#they would perfectly sidestep it before it even became a problem

[bunnieswithknives]

I feel bad for neglecting Hazel so much, I do have many thoughts about her.. and also a mermaid au that im probably not going to do anything with

[three-drink-amy]

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

masterlist - AO3

My entire schedule for this second arc and when it would start came down to posting this around Christmas. I hope you enjoy this and have a lovely Christmas! 

Chapter Twelve: I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas

The day that John had expected me at our shared workspace, I marched in with a plan in mind. I hadn’t talked it out with Jamie because I was fairly sure he’d try to talk me out of it. He was a bit afraid that if I changed my work life for him that I’d regret it. Well, he hadn’t said as much, but I could tell. 

Both of us had been a bit anxious about the changes awaiting us. The first night that Jamie went to the theater without me, he’d paused at the door, looking back at me. For all the bravado he’d had and promises that we’d be fine, he’d seemed a bit unsure. Pulling me in, he’d given me a long kiss and promised me that he’d be back after his show. I’d smiled and told him that I’d be waiting. That night had set the scene for the next week of shows before I had to start work again. John had given me til the next Monday and I planned to make use of every minute I had before I was expected to work again. When Jamie left for the theater the Saturday before I was to return to work, my plan struck me. 

My bag was draped over my arm, a coffee in hand as I sat down at my desk. John, of course, had beaten me into the small loft that we shared as our workspace. Until we were attached to a show and assigned to a theater, this was where we did the nitty gritty parts. We’d made it our own as best we could. The day we’d finally upgraded ourselves to a workspace and not just working from one of our homes had been an exciting day. 

It felt different today as I walked in there. John was surely going to try to convince me against my plan, but I was sure of what I wanted to do. Ultimately, it was my life. I should get to decide what I want to do with it. Having a ten year career based on never taking a break made it hard to finally take one, but I was ready. And Jamie was the reason why. 

John’s head turned as he heard me enter the room. “Claire! You’re here!” 

“Did you think I wouldn’t show up?” 

“I wondered,” he replied with a shrug. 

“Well, I’m here.” My bag sat on my desk, but I stood and watched John as I took a drink of my coffee. I needed to read his mood before I sprung my plan on him. 

He glanced over as I still watched him. “Have I something on my face?” I shook my head. “Then what are you doing?” 

“We need to talk,” I informed him as I walked closer to his desk. One of his brows raised suspiciously. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.” 

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting odd for the last several months.” He ignored my glare. “Fine, what’s up?” 

“So, I’m here –” 

“Clearly.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I’m here because you demanded I come. And I have come up with a plan that I think will suit us both a bit better.” His brow furrowed as he stared back at me. “I’m not coming back full time. I meant what I said about wanting a break. In ten years, I’ve really never taken one.” I took a deep breath, settling down in a chair by his desk. “So, I will be here Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Then I’m working some, but not all the damn time. If I don’t find a project that absolutely captivates me, I’m not going to commit to something. I think we both know that there have been times in the past we’ve both committed to shows because we felt we had to.” 

John nodded. “Is this about Fraser?” 

I sighed deeply. “No, John, it’s about me.” He encouraged me to continue. “Perhaps it was Jamie who  made me realize it, but I haven’t been in a real romantic relationship since I was in college. And even then, it was half-assed because I was more focused on my studies. I’ve always, always put my career ahead of my personal life.” 

“Including with him,” John added. 

Nodding, I sidestepped the lie I was perpetuating. “When Uncle Lamb got sick, he didn’t have anyone there but me. He’d spent his life on his career and so when his career ended because of his illness, he had nothing to fall back on. When I’m on my deathbed, I want to have had a life outside of the theater. And I’m not going to do that if I’m always running at this speed. So, this is my solution.” 

John watched me for a long moment of silence. “I suppose I understand where you’re coming from. But what are you going to do if we find a show we’re passionate about? What about your break, then?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t really foresee it being a problem. There were more crappy plays wanting to be produced and directed that came to us than actual quality ones. I held out my hand for John to shake. He shook his head with a grin and grabbed my hand. 

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to start working with another director.” 

“John, you know I’d never hold you back from that. Especially not right now.” 

He smiled. “You know there’s no one else I’d rather work with.” 

* * *

The new schedule and system had been working. I only worked three days a week which left me plenty of time to spend with Jamie. He initially felt guilty for my idea of shortening my week, but after some convincing, he came around to my way of thinking. A few mindblowing sexual acts made it pretty easy to sway his mind. 

And so that became our pattern. Only a few days a week we saw each other in passing, or at night after Jamie’s show. But the rest of the week, we worked at deepening our relationship. Both of us were already invested and really just wanted to spend time together. Jamie was always happy to regale me with stories from growing up in Scotland. I’d share stories of growing up on Broadway that he always marveled at. Our lives quickly became intertwined. It had been weeks since Jamie had been to his own apartment. After giving him a key, he took it as permission to never spend a night elsewhere. Not that I ever minded. My favorite way to wake up was in his arms. 

Two months passed in the blink of an eye. Being together was now our new normal. 

I was somewhere between sleeping and waking one night when I heard the door open and close. Jamie must have purposefully crept over to the couch because I didn’t hear him. The first thing that processed after the sound of the door was his lips against my forehead. Smiling, my eyes slowly opened to find him sitting on the couch next to my legs. 

“Hi.” 

“Good evening,” he teased. 

I sat up, pulling the blanket with me. “How was the show?” Before he could answer, I leaned in to kiss him quickly. 

“That depends. Were ye asking as my girlfriend or as my director?” 

I squinted at him suspiciously. “Well it was as your girlfriend –” 

“Then it went great!” 

Grabbing him by the shirt, I brought him in closer. “Now it’s as your director. What happened?” 

He shook his head, feigning ignorance. “Nothing. It went perfectly. Same as always.” 

“Jamie Fraser,” I scolded. 

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “There was a jagged part of the table and Laoghaire stood too close to it. When she turned away it ripped her skirt.” I gaped at him. “But it was fine because any skin that showed was upstage and no one could have seen anything.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“And Louise walks off with her in that scene and she changed sides so that she could cover it up with her body,” Jamie recapped. “So, it all ended up fine. It was just a moment of shock.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“There could be far worse things, no?” 

I nodded. “Of course there could.” I shook my head with a sigh. “I’m going to say something to you, my boyfriend, and not to you, the lead of the show.” 

He got an eager grin on his face. “Okay.” 

“Of course it was bloody Laoghaire that messed it up.” 

Jamie laid against the back of the couch as he laughed. “I appreciate your candor. What other dark secrets about the cast have ye been keeping from me all these months?” 

I rolled my eyes. “I would have thought you already knew I didn’t like Laoghaire.” 

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I had an inkling.” 

“What, from that night at the bar?” 

Jamie scooted closer to me, pulling my legs across his lap. “Perhaps even a bit before then.” 

I tried to think back to a time that I’d been more obvious about my dislike of Laoghaire. “When?” 

He grinned as he played with one of my hands. “Do ye recall that night that we stayed late at the theater, just the two of us?” I covered my face with the hand he wasn’t holding. “When you yelled at her to leave me alone, I had to wonder.” 

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. I didn’t realize I was so bloody obvious.” 

Jamie laughed, taking my other hand as well. “Ye werena, I promise. It just made me wonder if you were annoyed by her in general or just because of me.” 

I was silent for a moment. “It was you,” I admitted. “God, I didn’t want it to be because of you, but it just was.” 

He leaned toward me and I met him the rest of the way. “I’m fine wi’ yer reasoning.” His lips pressed to mine and I cupped his face in my hands. 

When we broke apart, he sighed like he had something on his mind. All it took was one raised eyebrow for him to talk. “I had something I wanted to run by ye.” 

“Well, go ahead.” 

“Usually at Christmas, I go home to Scotland. But since I only have the 24th and 25th off, I wanted to invite my family to come to New York this year.” 

I nodded. “Okay. That’s not surprising. But you do realize that Christmas is a month away. I mean, tomorrow is Thanksgiving.” 

“Aye, I realize. But I wanted to ask you before I asked them because...well, I’d like ye to celebrate Christmas wi’ my family,” Jamie told me. He almost seemed nervous. 

I laid my hand against his cheek as a smile spread across my face. “You want me to spend Christmas with your family?” He nodded insistently. I leaned in and kissed him again. “Jamie, I would love that.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes!” I looked around the room. “In fact, you should have them come here. You know it’s a lot better than yours.” I grimaced until he agreed. “There’s more space at least.” 

“Are you sure?” His eyes held mine. 

I nodded happily to him. “I’m positive. It sounds lovely. Besides, Lamb has never been much of a Christmas person so I’ve spent many Christmases basically by myself or invited to someone’s open house. It will be a really nice change to spend it with your family.” 

Jamie surged forward and kissed me into the arm of the couch. “I love you,” he sighed. 

I laughed. “I love you too.” 

* * *

Another month passed just as quickly and I was preoccupied by Christmas plans for a family I really only knew through stories. 

I sat at my desk, not doing any work, but instead, focusing on Christmas decorations. I loved Christmas, but spending it alone made it seem sad to decorate. It was for no one but me. So this year, I was trying to do more. 

I held up a paper link chain for John. “How does this look?” 

John swiveled in his chair, glancing over at me. His brow furrowed. “Is that a chain made from scraps of wrapping paper?” I nodded with a smile. “Have you given up on attempting to work?” 

I shrugged. “Answer the question first.” 

He eyed the chain critically. “It’s cute.” 

“Thanks. I haven’t given up totally on work. I’m just trying to do more for Christmas this year and I wanted to run with the idea I had.” 

“Don’t you usually spend Christmas alone?” John asked. 

With a sigh, I tried to come up with a plausible explanation. “Yes, I do.” 

“So then, why do all this?” 

I tilted my head thoughtfully. “I guess it just fits in with the whole ‘doing more for myself’ kick I’ve been on.” 

“Well good for you, I suppose.” John turned to go back to work while I eyed my creation. “That would look charming over the window seat just past your office.” 

I smiled as I looked over at him. “Thanks for the suggestion. I think you’re right.” 

Later that morning, I called it a day, heading home to decorate some before Jamie brought his family back from the airport. He was on his way out as I ran in, my hands full of bags. Glancing down, he frowned. “What’s this?” 

I shrugged, deciding to surprise him too. “Oh, just some stuff I picked up on the way back from work.” I set them down before turning to him. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the airport?” I asked as my arms wrapped around his neck. 

His hands found my waist and squeezed. “Probably,” he admitted before kissing me softly. “Are ye still sure about this?” 

I laughed. “No, I decided just now to tell you that I changed my mind. I thought an hour and a half out would be a good time to do so.” 

He shook his head. “That would be rather terrible timing.”  

I leaned up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. “Go get your family. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

Jamie left and I quickly ran around stringing up lights and making my home as festive as possible. He’d tried reassuring me repeatedly that I didn’t have to decorate or do anything special. But the fact was, I was excited about spending Christmas with the Frasers. I was looking forward to a Christmas I wasn’t spending alone. And that was all because of Jamie. 

Twenty minutes before I expected them back, I threw some cookies in the oven, trying to make the apartment smell nice. Perhaps I was doing a bit much — throwing around decorations and baking — but I wanted to make a good impression on Jamie’s family. I’d met them before, but not as his girlfriend. Not as the woman who was keeping her relationship with their son and brother a secret. It was to his benefit, but I worried that they’d hold it against me. 

I’d never really met someone’s family before. The last time I’d dated someone seriously enough to warrant meeting the person’s family had been college. He never asked and neither did I. Lamb was a natural intimidator. There was a reason Jamie had yet to meet him as well. 

No matter how many times Jamie reassured me, it was a big deal to me. I’d liked them when I’d briefly met them on Opening Night. I only hoped they’d return that feeling once they really got to know me. 

I texted Jamie, hoping he’d tell me how far away they were. Walking from my phone, I went to my room to change clothes quickly. A green jumper seemed festive enough without being too on the nose. I paired it with a pair of black and white checked pants. Maybe a bit overdressed for my own apartment, but I was nervous. I’d rather be overdressed than underdressed. Suddenly, I wished Jamie had sent a car for them. He’d be able to wrangle in my nerves better than I could on my own. I wondered belatedly if Jamie insisted on picking them up so he could prepare them for meeting me. What if there was something about me he had to prepare them for? 

I was getting away from myself. The oven beeped, reminding me about the cookies. I shook my head, trying to get away from my previous train of thought. I loved Jamie and Jamie loved me. Hopefully, that would be enough for his family. 

A sound from the hallway grabbed my attention. I could hear Jamie’s laugh carrying down the corridor. The sound alone warmed me. I finished putting the cookies on a plate and straightened my sweater a bit. I heard the sound of the key in the door as I fluffed my hair slightly. 

Jamie had a happy look on his face as he walked in. His expression quickly turned to surprise as he took in the decorations I’d hung in his absence. He’d stopped in his tracks, making his family linger behind him. His eyes glanced to me before looking back around again. “I was here an hour ago,” he commented as he walked toward me. “Ye didna have to do this, Sassenach.” 

I shrugged. “It was fun.” 

He shook his head at me before his arm came around my shoulder. Gesturing to his family, he said, “Welcome! As you all might remember, this is Claire.” 

I waved timidly to them, wishing I had some of my professional confidence to get me through this moment. 

Really, I shouldn’t have been worried. Same as when she met me, Ellen Fraser ran over to me and wrapped me in a big hug. “Claire, it’s so lovely to see ye again!” 

“And you,” I agreed, returning the hug. “Welcome!”

After Ellen, the rest of the Frasers followed suit and hugged me. It was the reaction I should have expected. They were all so warm and friendly, just like Jamie. We stood in a small circle in my kitchen, Jamie’s arm around my shoulders. 

“I’m so glad you could all make it for Christmas,” I said, unsure of what else to say. 

“Well Jamie usually comes home, but I suppose he has a good reason not to,” Jenny remarked. “Besides, Jamie’s never brought a lass home for Christmas, so we had to jump at the opportunity.” 

I started to chuckle, feeling Jamie tense next to me. Squeezing his waist, I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Janet,” he said. 

She shrugged, a grin on her face. “Facts are facts, James,” she replied, pointedly saying his full name as he’d said hers. 

“Thank ye for having us to yer home, Claire,” Brian said, gesturing to my home. “Tis a nice place ye have here.” 

I started to feel a bit shy again. Jamie must have been able to sense it, holding me slightly closer. “Thank you,” I replied in a small voice. “I, uh, I like it here.” I shot an uncertain look at Jamie and he grinned down at me before kissing my temple. 

We congregated towards the other room, sitting down and letting the pressure of the moment dissipate. Ian started talking about the flight to New York and cracked a joke about a loud child onboard. Jamie joined in, sharing a story about a rude theatergoer and the conversation shifted as Ellen pressed Jamie to tell stories from the show. I sat back, listening to stories he’d told me each night as he came home. But there was a comfortability there as he told them to me and his family together. 

After a few hours, it was time for Jamie to get ready to go to the theater. It was his last show before his short break for Christmas. Ellen stood up and went to grab her jacket. “Well if Jamie has to go, I suppose we should be off to our hotel.” 

“You don’t have to!” I offered. They all looked at me. “Just because Jamie’s leaving doesn’t mean you have to retire for the evening. You’re welcome to stay. If you’d like.” 

“Claire, ye dinna have to do that just to impress us or something,” Ian assured me. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “I really meant it. You’re welcome to stay.” 

They shared looks before Jenny and Ian plopped back down on the couch. “Okay then.” 

Brian sat back down too but Ellen looked unsure. “I dinna want to offend ye, Claire. I rather thought that when Jamie left, we would too.” I nodded in understanding. “And so I planned a surprise for Brian and me for this evening.” Brian’s eyebrows rose as he looked at his wife. 

“And what is this surprise?” Jenny asked. 

“Well it’s still a surprise,” Ellen said pointedly. 

“And ye were just going to leave Ian and me to our own devices?” Jenny pressed. 

Ellen shrugged. “Ye’re both adults. I figured ye could find something that sounded fun to ye. I didna think we had to babysit ye both.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh. Jenny clucked her tongue loudly. “Well, I see. I suppose we’ll just stay here and hang out wi’ Claire, then.” She glanced over at me. “If that’s still alright wi’ ye, of course.” 

I nodded to her with a smile. “Fine by me.” 

Jamie walked back into the room, throwing on his coat. “Ye ken the hotel I made ye a reservation at, right?” he asked. 

“We do,” Jenny informed him. “But Claire invited us to stay.” 

Jamie looked over at me, a confused expression crossing his face. He walked back toward my office, nodding his head for me to follow. I walked after him. When I entered the office, he brought me into his embrace. “I ken ye wanted to make a good impression wi’ my family, but you don’t have to entertain them this evening.” 

I looked up at him. “Well I think it’s really just going to be Jenny and Ian. Apparently your mother made plans for her and your father. And I’m happy to spend time with them, Jamie. I want to get to know your family and this is my opportunity.” 

He raised one brow at me. “Are ye sure?” 

I leaned up and kissed him softly. “I’m sure. Besides, it’ll be nice be nice to spend time with someone who actually knows about our relationship.” 

Jamie laughed, kissing my forehead. “I can understand that. Just ken that if they start to annoy ye, ye’re more than welcome to send them back to their hotel.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I doubt they’ll annoy me. But if they do, I know plenty of tricks to put up with annoying people. I did work with Laoghaire for several months.” 

He chuckled. “Alright. Tis yer decision. Have a good time. Dinna let them lie about me.” 

It was my turn to laugh. “Oh, my biggest motivation to spend time with them is to hear all the best stories about you. I’m sure your sister and best friend have the best ones.” 

Jamie shook his head, narrowing his eyes at me. “You canna believe everything they tell ye.” 

“Sure, Darling.” I kissed him before walking from the office. 

Jamie said goodbye to his family and shot me a look before he left the apartment. Ellen and Brian lingered for a bit, not needing to leave just yet. We sat around my living room as we had been earlier. It was surprising to me how comfortable I still felt with them, even without Jamie there. 

Ian stood up and wandered over to my bookcase. “So, this is yer Tony, huh?” he asked, touching one finger to the award. 

“Yep.” I watched as he stared at it. “Jamie will have one too.” 

“Ye think so?” Ellen asked. 

I looked over at her with a smile. “Oh yes. Even if it’s not for this show, he will. He’s a brilliant actor. I mean, you know. You’ve seen him.” 

She smiled fondly. “We used to go to his performances in school. Or in the community theater shows that he was cast in. And we always thought he was wonderful. We could see how much joy it brought him.” I could see the memories playing across her face. “When he told us he wanted to move to New York, none of us were exactly surprised. He’d tried to find success in Edinburgh, but the opportunities just weren’t there. We hated to see him go, but it makes it all worth it now.” 

I tilted my head as I watched her. It was a story I’d heard before — actors moving to New York to find success. All too many times it didn’t end up that way. Families were unsupportive and roles didn’t happen. It made my heart so happy that it wasn’t the case for Jamie. He’d found the part, and even if he hadn’t, his family was there for him. 

“Of course, we ken he flubbed the truth a bit,” Brian added. “When he actually called us with news of a real show he was in, it was obvious that he’d stretched things a bit.” 

I chuckled to myself. “He told me that. It was part of why I wouldn’t let him pass on the part. I mean, obviously, he was perfect for it. But I knew he deserved his shot. His big break.” 

“I havena read any reviews, I’ll admit. Jamie said it got good reviews,” Jenny pressed. “I wanted to read something but I didn’t want to come across someone saying Jamie was shite. I knew I’d just get angry.” 

Shaking my head, I laughed. “I read a ton of them. More than I should have. But I never came across one who said that. Thankfully. Having a terrible lead rather tanks a show.” 

There was a silence that hung in the room. “It’s nice to hear it from a professional,” Ian said, interrupting the quiet. “We always thought he was good, but to hear it from someone wi’ experience in this line of work is nice.” 

“There’s a strong chance I’m a bit biased,” I admitted. “But I wasn’t the only one who wanted him for this role. It was all of us.” 

“Well, I am glad you did,” Ellen said. “I’ll say this now while Jamie’s no’ around. I’ve never seen him so happy. And tis no’ just the show.” I smiled, my hand resting over my heart. 

“Thank you,” I replied, almost a bit choked up. 

“He calls us a lot, usually when he’s heading to the theater,” Jenny told me. I knew he did that. “And you can tell, even over the phone, that he’s just happy.” 

“I appreciate that.” I took a breath. “I know I am. And realistically, I know he is. But that observation from the people who know him best...well, it’s nice to hear.” 

“Ye’re good for him,” Ian said as he walked back over and sat on the couch. I nodded to him with a smile of thanks. 

“We better get going,” Ellen announced, standing up to get her coat. “But Claire, thank ye for having us. And I believe we’ll be back here tomorrow, as well?” 

“I think that’s the plan.” I stood up, accepting another hug from both of Jamie’s parents. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

They bid goodbye to Jenny and Ian, setting up a time for the morning before departing. Ian sat down with his hands behind his head. “Okay, now that the old people are gone, what are we going to get up to?” 

Jenny shook her head at him, but I laughed. “Claire, what do ye think we should do?” Jenny asked. 

“Well you’re the ones who don’t live here. What do you want to do?” 

“We went to most of the tourist spots when we came back in September. So as a New Yorker, what would give us a good New York experience?” Jenny continued. 

I bit my lip, trying to think of the best ideas. “We can always start with dinner and see what we feel like doing after that.” 

Ian threw his hands up. “Sounds good to me.” He jumped up, holding a hand out to pull Jenny off the couch. “You pick the restaurant.” I groaned. I hated having to pick places to eat for everyone. It made it even worse that I barely knew them. 

We ended up at a restaurant in Little Italy that I was fond of. They seemed alright with Italian. As we chatted over dinner, I could see how Ian and Jamie had been best friends for so long. They had remarkably similar senses of humor. Jenny and Ian regaled me with plenty of entertaining stories about growing up with Jamie. I loved hearing each story. The one that amused me the most was Jamie dressing up and putting on an elaborate one man show for the children of the small village they lived in. It seemed to certainly be in line with the man I knew now. 

I laughed hysterically as I told them about the time that I came home from work on Halloween and found Jamie dressed as the Phantom. 

“Christ, please tell me he didna try to sing for ye,” Jenny said as she laughed with me. 

“That was my mistake. I asked him to sing “Music of the Night” to me and I shut that down after about five notes,” I informed them through my laughter. 

“Why the Phantom?” Ian asked. “Did he bring ye an elaborate dress to be Christine?” 

“He did actually find me a dress. It was ridiculous and rather hilarious.” Grabbing my phone, I pulled up the picture of the two of us from Halloween and showed it to them. We hadn’t gone anywhere, but it had been fun. I took a sip of my drink before answering his original question. “He dressed as the Phantom because one time, before we were even dating, I’d told him that when I first saw that show, I was attracted to the Phantom.” 

Ian burst out laughing. “Oh, Jamie.” 

“I will say,” I continued, “he worked that half mask quite well.” 

“It looks very becoming on him,” Jenny joked. 

After dinner, I let Jenny and Ian decide what we would do next. Jenny apologized, but dragged me to Rockefeller Center to go ice skating. I assured them it would be an insanely long line, but they had already made up their minds. I didn’t even try to keep track of how long we waited. We kept up conversation as we made our way through the line. Once we were allowed in, it was crowded, but admittedly, kind of fun. 

Ian gathered us together with the tree in the background. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of all of us. Showing it to us, we all commented that it was a good picture before Jenny and I skated off again. He caught up to us after a moment. “I sent it to Jamie,” he commented. “Thought he’d want a picture of all his favorite people.” 

I slowed unconsciously as I skated. It felt like an honor to be considered one of Jamie’s favorite people. Especially considering who the others were. 

That night, I had only been home for ten minutes when Jamie walked in the door. I turned around and he wrapped me in his arms, kissing me soundly. “Hi,” I greeted. 

“Hi,” he said, kissing me again. “How was yer evening?” 

I laid my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around him tighter. “It was really fun! I had a great time with Jenny and Ian.” 

He planted a kiss in my hair. “Good, I’m glad.” Standing back, he gave me a look. “So, I heard ye went ice skating at Rockefeller Center.” 

“I did.” 

“Isn’t that a bit touristy?” I rolled my eyes, knowing where this was going. “I once told ye that we should go to the top of the Empire State Building and you told me you wouldna be caught dead doing something so touristy.” 

“And I stand by that. We are both New Yorkers and don’t need to do that. But Jenny and Ian wanted to go ice skating, so we went. It wasn’t my decision,” I defended. “Also, I was with two tourists.” 

He shook his head, but I saw a small smile on his lips. “Whatever.” Jamie walked over to get a glass of water. “But ye had a nice time?” 

I nodded happily. “They’re great.” 

A broad smile crossed Jamie’s face. “I’m glad ye think so.” 

I walked over to where he was standing, tucking into his side. “Did they have anything to say?” 

His arm came around my waist. “Ian might have texted me to tell me how much fun they were having wi’ ye.” I glanced up at him and could tell by the look on his face how much it meant that we all got along. 

“So, how was the show?” I asked, changing the subject. Jamie started telling me, walking into our room as he changed clothes. I sat on the bed and listened. Once he was finished changing, he stood in front of me. Starting with a kiss, he laid me back on the bed and we were done talking about our evenings. 

* * *

I woke on Christmas morning to the feeling of lips against my cheek. Turning my head, I saw Jamie smiling next to me. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him in close. His arms came around me, holding me to him. 

The day before we’d spent with his family. It had been a fun day where the Frasers shared their Christmas traditions with me. There had been several times I’d glanced over at Jamie and saw the touched look on his face. If it meant a lot to me that his family was making me so welcome, it meant more to him. 

“What time is your family coming over today?” I asked as he started to kiss a trail down my neck. 

“Eleven.” 

“That’s rather late.” 

“Not to me,” he remarked. I peeled open one eye and looked at him. He met my gaze before moving his lips to my chest. “I wanted to have time to do what I wanted this morning.” 

“And what’s that?” 

His head lifted and he shot me a confused look. “If ye dinna ken the answer to that, then ye’re no’ really paying attention, are ye?” He pulled my pajama top up and brought his mouth down again. A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it. “There ye go.” I pulled my top up the rest of the way and threw it to the floor. His hand was at my other breast as he moved his way down my torso. 

He placed a kiss at my belly button when my hand went to his hair. “You realize you haven’t even kissed me yet this morning.” 

“What do ye consider this?” he asked, pointedly placing a kiss to my hip. 

I tugged at his hair, pulling him up toward me. “You know what I mean,” I said before crushing my mouth to his. He responded happily, chuckling against my lips. I held him to me as we shared a long, deep kiss. His body settled between my legs and I could tell he was ready for more. I was fine taking our time. 

He started pushing at my pajama pants and I shimmied them off with his help. We got him out of his and he returned to me with a heated kiss. Taking our time was out of the question now. His hands roved across my body, stoking the fire building within me. I shot my hips up to his and he ground against me. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I reached down and grabbed him. He groaned into my neck but took my hint. We moved together, paying attention to the other’s tells that we’d grown so familiar with in the last few months. It was a dance and we followed each other, finding our mutual pleasure in the other. Today, it was a slow dance, as we climbed higher and higher til we reached the crest together. 

Jamie laid next to me, my hand in his. Once I had enough energy, I rolled onto my side, facing him. “Can I say something in full sincerity?” He nodded. “This is probably the best Christmas morning I’ve ever had.” Jamie laughed and pulled me closer, kissing me soundly. 

A couple hours and a second round in the shower later, Jamie’s family arrived to celebrate Christmas with us. We opened presents and drank eggnog, told stories, and generally enjoyed everyone’s company. 

In the early afternoon, Ellen started making some Christmas cookies from scratch. She had a recipe she knew by heart — passed down from her mother and her grandmother before that. I felt overly emotional when she called me in to help her. As I stood in the kitchen with her, following her instructions and creating something with her, I started to miss my own mother. It had been years since I’d felt it so strongly. I’d been so young when she and my father passed, that often, I just didn’t recognize what I was missing. But as I stood there with Ellen Fraser, acting nearly like mother and daughter, I was overcome with emotion. Tears stung my eyes and I helped form the cookies and put them on the pan. She put them in the oven and I excused myself to my bedroom. 

Jamie followed me into the room, not saying anything, but wrapping me in a tight hug. He’d given me a family again — one that was more than just an orphaned girl and an overworked uncle. It was a strange sensation, but I knew I didn’t want to lose it. 

I pulled myself together and the rest of the day was spent working on the typical Fraser Christmas dinner. Jamie and I were far from experienced cooks, but we helped where we could. In the end, we all crammed around my small kitchen table and shared a lovely home cooked meal together. They told me stories of Scotland and made me yearn to go there someday. Jamie echoed his promise that he’d take me to see his home. 

When they were leaving, we all shared long goodbyes. Jamie was going to see them off tomorrow, but I wasn’t able to. In the few days they’d been here, they’d made me feel like part of the family. Like they were my family. I hugged them all tightly and told them, honestly, that I hoped I’d get to see them again soon. 

The next day when Jamie got back from taking them to the airport, I’d finished up a call with John that we’d scheduled. Neither of us had wanted to go into the office, but had things to discuss. I was walking out of my home office when he walked in. We met in the middle and shared a quick kiss. 

Jamie had a fond smile on his face. “They loved you, mo nighean donn.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh aye. It was all Mam could talk about. She kept saying that someday when I have more time, I have to bring ye to Scotland,” he informed me with a shake of his head. 

“Well, you know I’d like that.” 

He kissed my forehead. “Me too.” 

I took a deep breath, thinking on the conclusion I’d come to as he left to take his family back to the airport. I’d treasured the time with his family and how it had made me feel. They’d made me a part of their family in the few days that they’d been here and I loved it. 

But it only reminded me of how I’d never introduced Jamie to Uncle Lamb. He knew why I hadn’t and assured me it was fine. I was always worried about how Uncle Lamb would react. The odds of him approving of me dating an actor were slim to none. Still, when Ian had mentioned “Jamie’s favorite people” it made me feel bad that my favorite people had yet to meet. And they lived in the same city. Our relationship was a secret for a reason, but it didn’t need to be a secret from Lamb any longer. 

I held Jamie close and pressed my forehead to his. “So, I came to a conclusion.” 

His eyes opened and looked back at me. “Oh?” 

Taking a deep breath, I stood back and grabbed his hands. His eyebrows lifted as he watched me. 

“I want you to meet Lamb.”

Next chapter

[strayed-from-the-sun]

The Huntsman and the Knight

Waiting… Waiting…

The harsh sun's final hours were arriving and its brutal colors became an orange glow. The Keeper of the Moon was prone beneath a sand colored tarp high atop a well baked roof. He was motionless, still as a corpse with eyes fixed on the gates and roads into pearl lane. A pair of ice blue eyes scanned from beneath the tarp. He’d begin to slowly motion reaching for his paper.

One last look at his face.

The Moonkeeper had a good half hour left before his quarry would pass through here. It would be just them, no guards. No lights. The perfect ambush. He took this  moment to mentally prepare once more. Remembering the moments that brought him here. He spent three days alone studying the quarry and finding this ideal moment. He then remembered his contractor. That smug asshole. It was nearly a week before he took the job. Eliphas, another big name with a very big price on his head offered it. He’d never truly understand the magus that hired him. It was something the Enforcer of Ul'dah preferred to keep himself with his associates. He remembered the quarry.

Dimi...

Another Miqo’te, but this was an odd sort of Sunseeker. He was an easy mark to catch, too distinct. He learned the man supposedly came from Ishgard, and despite the outrageous claim it was very much a fact. He carried himself nobly, spoke like an Ishgardian, and skulked the nights and roads in armor not unlike most adventurers that come and go. He was very different, a stray amongst the crowd.

 Eliphas stated this adventure was a remnant of a client’s concluded business. A loose end of Adventurers that hadn’t been completely swept away. This adventurer, a knight, was taking vindication against the workings of the Syndicate underworld. It was honest and praiseworthy, but this was a business. 

Sami’ya wasn’t fond of taking a job like this but the pay was great, even if it had been from a snake like Eliphas.

Night fell and the window of opportunity was open. The streets of Pearl Lane were poorly lit for the night. This Dimi was likened to the cover of night and was on a chase of his own. Looking to cut down every conspirator of the downfall of his group. Sami could understand it, but he couldn’t fully sympathize. But the time to sympathize was over now. He was committed to hunt and he would see it through. ‘Bring him alive or dead. I dont care, I just need my client to know he can breathe easy again.’ Eliphas’s order rung in his head.

Sami drew his bow. His keen eyes quickly adjusted to the night. There he was. The knight appeared, carefully walking the streets. His darkened Ishgardian armor was heavy but the Sunseeker was adept at moving quietly in the street. Sami knocked an arrow. He wasn’t familiar with Ishgard armor but everything has its openings and soft spots. He spied a gap in the armor, Sami slowly crawled from the tarp. He carefully slumped up to a low firing posture. Dimi hadn’t spotted him yet, but the knight was cautious. He was aware there was something not right. It was too late, the hunter took his shot. The arrow hummed on the wind and struck the knight.

No good, the quarry turned and sunk into his armor but it wouldn’t be enough to pierce flesh. The arrow wedged itself in the abdomen of the armor between the chains and the plate which took the brunt of the shot. Dimi was quick, he grabbed the arrow to try and pry it loose but resorted to snapping the shaft in twain to keep it from impeding him. He reached for the flamberge on his back and turned to the direction the shot came from and spotted Sami who was in the rush. Another arrow knocked and loosed at the knight’s direction, this time for the head, but Dimi was able sidestep the shot. The knight charged forward with surprising speed, Sami had a lot of space to work with. He could see the path the knight would take, climbing on boxes and crates to get up to him. He loosed another arrow, struck in the shoulder but not deep. He was able to find a spot past the pauldrons of the knight armor.

He could see the fervent fury in Dimi’s eyes, but he was more than a leap away from being close, Sami’s instinct suddenly spelled danger, a shift in aether. He’d retreat to the next building and leapt upon it and found his gut to make a call. Dimi had leapt blade forward and struck it into the roof edge where the hunter was. It was terrifying. This was no ordinary knight if he could leap up and bury his blade into the roof in such a manner. Sami let off a shot hastily but it struck true, catching the soft part of the torso and digging deep. Dimi let out an audible grunt in pain. The shot was going to stop him for a moment but he’d still have plenty of fight no doubt. Blood trickled from the arrow’s shaft and dripped onto the rooftop and the knight took a second to evaluate the damage giving Sami the moment to retreat.

Sami spun around to climb to the next building, a quick leap off a ledge and a grab for the top and he was up. He felt another surge of aether but this time he hadn’t had the time to react. A crimson orb of energy struck him in the chest, suddenly bursting into thousands of needles many of which had run through his physical being. The sensation felt like a dozen small daggers pricking through his body in an instant. He coughed up blood and gasped for air in a panic but was able to recover in time. To his surprise the Knight had found a second wind and was at the chase again. The Sunseeker had been able to tear off the arrow from his shoulder and break loose the other. His armor was stained red now from his wounds but he showed no signs of slowing. 

Sami knocked back 3 arrows at once. There was no chance to miss. He pulled back and landed his trio of shots perfectly and the arrows dug into the knight. His other shoulder, neck and knee joint caught each shot and brought the knight down. Dimi fell to his knees, more blood dripping, his breath heavy and ragged. Sami could see it, the knight was in his death throes.

The knight proved his stamina once more however as a tumultuous surge of aether could be felt. The knight suddenly threw himself at Sami with ferocious speed. His eyes were different to the Hunter, noting the grayish blue hue was now a glowing red. The knight made a bestial growl as he grappled the hunter. Sami could barely react as the knight tackled him and slammed the hunter against the wall. Sami gasped in pain as his breath was forced out of his lungs. He recoiled from the shock of the impact. Again the Knight with what seemed like otherworldly strength would slam him against the wall, but there was less impact to it.

Sami was able to recuperate. He couldn’t break free from the Knight or reach for his dagger. He scrambled for whatever arrows he could grab and went for the neck. He jabbed and punched the arrow heads for his life now, thrashing as best as he could until the knight suddenly lost his grip. Sami kicked himself free as the knight stumbled backwards and collapsed.

Somehow the bastard is still alive

He cautiously approached the knight was more of a bloody mess now, Shattered arrow shafts and deep cuts from the grapple left the man covered in his own blood. Yet somehow the knight was still breathing, barely alive but held on. Sami stared down the knight. There was still life in his eyes, but it was fading. He watched the Miqo’te fall unconscious. His breathing was short till it was near stopped. Blood would trickle and pool on the rooftop. It began to drip over the side and onto the street below. The Hunter’s own breath was ragged but quickly calmed. He could feel every blow struck from the magic and from the grapple. He had been in many scuffles but few went as wild as this, at least with the people he tracked down.

Time was short for the Hunter, the window of opportunity was closing. He could hear the distant clanging of boots. The Blades were alerted to their fight and he’d have to leave. Sami gave the knight one last look. He could have made quick work and taken the knight’s life with a stroke of his dagger to the Sunseeker’s neck before fleeing, but he felt something.

This Dimi was a good man caught in poor circumstances and Sami felt respect for the man’s duty. He’d give the knight a fighting chance. Gil was gil and he’d still get his due. If the knight still walked, or was still eager to continue his pursuits it was no longer his problem. Sami collected his things quickly, he wiped the fresh blood from his hands off a cloth and would escape into the night.

[in-class-daydreams]

:000 Offends me?? For wanting to read my writing??? Anon, I adore you, you’re so sweet and I appreciate you being considerate of me <3 Thank you for the sweet ask and just for you, I will post a snippet of the first draft of Neo!Blue Star that I’m trying out!

Love,

Admin Mango-Chan

(Reposting this bc tumblr hates me and refuses to let me format my posts dammit)

NEW! Blue Star Sneak Peek under the cut!

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Chapters: [In Progress]

Genres: Fluff, angst, sexual implications/content

Warnings: None in this snippet

Summary: After a physically and emotionally traumatizing fall during Nationals in your first year of high school, you’ve decided that you hate volleyball now. You transfer to Seijoh High and apparently you’re an anime protagonist, because even when you want to keep your head down, drama seeks you out. You meet an avid fanboy of yours, come across an old friend, and apparently your childhood crush is stupidly hot now, so finishing high school is looking to be a lot harder than you thought.

That morning, I noticed someone staring at me, but I figured I was just being paranoid. I felt eyes on me again on my way back to the classroom. New kids get stares, sure but this dude’s gaze was locked on me.

He was a bit on the taller side with glasses and a ash brown undercut. Even with the glare from his glasses, I felt the intensity of his stare. His stare cut across the hall from his place leaning by the window, surrounded by a couple other students I assumed were friends of his. Despite their presence, his sole attention was on me, and I felt him looking at me all the way up until I got back to class.

‘Well, that was super creepy,’ I thought, but I ignored the uneasy feeling and opened my notebook to start class again.

Not a whole lot happened that first week of school. I went to class, that weird guy stared at me during breaks, then I went home. People stayed away from me and I kept my distance from them. It was the perfect setup. I did as much homework as I had the energy to do, and on my worse days, Wakatoshi came over to hang out and help me through the rest of it.

Nothing interesting happened until the following Tuesday, after I’d stayed behind after school to talk to an advisor. That was when I ran into that creepy weirdo in the stairwell after school.

“Oh, it’s you! Hi!” He grabs my hand in both of his. I immediately yank it back, but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead of replying, I just stare at him. He takes a step forward, ending up even deeper in my precious personal space.

“I’m Itoi Justin! I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet you!”

I lean back and eye him warily, getting a pretty good idea of where this conversation was headed.

“Uh, okay,” I say dumbly.

This Itoi is apparently perfectly content with having a one-sided conversation.

“I’ve been following your career since forever! I was so sad when you disappeared after your injury, and to think I’d meet you here of all places! It’s just-- I mean--!”

The guy is absolutely breathless in excitement, and it’s getting super uncomfortable.

“Look,” my nails scrape at the inside of my bracelet, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not her.”

I sidestep him to make for the exit, but he gets in front of me. Once again, he’s way too close.

“No!” He shakes his head so hard I’m worried his glasses are gonna fly off, “I’d know you anywhere! You’re her, you’re the Blue Star!”

Blue Star. Huh. I haven’t genuinely been called that in a long time.

“You used to be-- Hey, are you okay? I’m not gonna bite you, y’know.”

I glare up at him. He seems to shrink back a bit even though he’s almost a head taller than me.

“Well, I’m in an empty stairwell with some guy I don’t know who likes getting up in my personal space,” I poke a finger into his shoulder and he steps back willingly, “And he’s bringing up old shit that I moved here to avoid, so I can’t say I’m having a great time right now.”

Itoi visibly deflates. Even his glasses seem to slide down his nose a little bit in disappointment. He looks so sad that I feel kinda bad for being mean to him, even though I’m like this to everyone.

“Oh, I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says quietly. He shifts in his spot like he wants to stay, but is having second thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, shoving my hands into the pocket of the hoodie I’m wearing under my uniform blazer. I brush past him, fully intending to make a hasty exit, but I can’t seem to get myself to leave. Cursing myself, I turn back around.

“Fine, Ichi--”

“Itoi.”

“--you come on a little strong, but I appreciate that you were my fan at some point.”

I take a labored seat on the stairs and try my best not to manspread in a skirt. Resting my elbows on my thighs I look back up at him.

‘Mm, he’s pretty cute,’ I think to myself.

It seems like all the life came back to him with that one sentence pseudo-apology. His eyes are shining with delight and he takes a seat next to me. He acknowledges my need for space, as he slides away from me to the other side of the stair.

“My father’s a journalist for the same publisher as Volleyball Monthly. He took me to one of your games for an article of his and I’ve been a fan ever since,” he tells me. “Even after my dad transferred to a different magazine, I kept following your career online.”

I make a face like I drank rotten milk, “Why?”

Itoi turns to me. For the first time, his face is missing the overwhelming excitement and it’s replaced by gentle, but passionate, admiration.

He grins, “I wondered that myself. I thought it was weird how interested I was in some random city girl’s volleyball career.”

“It is pretty weird,” I say.

The brunette huffs a laugh at my comment, “Maybe, but… I don’t know. It’s like when I saw you play, you weren’t just playing the game. It seemed like the game flowed through you. Your game came as naturally to you as breathing, and I could understand how you got your nickname. I never saw someone shine so bright.”

Even while my nails are nervously dragging against the engraving, I resist my desire to flee. Of course I’d been praised before, but never so openly and so, I guess, genuinely. My heart is stuttering in my chest in embarrassment, and I can’t seem to keep my voice stable.

“I-- Uh, thanks,” I grunt.

Itoi leans in further, “But I confess, I came to talk to you for a reason.”

“You came to murder me horribly.”

“Sadly, no.”

“Darn.”

The boy giggles. He looks forward and seems to stare off into space. “So, after I saw you and how electric you were playing volleyball, I tried to learn to play myself.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Terribly. I have the athletic skills of soft tofu.”

The corners of my mouth lift slightly.

“Once I realized I’d never be good at volleyball ever, I became a manager of the boys’ team in my first year. I’m better at the thinking and the analyzing, y’know?”

“We’re really playing into that glasses character stereotype, aren’t we?” I quip.

“You bet we are. The thing is, there’s a certain level of thinking to the game that requires experience on the court. I can’t provide that, but--” his intensity is back up and his eyes are boring into my soul, “You can.”

I pause, taking in everything he’s saying. The implication of what he’s asking washes over me like a hurricane.

“No.”

“Hear me out--!”

“No way!”

I stand up and stomp towards the exit.

“You need to join a club anyway!” He says desperately. Itoi gets up to follow me.

I reply without turning around, “I don’t care.”

“Don’t you want to be involved with volleyball again?” he asks.

My jaw clenches almost painfully. He takes me by the arm, and rather than slap him silly, I say nothing, and he continues.

“You used to love it. I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been going through, but I can’t imagine you want to abandon it completely,” he says desperately.

His tone makes my chest hurt for some reason. Right now, he’s annoying the crap out of me. He met me today. He’s only ever seen the me play volleyball at my tragically early prime, and he’s naive to think that using some lines an anime protagonist would say right before the final battle would magically fix every problem I’ve ever had since I ate shit in front of hundreds of people a year ago.  I couldn’t tell you how I feel about abandoning volleyball but I do know that I feel like I want to vomit whenever I see a net.

I violently wrench my arm away and put space between us.

“You’re right,” I snap. “There’s no way you could understand what I’m going through. But don’t feel bad,” I hitch my bag up higher and throw a look backwards over my shoulder, “Not a single person does. Find yourself another manager.”

As I leave, I fully expect Itoi Justin to stop fanboying once and for all after finding out that the Blue Star is a bitchy, cynical person who can’t even play volleyball anymore anyway. I guess it was my fault for underestimating his blind faith in me.

“So?” he asks.

I stop in the doorway in surprise.

“What?”

He crosses his arms, making no move to come closer to me now that he has my attention. I could walk out the door right now, heaven knows I wanted to, but somehow that asshole knows I’m going anywhere.

“Of course no one understands how you feel. People may have seen you get injured or have heard of it, but in the end, you’re the one that got hurt. How’s anyone else supposed to know what you’re thinking? Bite and snap at me all you want, but it won’t make me feel your pain.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I want you to be co-manager with me. I’m in my third year and I want the team to be taken care of after I graduate. I’m not asking you to play again or to give me an answer right now, just… Just consider my offer, okay? No one on the team knows who you are, if that makes you feel any better. And there’s one more thing...” he hesitates.

“Hurry up,” I say.

“The truth is, Seijoh has never gone to Nationals before,” he says slowly. “But you? You were projected MVP for a team almost certain to make it to at least the semi-finals!”

I give him a look, “And we both know that definitely didn’t happen.”

“I know, I know! I just-- They - the boys, I mean - have been working so hard and they’re so talented, (L/N). Please, you need to join a club anyway, and if you can’t do it to save your own soul or as a favor to me, can’t do it to help them? You remember wanting to go to Nationals, don’t you? Volleyball Monthy listed you as the number--” I cut him off.

“Holy shit, you talk so much it makes my head hurt!” Rubbing my forehead, I think about my first year in high school. He’s wrong about most things he said about me, but he’s right that, at one time, I wanted nothing more than to win Nationals. I remember wanting it so bad, by entire being would electrify just thinking about it.

Itoi waits patiently as I stare at the floor in careful deliberation. With a loud sigh, I look back up at him.

“Fine,” I snap.

“You’ll consider it?” he practically screeches.

“I’ll consider considering it,” I grumble and try once more to take my leave. He doesn’t stop me this time, but when I’m out of sight, I can hear his excited screaming echoing throughout the stairwell.

[flowerflamestars]

Awakening and Reunion

PART ONE  PART TWO PART THREE  PART FOUR  PART FIVE

It was the most vibrant, beautiful autumn the land along the Wall had ever seen.   Never before had the end of summer fruit stretched so ripely into the colder season. The trees changed as they always did, but what had once been paintbox color now gleamed like jewels over the hills. Brightest of all- the Archeron apple orchard, bursting with sunset colors, bushels of apples that never seemed to grow less crisp, whose white and pink tinged flesh could cure a cold or heal a weary heart, not that anyone but Lucien and the sisters noticed.   Elain had sidestepped the questions of guests in their gardens, was that bonfire smoke? But after the third or so comment about the just slightly otherworldly state of their lands, Elain had smiled.   “We’re blessed to have such a good year for it,” She said, real grin slipping onto her face, “Spring flowers are one thing, but autumn is my favorite season.” The urge to smile back had been overpowering.  “ You’re doing it again,” Nesta said, pulling Lucien from remembrance back to their late night meeting.   Posture perfect despite sitting crosslegged atop her desk, she raised one cool brow at him.   Lucien growled back- a sound he wouldn’t have dared make in their presence months ago- but made himself relax the predatory tilt of his head. “You do it all the time too.”   She did. Despite their many careful plans and schemes: making sure he passed for human, filling their roles perfectly and jumping through a half dozen legal loopholes to keep the trade running- Elain and Nesta both failed often to follow the patterns of the other mortals around him.   Perched sideways in Nesta’s desk chair, Elain laughed.

  She’d come in her night things, a silken slip and robe so gauzy Lucien had been warming the room by degrees the second he’d seen her.   It was only like this- after the house was quiet and still, that they spoke of important things. He’d warded the room against being overheard, but that wouldn’t stop a concerned ladies maid from finding her charges out of bed and talking.   The pale robe slipped down Elain’s arm as she picked up a mug. Lucien absolutely did not count the freckles he could see, even in the faint light. Paler than copper, lighter than his own skin, they glowed on her. “I thought you were going to tell us more about the Courts,” She said to him, grinning over the rim of thick earthenware they used when the maids didn’t do the tea making. “And you,” Elain craned up at Nesta, “Have letters from Hesperia.”   Against one window golden faelight battered, a will-o-whisp attracted, as they seemed unerringly to be, to wherever Nesta was.   All that Autumn on their ancestral land, magic bled straight from Lucien’s veins. It had been a hard conversation- one he’d feared would make this trust and easy company between them now impossible- explaining what he’d done.   That even Lucien himself wasn’t wholly sure what, beyond claiming their lands and bending them toward protection, he had started. Blood magic wasn’t just risky, or difficult, it called on the oldest forces of power- and so often like wild fae places, followed its own rules.   Faeries couldn’t cross the borders without Lucien- and now Nesta, who’d refused to let Elain take any of the burden, who’d slit her own wrists to be bound as a protector- feeling it. It would be impossible, almost completely, to hurt anyone of Acheron blood within their acres.   They’d slowly added wardings, Lucien’s magic, but keyed to the sisters: to avoid detection, for further protection, to the house, to Nesta’s library that became their gathering space, to the orphanage and the village school.   Every protect they could think of, for their precarious position along the Wall Lucien had blazed through like a forest fire. It was impossible not to notice when close- for as fas as Lucien knew, for the first time in six thousand years, the Spring Court border remained broken.   It felt like a warning.   And the warnings had only kept coming.   Nesta scowled at the will-o-whisp, before shrugging an elegant shoulder. “It’s all more of the same; the Great Desert united for the first time in two thousand years, the wyrms will rise with them. And this.” She passed a sky blue paper to Elain, whose own mouth set, glancing over it, before she passed it on to Lucien.   It was a sparse, single sentence, sparkling black on vivid blue. “‘The ships have stopped coming. The High Lord is closing the borders of the Night Court’?” Lucien quoted. How exactly Nesta Archeron, a human who’d never been over the Wall had a direct, if not always helpful line on the Night Court, was not an answer Lucien had ever gotten.   Elain set her robe to rights. “Half the continent rallies for war, and Rhysand closes his borders? Does that mean neutrality, or is it possible all that effort is really to go after one court?”   Lucien was sure of very few things about that High Lord, but one was that he wasn’t a coward. “If the aim is to take Prythian whole, the Night Court would have to be eliminated first. It is possible.” Lucien sat back, trying to carefully phrase the ambiguity of that male they were hoping- praying- was keeping their younger sister safe. “Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord in our history. He’s as much like the other rulers as high fae gentry might be to a normal human.”   “I can’t imagine the other Courts want to ally with him."   Elain was, of course, correct. “Not after Amarantha,” Lucien agreed, passing back the paper as Nesta reached for it. “Beron will see any conflict as an opportunity to expand his borders. But after the last fifty years, peace is going to the most popular option unless the High Lords hands are forced.”    Calmly, Nesta dropped the missive in a thickly cast bowl he’d hitherto assumed was decorative, and touched a candle to the urge. Pale fire burst forth, incinerating it- not sparkling ink, incendiary ink.   “Where did you say that came from?”   “One of the trading capitals,” She answered with that viper smile, aggression and secrets. How stupid, Lucien reflected for not the first time, human men must be not to feel the danger of both these women. “What I want to know, is why aren’t there any High Ladies?”   Elain raised her eyebrows in silent, echoing query. Different from her determined, furious older sister who researched like she’d use it to fight the world, Elain had been subtly pumping him for every shade and flavor of information about faery life.   Not that he wouldn’t answer any question she had.   But Elain was smart enough, in those early days, to not actually ask. Lucien admired the skill nearly as much as he valued the trust and actual friendship that had followed.   Still, he winced. “Amarantha killed outright the High Lady of Dawn immediately, and spent the next decades steadily culling out potential females heirs to powerful bloodlines. She assumed, correctly, that Prythians wild magic was stronger in female hands.”   It was the same thing Hybern had done during the War. How his mother had lost all three of her sisters- and would have died herself, if not for the intervention of the High Lord of Day. Lucien owned the fact of his existence to Helion Spell-Cleaver, and he’d been raised to know it.   After all, Vanserra always remembers.   Long after the will-o-whisps faded and Nesta retired to bed, Elain and Lucien remained in the golden quiet of the library. It no longer shocked him in quite the same way, her lack of fear, her trust that he knew only appeared to be an easy thing. But they’d gotten so used to each others company- the small touches to continue the public love story, the attentive behavior as instinctive as breathing for Lucien, the honesty, as they lied to everyone else- that it no longer had a hard stop.    It was natural, and Lucien could have cut his teeth on how badly he wanted it be wholly real.   One of the great clocks of the house chimed two in the morning before they grew quiet, curls escaping Elain’s long braid as she played with the end. Three seasons passed, and Lucien still hadn’t satisfied all of her curiosity.   He hoped it never ended.   “Seasonal I understand, there’s a feel to that,” Elain was saying now, “But why times of day?”   Tired and foolishly brave, Lucien moved faery quick to catch the red ribbon holding her braid as it finally gave to slip free. He plucked it from the air so fast that, as he knew now, with these months that made him stronger and madder and more, her beautiful human eyes couldn’t follow.   Elain didn’t even flinch.   What existed at all of his filters for this one human girl- who’d he’d never lied to, would never lie to, this blooming, dangerous woman- disappeared. “I might be one of the only faeries who can tell you that, actually.”   She took the ribbon from his nerveless grasp, fingertips branding like she were the one with incendiary skin. “Will you tell me?”   Smiling wide enough she probably saw his sharp teeth, Lucien stole it back. “Autumn was, is, the oldest court. Still, I only know pieces. The forest and the wild fae came first. Beron was a warlord then, and bound the first territory in his blood. They say he bled out his own brothers to expand the border by each mile- it was under the light of the harvest moon, the dying of the year, and as they bled under the bone trees whose white trunks have long whispers the secrets of our dead, the red of their leaves spread and spread, Autumn, willy and old, arcane and bloody, grew a soul.”   Elain’s head was half-cocked, her lips curved in a smile that he’d learned meant she had a dozen, a hundred questions. “If Beron made Autumn, Autumn, does that mean that when the title passes, the territory could change?”   He was shaking his head before she was done. “The problem is that there’s magic,”  With half a thought, and more than a little smugness at her delighted laugh, Lucien filled the air with tiny butterflies, teardrop wings flickering between gold and blue flame as they flew, “And then there’s the magic of Prythian itself. What started as the whims of powerful, warring gentry took root and grew into something they couldn’t control. It created quirks, anomalies- Night Court has some innate providence over the magic of mind and soul. Day Court possesses immunity, there’s never been an enchantment spoken the Spell Cleaver couldn’t break. Autumn keeps the ways of blood and bone.”   “Blood and bone,” Elain quoted back, taking the ribbon from his intertwined fingers. “In all your stories, you left out a vital lesson.”   He was frozen as she slid a hand over his wrist, so near tenderness he could taste it in the air. “And what’s that?” Lucien rasped   She looped the ribbon once, twice, before looking up to meet his gaze. In the candle light, her eyes were unfathomably dark, pupil less pools like dryads. “High fae,” Elain whispered, tying a perfect bow tight against Lucien’s now racing pulse. “Are all drama queens.”   He had to make himself laugh back, heart thudding in his ears at double time. When she finally retired back to bed, the sky bleeding black into blue, Lucien stayed where he was. One by one, the butterflies extinguished, until all he was left with was the scent of honeysuckle and fire, a red ribbon winking from his wrist. There were a thousand shades of red is his long lost home: to call enchantment down, to love, to bind, to hunt, to possess.   A bounty, he could never, ever have.   It didn’t occur to Lucien then, or for such a long time it seemed dreamed, that she’d placed it to match the mark of his teeth that lay silver against her own pulse. Elain Archeron, after all, learned fast and learned well. — It took three more weeks, the harvest brought in and the estate-consuming activity of making cider that Lucien had more fun than he’d admit overseeing to pass, before the day they’d discussed and discussed came. Nesta woke at dawn, jaw set tight when she found him on the rise of the now dormant orchards, looking down over the house grounds and beyond to the freshly plowed land, blanketed in white. “You feel them coming too?”   There’d been incursions in the past- curious Spring fae wandering and returning, others, flying overhead whose providence Lucien could guess. This was something new, the feel of magic, but also that pulse- like the land reaching out to Elain barefoot in her garden, like the wards shuddering when Nesta bled.   It was the first snowfall of the year, and Feyre Archeron was coming home. — He felt it when they arrived, hours later.   Feyre, not as strong of an imprint as her sisters but gleaming with magic. The black, monstrous ocean on the edge of vision that told him Rhysand had accompanied her personally. Two more, not High fae, that Lucien had to guess were members of Rhysand’s court.   Not that he could see anything for sure, since he was halfway up a frozen cypress tree.   That was Lucien’s job in this plan: wait, hide without magic to avoid detection.   Long enough for Elain and Nesta to explain to their sister the life they’d built from the ashes of their fathers idiocy, the precautions and plans in place for their dangerous, tenuous life on Spring’s edge.   They deserved privacy for that long awaited reunion.   And some selfish part of Lucien was glad not to have to see the pain on their faces when they saw Feyre as fae. It was one thing to be fascinated with faery power- as they both were in different ways. Merchants daughters, they’d grown with eyes on the horizon, fed impossible stories.   Another, to have become the three-headed monster they all were together.   But faeries were still the horrors of endless nightmares along the Wall. Even knowing Feyre had been transformed, seeing it could be something very different.   He really wasn’t ease-dropping, ignoring the familiar pitch of female voices as they rose and rose in volume. From a distance, Nesta and Feyre sounded alarmingly alike, yelling.   Idly, he tied and retied the red ribbon twisted at the end of a small braid. The old, wild gentry of the Alder hills named their knots- Lucien wished he’d learned them all. This day was certain to go to hell, but at least Feyre wouldn’t see an ounce of Spring when she looked at him.   Several things happened at once.   From the empty nowhere of the shadows from leaves in this dim interior of branches, a winged warrior appeared, and shoved Lucien from the tree.   Suddenly, Elain’s voice joined the shouting. Feyre yelled right back- but Nesta, the slam of doors and rushing booted feet, Nesta was running.   And then, mid winnow to the safety of the ground- Lucien’s last thought as the shadow of wings shrouded him, fucking Illyrians- the dark reached out and swallowed him whole.   He lost track, he lost time- it was close to drowning, seeing the world from the bottom of an ocean. But Lucien could swim, could see underwater.   Through the haze of shadow- shadows that burned, no familiar fire, but ice so cold Lucien knew he was losing skin- he could hear the crunch of bone and Nesta’s indignant- not really indignant, he knew that, terrified, she was terrified and furious- voice.   Who the hell was so stupid as to grab Nesta? She’d make them pay- Elain would make them pay- he’d make them pay.   But none of it was real, nothing truly penetrated the world of shadow that bound him until Lucien heard that light gait he knew by heart, running. Snow flying from beneath fleet feet, her pounding heart loud in his ears. Barely real, until Elain’s furious voice cut through the dark.     A second, patient voice- a too calm voice- that told Lucien his attacker was exactly who he’d expected, was speaking to her. If Lucien had been wrapped in anything but shadow, it would have combusted instantly. They’d agreed- they’d all agreed, uncomfortable with the verdict in very different ways- that if Rhysand’s people attacked and went for Lucien as would be the only smart move, he wouldn’t hurt anyone badly.   They didn’t know he was here for himself. The honorable Spring Court vassal had died by fire.   This wasn’t a real fight. But he wanted to kill that male for even standing near Elain.   The gods and Lucien didn’t care about his pain- he could get free of burning shadow, vicious darkness. But if the High Lord of the Night Courts pet shadowsinger even breathed wrong in Elain’s direction, this fight would become much more real.   He’s seen the burn scars on his hands, once, from a distance. Lucien would turn him into a pillar of ash, burn him past recognition of even those iron immortal bones. They’d all be ash, if whoever was holding Nesta didn’t back off.   Lucien would kill anyone who touched his family.   This was the truth of High Fae instincts, hidden beneath court ritual and ageless years. Humans had told tales about it: the love of an immortal heart can never, ever die. It was a romantic story of a faery knight, a quest past the moon and stars to save a mortal love who was doomed to perish with the suns rise.   Humans put too much stock in romance.   What they didn’t understand was that the ties of High Fae were a savage thing, uncontrollable and unyielding. You had to find your brethren. It wasn’t just mate bonds that made the upper echelons of their society dangerous. Faeries like Lucien were made for that fairytale quest- not for a maiden- but to find belonging, the very thing that pumped in his blood with every step across the Acheron lands.   He’d always been alone before.   And Lucien would be damned if he let the Night Court threaten what he’d found.   That deep water voice was still talking- saying that Rhys was coming, that they were safe, that he was a Spring Court spy, that nothing would touch Elain.   And Elain- oh Elain- Lucien could smell her rage. It burned the honeysuckle and sun right out of her scent, until she was awash with fire. He might have been delirious with pain, but how she ravaged him.   It was one thing for humans to underestimate her, Elain usually wanted them to. But that any faery could look at her and fail to see the depth of the cleverness in those eyes, the absolute control and charm: markers of dangerous high fae, was beyond him.   “You will let him go.” Lucien had never heard her voice like that. In response, that burning ice bit harder. Blackness- deeper than shadow, darker than any sky. Light had never lived in these spaces.   Lucien groaned.   And Elain- Elain snarled. “These are Archeron lands. And you will let him go.”   Lucien couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anymore suddenly, couldn’t breathe. Was Azriel trying to suffocate him? He’d expected them to try to kill him- pain wasn’t an issue- but Lucien wasn’t about to lay down and die.   That was when the scent of blood reached him.   And so Lucien clenched his teeth and remembered. His mother’s voice saying, my little star. The Wild Hunt, no high fae among them,  pulling him straight into the sky. Sorcha, teaching him magic far away from the High Lord of Autumn, telling him to remember.  Little star, we are Vanserra, and your fire is like the sun.  Lucien burned, and like the sun’s rise, the dark and cold couldn’t win.   The first thing he saw was red. Elain’s muddy, icy skirts, in front of his face as she stood between him and an Illyrian warrior. Who was in process of drawing a knife whose reputation was nearly as long as that of the male holding it. Winnowing hurt. But Lucien didn’t care. He slammed into the ground on the other side of her. “Don’t touch her.”   Fire so white it put the snow to shame ringed them with the words, but Elain grabbed Lucien’s side anyway. “You’re bleeding,” She hissed, but Lucien was more interested in the blood already on one of her hands.   Staggered upright, he tried not to list too heavily into her. “Only from my pores.”   Elain made a noise that went right past sympathy into fury. She moved her hands higher, clutching tunic and coat in fists like she was going to hold him upright with will alone. It took the smear, her shaking rage, to note that blood was too red, too thick.   Nothing he said now wouldn’t be heard by Azriel but Lucien spied it- the gleam of emerald inlay.  An impossibly small Spring Court dagger, buried in the Illyrian’s shoulder.   He found the hand on his back and covered it for just a moment, squeezing. Outwardly, Elain didn’t react at all, glaring out the fire like she wanted to rip the male in front of them apart. But Lucien knew she knew, felt the very slightest tension drain from her body.   Azriel had gone stone cold, silent. That was all the warning Lucien got the half second before Rhysand winnowed before them, bringing Feyre along.   It hurt- a good hurt, to see how well Feyre looked. Healthy, strong, like remaking hadn’t left her delicate at all. Glowing in Night Court clothes, comfortable armed and wearing a crown. Feyre wasn’t just okay, she was finally thriving.   She looked good, that split second before she spit Luciens name like a curse. “Let my sister go." Rhysand and Azriel were exchanging hard eyed looks. The melted snow around Lucien’s wall of fire began to form ice.   Elain didn’t even flinch. Knowing they were too close, she was smart enough to muffle the words against his coat. “I lost Nesta on the way out. Can you?-“   Lucien whispered back, because frankly, he didn’t give a damn what Rhysand thought was going on. “I can hear her. She found an Illyrian of her own to make bleed.” Over Elain’s shoulder, Lucien bared his teeth at Azriel’s fathomless face.   Feyre paced even closer. “Bleed?”   It was the same tone of voice he’d heard every single time she’d done something impulsive as a human.   She held out one hand, like passing through water, and tried touch the wall. The sizzle was horrible enough- but Feyre’s clenched jaw as she called her own droplet of Autumn power was audible. Fire against fire? No. Trying to spool his back toward herself. Had she really learned that? To turn the drop of each High Lords gift back against their source? But the flames didn’t mix- Lucien bore down on the star in his chest. With a low boom that turned Rhysand’s scowl murderous, Feyre was thrown backward.   Skidding through mud and snow, she flung herself back upright with a noise of complete anger.  “I will kill you if you try to take her to Spring, Lucien. I swear on the Cauldron.”   Elain’s grip tightened until the fabric tried to give. The only reason she wasn’t yelling back, Lucien was sure, was that Nesta wasn’t safe with them in the circle.   But her shouting had become audible to everyone.   “PUT ME DOWN- YOU WORTHLESS- REVOLTING SAVAGE- PUT ME DOWN NOW”-   The most feared General in Prythian’s history had a broken nose. Blood tricked steadily from the off center feature, unflinching as Nesta kicked and screamed. He was using that superior strength to carry her away from his body- arms out. Gods and immortal honey.   In a kind, calm voice that belied his wince as one of Nesta’s feet managed to connect, The Lord of Bloodshed spoke. “Here, see. I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to stop you from running into the fight- it’s okay.” He repeated it over and over those last few steps to join them, like a low chant. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”   Nesta was terrified.   Feyre swore. “Nesta, this is Cassian. He’s my friend. We’re going to get Elain out and-“   Nesta slammed her head back into Cassian’s face again, and this time he dropped her. Like they’d all practiced, Nesta ducked around Feyre to dive right into the fire and land at Elain’s other side, chest heaving.   Everyone stopped.   In the growing mud puddle made by the heat, Elain slid half in front of Lucien before taking Nesta’s hand. Together again, they stood tall. Lucien wanted nothing more than to hide them both behind his body. To burn Azriel to nothing for scaring Elain, to rip the wings from Cassian for thinking he could touch Nesta.   But they wanted to make Feyre understand, and he wouldn’t interrupt that.   Already breathing more normally, Nesta tilted her face to completely ignore the tableau of dangerous fae before them. “Whose idea was the hideout plan Vanserra? There’s blood in my hair.”   She was really asking if either of them had gotten hurt, and he heard it.   Like he didn’t have a care in the damn world, Lucien bared his teeth in a red-tinged smile. “I’ll show you what magic to get up to with it.”   Still glaring forward, Elain blindly held her free hand up to his face. It was an effort not to catch her waving fingertips and hold on. “I got some too.”   “You know each other.” Feyre was vibrating with tension. “How do you even know each other?!”   “Perhaps,” Elain said in that utterly steady, silk voice no one should want to be on the wrong side of, “You should have asked that before you attacked.”   The most powerful High Lord in Prythian turned huge, otherwordly eyes on her. Lucien could feel the power in the air, that tinge of darkness, electric and consuming,- and fought back the urge to get between Elain and Rhysand’s deadly focus. Feyre opened her mouth, to protest, judging by that stubborn face, but he stopped her with hand brushed over her shoulder. “I think we’re all missing some details. We should talk. Peacefully.”   “Yes,” Nesta ground out, “Let’s talk about how you left assassins in our garden."   Rhysand raised his hand in an utterly false surrender, tattoos flashing from both wrists. Had he really marked himself to match Feyre? A crown on her head and a living vow between them. She didn’t smell like him yet, but Rhysand wasn’t just branding her as his. He was placing her as a ruler.   With a crack of resetting cartilage and bone, the fellest Illyrian warlord their tribes had ever produced stopped in step next to Feyre. “I’m not an assassin.” He wasn’t looking at anyone but Nesta. “We’re here to keep Feyre safe from human discovery, to make sure nothing happens to you or your sisters because of this visit.”   Nesta’s only reply was to toss her hair from her face.   Marking the moment as much as he was, Elain leaned a little harder against his side. “Let’s talk then.”   And there was the catch, on Rhysand’s smug face. Bastard. “Of course we will not hold peace talks of any kind with a member of the Spring Court.”   Lucien had the words, but Elain beat him to it.   “Luckily,” She purred, “You’ll find no such being here.” She gestured with one graceful hand, Illyrian blood drying a purple red on her palm. “If you’re looking for Spring proceed a few miles that way. There’s a hole big enough in the Wall for a small army, and the boundary wards are down.”   Rhysand didn’t even twitch, but Feyre stopped cold. “You left Tamlin?”   There was no room for what Lucien was feeling. “The same night you did.” The look that passed between them was understanding- more understanding than Lucien had been able to hope for. Feyre was his friend, and he’d failed her.     Feyre marked him as a survivor, and there was no blame there.   But the last thing in the world Lucien wanted was sympathy from gods damned Rhysand, so he kept going. “I don’t make a habit of keeping vows to madmen.”   Elain’s cheek brushed his chest for half a second, the bloody fabric trying to stick. The tightness in his ribs uncoiled, his wounds healed. Faery grace- did she know she had it? At least where he was concerned? Elain refilled his lungs without even trying.   In the pause while Rhysand stared at Lucien, and Lucien stared back- fucking prick, he thought Lucien could be leveled by a gaze? Rolled by that superior power? Lucien was oak, Vanserra. He’d grown up under the hateful eyes of the oldest High Lord, the first and only ruler of Autumn- Azriel pulled the knife from his shoulder and cleaned it, stone-faced.   The aggression in the air was a blades edge.   Elain, brave Elain, pulled on the hilt. “If that’s settled, we’ll adjourn to the house for a real meeting.”   Like it was automatic, showing for perhaps the first time how much younger than the others she was, Feyre crossed her arms, scowling. “I still don’t understand”-   Nesta’s hand tightened visibly in Elain’s. Lucien thought he was the only one to see that silent signal, but the Illyrian general’s wings flared. Had he looked away from her, even once?   There was no response for Elain to make- already, her hands had drifted to clutch Lucien’s waist in a death-grip that was leagues away from how she’d usually take his hand in this moment. Because of the danger, he reminded himself, because you were hurt.   She smiled at her younger sister. “We’ll tell you everything, but let’s get out of the snow, Fey.”   Goodbye enough, Lucien winnowed them away. — The High Lord of the Night Court was not having a good day.   In the deafening silence after Lucien Vanserra disappeared with Feyre’s older sisters, Azriel’s voice, more rueful than his icy face, tapped at the back of Rhysand’s mind. Rhys let him in, and the memory played back in color: Elain Archeron, more fleet of feet in that highborn ladies dress than anyone would have guessed, running through the snow.   The ridiculous jeweled knife in Azriel’s arm, because there was no world under the sky or stars he’d fight back against a tiny human woman in distress.   Vanserra, going off like a supernova, and escaping shadows that should have dragged him from this world to the next. It wasn’t fire, Az rumbled, but it burned. Rhys didn’t let it show on his face. He himself could have escaped those shadows whose scope and providence couldn’t be fully learned- but not without hurting Azriel in the process. And not by consuming them.   It was leagues from a traditional Autumn gift. Stay high, Rhysand requested, but check the border. I want to know if Vanserra really broke the boundary.. With a nod, Az shot into the sky.   Rhys didn’t know Lucien personally. Only in Feyre’s stories: a friend, an ass, a comrade, whose fate in Spring had left her with a sick worry. He could be glad the male was alive just for that, but the facts beyond it were slim.   Born after the war, but no one knew when. The obvious and only heir to his fathers court, despite the mess of brothers and carrying his mother’s name in constant defiance. It was common knowledge Beron hated his youngest, seventh son. For power, maybe- but it wouldn’t have taken much to outstrip the brutes born before him.   But Lucien’s bright fire had been driven out of Autumn centuries ago.   As Tamlin’s emissary he had a good reputation in other courts, close ties to both Dawn and Winter. Charming, clever- he’d been the fox in the Spring Court menagerie the night Amarantha took the land.   Raw, unchecked power had never been part of the picture.   Power beholden to no one; Lucien Vanserra was a time bomb. No High Lord to answer to, diplomatic ties to nearly every Court, and a long enough troubled past to bear grudges.   And Hybern’s soldiers were coming for them all. — The blood on her hands wasn’t all drying red.   Elain hadn’t thought to compare it before, the ruby of Luciens and near purple of the winged warriors smeared on her palm was tangibly inhuman. In the pale austerity of the sitting room they’d decided to ward in preparation for this very day, it was all so impossible she found herself smiling.   This was their home and they would defend it. Lucien, so close their sides brushed, returned the expression savagely. She’d made herself let go the second they landed, but by some mutual agreement neither had moved as Nesta stomped to the velvet-hung window.   Friendship, comfort. Elain wouldn’t let herself think it was more- think about the way he’d looked, covered in blood and burning like a star, barely able to stand and still protecting her.   “Those weren’t just guards,” She said, shaking back damp hair.   With a flick on his fingers, her hair and dress both dried, mud and blood vanishing. Elain didn’t have to look to know he’d extended the same courtesy to Nesta as well. “Member’s of Rhysands inner Court. The Shadowsinger and the High Command of the Illyrian legions.”   Elain nodded, only to be cut off by Nesta dropping the hangings with a huff. “Those are the Illyrians?”   Through the scathing voice, Elain knew what Nesta was probably thinking. Those are the creatures of our childhood faerytales? Warriors of impossible skill, impossible courage. As beautiful as they were deadly, who defined their lives by solemn honor. Once upon a time, the guardians of royal children; a single, forsworn Illyrian was worth more than an army.   Nesta had always loved stories of the fierce at heart.   A faint tremor echoed through the walls, silken wallpaper of almond blossoms shimmering. Lucien could winnow in and out- but no one else. At least not while a drop of Archeron blood remained under their roof.   Softly, fingertips even now in the dead of winter darker than gold ghosted a caress over the back of Elain’s hand. “Are you ready?” It was a whisper, just for her.   Elain let her smile twist, let the happiness and triumph and real anxiety show in her face. “Let’s find out what they really want.” They’d seen the truth of them already, Elain didn’t imagine she could gain back the ground of being the sweet sister it was safe to talk to after stabbing someone.   At the warning of the wards as someone- Rhysand, Elain would guess- trying to winnow directly to where they were, Nesta had crossed the room. Shaking herself from the savage light in Lucien’s golden eyes, Elain followed to sink down on a plush lavender couch.   Casually, Lucien followed, to lean in that elegant slump against a pillar between them and the door.   Just in time for Feyre to crash through it. “Nice wards,” She snapped in a tone that made Nesta freeze tighter and Elain wince. Not Rhysand bouncing off the boundaries, then.   Lucien smiled that grin that showed fang. “You learned to winnow then? Good for you, little Fey.”   Knowing they’d had a friendship and seeing it were too very different things as Feyre clicked her teeth back, but smiled. “Could take you now in a fight, Lucien.”   Beyond the threshold, Rhysand and the bigger of the two warriors appeared from whisps of darkness. “Let’s see if we can agree to not fight more today,” He said mildly, tucking both hands in pockets.   With a familiarity that made Nesta’s brows go sharp, Feyre rolled her eyes, and danced though the doorway to seize them both. Tucking on arm through Rhysand’s amenably crooked elbow and grabbing the other male by the wrist, both let themselves be tugged into the room before Nesta and Elain.   Feyre had said she’d found friends, that she’d found a home. Velvet sliding over silk in the silent tension, Elain rose to her feet and held out a hand. A heartbeat later, Nesta joined her. A grateful smile flickered over Feyre’s face, not noticing neither of them had bothered to curtsey.   Elain was not bowing to the second man who’d spirited away her baby sister, no matter how damned powerful he was.   “These are my older sisters, Nesta and Elain Archeron,” Feyre said, “Meet Cassian, and Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court.”   Cassian took Elain’s hand with a gentleness that bordered on ridiculous, and Rhysand bowed over his own grip, “Please, call me Rhys.”   Nesta sat before Rhysand could offer her his hand, leaving Elain with so deep a desire to catch Lucien’s eyes and smirk and that she had to sit herself and focus on Feyre to hide it.   Before the youngest Archeron could open her mouth, the sitting room door swung open, silent, to reveal a ladies maid carrying a silver tray. Followed, Elain knew, by the footman who would have come up with her from the ground floor to open the door.   Smiling briskly, looking only at Elain and Nesta, she neatly set the tray on the low table before them. “Shall I pour, m’lady?”   The extra cups sat neatly grouped, the easy excuse that they were trying new extra varieties of tea from their father’s shipments manifest in the multiple small copper pots. More of an indulgence than either of them would have ordered normally- for all that their cook downstairs had harrumphed in her usually grouchy cheer and grumbled it was damn time those girls did something for themselves.   Nesta nodded, returned a small smile. She was pointedly not looking directly forward at their sister’s furrowed brow, or Rhysand, who’d dropped down in his own chair to lean back next to Feyre and watch.   “No, I can do it. Thank you, Eileen.”   She bobbed a half curtsey, none of them had been able to get her to stop carrying out, and looked over Elain’s shoulder. “My Lord, I didn’t see you there. If I may, while you’re all together, I’d like to thank you again for letting my Jaime help with the horses so young.”   “Nonsense,” Lucien said in his human voice- a little less deep, a little more jovial than his normal tone. It made Elain miss the sharp edges. “He’s a good lad. It’s no hardship for us to get the next generations farrier and him a horse to get down to school.”   “He’s very clever,” Nesta cut in, before Eileen could thank them again. “Please don’t hesitate to ask if he has need of anything else.”   Eileen’s second curtsey was deeper- she knew what Elain did, that in spare time she somehow found between secretly running the family business and handling any legal matters of the estate, not a single child on their lands had failed to benefit from Nesta’s generosity in some way.   She expected the warm hand on her shoulder, but it was an effort not to lean into. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Feyre stiffening. “You’ll find,” Lucien promised, thumb stroking over Elain’s velvet covered shoulder in visible affection, “That so long as you continue to take care of my Lady so well, you may ask whatever you want of me and this house.”   The second the door snicked shut, Feyre was back on her feet. “We’re not glamoured, what the hell was that?”   Nesta, already pouring cups of tea, held one out. “A curse,” She said flatly, “Sugar?”   Rhysand spoke over the noise of disbelief Feyre made, voice blank. “Your household servants are under a spell?” He took the cup she’d held out to Feyre.   With an equal level of dangerous impassiveness that tightened Luciens hand, still on Elain’s shoulder, Nesta stared back. “We keep all the people on our lands safe from faery intervention.”   Feyre didn’t let the staring contest go on long. “And you,” She rounded her attention on Lucien, standing behind Elain. That familiar anger on her face, even in those utterly fae lines, was exactly the same as it had always been. “You set yourself up as a Lord, Lucien? Get your Cauldron damned hands off my sister.”   Unhelpfully, Lucien laughed.   Unable to stop herself any longer, Elain exchanged a glance with Nesta, found her stony sister rolling her eyes in amusement. She bit into her own smile and tried to explain. “You know titled women can’t live alone, Fey. We needed a head of house.”   That Nesta, protective to the bone wasn’t saying anything was probably the only reason Feyre sat down, based on her scowl. “Father is head of house, Flaith Archeron. Where is he? I know ships in our name began sailing again.”   Nesta slammed down her cup. “That was me, actually.”   And she was doing a better job that their father or grandfather ever had, but that wasn’t what mattered to Feyre. “I don’t understand. Where is father?”   “Damned if we know,” Elain muttered, bitter enough that Lucien vaulted over the couch to land beside her, the sort of behavior that usually made her laugh. She didn’t miss that the High Lord tracked the motion. “Feyre, the second Tamlin delivered your payment-   “Blood money,” Nesta interrupted.   “Father left. He took enough gold to get to the continent, but no one has seen or heard from him since. We had to forge this decades re-swearing of vows to the crown, it wasn’t easy.” A small lie- her and Nesta both had been able to forge their fathers signature since they were children. They’d been reasonably sure that as the oldest of the next generation, Nesta’s blood would adhere to the seals just as well.   It was the same reason their main export and import business managed to continue. Acheron trade contracts were bound to the name, passing from father to son, twelve generations down. Faeries didn’t give a damn if Nesta was too female to inherit. Their father’s debts were paid, business could continue.   “We had word of a Lord Archeron, here,” Rhysand cut in smoothly.   Nesta rolled her eyes again, and pointed to Lucien beside her, “Lord Lysander Archeron.”   That her older sister had not- and would not- refer to it as a ruse was a boon that Elain hadn’t expected. Then again, Nesta was and had always been, her best friend. She wouldn’t admit the romantic line between Elain and Lucien was a lie, not while it was something Elain wished were true.   No matter how insane it was.   Feyre’s mouth was stuck in the shape of Archeron, disbelieving.   Rather than follow that string all the way down into Feyre’s disbelief that Elain could make any choice for herself, she turned her best hostess smile on the Illyrian warrior standing against the window. “Tea, Sir?”   His face was already healed. No apparent sign of pain or bruising, which made Elain wonder what exactly, had made that scar that draped a half moon through one brow.   Cassian sat, wings askew in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable, in the remaining chair. “Thank you, the oolong smells amazing.” The cup she passed him with a small smile was absurdly delicate in his hands. “Sir?”   “High ranking human soldiers are Sirs or Lords,” Elain told him, ignoring Nesta’s roiling frustration and the way Feyre was reacting to Lucien’s sharp edged grin.   To her utter surprise, Cassian laughed, the sound like honey. “Oh, I don’t have a title. Just Cassian is fine.” General doesn’t count as title? Elain thought. The head of Rhysand’s armies, it seemed, wasn’t high born.   Meanwhile, Rhysand had evidently had enough of the silent combativeness that could only exist between sisters. “It might be helpful if we started at the beginning.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees in a gesture of human relaxation that looked unnatural in his faery body. Was he faking it? Or was Lucien so keenly comfortable being other that Elain expected it of all fae? “Vanserra, you really think Tamlin has gone mad?”   From Feyre’s non-reaction, this was a possibility that had already been discussed.   Lucien made a low noise. “There’d been a touch of it since the War, but killing Amarantha destroyed him.”   Personally, Elain didn’t care about madness- she wanted the High Lord dead in the ground for nearly killing Lucien, for hurting Feyre.   Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “Since the War? Tamlin was a child then, he didn’t fight.”   But Lucien was already shaking his head. “He was grown when it ended, had met Amarantha in the days before Clythia was killed.”  The hand on her shoulder had slipped away, but Elain felt the weight of his gaze on her face. He’d told her this story before.   Elain looked up to find Feyre watching her. “Amarantha- she cursed him. Of course he wanted her dead.”   It was obviously hard for them even to speak her name: Amarantha. Elain only knew it from a story book, the tales of a faraway kingdom. Amarantha, the ever blooming flower. Red in the rainbow of her sisters. Sometimes, ever was translated instead as madly.   Not for the first time, she wondered if they could be one in the same.   Lucien’s full mouth- Elain chided herself from even looking at his lips- had twisted at Feyre’s words. “I hate Tamlin even more than you do, but he shouldn’t have been the one to kill her.”    Such acts were unfathomable to Lucien, and Elain knew it. Not killing, not fighting, but what Tamlin had done was a different atrocity altogether.   Rhysand frowned. “I wanted to rip out her spine myself, but stopping her was what mattered.”   Feyre didn’t know, Elain realized suddenly, watching the confused tension racket up. If Feyre didn’t know, there was no way Rhysand did.  She had no way to tell Lucien, rigid and closer to her than he’d been a second before. “I wouldn’t ask such a a thing of my worst enemy, but I can't say I’m surprised you would Rhysand.”   The falsely human repose evaporated as the High Lord sat up.   “What exactly are you accusing me of?” Like the stories whispered about him across the ocean, calling him the Nightmare Lord, Rhysand’s voice became soft before it was dangerous.   And just like that, Lucien's disgust melted into a rueful horror. Elain's hands ached. “You really don’t know. Not at all.” He looked at Feyre, something like an apology on his face.   “Tamlin and Amarantha were mates.” @breath-of-sindragosa @flxwer-petals @ladyvanserra @illyrianinterrasen @missanniewhimsy@tntwme@ourbooksuniverse @pitterpatterpot @thestarwhowishes @abillionlittlepieces @my-fan-side @the-eightofswords  @wonderland--memories @ourbooksuniverse @cohen-theeleven @

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Animal Instinct + Dead Disco | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

We’re back with another Moth Work update because ya girl has finished two chapters and is here to spill all the tea! If you missed update one, and two, be sure to check them out before reading this one! I’ve been having a bit of cabin fever with this project lately which has made it difficult to really immerse myself into the project. But we’re almost at the 20k mark of this project which is wILD! I never imagined writing so much of this story (which was initially just a guilty pleasure) and I’m happy with how much I’ve learned about my characters just through this small detour in the series.

The first chapter I’ll be updating on is chapter four, ANIMAL INSTINCT. 

This chapter was a giant pain to finish! It had about 5000 revisions mid-draft, and I definitely feel like I had blinkers on when writing it. Because of that, I lost sight of the big picture and really got stuck on the little things, like the writing and overall quality of the project. This was not actually the purpose of Moth Work--it was supposed to be a dumping ground for whatever. However, in this chapter, I became really hyperfocused on all the small details I disliked which made drafting it a month-long process. I’ve now come to a slightly healthier place with quality in this draft, and found a middle ground between trash-dumping and nitpicking. 

What’s it about?

Animal Instinct is a major point of tension for Lonan and Harrison as their goals deviate. This chapter focuses heavily on the volatility of their relationship and highlights Lonan’s current irrational mental state. The title stems from this idea of calculated action for the sake of a single person’s benefit. 

The writing bit: 

I struggled to write this chapter quite a bit. It took me the majority of July to complete because of a major logic problem I kept running into. After struggling for a few days, I finally realized by fleshing out what I’d written initially, I could overwrite the logic problem. The solution took a lot of work/test scenes to figure out, but eventually I got it!

Excerpts:

I shared this excerpt before because it’s one of the only paragraphs I don’t mind in this chapter! I think the flow is a lil funky but I dig the concept! This outlines the last bits of the cabin, specifically Harrison’s final check around the perimeter. 

Around the corner, the back patio is static—like Anna and her son never stopped sitting there. Her bowl of avocado and Greek yogurt—the holistic remedy Emily said would make her glow like an angel—sits gummy and pestered with flies. One of Milo’s toys is wedged under the cheap lawn chair. It haunts him, seeing them while not seeing them, but he leaves everything like it is. Anna and her son will always remain on the patio, Anna with her cheekbones splayed for the moon, Milo babbling mildly about his father like he hasn’t made the connection. They’ve gone invisible.  

After this first scene, Harrison does some driving in the dark which gives me major book three vibes lol, and eventually pulls into a motel somewhere in Nevada. This route from Oregon to Boston makes no sense but I conveniently needed Lonan to end up in Vegas, so!! do it for Vegas!!

In the motel, Harrison meets Jeremiah, his potential new man lol. Harrison is focused on getting in and out of there as quickly as possible, but he’s like dang mans teeth are the straightest I ever did see (me too tho). Because he gets distracted, he fails to notice his car turn off, and only makes the connection after passing it a few times in the parking lot. He minorly paniques as he looks for Lonan, but eventually finds him around the building. 

The scene that follows gets volatile as heck, and really showcases how similar Lonan and Reeve are? Like dang that whole family tho? (Can I join?)

I’m not going to share much of this scene because she gets dramatic, but this is the wildest dialogue I’ve written in a while and I think I’m going to steal it and make Reeve say it because something like this would come out of her mouth:

“Do you feel that, Harrison? I could burn you with a cigarette and call it a wolf bite and nobody would know the difference.” 

sounds normal at first then NOPE

The next chapter (chapter 5) is called Dead Disco:

This chapter came together very quickly because I’d had it basically planned out, however, it veered into an emotional direction I wasn’t expecting. This chapter was supposed to be fun and lighthearted, and it ended up being... not that??  

What’s it about?

After the tragic drama that occurs in the previous chapter, Harrison wakes up the next morning to notice that Lonan has #left and #taken the car. This is v/ not good, but instead of getting super worked up he chooses to chill out at Jeremiah’s place and chill ft. some disco. I meant for it to be cute but Harrison ends up in a mental place I wasn’t expecting, so the chapter feels a bit “derealized” to me. After both Lonan and Harrison head out on their solo endeavors, they meet back up and this encounter ends *badly*. 

Playlist:

July 31st Rachel was feeling very enthusiastic about the playlist for this chapter (I was writing while listening to music) and wrote down a list of songs that describe the progression of this chapter (in order + all Nothing But Thieves because predictable!):

Holding Out For A Hero

Crazy

Afterlife

Hanging

Excuse Me

Forever & Ever More

You Know Me Too Well

I’m Not Made By Design

Amsterdam

Number 13

Itch

Hostage

BUT SHOUTOUT TO: Disco by Surf Curse

Probably the most accurate vibe here lol

Excerpts:

This first excerpt is Harrison angsting hard about missing his friends. I don’t *love* her but I don’t *hate* her! I tried revising it but it... flopped, so here’s the failed revision:

Lonan could say those words and it haunts him, how easily he taints him like a bad omen. There are so many things Emily would tell him to do to cleanse the bad magic, but Harrison recalls none of them properly. He remembers words like moon, and black walnut, and quartz crystal, and cardamom, but can’t think of what to do with any. He wishes he were like Foster, curious enough to carry around a pocket dictionary, or like his mother, clever enough to make something up on a whim. All Harrison can do is bury his face in his palms outside the restaurant and hope no one watches him. The main road bustles by and he wishes to be invisible, like Anna and her son. He wants his friends back. Foster could lull him to consciousness with a quiz on the different kinds of plants, which are edible, which are poisonous. Reeve would split a cigarette with him and scare him back to life with her driving. Emily will never speak to him but at least she’d cast a curse on him, and even that’s better than his nullified state of living. It’s disorienting, to feel asleep while awake. Harrison blinks hard, but everything feels the same—the buildings all shimmering, the people staring barely even people, everything derealized like it’s all been coated in REM. 

(tag urself i’m foster’s pocket dictionary)

This next excerpt outlines Harrison getting turnt with his new man and then getting philosophical? drunk Harrison be Aristotle and Madonna smushed together idk

Harrison knows he shouldn’t drink around a stranger but Jeremiah’s got a handmade bracelet and scribbly tattoos on his forearm so it’s hard not to trust him. Photo prints of hostels in Japan, statues in Europe, cathedrals in Paraguay decorate the walls in perfectly cut rectangles. Each is plumed with a dried flower and it reminds Harrison so much of Emily, he has to look away, back to the Lonan-coloured drink. He studies the shot glass like it isn’t transparent, the grooves around the perimeter, the engraving that reads Cancun 1987. He loses Jeremiah’s absent swish around him, and gets lost in the blue. The trifecta amazes him, how a colour as unnatural as this has manifested in Lonan’s eyes, his earring, this drink. He tips the glass back and finishes it in one go, and even though it’s strong and should taste like artificial blueberries, his mouth is tasteless and numb.

“You live here alone?” Harrison asks, raking his fingers through his hair. The apartment overlooks the strip across the street and Harrison gets lost in it, the artificial signs like bad advertising, the neons ill like influenza. When he looks toward Jeremiah again, his glass is refilled and he has to think hard to remember if he emptied it in the first place. 

This is where Harrison manages to make disco big sad + some lowkey salt at Lonan which is always! a! win!:

Together, they move in a trance, limber and manic. The glass in Harrison’s hand isn’t a weight—it’s a lifeline. The apartment blurs, and waves in slow motion. Harrison doesn’t hear the music or taste the drink; he feels nothing in the ground, and everything in his tongue. His hair swims in his face like Lonan’s, moving like he did in the water, careless in his forehead, his eyes. The pictures on the wall become the pictures in his bedroom, and the blinking doesn’t get rid of them. In his sidesteps with Jeremiah he sees him, in the glass, across the street, under a streetlamp. Taking his cigarettes, his light, his car, his mouth like a cannibal. 

To end this update, here’s some dialogue ft. savagery:

“You’re patronizing me.”

“You’re patronizing yourself.” 

A meme to accompany this lol:

So that’s it for this update! At the time of drafting most of this post (which was a few weeks ago), I wasn’t really feeling this project, however, after writing chapter 6 and switching POVs into Lonan’s head (where there’s lots of messy stuff to work with), I’ve been having a lot of fun!

I’m sorry updates have been slow on this blog--I’m in the process of moving so I’m getting busy, however, I hope to post at least one more update before I go off to school! Thanks for reading. :)

--Rachel

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Unsustainable - (4/9)

!Disclaimer: I do NOT ship the people on the banner or any gifs showing up in the fanfic. They helped me visualize and are part of my writing experience. Much love for Tom Holland & Cody Christian!

Summary: An accident happened in which the reader has gotten powers. The reader is struggling to adjust to his new powers but also to keep them secret from Peter as they become closer.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Male Reader

Word count: 1994

A/N: This chapter more a less feels like a filler. Not really happy how it turned out.

The old wounds ache. Nightmares keep repeating themselves. They kept coming back and more frequent than ever before. In the middle of the night waking up, shirt soaking wet. That same scene over and over again. You couldn't shake it loose. It kept tormenting you during the long nights. Falling asleep was already a problem. So many questions left unanswered left you awake until late in the night. Twisting and turning in your bed. Not long into the night, you'd wake up sitting upright in bed. Sweating all over, bruised knuckles and a trembling body, full of adrenaline. Sleep deprived you'd arrive at school, no attempt to hide it from Peter. Why should you anyway? Occasionally you'd stay home. But the absences from school were noticed. You called in sick multiple times. It was waiting for school to take some sort of action. Meanwhile, MJ kept you up to date, she’d bring in new the homework. While keeping Peter distant. Afraid you let something slip.

 Every conversation you had with Peter kept you on your toes. Since the meeting in the park, you learned a lot. The Raven answered many questions. But the thought that Peter was possibly hiding something was unnerving. Weirdly enough, the Raven didn’t want to tell the truth. It wanted you to find it out on your own. You didn’t meet with Peter as often as before. At the start of the year, things looked good. You became closer to him than before. But now you wanted to keep him away from this. What would happen if he found out? Would he tell Stark? May invited you over for dinner, but you had to come up with all kinds of reasons to pass up. You were torn between feelings for Peter and him finding out your secret. One of the two actually. Your feelings for him was another. Just as hard to keep hidden. What was he onto? How did he find out? Did Mr. Stark help him? And what had Peter to hide? You snap out of your daydream as the bus comes to a halt.

 Peter was in doubt, the last weeks worked on his nerves. Being Spider-Man carried its own burdens but (Y/N) story was different. He fought the villain Vulture, captured bank robbers, stopped bicycle thieves and help the elderly cross the street. This was different. This felt different. This was personal. Peter wasn’t a detective, but his Spidey senses were tingling ever since (Y/N) returned from summer vacation. His heightened senses helped him read a person much better. And if there is one thing he can trust it’s his Spidey senses. (Y/N) was hiding something. In the spur of the moment, he asked Mr. Stark for help. That was only once. But in the heat of the moment, he let that slip. Thinking back to that very moment, he keeps reassuring himself that was the best course of action. He couldn’t forgive himself if (Y/N) got hurt. Peter was panicking back then. Now, he was ashamed of his actions. Peter felt the cringe consume him, remembering how (Y/N) reacted. (Y/N) was furious. Understandable, as someone who goes on a regular holiday and then hears afterward that he was tracked by Tony Stark's supercomputers. But by all means, Peter was convinced this wasn't a ‘normal holiday.’ Peter knew that (Y/N) was lying then. Peter wanted to scream it. (Y/N) heartbeat had betrayed him. Peter thoughts ran wild. He kept pondering over the same questions. Could he contain his nerves? Why would (Y/N) keep lying? He swallowed the lump in his throat, his hands feeling sweaty in his pockets. His fingers playing with his house keys. He jogs up the main stairs of the Avengers Tower leading up to the lobby. Out of nowhere, Miss Potts surprises Peter. “Peter, are you alright? You look nervous.”

 “H-Hi… Miss Potts. I-I’m alright. I’m looking for Mr. Stark.”

 “I believe he’s in his lab, floor 54.”

 Peter nods as he sidesteps Miss Potts, quickly heading for the elevator. The steel elevator doors wore the Avengers symbol perfectly in the middle. As the doors slid open to the side, the large glass back panel gave sight onto the inner courtyard of the Avengers tower. A peaceful garden surrounded by a flow of water originating from a small waterfall at the back. Peter leaned forward crossing his arms as he lays them on the railing. The elevator rocketed upwards, Peter stared outside as the peaceful garden make way for skyscrapers and office buildings. The sun carefully covered by a thick layer of clouds. Drops of rain start falling onto the side of the elevator. Only adding to Peter's sad state of mind. Peter stared into the grey sky as he thought of all the inconsistencies (Y/N) had shown. Was he right? Did he see it the right way? The sound of the elevator reaching the floor helped Peter out of his endless gaze. He turned into the hallway leading onto Mr. Stark's lab. There was a certain calmness in the air as he walked down the hall, no employees, no Iron Man suits, just some planters and chairs, and rain hitting the window. Peter held his ground, one hand on the door as he tried to listen to sounds coming from the lab. But also wondering if he did the right thing. From the corner of his eye socket, he noticed a shape. Before he could look, the shape resembling a bird of some sort flew off down towards the city. Whatever. Peter pushed open the door leading into the lab. The lab was a large spacious room. Workbenches lay in the center with large screens hanging from the ceiling. Armory stations lined the walls which housed all different kind of versions of Iron Man armor.  Like usual parts were scattered all along the floor, heaps of technical devices lay against workbenches. Containers of screws, wires and circuit boards were stacked upon each other, begging to be pushed over soon or later. From the center of the room, the sound of repairs was heard. Sparks and sounds of hydraulics could be heard. Peter carefully moved passed the heaps of metal and parts. Careful not to damage anything. Mr. Starks sat on a small trolley working on a suit of armor, reconnecting and replacing parts. Nearby machines were busy rewiring and pressing pieces of steels. Peter looked on in silence.

“M-Mr. Stark?”

 “G-! Holy! Mother of smol beans!” Tony darts right up from his work. ”Pete! You scared the bejesus outta me.” Hitting his suit with the tool, creating sparks all over.

 “S-So sorry Mr. Stark. I-I…I just wanna discuss something with you.”

 "Let me guess, you destroyed the suit. No, wait…! Aunt May. She finally agreed to get some dinner?"

 “What? No, not at all. I-I… mean it’s just…”

 "Spit it out, kid. The world isn't going to save itself."

 “It’s personal sir…”

 “Oh dear, you met a girl, had a few too many drinks and now you may or may not have a child with her?”

 “Please mister Stark, something is wrong with (Y/N). And I need your help…”

 “I’ve heard that before Peter…”

 “This is different! It’s so frustrating sir! Every day I see him struggling. I-I… just feel it... He is distant, rarely comes over, we barely spend time together, we don't do sleepovers anymore. He gets sick often, has random nosebleeds, suddenly started writing with his right arm. While he's always left-handed! And strange birds suddenly show up. Something is going on with raven’s sir. It all doesn’t add up. It’s tearing me up from inside! I need answers, sir. Please…"  

 “Wow, you really got worked up about it kiddo…”

 “At first, I was really hesitant to ask for your help again. I couldn’t sleep for days. It… It just kept circling in my mind. I’m just really fed up about it. I just can’t seem to connect the dots, not on my own sir…”

 "Let me draw you the first line, Peter. You care about (Y/N). More than you afraid to admit. I see it in you. You have that same fire in your eyes.”

 “No… he’s j-just…”

 “Pepper had that look too.”

“That-“

 “Listen, you don’t have to admit it to me. Start following him, find out what he does outside of school. Find out what breaks his routine. Protect him from what you think is haunting him. Be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Look out for the little guy. But don't let your emotions get the best of you.”

 “But how are you-“

 “Shush! Now go, Peter! Let me know what you find out. I have something in mind.”

 Starks shifting attention let Peter standing, gazing into nothingness. With legs like stone, armpits like waterfalls, shaky hands and a knot in his stomach he was frozen to the spot. Zoned out from all the noise happening around. That sudden realization hit home harder than expected. He had battled those feelings before. Unsure what it all meant. His body told him the signs, showed it. He felt it. Time and time again. Every time you were around, or close to him. Even getting a look from you, his body told him. Peter’s body had ached for it. Begged for it. And Starks words hit the nail on the head. The signs became ever more apparent in the months while you were gone. Peter was afraid to admit it. The months you were gone were bland, boring and empty. His mind had wondered day in day out, unable to focus on anything. Expecting you to show up around every corner. Those days were long and tiresome. There wasn't something or someone who could fill that gap, that emptiness. That loneliness. Except for you. Now he knew. Now he felt it. Peter had feelings for you.

  From the bus on you take the usual path down the docks towards the warehouses. During the day the warehouses didn’t have that creep factor. Although the presence of seagulls and some stray cats, and of course the Raven, pretty much nothing happened here. At night the empty parking lots and abandoned warehouses were a different story. Turning down the small passageways, you eventually end up at the shack. Checking your surroundings, you move inwards. The old shack was connected to a larger warehouse. The two walls facing the warehouse were lined with small square windows. A couple of old desks, broken chairs, and file cabinets littered the place. Connecting the battery in the corner sprung on the old desk light. Filling the room with a slight buzzing sound as the old light bulb warmed up and lit the desk up. Taking place on the desk chair, you reach behind the drawer with one hand. Your fingers searching for the mechanism. A clicking sound pushes the bottom drawer open, revealing the folder. As you roll your eyes over the text, in the corner of your eye, you see a familiar figure emerging in the doorway. “Hello (Y/N)…” said the older man. “Hey Matthias, how’s Boris doing?” You reply without losing sight of the papers. “He’s getting old, as we all do…” Matthias limps across the room, taking place on the old chair in between the file cabinets. The old wooden chair creeks under the weight. “You look troubled (Y/N). Something bothering you?” You knew it would be for the best to share everything you knew and experienced. For the sake of yourself and him. “You know the master is doing this to help you?” Matthias pressed on. But should you tell about Peter? “Something happened earlier this week… An eh… raven appeared before me. Shares the same fate as me. Somehow I have a connection with it…" You explain while searching for the little apparatus in your backpack. “He will figure this out. Don’t worry. For now, read the papers and start your training. You need time to regain your strength before returning home.”

 A/N: Originally I had a plan for Matthias & Boris but since I haven’t found a way to keep the story going after chapter 9. You may forget about them.

[a-robin-among-thorns]

In The Shadows of the Rising Sun: Chp 8

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 

My apologies for the long delay hopefully this extra long chapter makes up for it :)

Chapter 8: Sticks and Stones

Word Count: 2,677

“Are you sure you’ll be fine there?”

“There will be no small children?”

“No, they don’t have school for another hour.”

“Then I will be fine.”

A slow deep breath expanded Chise’s chest and stomach before puffing out her mouth. The air taking with it the last of her nerves that she would acknowledge. No more stalling.

The cold brass knob filled her palm and slowly turned, opening to the outdoor world. A red mop of hair poked out looking to and fro before cautiously stepping out and locking the door behind her with a clink. Her footsteps reverberated against the concrete of the inner complex building. Tennis shoes clanged against the metal steps and before she knew it the apartment was long behind her.  

The early sun peaked over mountains and spilled across the concrete and if she concentrated on remote corners she could see them. Formless creatures and colorful demons alike stood just on the edge of alleys and buildings but not daring a step near. Mist spilled from their maws as they glowered at her openly. Their noses crinkled and fell downward where a dull pair of red lights glowed amongst her shadow.

“Relax Chise,” she almost yelped at his muted voice somehow delivered directly to her ear, “nothing will hurt you while I am here.” As if to illustrate his point, a lanky fox-faced demon huffed in defeat before spinning on its heels back into the trenches from whence it came. She sighed through her nose. “You’re right.”

Chise had almost considered letting Elias reside at home while she attended school but the notion was vehemently rejected. She had worried that Elias would have been put out by being forced to reside in her shadow while she attended her daily sentence of obligatory schooling. Yet he resigned to his place beneath her soles diligently with nary a complaint. If he had been put out by anything it was the oven clock shrieking at them to awaken earlier than noon.

More and more creatures peeled away as they came to realize she was no longer an easy target, and to her surprise, the walk to school became almost...pleasant. The tense lines in her shoulders eased and her feet slowed to an almost leisurely pace. How strange it was to walk down the streets with no fear of monsters thanks to the liquid darkness pooled at her feet trailing each step.

Despite the late winter cool still permeating the air, the sun felt warmer and more inviting than she could ever place before. She knew the stretch from the apartment to school like the back of her hand. Every escape route and hiding place was like an old friend. But she found herself noticing small details, colorful designs in store windows, flowers poking through the cement or sweet scents surrounding cafes, that she had always been too busy to notice before. Had it always been this way? Had her newfound security colored everything in a different light? Or was she finally moving slow enough to see it all?

However, her new found calm and quiet has a very noticeable setback that becomes obvious as soon as they entered the schoolyard parameter.

Her whispering classmates, although irritating, were often easy to ignore in the face of more pressing dangers. At least when they weren’t taking time out to yank out her hair or push her down the stairs. But these eyes wouldn’t care if her shadow was thicker than normal and would gladly glare at her with disdain.

She entered her homeroom building and her stomach dropped as she saw that the hall was not empty. Normally she tended to arrive a bit late and students would already be on the move to class. The bell was yet to ring and students were nestled here and there in the halls eyeing her with disgust or avoiding eye contact altogether. A group of girls resembling ravens in their shiny black hair and congregating in their little nest chittered amongst themselves in Japanese.  

“Would you look at that, the gaijin is actually on time.” Sneered a girl wearing a pink hair clip.

“Two days in a row must be a new record.” Her tall friend replied.

A short mousy girl chirped in with a scoff, “Thank god we’re not in D class huh?”

“No kidding, she smells like a first aid kid someone left in the rain.” Pink clip said disdainfully.

Mousy girl rose a brow, “How would you know that?”

“Please, she reeks from a block away.”

“I once had to deliver a message from my teacher to her class” the tall gal began with an air of authority, “and the freak just sat there squirming and out of nowhere started kicking the desk so hard she made herself bleed. It was horrific.”

Chise tightened her grip on her bag and sped down the hallway. Distantly she noted her shadow bristling along the edges. She made a B line for homeroom and sat down heavily despite the classroom’s emptiness. Hot shame boiled within her, threatening to spill over her eyes and throat. She shuddered. The day had only just begun and she already felt exhausted.

“...Chise” Elias’ voice was just barely a whisper “are you ok?” Closing her eyes with a sigh she answered in whispered English, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Wearily, she rested her cheek in her right hand letting her left drift off the edge of her desk. A faint feeling of weight, like a thin mist curled in the space of her palm. Reflexively she curled her fingers inward.  

Students began filling in the class just before the bell rung. Chattering rang throughout the walls but she could take solace in the fact that she would no longer be the primary focus. Once the teacher was seated and speaking the gossip quieted down. A few fringe mentions of her name or reputation sounded quietly as class continued but Chise took to focusing on the feeling in her palm rather than the chittering in her ears. Soon enough she found herself able to tune it out well enough to actually focus on class for once. Come third period she found herself reminded of how much she actually did enjoy literature. The feeling of being transported by the story of a book. Forgetting the daily matters that troubled her.  

Lunch came around and after receiving her tray instead of returning to the class Chise sidestepped in the hallway and slipped outside. With hurried steps, she found a secluded blind spot from the school cameras in the shade of a cedar tree. Looking both ways she settled against the tree and ran her fingers through her shadow. Black wisps sifted through her fingers like sand as Elias formed before her sitting criss-cross.     

A weight she had been unaware of lifted from her chest. “How are you doing?” she asked as she halved her sandwich and handed it to him. Elias accepted it and answered, “I’m fine, although I do wish I understood what the people around me were saying.”

“Hmm,” she muttered around a mouthful of rice, “You could borrow my dictionary if you think that’d help.”

He nodded, “It can’t hurt.” he swallowed his sandwich before setting his hand on his knees and regarding Chise solemnly. Something was weighing on his mind. “Chise, many of the students...they were talking while they looked at you, why is that?”

She pursed her lips, considering his question, “They...most of them don’t like me." She admitted in a defeated tone. “They think I’m weird and creepy.”

At this, his eyes narrowed. “Why would they think that?” He sounded completely perplexed.

“Well, most humans can’t see the neighbors when they’re attacking me. So people think I’m freaking out for no reason or that I just want attention. It causes a lot of problems…” Chise was perfectly aware of how difficult it was to deal with her outbursts. Especially when no one else had any idea how to change anything.

That did nothing to make it easier.

Save for a low humming, Elias was silent for a long minute. “I suppose I can see why they may think that.” Chise cast her eyes downward and spooned more rice into her mouth, her teeth clenching much too hard. This was something she knew and accepted, but out of his mouth, it stung. She swallowed roughly.

“But,” She stiffened as her jaw was suddenly cupped between his warm large fingers and gently tilted upwards to meet his eyes directly. “They are wrong.” His eyes were intense, staring directly past the walls she kept erected around herself. “If they knew even a fraction of the world you know every day, they would be much quicker to bite their tongues.” Despite the strength in his voice, she could just barely hear something underneath it. Something pained.

They stayed locked in each other's gaze, neither knowing what to say further. Chise’s heart thumped in her ears as she stared into his piercing eyes, ruminating on his words. Part of her felt exposed, frightened that he had gotten past her walls just like that. But more than that, hearing his declaration of validity to the struggles she faced daily, made her happy.

Finally, she nodded and he released his grip. They continued their meal in an awkward silence.

Chise slipped back in the classroom just before recess began and grabbed the wet wipes to begin cleaning off the desks. The teachers didn’t usually mind if she didn’t eat in the classroom with the rest of the class. But they would get huffy if she didn’t help clean up the classroom as that would be unfair to the other students. If she started early she’d be out of the way as much as possible and no one could complain.

She had just finished her third desk when students began putting away their trash and getting their respective cleaning supplies. Desk number four had just been polished enough to see her reflection and she lifted the desk gingerly to place it with the others against the wall.

“Ah!” She yelled as something whacked against her ankles knocking her feet from under her. Two thuds sounded as her hip collided with the floor followed shortly by the desk barely missing her arm. The entire right side of her body ached as she looked up where a burly sandy-haired boy walked away from where she had been standing. Looking over his shoulder, he sneered and rotated his broom so the handle was no longer pointed to the ground. Of course, the teacher hadn’t seen. Or heard.

With a grimace, she placed her hands on the ground to push herself back up when she felt a bristling sensation beneath her palms. A yelp rang out through the room as the boy jumped, dropping the broom. He fell to his knee, prying his pant leg over his ankle where a thin score of blood ran. “Sensei, I need to go to the nurse's office.” He said beginning to look pale. The teacher relented as the boy and the teacher's aid trotted down the hall like a wounded puppy.

Throughout the entire exchange, Chise was still as a statue. She had a strong suspicion that a certain someone beneath her feet was responsible for the boy’s sudden trip to the nurse. In the back of her mind, she knew she would need to chastise him for this. But she could hardly deny that there was something oddly cathartic about someone bullying her actually receiving a slap on the wrist, or ankle, for once. She allowed herself a private grin as she stood with her back to the class, corrected the desk that had been knocked askew and continued her cleaning.

Once recess was finished class resumed without any interruptions. Chise absently heard some whispering about poor Touma going to the nurse after the gaijin looked at him. But she once again focused on the warmth in her palm.

Last period finally rolled around as the teacher rotated for the final class of the day. As he sat down students began digging through their bags and fishing out white sheets dotted with algebra.

Chise’s heart sank to her stomach.

She had completely forgotten about the assignment over the weekend. She couldn’t even remember if she had written the assigned questions in her blind determination to fill her translation sheet Friday. Her grades were atrocious so it wasn’t like the blow would particularly dent her standing. But if she didn’t turn anything in...if they called Reina… Her hands fidgeted desperate for any corrective action.

Should she write something down and hand in a dud? No, the teacher had already sat down, she could never write enough in time. Ultimately, she stayed seated, forcing her hands still and desperately praying that the professor wouldn’t notice her sheet hadn’t been turned in.

The hour dragged on painfully as Chise focused to the best of her panicked ability. Maybe if she did better on tonight’s homework, the teacher would overlook her grievance today. Elias must have sensed her agitation as halfway through the class the mist coiled more completely around her palm and forearm. She clasped back in response.

When the bell finally rung she packed up as calmly as she could and made for the door.

“Hatori-san?”

Ice ran through her veins as she cautiously faced her teacher. “A word please?”

She gulped and nodded, slowly making her way to his desk. He waited until most of the student’s had exited into the hall before addressing her with a tired look on his face.

“I take it you did not complete the weekend homework.”

“N-no, sir.”  She answered timidly.

“Is there anything particular reason why?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “If there is a problem at home we can see-“

“No! There isn’t!” She blurted much too quickly. “I-i mean, it was my birthday Saturday and we went out to eat. I meant to do it Sunday but there was a huge storm and we had a power outage and I forgot.” It was close to the truth. Close enough. “I really like this home I just forgot with everything thing going on.”

Mr. Ito didn’t look entirely convinced but he sighed, clearly desiring to end the conversation quickly. “Alright then Hatori-san, but I want it first thing tomorrow along with tonight’s homework.”

“Um, sir may I have the assignment number again just so I know I have it correct?”

He rose a brow suspiciously but decided it not worth the argument and scribbled a list of numbers on a sticky note. He held the note out between his thumb and forefinger. “I hope you understand you will only receive partial credit for late work.”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.” She accepted the paper with a slight bow and hastily made her way out of the class. Her heart still raced from how close she had been to sending a call to Reina, but she slowly felt the painful thrumming in her limbs reside as she trotted down the hall.

As she neared the stairs, she slowed her pace and lingered to the handrail.

Adjacent to the corner of the stairs was a door she was very familiar with. It led to a more secluded path to the school roof, a metal rung ladder. She had taken the path several times and spent many days and evenings there...sightseeing from the roof. Days like today, full of whispering and incidents, often led her there. Always so tempted to follow in her footsteps.

Her fingers unpeeled from the metal railing and she took small steps toward the door. Slowly, she reached for the handle, fingers outstretched. Her fingers twitched as she stood an inch from the door. She peered downward and just caught the outline of thorns and afterimage of a red glow.

She closed her fist and sighed, allowing herself a private smile as she turned for the stairs. “Let’s go home.”

[hotarutranslations]

Juice=Juice’s Uemura Akari “20 Questions 20 Answers” Haro Puro Love Talk!

In 2018, we’re having a celebration of the Hello! Project 20th Anniversary (Hello Love). For the members who belong to Hello! Project, their thoughts on the 20thanniversary activities and enthusiasm for 2018, thoughts of an everyday idol, we had a passionate “20 questions 20 answers” talk~ This time its Juice=Juice’s Uemura Akari!!

Uemura Akari = Born December 30th 1998, 19 years old. From Osaka. Blood Type O.

Q1: Tell us the meaning of your name!

At school my mother heard the name on an announcement. I was told there were about 3 others and from those I chose it (laughs). My mother was really vague and it had the feeling it was just “Eh? It was that after all?”. After discussing it was “so she can follow a bright road” was decided.

Q2: What senior do you admire?

Former Morning Musume’s Sayashi Riho-san. We were together when we took the 9th generation auditions, during that I failed but up until Sayashi-san went to the training camp I did my best to see her and absolutely cheer her on. I was really charmed by her aggression, and that she is a bit of a clumsy person. We’re the same age but, she has that kind of gap. When she is aggressive on stage and off stage I think Sayashi-san’s gap is amazing, seeing it is healing.

Q3: Who would you want to be reborn as?

Angerme’s Murota Mizuki-chan. Murota and I are on the same wavelength but, her intuition and things are completely different. Since she tells me ideas and opinions I don’t have, wouldn’t it be like I had those opinions originally? Since she is a positive human, I’d also be happy with that.

Q4: What are you the best at in Hello! Project?

Since I really love dogs, dog knowledge. I’ve memorized breeds, and I admire groomers, so things that you should pay attention to and not give (dogs) is what I most know about . I think there are certainly a lot of people though (that know about dogs).

Q5: Tell us something amazing about Hello! Project!

Since the material is really good, in that way I think “where ever you’re going take care!”. Even with whoever is going on variety, there are a ton of interesting personalities. I think the dancing is also athletic-like. We don’t feel embarrassed to put it out no matter where we are, I want to value those things!

Q6: Who would you want to be in a Hello! Project special unit with?

Murota (Mizuki), you know. I got to appear in Murota’s birthday event, There are many things I want to do as the 2 of us so if we were able to realize that it would be fun.

Q7: Tell us a Juice=Juice song you like!

I recently felt an affinity towards “Umaretate no Baby Love”. Those who composed this song were my parents friends. When I heard “they provided a song” I became really happy like “Oh!”; my mom was also pleased with it.

Q8: Tell us a Hello! Project song you like.

A memorable song for me, one I sang when I took the 9th generation audition, Morning Musume-san’s “Seishun Collection”. I think it’s the first song I properly memorized so, it’s a precious song. I was crazy nervous at the audition. My aunt encouraged me to audition and, that aunt had learned dance; she seriously taught me dance with her utmost effort. I really remember that.

Q9: Whats the difference between current and previous Hello! Project?

There have been cool formation dances accumulating from Morning Musume-san and it has come to be like the beats are in 16-beat. Before it was normal to take a sidestepping rhythm I think, but recently the foundation of that is rising, it’s fun to see. Also, I’ve noticed there are gradually newer challenges and difficult challenges, I think that is something different.

Q10: Other than yourself, who would you recommend as an oshi?

Murota Mizuki. Wherever she is, she is really perfectly agile. I think that’s really nice as you won’t forget her always smiling. She is always positive! Since you won’t see her being negative, I want you to see her; whether she is talking or performing you can receive her energy.

Q11: What do you want us to see most from yourself?

I want you to see the unchanged Uemura that’s in charge of long hair previously and presently.

Q12: What is work you would like to challenge?

When I did gravure work after a long time, I thought the photoshoot was fun after all. Being able to do magazine shoots makes me really happy so, from now on I want to do my best. It seems that the result is different by cameraman-san, the atmosphere and moment are being taken one by one, I think it’s fun to make memories within that.

Q13: What do you want us to see from Juice=Juice?

It’s also this way with lives but, everyone is also doing it with radio, I want you to see our individual activities of recent. Kanazawa Tomoko-chan is doing the radio “Bakunai~BAKUNAI”, Miyamoto Karin-chan was on “HELLO! DRIVE -haro dora-“, Inaba Manaka-chan has also appeared on TV. Since everyone has been doing a lot of activities on their own well, I want you to see that!

Q14: What will you be doing in 20 years?

I think I’d like to meet the members. I don’t think it would be like the environment now where we can meet every day but, like if Yana-chan (Yanagawa Nanami) was living a happy life, I’d want hear everyone’s report on their present condition. Since now we can see each other every day, I’d like to also have the presence of being like a family after 20 years.

Q15: Since it’s the 20th anniversary, tell us a secret!

It’s a bit in the future for Murota Mizuki-chan but, we’ve said we’d like to live near each other. Really we’ve said that being roommates would be fine but, there seems to be problems with it (laughs). Like next door, I’d want to live really close to her. It’s under development!

Q16: What do you want to be able to do after the 20th anniversary?

Since I’ll turn 20, I think it’d be nice to be a bit more adult-like mentally. More than at 19 when I become 20 there is always the image of becoming an adult, I’ve been thinking of what I’ve wanted to do when I become 20 myself. Not just depending on my mom, doing things for myself by myself, I want to become an independent woman. It’s a life of cooking for myself, so whenever there is something I’ve done, my mom will check it. I want to be able to do things around me myself, I want to gradually make decisions on my own.

Q17: What would you do if you weren’t an idol?

I really love animals! I like dogs so, since 4th grade I’ve wanted to get a job with dogs. With that I really admired groomer-san’s. Since they’re always touching the dogs, I thought it would be nice, I always say that I wanted to be a groomer.

Q18: What are you most into right now?

Watching videos of dogs and babies. Aren’t dogs and babies really cute? Watching a video of them is really healing. Seeing a dog look after a baby, babies looking after a dog, puppies playing with babies, there are a lot of variations. They’re healing!

Q19: Who do you get along with in Hello! Project? Tell us a recent episode!

Its Angerme’s Murota but, with that, since we are friends with each other, I’ll say it immediately if I want to go eat dinner somewhere. Recently we’ve also gone to various places but, mainly its eating. We both like tapioca shops, it’s like I’ll drink it every day. Since recently Angerme went on an overseas tour, I said “I like these things” about chocolate and face masks and she brought them back as souvenirs! She brought me back a souvenir from each place, I’m thankful for it. Everything was just like “That, that! You know me well!”. When I also went on an overseas tour, I bought Murota some cups and gave them to her, so it’s like that. It’s fun.

Q20: What is an idol to you?

They’re able to challenge whatever genre. Doing lives, I think its a job where you are able to challenge things that you aren’t able to do normally. We get a lot of chances so, I’m thankful for it.

https://thetv.jp/news/detail/157650/

[dramaplustautology]

Buried Under the Aching Tree Part 2/???

Summary: Ash learns about his friend’s sword, a relic passed through a million hands but never through a family. That and what it’s like to be possessed by a single feeling.

Here’s part 1: LINK

So, this became way longer than two parts and way more complicated. This one’s also way shorter than the last part cause the rise and fall fit more when I cut them up like this. Yeah, it’s going to be all moved to my writing blog too. Probably shouldn’t have left this sitting for...over a year.

Coming back from a rare fifteen minute break, Artix returned to the Amityvale Cemetery, finding it packed to the gills with necromancers.

Their hushed rabble fell silent. The few that didn’t slink behind gravestone to hide merely stared at the paladin they collectively loathed.

Artix did not sense any sort of animosity, however, reading an air of unease that felt more like he had walked in on teenagers gossiping about him.

“Hello there fellas.” Artix greeted, raising a hand. “What are you all up to?”

“Grieving,” One of the more morose figures spoke up, draped over the shoulder of a mourning hooded woman. A requirement to practice the magic of raising the dead was being dramatic after all. “We’re here to mourn our dignity.”

That was sort of cemetery business.

Artix felt like he should say something. Perhaps charge at them like the whole paladin-necromancer dynamic demanded.

It was just that, if the necromancers weren’t pacing aimlessly or crouching, they were laying on the ground, groaning. The misery was so thick, he could stick his tongue out and taste the salt.  

“I’ll be, uh, right back.” Artix nodded, starting to back out of the gate. Maybe giving himself a running start would rouse them?

“No!” A bunch of them screamed, jumping to attention. One of the undead necromancers throat had blown open from the force of his shout. The necromancer who had been dangling from the statue dropped on the ground and wormed, not crawled, his way to grip Artix’ ankle. “You have to stay. Who knows what we might do? J-just stay here!”

Seeing the necromancer up close, Artix’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh! I remember you! From the Necropolis.”

Panicking, the necromancer buried his face into the dirt but not because of Artix.

“Hey there!”

Now that was a voice that could get his spirits up. Artix turned, smiling easily at the young up and coming hero.

“Ash, what are you doing so far from Falconreach?” The paladin asked, getting a face full of fluffy blue shiver. Startled, Artix removed the attacker by his scruff, realizing he was dangling Zorbak at arm’s length.  

The fluffy necromancer said nothing. Not even a simple “meh.” Zorbak stared back at Artix, beady black eyes huge and quivering.

“I see that Zorbak was up to no good,” Artix threw out an assumption, if only to break what was beginning to be a very awkward silence. “What happened? I wouldn’t have thought you’d chase Zorbak all the way from Falconreach to here.”

What happened indeed.

There was something weird about this. Maybe it was how Ash had decided to go to Doomwood on his own when he’d usually get help. Or perhaps it had something to do with all the necromancers beginning to panic at the sight of a budding leaf of an adventurer.

Ash sure felt taller too. He hadn’t grown an inch since Artix last saw him but with a shiny silver sword he was tapping on his palm, the kid looked ten feet tall.

And that shiny silver sword was very loud.

“Oh, you know. I had this kind of thought that pumped me up the other day. I should be out there more, doing what all heroes should. Defend the innocent, eventually save a princess, and teach the bad guys a last lesson,” Ash shrugged off the sinister connotation of that last bit. “But boy am I glad to see you! I ran into all these other necromancers along the way and we can’t leave them alone, right? I put down a few but the rest ran away here! Thanks for blocking them off.”

“No problem,” Artix nodded, resting his hands on his hips with Zorbak still held firmly by the fur. He would have mistook Zorbak for an armadillo that lost its armor with how hard he curled himself into a ball. “Here, handle Zorbak for me and I’ll take care of the rest!”

“And I’ll be right behind you when I’m finished.” Ash nodded back.

“What?” Zorbak shouted just before Artix tossed the blue sphere over to Ash.

Swinging his sword so quickly that he splattered Artix’s armor, Ash cleaved the mana potion in half. The perfectly equal sides of the glass flask fell on the soft dirt. Ash gazed glumly at the leaking liquid.

“Did I just get pranked?”

“Well, I don’t feel like laughing.” Artix said, gently tossing Zorbak behind him. He scurried off, joining the other necromancers fled to into the rows of graves. Ash peeked over the paladin’s shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be going after him?” Ash asked, brow crumpled in genuine surprise. “I thought paladins were supposed to battle the undead.”

“That’s true! I’ve been at it for a while but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep learning. Recently, I learned that instead of bashing whatever’s closest, going by priority might work better.” Artix drew his sword, leveling its point at Ash. The hurt on the his face made the paladin falter.

“But, I’m not doing anything bad!” Ash’s voice was strained, like he didn’t quite believe it himself.

“Not you. That,” Artix gestured to the sword. It looked familiar but the paladin couldn’t focus on why that was right now. “I don’t know if I’ve told you before Ash, but I can sense the presence of the dead. The voices in the skeletons cry out to be freed but that sword, it’s screaming so much, I can barely hear you,” He swallowed. “I bet you can barely hear me.”

“Then, I’ll take them away,” Ash twirled the sword, letting its whistle meld with his, or its, words. “After every single necromancer in these woods are grinded into dust, we’ll move on to the Sandsea.”

Instinctively, Artix knew how to battle every kind of undead and spirit that came his way, even when it was wearing his friend.

Especially when it was wearing his friend.

Being so new at combat, Ash projected his next action clear for Artix to see. Combined with whatever the sword possessing him was doing, one step forward had become one bound that would have crossed twenty feet.

Artix jumped in front of him, clashing swords with Ash and turned that bound into a slide that drew a deep divot in the ground.

He had caught the silver sword under his own swing, meaning to keep it down so he could headbutt Ash into a quick nap. But, the boy pushed against the deadlock with enough strength to force Artix’s ankles against the mound of dirt they had created.

Shifting his footing to keep his balance, Artix had shifted his concentration for half a second and that let Ash spin on his heel. The silver sword escaped from the deadlock, swinging around to slash at Artix’s neck.

Arching his back, Artix felt the sword nick his chin, managing to bat it away with a diagonal slice of his own blade.

That was where all technicality ended.

Ash’s new style was aggressive, slashing and stabbing with no room to cover his openings. It left Artix to throw off the wild attack, unable to strike back with every chance he got potentially being fatal for his friend.

Sidestepping the gravestones, the paladin attempted to disarm Ash, aiming for the hilt and hoping he wouldn’t take off fingers. Normally, Ash could do that to himself easy but this time, it was like his fingers had melded to the steel.

Ignoring the bruising from Artix’s sword bunting his knuckles, Ash had jabbed the silver blade into the leg of a statue.  

“I knew it.” Ash panted, wrenching the sword out of the crumbling stone. Sweat was beading on the back of his neck, unused to moving this much in a fight.

To Artix’s confusion, Ash’s slumped shoulders and ragged breathing ceased. He stood to attention, tapping the silver blade on his palm again. The glint in the steel went from twinkling to thrumming with red energy.

“You’re not who I thought you were either.”

Before Artix could ask what in the world Ash was talking about, the hilt of the sword slammed into his chest. His chestplating crumpled like paper as he and Ash flew over the cemetery, creating a crater in the empty graves.

“But that’s fine,” Ash’s tone lowered to an almost easy going tone as Artix struggled to breath, pinned by the sword. Ash’s smile was deprived of the haunting malice forcing him to do this. “I know you mean well so why not stargaze for a while? I’ll take care of everything.”    

Then, Artix stopped pretending to choke.

He was relieved that there was enough of Ash in there to pull his punches too.

“Same here, buddy!” Artix grinned, closing his gauntlet over the blade.

Panicking, Ash tried to tear the sword out of his grip. Artix’s hand bled but he refused to budge.

“Sure hope the rest can’t hide like you can, but starting today, you won’t be one of them!” Artix grinned at the blade biting into his palm.

A brilliant light spread from Artix’s fingers, cascading over the cursed sword until it was obscured in the blinding gleam. It shone like the sun was rising in Doomwood for the first time in centuries.

“How come you don’t recognize me?” Ash asked.

The light went out, swallowed by the sword and the cemetery was darker than when it had first arrived. Artix gaped at the etchings on the short sword; one he’d handled months ago.

“Typical.” Ash clicked his tongue in a way that was so alien to his personality, it threw Artix for a frozen loop.

“That’s not his fault! A lot of swords come his way!” Ash argued with himself. “Alright then, if you say so.”

“Ash?” Artix coughed, far more alarmed at the one-man conversation than at the blue pool opening under his back.

At the lip of the crater, Zorbak and a couple of the cowering necromancers had gathered to send this problem to someone else.

“Definitely a problem, meh,” Zorbak scratched his ear with his staff. “A different blue mage should be able to take care of this.” His staff and the staves of the other necromancers shone.

“Good luck, Fartix!” A necromancer sent the pair off with a sneer. The graves opened and plunged Artix and Ash into a sea of trees.

Pushing off of Artix, Ash dove into the woods, expertly cutting and batting away the branches with skills that didn’t belong to him. The Paladin went after his possessed friend, following the path that had opened and slowing the fall as much as he could by dragging his blade over the bark of the nearest tree.

Landing, Artix rolled to prevent his kneecaps from shooting out of his legs. He managed to come to a stop on his back on a bed of mushrooms, surviving the fall with what was likely two sprained ankles. An honest miracle.

Standing above him, Nythera quietly hid the basket of reagents she wasn’t supposed to have behind her. Looking between Artix and Ash, who stepped into their clearing completely unharmed, Nythera’s lips twisted into an accusing pout.

“I’m not breaking curfew, you are.”  

[orbemnews]

Health Advocate or Big Brother? Companies Weigh Requiring Vaccines. As American companies prepare to bring large numbers of workers back to the office in the coming months, executives are facing one of their most delicate pandemic-related decisions: Should they require employees to be vaccinated? Take the case of United Airlines. In January, the chief executive, Scott Kirby, indicated at a company town hall that he wanted to require all of his roughly 96,000 employees to get coronavirus vaccines once they became widely available. “I think it’s the right thing to do,” Mr. Kirby said, before urging other corporations to follow suit. It has been four months. No major airlines have made a similar pledge — and United Airlines is waffling. “It’s still something we are considering, but no final decisions have been made,” a spokeswoman, Leslie Scott, said. For the country’s largest companies, mandatory vaccinations would protect service workers and lower the anxiety for returning office employees. That includes those who have been vaccinated but may be reluctant to return without knowing whether their colleagues have as well. And there is a public service element: The goal of herd immunity has slipped as the pace of vaccinations has slowed. But making vaccinations mandatory could risk a backlash, and perhaps even litigation, from those who view it as an invasion of privacy and a Big Brother-like move to control the lives of employees. In polls, executives show a willingness to require vaccinations. In a survey of 1,339 employers conducted by Arizona State University’s College of Health Solutions and funded by the Rockefeller Foundation, 44 percent of U.S. respondents said they planned to mandate vaccinations for their companies. In a separate poll of 446 employers conducted by Willis Towers Watson, a risk-management firm, 23 percent of respondents said they were “planning or considering requiring employees to get vaccinated for them to return to the worksite.” That discrepancy, said Mara Aspinall, who led the Arizona State poll, may have to do with the timing of the surveys and the pace at which executives are growing comfortable with the vaccines. Arizona State conducted its survey in March, while Willis Towers led its survey between Feb. 23 and March 12. Despite what surveys have found, few executives have taken the step of mandating vaccines. It seems that most are hoping that encouragement, whether forceful or subtle, will be enough. “While legally in the United States, employers can mandate vaccines while providing accommodations for religious and for health reasons, socially, in terms of the social acceptability of these decisions, it’s much more tenuous,” said Laura Boudreau, a professor of public policy at Columbia University. “And so the reputational risks to these companies of getting this wrong are really high.” Douglas Brayley, an employment lawyer at the global law firm Ropes & Gray, warns clients of the implications of following through on a mandate, he said. “What if 10 percent of your work force refuses? Are you prepared to lay off that 10 percent?” he said he asked clients. “Or what if it’s someone high-level or in a key role, would you be prepared to impose consequences? And then they sometimes get more nervous.” He added, “Anytime you would have them putting out a mandate, but then carrying through the consequences unevenly, that would create a risk of potentially unlawful unfair treatment.” Updated  May 6, 2021, 7:57 p.m. ET Companies that require vaccines may also be concerned about any side effects or medical issues that an employee might claim were caused by the vaccine. “They could be held liable for any sort of adverse effects that might happen a year or two down the road,” said Karl Minges, chair of health administration and policy at the University of New Haven. Some companies are sidestepping the problem and trying incentives instead. Amtrak is paying employees two hours’ worth of regular wages per shot upon proof of vaccination. Darden, which owns Olive Garden and other restaurants, told employees it would offer hourly employees two hours of pay for each dose they receive, while emphasizing it would not make doses mandatory. Target is offering a $5 coupon to all customers and employees who receive their vaccination at a CVS at Target location. In the United States, there’s nothing new about vaccines being required for participation in public life. The Supreme Court ruled about a century ago that states could require vaccinations for children attending public school. And universities like Rutgers have instituted mandatory Covid-19 vaccinations. But the pandemic brings up a host of complications that companies typically prefer to avoid, involving the private lives, religious preferences and medical histories of employees, such as whether an employee is pregnant, breastfeeding or immuno-compromised, information they may not want to reveal. Major union groups, like the A.F.L.-C.I.O., have not aggressively pushed the issue either. They are facing dueling forces — standing up for individual worker’s rights on the one hand and protecting one another on the other. Unions have also been arguing for stronger workplace safety measures, efforts that could be complicated by companies’ arguing that mandatory vaccinations reduce the need for such accommodations. The return to work protocols negotiated between the Alliance of Motion Picture & Television Producers and Hollywood’s unions, for instance, will not include mandatory vaccinations. “There are going to be some people who may have legitimate reasons for not getting the vaccine or for not wanting to talk about it,” said Carrie Altieri, who works in communications for IBM’s People and Culture business. “It’s not an easy issue at this point.” IBM is working with New York State on a digital passport linking a person’s vaccination records to an app to show businesses, like performance venues, that may require vaccination. It is not, though, requiring vaccinations for its employees. For some businesses like restaurants, which are already struggling to hire workers, mandating vaccinations could make hiring even more difficult. And there are questions of logistics and execution. How can companies confirm the veracity of those who say they’ve been vaccinated? Companies may need to hire additional staff, potentially with medical training, to handle such tasks, which could saddle businesses — particularly small ones — with burdensome costs. Vivint, a home security company based in Utah with 10,000 employees, began offering vaccines in its on-site clinic this week, after the state approved the company to distribute 100 shots a week to its staff. It paid $3,000 for the necessary medical-grade freezer. “We’re not requiring employees to get vaccinated, but we’re highly encouraging it,” said Starr Fowler, senior vice president for human resources. “For a lot of our employees, particularly those that are younger, the easier that we make it for them, the more likely they’re going to do it.” Others are experimenting with splitting up their work forces. Salesforce is introducing a policy in certain U.S. offices, including Salesforce Tower in San Francisco, where up to 100 fully vaccinated employees can volunteer to work on designated floors. The New York Stock Exchange issued a memo to trading firms saying they would be allowed to increase their staff on the floor, provided all the employees have been vaccinated. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission issued guidance in December stating that employers were indeed legally permitted to require employees to be vaccinated before they return to offices. But the threat of litigation still looms. “To be concerned about the possibility of litigation seems to me to be a perfectly legitimate concern,” said Eric Feldman, a law professor at the University of Pennsylvania. He added, “It would seem to me that employers are going to find themselves in a fairly strong position legally — but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to get sued.” Legislation that would limit the ability to require vaccines for students, employees or the public in general has been proposed in at least 25 states, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. Some of those restrictions pertain only to vaccines that, like those for Covid-19, have yet to be granted full approval by the Food and Drug Administration. (The coronavirus vaccines have been granted conditional approval for emergency use.) Pfizer is expected to file for full approval of its Covid-19 vaccine soon. Others are expected to follow. Speaking at a Wall Street Journal conference this week, Jamie Dimon, the chief executive of JPMorgan Chase, mentioned “legal issues about requiring vaccines” when asked about bringing workers back to the office. A press officer for the bank, which plans to open its offices on May 17 on a voluntary basis, said it strongly encouraged vaccines for employees — barring any religious or health restrictions — but would not require them. A spokeswoman for Goldman Sachs, which has not guided employees either way, declined to comment. One potential path for companies seeking a middle ground is to mandate the shots only for new hires. Still, there is a fine line between encouraging and requiring shots — sometimes resulting in conflicting messages to employees. The investment bank Jefferies sent a memo to employees in early February stating “verification of vaccination will be required to access the office.” On Feb. 24 came a follow-up memo. “We did not intend to make it sound as if we are mandating vaccines,” it said. Reporting was contributed by Rebecca Robbins, Sapna Maheshwari, Kellen Browning, Niraj Chokshi and Eshe Nelson. Source link Orbem News #Advocate #Big #brother #Companies #Health #Requiring #Vaccines #weigh

[dontshootmespence]

Out of Nowhere

A/N: A request from @sweetg for a slightly smutty, slightly fluffy fic where the reader already works for the BAU, and Spencer is going on a job interview. After he gets the job, a relationship develops. 

Warnings: Smut

                                                               ----

All of you were already smart. Why did you need to hire a technical genius that couldn’t run and whose marksmanship sucked? “How many people are interviewing for this position?” You asked Hotch. Unfortunately, you were the lowest man on the totem pole, the one who got hired most recently, but you had earned the team’s respect.

“Just two. Dr. Spencer Reid and Dr. Ned Coulson.”

Should you overstep your boundaries? Ok, sidestep. How could you say this? “Okay, Hotch, I don’t want to sound out of line, but why are we hiring someone who’s insanely smart but can run or shoot?”

His tight-lipped smile curled up a little more; he did understand where you were coming from. “I can understand your skepticism, but having someone with an extremely high intellect will allow us to tackle cases from another angle. It’ll give us a perspective that we don’t already have.”

You guessed that made sense. “Alright, I guess I get that. Just...can you make sure whoever it is isn’t completely inept with a gun?” You laughed.

“I’ll do my best.”

                                                             ----

“So, who’s our new guy?” You asked. The week after the interviews, the team could see in his eyes that he had made a decision. “We know you’ve chosen someone. Who is it?”

“Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s 22 years old, has three Ph.D.’s and an IQ of 187, and Y/N , don’t worry, he passed his marksmanship test, if only just.”

That you could handle. “Cool, when does he start?”

“Tomorrow.”

                                                            ----

Oh, this was going to be difficult. Yes, he was a genius, and yes, he also was very physically inept, but he was very sweet, and though you wouldn’t admit it to Hotch or anyone else on the team, but you were developing a little bit of a crush on the team’s new genius. If you had to put money on it, you’d say he had a bit of a crush on you too. Whenever he spoke to you, he blushed like a madman, stammered like he was in high school and just generally couldn’t meet your gaze. “Spencer.” He was sitting at his desk and looked like he was deep in thought. “Hey Spencer!”

His head snapped up from the desktop. “Oh, oh, s-s-sorry, Y/N. W-what is it?”

“Can I get the paperwork from your first case?” As the two young ones, Hotch thought it best to pair you up, so you needed to sign off on some paperwork that he started. “I need to hand it to Hotch by the end of the day today.”

Spencer got up from his desk and nearly tripped over his own feet as he grabbed the pile of paperwork and handed it to you. “Oh, s-s-sorry.” As he handed it over, he averted your gaze and started to ramble.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Spencer. We want you to be comfortable here. Okay?” You took the paperwork from his hands and your fingers brushed up against his. He had soft hands. When he stammered, about to apologize again, you met his gaze and smiled. Hopefully, he’d become more comfortable.

                                                           ----

Spencer had been with the BAU for less than a month, but during that time, he’d become much more at ease with himself. Once or twice, he’d come out with the team, but more often than not, the two of you would find yourselves as the last ones in the bullpen at night, talking for hours about anything from Star Wars to comic books to Einstein’s theory of relativity. “Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan is obviously the best of those movies”

“I’m sorry, Spence. I have a soft spot for Star Trek: Generations. I used to watch it with my dad all the time.” This was a recurring theme over the last month - arguing over the best and worst films in fandom. As you entered the elevator, you bumped his body with your hip.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the best one, it just means your nostalgic for it,” he said. “You wanna grab a slice? I’m hungry.”

Gods, yes. Food was necessary. “Totally, but you didn’t ask for what was the technical best film, yes Wrath of Khan is arguable the best. You asked for favorite. Generations is the favorite because it’s amazing and I used to watch it with my dad.”

“Okay, we need to have a quick question and answer type deal because I need to figure out whether we can actually be friends,” he laughed, pressing the button for the garage floor.

“Oh really?” This was the most out of his shell he’d been since he started.

After deciding to grab a slice at the place down the block, he started the game. “Okay, no thinking, just answering. Ready?”

“Yea, go.”

“Star Trek or Star Wars?”

“Wars.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, duh.”

“Legolas or Aragorn?”

“AHHHHH!!! Aragorn! I hate you for making me choose.”

It went on like that, question after question for nearly the entire time they ate. They both preferred autumn over any other season. Y/N was a dog person, while Spencer was a cat person. Both preferred a walk through the woods rather than one on the beach, and would also prefer a quiet night at home as opposed to going out. 

While the questions started out more random, it seemed that as the night wore on, the questions got deeper, until what was the final question. “Love or trust?”

“Trust,” you said without hesitation, “Love can come from trust, but just because you love someone doesn’t mean you trust them.” 

While you were talking, you’d somehow ended up by your car. “Spence, that was fun. We should do that again some time.”

“I’d like that.” The way he blushed made you think he thought of this as a date, and before this moment you hadn’t, but seeing him like this, his face soft and blushing in the shine of the moon, something about it made you admit to yourself that you were crushing on the Doctor.

Leaning up, you quickly pressed your lips to his, pulling away as quickly as you’d approached. “Sorry,” you said. “I just...”

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. Without another word, he brought his hand to the side of your face and kissed you again, more needy and hungry than before.  While the moon peeked in through the openings in the parking structure, Spencer gently backed you into your car, his hands hesitantly roaming your midsection. 

You whimpered into the kiss when he pulled you closer. “Spence...I...”

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, swallowing back his need as he backed away.

Reaching your hands out, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in. “I didn’t mean it like that...I meant...maybe...would you want to come back to my place?” The heat rose in your cheeks. You never blushed? Why the fuck were you blushing? Why were you falling for this lanky nerd boy? 

Spencer quickly gave you a peck on the lips before getting in the passenger seat and driving to your apartment in utter silence with the little but the moonlight to guide you. “Are you s-sure?” He asked as you pulled up.

“Yes. You?”

He nodded, biting his lower lip as his gaze unglued from yours and allowed him to get out of the car.

Once upstairs, his seeming nervousness subsided. His hands effortlessly glided underneath your jacket, peeling it off and throwing it toward the floor. Again, you whimpered into the comfort of his kiss, reveling in the feel of his lips against your skin. “Inside,” you breathed heavily. 

In a torrent of clumsiness and heat, you disrobed each other save for your undergarments and tripped into bed. “That was smooth.”

“Sorry,” he laughed.  “Don’t be. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.” Laughing, you turned him over and straddled his thighs, grinding back and forth and feeling his length begin to stiffen even more. The way his eyes bore into you made you feel...wanted. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs teasing at the fabric of the panties you wore. Even the slightest touch had you wanting. As he watched, you reached behind you and unlatched your bra. His breath hitched at the sight and his hands followed, cupping the mounds of flesh and squeezing just slightly - enough to make you whine for him. “Take me,” you breathed. 

Quickly, he removed your panties and threw them to the side before removing his own boxers. You situated yourself back on top of him and pulled a condom from the night stand to sheath him before sinking down onto his length. “Oh,” you said, shaking as your walls molded perfectly around him, “oh fuck.”

A strangled grunt escaped him when you started to move up and down on his length. “I still can’t believe you like Generations more than Wrath of Khan,” he smiled as you bent down to kiss him. “I don’t know if I can be with someone like that.”

Your tongue stuck out slightly from your lips, taking Spencer’s laughter into your mouth. “Is that so?” You contracted your muscles around his length and giggled at the cry that escaped him. “It doesn’t seem like you’re having a problem.”

“Maybe I can make an exception.”

As your bottom half continued moving up and down, contracting tighter and tighter around his length, the laughter subsided; in its place took desperation. “Spencer...please.” You were doing the majority of the work, but your breasts needed attention. Grabbing his hands, you brought them up to your chest, silently telling him exactly what you needed. When his pinched your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger, you arched back, the feeling going straight to your core.

Your cry brought him to sit up, burying his head in your chest as you continued your grinding motions against him. “Will you come for me?” He whispered. The confidence - the 180-degree turn from earlier - made you shiver. He thrusted up into you. Everything became much more frenzied. He needed you and you needed him. Perhaps more importantly, he wanted you and you wanted him. “Y/N, please...come for me.”

Spencer wrapped his hands around your body, which started to shake with the force of your release. “Come with me,” you begged. “Oh fuck.” You gasped when his length hit the deepest parts of you and made the shaking more intense. And when his hand reached between your writhing bodies to touch your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out. “Spencer!”

“Fuuuucccckkkk...” he groaned. He hungrily devoured your flesh, peppering your collarbone and chest in kisses that made your body melt. “Oh my god, Y/N...that was...”

“Was it better than you thought from someone who likes Generations more than Wrath of Khan?” You asked, giggling into his mouth as you kissed him and removed yourself from him. “Or someone who likes dogs more than cats?”

“I think I can get over that,” he laughed. When you removed his condom and threw it away, he fell backward into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “For you, I’ll get over it.”

“I’m honored,” you laughed.

“Should we tell anyone?” He asked. “That is...if this is more than just a one night thing...” He trailed off, his words losing their edge as he spoke. 

It was ironic how you questioned his need to be on the team just a month earlier. “I’m not a one night thing kind of person, Spencer. I was hoping it would be more of a-”

He cut you off, turning into you and taking your mouth in a searing kiss. “Good. Should we tell anyone?”

“Let’s wait a while,” you said honestly. “But in all actuality, they already know.”

@coveofmemories @jamiemelyn @sexualemobitch @unstoppableangel8 @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @lukeassmanalvez @yoinkpeter @the-slytherin-ice-queen

[aeveriedreams]

#3 - Justice

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ‘s FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge

Prompt #3: The Twelve

~Evelyne Lemieux~

-Three years ago-

=Day 1 - Halone=

A quick strike broke through his guard, the tip of my longsword cutting his shirt. “Ack! Go easy on me Evie.” Elliot smirked at me, rubbing at his chest. “Oh no! I’m bleeding!” His hand came up to show me the red on his fingertips, “You cruel, cruel sister!”

“Shut up and grab your sword Elliot!” My voice came out of breath, showing more weakness than I meant to.

“Alright, alright! Such a drill sergeant you are!”

I didn’t respond. My eyes narrowed and focused, my sword held up to face him.

Elliot changed. The smirking, easy-going brother disappeared. In his place came the Knight of Ishgard.

I focused on my training. Right foot forward, pivot, strike, bind. I had the advantage, str-- “Ack!” I fell back into the dirt, Elliot’s boot planted into my chest. He let me roll away and I lept to my feet. “Again!”

Once more in the bind, I was weak. His sword cut across to end at my neck, perfectly stopping. I sighed, nodded, and stepped back. “Again!”

I avoided the bind, keeping distance to skip my blade off of his with a quick sidestep and cut! Elliot ducked back perfectly, kicking my leg out from under me and causing me to faceplant into the grass.

It was infuriating. How is it no matter how hard I tried, he could toy with me?

Elliot had his stupid grin back, holding a hand down to me, his sword held backhanded and away. “Up up little sister. Knights cannot falter.”

I took his hand, pulling myself up. He reached up and fixed my hair, pulling a leaf out of it. I relaxed, a smile coming to my face. Stepping away after a moment I chuckled, “Okay, okay. I can fix my own hair, you know.”

“Of course you can. You’re a grown woman now. Again?” “Again!”

=Day 2 - Menphina=

Aven. Tall. Strong. Blonde, the opposite of mine. Firm jawline. Distracting. I was leaning forward on my desk, head in my hands as I stared. Surprisingly he was paying attention. Why? Numbers. Equations. Who cares? Am I going to need to long divide before I duel someone?

The professor droned on and on. My notes were a mess. I copied everything she wrote and retained nothing. “Miss Lemieux!”

I snapped to attention. Aven looked back at me, catching what I was doing, and smiled. A blush rose to my cheeks. “Yes ma’am.”

“When you are -quite- done staring at boys, I would like you to tell me the answer to this problem.”

The class laughed.

~-~-~

I walked out of class quickly, packed up and ready to leave before anyone else. Aven caught me, “Evelyne!”

I blinked. I stopped in the doorway. Someone bumped into me and complained. I sidled out of the way and stood there.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Aven stepped up to me.

I swallowed my heart back down, “Y-Yeah? Good.” I smiled. Stupid. Way to be obvious.

“Yeah.” He had a confident smirk, fixing his glasses. “It’s normal for girls to stare at me.”

“Would you want to --” I started to ask, I took the risk.

“I didn’t mean that, Evelyne. Sorry, you’re just not my type.” Aven’s features winced as he walked off, ending that awkward situation abruptly.

A couple of girls from the back row that hadn’t left yet gave me pity faces. I walked quickly out of the room, standing tall and not letting anybody see me.

=Day 3 - Thaliak=

Sitting down by what used to be a river, in the snow, I was reading. It wasn’t for school, it was a manual. I’d read it before three times. I memorized every pattern, every movement. I couldn’t ever let myself be caught off-guard. I would react in an instant on --

“Reading doesn’t get you anywhere.” Elliot’s smirking voice came from behind me.

“You won’t say that when I beat you.” I frowned, pretending to still read but not doing so at all.

“You won’t beat me with your nose in a book.” “This book has taught me techniques you haven’t!”

“If I didn’t teach them, you won’t need them.”

“How can you -know- that?”

“I’ve been in combat Evie. I know.”

“Don’t you ever read anything?”

“Nope. I’m more of a ‘show, don’t tell’ kind of guy.”

I yelled as I stood to my feet, reaching for a large branch and tearing off all the excess. “Show me then!” “Okay little sister. You’re on.” He casually pushed himself up, getting into a fighting stance unarmed.

I rushed at him to swing.

=Day 4 - Nymeia=

I was laying in the grass after another training session, staring up at the stars with Elliot.

“Hey, Evie. What do you want, anyway?” His voice was somber, relaxed. None of the usual challenge or annoying smirking. “What.. do I want? I don’t know. To be a knight, obviously. To be like you.” “You don’t want to be like me.” “You don’t get to tell me what I want!”

“Alright. Whatever you say, little sister.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I’ve always called you that.” “Yeah. Stop it.” “What? Because you’re a woman now? You’re still -my- little sister you know.” He smirked at me. There it was again.

I sighed, smiling in spite of myself. “Okay, Elliot. I hate being a ‘princess’. I never liked those girls in the stories. I want to be a hero. I want to be a knight. A protector, a savior, a fighter, a warrior.”

“You can’t always have it both ways. It’s dangerous. You could get hurt, killed, worse.”

“I -know- that, Elliot.”

“But -do- you? It’s hard, Evie. Much harder than you think it is. It’s easy to sit here with me and train and work hard - you -do- work very hard - and think you can take on whatever you put your mind to. I want that to be the case. I want you to be happy. But you need to consider the consequences too. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t, or you can’t. I’ll keep training you until the day I die. When you’re a knight, I’ll gladly stand by your side and fight with you. But don’t be -stupid-.”

I punched him in the arm.

“Owww! What was -that- for?” “Thanks, big brother.”

We smiled to each other, and then spoke on the stars.

=Day 5 - Llymlaen=

“Evelyne I know it’s boring but you have to learn.” Elliot was stern with me.

“I can go hunt, I can use a bow!” I was indignant as always.

“What if there’s a river and no good game? You need survival skills.”

“Ugh, fine.” I fell down next to him on the bank of the river, picking up my fishing rod again.

“You’re brash, and bold. Great qualities for a knight. Do you know why you lose when we spar?”

“Because you’re -better-, is that what you want to hear?”

Elliot laughed, “Maybe so. It does stroke my ego.” I gave him a narrowed look.

“It’s because you lack patience. It’s not enough to be strong, you also have to be smart.” “And this is supposed to help?” “Fishing is all about patience. Waiting for your moment to strike and reel it in. Searching for your opportunity.”

My eyes fell to the current, watching the water ripple as the lure bobbed.

“But nothing ever -happens-.”

“Sometimes not. But when it does…” His lure dipped, and he caught on, reeling it in quickly with a practiced focus.

The fish flopped onto the bank beside me.

“You’ll be there to take advantage of the opportunity.”

=Day 6 - Oschon=

“Take me with you!” “Evie, I can’t.”

I was shouting at Elliot. Again.

“I -hate- it here!”

“I know you do.”

“It’s cold and I’m practically trapped in here--” “That’s not true. You still go to your classes, and can go outside when--” “But I can’t -leave- Elliot! I want to see the world, I want to fight, I want to help people! What am I doing just sitting around?” “They just want to protect you.” “I don’t want to be -protected-!” My voice raised.

“I can’t.” Elliot looked at me sadly. “I love you Evelyne.” “Don’t give me that. Don’t just throw that at me like that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll see. I’ll talk to mother and father, I’ll talk to my superiors. We’ll see about getting you officially into training with me within the year, alright?”

I couldn’t take it anymore. The thought of being trapped here longer. The thought of more boring classes that I hated. The thought of nothing to do but read books I didn’t enjoy and train by myself. Elliot had gone away before, but it was worse now. I depended on him.

He pulled me close and hugged me, and I cried into his chest.

Then he was gone.

=Day 7 - Byregot=

I was never able to buy the swords I wanted. My family had the money but they wouldn’t give it to me for those pursuits. Dresses, make-up, furniture, books, all the best things a princess would need. I hated all of it. After Elliot left I spent a lot of days at the smithy. I became fast friends with the man himself. He didn’t treat me differently for being a girl. He was excited to have someone so passionate enjoying his craft.

I didn’t have much of a desire to learn, but it was still interesting to see what went into making a high-quality sword. It helped teach me how to wield one that much better. My brother always used a greatsword when he went into combat. For all his talk of ‘patience’ he wasn’t subtle. The way he tells it, he ran into the front lines armored up without a shield and without much care for defense.

“The best defense is kicking the crap out of the guy in front of you.” I heard him say to one of his friends once, while laughing. He wouldn’t ever encourage me to be that way.

But he said it himself. He was a ‘show, don’t tell’ kind of guy. I know what he showed, even if he didn’t say it. I tried a light longsword and a shield. I tried a two-handed longsword. I tried a greatsword like my brother, but it was heavy. I was strong for a girl with all my training and it was still difficult. And the length. The smith suggested a spear, like Halone herself. I tried that, it didn’t take. I kept up my training, practicing whatever I could, and enjoying the new friend I made.

=Day 8 - Rhalgr=

“Hey little sister.” Elliot smiled at me, but he sounded different. He tried not to.

This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t. It didn’t make sense. How could he be lying there right now?

There was blood everywhere. I didn’t care. I pushed forward and hugged him. My beautiful blue dress was ruined. I didn’t care.

“Hey hey, watch it!” He laughed, trying to play it off, but the pain was in his voice.

“Elliot, how could.. What did..” “They told you. I went down after fighting off twenty gu--” “Shut up!” I shouted at him. “I don’t want the bravado, I want the truth!” Tears began running down my face.

“Okay. You deserve that.” His voice cracked. “I fucked up. It’s on me. My buddy went down after his chocobo fell out from under him. I went and got him to his feet and took an arrow. After that, we got swarmed.” “That’s not on you, you were saving your friend!”

“Yeah.”

“Did he make it?”

“Yeah.” “Then you’re a big stupid hero, idiot!” I hugged him tighter.

“Ow, okay little sister.” He reached up and returned the hug as best he could.

“I love you.” I mumbled through my tears.

“I love you too, Evie.”

Long minutes of silence passed, aside from my sobbing and his breathing. Then he was asleep. I stayed with him all night, and I didn’t sleep.

=Day 9 - Azeyma=

Night and day I spent reading books. All those stupid books I hated in school. I didn’t go to class. I read and I read and I read. There had to be something I could find. Some medicine the dumb Ishgardian conjurers didn’t think of. Some special aetherical solution. Some forbidden Garlean technology. Some holy grail.

I found nothing and still I didn’t stop. Elliot got worse. After two days he couldn’t talk anymore. I stayed with him as much as I could. I barely slept, I sat by his side, I laid down next to him. I kept reading. I got him anything he needed.

Our parents were at a loss. They tried. I didn’t want anything to do with them. They loved us. I didn’t care. I wanted more time with him. He was their knight in shining armor, he was their hero. He was my hero. He still played the part in bed, looking princely with his silver armor beside him, the blue accented sashes adorning it. His greatsword rested by his bed. It loomed over me every day. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.

=Day 10 - Nald’thal=

I sat there with the smith, staring at Elliot’s greatsword. No, my greatsword. It was a beautiful silver-blue, with a dragon carved into the hilt. A strange choice for an Ishgardian knight who stands against dragons, but Elliot was always different. Out of the kindness of his heart and that all the materials were available, my new friend was fitting the armor for me. I had his sword. I had his armor. I was done. Whatever part of me that was still a princess was gone. I was committed. I didn’t care what my parents wanted, or what they said. They tried to push back even harder wanting to protect me, until finally relenting. They didn’t have the strength to fight it.

I was going to be a knight. I was going to be a hero. Nothing was going to stop me. I missed him every day but I was done crying. He died so young and I was not letting his spirit be lost in vain. There wasn’t any good I could do as a princess. Not like Elliot. I had no interest in romance or a husband or lands or children. Maybe Elliot would have wanted those things himself one day anyway, but I don’t care. He didn’t have that chance anymore. I was going to make the most of his training, his memory, and his legacy.

The smith finished, and I put on the armor for the first time.

For the first time in weeks, I felt strong.

=Day 11 - Nophica=

I was in Coerthas, fully armored but my helmet was off. I wanted to talk to the initiates and recruits. I wanted to learn what was different about Coerthan training opposed to the honorable Ishgardian way. There wasn’t too much of a difference, but it was noticeable enough. I picked up a few new things, and prepared myself to join.

I knew I’d probably be too caught up in Ishgardian society once I was in, so I took the time to ‘smell the roses’. Except they were frozen, and most everything out here was dead. There was still a beauty in the snowy wasteland. A pristine coating over all the pain. I grew up with it enough to not mind it. Elliot and I had snowball fights all the time.

I spotted a girl, blonde, smaller than anyone else she was fighting, sparring in a circle. She fought more duels than any of them. Win or lose, she stood tall. It was impressive to watch. After a bit, I smiled at her and left. Ishgard looked huge walking in from the bridge. I bought an apple for a girl in the Brume on the way. It was a long walk back to the Pillars. Returning home, I fell asleep.

=Day 12 - Althyk=

First day of training. I passed the exams and the initiation. I was in. Evelyne Lemieux, knight-in-training of Ishgard. The armor was a damn sight worse than my own, but that’s alright. I knew what I would use when I made a name for myself.

I stepped into line with the other recruits, and followed along with the lesson. It was boring. Elliot had already taught me all of it. Some of the guys gave me a hard time, but that stopped after they saw what I could do. I made friends, a bit. I trained all day even after time, I went to bed exhausted. It didn’t matter. I felt great.

Out of training I became a Temple Knight, keeping the peace in Ishgard. It wasn’t what I wanted yet, but it was a good first step. Maybe I could become a dragoon or a paladin. Only time would tell.

I’ll make you proud, Elliot.

[offansandflames]

SNS Summer Week 2017 Day 1 Prompt: Canon Divergence Title: A Mistake Alternate link: AO3

Everyone makes mistakes.

Given his dark past and plethora of mistakes raising four children and nine grandchildren, this is something Sasuke knows all too well.

“You’re a genius, Naruto,” Sasuke stated reluctantly.

The warm sunlight of late morning wafted into the house. It was a small but very well-designed and decorated home in the Uchiha district, with a garden bursting with cabbage, apples, and tomatoes in the back. They’d previously lived in a five bedroom, two-story home – plenty of room for the four children they’d adopted.

But once Sasuke’s arthritis set in and Naruto started to wind down, it had become too cumbersome to take care of such a large place. About ten years ago, Sasuke accrued a brutal injury out on the field; his leg was broken in three places. For the most part, it healed well, but every now and again the old injury would flare up. His arthritis just added to the problem. The stairs didn’t do any favors for Sasuke’s knees, which creaked like an old door with every upward step.

“Heh.  The majority of a century married to me, and you figure this out now?”

Their marriage, truly, was a natural extension of the bond the two shared since they were children. Since they connected on that level, they only had eyes for each other, and thank the stars above that they shared the same orientation.

After their wounds healed from their final fight, the two had been sent off for a mapping expedition. As even Kakashi admitted, it was merely an excuse to get rid of the two of them until tensions died down. Given the powers that Sasuke had accumulated, Naruto was the only one the village trusted to keep Sasuke in check – both physically and emotionally. Being the village hero came with a lot of trust.

They traveled to the edges of the map and beyond. Different systems of government, different cultures, different foods, different standards of living… They each kept their own journals, documenting everything they’d seen. Both of them changed, if only a little, with every new thing they learned.

And where there was war, the two would do everything in their power to resolve it. And it was in one of these war-torn regions, far from the outreaches of their maps, that they found Hanae – their first child. She was 3-years-old, malnourished, and had already been blinded in one eye. She had no one, and left on her own, she would likely die. Naruto thought that he’d have quite the task cut out for him, convincing Sasuke to take her with them. Naruto was wrong.

Late one night, as Hanae slept in their tent, Naruto and Sasuke sat by their campfire, eating and reminiscing. Naruto admitted his fears that somehow, despite all of this, he’d lose Sasuke again.

Sasuke’s response? A marriage proposal. From then on, it was history.

“It takes a special breed of talent to mess up a perfectly tidy house so quickly and horribly.  And I don’t like using the word ‘century’ to refer to my lifespan.”

Sasuke had woken up with the sun, dusting and scrubbing every relevant item meticulously. His hips and knees worsened every time he bent over, and he walked with a slight limp after all that exertion, one hand on his hip as he tried to minimize his limp as much as possible. Sasuke didn’t like showing any signs of weakness, emotional or physical.

Then Naruto had decided to make breakfast, if that abomination he slapped on the table could even be called that. Quite the mess had accompanied it. Sasuke felt like strangling him.

Naruto rolled his eyes.

“Please.  Not everyone is up to your anal standards of tidiness. You once called our bathroom a pigsty because the toilet paper was rolled underhanded.”

Sasuke clucked his tongue. That was a long time ago.

“There’s a reason people put it in an overhand position.  It’s instinctual.”

“It needs to be an overhand position,” Naruto imitated, adopting Sasuke’s bone straight posture and pursing his lips in mocked distaste and crossing his arms, “It’s instinctual.”

“Besides, you’re sidestepping.  You left more than half a cup of tea on the table, which is not only slobbish but also wasteful.  Both the refrigerator and the trash can lid were open.  And what the hell did you put on the stove, super glue and lard?”

“It was an experiment,” Naruto said sheepishly, averting his eyes from Sasuke and gazing out the window.

“Again?  Really?  We’re too old for this, Naruto.”

“Hey now, hey…” Naruto interrupted assertively.  “You’re only as old as you feel.”

“Tell that to my arthritis when I have to clean up after you,” Sasuke grumbled.

Naruto sighed.

“C’mon, Sasuke, stop being such a grumpy old man.”

“I’ll stop acting like a grumpy old man when you stop acting like an 84-year-old child.”

“Jeez, snippy snippy.”

Unfortunately, his issues with his knees and hips was one of the reasons he’d had to retire from the police force he’d founded. This endeavor, which had carried over from his early childhood, granted him so much peace that he finally felt justified in having his arm regenerated. Living his life with Naruto, adopting his children, and running the police force opened a new chapter of Sasuke’s life, and he no longer felt the need to punish himself for an old one.

Where Sasuke brought order to the Land of Fire, Naruto brought peace. Sasuke dealt with both civilian crime and corruption in the government, at any level. Naruto guided the people. Together, they’d created a nation greater than it ever had been.

Granted, Sasuke retired a good five years later than he probably should have and only did so when Hanae had stepped up to plate to fill her father’s footsteps. Sasuke put not an ounce of nepotism in his decision to grant her this honor, and never would he be so selfish as to pressure his children into a certain profession out of personal interest.

However, this didn’t stop him from having to hide his watering eyes at the commencement ceremony. Sasuke truly had been objective, calling her the only “suitable heir” – as always, his expectations were high. If Sasuke’s pride could have adopted a tangible form, it would have shined as brightly as the sun.

Yet Hanae was only one child out of their four. Of the three others, one became a doctor, another joined ANBU, and still another became a scientist in the cryptology lab.  While they were proud of every single one of them, Sasuke had a special place in his heart for Hanae, even moreso after she was appointed chief. She was a daddy’s girl, without question.

“Hanae’s going to be here in ten minutes, and you haven’t even started on the stove yet.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll start,” Naruto groaned as he stood up, bracing himself against the kitchen table. “Besides, is it really the end of the world if the stove isn’t completely, one hundred percent spotless?”

Sasuke merely stared at Naruto, blankly and sarcastically.

“Is that really the type of example you want to set for our children?  For our grandchildren?”

Sasuke was probably right, as reluctant as Naruto was to admit it.  Admitting that Sasuke was right was bad enough under normal circumstances, but in this particular circumstance, it meant that Naruto was then obligated to do something about it.  Nonetheless, he took out a rag and scrubbed quickly.

“Perfe-“

“You missed a spot,” Sasuke interrupted, straightening the table cloth.

“For the love of…” Naruto growled, giving the stove a final once over and finally clearing it.

“Happy now?”

“Yes, quite.”

“Phew…” Naruto exhaled, walking up to Sasuke’s side and surveying the now clean kitchen victoriously.

Sasuke smiled softly as Naruto leaned into him, resting his head on Sasuke’s shoulder.  Unfortunately for Naruto, Sasuke had grown two inches taller than he had into adulthood.  To make matters worse, Naruto seemed to have lost a couple inches in the past decade. That’s what he got for slouching, Sasuke said.

“You can run an entire country, yet you can barely clean a kitchen.”

“Don’t question genius, sweetcakes,” Naruto grinned, ruffling Sasuke’s salt and pepper (but still very thick) hair.  As he did so, the wrinkles around the corner of his lips and eyes showed prominently. They were souvenirs from a lifetime of happiness, as Naruto would tell anyone who asked.

Sasuke rolled his eyes, gently resting his head on Naruto’s before Naruto turned to Sasuke, craning up devilishly.

“Hey, Sasuke…  We still have three minutes.”

Naruto grabbed his husband and placed a kiss on his cheek, right by his ear.

“What could we possibly do in three-”

There was the sound of a young boy and a young girl talking, the boy giggling as the girl began to sing. Two tiny pairs of feet scampered up to their doorway, and there was then a syncopated knock at the door.  Hanae was early.

As excited as Naruto had been to enjoy their alone time, which they had no shortage of after their retirement anyway, he was enthralled to hear his daughter at the door.  He swung the door open without further ado, and Sasuke could have sworn he heard Naruto’s shoulder crack.

“Hanae!”

“Hey Dad!” Hanae answered with a smile, leaning forward and giving Naruto a brief hug.

“Finally, my long-lost daughter!  How’d you feel if you came back, and we’d all wasted away, huh?”

In reality, it had been only a month.  However, their household was typically very tight-knit, and it was rare that any of their children go longer than a couple weeks without seeing their fathers unless they were abroad.

“Yeah, sorry…” Hanae stated, scratching the back of her head as was so often her father’s habit.  “It’s been a busy time for the police force.”

The police force was going through a much needed restructure, as there was a high demand for it to expand into the arena of foreign threat investigation. The people loved the force, and the organization was highly respected. With this expansion came a variety of tasks, including new hires, movement of officers, and slew of more routine items, like training.

“Grandpa!” the little boy shouted, excitedly toddling over to Naruto and falling onto his shin.

Hanae and her husband were just about to travel to Suna for work-related business, so as usual, Naruto and Sasuke had volunteered to watch both of their children. Kyo, the little boy currently clinging to Naruto’s legs, was but five years old with short red hair.

“Oh, you know it’s fine,” Naruto answered, grinning. “I’m just happy to be seeing you and the little ones.”

Naruto bent over and ruffled Kyo’s hair. Meanwhile, Hanari, their 6-year-old granddaughter, beamed at Sasuke, hair down to her waist. It was no secret that she looked up to Sasuke. He was the “cool grandpa,” after all, much to Naruto’s chagrin.

“How are the selections coming along?” Sasuke asked casually.

“We’ve got a really great bunch this year, Pa.  At this rate, it shouldn’t take us longer than two weeks.”

“Well, you’ve always had a good eye for talent.  Have you decided yet whether you’re going to combine the west sector yet?”

“No, not yet,” Hanae answered, scratching the back of her head. “We’re aiming to make the decision by May.”

“Hn…” Sasuke replied, furrowing his brow “That’s cutting it pretty close.”

Out of Hanae’s sight, Naruto cast Sasuke a warning glance.

Sasuke retired from the force as late as he possibly could have. He ran a tight ship. It was constantly in a state of readiness, had the highest caliber of talent, and repeatedly outperformed even ANBU. Walking away and handing someone else the keys, his daughter or not, was one of the most difficult things he’d done in his adult life.

For a while, as Naruto later got Sasuke to admit, he was still trying to run the force – just through his daughter. It was causing a rift in their relationship, which was normally so healthy. Hanae felt as though Sasuke didn’t trust her, and she was exasperated by him. Naruto calmed the waters, explaining to Hanae what the force meant to Sasuke, and how it was, in a sense, the last remains of his family and clan.

With conscious effort on Sasuke’s part, he stepped back and entrusted the force to Hanae. Still, at certain times, he found himself slipping into old habits.

Hanae sighed.

“Trust me, I don’t like it any better. The committee’s been so busy with…”

“Sasuke!” Naruto shouted, laughing and elbowing Sasuke in the ribcage. “It’s always work with you! You’re retired, you bas-”

Naruto paused, noticing his two grandchildren looking on with wide eyes.

“You… Dummy!”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, turning over to his daughter again.

“Hanae, I trust whatever you do, so I’m sure it will be fine.”

Hanae beamed back at the two of them. Sasuke’s compliments came rarely, so those who knew Sasuke well tended to cherish them. Sasuke looked down at his grandchildren’s faces, now noticing that Hanari had a split lip.

“What happened to Hanari’s lip?” Sasuke asked in a tone that could become dangerous.

“Oh…” Hanae sighed. “Some kids at school have been bullying her.”

“Aw, Hanari…” Naruto said, reaching down and petting her head. Meanwhile, there was a hint of fire in Sasuke’s eyes.

“You should beat them up, Hanari! I know you can do it!”

Another brilliant idea from Naruto. Though given the situation, that advice wouldn’t be half bad.

“No. Hanari, we and your mother and will take care of it,” Sasuke intercepted.

He shook his head, speaking to Hanae and Naruto, “They should be teaching these kids better than that. Kids these days have no respect.”

“Alright, Sasuke,” Naruto sighed, knowing that this had hit on one of Sasuke’s pet peeves

“I don’t know how they expect to run this country when half the time they’re…”

“Honey, go take your prune juice,” Naruto interrupted. “You get cranky when you’re constipated.”

“Says the man who spent thirty minutes in the bathroom yesterday,” Sasuke rebutted almost instantaneously. “I’m perfectly regular, and you know it.”

Hanae would’ve been taken aback by this, but growing up with those two, it took one hell of a lot to rattle her.

“Dad, take Pa more seriously,” Hanae said, pointing to Naruto. “Pa, stop ranting.”

Naruto took a step back, widening his eyes.

“Look at her!” he said, facing Sasuke and pointing to their daughter. He looked over at Hanae again. “We’re the parents! You’re not allowed to tell us that!”

“Seriously, Dad…” Hanae shook her head as she held her face, chuckling just slightly.

“Seriously nothing!  I wiped your butt!  Sasuke once had to use two different jutsu just to get a crayon out of your nose.  You don’t get to talk like that to me!”

Sasuke laughed, and it was warm.

“He’s got you on that one, Hanae.”

She rolled her eyes at the two of them.

“Whatever. Anyhow, I’ll be back in a week, okay? Have fun with Pa and Granddad!”

Their plethora of grandchildren had named Naruto Granddad. Sasuke was Pa.

“By the way,” Sasuke added. “If you need any help with the bullying situation, please let us know. We’d be more than ready.”

Hanae knew her father well enough to read into that. It made her laugh.

“Don’t worry. The school’s taking care of it.”

Hanae bent down, giving each child a long hug.

“Bye Mom!” Kyo said, jumping up and down.

“Have fun, Mom!”

Naruto took his turn hugging Hanae, and Sasuke patted her back. With a wave, Hanae left their house and was on her way.

“Woohoo!” Naruto shouted as soon as the door shut, jumping up in the air. “It’s party time! What should we do?”

“I’m hungry,” Kyo chimed in.

“Hi, Hungry. I’m Granddad!”

Sasuke groaned inwardly. With every new generation came a new wave of horrible jokes from Naruto. He was clearly running low on material, dishing out a joke like that. Kyo laughed. Perhaps he hadn’t heard that one; he was only five.

“What do you want to eat? We can have ice cream! Donuts! Dango!”

“Naruto,” Sasuke cut in with an expression that was drenched with, “We’ve talked about this.”

“But you have to eat lunch before you have dessert,” Sasuke amended.

Both of the kids seemed to think that was quite fair, given the looks on their faces.

Through power of will, Naruto convinced Sasuke to have them all eat ramen for their lunch. The catch was that it needed to have vegetables in it. Sasuke had Naruto prepare the meal while he entertained Kyo and Hanari. He appreciated getting off of his feet. Sasuke hadn’t wanted to admit that his hips and knees were flaring up, to the point where walking even slowly without a limp was difficult. It was a matter of pride.

Besides, Naruto had slowly developed the capability to make some of the best ramen Konoha had seen. Even Sasuke couldn’t resist it when Naruto made it. At last, all four were served, the steaming plates resting in front of them.

“Itadakimasu,” they said under their breath.

Kyo separated his chopsticks, digging down into his ramen and finding a piece of broccoli.

“Vegtals!” Kyo said, grinning. “I love vegtals!”

“Good for you, Kyo,” Sasuke replied. “That’s very smart of you. You’ll become big and strong.”

“I like vegetables too!” Hanari immediately interrupted. “He’s not so smart. He can’t even say ‘vegetables!’”

“You’re smart too, Hanari,” Sasuke said, his voice serious. “But don’t speak poorly of your brother.”

Hanari pouted, looking down at her bowl.

“Blah, blah, blah!” Naruto spoke over them. “You all talk too much. Your food will get cold!”

Kyo giggled at Naruto, yet again.

They’d finished in not too long. As was Sasuke’s practice, he took a lemon, sliced it, and ate one of the pieces. It was great as a palate cleanser, though everyone seemed to think he was crazy for it.

“Pa, why are you eating just a plain old lemon?” Kyo asked, looking over at Sasuke.

“Because I like plain old lemons.”

“Oh!” Hanari pitched in, raising her hand in the air. “I want to try one!”

Hanari was always trying to prove herself to Sasuke; she looked up to him for his intelligence and grace, maybe even idolized him. Yet Kyo usually favored Naruto, the “funner” one as he’d put it.

“Have fun,” Sasuke said with a sly smile, offering Hanari a slice of lemon.

Enthusiastically, she took a bite, only for her entire face to pucker up. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, chewing the lemon slice and attempting to swallow it. One gulp down. Her eyes were watering.

Naruto and Sasuke both laughed, and the sound was warm, filling their kitchen.

“You don’t have to finish it, Hanari,” Sasuke said.

“But… I like it!”

Sasuke bit his tongue, smiling. Naruto couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Why does Pa like something so sour?” Kyo asked.

“’Cuz he’s a sourpuss!” Naruto explained.

“No, ‘cuz he’s tough!” Hanari corrected.

“I wanna try too!” Kyo shouted.

“Okay,” Sasuke said, handing Kyo a lemon slice. “Just don’t take a big bite.”

Kyo nipped at the edge. He swallowed, then took an aggressive bite, grinning as he chewed the pulp.

“Yum!”

Neither Naruto nor Sasuke could hide their surprise. Just as Naruto was about to say something, his cell phone rang. It was Konohamaru. There was no missing a call from him; he’d taken Naruto’s place as hokage.

“Yeah, Konohamaru?”

A pause.

“Aw, man! Yeah…. Yeah, okay.”

Naruto let out a theatrical sigh.

“Yeah… I’ll be there. Bye.”

Naruto’s face was glum when he hung up.

“Is everything okay?” Sasuke asked, clearly on edge.

“Yes, yes, it’s fine. We just have some diplomats from the Land of Storm in town, and the negotiations are getting heated. Konohamaru thinks it’d be helpful if I made appearance to calm the waters. Guys… I’ve gotta leave for just a couple hours, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise!”

Naruto and those particular diplomats had a long history, but the countries shared a lot of bad blood. There was no backing out of this.

“Awww,” Kyo muttered under his breath, trying not to make his disappointment too obvious.

“I know, I know… Sasuke, you’ll be fine to hold the fort down when I’m gone, right?”

Sasuke hesitated for a moment. This was one of the days where every joint seemed to hurt. He couldn’t even walk at a decent pace. Every couple months, he’d have a flare-up like this, but of course it had to be in a situation like this.

But as long as nothing crazy happened, Sasuke reasoned, it should be fine. Hanari and Kyo were so well behaved, and Naruto would only be gone for a matter of hours.

“Yeah, do what you need to do.”

“Okay! Later, guys!” Naruto said as he walked towards the door, making peace signs at his grandkids before shutting it behind him.

Sasuke tried to ignore the small flicker of trepidation he felt as the door shut, leaving only him and his two grandchildren.

“Hmmm… Now what?” Kyo asked, confused.

Now isn’t that the question, Kyo...

“Want to watch some TV?”

“Yeah!”

Both of them were settled on this. Thank the powers that be.

“Alright, come along.”

They made their way into the family room, Hanari taking the remote and pointing it to the TV. It didn’t turn on. Sasuke slowly walked up to the TV and pressed the button directly. Nothing.

Their TV had been in its final death throes for the last month. Why did it have to die now? Sometimes it would work if he tinkered with the power supply. Not all was lost.

“I’m going to try to fix it. Stay there for a second.”

He needed to find his screwdriver. Out of the children’s sight, he finally let himself limp, making his way to the most distant room in the house. It was missing. Given how meticulous Sasuke was about putting things back where they belong, it must have been Naruto who misplaced it. Sasuke scoffed, making it to the next room over. Just as he laid his eyes on the screwdriver, he heard the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen.

No!

As quickly as he could, Sasuke moved toward the kitchen. If Naruto could have witnessed his frantic hobbling, he would have lost it. The kitchen now came into view, their old large clock on the floors with glass strewn everywhere. Hanari cast Sasuke the guiltiest look.

“I’m sorry, Pa!” she said, her voice trembling as she fought tears. “I’ll try to fix it!”

She bent over, hand outreached to the shards of glass.

“Don’t touch it!” Sasuke shouted, feeling his knees creak as he tried to sprint.

Hanari’s expression was seized by shock just as Sasuke neared her, only an arm’s length away. She dropped the glass to the ground, hiding her hand.

“Let me see,” Sasuke said.

Hanari abashedly showed Sasuke her hand. A small cut grazed over her second and third fingers, tiny drips of blood falling down.

It made Sasuke’s gut go cold.

“Hanari...” Sasuke said. “You’re bleeding.”

Finally, Hanari gave up to the tears, sobbing in their kitchen. Sasuke stepped through the glass, disregarding his own feet. He picked her up and moved her to the living room, setting her down on the couch.

He couldn’t believe he’d been so irresponsible. How could this have happened on his watch? He tenderly took Hanari’s hand again. A small splinter of glass had made its way under her skin.

“I need to take this out. Close your eyes; it will just be a second.”

Hanari looked frightened. Sasuke was sure that her desire to impress him was coming to his aid now. In but a second, Sasuke removed the glass. Hanari hadn’t even flinched.

“That’s my girl,” Sasuke said, smiling at her.

Bashfully, Hanari smiled back. The look on her face wasn’t enough to quell that massive guilt gnawing at his gut, however.

“Hanari, don’t touch broken glass,” Sasuke said authoritatively. “That’s very important for you to remember.”

“I’m sorry!  I just wanted to clean it up for you!”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll just clean it up later.”

Hanari sniffed, and Sasuke offered her a tissue. Kyo was too stunned to say much.

“Okay. You’re…mad at me, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not mad.”

He was angry, actually, but only with himself.

“But you were yelling at me…” she mumbled, her lower lip forming a pout.

After all this time, Sasuke would have thought he’d be immune to these adorable expressions on his children. No such luck.

“I just wanted to make sure I stopped you before you hurt yourself, dear. That’s all.”

Hanari blew her nose, sniffling again.

“But I broke your clock…”

“It was just an accident. Everybody makes mistakes.”

“But wasn’t it expensive?” Hanari asked with her brows knit. What good was it if both of them felt guilty?

“Hanari…” Sasuke said, a hint of playfulness making its way into his voice. “Have you ever met a person who never made a mistake?”

Hanari was silent, searching for words.

“Because if you have, I want you to introduce me so that I can learn their secrets.”

Hanari still said nothing. It was obvious that the gears in her head were turning.

“Does that mean…that you’ve made a mistake before, Pa? Even you?”

Her wide and innocent eyes looked over to him, and if only for the irony of it, Sasuke laughed. Hanari didn’t know the dark parts of her grandfathers’ history. It felt almost like another life to Sasuke, but for her to say that to him, of all people…

And of course, it had to be their oldest clock that had fallen. Time could change everything.

Sasuke was her hero. He wondered how learning the truth would make her feel, but given the way their children had reacted, Sasuke wasn’t concerned.

“Trust me, Hanari,” Sasuke said. “I’ve made plenty.”

[carolnein]

writes from the ocs i just posted about. ken and yuka getting together. might be a bit of a problem on the timeline since it’s undecided, so the ssb4 tier list referenced might be wrong for the time? also it’s the american tier list, because the only japanese ssb tier list i could find was melee

under the cut

“You’re not picking Shiek?” Yuka asked as she looked to Ken, who moved her pointer past her main and over to Dark Pit.

“I, uh, thought I should give you a chance.” Ken rubbed the back of her neck. “Dark Pit’s in a lower tier, so….”

“I don’t think tiers really matter if I’m playing against you.” Yuka didn’t sound annoyed, despite being more than acquainted with loss; even when Ken tried to take it easy she would inevitably find the opportunity to unleash a hellish, game-finishing combo. “You said Rosalina was ranked X.”

“Rank S,” Ken said quickly, before stumbling over herself. “N- not that it matters. The letter. And Rosalina isn’t that great if you can’t juggle with Luma anyways, so she’s-” she cut herself off again. “Just, whatever. I wanna try Dark Pit.”

“Alright.” Yuka laughed off Ken’s fatal awkwardness, trying to lighten things for her. It was rare that Ken tried to have fun in a more casual way while playing, and she always acted so self-conscious when she did so, like she couldn’t be taken seriously if she stopped thinking about tiers for just one match. Yuka, conversely, didn’t see video games as something serious at all.

“You can pick the round,” Ken mumbled, eyes focused hard on the screen. “Anything.”

“Even Wily Castle?” she asked, knowing it was one of the stages with hazards that Ken hated.

“I said anything…” she said, again mumbling. The usual feigned reluctance she showed when picking casual options was absent.

Yuka leaned over to where she was sitting a few feet away and playfully put a hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Ken stammered and jumped away from her touch. “I’m- fine I just, wanted to let you pick!”

“Who are you and where’s my Ken?” Yuka asked, teasing, watching as Ken’s face flushed red.

“I’m allowed to have matches that aren’t serious, Yuka.” She waved her off. “Pick a level already.”

“No you aren’t, you decided that you’re always going to play seriously until you’re the best.” She settled the cursor over Pokémon Stadium and began the match.

“Well I’m my own boss, so I take it back. I can let you pick casual rules sometimes.” She attacked at the air to test Dark Pit’s controls and range before Yuka crossed the distance to attack her, only to be met with a perfectly-timed block and counter.

“I told you that you don’t need to be so serious all the time, you’re doing just fine without Sheik.” Yuka didn’t notice any difference in how Ken could knock her into the air before backing off, pretending she didn’t notice that Ken deliberately stopped so she could get an attack or two in.

“Against you yeah, but other people- I mean, not that, uh….” Ken struggled to cover herself while also fighting.

“It’s fine, I know what you mean.” Yuka smiled and successfully knocked Dark Pit away from Rosalina so she could grab a beam sword – items on was the one rule Ken allowed without fuss about “tournament legality,” not that she ever used any of them.

It wasn’t unusual for Ken to really pull her punches in any game, but Yuka found it suspicious when Ken walked right into an attack she was charging rather than sidestepping. She followed it with a technique she’d seen before, throwing her item at Dark Pit to send him flying further, costing Ken a life.

The rest of the match passed in abnormal silence, save for Ken’s loud teeth-grinding as she focused much too hard on what she claimed was a casual match using a bad character. “Are you feeling okay?” Yuka asked when Ken reached her last of five stock, having only lost two herself.

“Huh? Yeah, just fine. I told you it’s just for fun, and Pit’s not that good. You’re already good with Rosalina so of course you’re doing better, right?” She spoke too quickly and explained too much, more than when she simply handicapped herself.

“Do you…want to play a different game?” Yuka asked. Ken might have been dissatisfied with Smash, but it didn’t cross Yuka’s mind that Ken didn’t want to play games at all because it was unthinkable. However, just playing a game at home shouldn’t have been enough to cause her so much distress.

“Nah, this one’s fine.” She shrugged and cancelled out of the victory screen when she lost, picking Hyrule Temple, another stage Yuka liked that Ken complained was too big for a one-on-one fight. “Why, did you wanna? We can play anything.”

“I’m okay with Smash. I don’t really play it when you’re not around, anyway.” She ran at Ken full force. “But if something is bothering you, you should tell me.”

“It’s nothin’.” She air dodged around Yuka’s side smash, but didn’t get out of the way in time for the follow-up attack. “Just thinking about stuff.”

“Is it important stuff?”

“Kinda.” Her jaw set as she ground her teeth again, getting thrown to the edge of the screen soon after.

“Really, tell me what’s up with you.” Yuka paused the game, and Ken pouted a little, crossing her arms.

“I don’t really know what to say….” She looked to the side and her face flushed.

“Try. Please?” Yuka set the controller down next to her to show she was serious about not playing until she’d heard what was bothering Ken so much, but all she did was mutter unintelligibly. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Ken repeated herself quickly and loudly, forcing it out before she could stop herself. “I like you!”

A blush grew on Yuka’s face as Ken’s became more apparent. They were quiet before Yuka asked, “You do?”

“Y- yeah.” She looked back at Yuka, staring directly at her in discomfort.

“Then….” Neither knew what to say, and didn’t want to turn a shaky situation into a disaster. “Well, what happens next?”

“Huh?” Ken was taken aback, expecting rejection and hoping for reciprocation, but hadn’t thought ahead. “Dunno. I, uh, didn’t really about it.”

“Then think about it now,” Yuka said, buying time for herself by abusing Ken’s lack of composure. “What next?”

Ken only looked at her, speechless, before her brow furrowed slightly in thought. “I guess you tell me how you feel.”

“What happens if I say no?” she asked, testing the waters.

Ken looked stricken, but told her, “Then you’re still my best friend.”

“I like you too, so what happens now?”

“Then I’d ask you- wait.” She dropped the controller she was still holding. “Wait you do?”

“Yep.” Yuka smiled, trying to not show how much she was leaping internally hearing Ken say this. She was sweating and her face was warm, but Ken was too panicked to notice. “Ask me what?”

“Uhh….” She swallowed and rubbed her palms on her jeans. “Do you wanna, maybe, uh, be my…” her voice got quieter, “girlfriend?”

“I do.” She was still deciding how to handle it gracefully when Ken launched herself to close the gap between them and pull her into a tight hug.

“That’s great!” She shook a little in excitement, and gave a light, happy laugh.

“Ken- I can’t breathe.” Yuka was just as happy she finally asked her out, but couldn’t return her hug if she didn’t let her go. Ken loosened her grip only enough that her lungs weren’t being crushed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked her, still holding on tightly.

“I did, I thought you weren’t interested.” Admittedly she’d only been dropping hints, but they seemed like blatant enough hints that even Ken should have picked them up.

“I thought that was all normal friend stuff!” She let go and sat back upright to look at Yuka, smiling impossibly widely. “But it’s normal girlfriend stuff now, right?”

“It is.” Yuka put her hands on Ken’s shoulders and, after steadying herself, moved in close to kiss her on the cheek. Blushing was a little embarrassing, but her own face couldn’t rival the deep red of Ken’s.

“Wh- what now?” Ken sounded unsure but her smile stayed. “Kinda weird to just go back to the game now, isn’t it?”

“Do you think it’s weird to play games with your girlfriend?” She hesitated at the new word, but it sounded amazing.

“Not if you don’t.” She got her more usual, confident grin back as she picked up her controller.

[coldtomyflash]

are you gonna write a coldflash fic with Savitar!Barry included? (i would trade my soul for it OMG) i SO look forward to your fics cuz you get their characteristics perfectly!

I don’t know yet ^^;

I like Savitar and want to explore him in writing, but I’m not sure what that would look like, plot-wise, or if it would be shorter one-shots. With Len still being dead and Savitar being dead as well, there’s some sidestepping of canon and backtracking to do, but more than that, there’s the more pressing question that needs to be addressed with Savitar: 

Where does he fit?

Because he has what I’m guessing is ~3 years worth of memories that Barry doesn’t have before he even became a remnant. That’s 3 years of enemies that he can take down because he’s already done this, not to mention however many timelines and alternate earths he’s been once he became the remnant Barry-S, broken off from Barry but not yet Savitar. And then his time as Savitar once he became what he is, with his intelligent suit that’s impervious to most attacks anyway.

So... he can’t stay with the team, obviously. There’s no challenge for them to face anyone anymore if he does, not to mention he’s like... 10x faster than Barry? 20x? 50x? And he clearly still has a lot of feelings about the team and especially about Iris, regardless of what he’s willing to do to them to ensure his own survival. A lot of shame there. A lot of anger and resentment, too. A lot of hate, maybe.

So any fic with him (with how I write) needs to address some of these factors, especially Savitar’s role if he stays alive in the present. Beyond that, he’s still from a timeline where Iris died, where he was created to stop the man that killed Iris, and then became the man that killed Iris and tried to kill her, believed he was killing her. 

None of that is simple to write around, at least not for me, unless I’m writing a complete AU where Savitar is Barry’s twin or something. That or a conceptual one-shot that doesn’t have a “plot” but is meant to convey an idea through a single cross-section splice. And I haven’t got any inspiration right now for fics of that nature that deal with Savy and Len (though Savy and the rest of the team, yes).

But, I do have a “Barry and Len from E6 fall into E1″ fic I started about a year ago and never finished, and I think if I ever do edit/fix and finish it, I could add more elements of Savitar!Barry into it... And I might right Savitar/Len, I just have to figure out what I would want it to look like, and that might happen if I get an idea of what I would want to Savitar’s role be.

(And oh, as soon as I typed that I realized a solution to half the problems would be to de-power him? Strip him of the speedforce as a means of keeping him in this dimension and not a paradox, somehow. Then he can’t fight all the villains for team Flash anyway, and obviously history is going differently than he remembers, so his consultations won’t be fully useful anyway. Hmm....)