID in her shirt pocket, pulled it out as she approached the guard. After a brief scan and a few questions, he waved her through. The inside of the building was sterile. The white walls had stripes of red pointing in various directions to lead the unfamiliar around. She made her way to the back of the line and waited for the commotion. Very few were unfamiliar with the layout. Most of the Offices were built as images of the first.

    Walker had positioned himself, adorned in his Crimson Guard set, at the entrance of the Office and allowed Lillian in after putting up an act of inspection. He refused entrance to enough people so as not to draw suspicion to himself, wary of being watched by the other guards. The C-NF-SO was a squat, rectangular piece of concrete with massive windows and pillars looming out of the front. It was built on a tough foundation, and the outside was nearly indestructible.

    Anoice and Scott were geared in a black suit of body armour meant for absorbing shock. It would be suitable enough for protection as long as the situation didn’t escalate any more than they expected. They stood around the block from the C-NF-SO and unpacked their large mud-green bags, pulling out arms large enough to get the attention of the Crimson Guard in order to draw them away from the building. Scott looked her in the eye.

    “You ready?”

    She replied as she placed the helmet over her head, her voice coming in through each of the four radios in a static haze.

    “A3 and A4 in position, A1?”

    Lillian looked to the ground, trying to avoid eye contact with the people in the building. “A1 ready, A2?”

    Walker looked in the direction that the two were hiding.

    “A2 set. Go.”

    Scott and Anoice ran around the corner of the building and fired blindly at the guards, ensuring to miss Walker who instantly ran in their direction and called the other Guards over to his position, ordering capture rather than extreme use of force. The Crimson Guard had been wanting to question the Anti-Suppression Cell since they’d first caught wind of their activities. The group used this to their advantage. Civilians within the Office fell to the floor.

    Lillian took the opportunity to run behind the counter, grab one of the receptionists, and force him to a door at the back of the building. She scanned his ID to the door, opening it. He dropped as she stepped through the door leading to the database and servers that contained all of the information on the people who lived in the central sector. She pulled open her jacket, taking out small, flat objects and placed them around the room. She attempted to run back out of the building, only for one of the civilians to grab hold of her ankle and pull her down with them.

    Outside, Walker’s no kill order had been voided when they saw the explosion that Lillian had triggered when she fell. Anoice and Scott were shot on the spot, and the Guards returned to the Office to look for survivors and whoever had set off the explosion. The sounds of shouting surrounded the guards, but the man who’d grabbed Lillian stood up. He shouted, luring them towards her.

    Walker was confronted with a helicopter that drew nearer to the ground ahead of him as he looked for signs of life in Anoice and Scott. He caught a glimpse of the Captain of the Crimson Guard, Eris Vermillion, as she and her entourage jumped out of the helicopter which then returned to the building to airlift the survivors to the nearest hospital.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

    One of the Crimson Guard broke from the squad and moved toward the survivor who had shouted to them, holding his hostage who squirmed in a fruitless attempt at escape. He picked her up over his shoulder and directed the survivor to the helicopter along with the rest of the people in the building, and called in to Captain Vermillion.

    “Sir, I’ve captured one of the Anti-Suppression Cell’s members. What should I do with her?”

    “We’ve got complications. Get rid of her, make it an accident.”

    The Guard threw her off of his shoulder and she hit the ground, cracking emanating from various places throughout her body. He unholstered his pistol, quickly fired between the eyes, and called the Cleaners in to his position as he continued looking for survivors. When the group, dressed head to toe in white and looking out of a blank mask arrived at the scene, they already had Anoice and Scott laid out between them on a stretcher. One of the group picked Lillian up and placed her on the pile. The Cleaners then returned to their van.

    Vermillion held the radio to Walker’s ear so he could hear his wife’s final screams.

    “Walker Lewis,” she stated coldly.

    She threw down a small cube, and a large gray box formed around the two of them until they were both completely enveloped within, alone in the darkness, until a small light descended from the ceiling.

    The Captain found her way behind Walker, tying his gloved hands to the chair that had appeared under him, until she sat comfortably behind a table opposite him. “You will tell me what you know.”

    “Goddamn nothing,” he said, “Just arrived at the wrong moment, is all.”

    She slammed her fist into his shoulder, dislocating it.

    “One of my former Guards just happened to suit up as a Suppression Office was attacked. You think I’m that stupid?”

    “Should I have left the suit behind when I disappeared?” He said, laughing at her anger.

    “Now’s not the time, Lewis. The casualties are over two-hundred at the last count. More are still coming in. What have you got against the Office?”

    He spit in her direction. “A system of pills so regulated. Our immune systems are shot. We’ve been trying to wean off the pills for years, and we can still only dilute them so much without serious consequences. Doesn’t help when we’re tracked to ensure we take them.”

    “We weren’t around before the Suppression System, Walker. You know the stories. Death for even the smallest things. We’re eliminating that threat. Without people like you, sickness would be gone completely. It would have nowhere left to go.”

    “So until then we just risk complete extinction?”

    “We’ve got all of these systems in place to fight that from happening, you know that. You were that. Soon, we won’t need to worry about anything. Killing innocents isn’t going to help.”

    The Portable Cell-Block walls retracted, and Captain Ze Vermillion ordered one of the Guard to restrain Lewis, who caught a view of the destruction that surrounded them. The C-NF-SO had become a pile of rubble. Unidentifiable bodies lay strewn about the wreckage.

    “You’re not going to face trial, Lewis. We can’t have the public knowing it was a  Crimson Guard who caused this.”

    She lifted her pistol.

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

Part III. Black Sand Wonderland

Twelve Hours Prior to the C-NF-SO Bombing

    “C076, confirm presence.”

    “C076, confirm.”

    “C077, confirm presence.”

    “C077, confirm.”

    The figures dressed entirely in white stood in line and acknowledged their presence for the days work. The floor resembled fallen ash, but their steps made no marks. Ahead of the lined figures was one other, this one dressed in a similar uniform but marked by the distinct red features underlying various sections of the gettup. He stood, unmoving, and barked directives at the group.

    “C078, confirm presence.”

    “C078, confirm.”

    “C081, confirm presence.”

    “C081, confirm.”

    He looked over the pad in his left hand, a section of names crossed out.

    “Unfortunate accident. C082, confirm presence.”

    “C082, confirm.”

    “C083, confirm presence.”

    “C083, confirm.”

    The leader placed the pad on the podium beside him, which retracted into the ground.

    “All confirmations acquired. Stand for orders.”

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

Thirteen Minutes After the C-NF-SO Bombing

    The figures loaded the last body into the back of the white van and all seven stepped in to the vehicle after them. The leader, sitting at the wheel, received a message just as he began to pull the van away from the site.

    “Captain Vermillion,” the static voice reported. “This drop is to be discreet. Three separate locations, no official statements.”

    “Confirmed.”

    He began driving and relayed the information to C082 in the seat next to him, who called three separate morticians.

    “Se Uita, yes?” responded the voice of the first.

    The old, bearded man was tired. It was still early.

    “We’ve arranged a truck to transport a body over. Don’t need to know who it is. Cremate them. You’ll be paid fully in advance.”

    One of the hooded figures in the back loaded three tags with the appropriate amount of Capitol Currency and placed them around the three necks.

    “When should I expect it? When do you want the ashes? I’ve got a clear schedule today. If it stays that way, I can have the job done by nightfall.”

    “Should be here now. We don’t. Do what you want with them, so long as there isn’t a body by the end.”

    “That’s it? Who do I call when I’m do—”

    He’d already moved on to a call with the next mortician before he had the time to hear Uita’s response.