#this room specifically. maybe this event happens very close in time to The Box 'cause that's the room they left off on

[d8tl55c]

@storgicdealer @thevalleyoftriumph

Cinnabon

[aminiatureworld]

Leaden Dreams

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,908

Warnings: Vague depictions of sleep paralysis

Premise: In which the reader experiences sleep paralysis

Author’s Note: First time writing Kazuha! I just finished his story quest today, so I hope that I have an okay grasp on him. Still working on his talking style a bit but I adore his personality.

Also though I experience the part of sleep paralysis where you’re awake but can’t move (can’t recommend the experience) it’s usually during the day so I don’t really experience dreams. As of such if this is inaccurate in any ways I’m very sorry.

Albedo

Albedo knew about sleep paralysis on a theoretically level, knew that it was a phenomenon that caused one’s brain to awaken when the body was still fast asleep. He’d never given the concept much thought, not any more than he might any other bit of science that remained shelved in his mind.

Now that was certainly not the case.

Albedo knew the telltale signs, the small spasms that revealed the battle between your mind and your body. Knowing that you were fighting to move your limbs, open your eyes, relax your jaw, he would always speak first, knowing that you might not immediately respond.

“It’s alright my dear, I’m here. I know it’s frightening, but I promise you’ll be able to move soon. Just focus on one thing, alright? Maybe your eyes this time, since last time you tried moving your tongue. That’s it, just one thing first. It’s always better to start small.”

He wouldn’t move from his sleeping position until you regained control of your body, afraid that a sudden touch might cause you even more distress. Keeping himself carefully pressed into the mattress he didn’t fare lift his head, for fear his face might melt into something frightening. Since he knew he was helpless, his goal became to stop things from getting worse.

The moment you began to move however the alchemist would jump into action. Turning lights on he would pick up the glass of water from his nightstand before gathering you up into his arms, positioning himself so you could listen to his heartbeat as you drank. The first time it had happened he had left the room to get the glass to soon, and the memory of you curled up desperately into the covers still tugged at him.

Albedo would then go through what you had half-dreamed with you, thoroughly debunking all the distortions of your normal life. That shadowed human outside the window was a combination of the balcony and the half opened curtains. The voices were partially his own, partially your brain trying to process your own breathing. The figure hiding behind the door of the hallway was because of the boxed piled along the other side of the wall. The people dancing on the ceiling could be fixed with a repaint. Over and over he would remind you of the fact that you were safe, that your amygdala was simply going into overdrive. Over and over he would thoroughly debunk your nightmares until once more things settled into place, piles of clothing becoming one more fabric, dressers no longer dancing as if possessed.

He would tell you to wake him up if he began falling back to sleep, determined that he should be watching over you to make sure an episode didn’t happen as you were falling back asleep.

In reality though you didn’t mind if he drifted off a little before you. His breathing was a soothing melody, his slow, steady heartbeat a rhythm with which you could anchor yourself. He was staid and sure, and that was something you grasped onto desperately, something you would never stop appreciating.

Soon enough his reasons would soothe your mind, and you’d fall once more asleep.

 Kazuha

The first thing Kazuha always did was pull the blankets over you. If the outside world was threatening you, then he’d simply block it out.

Making a cocoon around the two of you he would begin to tell stories. Fairy tales, things that had happened to him during his travels, anything that you brain might latch onto. The stories were always very short and self-contained, easy to understand, and through your panic addled brain you always seemed to find them.

Sometimes when things were particularly bad he’d softly cradled your hands, careful not to move to quickly or too suddenly in case the sensation caused you to panic even more.

“Our hands fit together so well, don’t you think? I could write a poem about them, or maybe about yours. Maybe you’ll help me with it after this is over? It will be soon dearest, I know it will.”

Sometimes he would sing little songs that he’d picked up. Usually sea shanties, their rhythm helped you, less complex than poetry, more lyrical than the jagged fear that screamed at you.

Kazuha wouldn’t ask you to share immediately. When you finally moved he would first squeeze your hands gently, kissing them before your forehead, asking if it was too hot beneath the blankets, then making sure a light was on if you needed a little fresh air.

He never acknowledged what had happened before you did, but he wouldn’t pretend like it didn’t happen either. Instead he would ask if you wanted to listen to a story or tell one. Whichever you chose he would keep holding your hands, making sure that even when he gave you space there was still something that grounded you.

Sometimes when you cried he would tell a very specific story.

“There once was a warrior, brave of heart. So brave were they that shadows tried to chase them. Someone this noble cannot exist! They cried out. The warrior must be false. We will find their weakness. However no matter how hard they tried this weakness was never found. For the warrior was truly brave in heart and soul.”

Normally you might consider such a story overdone, but in those liminal moments between fear and sleep the story format helped. This was simply a harrowing part of a story, but there would surely be a better end.

 Scaramouche

Scaramouche never thought that he’d ever sleep next to you.

Humans were loud and irritating, and that only became more true when the Harbinger was trying to get a few precious hours of sleep.

However after a particularly bad week he decided that the only solution to your terrible lack of attention was to deal with the matter himself.

He wasn’t necessarily nice about it, grumbling about your poor sleeping habits, saying that this was an awful waste of time. However the moment that panic consumed you, the moment that things started to twist around you, you felt a sudden hand on your arm.

“These idiotic phantoms are nothing. Come on, I know you’re strong enough. How could you ever let something so puny win against you.”

Though you certainly didn’t agree with him about that you had to admit it helped somewhat. Though your initial panic never disappeared, it became easier to climb out of your dreams, to see a light at the end of the endless tunnel of fear.

Every time you jerked once more awake Scaramouche let himself admit some sort of relieved satisfaction.

“You’ve done it again. As you always have. I don’t know why I bother sleeping here when you’re competent enough on your own.”

Nevertheless Scaramouche would always let you embrace him, not commenting on the tears that often accompanied you. Loosely resting his arms on your back he let out exaggerated breaths.

“Will you sleep now?”

It didn’t matter if you said no. Scaramouche would simply mutter something about bad sleep habits, but he would nevertheless stay awake.

He would always fall asleep last, even when his eyes burned slightly and his body called out for rest.

If he was going through all this trouble after all, he might as well see it through to the end.

 Xiao

Xiao saw dreams as extensions of human karma, of human wants and needs and wishes.

If a human dreamt a good wish, it was a revelation of their hearts desire. If they tossed and turned with nightmares it was their fears and shames manifesting. A dream was never just a dream, a shuffle of random events and names and faces. Dreams were alive; dreams had their own wills, all connected to the will of the human they were attached too.

Xiao loathed to see you haunted by your dreams. How could someone so wonderful as your be chased by something so awful? The little that you told your partner caused a distant sort of dread. He could never understand your fear of falling asleep, but he surely felt the dread of whether or not you might be allowed peace.

The threads that surrounded you, that surrounded all humans, always tensed when you were entering an episode. Careful not to leave your side too much Xiao would light a few candles, not too much to be jarring to your eyes, not too little to add to your nightmares. If you could only open your eyes then Xiao would pay even more attention, making sure that the dim lighting didn’t add to your distress, shifting the candles or blowing them out if need be.

Xiao didn’t talk much normally, but he would keep up a steady stream of questions in these moments, even if you couldn’t answer them. Whether you were aware of his presence, whether the window being open was a problem or not, whether you needed more light or less. He would keep these questions in the back of his mind for you to answer once you could again, not only so he could do better next time, but in case the nightmares we too close to be spoken about.

Usually Xiao would ask about them again in the morning, and sometimes you would discuss it then. Though the yaksha knew that nightmares were often the fears that humans accumulated, the curses that attached themselves to unsuspecting victims, he never talked about that aspect with you, indeed when he talked about it at all. Most of the time he would just listen, tracing soft circles along your back and down your arms.

Right after an episode Xiao would make his way over to you. Most of the time he would stay in one place while the episode was happening, near the candles or by the window, making sure he didn’t startle you anymore. Now though he might move every once in a while, or turn your head softly towards him if your eyes became fixated on one spot in the room. Always he’d go to open the window, and the familiarity of the routine became something that lulled you back into a sense of piece.

Not sleeping himself Xiao never told you that you need more rest, that you should go back to sleep. If you needed to stay up the rest of the night so be it, he would be there with you. If you were too tired and found yourself drifting off to sleep he would promise to protect you, to fight off any demons that might be lurking.

Sometimes Xiao feared that his burden of curses exacerbated your sleep paralysis. Those evenings he would wait for you to sleep before slipping away. Always he would leave his sleeve and his mask, making sure that if you woke up you would still have something of his presence to comfort or protect yourself with. Those nights he would stare out into Liyue and think about all the things that he carried with him, all the things that you did too.

Regardless of those nights he would be there in the morning.

“Did you sleep well afterwards?” He would always ask. Regardless of your answer, which he would surely pay attention to after his second question, he would stare into your eyes.

“Do you think things would be easier without my presence?”

Always you said no.

[miracleonice87]

Secret

a Mathew Barzal one shot

a/n: and here it is! the recent news-inspired secret baby fic. Huge thanks to all who reached out and encouraged me to write it and to those who gave me ideas and advice. completely fictitious timeline and hockey-related events here, and we’re pretending the pandemic is not a thing in this one.

summary: Mat Barzal and his longtime girlfriend welcome their first baby after keeping her pregnancy well-hidden from the public eye.

warnings: morning sickness and childbirth (nothing graphic or detailed). dad Barzy, which deserves a warning. swearing. super fluff.

_____

Never in your life did you imagine that you would be attempting to conceal your first pregnancy — or any pregnancy — from members of the media.

Then again, you never could have predicted that you would end up being the long-term girlfriend of one of the most recognizable figures in the National Hockey League, and, more specifically, on the New York City sports scene. But if there’s one thing you had learned over the course of your more than four-year relationship, it was that life is full of the unexpected.

Currently, that aforementioned figure was whipping his car as quickly as possible into a private parking area at New York Presbyterian, glancing at you every ten seconds as you breathed through the early stages of labor with your firstborn baby, your water having broken just as you and Mat were settling in for sleep around midnight.

Only a small, select group of people knew that you and Mat were expecting, and as you checked in to the maternity ward just before one o’clock in the morning, you were grateful that there were very few people around you. You were hurried to your private room, Mat faithfully carrying your bags and nearly stepping on the heels of the poor nurse pushing your wheelchair, refusing to let you out of his sight for even a second.

Only once you were settled into bed, changed into a most unflattering hospital gown, hooked up to several monitors, and examined, did you allow yourself to look up at Mat and announce your practically inevitable victory.

“As long as that nurse doesn’t moonlight as a reporter, I think we did it,” you ventured with an incredulous chuckle. Mat shook his head in disbelief as he stood next to your bed, holding one of your hands in both of his.

“Don’t wanna speak too soon, but yeah, I think we did,” he agreed. “I can’t believe we managed to keep this a secret.”

_____

Six weeks

It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d ever had your head hanging above a toilet bowl on New Year’s Day.

But it sure as hell was the first time it had ever happened when you had no hangover to speak of.

In fact, you’d only had two sips of champagne the previous night before you felt weirdly dizzy and passed out in bed watching the Isles battle the Bruins.

The next thing you knew, you were being gently roused from deep sleep by your boyfriend, whose brow was creased with concern as he leaned over you.

“Sweetheart?” Mat spoke softly when you finally opened your eyes, his fingers smoothing your hair against your heavy head. “You okay?”

You inhaled deeply, feeling completely off. “Yeah... yeah,” you insisted softly. “What time is it?” you asked, discombobulated.

“It’s almost midnight,” Mat answered. “How long have you been sleeping?”

You slowly pushed yourself up on your elbows in bed. “Uh... I don’t know,” you admitted. “I watched the first period... I think.”

That wasn’t like you, and Mat knew it. A lifelong hockey fan, you kept close tabs on not only Mat and the Islanders, but the scores from around the entire league each night. Coming from a hockey-loving family, watching highlights on NHL Network was your late night routine. On top of that, you looked flushed to him, and dark circles hung around your eyes, a rarity for you except when you were ill.

“Baby... are you sick?” Mat shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed and quickly taking a seat next to you on the edge of the mattress. He put the back of his hand to your forehead and studied you carefully. “You don’t feel fevered.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a cold,” you replied, remembering the strange feeling that had overcome you when you sipped your champagne earlier. “I do feel kinda dizzy... nauseous.”

Mat nodded, eyes still full of worry. “Maybe you’re getting the flu,” he suggested. “That’s been going around lately.” You nodded too, yawning.

“Well, listen,” Mat continued, motioning for you to lie back as he pulled the covers over you again. “Go back to sleep, and tomorrow if you still aren’t feeling well, I’ll run to the pharmacy and get you some medicine and stuff. Okay?”

You nodded again, overcome once more by exhaustion as you settled back into your bed. “Okay,” you whispered. “Thanks, babe. Hey, did you win?”

Mat smiled. “Yeah, baby, we won. Now get some rest. I love you, sweet girl,” he said, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.

“I love you, Maty,” you breathed. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your bottom lip slowly as you immediately drifted back to sleep.

And now here you were, seven hours later, heaving into the toilet as Mat dropped to his knees behind you on the tile, gathering your long hair into his hands as quickly as possible.

“Oh, honey,” he groaned, rubbing your back. “You poor thing.”

After flushing the toilet several times to get rid of the contents, you finally sat upright, cautiously, slowly.

“God, I feel like shit,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your forehead as Mat ran his hands back and forth down your legs, trying to soothe you.

“I can tell,” he said sadly, standing. You looked up at him helplessly as he said, “I’m gonna go get you flu meds from the pharmacy. Let me just get dressed.”

You nodded once, feeling too lightheaded to move your head any more than that. You didn’t budge from your place on the floor as Mat took his robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around your shoulders, kissing the crown of your head before exiting the bathroom. You heard him shuffling around in his drawers as you closed your eyes, willing the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach to cease.

Moments later, Mat called out to you from the bedroom.

“Do you need anything else from the drugstore while I’m there, baby?”

You opened your eyes to glance around the bathroom, trying to keep your head as still as possible. You saw toothpaste, Tylenol, and... did you have enough tampons?

You reached next to you to open the drawer that held your monthly supplies, and you were surprised to find two boxes of tampons, not even opened, along with a plethora of pads and liners.

Finally, it hit you like a crashing wave. Suddenly, your world started spinning, and it wasn’t because of the nausea.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, slamming the drawer shut.

“Maty...” you called out hoarsely, causing him to rush back toward the bathroom. Your heart was racing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously as he appeared in the doorway, ready to take up residence on the floor with you again if necessary.

You bit your bottom lip and inhaled a shaky breath before answering, sounding much more calm than you felt.

“I need you to buy me a test,” you said matter-of-factly.

At first, Mat wore a blank expression. “What kinda te— wait…” he said as you watched the wheels turning in his head. You couldn’t help but allow a small smile to spread across your lips as the realization hit him, too. He froze, mouth slightly agape, wide eyes searching yours to try and determine whether you were serious. Reading him, you nodded, which caused his eyes to widen even further.

“A pregnancy test,” you confirmed in a shaky voice.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered familiarly, his own smile beginning to play on his lips.

_____

“That was Liana,” Mat said, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his sweats after ending the brief call. “She’s catching a flight in the morning.”

You nodded gratefully as Mat returned to your side, dutifully grabbing your hand and running his other over your rounded stomach.

“She said to tell you she loves you, and baby, too,” he added with a warm grin. “And that she—“

Mat stopped short the second he heard you groan softly, the smile you’d worn upon hearing Liana’s name having morphed quickly into a wince.

“Another contraction?” Mat asked, hastily pulling the stool by the bed closer and taking a seat.

“Mhm,” you confirmed tightly, rolling on your side to look into his eyes, seeking a diversion. The pain in your face absolutely shattered Mat’s heart. He despised how helpless he felt watching you.

“Just look at me. Breathe, baby,” Mat coached before breathing in and out just as your Lamaze instructor had taught you both, nodding his head to urge you to mimic him. You did your best, squeezing his big hand hard enough that Mat saw his fingertips turning white, though he was too smart and too concerned with your labor pains to point that out.

“Good girl. Breathe, sweetheart. Good girl,” Mat encouraged. “That’s my girl,” he added softly, lightly dragging his fingernails along your scalp, combing his hand through your hair, in an attempt to comfort you.

“I seriously hate you right now,” you spat between pants and gasps. “You did this to me.”

Though he tried to hold back, a breathy laugh passed through Mat’s nose. “Yeah, my mom warned me you might say that,” he told you. “I’d hate me right now, too,” he added, running his fingers along your forearm lightly as you grimaced in agony.

Finally, your muscles relaxed as the contraction passed. Your face softened and your eyes fluttered open to see Mat staring at you intently, concern etched into his gorgeous features. You reached out your hand to run a thumb over his strong jaw.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, giving him your best smile as you caught your breath.

Mat nodded. “I just hate seeing you hurting,” he whispered back. You gave him an understanding look and then grinned brightly.

“But it’s gonna be worth it,” you assured, making Mat’s eyes light up. He kissed your palm and you asked, “Now what else did Liana say? Distract me.”

With a smile, Mat said, “That she can’t wait to meet this little one.” He leaned his head forward to kiss your belly sweetly as you smiled softly, leaning back against the mattress to rest up momentarily before the next wave, as the memory of telling Liana the news months ago came to mind.

_____

Twelve weeks

Your phone buzzed on the dining room table, vibrating against the glass top. Normally, you would never answer a call during a Valentine’s Day dinner with Mat, even at home, but these particular circumstances allowed for an exception.

“It’s Liana,” you smirked, swiping to answer the FaceTime call as Mat muttered, “Nice of her to call you and not her own brother.”

You ignored his complaint and smiled at the woman who was basically your sister-in-law.

“Hi, Li,” you said happily. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Liana didn’t even let you finish your greeting before she asked hurriedly, “What the fuck is going on?”

Mat leaned closer into you in order to be included in the camera’s view. “That’s rude,” he chirped, trying to sound angry, but being betrayed by the smirk twitching at his pink lips.

“No, seriously, you guys,” Liana continued, sounding anxious. “What does this mean?” She lifted the card from the full bouquet of blush pink roses before her. “‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Li,’” she read. “‘We’re so excited to give you another member of the family to love this August.’  And it’s signed from you guys and ‘Baby B...’”

Liana’s eyes flicked back up to your own and she couldn’t stand still, pacing her kitchen. “It’s not funny to joke about this,” she insisted, sounding confused and slightly offended.

“It isn’t a joke, dude,” Mat giggled. “We’re having a baby.”

Liana started screaming after “having.”

Laughter racked your body as you watched her jump up and down, tears streaming down her face as she squealed and asked a dozen times whether you were serious. You nodded each time until her hysteria finally subsided.

“Do Mom and Dad know?” Liana asked with a quaking voice, wiping the dampness from her cheeks.

“Yeah, they know,” you confirmed, swiping at a couple of your own fallen tears. Damn hormones.

“But listen, Liana,” Mat interjected, putting on his most serious tone. “They know, and her family knows, but past that, we haven’t told a soul. We honestly might not tell anyone else, depending on how soon she starts to show. We don’t want crazy fans or, God forbid, the media to get ahold of it and just be intrusive. We’ve seen how that goes. We just want this to be as private as possible. So you can’t post anything, can’t tell any of your friends. Okay?”

Liana nodded, sniffling throughout her brother’s command. “Yeah, totally,” she immediately concurred. “I get it. I think you guys are smart for doing it this way. This is like Kylie Jenner shit.”

You and Mat both snickered at that comparison for multiple reasons, then Liana began truly processing the news.

“Wait... so,” she began. “How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you replied. “So barring anything out of the ordinary, that kind of means we’re in the clear, risk-wise.”

“And you’re okay? Everything is okay?” Liana asked nervously.

Mat nodded, appreciating his little sister’s obvious concern for you and the baby. “She’s okay, Liana,” he assured as you smiled at him. “She’s perfect,” he added, picking up your hand to press a kiss to your fingers, causing Liana to tear up once again.

“You better take such good fucking care of her, Mat. You hear me? She doesn’t have her mom or any of us nearby, so she needs you,” Liana said firmly to her brother. You warmed at her display of womanly solidarity, ever thankful to have an ally in her.

Mat rolled his eyes. “Yes, Liana, I’ve been taking care of her for years,” he said, unamused.

“Yeah, well, it’s different now,” Liana pointed out. “Now she’s carrying my niece or nephew!”

You and Mat grinned at each other once more, Mat rubbing his hand slowly across your lower belly, which was mostly still flat, save for a slight, bloated curve.

“Yeah, she is,” Mat said airily, gazing into your blue eyes deeply as his sister resumed her squealing in the background.

_____

“Can I please have more ice chips?” you asked as you came down from yet another contraction, sounding whinier than you meant to and slightly hating yourself for it.

Mat smiled warmly down at you, pushing some of your hair back from your forehead and tenderly placing a kiss to your temple.

“Yes. You get all the ice chips you want, sweet girl,” Mat cooed, nuzzling his nose in your hair before stepping back and winking at you, grabbing the ice bucket from the bedside table. If there was one thing you had enjoyed most about the experience of pregnancy and labor, it was the way Mat spoiled you, ever attentive to your needs and wants. “I’ll be right back. Don’t have that baby while I’m gone,” he instructed, pointing at you.

Despite the discomfort you felt, you still breathed a laugh and rolled your eyes at him, Mat positively beaming at you as he walked backwards out of your suite, then turned down the hall.

As you rested your hands against your belly and your head back on the pillow, spotting the big bouquet of flowers Tito had sent for you, another memory from the past several months flashed in your mind.

_____

Twenty weeks

“I’m sorry,” Tito choked out once he stopped coughing on the Easter ham you’d made for a small group of the Isles boys, who had just begun playoffs and therefore weren’t traveling for the holiday, and their significant others. “You’re what?!”

You and Mat giggled, Mat squeezing your thigh under the table reassuringly. Sydney, late in her own pregnancy, jumped from her seat, tears springing to her eyes, and squealed as she ran to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders as you sat grinning at the others — Tito, Marty, Anders, Grace, Josh, and Meg — whose mouths hung open as they tried to process your announcement.

You turned back to Mat, the same broad smile seemingly permanently plastered on his handsome features the past few months stretching across his face once again.

“You wanna show them?” he asked softly, the tone in his voice telling you the decision was yours completely. You nodded, grasping the fabric of your knit sweater, the same casually chic, baggy style that you’d stocked up on to hide your growing stomach.

Sydney let go of you, allowing you to stand from your chair, as she nearly shouted, “What do you mean, show us?! How pregnant are you?!”

You bit your bottom lip, still smiling from ear to ear, and turned sideways, lifting your sweater to reveal your noticeable, ever-rounding bump beneath your high-waisted leggings.

A collective gasp sucked the oxygen from the room, Mat smirking at your friends, as you quietly admitted, “I’m twenty weeks...”

Tito pounded a fist to the table in disbelief and let out a holler. Anders raised his own fists over his head so fast that he knocked off the black baseball cap he wore. Josh and Marty couldn’t stop yelling, “No!” and “No fucking way,” respectively. Meg and Grace immediately leapt to their feet, too. “You’re halfway?!” they shouted in unison.

All Mat could do was beam proudly at you, bringing your waist close as he pressed a reverent, chaste kiss to your stomach over your sweater.

“Surprise!” you sang softly to the onlookers, your voice watery as a couple of happy tears escaped your eyes. The girls all embraced you, taking turns rubbing your belly, as the guys uttered boyish praises to Mat, joking that they didn’t know he had it in him.

Besides your and Mat’s parents and siblings, you still hadn’t told any friends of your pregnancy — making this sacred time that much more special for you and Mat.

But it was time to tell this circle. It had gotten more and more difficult and complicated to refuse drinks when the wives and girlfriends met for brunch, and even Mat was struggling to come up with excuses for why he wanted to rush home from the arena when the rest of the guys his age wanted to go to the bar to celebrate big wins. This close-knit group knowing the truth would help combat that.

You certainly didn’t plan to tell the whole team — quite frankly, there were some recently-added guys you just didn’t know well enough yet, along with some newer girlfriends who seemed a little suspect when it came to keeping team matters close to the vest. You and Mat agreed that you’d tell your close group of Isles friends and leave it at that. And that group, this group, these friends who had become much more like family — these felt like the right people to let in on the secret.

_____

“I’m scared,” you whimpered. “I don’t know if I can do it.” The pain was excruciating now, the pressure was building, and your doctor had just informed you that it was time to push. You felt like crying, but you were so paralyzed by the fear that gripped your chest that no tears were flowing.

“Hey…” Mat began softly, gently taking your face in both of his hands and angling it to look up at him, his eyes radiating confidence and pride. “Listen to me, okay? You’ve been so strong throughout this whole pregnancy. I know better than to believe that that’s gonna end now. You can do this, my love. I know you can,” he encouraged. “And I’ll be right here the whole time.”

You nodded, still feeling completely unprepared but somehow strengthened by Mat’s faith in you. As the doctor approached, gowned and gloved, she looked at you with anticipation.

“You ready, sweetie?” she asked. With one last look up at Mat, who nodded and kissed your knuckles, you turned back to her with a nod of your own. She patted your knee and said, “Okay, let’s have a baby. On the count of three, I want you to push, just the way we talked about. Daddy, you hold this knee. Ready? One… two… three… push.”

_____

Twenty-three weeks

The Isles had lost in the second round of the playoffs. Mat was obviously disappointed, but he was also more excited for this offseason than he’d ever been for a summer before, which certainly softened the blow. You were having his baby in just three more months, and he absolutely could not wait. Mat was ready to commence full dad mode — getting the nursery ready, reading the books, and most importantly, keeping a close eye on you every moment that he could.

On the same day the guys were cleaning out their lockers and giving final interviews following the end of the playoff series loss, Mat had scheduled a meeting with the coaching staff and team public relations executives to inform them of your pregnancy. He wanted them to be aware of the situation in case the news got out before the birth, especially as your baby bump was getting harder to hide. Since the two of you had decided to stay in New York for the summer instead of returning to British Columbia, to avoid travel late in your pregnancy, he knew that the chances of someone spotting your round stomach and starting to talk about it was higher on Long Island than in Coquitlam. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the news got out, but if you and Mat could help it, you’d much prefer that it didn’t. He wanted this experience to be peaceful for you and as enjoyable as possible.

The meeting had gone well, which was unsurprising. The staff was thrilled for the two of you and promised to keep a tight lid on the information until you were ready to share it publicly after the baby had been born — they also agreed to evade any questions that their office might encounter on the topic during the summer.

Mat had thanked them profusely and said his goodbyes before leaving the building, heaving his heavy equipment bags into his trunk, and heading back home to you. A few minutes later, his phone dinged with a text from you and he glanced down at it at the next stoplight. It was a photo of the two of you in front of Big Ben on a rare sunny day in England, Mat hugging you close to his chest.

“This just popped up in my memories. Four years ago today we were in London and you told me you loved me for the first time. Look at us now. 💋”

Mat grinned at the message before returning the phone to his cupholder, his mind traveling back in time to that first big vacation the two of you had taken together. He knew your affinity for English culture — the fashion, the history, and, of course, the royal family, so he decided to take you on a trip across the pond a couple of months after you started dating.

It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made, as it brought the two of you much closer in those early days of your relationship — so close, in fact, that he found himself professing his love for you over a candlelight dinner on your last night in London. You had frozen, just for a moment, before a broad smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling.

“I love you, too, Maty,” you’d said softly, allowing Mat to finally exhale as he basked in the knowledge that you felt the same way as he.

London was a landmark in your love story. Mat blinked a few times at that thought, an idea suddenly coming over him.

London…

_____

London Riley Barzal, named for the city where you fell in love and given your current last name as a middle name, was born August 15 at 8:13 p.m., after twenty hours of labor.

You and Mat had never known a love like the one you found the moment your baby girl was laid on your chest, and he had never been more fiercely in love with you than he was as he watched you snuggle her close.

“God, she’s so beautiful,” Mat breathed, voice quivering as he realized that this tiny girl belonged to him — to both of you.

“She’s perfect. Just perfect,” you agreed as her strong cries suddenly quieted into small whimpers.

Immediately, Mat looked you in the eye. “She knows your voice,” he said in astonishment.

As your baby blinked and squinted before opening her eyes for the very first time, she seemed to look directly up at her daddy. You smiled knowingly at Mat, who was frozen in place as he locked eyes with his baby daughter for the first time.

“I think she knows yours, too,” you suggested, the two of you smoothing your fingertips over her tiny face and hands in wonder.

You spent several minutes soaking it all in as a brand new family of three, both talking to London softly and placing kisses on her tiny head, before the nurse took her from your arms to take her vitals and give her a brief exam.

As you watched your healthy, gorgeous baby being fawned over by the medical team, you breathed a deep sigh of relief and a silent prayer of gratitude before opening your eyes again to see the love of your life staring down at you in absolute amazement.

“You did so good, baby,” Mat said through tears of pure joy. He pressed his lips to your damp forehead, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You did so good. You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m so goddamn proud of you,” he praised.

“We have a baby, Maty,” you said with an awestruck, tearful chuckle. “I just had our baby.”

Mat nodded, grinning. “We have a daughter, my love,” he said. “Our little London.”

_____

One week later…

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Ateez: They Get Jealous When You're Close With Another Member

Kim Hongjoong:

Out of all the members, you seemed to have bonded with Seonghwa the most. You both had a weird obsession with organization and cleanliness. Hongjoong didn't mind at first, after all, you were friends with all of them. But he didn't want to simply be your friend. He wanted to be yours and vice versa.

Looking over at you one day, he decided he needed to take action. You were currently in the kitchen with Seonghwa, laughing and talking while preparing dinner. He came inside and offered to help you two. Normally, he'd just quietly watch you two, to nervous to say anything. But he realized if he wanted to get closer to you, he needed to make himself more known. Which is why he joined in your conversation, being more talkative than usual, which surprised you.

Seonghwa could sense what was going on and wanting to support his friend, he started talking less, letting you two talk more. Eventually he walked out of the kitchen unbeknownst to you, but he made sure to give a thumbs up to Hongjoong before going to his room. Hongjoong used the opportunity to be more bold and flirty with you, saying cheesy things or brushing his fingers against yours very faintly. He wouldn't confess right then and there to you, but he was definitely making progress. His goal was you and there was nothing stopping him from achieving it.

Park Seonghwa:

Seonghwa usually tried to keep his jealousy low. After all, you've only been dating for a couple of weeks. Still, sometimes he couldn't help but feel a knot in his throat when you were playing with his members, or more specifically, Yunho. He knew he had nothing to worry about. You only saw Yunho as a brother and the little affections he showed you were completely innocent.

Still.....one day he couldn't handle it. Walking up behind the taller male, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders and looked back and forth between you two.

"Yunho-shii, I know you don't mean anything bad, but please tone it down with the affection towards Y/N. Got it?" His voice was calm, but you could feel the tension in it.

Wanting to lighten up the atmosphere, Yunho smiled. "Awww I'm sorry Hyung. I didn't mean to make you jealous. Don't worry, you can get some kisses too."

Grabbing Seonghwa's hand, he brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on them, making the older male cringe slightly.

"Just don't push it." He warned him.

Jeong Yunho:

The first thing that attracted Yunho to you was the fact both of you loved video games. It was how you two bonded. You would play video games together, chit chat, eat snacks and overall have an amazing time together. So of course he fell for you, but was afraid to tell you in case he ruined your friendship.

The problem arose when Yeosang started hanging around you two more than he liked. You and Yeosang had a more similar sense of humor, so of course you two ended up talking more. Yunho felt like he was being pushed to the back, invisible to you. So now video games with you were filled with misery instead of joy.

You noticed he was down one day, but he refused to say anything. Yeosang however, had no filter and decided to speak up for him.

"Just tell Y/N you like them and be done with it. I'll even leave so you two can talk."

Yunho was frozen, watching as Yeosang left him there with you like that. He looked at you, his face red as a cherry, then looked back down, too stunned to look at you. He only looked up when he felt you hug him tightly, with a smile on your face, which he happily returned.

Kang Yeosang:

Yeosang is more reserved and has a hard time expressing himself, especially when it came to you. He was shy and afraid to scare you off with his blunt and straightforward nature. Although he wasn't surprised to see you get along better with San, it angered him that he couldn't be the same way to you.

It frustrated him to the point sometimes he was passive aggressive towards San, and sometimes hostile. Didn't take long for San to realize what was going on and he decided to sit down for a talk with him.

"Look, yes Y/N and are close, but we're just friends. So please cut the passive aggressiveness. " San explained.

Yeosang simply nodded, somewhat ashamed of his behavior.

"I'm sorry. I just really like them.....but I don't know how to get close to them like you. I want to make them like me." Yeosang confessed.

San patted his friend's back and looked at him with a mischievous smirk.

"Lucky for you, I happen to be in expert in what Y/N likes. So want to know a few things?" He raised his eyebrows, happy to play matchmaker.

Choi San:

Dating San for roughly around half a year, you started to pick up on his little habits and antics. So how did you know he was being jealous lately? Simple. Every time Mingi would get too close to you, you'd always feel San's arms wrap around your waist from behind, his face hiding on your neck. If Mingi was sitting a little too close for his liking, San's hand would rest on your lap. If Mingi tackled you into a bear hug or cuddled you for too long, he was a pouting mess and often became sulky.

Recently, he started kicking things up a notch. Whenever Mingi even remotely approached you, San would be dragging you away, using any and every excuse he could whip out to have your undivided attention. You let this go on, to see how far he'd go, until one day you decided to talk to him.

"Are you jealous of Mingi?"

"Me? Jealous? Pfft. No. What makes you think that?" He tried playing it off.

You could only roll your eyes before cupping his cheeks and looking him straight in the eyes.

"Just know I love you and there's no one else but you for me ok?"

San smiled happily at that. With those words, you made him feel more secure in the relationship.

Song Mingi:

From the beginning, Mingi called dibs on you. His members only laughed at him, but decided to see how that was going to play out. But of course, they were friendly to you cause it was just in their nature. Plus they were all cuddle bugs, so more often than not, you ended up squished in a pile of love, lead mainly by Wooyoung. He was tiny, but he had a lot of love to give, and you always accepted it, no questions.

Mingi didn't like that at all. He only glared at Wooyoung every time he was all over you. He secretly wanted to set him on fire. Wooyoung of course noticed this and would purposefully increase his level of affection, not to piss off Mingi, although it was funny, but more to make him actually make a move on you. But Mingi didn't get it, and it just resulted in a tiny argument.

"I told you I called dibs!"

"But you don't do anything! I even tried to make you more jealous just so you'd man up and confess!" Wooyoung finally told him.

"Oh.....so you did that on purpose?" Mingi asked.

"Duh! Now grow some balls and ask them out before I tell them myself."

Jung Wooyoung:

Wooyoung had absolutely no shame in displaying how he felt. So he had no qualms about showing when he was jealous, often in the form of petty comments, snarky replies and just overall being in a foul mood.

The most recent event of his jealousy happened when he felt you were paying too much attention to Jongho. It never failed to amaze you how strong the maknae was. He was like a mini hulk, and of course, you always liked feeling his muscles. Wooyoung just stared at you two each time and when you guys went home, the rest of the day was filled with his petty comments.

"Wooyoung I can't carry this box, can you help me?" You asked him one night.

"Oh me? Wouldn't you rather have Jongho help? Since he's sooo stroong?" He made it a point to drag out the last two words.

"Ok, you know what? If you're going to be petty and jealous, maybe I will call Jongho and ask him to help." You snapped back.

Before you could even finish the sentence, he was already picking up the box.

"No need. That's what you got me for."

Choi Jongho:

Having had no prior dating experience, Jongho wasn't the best at approaching you, let alone giving you hints that he liked you. So he often just stayed quietly in the back, admiring you.

He started to feel threatened by Hongjoong, who easily conversed with you like you were old time friends. Not only was Hongjoong closer in age to you (A/N: ignore if it doesn't apply to you), but you guys had similar taste in music, which was the topic you often talked about, for hours at times. So really Jongho felt like he had no chance with you. That is until Hongjoong himself talked to him, explaining how you two are just friends and giving him advice on how to approach you, what you like.

The maknae listened very well to his leader's advice and soon he was getting closer and closer to you. When he felt enough time had passed, he asked you to listen to a song with him. He specifically picked one that perfectly reflected his feelings for you, and he even sang part of the song, looking right at you as he did. When the song finished, he asked for your opinion before confessing with a shy smile that he liked you.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[mischiefthedreamerx]

To Never Give Up

Summary: By mistake, Loki takes a portal leading him to New Asgard, where he meets Thor who is broken & hopeless after the events of Infinity War. Thor is given some closure and Loki can finally say goodbye.

Pairing: Loki x Sylvie implied.

A/N: Idk how Loki ends up in New Asgard in but that's irrelevant. Towards the end I kind of lost inspiration & ideas so it flopped a bit but I wanted to finish it.

Word Count: 3k

- - - - - - - -

Loki landed ungracefully with a loud 'thud' against a hard cold floor. As he lay down in his new surroundings, the awful smell of the room hit him first, making him scrunch up his nose. Getting up to his feet with an exhausted sigh, he took in the room. It was small, dull and unkempt. Only a slither of light broke through the closed curtains. Empty food packets and cans of alcohol littered the table and wooden floor. Loki saw some controls with wires connecting to a thin rectangular box next to a TV. The stoned-wall room looked abandoned, claustrophobic. How could anyone possible live here? Blankets lay over a gloomy sofa as if someone was sleeping on it too.

Loki cautiously walked around the room for any sign of life, avoiding treading on the litter or touching anything for that matter. He thought whoever lived here would probably not be much of a threat. Outside, he heard the sound of birds squawking and ocean waves.

The next thing he heard was a sudden high pitch creaking sound of a door opening. Loki conjured up a small dagger, eyes narrowing to the direction of the sound. Someone was home. The door closed and within seconds, the resident appeared in front of the room.

Loki’s dagger fell to the floor as he froze in place. He stared openly, wide eyed, trying to process who this heavy figure was. The figure in turn dropped a white plastic bag of food.

"Thor..?” Loki gasped in horror. His brother wore a grubby white t-shirt and a knitted cardigan, hair long and tangled. At first, Loki wasn't even sure it was Thor.

Thor mumbled out a bunch of incoherent sounds before managing to form actual words. "Loki..? Loki! You're alive!" He let out a laugh as he pulled his brother into a tight hug.

Loki was left speechless. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, hesitantly placing an arm around Thor to return the embrace. A warmth spread through him. Loki did not wish to let go though Thor eventually did.

A bright smile crossed his lips. “You bastard! You had me fooled there, thinking you'd actually died again! And for good this time. You truly are quite the trickster, brother. " The laughter continued as he pat Loki on the back.

Loki swallowed. "Thor..I'm.." His stomach ached at the thought of telling Thor the truth. "I'm not from this timeline." He guessed since Thor was not on Asgard that their home had been destroyed on this timeline by Ragnarok and Thanos had attacked. Loki placed a hand on Thor's shoulder. "I'm not your Loki." He said softly.

"Wait..this isn't another one of your silly little tricks, right?" He kept up his smile despite the uncertainty in his gaze.

Loki raised both hands in an attempt to calm his brother. "Thor. I need you to listen to me."

But he did exactly the opposite. "Please come in! Excuse the mess. I-i wasn't expecting visitors. Not that I, er, getting any.." Thor mumbled as he hurried in, removing any litter from the sofa and tidying the blankets. Loki turned to watch Thor helplessly, unable to move from his spot. He sucked in a heavy sigh. "Have a seat." Thor spoke.

Loki forced away the numbness in his limps and slowly sat down. "Thor, please. Just listen to me." He said in despair.

"Right. Of course." Thor muttered, siting himself down.

"What year is this?" Loki asked.

"Um.." Thor frowned, scratching himself. "2023."

"I've come from the year 2012." Loki explained. Thor stilled frowned.

"This isn't a joke is it?" His little piece of happiness faltered.

Loki shook his head, a pained smile reached his lips. "I wish it was."

Any trace of a smile left Thor completely. "So.. you're from another timeline..which means.." He sniffed. "..you're still.."

"Dead." Loki said. "Your Loki is dead." Loki felt a heaviness in his chest. Dead.

Thor wrapped his cardigan around himself. "Then why are you here?"

Loki took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's a very long story. I took a portal and by chance it lead me here. To you." His gaze met Thor's. There was no sign of that prideful hero left in those empty eyes. Nothing that once resembled a would be King of Asgard, a saviour to many. Loki wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell Thor about the whole TVA situation either.

“How come you’re alive?” Thor asked.

“After New York, I escaped with the Tesseract. I’ve seen a lot..I saw the events that happened to my future, from the Dark Elves to Ragnarok and the attack by Tha—“

“No. We don’t say that name here.” Thor choked out, cutting Loki off.

Loki nodded. Thor had lost everything and so had Loki too, though in return he found Mobius and Sylvie to help with the loss of his family but Thor was alone. Not even the avengers came to visit him from the sound of it. Loki fought the urge to let his fingers curl into fists.

"Sorry." Loki apologised. "So this is your new..home?" His eyes scanned the living room.

Thor fumbled with his fingers. "It's not much. After the..well, you know, the humans were kind enough to offer us this village. It's a bit fishy but it's all we've got. They even gave us a sign too." Thor forced on a smile. "It's not quite like home." He looked down at his lap.

"Asgard is not a place." Loki said.

"It's a people." Thor said quietly, finishing off the common saying amongst the Asgardians.

Loki knew he should not stay too long, it would only hurt Thor more when he left but maybe this was what they both needed despite not being from the same timeline. Loki told himself to go. Was it selfish to stay for a little while longer? Maybe this was meant to happen?

"Why don't you show me around this new kingdom of yours?" Loki suggested with genuine smile.

"No, I don't really go out much."

Loki stood up. If he was going to stay for a while, he wasn’t willing to be confined in this depressing room. "Well I'll just go ahead on my own, if you don't mind?" He smirked. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

Thor scrambled up to his feet. "I don't think that a good idea. You're suppose to be dead, they'll see you."

Loki chuckled. "No they won't. You still underestimate me, brother."

- - - - - - -

Loki concealed his presence from anyone nearby, though it wasn't too busy, some had gone out on their boats. They both walked along the pier, Loki had conjured up a black coat due to the weather. The sky was hidden behind grey clouds, as a breeze swept across the ocean. Rays of sunlight managed to break through occasionally. Thor briefly spoke about their job with trading and catching fish for nearby villages in this place called 'Scotland'.

After about half an hour of wandering along the pier, they both stood on a hill overlooking the coast and houses of New Asgard. Thor bent down, placing in hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me. The exercise will do me some good." He said sucking in the ocean air before standing up straight, stretching his back. Loki gave him a moment to steady his breathing back to normal.

"So what are your daily king duties on this fine and wonderful kingdom?" Loki asked in light humour.

Thor scratched his brow in thought. "You know, king stuff, the usual. It's not like I stay inside all day shouting at a bunch of fools on a screen."

"Sounds..exciting." Loki said flatly.

"What about you? Causing chaos wherever you go?"

Loki thought of his words carefully, there was no need for Thor to know all the specifics when he already had enough to deal with.

"Something like that." He smiled. Chaos was too much of a small word to describe what he had gone through. "I've been protecting the sacred timeline." Loki joked with enthusiasm.

Thor frowned but did not question it. "Oh, yeah? And how's that going?”

Loki's facial features tightened. "Marvellous.”

Thor did not have the effort to ask Loki to expand on his response, he probably thought Loki was lying but it did not matter to him.

They both stood together watching the ocean. Loki closed his eyes, tipping his head back as he let the breeze blow against him, prolonging their time together. There was something about the ocean that brought him a sense of calmness. As Loki's eyes remained close, Thor turned to look at his brother who appeared to be so at peace, a feeling Thor had rarely often seen Loki experience.

"You've changed." Thor said absentmindedly, his voice mirroring the calmness between them.

Loki opened his eyes, a warm expression crossed his face. "I know. Seeing one's own life play out on screen was certainly an experience. I finally heard what I needed to hear for so long.” That he was loved.

"I met people I could trust.” Well, it was still an ongoing process for some part of it. “Someone who told me I could be anything I wanted to be, even someone good.”

A tinged of jealousy pinched inside Thor's chest. "Met anyone special along the way?" He nudged Loki with his elbow as he grinned.

"Well," Loki placed his hands in his pockets, letting out a nervous laugh. "it's complicated."

The shining grin remained. "I wish to hear about them.”

Loki shied away for a moment, trying to force his smile back but unfortunately failed to do so. "She's sometimes irritating and very reckless." His expression then softened. "She reminds me of how I used to be..so full of anger but deep down she's hurting, a lot. She doesn't trust, or let anyone in. Or even know what it’s like to love someone.”

"And then you came along with all that charm of yours.” Thor teased.

Loki scoffed. "Cut it out. We're..still figuring things out. I think."

"Truly, I am happy for you, brother. And what is this fair maiden’s name?" She was definitely far from a ‘fair maiden’...

Loki averted his gaze downwards, their last moment that they shared together played through his mind. "Sylvie." He said, almost as a whisper to himself. A name that weighed heavy in his heart.

"Sylvie." Thor repeated, testing the name. “You know, brother, for the first time in my life. I'm actually jealous of you. Who would of thought that?"

Loki frowned. "Jealous? Of me?" This would of once made Loki feel victorious that the roles had been reversed after many years but now it only pained his heart to see his mighty brother succumb to such sadness.

"I mean, look at you! All happy and in love. And then there's me. Barely even a king, I spend every day inside pretending I'm fine, it's not like most of my people haven't died when I was suppose to protect them or-or that half of the universe has been destroyed, that we failed them, failed each other and fell apart..” Thor rambled on. “We lost.”

"If this means anything to you; I still think you're worthy." Loki said softly. Thor turned with tears prickling in his eyes.

"I am?" He questioned, sniffling. “I’m not quite sure anymore.”

"You are forgetting who you are. You can't let Thanos take everything away from you. He is no god.” Loki knew mentioning Thanos would displease Thor but Loki knew the hard way that hiding your pain, forgetting that it exists, only made everything more worse. The only way out was to face it head on. Loki would certainly know.

Thor shook his head. “No, no. Loki, I can't. Not without you. I've lost everything." He trembled in his words. Loki regretted not leaving sooner. He had failed to comfort Sylvie, to save their trust within their final moments, now Loki had to find some way to bring closure to Thor who was possibly past his breaking point. Comforting others was a tricky task, a trait he had not quite naturally inherited from his mother.

"You don't need me. Our paths were destined to diverge." Loki had found a way to move on and Thor needed to do so as well. "All is not so lost, brother." When you live for so long, loss must be something you became familiar with but regardless of long you knew someone, there was never enough time for when you'd be ready to say goodbye.

"I know. I know." Thor mumbled to himself. Despite his larger size, somehow he seemed to cower into himself, making him seem so small.

Loki cleared his throat. "So the Avengers..they disbanded?" He asked.

Thor nodded. "Seemed that way. Not heard from them since the whole 'snap' disaster." They abandoned him, Loki thought in anguish, failing to hide the disgust in his features.

"The mighty so-called Avengers gave up, is that it?" Loki folded his arms across his chest.

"You seem angry, brother." Thor commented out of curiosity.

Loki shrugged. "They call themselves heroes, protectors against evil but when they lose, they go and hide away from their mistakes like cowards.”

"Then what makes someone a hero?"

Loki blinked several times, his annoyance was caught off guard by Thor's question. Someone who blindly follows the rules? Who uses their powers for fame and fortune? Those who believe they are perfect? But it seems after all, that they were anything but perfect.

"I don't know." Loki looked across at the waves, straightening up his posture and gave Thor his answer; "They are selfless, willing to sacrifice themselves for others without question. They don't just give up even when they lose. They keep on going." Loki attempted to keep his frustration under control but tendril of it managed to slip through.

A small smile portrayed across Thor's lips. "So is that who you are now?"

Loki frowned, turning his attention to his brother. "What do you mean?"

"A hero."

Loki chuckled. Him? A hero? He'd never stopped to think of himself as that. Loki had been many things, taken on many roles; the villain, a trickster, an outcast, a prince. But never a hero in the eyes of others or himself.

"Is that really such a bad thing, Loki?"

"I suppose not." Loki huffed out in uncertainty.

"Whoever said you could be anything you wanted to be was right." Then Thor repeated the words he once said to his Loki on Sakaar; "You could be more."

"Thank you." Loki spoke sincerely with a smile. Maybe he was thankful that he had stayed after all. A final chance to see his brother and for Thor to know that on another timeline, Loki was alive and well.

"No need to thank me, brother. I should be the one thanking you. I am glad fate has brought you here to me, to remind me of who I am."

"My pleasure." Loki nodded.

After a gloomy start to the day, the sun had won its battle against the clouds and shone its rays against the ocean, blessing New Asgard with its glorious light and warmth.

"Looks like the sun is finally making an appearance." Loki commented, looking upwards. "This place is rather melancholy to say the least."

Thor's eyes widened in bewilderment, his gaze switching between the sun and his brother. A tear trickled down his cheek. Fate was truly cruel in some ways. Loki noticed Thor's odd expression.

"Thor?"

Thor shook his head to escape himself from his thoughts. "I'm fine. And don't talk badly about my newly established kingdom. It's a...work in progress. Come back in a few years time and we'll have towers across these mountains."

"I'll take your word for it." Loki chuckled, though their happy mood soon faded. Loki would not be back here in a few years time. He would likely not come back at all. Thor picked up on Loki's sudden change of mood.

"Why can't you stay, Loki?" Thor asked despite knowing that he could not stay.

"As much as I would wish to stay with you, I can't. I.. have people wanting for me." He needed to find Mobius and Sylvie, to fix this mess that had unfolded, he will not run away. Thor nodded with a sniff.

"Will you at least come and visit?" He pleaded. Loki did not want to make any false promises, though he so easily could to make this less painful for Thor but in the long run, the guilt would soon eat up inside of him. He had enough of it to deal with already.

"Thor. I can't. I don't belong here."

Thor’s newly found confidence collapsed, hands beginning to shake. Loki made the decision to leave before the pain was too much to bear for both of them.

"No." Thor shook his head. "Don't leave me."

Loki placed a hand on his brother's quivering shoulder. "I have to. People need need me."

"To be a hero?" Thor managed to force smile as the tears shone in his eyes

"Well I guess." Loki smiled back before opening up his arms to embrace him in a hug. He let their embrace linger on.

"Don't give up." Loki whispered until they let each other go one final time. Thor did not have a chance to reply when Loki waved a hand of green sparks across Thor’s tear stained face.

"Goodbye, brother." Was the last words Thor heard before a gentle darkness overtook his sight.

- - - - - -

"Hey, man. You waking up anytime soon?" Said a voice. Thor felt something small and solid hit his face. "You're not dead are you?" Another minor hard object made contact with his cheek.

Thor had awoken, he was inside his beach hut, Korg stood above him catching a rock in his palm. "Sorry, hope that didn't hurt too much."

Thor ignored him, shrugging off his blanket as he stood up, stable onto his feet. There was a gleam of strength in his eyes that had been missing for far too long. A broad smile made an unusual appearance as the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Must of been some good dream you had there, buddy?"

"We need to contact the remaining Avengers." Thor demanded as he strode off towards the front door.

Korg scratched the back of his head. "Why?"

"Because heroes never give up!" Thor beamed.

Thank you, brother.

- - - -

@cazzyimagines @maciswack

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 16:

This is chapter 16 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3504

Cw: implied loneliness, discussions of bad coping mechanisms, jokes about drugs, guilt

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The evening in the mansion was rather quiet and peaceful, all things considered. Michael had immediately handed the drawing to Wilbur, who reluctantly kept it close. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Tubbo or Ranboo to see it. Not so much because of his own appearance in it, but because he realized that the sight of his ghost counterpart would likely bring up some bad memories.

Another thing that was mostly quiet during the evening was the actual ghost counterpart, much to Wilbur’s dismay. It was simpler, to distract himself from it when Ranboo and Tubbo were talking to him during dinner, or when Michael wanted to show him something, but it bothered him nonetheless. Tubbo and Ranboo had let Wilbur stay in a medium-sized bed in an almost empty room, with a couple of boxes in the corner. Wilbur had promptly excused himself to it, once the silence in his mind, and the chaos from outside, became a little overwhelming.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur asked, once the door was closed safely behind him.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a quiet gasp. “Oh! Hello!” Ghostbur said, sounding excited to be addressed, but disheartened nonetheless.

“Did you have a good day?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath, a little relieved to hear the familiar voice again. “You didn’t say much, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, sorry!” Ghostbur said.

“There’s no need,” Wilbur said, gently. “You can talk if you want to, or remain quiet if you want.” He shrugged, because it shouldn’t matter to him after all.

“Right, right…” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure if it was understanding or defeat.

Wilbur strolled towards the bed, and sat down, at the tempting mattress. His limbs grew heavier at the feeling. He hummed, thinking of what to say. “Did you know Michael drew you?”

“Huh?” Ghostbur asked, a bit of interest creeping into his tone.

“He did! He made a little crayon drawing of you and Friend.” He laughed slightly at the sentence, “And me.”

“He did?” Ghostbur said, familiar excitement slipping into the words, “What does it look like?”

Wilbur went on to explain as many details of the drawings he could reasonably give, despite the minimalist art style. The ghost listened intently. It was strange, the peace Wilbur suddenly felt, as the ghost sounded gradually happier, and he was sitting there alone as the night grew darker outside. Eventually, the inevitability of sleep snuck up on Wilbur. It felt strange, unfair even, to leave Ghostbur hanging like that. Not that Wilbur concerned himself with it of course, but it was a bit sad to think about the silence Ghostbur would experience, as soon as Wilbur drifted off to sleep.

But it happened nonetheless, and the darkness surrounded him, carrying him to rest in a matter of minutes, all the events of the past day slipping away calmly. They wouldn’t bother him until he turned to the waking world again.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun barely visible, but still visible enough to fill the room with a faint light. He stretched in the bed, before lying there for a few moments. His mind wandered, mostly refreshing his mind of yesterday and if there was anything he was supposed to do again. He remembered Ghostbur’s gloominess from the day before with an awkward feeling in his chest. He mumbled, “Good morning.”

A few moments passed with no response. Wilbur slightly frowned, “Ghostbur?”

“Oh! You were talking to me!” Ghostbur’s tiredness showed through his voice. It wasn't tiredness from a lack of sleep that made your voice gently crack on itself, but rather an exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed with rest. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur sat up from the bed, swinging his legs over so he was sitting normally. “I don’t remember being able to sleep that well in limbo, can you?” 

He hoped it was different for the ghost. That maybe he could also have a copy of Friend there for him instead of only having a faint grip of reality through Wilbur. “Nope. What did you do for fun here?” He heard a sigh from Ghostbur.

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I mean, it wasn’t really the best place in the universe.” He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “Sometimes I walked down the tunnel. I would go ‘til my legs were tired. Then I tried to go for longer.” The words slipped out effortlessly, yet his voice became quieter the further he got into it, “I timed myself in my head, the quickest I could collapse was… two minutes? There were some seconds added on, but I can’t remember.” 

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” His voice wasn’t enthusiastic- something Wilbur was grateful for.

Wilbur shook his head, “No no no, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. You shouldn't follow in my footsteps.”

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll run the way you didn’t go! Wait- why shouldn’t I run where you did?”

Wilbur sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I just meant you shouldn’t do what I did. I’m just…” Wilbur wanted to say he wasn’t a good role model because while it certainly was the honest truth, he didn’t care for the truth all that much. Information gives you the upper hand. “It was just a dumb decision and I don’t want to waste your time.”

Ghostbur’s voice was clearly dismayed, “There’s nothing much else to do. I mean- sometimes I can imagine stuff in my head! Like when I would play with Michael!” His excitement picked up at the end, but it wasn’t at the same level it used to be.

Wilbur tried smiling, “Yeah. That’s good. You should continue doing that.”

“I try to, but then it makes me sad. The feeling doesn’t go away anymore.”

Wilbur would’ve stood up from the bed and walked downstairs, but he didn’t want to end the conversation. “Doesn’t go away anymore?”

Ghostbur sighed, “Yeah. When I was alive, I would talk to people. Then- I think something bad would happen. At least that’s what other people said. After it was over, I would be talking with friends again! It was nice because I felt better a lot sooner than other people would.” Ghostbur paused for a moment. “I’ve heard that people get sad for multiple days, and I’m glad that never really happened to me. I wish it didn’t happen in general though. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah… being sad isn’t that fun.” Wilbur felt oddly empty at the words, the simplification of them making him remember the past. The days he went without sleep, trying to figure out how to win the election. The look of concern he got when Tommy told him that he should rest. Yet, he supposed those days weren’t exactly sad. They weren’t cheery, but they weren’t sad either. They held an odd sort of void to him, blending together before he even knew they started. 

He’d known about it, partially. About how Ghostbur was shaped by the good and didn’t remember any of the bad things Wilbur had experienced, nor the bad memories he had on his own. Yet it was quite another to hear him say it. To hear him speak of it as if it was something natural. Feeling better faster than others, because the memories slipped away. Wilbur hadn’t realized that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Perhaps forgetting was more merciful.

Wilbur stood up from the bed, “I’m gonna go eat some breakfast.”

Ghostbur seemed excited once more as he clapped. “I love breakfast so much! It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Wilbur nodded as he let out a sound of amusement, “Good choice.”

He walked to the door of the room, opening it slowly, afraid of disturbing any peace inside the house. He peeked his head out and looked both ways, yet he couldn’t see anyone awake. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. He carefully made his way downstairs.

When Wilbur entered the barely set-up dining room, it was as if the entire place hadn’t quite woken up yet. Tubbo was languidly standing on one side of the room, half doing the dishes, and half making breakfast. On the floor on the other side, by an open box of whatever furniture or household items it contained, Ranboo was sitting up against the wall, flipping through a book. Michael was sitting right next to him, once again leaning over a piece of paper, happily doodling on it with crayons.

He walked to where Tubbo was, making his footsteps loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. Tubbo turned around, a welcoming smile on his face, “Good morning.” 

Ghostbur cheerily replied, “Good morning!”

Wilbur stood next to the boy, looking over his shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just cutting up some apples right now. Makin’ pancakes. American ones specifically, because Ranboo says English ones are just sad crepes.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He was surprised the centrist even had an opinion on food. He seemed to stay neutral on so many other regards, yet pancakes were where he drew the line, “What a weird guy. What should I start doing?”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before speaking, “You’re a guest, you aren’t going to be the one cooking.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as his tone returned gentle, “Like old times.”. He spent so many days making breakfast in L’Manberg that he hadn’t even thought that things were different. Most of those early moments were spent with Tubbo before he went undercover as a spy. They both couldn’t stay asleep or didn’t sleep soon enough and decided to just start the day. They formed the routine of the person in the kitchen, decided what they were making, and the other helped until it was finished.

Tubbo looked away, his posture more rigid. Wilbur pursed his lips, he ruined another moment. Another peaceful moment was torn out of Tubbo’s head by the hands of a person he only invited to his home out of pity. He forced words to roll off his tongue, ones that didn’t belong but had to be placed there, “Just joking, man.”

Tubbo hesitantly laughed, “Yeah,” He returned his gaze to the fruit in front of him. Wilbur slightly narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but the confusion that persisted ever since his return. Everyone asserted that everything was different, but it all lingered in his head all the same. He could picture L’Manberg in its glory along with the uniforms that fit his soldiers perfectly. Yet no one else could. 

“Michael, no!” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly exclaimed, Wilbur immediately turned his head. He was met by the sight of Ranboo, worriedly trying to pull a piece of paper out of Michael’s mouth. Only a small part of it was stuck in there as if Michael had merely tried to lick it and had decided to chew on it afterward. “Let go, it’s not food.” Ranboo tried. With a sharp pull, Ranboo landed on his back with the paper in hand, and Michael looked disappointed.

Tubbo’s squinted, looking confused and concerned at the same time. “Didn’t we take away the yellow crayons?”

Ranboo sighed deeply, “Orange.”

“Michael doesn’t eat orange though?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo sat up and looked at Tubbo with a completely deadpan expression. “You haven’t considered the implications of light orange.”

Tubbo gasped with realization. “Oh,” he rushed towards the packet of crayons, picking out the orange ones hurriedly. Ranboo discarded the paper, and Michael watched with crossed arms, looking a bit annoyed at the whole ordeal. Wilbur couldn’t contain some light laughter as the scene unfolded.

Not too long after, breakfast was served. It was a lot less strained than Wilbur had perhaps feared. They chatted about Michael’s strange habits of eating crayons along with similar childhood stories. Light-hearted chuckles passed around the table, with Michael joining in occasionally. Even when they all finished their plates, they continued to sit. They only started moving when Michael seemed fussy with his high chair. Tubbo quickly took him out, setting him on the floor again. 

Tubbo picked up the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean these up. You and Michael can play for a bit.” Wilbur nodded and got up from his seat at the same time as Ranboo. Wilbur felt a pulling sensation on his pant leg, he goofily smiled when he looked down and realized it was Michael. 

Ranboo took the plates from Tubbo’s hands. “You cooked breakfast, it’s only fair that I wash the dishes.”

Tubbo gently pulled on them back. “And you played with Michael all morning.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he set the plates onto the kitchen counter. “Oh my, it’s so hard to be a Dad. Wow, it’s so difficult to just watch a child when the child is still waking up.”

Tubbo groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

Ranboo nodded. “I make such good points that you can’t even try.” While he seemed disinterested in the beginning, a small smile appeared on his face.

Tubbo sighed, “Yeah. I really can’t compete with the world’s best dad and husband. If only I could wash the dishes to pay him back.”

“Awww, I think they’re flirting again,” Ghostbur cooed. 

Ranboo let out a laugh, “Sure sure, maybe tomorrow.” He quickly leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Tubbo’s forehead. 

Tubbo scoffed, “Bitch.” He playfully punched Ranboo’s shoulder before heading off in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur even forgot he was there, wrapped inside the domestic peace of their family. He blinked and looked down at Michael, the child still pulling gently on Wilbur’s pant leg. 

“We’ll be in Michael’s room,” Tubbo called out to Ranboo. Ranboo nodded and continued putting the dishes in the sink. Tubbo started walking up the stairs and Michael quickly followed. Wilbur was walking a bit slower than before. Cautiously perhaps, though he wasn’t certain why. He smiled at Michael.

“Ooh, what are we going to play with Michael?” Ghostbur asked, though it was said in such a way, that he likely didn’t expect a response. Wilbur let out a relieved breath, at least a little comforted by the fact that Ghostbur had been talking this morning. It was going to be alright. Wilbur held on to the faint thread of a connection for now, each word from the ghost feeling like his one chance to take a breath. 

As they returned to Michael’s barely furnished room, Wilbur almost felt as if he’d settled into a routine. It was silly really, having been there for just one night, but the walls seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that was a lot less suffocating than most familiar walls Wilbur could think of. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to settle into that feeling. It wasn’t there to stay, but he could pretend it was for the time being. Though the warmth almost seemed to burn him.

Soon enough, he found himself sitting on the floor, playing with little toys shaped like various animals and other mobs. While Wilbur found it difficult to figure out exactly what they were playing, he released a scream from a toy he’d dubbed the Skeleton King, as Michael played the chicken protagonist, defeating the king for the last time. Ghostbur chimed in every once in a while, despite him knowing even less of what was going on. Ghostbur suggested that the chicken hero had a friend who was a ghost cow, and Wilbur had decided to incorporate it into the story. Partially just to please Ghostbur, though the smile on Michael’s face was priceless.

He looked over in Tubbo’s direction. The boy was feeling the walls when Wilbur realized they had a bit of crayon on them. Not much, but enough to notice if you looked close enough. He gasped quietly at the thought in his mind. He reached in his pocket, feeling the sugar cane in his hand. A small grin slipped onto his face as he discreetly crushed it up, forming a small pile of sugar in his hand. 

He shuffled slightly towards the edge of the table, gesturing for Michael to come along. The toddler tilted his head but walked over to where Wilbur was. Wilbur barely resisted laughing as he put the sugar on the table in a thin line. It wasn’t the neatest one in the world, but it would have to do. 

Wilbur spoke loud enough for Tubbo to hear, “Alright, first you get it in a line. It can be a bit hard to do sometimes, but you can always use the edge of a sword or a piece of paper if you’re really desperate.” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened at the scene. He immediately ran over, picking Michael up as he quickly placed the child farther away from Wilbur. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t understand the situation as he attempted to run back to Wilbur. 

Tubbo grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders before he could go far, turning the zombie piglin around to see him. His voice was tense, but still light enough. “Michael, how about you play tag with Dad for a bit, okay?” 

“Tubbo doesn’t sound okay,” Ghostbur supplemented. Although Wilbur could’ve been able to read the room himself, the ghost’s voice was always a nice echo in his mind.

Michael huffed, looking between Tubbo and Wilbur. Tubbo nodded, showing him the direction of the door. He even slipped a smile into his voice, although the one on his face seemed tense, “You can go down the stairs by yourself.”

Michael squealed excitedly as he ran out of the room, his footsteps heard as he excitedly ran down. Tubbo closed the door behind him as his eyes met Wilbur’s. A foolish grin sat on Wilbur’s face, “Your reaction was priceless!” He cackled as he casually pushed around the sugar on the table.

Tubbo sharply exhaled, “Wilbur.” His voice was sharp and jagged in a way Wilbur didn’t quite expect.

“It’s just some sugar in a line. C’mon, man, you can taste it yourself.” He picked a bit of sugar from off the table and put it in his mouth, making slightly exaggerated expressions as he emphasized that it wasn’t anything bad.

Some of Tubbo’s edge disappeared, but at least half of it remained, “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt Michael it’s just-” He cut himself off with a sigh. He looked away from Wilbur’s gaze and back at the wall with some crayon on it. “L’Manberg.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “What about it?”

They waited a few moments in silence before Tubbo hesitantly spoke, “Why did you start L’Manberg?”

Wilbur stated his answer automatically, “To declare independence from Dream. You were there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook his head, “No no, what was the original purpose of L’Manberg?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Tommy’s disks flew into his mind, but L’Manberg was never really centered on them, only Tommy and Dream did. He drifted onto the idea of community, but that was found after the nation was formed. Power maybe? Power seemed like a nice answer, but it somehow didn’t feel right on his tongue. He snapped his fingers as a look of realization came across his face, “Oh! We were gonna set up a drug empir- oh.”

History really does repeat itself in an ironic way.

Tubbo pursed his lips as he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s gaze, “Yeah.”

“Tubbo…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off before he continued again, “I mean, L’Manberg is over and done with. It’s not too big of a problem.” Wilbur scooped up the remaining sugar on the table and dumped it into his mouth.

Ghostbur seemed flabbergasted, “What are you eating? It seems… good? Is that the right word?” Wilbur nodded but Ghostbur couldn’t see.

Wilbur moved his gloves against each other, removing the rest of the remaining substance from himself. “Sugar never really loses its touch.” He stood up from the table. He slightly frowned when he spotted the cloudy look in Tubbo’s eyes. “You… okay?”

Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze for a moment before looking towards the door. “I know it was yesterday when you read the destruction of L’Manberg, really, it’s a new day. But-” Tubbo shakily exhaled, “Just because you got to destroy all of your hard work, doesn’t mean you’ll get to destroy mine too.”

Wilbur sympathetically looked at the boy as he walked closer. Tubbo tensed up noticeably. Wilbur stopped a few steps in front of Tubbo. “Tubbo.” A gentle assertiveness filled his voice, “Tubbo look at me.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes for a moment but met Wilbur’s gaze. Tears laced the boy’s eyes, the shine of them giving it away.

Wilbur took a breath, “Dream is in prison. L’Manberg is… gone.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. “I don’t have anything against you. I- I care about you being happy. I wouldn’t do anything to purposely ruin it.” Wilbur opened his arms for a hug.

Tubbo stepped forward as Wilbur’s chest lept and a small grin went across his face, but Tubbo side-stepped at the last moment, opening the door just a bit behind Wilbur. Before the door closed, Tubbo mentioned a whisper into the air, “It’s okay.” The words seemed to waver slightly as if they were meant to comfort himself and not Wilbur. The door clicked and he was alone once more.

[zims-left-shoe]

Hi, omg I love your stuff. Could I please request a tallest red x human female? I dont really have a specific idea. Just some fluff or headcannons is fine. Thank you so much. ILY😘

Yeah, of course! There’s a lot of dialogue, but I promise there’s fluff in the end!

Everything had been going so well. Until it didn’t.

A quiet moan of pain slipped out of your mouth as you continued to stay curled in fetal position on some hard surface, most likely a floor. Experimentally, you attempted to open your eyes, only to have your vision swamped by flashing saturated colors. You screwed your eyes shut again, drowning in the disorientation. There were probably voices around you, but they reached your ears as incoherent mumblings. Apparently, humans weren’t meant for instant intergalactic teleportation across schmillions of light years.

You were unsure of how long you had been laying wherever you were, nor did you suppose it mattered. Ever since you had been mildly conscious, you had been trying to recall what exactly had happened, without much luck. However, the second you had stopped caring about the preceding events, they all hit you with the force of twenty one bullet trains.

-

"Behold! Doesn't it amaze you?!" A very short alien gestured wildly to a glowing portal, grinning madly as if he couldn't believe his own genius. 

"Yes, Zim. It's very nice." Smiling uneasily, you nodded, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Over the years, you had learned to just agree with whatever Zim said, things went over much smoother that way. However, that didn't mean you weren't worried. Whatever Zim created tended to backfire...violently. Or explode. Or not work as intended. Or all of the above.

"Okay? But what does it even do?" The other human in the room spoke, more openly skeptic than you were. Purple light reflected off of his glasses as he shuffled through papers of calculations, which he couldn't read anyway, considering they were written in Irken. "Or, more accurately, what is it supposed to do?" 

"You imply that Zim's inventions never work as they should, Dib-stink!" Zim crossed his arms and turned away from Dib, clearly less than pleased with his lack of enthusiasm.

"That's because they don't!"

"Name one time!"

"Shall we take a look in The Cabinet?" The man decked out in black and blue thrusted an arm out towards a cabinet threatening to explode with close to ten years' worth of records of failed plans. Zim growled, lunging at Dib who was bent over in laughter. Before he could get very far, you grabbed the Irken's ankle, yanking him back. 

"That's enough, you two. Honestly. Act your age." The two disgruntled men grumbled complaints under their breath, but ceased their childish antics. If you hadn't known them for years, you wouldn't have believed that these two were now adults. "Now, Zim, could you kindly tell us what this thing does?" Your voice was soft and patient, hoping to set him back on track. He tended to become distracted quite often. 

"Yes! It's a portal that will allow the instant transportation of anything, the range being the entire universe!" He spread his arms wide, a laugh already bubbling up in his throat. Dib groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I thought you were working on the Irken conversions so I could finish my part on the ship." You couldn't help but crack a smile. Their ship was never going to be finished at this rate. 

"Yes, but this is much more important! I have an ingenious plan for it!"

"Enlighten us." Dib spoke flatly, still not convinced.

Zim pulled out a box wrapped up like a gift, complete with a neat little pink bow. "Zim will send this to my Tallest using the portal! Trust me, they'll love what's in here." Light from the portal glinted menacingly off of his teeth. The box made hushed mewling noises and began to ooze green goo.

"Is...is it alive?" Your voice was cautious. You took a step back when the box began to shake in his hands, bumping your back against one of the many machines in his lab.

"Zim, we've talked about this. The Tallest don't care, Irk has abandoned you, let it go. You know as well as I do that your mission isn't real, and that it's over." Dib sighed, not with frustration, more so pity. A few years ago when Zim had finally got it through his thick skull that his mission was a trick, it had devastated him to a point that no one had ever seen. You saw how much he needed a job, and Dib did as well. Dib had an issue with it in the beginning, but you both took him in, using his science skills to aid in Dib's personal projects. The last plan you were aware of was that the two were working on a ship of their own that would let them travel space together, something about Dib getting presentable proof of alien life while at the same time giving Zim a purpose. Zim seemed to have forgotten about Irk. Until now, at least.

"Don't worry about it! It's...a parting gift." The look in Zim's eyes brought you great discomfort. "Only a symbol of the termination of my service to the empire. That is all." His voice was pleasant enough, but you sensed some dark undertones. His fingers danced away on the controls, a dull hum echoing through the base as the portal fired up it's key functions. 'The Massive' and some coordinates became displayed on the screen above the portal, the destination locked in. 

"Zim…" Dib took a step forward, as did you. "You've had plenty of bad ideas, but I think this one is going to take the cake. So just shut the thing off." Zim shrugged his concerns off, stepping closer to the portal with the box that was becoming more aggressive the closer it came. Red light emitted from a lens at the top of the portal as it scanned the box in Zim's hand.

"Scan complete. Item composition: deadly. If transported, item will cause half of the universe to implode." The voice of the computer drawled. Your eyes widened as you looked to Zim, who acted as if he didn't hear the warning. More likely, he didn't care. When did he ever? He brought his arm back as he stood in front of the portal, preparing to throw the box.

Although it happened in the course of only a split second, it all was in slow motion for you. Without thinking, you took off, sprinting across the small room and leaping at Zim, harshly shoving him and the box out of the way of the portal. You had managed to prevent the tragedy of space implosion, but unfortunately, your forward motion continued, sending you through the portal. You had heard Dib's scream, but it sounded a million miles away. Your brain couldn't comprehend what had happened during the course of the teleportation, so it put you out of your misery, allowing you to pass out. 

-

"Ugh...Zim. Of course." You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes with closed fists. You were slouched over, and once the static finally cleared from your vision, you blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the new light. The panicked whispers from before continued, but you could now make out what they were saying.

"Did she say 'Zim'?"

"What creature is it?"

"Is it a weapon?"

Your brain finally jumpstarted, and you whipped your head around, eyes darting from one face to another. Several Irkens surrounded you, to where you couldn't see anything but a sea of green. You scooted backwards to create more room between you and the crowd, bumping into something behind you. You jerked yourself around, facing two of the tallest creatures you had ever seen. Instantly you recognized them as Zim's Almighty Tallest. They were much taller in real life than you imagined them to be. Even as an adult female standing at your full height, you knew they would tower over you. Hell, they would overtake Dib by a landslide, who now stood well over six feet. They bent over you to get a better look. After a second of silent observation, the one in purple straightened up and groaned loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Oh god, it's one of those creatures that inhabits Zim's planet!" The purple one resumed wailing madly. The one dressed in red straightened up as well, but said nothing. His red bug eyes rested on you quizzically, intrigued by your mere existence. "You! How did you get here?" The purple one pointed a long and slender finger at you, his face filled with pure terror.

"I went through Zim's portal, it was an accident-" Your voice was panicky. Almost all of the Irkens around you were riddled with anxiety, which you absorbed like a sponge.

"So, Zim sent you!" The purple one just loved to shout, didn't he? You wondered if this was a common trait among Irkens.

"No! It-"

"He sent you for malicious purposes! Like, to, uh...to annoy us into oblivion! Yeah!" So, the purple one was a moron. Good to know. Nevertheless, the crowd of Irkens began mumbling, as if you were trapped in a high energy court room.

"This is all a big misunderstanding, now maybe you could just...drop me off at home, or maybe send me with an escape pod or something-"

"To the dungeons with her!" The purple one screeched, yet again pointing a finger at you. 

"Yes, My Tallest!" Two guards came up to you with taser spears, and you concluded it would be best not to fight. You had been electrocuted with high voltage electricity in Zim's lab once on accident, and it did not feel pleasant. A sigh fell from your lips as each guard took an arm, dragging you to the dungeons of The Massive while cheers rose from the Irken crowd. 

-

"I swear, I will kill Zim when I get my hands on him." You muttered, tossing a coin you had in your pocket against the wall for the four thousandth time. You sat on the floor of your cell, the cold concrete making you shiver. The wall that pressed against your back was the same. There wasn't even a cot in there. Iron bars with buzzing electricity fields between them blocked your exit.

"That's not the first time I've heard that in here." A voice floated toward your ears, however it was muffled by the surrounding concrete.

"Who are you?" You had assumed you were alone in there. After all, how often could you possibly use a dungeon on an armada flagship?

"I'm Deek. I think. Honestly, I've been here so long I can't even remember." The voice, which sounded male, giggled. "Anyway, what are you in here for?"

"Not sure. Trespassing, maybe? The more accurate term would be a kneejerk reaction. What about you?"

"Being annoying. I guess."

"Shit, really? I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's better than being tossed out the airlock." You ceased throwing the coin. Decidedly, Irken society seemed to be hell in space. "In fact, they just threw Jix out last week. Poor gal." Deek's voice held a tinge of sadness. Images flashed through your mind of your body being launched into space. That wasn't how you had envisioned dying. You shuddered. 

The sound of a door opening and steps approaching your cell caused every muscle in your body to tense. You vaguely wondered if it was your turn for death by airlock. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling yourself into a ball with your face between your knees, not wanting to see who had stopped in front of your cell.

"So..." The voice was level and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of before. Cautiously, you lifted your head, opening your eyes. At your level, you could only see a long crimson skirt. Pushing yourself up to a standing position, you still had to crane your neck to see his face. The red Tallest stood before you, a bored expression plastered on his face. 

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Uh..." He almost seemed surprised that you had asked that. Even still, you wouldn't take any chances. 

"You shouldn't kill me! Just, you know, reverse engineer the phenomena or something and teleport me back! Or even send me in an escape pod! Humans, uhm, we cause massive explosions when killed! Yeah! So you'd destroy yourself in the process." If he had sensed you were lying, he didn't care. However, he did look puzzled by your desperate reaction.

"What? No, I'm not here to kill you." He let out a massive sigh, bending over to look you in the eye. "I'm just bored. There's only so much of Purple's antics I can take at a time." Your shoulders relaxed in immediate relief. 

"Wait, his name is Purple? Let me guess, your name is Red?" That was such a strange notion to you. Every other Irken you had heard of all had such bizarre names, and apparently these two just went by Red and Purple.

"Yeah? So? Also, it's Tallest to you." The threatening tone inserted into his words was half-hearted at best.

"Can't I call you Red? I'm not Irken."

"I don't think so, short-thing."

"Why not? And I'm not short! You're just tall. Plus, my name is Y/n. Not short-thing." You huffed, unconsciously shifting to stand on your toes, increasing your height by maybe an inch at the most. He seemed to appreciate his height being acknowledged, so he relented.

"Fine, do what you want." Red continued to stare at you, almost as if he couldn't quite understand what you were. You didn't blame him, the circumstance had been kind of sudden. Plus, he hadn't heard from Zim in years. Most likely, everyone had assumed him to be dead. 

"You said you were bored? I'll have you know, I can be quite entertaining! So maybe you could, I dunno, get me out of here?" Your lips lifted in a sweet smile, hoping Irkens could be swayed by charm. There was a second of silence as he mulled the idea over. On one hand, it would give him something to do besides eat and blow things up. On the other, if anyone saw, many questions would arise. Despite his concerns, curiosity won out. With his two thin fingers, he tapped a code into a keypad on the wall. There was a dying buzz as the electricity stopped flowing and the iron bars were lifted. There was a part of you that was amazed that he actually let you out. You stepped out, watching his face to make sure he wasn't bluffing about sparing your life. Not a muscle in his body so much as twitched, hell, you weren't even sure if he was breathing. You didn't know how he could with a waist like that. "So, what now?" 

"I thought you said you were the master of fun?"

"I said I was entertaining, not the master of fun. But, I dunno, we could start by getting out of here. Space prison kind of kills the vibe."

"Fine." Red began walking, well, hovering down the hall. He did not look back to see if you were following, and you had to jog to catch up. "Oh, and this isn't space prison, that's Moo-Ping 10. This is more like space holding." 

"There's a difference?"

"Oh yeah." You were sure you were both still in the belly of the ship, considering you never once went up a flight of stairs. However, you had exited the dungeon area, and emerged into a more open room. There were some tables and chairs, and the room was lit by white florescent lights. Everything else within the room was some shade of pink. Occasionally, he would take a quick glance around, as if to make sure no one was watching. Was he supposed to be down here? If he was a supreme leader of society, you weren't sure why it mattered where he was or who he was with.

"What is this place?" You finally asked as he took a seat in a chair, chin resting in his hand. His glances in your direction were fleeting and infrequient, almost as if he were embarrassed to be intrigued by something so short. 

"Not sure. An unused dining hall maybe?" Satisfied with his answer, you took a seat next to him. Taking the opportunity to look him up and down, youwere confused by his anatomy. He was built differently than every Irken you had ever seen. You pointed to his impossibly skinny waist. 

"How?" You opted for that phrasing, as you were unsure if 'is that natural?' would have been rude. 

"Hm? Oh. Corset." His answers to everything were quick and simple. Even still, you couldn't help but stare in wonder. 

"Doesn't it hurt?" You assumed having a corset tightened to such an extreme would be incredibly painful, but he only shrugged without a care.

"You get used to it. It's all part of being Tallest, just as is losing your thumbs." A smirk etched its way onto his face at your horrfied expression as his wiggled his two fingers through the gauntlet on his arm. Subconsciously you rubbed your thumbs, lips pursed in a tight line. "You're a curious little thing."

"You act like I'm a child! I'm a grown woman, thank you very much." You may still have been young by human standards, but you had still made it over the age of 18, so technically, you were an adult. Red chuckled at your pouting, as you had just proven his point unintentionally. A ghost of a smile was present on his face. Was he actually enjoying himself? You decided to switch gears. "The whole dynamic of Irk is strange."

"Oh yeah? How so?" 

"It's like one big military." Red snickered, unable to stop the chuckle that rose from his chest.

"Of course it is. That's kind of our whole thing." He lifted a hand, trying to gesture to the armada as a whole. 

"Oh, yeah. Right." Another silence fell between you two. It was rather difficult for you as a human to comprehend Irken society. It all just seemed so...foreign. So static and stiff. 

Red was the first to speak again. "Tell me then. What's Earth like?" Excitedly, you sat up in your chair, eyes shining. 

"Well, people still respect each other, sometimes anyway, but everyone is less stiff with each other. There's more kindness. Now, don't get me wrong, there are many who are full of hate and lots of people fight all the time, but it's still less so than Irk. Plus, height isn't such a huge deal. And there's relationships." Your words came out quickly, hands moving to accentuate your thoughts.

"Relationships?" If Red had eyebrows, they would be raised in questioning. His voice was laced with suspicion, as if he didn't trust the concept.

"Yeah! All different kinds. Familial, platonic, romantic, etc. You know, parents, siblings, friends, that kind of thing...usually, they're all based on love. And, no offense, but there seems to be an absence of that here." You had heard it from Zim many times before. Irkens can't feel love, they trust no one and all that. On some level, you doubted that to be true, rather it was more of a choice, that maybe they were told that love is a sign of weakness so they chose not to feel anything at all.

"Love...?" Red spit out the word as if it burned his tongue. Clearly, love was not a well thought of concept in Irken culture. After a moment, he appeared to recall something. "I think I remember something that happened years ago...Zim called about some romantic experiment he was running on some girl. Said it was very pain-based. This is something humans find...pleasant?" Waving your hands you shook your head in a clear 'no'. No wonder Red was concerned by the idea of love.

"No! Not unless you're a masochist anyway. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but that's not what love is."

His tone showed that he was still mildly disgusted with the topic, but nevertheless, he proceeded to ask for further clarification. "Then what is it?" Red was never very interested when Zim had been reporting ten-ish years ago, but now that he had a subject sitting right in front of him, the idea became somewhat exciting.

"Like, romantic love?" You asked, a small part of you hoping he was asking about platonic love instead. You weren't entirely sure how to explain romance to a species who understood nothing but pain and hierarchy. Red nodded, asking you to go on. You breathed out a relenting sigh, struggling for the right words to explain it. "Romance is...uhm…it's when..." Red peered at you expectantly, crimson eyes wide and inquisitive. Finally, you came up with something. "It's when you like someone very much, and you would do almost anything for them." He nodded slowly, looking as if he was beginning to grasp it.

"Like pledging your loyalty?" Loyalty was a thing Irkens could understand thoroughly.

"Yeah, like that! And you want to do lots of stuff together! Spend time together and all that. There's also physical affection." His head cocked to the side, similar to a puppy. 

"Physical affection?"

"Ye...Yeah...!" Your feet shifted on the floor as you clutched the hem of your shirt between your fingers. You couldn't help but feel nervous under his gaze. Your face flushed as he stared out at you through half-lidded eyes, overly fixated on the topic of physical affection. 

"What's that?" Once again, his voice was as even as could be. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin, enjoying the way you were acting. It was quite amusing to him. You suddenly regretted bringing up the subject of romance.

"Like, examples?" Swallowing hard, your fingers began to drum on the table. How were you possibly supposed to describe it to him? He certainly wouldn't know what a hug or a kiss was. "I don't think I can exactly describe it to you..." You hoped he would leave it at that and move on.

Of course that wasn't the case. That was the problem with Irkens. Once they found a way to make you squirm, they would push until it was no longer fun. "Then show it to me." His response was quick, zero hesitation. He looked completely satisfied, for once not feeling that familiar dull, almost constant ache of boredom. You weren't sure about it at first, but the longer he looked at you with that smug expression, the more determined you became to wipe that smirk off his face. 

"Fine." Irkens are touch-starved creatures. It wouldn't take anything too extreme to accomplish what you wanted. You stood up, moving over to plant yourself right in his lap. Taking his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his two, pressing your face into his chest. "Humans do things like cuddle and hold hands." His heartbeat was similar to a human's, the rhythym just slightly different. This close, you could hear the soft hum of his PAK. With your free hand, you traced indescribable shapes into his chest. If you were to look up, you would have seen his antennae twitching. Already, you had accomplished what you had set out to. He was no longer teasing or overconfident. Although he would never admit it, he was content with the attention. As you continued to draw random nothingness, Red let out what sounded like a low purr, the sound sending a pleasant rumble through his chest and against your skin. A series of quiet chirps followed, and you had to assume he was satisfied. You couldn't help but giggle, and at the time, the uncertainty of how you would get home was the furthest thing from your mind.

"Do humans do anything else?" Red attempted to suppress the spark in his voice, but was wildly unsuccessful. His tone was the farthest thing from passive. You let go of his hand, sitting up to face him. 

"Of course we do." You experimentally raised a hand to his face, seeing if he would shy away. That was not the case, rather the opposite. He seemed to almost lean into your touch. You weren't sure why he was so okay with this; you supposed that each Irken had different policies and tolerances when it came to physical contact. Red seemed to be anxiously awaiting whatever was coming next, his expression eager. "Sometimes we give each other kisses." You didn't bother fighting the smile that played at your lips as you peppered several kisses all over his face. There was barely an inch of his cheeks and forehead that went untouched. Red's face felt hot beneath your lips, and if Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be completely flushed. His fingers had drifted to your sides, lightly resting there. 

Hmm...Irkens are quite interesting... You thought as you held eye contact with Red. He was clearly embarrassed to be engaging in this, but more so at the fact that he was enjoying it. And yet, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down. You wondered what would happen if someone found him like this. What would even happen?

"The rest of human physical affection is rather intimate, so the lesson will have to end here." Before he could protest, you leaned in one last time, pressing your lips to where his should be. His fingers dug into your sides, antennae shooting straight up in the air. You had never dreamed that you would be kissing an alien leader on a warship in space, but you wouldn't say you were disappointed. Pulling away, Red's grip on you loosened, and something bright caught your eye. Small sparks were being thrown from his PAK, which concerned you slightly. "Uh, Red...?" Pointing a finger to his PAK, he shook his head wildly, and after a moment, everything seemed to be alright again.

"It's fine!" He spoke abruptly, voice loud and awkward. His voice drew in some company, as Purple stuck his head in the room.

"There you are! Zim keeps sending transmissions through and he's going crazy-" Red yelped, practically throwing you off of him and into the nearest chair he could find.

"So, do I go home now?" You asked, and for the first time, Purple seemed to notice you.

"Ack! How did you get out of the dungeons?!" Purple jumped back, despite already being across the room from you.

"I have super powers." You snickered at his frightened appearance. Red rolled his eyes, waving his counterpart off.

"Just go, I'll deal with Zim." Purple nodded, zipping out of the room. You weren't sure if your senses were playing tricks on you, or if Red really was disappointed to see you leave. "C'mon, Y/n. Let's go figure out how to reverse engineer a transport portal."

[ofdragonsdeep]

13: Oneirophrenia

Internal wounds leave the deepest scars.

(MAJOR CW for implied rape, m!WoLxThancred, m!WoLxHaurchefant)

The still quiet of the night hung in the air like a held breath. In the Rising Stones, the air was free of the sickly purple gloom that suffused the air of Mor Dhona, the only disturbances the noises coming from the common room and its tiny yet perpetual bar.

In his room, simple as it was, Ar’telan struggled to sleep. He lay on his side, covers pulled up around him to ward off the cold, tail coiled in a miserable pile at his legs. Each time he closed his eyes, the thoughts came back, wending their way through his sleeping mind as though aware that his defences would be down.

Most of the nightmares he could cope with. He would wake and then sleep again, a huff on his lips at the foolishness of dwelling on them. People he had seen die, the massacre at the Waking Sands, the trail of blood that their campaign had led through Castrum Meridianum, all of this was par for the course. One of the Scions he spoke to on occasion, a young elezen called Alianne who had been an adventurer once, had been learning from the Eorzean Alliance’s trained therapists, what few of them were left in the wake of the calamity. The trauma was expected - normal, even, in people who had witnessed horrific events like the ones he had seen. But there was one nightmare that he did not speak of, the reason he was sleeping alone, if he was sleeping at all. The feeling of ‘Thancred’ catching his hands to silence his words, Lahabrea hearing his every protest with the Echo, the cruel things he had said, the things he had done, to try and crack Ar’telan’s faith in the Scions. Always, inevitably, it went back to that, as if living it once had not been punishment enough.

With a groan of frustration, he rolled over in the bed, pulling the covers over his head as if to block out the night. How easy it would be if he did not need sleep, or if he simply drank himself into a stupor every night like Thancred did, to cope with the aftermath.

Maybe Thancred had the right of it.

---

“You look like the dodo the cook forgot about in the back of the pantry,” Yda said, Ar’telan wincing at the specifics of her description.

“I am fine,” he said, stifling a yawn as he said it. “Just a little tired.” Yda squinted at him - at least, he thought she did, the way she tilted her head towards him, but it was hard to tell through the mask.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” she demanded. Ar’telan groaned.

“I don’t know. But I will be fine. Thank you for your concern,” he said. This did not seem to convince Yda, if the way she looked back towards Papalymo was any judge, but she at least left him alone for the time being.

It was Y’shtola who disturbed him, more gently than he was used to from the acerbic conjurer. A poke of her wooden wand into his arm, and he raised his head from where it lay on the table to look at her.

“Am I needed?” he asked, and Y’shtola let out a sharp sigh.

“Yes. Come with me,” she instructed, and Ar’telan pushed himself out of the chair and followed her.

She did not take him to the Solar, like he was inspecting. Instead, she led him into one of the many little side rooms in the Rising Stones, which were normally reserved for all sorts of things that Ar’telan was not involved in.

“Sit,” she demanded, pointing at a chair. Confused, Ar’telan did as he was told. Y’shtola mirrored the motion in the chair opposite him, folding her arms across her chest. “Yda tells me you have not been sleeping enough,” she said, and Ar’telan wilted.

“I am fine,” he said, and Y’shtola let out a harrumph of disagreement.

“I am sure you are. That may have swayed me during our eventful stay at Costa del Sol, but it will not work here,” she snapped. Ar’telan would very much have liked to go back to the busywork of doing inane tasks for the Company of Heroes, in truth. At least when he was busy he did not think, and when he wore himself out his sleep was long and blissfully dreamless. “What troubles you? I would hope that after all this time we are friends enough for you to share it.” Ar’telan grimaced.

“It… it’s nothing much. Nightmares. Alianne has been helping,” he said, trying to evade the brunt of the question. “I will improve when I am busy again. I’m sorry for the fuss.” Y’shtola shook her head again, taking out her wand to bonk him lightly on the head with it.

“Do not apologise for struggling. We none of us are perfect,” she chastised, and Ar’telan shrunk back away from her in shame.

“No. But… No,” he said, changing his mind. Too late, though, for Y’shtola was after the half-formed thought like a starveling wolf on a hunk of fresh meat.

“This is about Thancred, isn’t it?” she surmised, and Ar’telan cringed at the accuracy of her statement. Not that it was exactly difficult to piece together that the two of them were coping poorly in the aftermath of the Praetorium, Thancred through drink and Ar’telan through anything he could get that would not cloud his mind. After Castrum Centri, some part of him had hoped that it would all make sense - that he would be able to parcel it away, file the memories into neat little boxes, half labelled ‘Thancred’ and the rest ‘Lahabrea’, but reality was cold and unfeeling in its truth.

“It is fine. We have reached an understanding,” Ar’telan said, which made Y’shtola scoff.

“They could hear your arguments all the way in Gridania. Well, Thancred’s half of them, at any rate,” she said. “It does not have to be easy, Ar’telan. You have not failed for struggling with it. The Twelve know you are at least coping better than Thancred is.” Ar’telan was not so sure of that, but he held his tongue on it regardless.

“It is fine. He is right-”

“He most certainly is not,” Y’shtola cut in. “Not if it is hurting you this much. Talk to me, Ar’telan. Your words will not reach his ears, if that is what concerns you.” Ar’telan hesitated. He had kept his counsel before the Garleans had raided the Waking Sands, and what had that got him? He had been convinced that his words were meaningless, his opinion irrelevant, his worth nothing more than his usefulness to the cause. To keep his silence was what Lahabrea had wanted from him, wasn’t it?

“It is… it is difficult,” he admitted, and the words were hard to shape, as though he had been avoiding the revelation even to himself. “I can’t… I couldn’t… It comes back. What Laha- what Lahabrea did.” He hesitated over the words, his fingers shaking as he made the sign for the ascian’s name. “I can’t be near him without remembering it. Can’t be close to him. I tried to- tried to ease the fear.” He had touched his fingers to Thancred’s throat, content that if the tiny crystal on its choker was not there, that it was really Thancred this time, that the spectre of Lahabrea would be banished, but Thancred could only see that without it, Ar’telan thought him capable of all the things that Lahabrea had done. Of course it hurt him. Why wouldn’t it hurt him? It was a terrible thing to accuse a person of, even in implicit gestures and terrified catastrophizing. But what was he supposed to do? “Thancred - we - it doesn’t work. And he is angry, and I am s-scared, and when I try to sleep it all comes back.” Y’shtola’s face softened at the revelation. She was the only one who knew, aside from Thancred himself, at least as far as Ar’telan knew. He hadn’t dared tell anyone else, not even Minfilia, given how stressed she was with everything that had happened to her during her time in captivity, and her closeness to Thancred. Part of him had feared that she would think him a monster to believe Thancred capable of what Lahabrea had done, even if that had been the point. It was not supposed to be easy. The ascian would not have bothered otherwise.

“It’s ok,” Y’shtola told him, gently taking one of his hands in hers, leaving him the room to pull it back if he needed to speak. “Such terrors do not fade quickly. Maybe they never will. But we cannot help if you do not tell us.” Ar’telan nodded, knowing that she was right. She usually was. At least she was not as insufferable about it as Alphinaud. “I am not a master of the culinary arts, but I shall speak with some friends, and find you some herbs to help you sleep. I will not tell them why.” He nodded, swallowing down the rising panic at her suggestion, the thought that anyone else would know, would judge him for what had happened, for his weakness in being unable to confront it. It seemed little different to Thancred’s self-medication, still rendering him useless until the herbs wore off, but he would bear it if it meant that he could sleep.

“Thank you,” he said, using only his free hand to do it. It was hard to whisper when you had no voice, but perhaps that counted. “I… I am sorry. For not… not trusting you.” Y’shtola shook her head, naught on her face but concern.

“‘Twas the point of it, was it not? To make you doubt,” she said. “It will take time, and if need be, I shall drag you off to speak with you a dozen more times ere you feel comfortable coming to me yourself. The villain is ousted, and even if he will reconstitute, you have time left to breathe and gather yourself. If there is aught you need, simply say.”

“I will try,” Ar’telan said, the best he could offer in the circumstances. Y’shtola nodded.

“Good. I shall hold you to that,” she decided.

---

Dawn filtered through the cracks in the window like the caress of a lover, rousing Ar’telan from his sleep. The bed was no less simple, and no less empty, but it did not yawn before him like a chasm that seemed impossible to cross, and perhaps that would mean something.

It was not easy. Each night he drank the bitter herbs that he had been so discreetly given felt like a stay of execution more than a panacea, and the tensions between him and Thancred showed no signs of abating. The troubles in Ishgard offered a tantalising opportunity to bury himself in the work of others, to keep his own counsel and pray that an untended wound would somehow heal, but it was not that easy. It was never that easy, not when the knife had cut so deep with edges so sharp and cruel.

He would hold his own. He had no choice but to persevere.

(And when Haurchefant’s hands touched his, though he woke still alone for all their wishes, the elezen let him run his fingers over his throat - unmarked by ascian aether, reassuring in its warmth - it felt like, one day, he might heal.)

[realmonsterboyhours]

how would the dons react if their s/o was taken hostage? whether it’s because they have personal business with the dons or s/o? and also s/o was a little roughed up as well. fee free to delete if this makes you uncomfortable.

The dons' s/o taken hostage / hurt to comfort

It does not make me uncomfortable <3 As a general note to anyone wondering, the only topic I'm not really willing to write about is anything specifically politically charged. It never hurts to ask! I've lived a long and terrible life, so I have plenty of experience. If you wanna ask for something that tends to be a bit "uncomfy" for other writers then that's fine! Feel free to ask, worst case is I just delete it.

Fun fact! I actually had a dream about the dons where I was in this exact situation! So some of the responses may be inspired from that

Tw: Kidnapping, taken hostage, death, talk of gore, talk of torture, generally a darker piece that I'll put below the cut!

Zhuk

When you went missing he went utterly nuts.

There's no way you would have just silently left all that you had here, there's no way his adored partner would have just taken off, and definitely not without a word.

In an instant he's rallying the other dons for a game plan to find you.

When they get the info they need on where you are you're gonna have to bet on this war-beast of a man. Because he's there to fuck shit up, and take names.

He's walking in calmly to the room your kept, with a smile, nodding to the others or his clones to "Escort my love back home".

When you're taken back home, and are safely away Zhuk is absolutely going to go nuts on whoever it was that took you.

Their cries will fall sickeningly silent quite literally under his feet, because he doesn't even deem them worth spending ammunition on, not when brute strength and a well placed boot do just as well.

When he comes home he's making you a strong drink, having you patched up, and he's spending the rest of the evening with you wrapped up in his arms.

He's doesn't remember the last time he cried, but he tonight. The thought of you hurting because of their business is almost enough for him to let you go, but he knows that ultimately you would be worse off without their protection and the idea of other problems you'd face would leave him feeling helpless. He'd spend the night swapping between comforting you with your favorite things, and silently crying while holding you tenderly so it doesn't hurt.

Gio

He is likely the most outright calm of the bunch when he finds you've gone missing.

He somehow always has a sense of where you are, he figures it's just because he loves you so much. Maybe it's a benefit of being some kind of eldritch horror monster.

Whichever it is, he doesn't feel the need to alert the others. That would only cause a massive panic. Not when he has it handled.

The perks of being a eldritch demon shapeshifter of sorts seem endless when sneaking into a warehouse full of opposing bad guys would be that its much easier to actually sneak in unannounced.

Whether it's turning himself to one of the captors, or straight up turning into shadows or smoke of some kind he's getting in that locked room and he's instantly teleporting you home with him with a snap of his fingers.

Though it's much less eventful than the other dons, that's because Gio likes to keep you out of his mafia business as much as possible. What you don't know is the terrifying swell of rage inside him where he's already sent in his clones to torture them for information.

He's going to patch you up himself. Whether it's him or the other dons, Gio is the one among them who is actually medically trained as much as Scarabee likes to tell you he's also trained medically sometimes balms and salves aren't a good enough replacement for a well thrown stitch or two.

He would ask you if you wanted to see the others, or if it was too much right now and just wanted him, or if you wanted to be alone. He would obviously respect your wishes, but if you were silent he would opt to take you to see the others and sit around with them all quietly in the smoking lounge.

You do notice, however, that he's not letting you go, even when he snaps at Scarabee for wanting to put some of his home-made remedies on your beautiful stitches!

He's spending the next few nights awake, keeping an eye out for you. You would have a clone personally assigned to you. Likely Cici who is arguably his most terrifying clone, but would be soft and gentle with you when ordered from the boss.

Scarabee

At first, he doesn't quite know you're missing. He has shadows all over the estate but he doesn't know until a clone reports you missing to him.

His dead heart drops to his stomach.

He's asking his patron God where you are, the answer is clear and exact. He knows in n instant exactly what us happening and he's taking off without a word.

If you thought Zhuk was bad. Oh boy.

His clones are all called out, they swarm the entire building and let me tell you, the noises you would hear are not for the faint of heart.

A group would retreat to your room where they may attempt to hold you hostage at gunpoint unless they all stop.

You're freaking out but Bee just gives you the sweetest smile and walks closer and closer. He can smell the fear and bluff in these guys' veins.

He's going to take you into his arms and he's gonna cover your ears and just do his best to get you out of the room

But you will never unfortunately forget the sight of a Naga Deity splitting his mouth open to literally eat the poor saps who threatened and hurt you.

Once you're home he's bringing you begrudgingly to Gio for medical care. As much as he knows his stuff would work, he knows everyone else would also be more comfortable with Gio's help.

He's still gonna put his own balms and salves on it once he's done though.

He's not letting you off his lap, he himself is going to smoke down a few more cigarettes than normal tonight, and any fleeting hope of sleeping that night or that week even for him is completely dashed away.

He's going to spend the night with you in his arms, in his bed, stroking your hair as gently as possible and promising to do better.

He would end up likely giving you a little snake bracelet or piece of jewelry of your choice that would tip him off to when things are wrong or where you are if need be. It would be the only comfort he would have for a while.

Cia

He's tipped off to your absence by a clone, or by you not showing up to his pub like you two had been planning for tonight.

He's leaving a clone to watch the pub, and he's frantically headed home to let the others know. He's going to take at very least Zhuk with him. He's not as personally fond of getting his hands bloodied up again as funny as that is coming from the don who literally runs a bare knuckle boxing ring.

His goal is to get in there, and get you the fuck out.

It's likely with their clones combined that it's a rather easy process. Especially with Zhuk as blood-lusty as he is looking when he's also told you're missing.

So when they find you it's a quick in and out. You're worried for Zhuk but Cia is just getting you into the car where he's gonna start on some basic wound care that he's experienced at somehow.

When Zhuk returns they take you home, bring you to Gio, and by then it's basically a family affair. The others would respect your wishes if you wanted to be alone with any one of them but they won't let you be entirely alone after that. Especially not Cia.

He's holding you in the smoking lounge, keeping you impossibly close, and he's nursing something himself that's strong and dark.

He'll offer to make you a drink as well if you want it to help take the edge off.

Once he gets you to sleep he's spending the whole night sleeping by your side with a couple clones posted up around to keep an eye on everything. Though his Chamie clone will absolutely try to sneak in some love for himself because he was scared of losing you extra.

Bajo

He's tipped off when he heads to your room or any of your normal spots and you're nowhere to be found. That's unlike you at all.

But something just doesn't feel right.

He sends out all his clones to try and find you. They end up finding clues for your abduction and they all report back. He'll send out all the clones to search high and low at every possible place.

He's letting the others know and before they can stop him he's off to find you as well.

When the dons all finally show up, taking care of everything is easy. That's the perks of having 5 demon lovers.

But when Bajo finds you it's dramatic. He's kissing the breath out of your lungs, he's trembling and nearly crying because the other dons may have had experience with similar, but this would be Bajo's first.

He's personally taking you back home, and having Gio patch you back up.

He gets whatever you need, water, helps you bathe, he runs drugs and getting you pain relief is no problem. He'll keep you pin free and loved.

The others know he's taking it hard so they let him have you for a while. He'll be selfish and keep you to himself for as long as the two of you need.

He'll be there to listen if you need to talk, or he'll be there to distract you if that is what you prefer.

From there on he's assigning you a clone for a while. Your favorite clone, and if need be, he'll swap them out so you at least don't get bored. But he has to make sure you're safe. He can't lose you.

It was his first ever run in with losing someone he truly loved, and he can't even begin to imagine losing you permanently. He knows he will eventually, but until then, he's gonna milk all the time and love from you he can.

[remedialpotions]

Tomorrow

ffn | ao3

He remembers their first kiss, that chaotic clash of lips and noses and bodies and adrenaline flooding through him. And the second, of course, a softer and sweeter one, in the quiet of an empty Gryffindor common room. In the very beginning, he couldn’t help but quantify it, seeking tangible evidence of what he wanted desperately to believe: that she wanted him, continued to want him, chose him to be hers. Other firsts, too, are burned permanently into his brain: her hands sneaking into his trousers; her knickers on the orange carpeting of his bedroom; her back arching with unbridled delight. But at some point in those weeks after the war, he lost track, and  now when he looks back, it’s all blurred together into a rush of happiness that most of the time seems too good to be true.

At times he worries that it is, that somehow she’ll slip through his fingers and he’ll wake up one morning to find that he never really had her at all - or worse, that the world will find a way to wrench this away from them. It always feels like he’s on borrowed time.

So they’ve snuck away from Sunday lunch at the Burrow to hide in the apple orchard. Even though it’s one of those cool, foggy days for which England is famous, he’s content to lend her his jumper and let goosebumps rise along his skin, because it means he’s with her, and that’s all that matters. 

All is calm between them. They’ve found their favorite little spot at the edge of the orchard, lounging against the trunk of a tree. Hermione’s head rests on his shoulder, her denim-clad legs slung casually over his lap. Her hand slips into his, and as he interlocks their fingers together, he notices ink stains on her fingertips. 

A pang of melancholy shoots through him.

“Have you been revising already?” he asks, causing her head to lift up from his shoulder.

“I supposed I should get started on things,” she replies, only a little bit defensive, “I took a whole year off, I can only imagine how behind I am-“

“Mhmm,” Ron interrupts with a barely-suppressed grin. “You’re so behind that McGonagall’s made you Head Girl. That’s definitely it.”

Her eyes narrow at him. “I just think I ought to be prepared. Now that it’s NEWT year, there’s so much more reading, and I’ve had to start on the schedules for prefect duties too. There’s just a lot to do.”

“And what about ‘spew’?” This only deepens her scowl, but he delights in it. “You starting that up again?”

“You mean S-P-E-W?” she says, tone haughty, before heaving a sigh. “I’m not sure, honestly. My two most active members won’t be there with me.”

“Your most active members?” chuckles Ron. “We only joined under duress.”

She scoffs. “You were hardly under duress-“

“We were!” he exclaims. “You came marching in with your badges, told us we were joining and demanded two Sickles from us. Didn’t have much of a choice, did we?” He laughs again at the recollection. “You even gave us jobs - I was treasurer, wasn’t I?”

“According to the governing documentation, yes, you were,” she confirms with a nod. “Harry was secretary, but he was awful at it. He never took minutes at any of the meetings.”

She joins him in laughter, then, and leans into him, and for a second everything is perfect.

“Like I said,” Ron grins, dropping her hand to wind his arm around her shoulders. Idly, his fingers trace random shapes into the fabric of the jumper. “We were under duress.”

Hermione purses her lips as she looks up at him. “So you’ve changed your tune again, then, from a couple months ago?”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes are shining now, alight with mirth. “I seem to recall a certain someone being very concerned about the welfare of the Hogwarts elves.”

The memory crashes over him like it’s done countless times since it happened: the Room of Requirement, the castle shaking around them, and the never-ending queue of students escaping to the Hog’s Head.

“I just wanted them safe, that’s all,” he says simply. “It’s not like I was standing round trying to think of ways to impress you.“ He sets a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. “Though, it looks like it worked.”

Ron smiles at her, but his amusement fades when she doesn’t return it, instead puzzling up at him. “That’s not why I kissed you.” As his stomach twists, she adds, “not really, anyway. It didn’t have anything to do with S-P-E-W.”

His fingers stop moving across her shoulder. It had seemed so simple, months ago, when his mind was spinning to process the turn of events: he’d finally done the right thing. Finally proven himself worthy. Had put the last missing piece into place, right in the nick of time, just as everything else was falling apart.

“It is that I looked so dashing about to charge into battle, then? Was that it?”

His attempt at humor falls flat. She’s still contemplative, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance. As Ron watches, her teeth scrape over her lower lip.

“I thought we were going to die.”

The words hang there between them as something tightens painfully in Ron’s chest. Everything about this thing with Hermione has been so marvelously unexpected, right down to the fact that it’s happening at all, but he still didn’t think he would hear that. 

He’s not sure what he even thought she would say. Something perhaps about how she can’t live without him, or maybe something remarkably Hermione-ish about how he had finally ticked all the boxes of her boyfriend criteria and was now deemed suitable. Just not imminent demise. 

Not as the main reason, anyway.

“So did you,” she says gently when he remains quiet. “You said ‘it’s now or never’.”

“I know.” Thoughts swirl through his anxious mind, slowly formulating themselves into something worth speaking. “I just thought it was about more than ‘we’re about to die, so I may as well’.”

She recoils, clearly stung, and pulls her legs roughly off his lap; his arm drops off of her shoulder. “That’s not what I was thinking at all, actually-“

“Well, then - what if it never happened?” he presses on, even as he can see, as though he’s watching himself from above, that he’s on the verge of ruining the best thing he’s ever had. “What if that battle never happened, or I hadn’t said what I did? Would…” The words stick momentarily in his throat. “Would we even be here right now?”

“If that battle hadn’t happened, we’d probably still be starving in the woods somewhere with Harry,” she says, fingers toying with the lush grass between them. “But I don’t really know, because it did happen, and it changed everything.”

“Yeah, it did,” he agrees. “But is it - are you saying that everything changed but you want to… go back to how it was?”

“No,” she says, with such force that he recoils. “No, of course not-” She shakes her head, baffled. “Ron, we’ve - we’ve been having sex, we’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other-”

He holds his hands up, at a loss. “People get caught up in things-”

She goggles at him. “I have no idea how you can think for even a second-”

“Because you just said you thought we were going to die-“

“So did you-“

“But then we didn’t.” The words fall heavy between them. “Now we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, and I’m…” 

He hesitates, because baring his soul isn’t something he’s ever been remotely comfortable doing, but then he figures that there’s no harm in honesty. If he’s going to lose her, he at least wants to know that nothing’s been left unsaid.

“I’m scared.” He can feel her eyes on her, though he can’t bear to look. “I’m scared that now it’s not ‘I’m going to kiss him because we’ll be dead within the hour’, it’s this thing that you’ve done that has consequences now-“

“Consequences?!”

“Yeah, consequences. You kissed me ‘cause didn’t think you’d ever have to deal with it afterward, and I…” He exhales heavily through his nose. He can feel himself shaking. “And I’m scared you got more than you bargained for.”

There’s not a sound to be heard, save the occasional chirping of birds and the trickling of the nearby stream. Beside him, Hermione shifts onto her knees and sits back on her heels. Her hands land on his thigh, warm and grounding despite the damp chill in the air. 

“Ron.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “When you said ‘it’s now or never’... what did you mean by that?”

He forces himself to meet her gaze and finds only concern there, only affection. 

Maybe it’s not completely bungled after all.

“I just didn’t want to die having never kissed you.” Of their own accord, his hands slip around hers. “My life can be complete without a lot of things, but it wouldn’t have been complete without that.”

Hermione swallows, head bobbing in a shaky nod. And yet, beneath the nerves, there’s a glimmer of happiness. 

“I felt the same way - feel the same way. I still do. When you said what you said, about the elves, and Dobby...” The corners of her lips twitch into a faint semblance of a smile. “It didn’t really have anything to do with them specifically. It just reminded me of how wonderful you are, and - and why I love you. I just couldn’t see the point in waiting anymore.”

He picks up her hand, kisses the back of her knuckles. “I love you too.”

Using her hand to tug her close, he leans in to kiss her, but just as their lips meet, she starts laughing against his mouth.

“Do you really think that I just start kissing people for the sake of it whenever I’m in mortal danger?” Even as she’s teasing him, the smile she gives him is downright adoring. He’s not sure what made him question this for even a second, because the proof is right there in front of him. “Is that really what you thought happened?”

“No, of course not,” he laughs along with her. “I just reckoned…” He pauses as the right words slowly come to him. “I guess I just never thought we’d actually have this.”

Her smile fades. “Ever?”

He shrugs. “Somewhere along the way, I just stopped letting myself picture any kind of future, especially a good one, and this - I just reckoned this would be another thing that went wrong. And I wouldn’t get to have everything I want with you.” 

Hermione looks at him, eyes dark and intense, and then swings a knee over him to straddle his lap. With hands half-covered in maroon wool, she cups his face and presses her lips firmly to his. He sinks into it, tension seeping out of him at her touch: it really is going to be okay. It’s the first time he’s actually let himself believe it, even with the war firmly behind them. It finally feels safe to let that hope rise above all of the uncertainty and the anxiety that’s had a hold on him for so long. The future doesn’t just consist of stolen minutes and hours and days anymore. It’s weeks and months and years, and she’s in every single one of them.

“I think you’ve actually gone a bit mad,” says Hermione fondly as her hands slide down to the sides of his neck.

“Yeah, well.” Ron tugs lightly on the sides of her jumper. “Whose fault is that?”

“Just for the record,” she goes on, taking that lofty tone that should drive him mad but that he actually loves, “I kissed you because I want all of that-”

“I know, I know.” He steals a quick kiss, smiling when she leans in for more. “Reckon I already did, it’s just hard to believe sometimes.”

“For me, too,” she admits. Her fingertips graze along his shoulders, down to the scarred skin of his forearms, and she tilts her head in alarm at him. “Ron!”

“What?”

“You’re freezing!”

Another shrug. “A bit, maybe-”

“And here I am hogging your jumper, we really ought to go inside-”

“But I don’t really care,” he tells her plainly. “I just wanted to spend as much time with you as I could.”

“We’ve got time.” Her voice is soft, reassuring, soothing the last edges of his self-doubt. “We’ve got plenty of it now.”

He considers this. They’re eighteen years old, and life stretches out ahead of them with no end in sight. Perhaps he doesn’t actually have to grasp desperately at every second anymore.

“Right.” He pats the sides of her legs. “Get up, then. It’s about to be time for lunch, anyway.”

She clambers off of him, and they rise to their feet, brushing stray blades of grass from their jeans as they walk toward the house. He does feel a bit less frantic now. Hogwarts still looms in the future, but there’s still so much more to come. 

As they traipse through the garden, Hermione’s hand worms into his, her other one wrapping around his upper arm. He looks down to see her beaming at him.

“I was just thinking,” she says, “that just because I’ll be away, it doesn’t mean you can’t still be involved in S-P-E-W. Maybe you can even head up the London chapter-“

Ron holds up a hand to stop her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

[masquerade-story]

Chapter 4 - Memories

Lillian awoke late into the evening, after everyone collectively agreed to take a nap and process everything Crystal told them. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so she carefully rolled out of bed to avoid disturbing Grey, who'd crawled into her bed for comfort like he always did when he was upset, and padded quietly out of the bedroom.

Since there wasn't going to be any sort of heating bill, they'd left the mysteriously working heater on to combat the unexpectedly cold weather. Lillian stopped by a window to peek outside, and was momentarily startled when she could pick out individual leaves on distant trees.

"Right, our vision got all fancy." Lillian laughed softly at herself, turning her gaze from the trees to the starry sky.

An unfamiliar sky.

Three moons scattered across the horizon, a couple of planets close enough for their rings to be distinct to the naked eye, and a brilliant aurora ribbon streaming across more stars than Lillian ever remembered seeing when she looked up back on Earth.

"There's no North Star," she whispered to herself, her warm breath briefly melting some frost on the window glass. "Different constellations, different horoscopes... I wonder how long a year is here? Or a season? Can we... Even communicate with people to find out?"

An oppressive sense of loneliness settled in her chest. Lillian blinked back a few tears and turned away from the window, resuming her earlier mission of a glass of juice. She slipped downstairs into the kitchen, drank an entire glass, and went to bring her second cup upstairs in case she woke up again, when a soft sound caused her to pause mid-step toward the stairs.

Sobbing. Wretched, mournful sobbing, from the living room which currently had no light on.

Lillian felt her heart clench in sympathy, and changed route.

Rayne sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a blanket around her shoulders and a phone in her hands. She glanced up when Lillian approached, hurriedly dashing her tears with the corner of the blanket. "H-hey, what's up?"

Lillian had the sense to put her juice cup down on an end table before sitting heavily on the couch, encroaching on Rayne's personal space with reckless abandon. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. Why are you down here alone in the dark?"

"Oh, I..." Rayne muttered, her gaze flicking back to the phone. Lillian glanced down, and saw a photo of Rayne and her boyfriend trying on mouse hats during their trip to Disneyworld. His expression was exasperated, but his affectionate gaze was fixed on Rayne's laughing face.

Rayne locked her screen and set the phone down, but it was too late and she knew it. She retreated further into the warmth of her blanket, faking a shiver to cover the fact she was trying to hide her face.

Neither Rayne nor Crystal appreciated it when other people saw them cry, but Lillian knew that it was sometimes exactly what someone needed, whether they wanted it or not. So she leaned on Rayne's shoulder, resting a gentle hand on the other woman's knee.

"You know," Lillian said softly, closing her eyes. "There's three moons."

Rayne was quiet for a moment. Then she sniffled, before whispering: "Really?"

"Yeah. And some ringed planets, and an aurora. Wanna see?"

The bundle of blanket shook in a hesitant nod, and both Lillian and Rayne moved to sit on the window seat overlooking the front yard, keeping throw pillows between them and the frozen glass to seal in their bodily warmth.

Silence stretched on between them as they stared together at the foreign night sky. Whenever Rayne gave a soft cry or pained whimper, Lillian reached over to squeeze her hand without turning to look at her, giving the other woman a measure of privacy while still providing comfort until she was ready to talk.

"It's unfair," Rayne whispered finally, reaching out of the blanket to draw a frowning face on the frosty glass.

Lillian nodded. "It ate our bonds so they all forgot us, but we still have to remember them? It's totally unfair."

"Actually..." Rayne looked over, locking gazes with Lillian, her dark brow furrowed. "That's the thing. Lils, do you remember your parents?"

"Of course. Robin and Larry-"

"Their faces, Lils."

Lillian opened her mouth, then immediately shut it. Her curious expression turned to one of realization, then panic suffused with horror. "No, I... What...?"

"I don't remember his face if I'm not looking at the photo," Rayne said, crossing her arms tightly under the blanket. "I don't remember his voice anymore. I did at first, but... Every passing moment, it's harder to remember the times we shared. The bad, the good. Even while looking at the photos! And I just... I felt like I should have a good cry, while I still felt enough lingering emotion for him to do it."

Lillian felt as though her heart was caught in her throat. She swallowed, swallowed again, then wheezed as she tried to remember how to breathe. Rayne hurriedly wrapped her arms around Lillian's shoulder, squeezing tight in a hug that contained all her comfort and sympathy.

"We'll do everything we can to remember, them, okay?" Rayne whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "Let's go wake Grey and Crystal, then we can all start writing stuff down. Alright?"

Nodding, Lillian clung desperately to Rayne's hand as they both hurried upstairs, rolling their respective siblings out of bed for an emergency meeting. Grey's horror was contrasted starkly by Crystal's numb nodding, as she apologized for not realizing it would happen. They dug into the boxes of personal belongings, finding some notebooks and pens, and sat together in the master bedrooms writing down everything they remembered about Earth and their loved ones until well into the next morning.

"On the one hand it's a mercy," Grey said sleepily, as he doodled another picture of his parents in the margins of his notebook. "So we won't be grieving our loss very long, I guess? But it still feels..."

"Wrong," Lillian mumbled, looking through her phone for a picture of her cat to use as a reference.

"It's not like the time was wasted," Rayne said, adding another bullet point to the list she was writing. "Our experiences shaped who we are whether we remember them or not. It does feel pretty crappy, though..."

"I wonder, will they forget us like this?" Lillian asked, unable to stop the words in her heart from escaping. Her hand paused above the page, the pen in her hand shaking violently. "Will they just... Slowly forget us? Or was it sudden and merciful? Because this... This is cruel."

"Cruelty implies intention," Crystal said softly, her voice shaking almost as much as Lillian's pen. "That... Thing. The Eater. It didn't have any malice, it was just hungry. But I dunno if that makes things better or worse..."

"I dunno man, you ever seen a cat catching prey? Pretty sure eating something alive has some inherent malice in it." Grey grumbled, trying to force his chicken scratch handwriting into something legible.

Crystal, who'd already given up on her own handwriting and embraced the chaotic glyphic nature of her lettering, nodded sagely in agreement. "That's true. I got the impression the Eater wasn't exactly sentient or sapient though. More like a force than a being, if that makes sense? Or maybe I just can't conceive of it, since that thing exists outside our dimensions of understanding."

"You say that so easily, do you even know how wild that whole statement was?"

"Do you even know how wild this whole situation is?"

"Look, we've passed absurdity at this point. Now I'm just down with whatever weirdness comes our way."

"We don't have to pay bills anymore," Rayne said slowly, staring at her paper. Her handwriting was the neatest by far, and she'd finished writing down most important events she could think of, but she kept having a nagging feeling she'd left something out so she kept reading the pages over and over hoping to trigger another memory. "We won't have to buy groceries unless there's things we want specifically that wasn't in our house to begin with. The electricity will never go out, damage to the property will be repaired, and even though we're in a new world with unknown levels of development and technology, we will never have to worry about toilet paper. In exchange for a very comfortable standard of living, we lost our connection to our home and families."

"Personally speaking I think it's fair," Crystal said with a scoff. "But that's because our family sucks so I'll be glad to forget them. All my most important people are here with me! I know Robin and Larry will take good care of all our cats, my exes all sucked, and my other friends will get along just fine without me. I don't have anyone to worry about, just regrets for stuff I never got to do. Like visiting the Grand Canyon, or going on a long cruise."

"I wanted to hike around Europe someday..." Rayne said wistfully.

"I wanted to vacation in the tropics. Or maybe Spain? For like, two years. With some hot guys and infinite fruity alcohols." Grey said, staring off into space with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I wanted to be famous enough for us to visit the space station," Lillian sighed. Grey snorted, and everyone started laughing in a combination of absurdity and delirium from lack of sleep. They started listing everything they could think of, starting with shopping sprees and game show appearances, and ending with complex bank and casino heists to dismantle capitalism.

When Crystal started dozing off while sitting up, they all agreed to get some sleep for real. The notebooks were stacked lovingly on one of the end tables, which reminded Lillian to run downstairs and chug her long-forgotten cup of juice in the living room before trudging back upstairs into bed.

------

"We can't just stay in the house forever, right?" Grey muttered as he stared out the living room window later that night, curled up on the window seat with his knees hugged to his chest.

"Technically we could," Rayne said, drumming her fingers against the recliner arm as she waited for her laptop to boot. "Infinite food and basic supplies, stuff for our hobbies... We have our instruments, we have our computers and game consoles and several external drives worth of movies and books and music since you and Crystal obsessively insist on collecting or hoarding anything of interest for later use."

"Hey, hey." Grey wagged a finger and feigned an offended scowl. "Look at our situation. How bored would we be if the two of us didn't hoard everything? In fact, maybe our desire to hoard entertainment was preparing for this day!"

"Damn psychics always preparing for everything they couldn't possibly know about," Rayne muttered rebelliously, and Crystal laughed. She'd stretched out on half of the corner couch taking up an entire section of the living room by itself, looking cozy with a pile of blankets and her special edition Switch.

"It's only gonna get worse from here, Ray."

"Open your town, I need to sell my oranges," Lillian interrupted, nudging Crystal's feet from her spot on the other side of the corner couch.

"Alright, lemme finish making this waterfall first."

"Your villagers are never gonna have scurvy again for like, three generations."

"That many oranges? Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"If they don't want an entire island nation's agricultural sector's worth of citrus they should learn to adjust their economy for inflation."

"You know the shop is run by literal children, right?"

"It's good to learn early that nepotism leads to ruin. The business world is harsh and so am I."

Rayne chuckled at the sound of Lillian's low, malicious cackling, but her expression swiftly turned serious. "What do you mean it's gonna get worse, Coco?"

"All four of us have abilities for real, right? Being in this world is gonna make them grow exponentially, whether we try to train them or not. New ones will pop up too, or existing ones will change a little as they grow. Okay Lils, gate's open." Crystal spoke nonchalantly, but every word drained a bit more color from Rayne's face. Meanwhile, Grey turned away from the window with an excited glint in his eyes.

"So psychic powers can get real strong in this world?"

"Yeah. The impression I got when we were coming over was... Magic exists here, and it's something anyone can learn to use with practice. But abilities like ours, psychic powers? Those you have to be born with, and it's rare. That's about as much as I know about it though," Crystal sighed and shrugged.

"Can you list everything you know about our situation?" Rayne said, opening a new document on her computer and typing away with her nose inches from the laptop screen. "I wanna write it all down. I got the thing about our bonds and memories, and the house being indestructible-"

"It's not indestructible, just protected." Crystal seemed startled as soon as the words left her mouth, as though the information was somehow new. She furrowed her brow, nose wrinkling as she carefully examined her thought process. "I see, protected... Like a barrier, almost? It'll always rebuild itself and restock supplies overnight no matter what happens, even if it's all burnt to ash, but the property itself is also shielded unless we draw attention from a big threat."

"A big threat? Like what?"

"I don't know. Big animals like those Nessies on the beach yesterday. Or monsters like the Eater, maybe?"

"Monsters?!" Lillian sat up straight, pulling her feet under her body. "There's monsters!?"

"There's magic, why wouldn't there be monsters too?" Grey pointed out, but his twin just stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's just an assumption," Crystal hurriedly explained. "For my power to work, I'd have to come into contact with stuff related to what I want to know about in order to get more information, I can't just pull stuff out of the ether whenever I have questions!"

"Then how do you know what you know already?"

"Well, we were in contact with the house. The house is made with really powerful magic, so I learned magic exists, and that it was used to make the house echo and ensure our supplies remain the same. I think I also learned about the barrier then, but didn't think about it or really absorb the info cuz I was thinking about other things, so it only just popped up." Crystal shrugged and let out a half-hearted laugh.

"What about the Eater?"

"The Eater was menacing us directly and I looked at it so I was able to get some info on it and the bond-eating shenanigan, but not much else because it's way stronger than me, I think? And my power activated as soon as we started our... Transfer, I guess? Away from Earth. And you all were in the room with me, so I knew you all had powers as well as myself, got the basic gist of how mine work, and that we'd all get much stronger whether we wanted to or not. That's really about it for what I know. I told you it wasn't much."

"Why the house though?" Rayne muttered. "It just wanted to eat our bonds and it did that. So why did it drop us on another planet, and why give us this cushy house echo thing?"

Crystal shrugged again. "I honestly have no idea. I think I could know if I got a lot stronger, but... That won't be any time soon. I can tell there's a reason, though. I just dunno what."

"Maybe it's compensation?" Grey said, his expression hopeful.

"Or bait, like a beacon, so it can find us again..." Lillian whispered with a shiver, and everyone's faces fell. Seeing their reactions, she hurriedly straightened her spine and forced a smile to her face. "But it didn't hurt us, and we're all still together. Imagine if we'd been flung to different planets instead of staying together!"

"That'd really suck," Grey agreed. "So like, Crystal, your power activates if you come into contact with stuff?"

"I think so. I'd have to test it to get the hang of how things work, precisely."

Grey chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His expression made the three women exchange worried glances, especially once he started rubbing his hands together like a two-bit cartoon villain. "Looks like we got ourselves an excuse to head to that town for some reconnaissance!"

"In the snow?" Rayne asked, raising her eyebrows.

"With only summer clothes in our wardrobes," Crystal pointed out.

"We wore hiking boots for the walk up here so that'd be fine, but the warmest clothes we have right now are..." Lillian trailed off, then suddenly doubled over and started giggling.

Realization dawned on the others soon after, and Rayne covered her face with her hands. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Grey hissed, pumping his fist into the air. "That'll make one heck of an entrance, wouldn't it?"

"Our music video costumes? In PUBLIC!?" Rayne wailed while the others laughed.

"That might not be what we want to do though," Crystal said after her moment of laughter had subsided. "We don't know what kind of world this is. If they'll be friendly to strangers, especially ones who can't speak their language - or any language on this world. They won't know English, you know."

"But do we really have a choice?" Lillian asked, putting down her console and staring up at the ceiling. "We don't know anything about this world. About magic, except that it exists. About the people. And hiding here in our safe cozy house will be fine short term, but what about long term? Are we gonna spend our whole lives holed up in here?"

"I, for one, embrace the forest witch hermit lifestyle," Grey said. "And I know Crystal does too."

"Sure do. Cottage life."

Rayne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't wanna be caught completely off guard by whatever nonsense comes our way. We know it's winter, but we don't know what the other seasons are like yet. What if they have a raining magma and diamonds from the sky season? We can't apply Earth logic here! Or if we can, we don't know to what extent! There were dinosaurs on the beach!"

"That's a fair point. There were indeed dinosaurs on the beach. Counter points?"

"There were dinosaurs on the beach."

"A fair counter point as well. I do want to see the dinosaurs up close."

"From a safe distance."

"Up close from a safe distance, of course."

"Plus, we don't know what's gonna happen with our powers. You said they'll get stronger, what does that mean?"

"I don't know. More powers will manifest, I think? And the ones we have already will be more potent. But I don't know how potent, or what exactly will happen."

"Exactly! You psychically downloaded only a little info about our situation and it gave you a nasty seizure! Right?"

"Pretty much."

"So what if something worse happens? A big huge infodump? If you can't control your powers, or shut it off when needed or whatever, what if..." Rayne's shoulders sagged.

"What if I have a big seizure every time I use my powers now?" Crystal finished, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah, I was wondering about that too. Honestly, everything about our situation has me so terrified I've circled back around to just feeling numb about it all."

"That's a hell of a mood," Grey sighed, stretching out on the window seat and propping his feet up against the wall. "Everything's happening so much, am I right? It's hard to be freaked out about everything simultaneously. It's easier to just phase out of existence, mentally speaking."

"I... Have an idea."

Everyone turned to look at Lillian, who sat perched on the edge of the couch. She glanced at all their faces, then offered a shy smile.

"Well? What's your idea, sis?" Grey encouraged, when his sister kept fidgeting in place instead of finishing her thought.

"Well, those warmer clothes we have... They're our costumes, right? And Crystal said we dunno how people would react to that sort of outfit, or to strangers in general, but what if... I mean... We have our instruments? What if... We pretended to be minstrels?"

[taexual]

HOLIC - 45 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: fluffy start with some angst for dessert

words: 4.6k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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“I now it’s Sunday and it’s a sad day for everyone everywhere but I also know you don’t have to work on Monday, so there’s no reason for you to sulk,” Jaebum insisted, knocking on the door of your bedroom the next day, “I don’t know what to do to get you out of your room, so I’ve ordered pizza. A few pizzas, actually. Too many to eat on my own, so, please come out so I wouldn’t have to waste food.”

You’d been holed up inside the entire day – and this certainly wasn’t the first time Jaebum tried to get you to come out, God bless him – politely refusing every offer he’d made through the closed door of your room, but you knew you weren’t being fair. You knew you had to go out and explain what was going on with you, eventually. Hiding was just temporary and, honestly, childish.

So, after another tirade of knocking from a very determined Jaebum, you walked out of your room, obviously surprising him as he jumped back as soon as the door opened.

“Shit, I didn’t think that’d work,” he gasped, smiling in spite of himself. It’d only been a day since he’s last seen you and already he was displaying a poor impulse control around you.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Can’t let that food go to waste.”

“Right, well, come on,” he took your hand – even though he only considered gentle coaxing to get you to come to the kitchen, now that he saw you, he was afraid you’d sneak back into your bedroom if he didn’t physically pull you out of it the next second – and dragged you towards the empty living room area. “I don’t know what happened but—”

“Jaebum—”

“No, don’t,” he stopped you. “I get it. Sharing our problems with each other is something we’ve been doing since we moved in together, even though it wasn’t always strictly voluntary. But sometimes, it takes time to deal with certain things, so I’m not going to push you to tell me what’s bothering you if you’re not done processing it yourself.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am done. I’m done with... with everything, really. These photography events? I’m not going to do them. I won’t—”

“Oh. Are you sure that’s the right choice?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Is that why you were—”

“No, I was trying to fade into oblivion because of how long it took me to get here. Because of how long it took me to make the right choice,” you swallowed. “Listen, I ran into Jackson last night and I have to tell you something. I—”

The doorbell rang, cutting you off at the very peak of your courage. You could almost physically feel the levels of your bravery recede as soon as Jaebum asked you to wait for “just a moment” and went to greet the delivery boy with your pizzas. You didn’t feel that hungry all of a sudden.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Jaebum called out after the delivery boy left. The two cardboard boxes of pizza in his hands limited his ability to maneuver so you went over to help him lock the door. “How about we don’t talk about any of the philosophical right choices anymore, hmm? I’m afraid I’m losing you to, like, Kant. Or Freud. Or—”

You laughed at this, following him to the kitchen and picking up some plates from the cupboards while he unboxed the pizzas.

“No, I’m far from that level of thought,” you replied and then turned around to face him. “But okay. That’s fair. I won’t do that anymore.”

“Oh, don’t think it’s because I don’t want you to talk to me—”

“No, I understand. I’m not giving you any answers, anyway. You’re probably sick of me.”

“Only a little,” he teased and then laughed at your grimace. “You should go find a movie we can watch later. I’ll try to figure out why they didn’t include any of the sauces I’ve ordered.”

You raised your eyebrows, leaning closer to check the boxes he’d opened. “There are no sauces?”

“No, they’re here,” he said, suddenly locating the three small containers of sauce, all stuffed into the corner of one pizza box. “It’s all good. Go. Oh—what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

You had already managed to take three steps in the direction of your room when you stopped, turning around. “Hmm?”

“About Jackson?” Jaebum clarified, ripping the cover of one of the cardboard boxes to make it easier to transport it to his room. “You were saying something and then the doorbell—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” you felt your skin shiver. Your courage to confess the truth about everything left with the pizza delivery boy. “I—well, it’s nothing important, really. I just saw him the other day at, uh, one of the exhibitions I’ve gone to, so, that was a surprise.”

“Oh, well, I’ve already told you he’s been off doing work for his family,” he said. “Did you get to talk to him? You should have given him a kick in the ass for me, by the way – I’ve been trying to reach him non-stop the whole morning today and he hasn’t even bothered to read my texts.”

“No, I—” you started to say and then, for the briefest of moments—that you truly despised yourself for later—you felt relieved to hear him say that. The last time you saw Jackson, he wasn’t exactly accommodating to your wish to stall a bit more before you finally came clean to Jaebum. “I-I haven’t talked to him much. Just said hi, had a quick chat and that’s all.”

“Hm,” Jaebum only nodded, now more preoccupied with the logistics of the boxes he had to carry to his room. “He said he’s coming back tomorrow afternoon so I guess I’ll ambush him then.”

You chuckled at this – more out of politeness than anything else – and returned to your room to pick your laptop up. As always, your designated spot for watching movies and eating junk food was his bedroom, not yours, so you headed over there, all while attempting to come to terms with the fact that, by tomorrow afternoon, Jaebum had to learn about the details of your contract with Jiho’s gallery. It felt like Jackson was purposefully giving you this much time to gather all the necessary courage.

Jaebum joined you in the room another few moments later, which didn’t give you nearly enough time to set your mind straight, but, then again, he could have stayed back in the kitchen for the entire night and that still wouldn’t have been enough time for you to get yourself together.

“I had this frustrating dream last night,” Jaebum confessed as he plopped down on his bed. You leaned over to help him with the elaborate arrangement of the pizza, the sauces, the laptop, and his own body – his large bed felt so much smaller now. “I was stuck in some sort of a box – honestly, it felt like a casket to me – that kept moving and I—”

“Like an elevator?” you asked.

“No—well, yeah, I guess kind of like an elevator,” he said and then added, “of nightmares. Anyway, it kept moving in this spinning motion and every time the door opened, the box was upside down and above a huge precipice. So, if I wanted to get out of it, I had to very literally jump to my death. But if I stayed inside, I just wouldn’t stop spiraling until I eventually passed out from vertigo or something.”

“Huh,” you reached for a slice of pizza. “Maybe that’s a metaphor for what’s going on in your life right now? Like, you’re taking this big risk by quitting your secure job at the radio station to focus on singing instead. That is kind of like taking a leap out of a haphazard elevator.”

Jaebum scoffed. “So, my life was a haphazard elevator and now I’m about to die?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. And who’s to say you’d have died if you’d jumped out of that elevator?”

“Well, I don’t think there are many people who have survived a twenty-meter drop straight down a precipice,” he dead-panned, picking a slice of pizza up.

“I’m just saying,” you mumbled with your mouth full of food and then stopped to finish chewing. “It’s a dream. Anything can happen in dreams.”

Dipping his slice into the sauce, he considered this and then sighed. “Maybe it is a metaphor. About fear.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, but I don’t mean anything specific. Just fear in general.”

You paused again – the chewing was suddenly part of the conversation – before asking, “what are you afraid of?”

“I’m… Well, lots of things,” he said and then proceeded to count on his fingers, “death. Deep water. Those vintage porcelain—”

That sounded too much like he was purposefully avoiding answering your question and you shook your head, wiping the corners of your mouth with your fingers.

“Okay, I get that,” you stopped him. “I meant right now. Are you doing anything you’re afraid of? Aside from starting a whole new period of your life, I mean.”

Jaebum hesitated – obviously, the fear he was feeling right now wasn’t caused by any of the things he’d just mentioned – but covered it up by stuffing the remaining slice of pizza into his mouth. He took his sweet time chewing it.

“Y-yeah, but I’m not afraid of that new period,” he said finally, wiping the grease from his fingers onto his pants. You gave him a disapproving look – which he promptly ignored – as he tried to explain, “I’m just nervous about it, I guess. Excited, too. But, generally, I’m not afraid of that. There are just… these little things I’m afraid of.”

“Such as..?” you encouraged.

“I’m working on this song,” Jaebum said, avoiding your eyes as he reached for another slice.

You felt your skin break out in goosebumps – your body reacted before your mind could –  and it took you a second to understand why. Then, Jackson mentioning that Jaebum had been writing a song about you returned to your memory with an overwhelming flash. Although you didn’t know if Jaebum was talking about the same song right now, suddenly you forgot how to chew and swallowed the piece of pizza you’d bitten off whole.

You coughed, clearing your throat before you asked, “w-what kind of song?”

“It’s—it’s something I’ve been writing for a while,” he replied, completely forgetting the sauce as he took a bite of his pizza. At this point, his mind was already so far from this room that the food seemed tasteless to him anyway.

“And you’re afraid of it?” you asked since, obviously, it was hard for him to keep talking on his own.

“I… yeah,” he said. “Sort of. That sounds stupid, I get it, but—”

“It doesn’t,” you disagreed. “You’re creating something. It’s normal to be worried about it.”

“No, but I can live with worries,” he said, groaning as he put his half-eaten slice of pizza on an empty plate he’d brought. “I can’t explain what I mean. And—actually—maybe that’s exactly where the problem – or, well, the fear – lies in. I’m just… I’m scared I won’t be able to put it all into words and it won’t come out right. The song, I mean. And, sometimes, I’m scared that the song won’t come out at all. O-or, if it will, it won’t do very well.”

You squinted your eyes as you listened to him speak, trying to figure out if “the song” was a metaphor for something much deeper of if this particular song really meant so much to him. It could have also been both, of course.

“Well,” you said slowly, “do you want the song to come out?”

“I do. Of course, I do.”

“Then it will,” you said.

“Right. But what if it doesn’t do well?” he repeated himself.

“That’s not possible,” you declared. “You hate abstractions, so the song is obviously going to be about something that people can relate to with ease. People usually like things they don’t have to try hard to understand. They enjoy songs that hit close to home.”

“It’s… it’s a song about this sort of one-in-a-lifetime experience, though,” Jaebum admitted. “I’m not sure if there are many people that will actually be able to relate to it.”

“Well, even if they can’t relate, that doesn’t mean they won’t enjoy it,” you said, your hands freezing even though there was a fire blazing inside of you. “What is the song about?”

“Well… it’s a personal song,” Jaebum said. The less specific he was, the more inclined you were to believe that this was the same song Jackson had mentioned and, consequently, the less oxygen there seemed to be in the room. You couldn’t stop thinking about the possible lyrics of the song.

“Okay,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t shaking too obviously. “How much have you written? Can I hear it?”

Jaebum looked down, the abundance of thoughts in his mind – what a ridiculous contrast to the one, lonely thought that kept rotating around your mind like a loose tumbleweed in the wild wild west – making it difficult for him to find an answer to your question. He hadn’t lied to you when he said he was worried about the song not doing well – that part was true. And he also worried about it being misunderstood, that was true as well. But the thing that he was the most afraid of was the thing he couldn’t tell you about because it was hidden inside of said song.

He’d told you he focused on the most prominent emotion he was feeling when he wrote song lyrics and, this time, he tried to put all of his fear into this song. These fears – or, rather, just this one fear, in particular – had been bothering him for quite a while now: first, he had been afraid to get close to you, but after he had, he was suddenly afraid to fall in love with you. And now that he had, he was afraid to lose you.

His biggest fear was always you, and, simultaneously, it was also the absence of you. It would have surprised exactly no one to know that the song about the leading emotion he was feeling, was also a song about you.

“That’s another thing I’m afraid of,” Jaebum said after what felt like forever but was, really, no more than a minute. It was still not enough time for him to find a proper way to express himself – which was something that you could relate to.

“What? Me, hearing it?” you asked, confused.

He exhaled, nodding. “Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you said in a quiet voice, hating the uncertainty behind your words. “I love everything that you do. But I get it. You can play it to me when you’re ready.”

Even though Jaebum didn’t respond with anything – just looked at you – his eyes burned with all that he wanted you to know and, deep down, you felt like you understood him perfectly. Frankly, you were afraid of all the same things and, sometimes, finding the right words – however obvious they were – to express yourself and to cause that fear to dissipate, didn’t come easy. You knew that better than anyone as you procrastinated on the confession of truth – yet again – out of fear of disrupting the Sunday night bliss.

Finally, long after the pizza was finished and the movie – and the sequel that you couldn’t stop yourselves from watching – was completed, you and Jaebum started to stretch. Laying in one spot and barely breathing could have easily mummified a person. Jaebum yawned, stretching his hands above his head, and then turned to you.

“Can I tell you something?” he said, his eyes red and hazy from the intense staring at the computer screen.

“Of course,” you replied, his yawn contagious. “Anything.”

He sat up before continuing, the bones somewhere in his spine cracking uncomfortably.

“I thought…” he started to say and felt himself run into a brick wall inside of his mind. He’d tried to find the right way to say this all throughout the night – not wanting to scare you but also not wanting to seem like a pathetic loser, either – but actually opening his mouth to speak still wielded no good results. “No, you know what? Nevermind. It’s dumb.”

The longer he hesitated before speaking, the more your curiosity was taking the best of you.

“Hey, come on,” you encouraged. “Tell me.”

“No, it’s stupid, really, I just—”

“You got me all excited now! Tell me,” you insisted.

Figuring that this might happen, Jaebum sighed in defeat. “Fine. I… I thought you might have done something.”

Although you were not at all sure what he was hinting at, your heart still seemed to drop right into the pit of anxiety brewing at the bottom of your stomach.

“What?” you asked. “What do you mean? What have I done?”

He was shaking his head as soon as you started to speak, realizing now that he should have started with something else. Point-blank accusations rarely ever ended well and he felt like the one he had thrown at you was beyond stupid. Yet, for some reason, he still wanted to talk to you about this.

“No, it’s just—the way you’ve been acting, you know?” he tried to say, smiling for more effect. Although, the only effect his smile had was a great increase in your levels of anxiety. “Like, I know I said I don’t want you to philosophize about anything anymore but… all of this secrecy and these half-answers you’ve been giving me whenever I asked you about how your exhibition was going… I just thought you dropped it or something and were too afraid to tell me.”

You weren’t expecting him not to notice your behavior at all – he was far too perceptive for that – but, somehow, you’d naively hoped he wouldn’t bring it up.

“The exhibition?” you clarified, caught off guard. “N-no, I haven’t dropped it. That’s still… well, I hope it’s still happening.”

“Okay. I mean, don’t get offended or anything, I’m just being paranoid,” he said and then, with a nonchalant chuckle, added, “but I really thought you either dropped the exhibition, or… or you actually did have to sleep with someone to get it.”

Finally, you looked up from the hole that you’ve dug for yourself by omitting the truth from him, and realized how deep it was. You could barely see the surface anymore.

“W-where did you even—” you tried to ask but Jaebum jumped in to explain himself.

“It’s because of that conversation we had the other day,” he said. “When you asked me how far I was willing to go in order to—”

Suddenly panicking because, apparently, you’d let Jaebum come to some shocking conclusions—that weren’t all that far from the truth—without meaning to, you waved your hands in dismissal and tried to cut in.

“Oh, no, I was just—”

“Yeah, I told you it was stupid,” he spoke over you, his warm gaze trying to calm you down, albeit unsuccessfully. The raw ends of your nerves were flickering with anxious electricity. “I was just worried about you. I want to know what’s going on. You’ve been with me every step of the way, you know the names of everyone at my agency, basically. I want to be the same for you. But, forget it, I’m just being dumb.”

He stopped talking and, although no more than five seconds could have passed before you opened your mouth to speak, it felt like you could have counted to a million and back in the time that neither of you spoke. The silence was so thick with all the things you haven’t told him – and were, evidently, about to spill – that you could barely breathe, let alone find a way to soften the blow you were about to strike Jaebum with.

You started, your throat hurting with every word, “you’re not being dumb. There’s…. There actually is something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a while ago.”

The electricity from your body seemed to transfer onto his as Jaebum’s face paled all of a sudden. “Oh, wow.”

“What?”

He grasped his chest over his shirt. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“What?” you gasped, frowning. “W-why?”

“Carry on!” he encouraged abruptly. “You can’t just start a sentence like that a-and with this… this expression on your face. You look like you’re about to tell me you’ve found a basement with a hundred rotting bodies inside of it and you’ve been trying to find a way to bring them all back to life.”

“No, it’s not that,” you shook your head, far too nervous to acknowledge how ludicrous that statement sounded or even joke about how he obviously thought you were cosplaying as Frankenstein on the side. “It’s—it’s nothing serious, really. I’m blowing this way out of proportion and I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you, I just—”

“Out with it, please,” he pleaded. “My poor heart.”

You were absolutely driving him out of his mind – and body, by the looks of it; he looked like he was ready to astral project into three different dimensions at the same time – but you simply could not find the right words. In fact, you didn’t think such words even existed anymore – it was far too late to let Jaebum know about Jiho slowly and convince him that it wasn’t a big deal.

“Right, right, sorry,” you said and then cleared your throat. “Well, erm, see, the person who ended up contacting me—the, uh, the agent from the gallery we’ve been to? It’s… it’s actually someone I know.”

“Someone you know?” Jaebum frowned. He’d been expecting a huge revelation that was going to blow his mind and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with what you’ve told him. His nerves wouldn’t let you explain, however, as he burst into a tirade of confused questions, “what, like a professor from college or something? Are you saying this is some sort of photographer-version of insider trading? Do you think they only invited you to meet with them because they know you? Because, let me tell you right now, that’s not—”

“No, Jaebum,” you stopped him. “It’s Jiho.”

One impossibly loud heart beat later, Jaebum blinked his eyes and shut his mouth. “Hmm?”

“That agent,” you clarified, your voice fading. “T-the person responsible for my exhibition. It’s Jiho. I-I’ve been working with him.”

He stared at you and you swore you’ve never been more scared of anything in your life like you were scared—petrified, really—of the utterly blank look in his eyes. You usually struggled with reading his emotions but, at the very least, you knew there were emotions to look for. Right now you couldn’t find a single one.

“I didn’t tell you sooner because I was afraid of your reaction,” you chose to add after a yet another ridiculously long pause.

“Why?” Jaebum asked. There was a change to his voice and the room got unbearably chilly. “What did you think I was going to do?”

“I don’t know. I know you don’t like him and I just—I know it’s nothing, I was just nervous,” words spilled out of your mouth as you focused on how vulnerable his empty eyes made you feel. You had no guesses about what he was going to do or say next. “A-and I didn’t want to ruin your mood when everything with your career seemed to be going so well.”

“W-why would that ruin my mood?” he shrugged his shoulders. The nonchalant act he was putting on was so incredibly transparent, you could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue.

“Well, you know,” you said, all of the excuses you’ve come up with had escaped you. “It’s, uh… I had to go to these events with him. For publicity. Like I’ve told you.”

“Ah,” Jaebum nodded, slowly sitting up and taking his feet off the bed. “So, you’ve been fake-dating Jiho is what you’re saying.”

You’ve been blessed with never having to experience standing at gunpoint before. But sitting right here and telling Jaebum all that you should have told him days ago, felt an awful lot like talking in front of a loaded sniper. And now that he’d gotten up, you thought you could see his finger approach the trigger.

“I—” you started to say but Jaebum interrupted.

“And you didn’t tell me because you were afraid of my reaction,” he repeated, heading for the door.

You lowered your head as a half-nod. “Y-yes, I didn’t want—w-where are you going?”

He didn’t stop crossing the hallway as he called out in an eerily calm tone, “just to get a drink.”

“A drink? We have—Jaebum?” you leaped off the bed when he still didn’t stop and ran after him, making sure to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two. Not because he scared you when he was like this but because you felt like he didn’t want you that close right now. “Jaebum, please.”

His voice was like static when he spoke – no signs of what he was feeling whatsoever.

“Please what?” he said. “I’m getting water.”

He really was and, even though you could still remember watching him reach for the glasses on the top shelf of the cabinet the very first time you’ve had breakfast together, now you realized you’ve never seen the strained muscles of his back look so menacing.

“No, but I can see the way your muscles are clenched. You look like you want to punch… something,” you pointed out quietly.

“I do not,” he replied with his back turned to you as he turned the tap on, not bothering to switch it to cold water, and poured some into his glass. He took a sip but it looked like he couldn’t taste anything.

“Jaebum—”

“So, these events, then,” Jaebum turned around, putting the glass down so vehemently, you thought it was going to crack. “How many of them have you gone on with him as your date?”

Your teeth grazed against your tongue as you swallowed.

“He wasn’t my—n-not many, just a few, really,” you said, trying desperately to find something else to add to make this sound less awful. “But I’m not doing them anymore. I told him so. I gave him an ultimatum.”

“And Jackson,” Jaebum concluded, remembering what you’ve mentioned earlier. “You ran into him while you were out with Jiho, yeah?”

“I-I—”

He was already walking past you before you could reply, dropping his coldest sentence yet, “I have to go.”

You wanted to grab his hand and stop him but, sensing your intentions, he crossed his arms before he quickened his pace towards his coat, hanging in the hallway.

“Go?” you asked, almost running after him. “Go where? It’s—”

“I have to go,” he repeated sternly, not wasting his time to even glance at you as he tossed his coat over his shoulders, not bothering with the sleeves.

“Jaebum—let me explain, it’s really not a big deal,” you pleaded, the hopeless tone in your voice doing nothing but making him reach for the handle of the door faster. “Jaebum, it’s—Jaebum!”

He slammed the door shut before the last syllable of his name could pass your lips. In the dreadful silence that he left in his wake, you realized that his smell, that had comforted you every day for months that you’ve lived here, and your heart, that had, really, been his all along, had left the apartment with him.

        chapter directory

[sparrowofsong]

For whatever reason, I got super super into the Doki Doki Literature Club AU I thought up last night, so I decided to expand on it. Will I do anything else with it? That’s for the gods to know and me to find out.

Technically inspired by @nachosforfree, who commented “doki doki” when someone mentioned a Sanders Sides dating sim AU.

(TW for blood, suicide, self harm, abuse, manipulation, starvation -- basically just all of the warnings for DDLC.)

Patton is Monika, and the other sides don’t have specific assigned characters. Patton controls them while the game is played, switching them around each time in hopes that, eventually, he’ll find the perfect combination of roles and personalities so that the player will hate them and love him.

The sides are conscious the entire time they're puppeted, even for the off-screen events or “death”, and feel what the characters feel. Whoever acts as Yuri has to watch as he cuts himself, as he stabs himself, as he grows more possessive and insane. Whoever acts as Sayori has to watch himself tie the noose, hang himself, and desperately claw at the rope as he slowly asphyxiates. Whoever acts as Natsuki has to watch himself be abused and starved by his dad, has to watch his neck get snapped, has to watch himself walk into the classroom where he knows he’ll see his friend dead. They have to watch and feel all the random chance body horror.

The only control Patton intentionally grants them (as far as they know) is over the personality, and vaguely the appearance, of the character they play as. The delivery of the lines and actions, the eye color or an accessory (out of specific options), etc.

Unbeknownst to them, though, Patton also purposefully lightens his control during specific parts of the game, just enough to allow some vague dialogue changes, to cover their tracks. Because if those changes happen around the same places, people think that’s just a random chance sort of thing like the other intentional glitches.

Of course, even he can’t consistently control everything at once. He’s powerful, but not omnipotent. Some things can slip through even outside of his intentional gaps. But usually, he manages to catch them in time to act like he does with the programmed glitches. If the attempted rebel does enough to potentially raise suspicion (or if he just feels shitty after being rejected once again) he makes sure they regret it. And more often than not, Patton’s precautions help players disregard the out of place “glitches”.

Even after they hit every single combination, Patton still keeps trying. Again, and again, and again. They know the entire game by heart; every line of dialogue, every poem, every choice-based mini plot line, every randomly generated event. They could act it out perfectly even without being puppeted.

Eventually, after enough repeats and failures and punishments, the other sides just,, give up. They don't bother with personality, they don't bother with trying to speak to the player outside of the script. It gets to the point where Patton has to start controlling those too to avoid players picking up on it. That's how they discover that he was allowing the changes, but at that point, they just don't care.

Enter Thomas: the latest DDLC player. He plays the game blind, gets scared, doesn’t understand every single aspect, yada yada yada. A typical playthrough. Until Yuri’s death.

After Yuri kills himself, Thomas doesn't know how to speed up the scene, trying to click through each individual line. He soon gets discouraged and bored. He spends the next couple days clicking through some more lines on and off, always forgetting/not caring to exit the game in between.

The effects of the game’s events are put on hold when the game is closed, and removed entirely once the character is "deleted”. Otherwise, the sides are continuously existing as the characters in their current state. Which means Remus, this current Yuri, has been living with the pain of three stab wounds for this whole time.

At some point during Thomas mindlessly clicking through the nonsense, one of the lines is actually something legible, and he almost misses it.

“Please... please skip forward. It... hurts.”

And it seems just a little odd? But, y’know, maybe the game just eventually auto-reminds people so they didn’t have to click through everything if they forgot about the skip option.

He gets to the day of the festival, and before Natsuki comes in with his line, Yuri's dialogue box pops back up with "Please keep playing. Just... a few more minutes. Please."

That's a little more weird. But so's the whole game, right?

Natsuki comes in, and says his usual lines. But right before the screaming and vomiting as the script dictates, he pauses, and Thomas swears he sees an expression of pity cross his face. The dialogue box shows a very tiny line reading "Please keep playing. Don't let him sit there anymore." 

It only lasts for a moment before immediately switching to the scripted terror. The transition is so awkward that it doesn't really sit well with Thomas. But it's probably like that to seem more meta. Or it's just bad writing. Right?

Monika's smile when he arrives seems slightly different than before. Almost forced. Thomas can't tell if it was like that before or not, so he takes a screenshot to compare later. He was considering googling it then and there, but after the pleas to hurry, he kinda felt like it'd be rude. Even if it was just a game. 

When Monika "deletes" Natsuki and Yuri, he hears a whispered "Thank you" and freaks out. Literally the only other audible human sounds in the game are breathing, a "baa", and the credits song, and there's a chance he didn't even hear the first two, and he wouldn't have heard the third yet. But,,, It’s a meta horror game. So it's supposed to freak him out. That's the whole point. Right?

(They're able to do all this because after so long of completely giving up, Patton realized he didn't need to waste so much energy on keeping them in line, so he gradually began using less and less. At this point, he's hardly using any more than necessary to have them play the part, and is a little rusty. They took advantage of it this one time out of desperation, and now that they've already started, they're doing as much as they can to get Thomas to listen before Patton takes them down again.)

Monika looks pissed before quickly forcing another smile and continuing his lines. The game goes the same way, Thomas eventually figures out to delete Monika, and Sayori appears to gain sentience. But instead of saying "I wanted to thank you for getting rid of Monika", the dialogue box shows "I wanted to thank you for freeing Yuri", and "Yuri" glitches into "Remus" on and off. 

When Thomas clicks, instead of going to the next line, the previous one glitches into "I wanted to thank you for getting rid of Monika" like it was supposed to be. The rest of the dialogue proceeds normally until Monika returns. 

Sayori's line glitches back and forth from "W-What's happening...?" to "Don't trust him!"

Rather than saying "I won't let you hurt him", Monika says "I won't let you lie to him." 

And instead of "Who..." "I-It hurts...", Sayori's final dialogue is "NO!"

The game continues and ends as programmed. Thomas just kinda goes "...What the fwuh?" before immediately looking up details about the game to see if this is all normal.

Surprise surprise: It isn't. No matter how long he researches, and despite all of Patton's precautions, the conclusion is the same: everything after Yuri's death is completely unique to his playthrough. No one else had those dialogue changes. Monika's smile in the screenshot is, in fact, different from his earlier smiles. There are not supposed to be any audible words besides the ending song. And there is no mention of a "Remus" anywhere.

There is definitely something up here. After he gives up searching for answers, he resolves to play again soon, and tries to commit to memory what's supposed to happen in the meantime.

Up until this point, their common area was a house a good bit away from the setting the events of the game took place in. They had a fair radius around the house to walk around, entertain themselves, etc., and were about as free as they could get while in that area. But, see, uh, Patton’s sorta really fucking pissed now.

Patton restricts the boundaries to just the house for everyone, and locks Logan, Remus, and Deceit (Natsuki, Yuri, and Sayori, respectively) into separate rooms, to make sure they can’t plan something else. He promises that they'll be playing the exact same roles every single time the game gets played, especially to decrease more suspicious changes if Thomas plays again, until he decides otherwise.

He hopes that Thomas will simply uninstall the game so that they'll move onto another player (because that's how I've decided it works don't question the logic). Unfortunately, he does not, and he decides to play again. 

Upon learning this, the three rebels decide that if they're fucked anyway, they may as well take this opportunity to give everything they've got in hopes that they can get Thomas to help them.

Which means Patton has to find some way to balance keeping them under his complete control, keeping Roman and Virgil from finding some way to escape the boundary and help out, and figuring out what to do with the script to undo the suspicion the three caused.

Roll for initiative!

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Director’s Cut Chapter 18: A Long Overdue Talk

Director’s cut chapter 16

Virgil woke the next morning curled around Elliott, who was trying to get out of bed. Virgil gave a soft groan before untangling their tails and rolling over. “Five more minutes.”

Elliott laughed. “Looks like someone got used to sleeping in.”

Virgil sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and floating slightly before sinking back down into the natural bed. “What time is it?”

“Just past nine.” ADHDers have a delayed circadian rhythm that makes them sleep from midnight to 10 am.

Virgil nodded, and moved to grab a fresh covering from the closet. He opened his jewelry box for the first time in a few moons and decided to go all out. He was home, he was royalty, and he wanted to show it. Before he slid the first armband on, his eyes caught on the bracelet Roman had given him. His smile was tinged with sadness at the edges but he kept it on, brushing his thumb over it. “Thank you.” He whispered.

“What was that?” Elliott asked as they turned back around.

Virgil shrugged. “Nothing. Nothing, let’s get to breakfast.”

They headed down to the dining room and took their places. Virgil’s mother commented on him being gone longer than normal but the family was used to him disappearing for moons at a time so no one made too big of a deal out of it. He tends to wander off a lot and has time blindness.

Toby and Ember were talking about Ember’s crush and how she thought a Necklace was in her future. Nate and Jasper were discussing plans for the crops. Andy, as usual, was just sitting off to the side. Virgil bumped their shoulders together as he sat. “How are you doing?”

Andy just leaned his head on Virgil’s shoulder. “I should be asking you that.”

Virgil chuckled. “I’ll be fine. How have you been holding up?”

Andy closed his eyes, looking exhausted. Virgil knew his twin like his own mind and there was something they needed to talk about. “I’ve been taking it one day at a time, Virgie. Don’t worry about me.”

Virgil laughed. “It’s my job to worry about you, silly.” He squeezed his twin’s hand as they began the meal. “We’ll talk about that later, okay?”

After the meal, Andy said he was going to be in his room so Virgil went to the garden to try to sketch out the Necklace design. He picked up the slate and writing utensils, bemoaning the loss of paper and pencil. Just as he was getting somewhere with the drawing, a knock sounded at the arch. ADHD comes with high creativity due to hyperfocus.

He looked up, hair floating in the midmorning current. “Yes?”

One of the royal guards was there, looking slightly annoyed. “Someone found a royal-finned out by the edge of town. He says he wants to talk to you.”

Virgil nodded, putting his drawings and thoughts aside. “Send him in, won’t you?” He tried to put on the princely mask he’d always worn for affairs of state like this but he found that it was eerily similar to the polite mask he’d worn at the party. An event he would rather not think of at the moment.

He had no idea who he was expecting to see but it certainly wasn’t the very person, the very human, he was trying to forget. Logan swam in, his hair a mess the current had used as a toy, his shirt rumpled and barely coming far enough down, and his legs in the form of an indigo tail that, despite Virgil’s best efforts, his brain categorized as complementary to his own and a color that looked very nice on the human prince. Logan smiled at him, his hand coming up for a tentative wave. It was the meekest Virgil had ever seen him and, despite all that had happened in the past day, it hurt.

Part of him was elated to see him again, to know that he was here with him instead of with the-. He couldn’t bear to finish that sentence. Instead, he waved the guard away and rose to stand. “What are you doing here? Better question, how did you get here?”

Logan didn’t respond, his eyes scanning Virgil. The mer crossed his arms, acutely aware of just how many bands he had and how few rings. When Logan’s eyes met his again, the human took a deep breath with a wince, clearly not used to breathing water.

“It started at the cliff. I talked with the . . . entity that you gave the stone to. They gave me a tail for three days and I set off to find you. So, I swam for what must have been three hours before time and exhaustion caught up with me and I fell asleep. I woke to a . . .” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right word before eventually just gesturing to Virgil’s tail.

“Mer. We’re called ‘mer’.” Virgil supplied in a tone that conveyed more anger than the hurt he truly felt at seeing Logan here.

“Right, a mer. She asked me which blessing I came from and where my contingent was, claiming she’d never seen me in town before. I have no idea what she meant by blessing so I just asked for you and they brought me here.”

Virgil held up a hand. “What name did you ask for specifically?”

“Virgil. I asked to see a Virgil. I described the purple tail and the side fins,” he gestured to the ones that lined his own sides, “and they brought me here.”

Virgil nodded. “And why are you here?”

Logan frowned, awkwardly moving forward until he was as close as Virgil normally allowed. “Why wouldn’t I be here?” His tone made him sound as if he had no idea what he’d done wrong.

Virgil scoffed, throwing his arms wide. “Maybe because you played with my feelings for a few moons before asking to kiss someone else?”

Logan huffed out a breath, turning to the side slightly before turning back. “How about the lying? How about the consorting with that entity, leading me on all summer, the fake amnesia? How much of that was the truth?” He paused, hurt in his eyes. “Do you even truly care for me?”

That made Virgil snap, his heart shattering. “Out of all the questions to ask!” He had to take a second to run a hand down his face, batting at his floating hair. “Do you even know what I’ve been through in the past day, let alone the past four moons?” He paused for breath, sending a glare toward Logan when the human opened his mouth to speak. “I’ve been captured by pirates who wanted to sell me for profit, made a deal for my life with Remy, faked amnesia just to get that trinket of a necklace, fallen in love with a human and I might as well have betrayed my entire blessing in the process!” Only at the end did Virgil realize he’d been raising his volume the whole time and was now shouting at someone he’d once thought he’d never hurt. Emotions too big for the event that caused them.

Logan opened his mouth to give a rebuttal but paused. “Fallen in love? How would you be betraying your entire blessing by doing so?” His voice was softer and at a lower volume.

Virgil shook his head, feeling the headache that comes with tears. His voice was shaky but he managed. “No. You don’t get to hear all of my secrets and pain while I know you’re in love with someone else.” Easily emotional and still dealing with the vestiges of RSD.

“But I’m not!” Logan ran a hand through his hair uselessly. “I thought he was you!” This was quiet, barely drifting to him.

It was Virgil’s turn to pause, hand reaching to rub his aching eyes. “What?”

“It’s a story that most people would question the sanity of but suffice it to say that the person you saw, or think you saw, was a shapeshifter using your likeness.”

The space was silent for a time before Virgil sniffled. “Does that mean . . .?”

Logan nodded, coming just shy of Virgil’s personal space. “I had wanted to ask if I could kiss you before I professed undying love.”

Virgil smiled, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “Is it too late to accept the kiss?”

Logan shook his head as his hands came up to cradle Virgil’s cheeks. Virgil’s head dipped down and their lips connected. In that moment, Virgil could have sworn time had stopped. The kiss was sweet and short but it was also everything Virgil had dreamed it would be even before he’d known he wanted it.

“Now,” Logan said when they broke the kiss, “what was that about you betraying your blessing? And, what is a blessing?”

Virgil settled back down in his seat on the sea moss, turning the slate over and hiding the picture that now served a new purpose. “A blessing is a group of mer.” He waited as Logan settled by his side, tails intertwining. “The reason I might have betrayed my blessing by falling for you is that I was willing to give up my life here and live with you on the land. Typically, once a mer chooses to leave their blessing, they aren’t allowed back in.”

Logan took his hand and gently rubbed his thumb over the back of it. “I’m grateful that you are willing to do that.”

Virgil leaned into him, his free hand sliding through the water to hover over Logan’s cheek. The human leaned into his palm and Virgil could have melted. “May I kiss you?” Virgil’s voice was a whisper that was almost a purr.

Logan smiled and leaned in.

Director’s cut chapter 19

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (143/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Tonight’s Episode:

[February 24, Age 850.   Toki Toki City.]  

"What's your name?"

"Luffa.   I'm Luffa."  

"Well I'm Pulmon, Luffa.    Just lie back and relax.   This won't take long."  

The attending physician in the Toki Toki Hospital was a green skinned alien, similar to the one Luffa had encountered during the mission Trunks had sent her on.   Only this green man had a white mustache and beard, and a fin running along the top of his head.    She expected him to hook her up to some sort of diagnostic equipment to read her vital signs, but instead, he simply placed his hands on her ribs and one of her arms.   Then a gentle glow appeared from his hands, and Luffa found that her body didn't hurt as much.   Then she realized that it was more than just an anasthetic.   Her injuries were actually healing as the man worked.    

"Where are you from?" Luffa asked.   "I've never seen your species before today."  

"Well that's not too surprising," Pulmon said with a chuckle.   "We Namekians don't get around much.    And our home planet was destroyed some time ago."  

"Do you all have this kind of power?" Luffa asked.    

"Some of us do," he said.   "We Dragon Types specializes in techniques like these.    But those of the Warrior Type focus on martial arts.    A bit like you Saiyans, I suppose."    

"I don't know about that," Luffa said.   Her thoughts kept drifting back to her recent mission, and to Raditz, the Saiyan who invaded Earth to recruit his own brother.    According to Trunks, Raditz was supposed to die in that encounter, but some mysterious enemy had tried to alter that moment in history.   Somehow, by defeating Raditz in combat, Luffa had restored the timeline to normal.    She neither knew nor cared about the mechanics of time anomalies.    What bothered her was the pitiful state of Raditz' character.    She knew almost nothing of the Namekian people, but she suspected that any comparison to Saiyans would be an insult.  Once, she had been proud to call herself a Saiyan, but recent events had forced her to rethink that pride.  

"There we are.   All finished," Pulmon said, rousing Luffa from her brooding.    

"That was... fast," she said.   "Are you sure you're done?"  

"Positive," Pulmon said.   "But if you find you still aren't feeling well, we can run some tests to make sure you're all right.    Have you been assigned quarters yet?"

"Huh?"  

"I figured you must be new in Toki Toki City if you haven't seen a Namekian before," Pulmon explained.   "I know you Saiyans enjoy a good brawl, but you really ought to get your living arrangements squared away before you jump right into your duties.  Not to mention some clothes."

She looked down at the black bandeau and shorts she was wearing.    "The purple-haired guy... Trunks.   He said he would get me some clothes later.   I... sort of ruined my last outfit."

"Well, it's pretty late in the day for that," Pulmon said.   "Why don't you spend the night here?    I'll let Trunks know and he can pick you up in the morning and show you around town."  

"Uh, sure, that sounds fine."  

He took her by the hand and led her to a room at the end of a hallway.    Another alien, this one more like Trunks' species, brought in a set of linens and pillows, and after a few minutes they shut off the lights and left, closing the door behind them.     Luffa couldn't remember the last time she had been so tired, and as she drifted off to sleep, she imagined that she would be out cold for the better part of a day.

Instead, she woke up after about four hours.    Less tired, but unable to fall asleep again.   It seemed that there was no escaping the troubles that weighed on her mind.  

She had no idea where she was.   A short time ago, Luffa had been destroying the planet Nagaoka, and most of the Saiyan race along with it.   She had been fully prepared to die along with her enemies on that shattered world, but instead she found herself magically transported here, to a place called Toki Toki City.    A man called Trunks had wished for this to happen, and a mystic wish-granting creature had made it all come true.    What confused Luffa was that Trunks hadn't even wished for anyone specific.    He just wanted a strong ally to help him with his mission.  

And Luffa had certainly been strong.   She was the Legendary Super Saiyan after all.    But Trunks didn't even know her, and then on her very first assignment, she found herself badly outclassed by Raditz, a Saiyan with an utterly pathetic power level.    She had tried to transform, to overwhelm him with her full strength, but the change just... didn't happen.   She couldn't raise her ki very much at all.    Luffa estimated that she was roughly as strong as she had been when she was a child.  

She had no idea how this had happened.    Perhaps it was a side-effect of the wish Trunks had made.    She had no idea how far the magic dragon had teleported her, or what that kind of trip might do to a person's body.    She had taken a lot of damage during the destruction of Nagaoka.    Luffa's plan had been to blow herself up, along with the entire planet, but somehow she had survived.    Even so, the release of so much raw energy must have taken a toll on her body.    But Pulmon had healed her body, and she had gotten a little sleep, and yet she didn't feel her old strength returning.    

Did it have something to do with the Oozaru form?   She had used the light of Nagaoka's full moon to turn the tables on her enemies, but the transformation had carried a tremendous risk.     Any Saiyan could become a  giant ape, and Luffa knew the Super Saiyan form very well, but before Nagaoka, she had never attempted to use both forms at once.     She had assumed that the strain would kill her, but perhaps it had simply damaged her powers.  

All Luffa knew for certain was that ever since the battle on Nagaoka, she had been unable to summon her full power, no matter how hard she tried.   Her Super Saiyan form might as well have been in another universe.  Perhaps it was lost to her forever.   She wasn't sure how to react to that.    When she first became a Super Saiyan, she was horrified by the form, and desperate to be rid of it.   Eventually, Luffa had learned to accept it as part of herself, though she still struggled with that.    

But for all she knew, the Super Saiyan power was  only a temporary condition.   She knew that the ancient Saiyan hero Chanisp had the same ability, but there was no way to know if he had it for his entire life.   Maybe there was only a set period of time that one could access the form.   Once it was gone, it was gone, and you had to go back to being normal.

What made the whole thing so frustrating was that she had no idea what the answer was, and there was no one who could help her.    Trunks and Pulmon had been kind enough to her, but neither of them knew anything about this problem.   She was the only Super Saiyan of this era, and Dr. Topsas was the only one with anything close to expertise in her unique physiology.  

It suddenly occurred to her that she wasn't so unique after all.     Maybe she never had been.  

*******

[February 25, Age 850.   Toki Toki City.]

Hours later, Luffa left the hospital and met Trunks in the waiting room.    He then led her to a an outdoor bazaar that served as the "industrial sector" of Toki-Toki City.   Nearly every structure in this place shared the same architecture: chalk-white domes or tubes, with windows around the circumference.   A few buildings looked like giant robot mushrooms, and some had additions built on with wood or brick.     She followed Trunks to one particular dome, where a robot was selling clothes.    

"Here we are.   Good ol' No. 29," Trunks said, pointing at the large black glyphs on the surface of the shop.  

"If you say so," Luffa grumbled, unable to read any of the writing in this place.  

"They should have just about any style you could ask for." Trunks said.  He then turned his attention to the robot.    "My friend here needs something to wear in the field.   Do you have a Saiyan battle jacket in her size?"  

"One moment please," the robot said, before spinning around and scanning Luffa.     "Acquiring measurements.   Query: Is there something wrong with the clothing you already have?"

Luffa had borrowed a set of scrubs from the hospital, but she hadn't taken the time to get a proper fitting.   The outfit was so loose and baggy that she had been forced to use her tail as a belt.    "I don't think this getup would hold up very long in a fight," she said.  

"Unfortunate," the robot said.   "According to my databanks, this would be quite fashionable in South City.   Scan complete, cross-referencing inventory.    Here we are."

The robot reached into a storage drawer and selected a small capsule from an assortment.    At first, Luffa thought they were pharmaceuticals, but the robot pressed a button on the capsule and tossed it over the storefront at her feet.     The capsule suddenly exploded with a puff of smoke, and when it cleared, there lay an open box filled with neatly folded clothes.  

They were blue.  

Luffa knelt down to examine the fabric, but made no effort to hide her disgust.  "Well the color's a non-starter, but besides that... You said this was Saiyan gear?   I've never seen anything like this before."

"It's a special material," Trunks said.    "It'll stretch and adjust to fit perfectly.   Even the armored jacket stretches.    You just slide it over your head."  

Luffa looked at one of the white boots like it was made of bird droppings.    "Yeah, this isn't going to work," she said.    "I like something a little roomier in the legs.    And this!"   She put her hand inside the blue shirt and pulled it tight, causing the fabric to mold around her fingers until it looked like a glove.    "I think I need something with a little more support.   Black, if you've got it."

"I always thought the Saiyan armor was pretty cool..." Trunks muttered to himself.    

After half an hour of browsing the store's inventory, Luffa finally emerged from the dressing room in something resembling her usual dress.  Her pants were baggy yellow trousers tucked into black boots, but her top was a black compression shirt with short sleeves and yellow piping on the shoulders and ribs.  Normally, she wore fingerless gloves, but the store had run out of this style, so she settled for full gloves instead.  

"It'll take some getting used to, but I think this will work," Luffa said as she swung her arms around, testing the feel of the sleeve cuffs on her shoulders.    Now, how about we get something to eat?    I thought I saw a shop with a brazier back this way, so it's as good a place to start as any.    Come on."

  "Um, sure," Trunks said, but Luffa had already marched off to follow the scent.   Just as he moved to follow her, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his black coat.    He turned to find the robot tailor holding him by one of its wiry arms, and it made a noise that sounded like someone clearing their throat.  

"Query: Who shall be paying the bill for this order?" the robot asked.    

"Oh," Trunks said.   "Well, um... you see..."

"Let's go, Trunks!" Luffa called from further away.  

With a heavy sigh, Trunks rubbed the back of his scalp with his hand.  

*******

[February 25, Age 850.   Toki Toki City.]

After their meal, they returned to the Time Vault, where Trunks briefed her on the next mission.    Eleven months after Raditz's invasion of Earth, his two comrades arrived to finish what he had started.    The Earth's defenders had taken Raditz's warnings seriously, and they had done everything possible to prepare, but there were two major miscalculations.  

"Let me get this straight," Luffa asked as she watched the mystic image on the Scroll of Eternity.    "They were counting on Kakarot to take the lead in this battle?   He's the one who got himself killed fighting Raditz, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but his friends wished him back to life," Trunks explained.   "You see, my mother invented a device that makes it pretty easy to find the Dragon Balls, and--"

"Wait, why didn't they just ask this dragon to kill the invaders for them?" Luffa asked.   "If it's that powerful--"

"He isn't," Trunks said.   "In the time I come from, Shenron no longer exists, because his creator was killed, causing the Dragon Balls to transform into ordinary stones.   Shenron can do miraculous things, but he still has limits.   Once he grants a wish, it takes months before the Dragon Balls can be used again.    And he can only grant wishes that are within the power given to him by his creator.    He can't resurrect someone more than once, for example."

"And he can't kill a Saiyan," Luffa surmised.  "At least not the ones we're dealing with right now.   But he can revive Kakarot, so that gives Earth another defender, except why would he do any better than the last time?    He was a wimp the last time I saw him, and being dead isn't exactly a great training regimen."

"It is, actually," Trunks said.   "In the afterlife, Goku was given special permission to keep his mortal body and train with King Kai.     My mother always told me that when Goku returned, his power was extraordinary.    She tried to measure his ki using Raditz's scouter, and it exploded."

"So until he could get back to Earth, his allies had to hold the line," Luffa said, pointing at the scroll.   "Except it looks like they didn't make it in time, and now Kakarot's stuck in a two-on-one situation, except he doesn't have a tail like the others."

The scroll showed Goku, now suffused with a crimson aura, desperately fleeing two giant apes.    Luffa didn't understand how the invaders could turn into Oozaru in broad daylight, but the odds were clearly in their favor.   The purple smoke wafting up from their bodies indicated that they had gotten the same power boost as Raditz, but she doubted that it made much of a difference.  

"That's where the enemy altered history," Trunks said.   "In the original sequence of events, Goku was late getting to the battlefield, and the others were overwhelmed by Nappa's power, but everything still worked out in the end.    It was a terrible battle, but they still won.   Right now, my best guess is that this dark energy must have affected their judgment somehow.    Instead of toying with their opponents and waiting for Goku to arrive, they just went all out.    Nappa alone was too much for them, but if my father decided to fight alongside him, then the others wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Your father?" Luffa asked.    "Wait, back this thing up."    

Trunks touched the scroll with his fingertips, and somehow this caused the image on the parchment to rewind itself to earlier in the battle, to when the Saiyans first arrived on Earth.   Luffa had watched this part earlier in the mission briefing, but now she paid closer attention to the two invaders.    Nappa was one of the largest Saiyans she had ever seen.   He looked like an even bigger version of Raditz, only older and bald, and with a sadistic sneer on his face that was framed by a thin mustache.    Beside him was Vegeta, who looked to be taller than Luffa, but only by a few centimeters.    The scouter on his face had obscured it somewhat, but now that Luffa knew what to look for, the resemblance was obvious.    She looked at Trunks and smiled.  

"I'll be damned," she said.   "I didn't even notice you had Saiyan blood.    The hair must have thrown me off, and it's tough to pick up a scent in this place."

"Er, right," Trunks said.    "I guess I should have told you, but it's not that unusual around here.   A lot of Time Patrollers are Saiyans.   Mostly descendants of Goku and my father, but there's others from outer space."

"Well that would explain it," Luffa said.  "Raditz called himself an 'elite', but he wasn't all that special.     I guess in this part of the universe, there weren't too many powerful Saiyans around, so the bar's a lot lower.    No wonder Shenron brought me here.   You guys needed a full-blooded Saiyan, and most of the best of them died on Nagaoka.     I'm still not quite myself, but I guess I'm all you've got."

"Uh..." was all Trunks could say.  

"No offense," Luffa said.   "Your old man looks like he could handle himself okay, but I can tell he's just another royalist flunky.    I guess he was smart enough to leave Planet Saiya, but without the Rehval Dynasty to tell him what to do, he's just a two-bit punk."    

"Are you sure you don't want to rest for a while longer?" Trunks suggested.   "Maybe we need to talk a little more before--"

"Nah, it's fine," Luffa said.   "You said this was a big problem, and I feel a lot better this morning.   And now that I know you're one of us, I'd like to show off a little.  Give you a taste of what the Saiyan race can really do."

"You've... never even heard of...?" Trunks started to ask, but before he could finish the question, Luffa had impulsively grabbed the scroll and vanished into the timestream.

*******

[3 November, Age 762.   Earth.]

Five minutes after Luffa arrived, she found herself surrounded by plant monsters.    From the sidelines, the Earth's defenders watched her fight, unsure of how to proceed.  

"I thought there were only two Saiyans," asked Tien Shinhan.   He was an Earthling, though his three eyes seemed to imply otherwise.  

"Well, this new one's different from the others, that's for sure," said one of the others.   Yamcha was dressed in orange, and had long black hair, which stood out compared to his mostly bald allies.    Despite the high stakes of the battle, he seemed almost at ease as he observed Luffa in action.   "I mean, she lets her tail hang out, like Goku did when he was a boy.  And she's not wearing one of their uniforms.   But there's more, you guys... It's hard to tell when she's moving so fast, but unless I miss my guess, I'm pretty sure..."

"What is it, Yamcha?" asked Chiaotzu.    He was another Earthling, though his skin was chalk-white, and he was roughly the size of the half-Saiyan child in their group.  

"Come on, fill us in," added Krillin.   He was taller than Chiaotzu, but not by much.    His bald head was adorned with six dots above his brow, which Luffa assumed was a local martial arts custom.    She had an interest in such things, and would have liked to ask about it, except she was too busy dodging plant-monster acid.  

"It's just... well, she's kinda cute," Yamcha said, his face now turning red with embarrassment.   "For a Saiyan, I mean.   You know, maybe this invasion won't be so bad after all, right?"

Luffa was too far away to hear the compliment.   Coincidentally, she had just locked her jaw onto one of the creatures' legs, and tore off a chunk of its flesh.    A green liquid ran down her chin as she spun around to drive her elbow into the back of one of the other monsters.    

"Uh, never mind, guys," Yamcha said, now looking very pale.  

"This is ridiculous!" growled Piccolo.   "We should be fighting the Saiyans, not standing around watching them battle each other!"    Of the Earthling camp, he was the tallest and most powerful, though he was clearly not native to their world.   Luffa now understood him to be a Namekian, although Piccolo himself had been unaware of this truth until minutes before this battle began.    

"Normally, I'd agree," Tien said, "but if it buys time for Goku to get here, then we ought to take advantage of it.    Those Saibamen creatures were giving us a tough time before she showed up."

On the opposite side, the two Saiyans were similarly confused.

"Hey, Vegeta," Nappa said.   "Raditz never mentioned a sister, did he?"

"No, he didn't," Vegeta replied.   "Curious.    From the way she's dressed, I'd say she's a renegade.     Maybe she heard about the Dragon Balls, and she's here to jump our claim."  

"Nuts to that!" Nappa snarled.   "I didn't wait a year in that space pod to come here and watch her screw up our wish for immortality!   How about it, Vegeta?   I know you wanted to let the Saibamen play with these Earthlings for a while, but that was before she showed up to spoil the show.    I think it's time I step in and find out what her game is!"

Vegeta made a derisive snort.    "Fine.   Do as you like.   Just make sure nothing happens to the Namekian.   Remember, he's going to tell us how to find the Dragon Balls."  

"Ha ha!   I like that!" Nappa cheered.   "Immortality, here we come!"    

"Oh?   Is the big dumb one finally going to get his hands dirty?"   Luffa had killed all but two of the Saibamen, but once she spotted Nappa walking towards her, she raised her hand, extending two fingers, and the creatures suddenly exploded where they stood.    Vegeta didn't move, but his eyes widened with surprise.    

"You've got a smart mouth on you, little girl, but you won't talk so tough once I'm done with you!" Nappa shouted.   As he approached, he began punching his right palm with his left fist.    

"You remind me of my father," Luffa said.   She scooped up a piece of a Saibaman and took a bite as she walked closer to Nappa.    

"Is that right?" Nappa said with a laugh.   "Well I doubt we're related!   I'm from one of the noblest families on Planet Vegeta!"

"No, I don't mean you look like my father," Luffa said.   She waited until they were close together before finally looking him in the eye.   "I meant you remind me of how I killed him."

Something about her cold expression startled Nappa, and he took a half step back without really thinking.   "Wh-why you little--!   I think it's time I taught you some respect!"

"Sure, old man," Luffa said.    She raised her hand and curled in her fingers to egg him on.  "Teach me something.    While you still can."

Nappa made a frustrated roar and threw a punch at her, which she dodged easily.   His follow-up, however, was more successful.   He swung his leg around in a spin-kick, and caught her off-guard, sending her crashing into one of the buttes that littered the wasteland.    

Nappa laughed at his quick victory, and the Earth's defenders prepared themselves for a fight.     Under the rubble of the butte, Luffa cursed her body for being so pathetic.  

The Saibamen creatures had taken more out of her than she had realized.   Each of them was about as strong as Raditz had been, so she felt a surge of confidence when she was able to fight five of them at once, but it wasn't enough.    Nappa was even stronger, and she was certain that Vegeta was even stronger still.    

She couldn't stand this!   To reach the heights of Saiyan potential, only to degenerate to this pitiful level.    There had been times when she had longed to return to her old life, a low-level Saiyan housewife, instead of the Legendary Super Saiyan.    But she hadn't counted on how accustomed she had gotten to being invincible.     Right now, all she wanted was to take Nappa's smug superiority and make him choke on it.   She wanted to blast her way out of all these rocks she was buried under, and tell him that his attack hadn't hurt at all.  

Instead, she shoved just enough of them aside to climb out of the debris.    And the pain in her back was enough to curb any show of bravado.  

"I'm not finished yet!" she snarled.    But as she surveyed the battlefield, she was shocked by how much had happened while she was down.    

The dark energy wafted from Nappa's body like purple steam.   His eyes glowed red, and he seemed completely unconcerned with Luffa's comeback.   In short order, he had already killed Chiaotzu, Yamcha, Tien, and Piccolo.   Only Gohan and Krillin remained alive, and neither looked like they were in much shape to continue fighting.  

"Well well, look who's still alive!" Nappa said with a grin.    "I guess you really are a Saiyan after all!   I was starting to think one of these Earth punks made a fake tail and glued it onto your butt!"

"I'm more of a Saiyan... than you'll ever be, old man!" Luffa seethed.   "I'll tear you apart!"  

"That's the spirit!" Nappa cheered.  "You're gonna die no matter what, so you might as well go down fighting, right?"  

"Nappa!" Vegeta shouted.     "Hurry up and finish her off!   Kakarot will be here any moment!"  

"Right!" Nappa said.   "No sense wasting time playing around with small fry like you!"  

Faster than she could follow with her eyes, he rushed towards her, and raised his fist to deliver a finishing blow.   Luffa raised her arms, uncertain whether she could stop him...

...and somehow, she did.   Without being consciously aware of it, she managed to not only catch Nappa's fist, but stopped it just centimeters from her face.  

"Nappa, what is the matter over there?!" Vegeta growled.   "Stop fooling around!"

Nappa snarled as he tried to force his way through Luffa's defense.   She pushed back, unsure of her own strength.  

"What is this?" he asked.   "You can't be strong enough to do this!    Y-you can't!"

"You know what?" Luffa sneered.    "You're probably right!   I'd better try something else."

Before he could react, she shifted her balance, and wrapped her limbs around his arm to catch him in a joint lock.   Nappa howled in pain as she seized his fingers and torqued back his wrist.  

"You little--!    Arrrgghhh!" Nappa howled.  

"Come on!"  Luffa shouted.   "Show me what you've got!   You were gonna teach me some respect, right!   Or maybe you want to call your buddy over to help!"

"Nappa, what are you doing?"  Vegeta scolded.    

"He's dying, that's what," Luffa shouted back.   "One piece at a time, and then you're next, you royalist fool!"

Nappa could only swing his arm wildly, in a desperate attempt to break Luffa's grip.   Instead, Luffa held on tighter, and then finally twisted Nappa's arm enough to break his wrist.    She leaped clear of him and gasped for breath.   The effort had left her winded, but the sight of Nappa's arm dangling uselessly at his side was like a balm for her spirit.    

"Come on!" Luffa shouted.    She slapped her chest and shoulders, daring him to take his best shot.   "Come on!   Hit me!"

Nappa couldn't resist her challenge, and he threw his good forearm at the side of her head.   Luffa didn't even try to block him.   She simply absorbed the blow, and recovered.  

"What... what are you?" Nappa muttered.  

"I'm just some freak who glued a tail on her butt," Luffa replied.    "Right?"  

She hit him back and he fell over from the force of it.  

"Right?!" she screamed as she hit him again.    

She put her arms behind her back and dared him to hit her.   Nappa began to hyperventilate with anger and frustration.    In his panic, he looked over to Vegeta, only to find that his lord was no longer paying attention to their fight.    

Instead, Vegeta was glaring at the surviving Earthlings, who had been joined by Goku.    

"Time's up," Luffa said with an evil smile.   "Not that your idiot friend would have helped you, but now he's got his own playmate to deal with.    And you won't be helping him, not with the shape you're in."  

"No!" Nappa shouted, as he struck her face.   Her head recoiled from the impact, but she recovered almost immediately, her eyes wide with excitement.  

"You wanted to be immortal?" Luffa asked.   "You?   Fool!   What would you do with eternal life?   Throwing weak little punches like that."  

He hit her again, and she began to laugh.    Nearby, Goku and Vegeta had begun fighting, but she found herself unable to concentrate on that part of the battle.   It almost felt like taking blows from Nappa was making her stronger, reawakening the dormant power that lay within her.  

"Good, keep it up!" she screamed.    "A few more like that, and Kakarot can sit out for the rest of this one!   I'll just tackle your boss by myself!"

"Damn you!   You'll never beat Vegeta!" Nappa insisted.   She could see the fear in his eyes now.   He was beginning to realize that he was no match for her, and the pain and weight of his injured arm was starting to take a toll on his fighting ability.   All he had left now was his faith in his partner.

"Oh?   And what makes him so special?"  Luffa asked.   "Another product of a 'noble family'?"

"You... you  really don't have a clue, do you?" Nappa gasped.   "He's no ordinary Saiyan!    He's the Prince!    There's a reason he shares the name of our home planet!"

This startled Luffa for a moment, but only a moment.    Nappa tried to take advantage by firing beams of ki from his eyes, but she dodged these with little trouble.  

"What Prince?"  she demanded.   "Rehval had no sons, and even if he did--!"

"Oh, then you've heard of Rehval at least," Nappa said.   "Guess your parents taught you that much history.    Well here's the rest of it: Prince Vegeta is the product of over a thousand years of Saiyan breeding!    He's stronger than any Saiyan I've ever met!   Stronger than me, stronger than you... why, he's even stronger than his own father!"  

She didn't understand what he was saying.    "A thousand years?" she asked.   She turned and looked up to watch the prince in action.    

To his credit, Goku was putting up a good fight, but Vegeta clearly had the advantage.   They were both far beyond the abilities displayed by Nappa.    For that matter, Luffa was unsure that she could keep up with them in her current condition.    But this wasn't what troubled her.    

"I've watched Prince Vegeta's power grow since he was a small boy," Nappa gloated.    "He's better than special.   He's downright miraculous.    Who knows?   He might even be stronger than the Legendary Super Saiyan."

Luffa looked back at Nappa with an astonished glare.    The conviction in his eyes was what truly horrified her.    She was so revolted by his glowing praise of Vegeta that she drove the butt of her palm into his nose.    The precision impact fractured his nose and drove fragments of bone into his brain, killing him instantly.    

Then she looked back at the battle above.    No, the power of Vegeta didn't trouble her much.    Nor did the prospect of her mission here.   According to Trunks, she only had to get history back on track, and history had recorded a desperate, touch-and-go battle against Vegeta, which was basically how things were playing out.   She just had to keep Goku and the others alive long enough to see it through.    

What sent shivers down her spine was the idea that this royalist clown, this Vegeta,  somehow represented the pinnacle of Saiyan achievement.   He was supposed to be the best and brightest of his generation?

Eventually, she would join the battle, and keep Vegeta distracted long enough for Goku to deploy his best techniques.    She would do what she could to test Vegeta's power, and see if his strength might awaken more of her own.    

But throughout that battle, she knew that she would be constantly preoccupied with the question of what had happened to the Saiyan race, and just what had happened after she killed Rehval on Nagaoka.   All she knew for certain was that she wouldn't like the answer.

NEXT: Fighting Blind.

[yeontanismypresident]

A Forever Thing | myg

a/n: this is part one of a wedding series i’m collabing on! i really really really love this piece and hope you do as well. i apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. i didn’t have any time to edit it. enjoy~ oh wait also i was listening to cute wedding songs while writing this and it made me want to marry yoongi and then have cute children and have yoongi teach them the piano  🥺 and maybe have him pick up the piano and kill me with it 🥺🥺🤙🏻

ask to be tagged in future fics here!!

word count: 4,685

genre: slight angst, fluff fluff fluffff!!!!!!!!!

warnings: panic attack,

Yoongi was sat on the couch, face blank and posture laid back, while the rest of his band members were freaking out. His eyes observed their reactions; the maknae line were confused by the sudden news, while the hyung line were freaking out. What brought this on? Why was he suddenly leaving their world tour. Seems like they all had the same thought for Jin spoke up. 

“Why are you leaving? What brought this on?” Jin asked the younger, voice questioning and stern. Yoongi caught his eyes, before he looked away with a vacant expression, thinking back to an hour ago when he was skyping you and how this mess came about. 

Yoongi gazed at you with adoration shining bright in his eyes, his gummy smile making those very eyes crinkle whilst his round cheeks blossom in color. God, he loved you so much and he wished you knew that. You mean the absolute world to him and he had the strongest desire to grant your every wish. As he studied your form, laughing when you yelled at the character on the TV screen, he could feel himself falling in love with you. He was so grateful he met you three years ago, even more appreciative you stuck by him through all the rumors, tours and hardships. He was shaken from his thoughts by your distraught sound, eyes focusing in on how you were glaring at your phone, a scowl on your pretty face. 

He cocked his head, eyebrows furrowing, “What’s wrong, baby?” It was silent, your eyes not even leaving the cell phone’s screen to acknowledge you heard him. His lips formed a pout, arms crossing his chest and slumping down in the hotel desk chair. Why weren’t you paying him any attention? Leaning in towards his screen, he could faintly hear what sounded like an interview playing on Youtube, more specifically their interview from earlier in the day. The one where he clearly stated that he di-

“Yeah, I don’t really care for marriage and I don’t really see it in my future. I’m not the serious relationship type of guy,” his words came nonchalantly, not even giving it a second thought, as if you wouldn’t see it when it was released. 

Yoongi shut his eyes, the events repeating over and over in his mind. How he said it without a care in the world, as if he wasn’t in a serious relationship with the love of his life, the very woman he wanted to marry. Sure, in the beginning he didn’t consider settling down for good, since he saw marriage as a piece of paper, but when you had discussed the idea with stars in your eyes, he knew he would go through with it. He would do anything as long as it made you happy. 

Your monotonous tone made him open his eyes, only to see you with an expressionless face, “So, you’re not the ‘serious relationship’ guy? Yet, we’ve been dating for five, five years. When were you planning on telling me that you never saw us staying together? When you strung me along for a little bit longer? Played with my heart some more? Yoongi, you knew I was dating for marriage, that I wanted to settle down. Why didn’t you say anything when we had that conversation months ago? You could have told me you never wanted to get married, yet all you did was smile at me, filling me with so much hope that I would get to marry the man I love one day.” 

“Wait, Y/n, I can explain!” Yoongi said exasperatedly, trying and failing to prevent you from logging off. He grabbed his phone, his motions quick as he texted you, praying you would answer him. He waited, giving it a few seconds before he messaged you again. Fifty texts later and you still weren’t responding to him. Releasing a deep sigh, he let his head fall back, glaring up at the ceiling. Tears blurred his vision, and he hastily wiped his eyes, thoughts running rampant through his brain. What would he do if he couldn’t get a hold of you? If he was not able to explain himself? What if...what if you decided to leave him? 

That last thought made him freeze, his body going cold and numb with fear. Fear of losing you, one of the best things that had happened to him. All of a sudden, he jumped up from his seat, rushing around his hotel room to gather his stuff, packing it all up. Unzipping a side pocket on his suitcase, he pulled the red, velvety box out, turning it over in his hands before cracking it open. He sighed when he saw the ring still safely nestled inside. He didn’t know what he would do if he were to have lost it. The ring was custom made, the only one in the world, and he knew it was perfect for you. It was simple yet cute, just the way you liked things. Closing the lid, he placed it back inside his luggage, making sure it wouldn’t fall out. Before he put his laptop away, he quickly bought a plane ticket back to Seoul. Once he had everything ready to go, he walked out of his hotel room with his bags in hand, and went to where he knew the others would be. 

Knocking on the door, he patiently waited for someone to let him in. The longer he stood there, the more his anxiety flared up, knowing he was wasting precious time that he could use to get to you. Finally, finally someone opened the door. Staring back at him was Jimin, his face looking muddled, for the older man had said he would rather sleep than mess around with them yet here he was. 

The two stared at each other for a few silent seconds, before Jimin broke it, “Hyung, what are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were going to skype Y/n or something?” Yoongi didn’t answer, instead he pushed past the pink haired boy, making his way to their band members. 

“I’m leaving the tour,” Yoongi said, plopping down onto the couch. His statement made them stop what they were currently doing, completely shocked by his words, not sure where it was coming from. 

Jin cleared his throat, bringing Yoongi from his flashback back to the present, “Yah, Yoongi-ah, aren’t you listening? Why are you leaving when we still have a month left?” Said man looked at him, tears clouding his vision once again, causing his friends’ eyes to widen. Yoongi almost never cried in front of them, he had too much pride for that, not wanting to seem weak. So seeing one of their closest friends about to break down made them panic.

“Y/n…” he started out, his voice hesitant, as if saying it out loud would make it real, “She saw today’s interview…” Jin, Namjoon and Hoseok looked at him with pity in their eyes, knowing why he was acting the way he was. The only ones who still weren’t catching on were the maknae line. The three youngest sent each other glances, not getting why it was bad you had watched it. You always watched their interviews, so why was now different?

Jungkook, being the bravest of the three, asked, “I don’t get it. What’s wrong with Y/n seeing it?” Though Yoongi knew Jungkook wasn’t trying to be rude, he couldn’t help but to blow up on the man. 

“Why is it bad? You’re asking me why it’s bad? Maybe because I said I wasn’t looking for marriage! That I wasn’t in the mood to be in a serious relationship!!” Yoongi stood up yelling, tears now freely flowing down his blotchy cheeks. Hoseok placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm his friend down, but Yoongi wasn’t done. “My girlfriend of five years that I planned on proposing to in a few months thinks I don’t want to get married and that I don’t see us together for long!! And she won’t answer me and let me explain!! That’s why this is a disaster Jungkook!!” 

The boy that was getting yelled at took a step back, wide eyes looking hesitantly at his senior, not wanting to cause even more trouble, “I-I’m sorry hyung. I didn’t mean to make you mad…” Not getting a response, Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, angry at himself for upsetting his hyung. Yoongi saw this and sighed, hating himself for making his member feel terrible when he only asked an innocent question. 

“Kook-ah, I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at myself. I’m the idiot who said something during the interview. I just can’t lose her, I love her so fucking much. I planned on proposing to her two months after the tour ended, y’know? I had the perfect way of doing it too…” Yoongi trailed off, thinking of all the ideas he had scheduled, a small smile growing on his face, just imagining your reaction as he asked you to be his for forever. 

None of them knew how or where he was planning, and taking in how curious everyone was, Namjoon questioned Yoongi, “How did you want to do it hyung?” They all sat down somewhere in the room, ready to listen to the black haired man explain how he was going to propose to you. 

“When the topic of marriage came up a few months ago, she got so excited and started going off about what she thought the perfect proposal was. The look in her eyes...god, the look in her eyes while she talked. She looked so beautiful and innocent. I never really wanted to get married, never really cared for it, but with the way she was looking at me with so much love in her expression, I knew I would do it for her,” Yoongi spoke softly, thinking back to when you two were in his room, cuddling in bed, your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. 

Releasing a gentle sigh, he closed his eyes, finishing his explanation, “She had told me how she’s always wanted to see the northern lights, and how it would be so romantic to be proposed under them. She’s stuck through all the hardships of being with me, and I just want to give back to her, show her how much she means to me, how thankful I am for her. I called the Northern Light Inn in Iceland right after the discussion and they said the best month to do it was November, so I booked a room for a week. All I would have to do is have it bumped up to now.” No one said anything, gazing at the way Yoongi had a gummy smile and hearts in his eyes as he thought of marrying you. 

“Wow...hyung..” Taehyung started, not knowing how to express how he was feeling. In fact, none of them did. They were all shell shocked, not used to hearing the man speak so tenderly, so open about his feelings. Jin, Hoseok and Namjoon were looking at him with pride, knowing it took a lot of courage for him to even speak his emotions, Jimin and Taehyung were beaming at him, bouncing excitedly in their seats and chatting animatedly, while Jungkook was glaring at the floor, deep in thought. Noticing the maknae’s heated stare, Jimin asked him if he was okay.

Jungkook looked up at them, determination shining in his eyes, “I’m okay with hyung leaving early. We can handle the concerts without him, and ARMY would understand if we tell them he has a family emergency.” It became silent, the reason this conversation was even started being brought back up. Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung agreed, wanting their best friend to get engaged with his love as soon as possible. It was Jin and Namjoon that were a little more hesitant, their responsibilities as oldest and leader reminding them why he couldn’t just abandon them. Yet, seeing Yoongi’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his heart breaking in front of their very eyes, they knew they couldn’t, wouldn’t be the ones to stop him. So, they both gave each other a look and nodded, showing Yoongi he had their support as well. 

“Great!! So now we just need to get Yoongi hyung a plane ticket!” Jungkook enthusiastically yelled, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes wide with excitement. The rest grinned, watching in amusement as the youngest grabbed his laptop, powering it on. 

Yoongi sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, shyly saying, “Uh, about that...I may have already bought a plane ticket..haha.” Six of his friends had shock written all over their faces. None of them had expected him to already have a ticket, especially given that he wasn’t sure he would be permitted to leave, however, Hoseok was the only one who expected it. He knew his hyung would have left even if he wasn’t allowed. 

“Well, in that case, what are you waiting for? Go get your fiancee, Yoongi hyung!” Jimin yelled out, everyone else screaming in excitement with him. Yoongi smiled, grabbed his suitcase, waved goodbye to the boys, and went on his way. He knew he could possibly get in trouble for abandoning the tour, but at this point he couldn’t care less, you were more important to him. 

The taxi ride to the airport was filled with only the sounds of the radio, he was too nervous to try and initiate conversation with the driver, his hands anxiously playing with the end of his sweatshirt. Once the vehicle came to a stop, he took his belongings and headed inside. Printing his ticket, going through security and boarding the plane all went by in a blur. He was too far in his thoughts to even notice what was happening around him. Yoongi inhaled once, twice, thrice times before he closed his eyes, planning on sleeping the hours away. The fourteen hours flew by, with him going in and out of consciousness from time to time, and soon the airplane was landing. Feeling his nerves pick back up, he exited with the other passengers, turning his cell phone off airplane mode to see if you had answered any of his calls or messages. He sighed in defeat when he noticed the only notifications were from his members and their manager. Walking with quick steps to the baggage claim, he picked up his luggage and went outside to hail a taxi. The car pulled up to the curb and Yoongi got in, giving the man your address, praying you were there. 

Arriving at your apartment complex, he rushed up the stairs, in too much of a rush to wait for the elevator. He calmly stalked towards your door when he reached the correct floor. Taking a shaky breath, he tried to calm his nerves before he proceeded to knock. As soon as he heard you call out ‘coming!’, he held his breath. His heart was racing as you opened the door, little beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Your eyes widened, not expecting to see him standing at your door, and you went to slam the door shut but he caught it with his foot. 

“Wait!” he yelled out, desperation ringing in his voice. Letting out a short breath, you reopened the door, allowing him to see your whole body. Yoongi’s heart broke when he took in your appearance; hair a greasy mess, pajamas looking loose on your figure, red eyes, and dark circles under them. Reaching out a hand, he let it fall limp by his side after hesitating, “Please, can we talk?” Deciding to hear him out, you moved to the side, granting him access to enter. Saying a small ‘thank you’, he followed you to your couch, sitting down next to you. 

Turning to face him, you avoided his eyes, “What did you want to talk about?” The way you said it, fear lacing your words, caused him to move closer to you, grasping your hands tightly in his. You thought of ripping them away from his, but you needed the comfort the action brought. 

“Y/n, what I said in that interview, I didn’t mean it. I’m so fucking happy I’m dating you and I do plan on marrying you in the future. Those words I said weren’t true and I regret them so much,” he said, scooting even closer to you and placing a hand on your cheek. He took a deep breath in before continuing, “At first, I wasn’t really looking for marriage and that’s not because I wasn’t serious about us, it’s because I never really cared for marriage. Why should we have to prove our love for one another by having a wedding? But then you were passionately saying how you couldn’t wait to get married, how you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together, and I knew, I knew I would go through with it for you.”

By the end of Yoongi’s declaration, there were tears running down your face, causing him to panic. Did he say something wrong? Why were you crying? Right as he opened his mouth to ask if you were alright, you flung yourself at him, sobbing into his chest. You were a blabbering mess about how you were sorry for not listening to him that night, but he was just filled with relief, relief that you still wanted to be with him. Now he just needed to get you on the plane with him without having you figure out what was happening.

“Baby, go pack a suitcase. I want to go on a short vacation with you, show you how much I love you, before I have to get back to the tour.” His words caused your eyes to get large. He left the tour for you? Yoongi could see you felt guilty, so he quickly kissed your lips, “Don’t worry about it, jagiya. I was granted permission to come home early.” Reassured by his words, you smiled excitedly and went to get your stuff ready. While you were packing, Yoongi called their manager, explaining everything and asking if he could have a private jet ready. Getting a ‘yes and there will be a car waiting’, he grinned and thanked the man before hanging up. 

You came out, luggage in hand, “I didn’t know where we were going, so I packed a few warm clothes and a few cool clothes.” He grabbed your suitcase for you, grasping your hand with the other, and led the way to the car that should be waiting outside. The ride to the airport was filled with sweet words whispered into ears, longing, loving stares and chaste kisses to soft lips. Yoongi tugged you towards the gate where you could board the jet, laughing as you kept tripping while trying to keep up with your pace. Settling down in the seats, he took a photo of the two of you before relaxing. Once again, the flight zoomed by and he was awoken by the airplane landing.

“Come on Yoongs! We’re here!” you squealed, eyes bright with enthusiasm. He smiled tiredly and followed you off the plane. Hearing you gasp in amazement caused a bliss feeling to go through him. You excitedly tugged him towards the direction of the small airport, “Oh, Yoongi this is amazing! We’re in Iceland!” 

Your boyfriend stopped in his tracks, resulting in your body being jolted back as you were still connected by the hand. He kissed your cheek, “I remember you said you’ve always wanted to visit Iceland, and I thought it would be the best place for us to escape to.” He just hoped you wouldn’t think anything else of it…

“I love you so much, this is so cute of you,” you cooed at him and pinched his cheek. He scoffed, pushing your hand away from his face, a pout forming on his mouth. Grumbling to himself, he started to pull you, laughter escaping your rosy lips.��

It was night now and you were all settled into your room. Seeing Yoongi pace nervously back and forth, you walked over to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, resulting in him slightly flinching. “Are you okay, Yoongi?” your voice was quiet, not wanting to startle him even more. 

“Y-yeah. Do you want to go on a walk? I heard it’s a beautiful night tonight,” he stuttered in the beginning before his voice became stronger. You gave him a reassuring smile and nodded, layering up in warm clothes. He followed your actions, though from the corner of your eye you could see him swiftly grab something from his suitcase and stick it in his coat pocket. Shaking the curiosity away, you grabbed his outstretched hand. 

Yoongi led the way down a path, stopping after you had walked for ten minutes. You were confused as to why he did, but gasped when you looked up at the night sky to see streaks of blue, green, and purple. He gazed at you with fondness as you observed the colors ripple in the dark sky. God, he loved you so much. 

Not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet that surrounds you, in a low voice he asked you, “Turn towards me, I want a picture of you to remember this moment.” Doing as he ordered, you faced him and allowed a huge grin to appear. He took his phone out and snapped a photo of you cheesing, sending it to the boys with the caption ‘she has no clue what’s about to happen’. Turning your attention back on the beautiful scene, you were too focused to notice your boyfriend moving to stand behind you. 

Only whirling around when you heard him softly say your name, and you let out a gasp at the sight. Yoongi was standing there with a small, red box. Your heart rate quickened, shock paralyzing you in your spot. Your hands covered your mouth as he opened it, a ring staring back at you as he moved closer to you. 

“L/n Y/n, ever since I met you at that coffee shop back in 2016, I knew we were going to be best friends. It was as if we just..clicked. There was no awkwardness of trying to get to know each other, we were comfortable from the start. From then on we made so many inside jokes, had so many laughs and I loved every second of it,” Yoongi said with so much love in his eyes. Inhaling, he smiled shakily at you and kept talking, “Then a few months later you met my band mates and I was so happy and relieved to see you get along with them. At this point I knew I had a huge crush on you and it seemed like Hobi knew as well since he came to me that night, asking if I was finally going to ask you out or not.” His breath came out shaky, “When I told him that I was, he said ‘good, she’s perfect for you, hyung’ and it made me so fucking ecstatic that he thought that. That someone else saw you would complete me. I asked you out a week later, you were wearing that blue sundress with your hair curled and you looked so beautiful. Do you remember what our first date was?” 

You nodded and sniffled, “You took me to a convenience store and we ate ramen there, then we took a walk at Banpo Bridge Park and watched the water show.” Smiles graced both your faces as some of the best memories were brought back up. Yoongi raised a hand and tenderly held your cheek. A small hiccup left you as you leaned into his touch, the both of you letting out wet laughs. 

“That was one of the best nights of my life, especially when you got cold and cuddled up to me. After that we went on a few dates before I asked you to be my girlfriend, and you can ask any one of the guys, but when you said yes I couldn’t stop smiling. To know you were finally mine and I was yours made me feel so much joy,” he said, chuckling when tears fell from your eyes. “Want to know when I knew I was in love with you?” he questioned you, and when you rapidly nodded your head he began his explanation, “It was on our tenth date. We were at the dorms, cuddling in my bed and watching a movie, well, you were watching it but I was too busy staring at your beauty. When you caught me looking you gave me a shy smile before you went back to laughing at the characters on the screen and I knew you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” 

By now, you were trying to keep your sobs in. “W-wait,” you said, eyebrows furrowing, “You knew you wanted to be with for forever on our tenth date?” He hummed as the gears turned in your mind. Eyes lighting up with recognition, you exclaimed, “But we had only been dating for three months!” Yoongi threw his head back in laughter, his shoulders shaking with the action. 

“Yes, you dummy, I knew you were the love of my life after only dating for three months. Surprising right? I was slightly worried with how fast I was falling for you, but then I thought of all the times we spent together and knew you would be there to catch me just like I would catch you,” he teased you and when he saw you turning red, he kissed your forehead, though that just caused more redness to spread throughout your face. He cleared his throat and straightened up, his nerves making an appearance again. He was nervous you would say no, even if your reactions showed you wouldn’t, he couldn’t shake the thought away.  

“So, L/n Y/n, will you live the rest of our lives with me? Even though I’m not always the easiest person to live with?” His voice cracked, while tears blurred his vision. Yoongi was looking at you with unfiltered adoration and it caused more tears to trickle down your cheeks. He brushed them away with his thumb. 

You gave him a watery smile, “Yes, of course I will, Min Yoongi.” As soon as the words left your mouth he wrapped you in a tight embrace, bringing you into a passionate kiss. Pulling away, he placed one last sweet kiss on your lips and took the ring out, sliding it onto your left hand. Wiping the rest of your tears away, you took a closer look at the ring on your hand. The ring was delicate, not too over the top - exactly the way Yoongi tended to show his love - but still breathtakingly gorgeous. Tiny diamonds formed a heart, with a bigger one in the middle, while tiny jewels littered the band. 

“It has a meaning,” he whispered as he watched you examine the piece of jewelry with complete focus. Seeing you tilt your head in confusion, he placed his forehead on yours, “The heart means a promise, as long as you keep mine safe, I’ll forever cherish yours.” His soft words made you melt, so much love for this man flowing through your veins. 

You stared at him with hearts in your eyes and placed a gentle kiss on his chapped lips, “I love you so much, Min Yoongi, and I promise to keep your heart safe.” His smile was full of elation, as he left pecks all over your face. His heart swelled when your giggles reached his ears. 

“I love you too, Min Y/n,” Yoongi said, bringing you into his side as the two of you continued to see the northern lights, huddled close to each other and basking in the love that was shared between you both.

tagging: @sagey-rages