#this is what happens when you give me one piece of propaganda i fold like a bad gambler

[wolfythewitch]

I'm not saying you guys should vote Penelope's kid but if you do I get to give Telemachus arm floaties wouldn't that be great

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

This could be a totally crack pot theory and you may bap me on the nose and point in another direction if so but..

Is the reason the Marines and World Government are so dogged about getting Shanks because he's part Celestial Dragon? I mean, he can totally be something else; our lord and savior, Oda sensei, has yet to say it’s gospel. But are the Celestial Dragons trying to bring this wild card back into the fold? I mean, he is also Roger's chosen to take the mantle of the Straw Hat, so that might be why. But they could also be like, "Oh good, former mentor out of the way now, come home now," or something? Could be a mix of both? Like, bring the baby Celestial Dragon back into the fold but also have this possible problem in the future under control.

Or maybe they want him to denounce his former captain use him as a propaganda piece. Like look Rodger stole an entire child and kept him as a slave on his ship. As the former Rodger pirates and Buggy see him slowly deteriorating threw the paper— You know Peata and Johanna hunger games type of situation—and God that would break Shanks.

Idk could be absolutely off base. I’m just shooting into shit into wind and hoping I hit something.

As you mentioned in the last question I sent, I’m very intrigued to see Mihawk break under these circumstances. I feel like it will be a very interesting character study. We don’t have a lot of that with his character in fic mostly, I think, because he's so solid in his older incarnation that it just seems almost out of character for him to fall apart. But younger and less settled, still haven’t reached the highest heights or lowest lows... It will still definitely be a challenge but not improbable. After you're done with this AU, I might write something about canon Mihawk meeting this version of himself- or canon Shanks meeting his version, that won’t end horribly. Especially since these two would be trauma-bonded and practically crawling into each other's skin type of close. While canon characters would have the luxury of non-vulnerability and emotional stability.

Also would you like art? Because I can make art? No promise it’ll be good but I feel like this au deserves some art!

One thing about me is that I love a good crackpot theory, lol. Give me a rabbit hole and I'll never come out. So, that could be! It is very, very compelling for Shanks to be a CD. And one of the big reasons why marines want Shanks is because he's basically the son/successor of Roger, in this AU they are taking the crackdown on Roger's line/crew/associates to the extreme. Shanks is the perfect target, because he's the successor/plus he's young, emotionally attached to Roger, and was at the heart of the Roger pirates' doings. All these things the marines intend to exploit for their own purposes. And they've been gathering intel on Shanks for a while, too. Propaganda purposes? YES. Also, all the pirates they've captured in Loguetown either know who Shanks is, or they find out due to the Marines. So, Shanks is going to be used to break the morale of the captives they have. And not just Shanks. What happens when you single out the greatest pirates in the crowd and systematically break them in front of everyone?(Shanks knows he should stay strong. he knows it. But after so much time has passed...he can't.) Who is going to resist after that? And love the Peeta/Johannna parallels!

As far as Shanks being a Celestial Dragon...hm, there's a reason Doflamingo wasn't caught. And also...the marines gathering intel on Shanks is important to that, because they are also gathering intel on everyone and everything in order to move towards ending piracy for good. No stone is left unturned. During this search they will find certain things, and origins of certain people. And Shanks being a Celestial will give them a good reason to not outright kill him after they do their worst. Oh, I'm eager to see him break myself! (I say that like I won't be doing the breaking, lol) "because he's so solid in his older incarnation that it just seems almost out of character for him to fall apart." One reason why I'm putting so much into this AU is because of exactly that. Drama and angst and hurt is my thing, but with the older versions of Shanks and Mihawk, there is not much that can phase/hurt them to the point of evoking severe drama/angst/hurt, unless it's an overpowered threat. With their younger selves, it's a different story. Their lowest lows lead to the their highest highs in this AU, the idea that marines attempted to wipe their enemies off the face of the earth and instead only created a monster for themselves is a driving theme. So yeah, that'll be fun. OOOOOOH, I'd read that in an instant! please, please do. The juxtaposition of the independent and powerful men the canon Mihawk/Shanks are against the glued-at-the-hip, jointly feared and entertwined Mihawk/Shanks this pair will be. I'd love art! Anything that gets made for this I'd eat up! Fire away! I actually have some sketches I've made too while writing, I'll throw those up pretty soon.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

S+B Season 2 Alina and Nikolai Clip Thoughts (Spoilers)

I just watched the clip released showing the meeting between Nikolai, Alina and M*l. I think its revealed some interesting possibilities and I have a few questions now too. I am going to be discussing some things that happened in the books in this post so you’ve been warned if you haven’t read the books and don’t want to be spoiled, scroll on past. 

I said in another post that I thought maybe the grisha in the cages was actually where the first army had turned on the grisha after Novokribirsk and judging from the opening line from Nikolai in this clip I am even more sure that is exactly what is going on. What is interesting is it looks like everyone believes that Alina and Aleks were working together which makes me think that this shot:

With what appeared to be a propaganda poster in the background might actually be like a news piece or even a wanted poster. If people do believe that Alina and Aleks were working together then maybe they are now actually both being hunted. Maybe the first army are searching for them and Aleks has now found himself in the same position he was in during that flashback in ep 7 of season 1, but Alina is also now in that position even after Aleks promised her he wouldn’t let her become the new heretic. I do wonder how this is going to effect darklina’s relationship. Like now that she herself is being hunted is it going to make her  a little sympathetic towards Aleks or is there only going to be anger between them. She seems pretty angry at him here but I am curious to see what their dynamic is in these mind palace scenes and whether Alina will have moments where she is conflicted and can relate to Aleks and understands where he is coming from even if she doesn’t agree with him. I do feel like at the moment they both feel like the other betrayed them and I suspect at first they’ll both just be too angry but I do wonder if over time that anger will soften and Alina will start trying to listen more to Aleks’ side and vice versa. 

Another thing this clip makes pretty clear is that it looks like that whole plotline of the Darkling working with Nikolai to find the sea whip and Alina and M*l being held captive on the boat has been cut. This opens a whole kettle of worms because that means no Ivan death scene, so are they just going to say in the show that he never made it out of the fold? It means Genya never lets Alina go which means the Darkling has no reason to scar her and we’ve seen pictures where it doesn’t look like she is scarred so does that mean they are just cutting that whole plot out too? It also changes how Alina and Nikolai meet and how Alina and Aleks reunite. From this clip my theory is that Nikolai has seen the poster and has captured them because of this and is maybe threatening to hand them over to the First Army and Alina is now bargaining with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is some kind of reward for their capture. I do think at this point Alina won’t know that it is Nikolai the prince and will likely think this is Sturmhond which is why she says he will be rewarded if he works with them, she thinks he’s just a pirate looking for his next pay out. Another possibility is that Alina sought Nikolai/Sturmhond out, maybe they did some investigating and asking around about whether there was someone who could be hired to help search and were pointed in his direction. Personally I think the first theory is more likely but you never know.

Another difference is it looks like Alina is the one hunting the other two Morozova amplifiers, again this is different in the books as she was very upset when she finds out that the darkling was looking for the sea whip to put on her and didn’t want it. I am glad for this change though as it does give Alina alot more of her own agency as opposed to the books where it felt more like she was being dragged form plot point to plot point by other characters. What did catch my attention though was when Alina brings up the sea whip to Nikolai, M*l goes to interrupt and stop Alina from saying anything further. It is obvious that he isn’t happy about something here. So my question is are they going the same route as the books and M*l has a problem with Alina hunting the other amplifiers because he thinks she is getting too power hungry, I mean he had some major issues with her having the sea whip amplifier in the books. Or is it just that he doesn’t trust  Nikolai and doesn’t want Alina sharing their plans with him or what he considers sensitive information? Is it possible we could see some tension between M*l and Nikolai? I also wonder whether or not they are going to go with the whole Nikolai as a potential love interest thing or not and whether they’ll have the political engagement part. Honestly, personally I think Alina already has a more interesting dynamic with Nikolai in this 1 min clip than she does with M*l but I still don’t think they’ve got time with everything else they’ve got to cover to introduce a romance as well but who knows, we’ll just have to see I guess. 

With them changing the whole search for the sea whip and cutting out Aleks capturing Alina and M*l though I can’t help but wonder/worry about what they are going to be doing with Aleks’ character instead. If he’s not on the boat with others searching for the Sea whip then where is he? What is he doing? It does look like from the trailer that he at least will be saving some of the grisha that were turned on by the first army but other than that we really don’t seem to have much of an idea on what Aleks is going to be up to this season. Honestly I am a little worried that we might not see much of his character and they are going to have cut his role right back which seeing as he’s the most interesting character to me would be a bit of a bummer for me personally. It also makes me wonder how and when he and Alina will reunite outside of the mind palace, but also when Genya and Alina will and what that dynamic is going to look like. Anyway I’m done rambling now, I’m still not sure how to feel about the new season, the closer we get and the more promo content they put out the more nervous I get but I am still holding out hope that I’ll enjoy the season, only two weeks left to go.  

[thewillowbends]

So I'm rewatching the first season and reading the book, and I've got Thoughts (TM)

And I've got a LOT of thoughts about what exactly Leigh Bardugo was doing here in terms of the moral and ethical statements of the narrative, so I'm putting it under the cut.

Something that's really glaring on the rewatch is just...the complete lack of compassion every character outside Aleksander has for the plight of the Grisha. The army treats treats them with reciprocal dislike, despite the fact that they couldn't even cross the Fold with the Inferni or Squallers. The tsar and tsarita treat them with condescension and disdain, clearly valuing them mainly as a utility that, historically, they've happily turned on when they felt they were growing too powerful. Baghra has just given up on trying to protect other Grisha who aren't immortal like her or Aleksander. Even Alina is guilty of othering them and has to be told off by multiple characters (Ivan, Aleksander, Baghra) to stop treating her power like a yoke instead of a responsibility and opportunity to help others.

We get this big, bad, armor-piercing line from her to Aleksander about how he doesn't care who suffers as long as he wins. Which is true to some extent, but...where is her compassion? Didn't we just spend a hefty portion of the narrative wanting to give her power away to somebody else so she can, what, be with her bestie? Meanwhile, there's, you know, an actual war going on. This isn't small stakes shit she sees going on around her. People are dying. We literally have an entire plot where we see a Grisha kidnapped, enslaved, and then sent to be put to death...who was given to the enemy by her own people!

And then we get that line from her in 1x07, only to have it followed up by her running away at the end of 1x08 for....why? Most people on the ship are dead or those that survived weren't his supporters. The people on the docks were killed, and most of them actually were traitors trying to kill Alina. Aleksander didn't lie about that. So she's running away to take the blame for some nebulous reason that's not really well explained, which is...well, what the fuck happens to the rest of the Grisha? Do we not care about how Aleksander's actions are going to reflect back on them and cause a potential backlash or something? Not to mention, nobody is on the other side to warn them that Aleksander is a threat to begin with. Even if you assumed he was dead, you'd definitely want to assume he likely had supporters back at the palace, too!

From a character writing perspective, I find it stupid that Aleksander doesn't tell her certain things because if he's such a big, bad, clever manipulator, he would absolutely be weaponizing his own pain and experiences to make her stumble in empathy. That's bad character writing to me when you're telling me somebody's an abusive villain but actually isn't using very real and effective abuser tactics. But then you also have Alina who refuses to even point out...Aleksander, I get it! I've talked to other Grisha! I see what you're going through! But this can't be the answer. You have to see this won't end well for you! Like, her own arguments make no sense to me. They're so myopic and self-involved.

One of the big things that bothers me that gets folded into Aleksander's other manipulations is this idea that he primarily associates and values her for her power, in contrast to Mal who primarily sees her for being herself. While I get the intent of that on a narrative level, in the scope of the wider story...it just literally makes no sense for Aleksander to parse those two as separate. Not when the whole reason Grisha are hunted down and killed is because they don't get the privilege of being people outside of their power. Aleksander doesn't get to be General Kirigan without also being the Darkling. Therefore, Alina doesn't get to be Sankta Alina without also being the Sun Summoner. Not a single other character gets to be relevant without being powerful.

Even on a narrative level, it makes no sense. One, it's frankly kind of sexist (when are male protagonists ever expected to be segregated from their power) and two...that's the whole reason we're telling her story! That's why she's the protagonist! She is special. She can't be separated from this unique power destiny has handed her. We don't tell stories about common, boring people; we tell stories about people who incite conflict or change. So even the mere concept to me of basing a character's identity or value around not wanting value is frankly kind of ridiculous.

There's just this strangely insidious underpinning to the story that power is inherently dangerous, even as it acknowledges that people who are NOT in power can very much suffer at the hands of those who do. So where's the moral and ethical reflection about what this means for the rest of us? What does that mean for minorities?

Think of the scene on the boat where Aleksander has Ivan kill off the nobility. The narrative wants you to see this moment as blackly humorous and awful, but stop for a moment and think about what happened there from his perspective. This is a man who spent centuries watching his people get killed and enslaved, and that isn't a false representation or manipulation from him, either. His statement is backed up both by what we see in the flashbacks and by other Grisha. Nobody created a safe haven for him and his people - he did that! He had to claw his way to the top, flatter, kill, and fuck his way through god knows how many noble houses, just to get to this moment where he could build a Little Palace. And it took him four hundred years just to get that! All while Grisha are dying!

And nobody did anything about it. Not the king, not the landholders, not even the peasantry. They were happy taking advantage of the Grisha's powers, of course, when Aleksander helped raise them up into a position of prominence, making them soldiers and enchanters. And even then, they're mocked! The army can't wait to get rid of them!

And then some noblewoman, who has enjoyed the benefits of her wealth and power, some of which were built on the backs of your people, sits there and tells you, the moment you take hold of the power everybody else has been grabbing for centuries, has the audacity to sit there and tell you that the world will hate Grisha and view him as a heretic?? When less than twenty years ago, your people were being killed right and left? When the enemy is still kidnapping and enslaving your people? When your own countrymen view you with fear and intrigue already? The audacity to sit there and frame it as a hypothetical when it's very much an actual reality still going on. Just look at the barely hidden seething rage and contempt on Barnes face when he delivers that quip about "needing to do that speech again." Motherfucker has been waiting YEARS for this moment, this revenge. And really, who can blame him...if you aren't wrapped up in the narrative wanting you to focus on just what he's doing to poor Alina.

The way the Grisha's situation is framed along with how the Darkling's descent into villainy is handled is so just incongruent to me. The pieces don't fit. You're asking me to see this man as completely irredeemable after you just showed me six episodes of Grisha being killed both for being what they are in the hopes of protecting Alina, after you showed me that Aleksander had already TRIED appealing to the protection of the crown by lending it his power, after making us see that lies and manipulation are the only way he and his mother have been able to survive as long as they have in a world that eradicated them. Where is the compassion in the narrative for that?

And okay, fine, you can do an irredeemable villain. You can do a Kilmonger-esque story with the Darkling, but that requires forcing your protagonists to empathize with the villain and change from it. But then I read ahead and...that doesn't happen?? She winds up walking away from it all at the end?? In fact, she even loses her power. And that's supposed to be a HAPPY ending? After we just saw how badly this minority was treated for how many centuries??

You know what it feels like? It feels like Leigh Bardugo read The Hunger Games, tried to replicate a Katniss, and then completely failed to understand the profound situational differences between her protagonist and that one. Katniss is a girl made extraordinary by her circumstances. She's not special herself other than the fact that she did the right thing at the right place at the right time and helped create the tipping point for a revolution that was already in the works before her. Katniss walking away from the world after makes sense because she's burned out after the war, but it also got its use from her. She helped make the revolution work; she showed up for the event while it was happening and did what she could. The situation was out of her control and power for the most part, and she still managed to rise the occasion.

Alina is NOT Katniss. She is inherently special. She is inherently powerful. She has the ability to create change and bring a new perspective that Aleksander has long given up on and which her country desperately needs. We know the world of the Hunger Games will be better because the creators of real change were always working behind the scenes behind Katniss. She was just their propaganda, their symbol. Alina is a symbol, but she is also a very real power. It's not an act of moral celebration for her to walk away from power at the end, namely because there's a whole minority class of people we still have to worry about. Putting a Grisha on the throne is no promise the country won't turn against them eventually, nor does that protect the hundreds of Grisha at the mercy of a superstitious peasantry and countries that will likely continue to invade them.

It's just...I dunno guys. It's frustrating because all the compelling elements are there in the characters and storyline, but it's like the author had a set of characters telling one story and then she had an entirely different plot in mind, and they just clash all over the place for me and become thematically inconsistent. But what really gets me is that she had seven years to think this shit over...and we're looking to get the same story all over again. Usually, it's a great thing to have an author involved in the show. This is a rare situation where I wonder if it hurts the chances of it improving.

[cinnaminsvga]

Let the Dead Weep | Jimin

→ summary: jimin falls in love the only way he knows how: catastrophically. your heart ends up as collateral damage.

→ genre: royal guard!jimin, princess!reader, angst → warnings: jimin is cold-hearted but only because he’s afraid, jungkook tries his Best to pick up the pieces, heart ache city babey! → words: 5.6K → a/n: this was commissioned by the wonderful @kookiebunnii​!! thanks again for giving me the freedom to write my own wips (this is admittedly Very old... so old that i almost forgot this existed in my drafts lol) i hope you like it bc this one is prime zee angst propaganda... sorry jimin but i had to do it to ya (again)

The sound of clicking heels is an unusual occurrence at the royal training grounds. Accustomed to the cacophony of grunting men and clashing swords, Prince Jungkook does not immediately notice that something (or rather, someone) is out of place.

“Your defenses are down.” Jungkook thrusts his sword forward, disarming his sparring partner in one smooth motion. Surprised, his partner yelps as his sword clatters to the ground, his now empty hands raised awkwardly in befuddlement. But his shock does not last long, as his previously occupied gaze returns to where it was, his jaw agape as he continues to stare somewhere just outside the courtyard.

When Jungkook turns his head to the source, he finally understands why he had so easily defeated his distracted opponent.

Your bright white summer dress stands out starkly against the dreary autumn scenery, your skirt bunched up to your knees to avoid tripping over yourself. It seems as though the world has gone still from shock, every man in the vicinity holding their breaths at their first glimpse of the princess from up close. Even from where he stands, Jungkook can see the sweat flowing freely from your temples as you rush towards them, your chest heaving as you dash past dozens of starstruck onlookers towards your destination.

You don’t even spare Jungkook a glance when you pass by him, your eyes trained somewhere behind him as though nothing (or rather, no one) else in the courtyard matters. “Jimin!” you call out, nearly collapsing onto the man you had been looking for as you fail to stop your momentum in time. Luckily, the head of the royal guard catches you effortlessly, his hand previously resting on the hilt of his sword jumping up to find its place on your waist to steady you.

Jungkook watches as Jimin’s gaze sweeps through the sea of heads before landing on him. The guard’s posture stiffens, jaw clenching as the two men size each other up. Eventually, Jimin drops his hand from your waist as if he’d been burned, taking an inconspicuous step back to regain some sort of respectable distance.

Jimin clears his throat, his expression as stern as ever. It only takes a single glare from him for the excited whispers to die in a second. “Well? Did I tell you to stop? Take your positions,” he growls. In an instant, the men around Jungkook rise back to action, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing loudly once more.

“Your Highness? Shall we continue?” The boy he had been sparring with speaks out hesitantly, breaking Jungkook’s trance. Jungkook blinks slowly in confusion, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He takes one last glance at Jimin’s and your retreating forms, only managing to glimpse the trail of your skirt as Jimin quickly drags you away from prying eyes.

“Your Highness?” the boy repeats, more nervously this time. Jungkook fixes a smile on his face before turning to face him, gently patting the young boy on the shoulder with the ease and charisma only a prince could manage.

“Yes, let’s continue. On your guard,” Jungkook warns, poising his sword forward before taking the first strike.

x x x x x

Jimin drags you away to the nearby armory, causing a domino of shields to topple down in his haste to open the door. He shuts it closed, not bothering to find a light as he pulls you deeper into the large shed. Only the small window by the roof sheds any light for them to see, but it’s enough for you to see the barely concealed annoyance set in Jimin’s eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking? That was highly inappropriate for a princess,” he growls, lips downturned in a frown. He might be well-known amongst his men as a stern and unforgiving captain, but he has never been gruff with you. In any other scenario, you might have been shocked at his sudden change of face, but the news that you just heard from your father is still ringing loudly in your ears, distracting you from anything else.

“What am I thinking? I should be asking you that! How is it that despite being the princess of this damn kingdom, I am still the last to know anything around here?” you shriek, ignoring Jimin’s silent pleas for you to quiet down. No, you are done being quiet; if you had to choose a moment to you would throw away all etiquette classes out the window, it would be now.

Jimin heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, interrupting him. You hold up a finger when he makes a move to argue. “No, you answer my questions, first and foremost. Why did I only find out from my father just now that you volunteered to get stationed at the border?” You can feel your face heating up from the frustration and betrayal you feel; blood rushes up to your head and leaves you feeling dizzy, but you refuse to stop until he budges.

You’re breathing heavily, speaking so quickly that you doubt you’re making any sense right now. “The king requested for volunteers to fill the station guard units over a month ago. We’ve met and seen each other multiple times since then, and yet here we are,” you spit out, jabbing a nail into his chest. He barely budges, only keeping his head lowered. “Huh? Why on earth would you keep this from me? Answer me, Park Jimin!”

Jimin grimaces, his face contorting as if he’s in pain. He does not make a move to reply, only continues to avoid your fierce gaze. But even from where you stand under this dim light, you can tell from his expression that he isn’t guilty—just forlorn. Heartbroken, even.

You swallow thickly, blinking rapidly to keep your angry tears at bay, but your voice still cracks when you ask, “Why won’t you say anything?”

Finally, he looks at you. “What else is there to say?” He sounds as defeated as you feel.

And yet, you’re flabbergasted. You’re angry, tired, and hysterical—but above all else, you’re hurt. It feels as though a massive rock has dropped in your stomach, crashing waves against your chest like fire licking at your bones. The heavy feeling that has been weighing on you finally has a name, as you have been fighting to ignore what it was for ages now. Deep down, you know that this is inevitable, but somewhere inside you still resides the six-year-old child entrenched in her happy fairy tales, the same girl who believes that good things will always happen to good people.

You hoped that you would have at least deserved a warning. Preparation before this mirage disappeared forever. But Jimin had always been the type to rip the bandage and muscle through the pain, so you shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You just hoped that the two of you would still have more time.

A naive thing to desire, as Park Jimin was never yours to call your own.

You’re struggling to find the words to speak, anything to convince him to stay, even if you know it is not your place. He can see you grappling for straws, and perhaps it is out of pity or self-preservation, but he does not mention it. He does not say anything about you at all.

Eventually, he speaks. “I am… I have to...” He hesitates for a moment, taking one short glance at you before staring at the door. His hand grips the hilt of his sword tightly, though you know it is not because he itches to wield it, but for his ease of mind. You have learned, after years of growing up with him, that his only comfort comes from his own strength, his own ability to control his fate.

“Unfortunately, I must leave for now, Your Highness. Let us speak about this later before my subordinates begin to wonder.” There is a heaviness in his tone when he says that, like it is disgraceful for you to be seen with him. It reignites the fire in your veins once more, and you reflexively reach out to grab his retreating shoulder before the shed is suddenly bathed in light.

“Princess Y/N? Are you alright?” Prince Jungkook stands by the entrance of the armory, sweaty hair matted to his skin from his morning practice routine. For a moment, you almost hate the way he had sounded so… well-meaning, even though he had done nothing wrong to spite you. In fact, Jeon Jungkook has always been the perfect filial son, someone any royal family would be proud of.

And unfortunately for you, that was quite possibly the only reason you were betrothed to him in the first place.

You see him eye the pair of you curiously, his gaze gradually coming to a stop where your hand still rests against Jimin’s shoulder. You retract it immediately as if burned. You clear your throat, curtsying respectfully to him. “I am fine, Prince Jungkook. I am sorry for the scene I caused. I hope I did not interrupt your daily practice,” you say carefully, folding your hands in front of you.

Jungkook nods silently, his expression giving nothing away. Feeling awkward under his scrutiny, you curtsy to him once more. You shuffle away from Jimin without sparing him another glance, but you feel his gaze trained on your back like a brand. You wait for Jungkook to allow you to pass him before scuttling away, the ends of your dress dragging across the dirt path as you rush back towards the castle.

Stupid of you.

Jimin had been right, like always. News spreads fast within these ancient walls, and the chatterings about your emotional display are sure to reach your father’s ears one way or another. You doubt he’d be surprised by it; it’s no secret that your affections have always lied heavily on the royal guardsman. As long as you kept your secret rendezvous a secret, the King is more than happy to turn a blind eye. A reward, perhaps, for keeping your side of the deal.

Except that side of the deal hadn’t meant to arrive until your older brother had been wed, right after his search for his queen consort had been completed. But Jungkook’s family had been adamant to move things along, most likely due to their desperation to form an alliance with your prominent kingdom. As the seventh son, Jungkook hardly had any use for them in their household other than being goods for barter, and in any other case, you might have felt bad for him.

The guilt feels like a dagger pressing itself against your throat, and yet, you do not have the courage to fight against it. You sigh, defeated, as you stay reclused in your bedroom, waiting for Jimin to join you.

You don’t join your family for lunch that afternoon: a bigger mistake on your part, as it probably incriminates you further. Even worse still, Jungkook and his escorts are guests at the palace, and your absence doesn’t look good for your reputation. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care that day, only offering weak excuses about a headache to appease them.

To your surprise, Jungkook had vouched for you, according to your handmaiden. When you asked what he said, they said he had mentioned something about your pensiveness from this morning. You scoff, wondering if he must be covering your mistake for the sake of your future together.

The sun makes its way across the horizon and still no signs of Jimin visiting your quarters. You pace your room for so long that you fear leaving the carpet threadbare, your restlessness causing spikes of fear to trickle down your spine. Your entire body tingles with the need to do something, anything. Just to feel as though you still have some control, some sense of sanity.

By your dresser, your untouched violin sits, waiting forlornly for your hands to caress it once more. It is a gift from your mother for your birthday, though you have scarcely used it since then. You have always been talented with the violin, but the need to play it had died down once your days had been occupied with a different type of music—the sort of melodies that you could not pull from strings or brass.

You pluck the violin from its stand, the polished wood still smelling of varnish when you place it by your neck. You begin to play a piece from memory—a song that your tutor had once drilled into your head until your hands could move on their own. Even still, you love the piece with all your heart; the melancholy and longing of the notes resonate deeply within you.

You know that what you are doing is cruel, both to yourself and to him. With your window wide open, you are sure that the wind can carry your music to the royal offices, where Jimin is sure to hear it. Anyone would be able to tell that it is you playing, stringing note after note with hopeless abandon. Just to get a reaction, from anyone. Anything!

So deeply are you immersed in your playing that it takes a moment for you to notice the knocking. Your bow stills mid-way, your breath hitching when the knocking continues. “Just a moment,” you call out, hastily placing your violin back on your dresser before ripping open the door to find—

Prince Jungkook still has his hand poised to knock, not having anticipated you to open your door so quickly. “Oh, pardon me. I am so sorry to intrude on your playing. Have I come at a bad time?”

Your shoulders slacken, and your disappointment could not be more apparent. “Oh.”

Prince Jungkook smiles wryly, not appearing to be offended by your less than enthusiastic greeting. “I know that it is improper of me to ask, but could you invite me into your quarters for a moment? I would like to speak to you, if you would allow it.”

“Why would it be improper? We’re promised to each other anyway,” you reply bitterly, the words coming out before you can think twice.

Jungkook cringes, bowing his head sadly. “I suppose that is a bad thing, isn’t it?”

It is impossible not to feel bad after that, your face flushing deeply with shame. “Not exactly…” You offer an awkward smile to compensate, but you doubt that it reaches your eyes. You step aside, allowing him to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

His long legs allow him to take only two strides to reach the center of your room, his large frame engulfing the space. It almost feels suffocating, being here with him. Your mind unhelpfully compares him to the other only man who has ever entered your room, a man who had a much more lithe figure to the one with you right now.

You notice how he scans your room with sharp eyes, how he locks onto your violin immediately. He moves towards it and makes a motion as if to hold it, and after you give him your permission, he picks it up with reverence, turning it over with meticulous grace. “I was not aware that you were so gifted with musical talent,” he murmurs, plucking the strings experimentally.

You shrug, leaning against your door. “It was never brought up during our dinner conversations.” Not that much was said between the two of you during your meals together, as your father seems more interested in learning about Jungkook’s competency in politics than what his hobbies are.

He nods, absent-minded. He returns the violin to its proper place, his touch featherlike and graceful. He might be a violinist himself, you think. “That piece you were just playing… What was it called?”

A common question. “It’s a traditional song based on one of the kingdom’s myths,” you reply easily.

He nods again. “Why were you playing it?”

A less common question, one that you find more difficult to answer. “It… happened to be the first one I thought of, I suppose.” A half-truth, at the very least.

He hums thoughtfully, turning to you with doleful eyes. “Then I suppose that you must be grieving, are you not? if that is the sort of song that first comes to mind.”

You’re immediately defensive, curling into yourself as you watch him suspiciously. “My father… He told you, didn’t he?”

Even though you do not expound on what you mean, the prince is quick to shake his head in denial. “Nothing my eyes have not already seen.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, hackles rising as you size him up. “What do you want from me then? A confession? For me to go on my knees and ask for forgiveness?” you spit.

He stares at you, astonished. “Who am I to dole out absolution when I am but only a man?”

“So does that mean you have committed the same mistakes that I have? I find that hard to believe,” you scoff, lowering your guard in your annoyance. He’s only been in your room for a few minutes and already you tire of his company; you wonder how you’ll manage to keep your sanity while spending your life with him.

But in truth, even if he hadn’t irritated you, even if he was the nicest man in the world, he would never compare to the man you have already laid your heart with.

He shakes his head once more, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Not quite, but I do understand what you’re going through. Somewhat.”

Somewhat, he says. The more you observe him, the more you realize how young he is. Not just in the way he appears, but also in the way he talks and moves, almost like the stars trapped in his eyes have yet to escape. You can imagine him falling for one of the servant girls back in his own palace, secretly swapping lovelorn gazes across polished halls. Unlike you, he must not have acted on his greed, knowing the extent of his responsibility to his house and kingdom.

Unlike you, he does not bear a cruel bone in his body, as he would never subject that poor girl to the sort of heartbreak that only a clandestine relationship could offer.

“I want to make myself clear to you, my princess. I did not come here to accuse you of anything. I came here because I wanted to make myself clear with you,” he says. You raise a brow, urging him to continue.

“I am not asking you to fall in love with me,” he says plainly. It surprises you greatly, to hear him speak so candidly. Ever the perfect politician, he’d only ever spoken with care and precision, always anticipating the other party’s reaction. You have spoken with enough visiting royals to know that he is well-versed in that sort of language, so to hear him speak so brazenly is almost refreshing.

“I wouldn’t have offered, regardless,” you respond, smirking sardonically. He laughs at that, and you can hear the honesty in his laughter, too.

“Fair. But for the sake of the people who put their faith in us, I would suggest,” he pauses, licking his lips as he mulls over his next words, “that we might be sincere with one another. Just so our union may not perish… prematurely.”

You don’t respond, scanning him for any ill intent. As a princess from an illustrious kingdom, you have needed to stave off numerous lords and princes from taking your hand for their own wicked gain. However, none of your previous suitors were like Prince Jungkook, who genuinely seemed to care greatly for his people, as seen by how kindly he has treated his entourage of helpers.

He waits for you to say something, but eventually, he continues, “Princess Y/N, it would be the greatest honor if you would allow me to know you better. I seek nothing more than your companionship.” He blushes slightly, coughing into his fists. “W-well, not that you owe me that, as we could very well live separately for the rest of our lives, but... Umm… That came out a little more awkward than I intended, but I hope you get the gist.”

You realize, then, that he desires to live peacefully with you—guilelessly and unselfishly. Perhaps he is doing this for his parents (highly likely), or perhaps he has no other choice (extremely likely). But the fact remains that in front of you stands a good man with a simple wish: to become friends with you, if not at least become amicable with one another.

“Then I suppose you want to know more about me? About my story?” you ask sarcastically. “Want to know why the eldest daughter of the king is off frolicking with the captain of his guard?”

Jungkook snorts, an easy smile on his lips. “Well, you could tell me that, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘when did you learn to play the violin?’ and other neutral information. You know, like how normal people converse.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he had been making fun of you. “Hey, watch it, princeling. You’re not in the clear just yet,” you huff, but there is no bite to your bark. You can tell that he knows this, from the way his tense figure has relaxed tremendously in this short amount of time. You notice your own tension fading away too, if only infinitesimally.

“I can start if you want,” he hums, tapping a finger on his chin as he thinks. “Well, I have always wanted to tell you this, but you might think I might be buttering your ass if I did, pardon the language—”

You laugh loudly, baffled by his seemingly out-of-nowhere casual demeanor. In your bedroom, with his shoulders slackened and hair still disheveled from his morning practice, he looks nothing like the perfect prince you had boxed him in as. “Pardoned,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“—but I’ve always found your tenacity to be admirable. Your dedication to your people, evidenced by your tireless work to make their lives better, has always struck me as inspirational. Pardon the cliché, but you really aren’t like other girls,” he says.

You wave off his compliments. “By the sounds of it, you must have this line practiced to perfection. Don’t tell me this is what you say to the other princesses when you confess to them.”

He flushes darkly, stuttering at your brash comment. The sight makes you snort, only worsening his embarrassment. “I have, um, never confessed to anyone before…”

“I find that hard to believe. Sure, you might not be like me—” you say drily. You haven’t sentenced your own life to heartache and misfortune, is what you mean to say. The pang in your chest comes back with a vengeance, but you carry on. “—but I would imagine that you’ve had to sweet talk many princesses before me. I was not your parents’ first choice, was I?”

“Indeed,” he admits awkwardly. “But I am not completely powerless. My father had allowed me some freedom when choosing a bride, and I…” he trails off, swallowing nervously. He gestures to you vaguely, unwilling to keep eye contact as he does.

You gape at him, pointing to yourself. “You… You chose me? Why?”

“It’s exactly as I said,” he shrugs. “I read about the things you’ve done, and I was drawn to you. It seems that my freedom has indirectly caused your misery, however…” he says ashamedly.

Guilt coils up you for the umpteenth time that day, except now it is directed at the boy in front of you. Foolish of you to think that your actions only affected you and your lover. Foolish of you to believe that your actions don’t have consequences bigger than you might have imagined.

“It… is not your fault,” you grit out, though it pains you to say. Not because it is a lie, but rather, it is a painful truth: a pill you have finally been forced to swallow. “My recklessness has caused more wreckage than I would have imagined.”

“I must admit that I have always been in love with the concept of love,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck, shyly turning away from you. “I believe that while love comes in all different shapes and sizes, it is certainly never supposed to be cruel. It is never selfish or… painful.”

Your eyes narrow, fully understanding his implications. “Then you must be as naive as you appear,” you snarl. You step away from the doorway, making your way towards the prince until your chests were merely a breath apart. However, he doesn’t back away like you thought he would. He stands his ground, looking at you through his long lashes.

“You wouldn’t understand. Have you ever loved someone so deeply that even the thought of being apart wounds you? Have you ever stayed awake at night, listening carefully to the sound of your own beating heart, aching for someone you cannot have? It is an ache, Jungkook, that cannot be salved with pretty words and sentiments. It is not a choice,” you finish, vision growing blurry with unshed tears. But you refuse to let them fall, not for a boy who didn’t know better.

His gaze is level with your own, his breathing steady. His eyes look dark to you, no longer sparkling like they once did. But before you can blink, the darkness is gone, replaced with his carefully crafted neutrality. The princely politician makes his return, except he’s a little sadder. Disappointed, even. “No, I have not experienced any of that. I cannot say for certain what is true, but I have always thought that love should be gentle and kind. Something to be enjoyed, and not a cause of strife.”

He steps away from you, his footsteps light as he makes his way to the door. When he twists the doorknob, he stills for a moment. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N. Don’t… keep hurting yourself, okay? A lot of people care for you, even if they don’t say it. Even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

You bark out a laugh, but it sounds watered down to your ears. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me already.”

He smiles at you, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs before bidding you farewell.

You’re left alone again, and your room feels significantly more hollow. Your entire body is vibrating, filled with an unidentifiable feeling swirling in your chest like a hurricane. Was it anger? Frustration? Hopelessness? Guilt? Perhaps an ungodly concoction of all four?

You feel nauseous, almost falling over from the strength of it. Everything about today has caused you to lose your hold on your sanity, the urge to scream in anguish becoming more unbearable by the second.

Love should be gentle and kind, he said. Despite how sweet his intentions, his words still feel like poison. How dare he say that to you, when he knows that you wish it was true?

You grab your violin by the neck, your violent grip causing the wood to creak. Your hands shake, tears freely falling into the sea of your self-pity.

You drag your bow harshly against the strings, striking a sound louder than your own frustrated cry. A few of the hairs snap, but you continue, playing like a madwoman possessed. The music is frantic, agonizing—goosebumps trail your skin unprompted. Your pain overflows until even the dead can hear you weep.

Your violin almost drowns out the sound of another knock at your door. “Go away,” you growl, playing more fiercely. The violin groans, as if in pain. “If you’ve come back to lecture me about love again—”

“Your Highness,” a softer voice responds. It’s not Jungkook like you had thought. “It’s Jimin.”

Even if he had not announced himself, you would have known just by his footsteps. You freeze, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You swipe a hand across your cheek in a futile attempt to hide away the evidence. Even without a mirror, you know that your eyes are puffy and bloodshot.

He enters without your prompting: comfortable enough to invade your space as if he had not torn your heart to pieces just hours ago. His gaze immediately goes to your face, a staggered breath leaving his lungs when he sees your hollow expression. But that moment of weakness disappears in an instant, the same stoic captain from this morning reappearing right in front of you.

“Had you been expecting someone else?” he asks in place of a greeting. There is an edge to his tone, you notice. If you didn’t know better, you might have missed it. Jealousy. How dare he.

You squint at him, but you say nothing. The air is icy with tension, enough to freeze hell twice over.

He clears his throat. “I’ve come to apologize, your Highness. It was out of line for a royal guard such as myself to drag you so brusquely like that. It will not happen again,” he murmurs.

You can hear the hidden meaning buried in his words. It won’t happen again, because I won’t be here to do it.

“Is that all you have to say?” you whisper. You place your violin down carefully, but your vision is already turning blurry once more. You won’t cry in front of him. You refuse to be the only one hurt from this.

He sighs, as if worn by your childish antics. “Y/N, you don’t understand—”

When he calls you by your name, the fraying string inside of you snaps. “Save it,” you seethe. “You’re a coward, that’s what you are. There isn’t anything to understand.”

“No, you should understand,” Jimin steps forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. He shakes you, desperation hanging off every inch of his frame. “As a princess, you should know what it means to serve the people. You should know more than anyone about the oaths I made to this kingdom. You should be proud of me!”

His increasing volume only encourages you to match him, your throat nearly getting torn in two from how loudly you shout. “Cut the patriotic act! Do you think I’ve forgotten all the whispers you’ve planted in my head? About how you wished more than anything to work with your brothers as performers, how you wished you hadn’t been the breadwinner of your family just so you wouldn’t have to sell your strength to my father?”

“I was naive. I should have known it was my responsibility,” he counters.

“Then what about all the promises you made to me during our nights together? You swore to love me forever under starry nights and disheveled sheets. You said you’d run away with me, just so I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else!”

Jimin grits his teeth. “Meer words of comfort. The babblings of a child.”

You shove him away, your skin burning from where he touched you. “Then actions must speak louder than words, correct? You cannot hide from me when your lovemaking spoke volumes. ”

For once, it seems Park Jimin is at a loss for words. He clenches his fists by his side, looking utterly defeated. “Y/N… You know that it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t,” you mumble, lips trembling. “I really don’t.”

“Even so,” Jimin says. He lifts a finger, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “It is better that I make the choice than you.”

Better that he breaks your heart than you. “We… we could’ve found another way,” you croak, helpless.

Jimin only smiles sadly. “The prince… He is a good man. I have been watching him these past few weeks and I know that he will—” his voice catches, and he has to pause for a moment to regain his composure. “He will make a good match for you. It would be wrong for us to…”

It pains you to admit it, but he’s right. Jungkook doesn’t deserve your infidelity. And yet, even if Jimin were to leave, would you ever be wholly Jungkook’s anyway? What would be the difference, if your heart will continue to yearn for another man regardless?

“Tell me this, then. For once, spare me from your half-truths. Drive the final nail into my coffin so that I know that you are truly certain.” You force him to look you directly in the eye, his pupils shaking as he takes you in for what might be his last time. It is almost as if time had stopped, and only the two of you existed in this space. This bedroom that you called your haven, the place where you had fallen in love—the place that will witness your first heartache.

“If our lives could have been different, would you have loved me then?”

Jimin has never looked so weary, so different from the boisterous boy you had met all those years ago. “I’m sure… that I would’ve done what was best. For the greater good.”

“And does that greater good include us? How do we fit in that equation?”

But he only steps away, his hand still outstretched as if to hold you. Then, he slowly tucks it behind him, his posture straightening the way a guard should. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he says, the note of finality ringing loud and clear.

He pries open the door, hesitating only for one more moment before chancing one last glance at you. “Tomorrow… I leave with my men. I would appreciate it if you don’t come.”

The door closes, and your question remains unanswered.

Just like him, the empty silence of your room refuses to respond, no matter how many times you ask.

Because in the sanctity of your bedroom, no promises ever did hold. The Park Jimin you loved was never real in the first place, and no matter how much you slam your fists and stomp your feet, he’s never going to love you the way you want him to.

And there you stand, all by your lonesome, without the prying gazes of those who expect better of you. Gruesomely, and painfully you.

[greensaplinggrace]

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 3)

1 2 3 4

His shadow powers are so badass, literally how could you not celebrate him for that alone?

Villain wears black trope REPRESENT.

The way his cloak billows dramatically in episode one before Alina enters the Fold.

The way his cloak billows in general.

His little face in the background after his and Alina’s first kiss as he tries to compose himself.

Him knocking on the table in episode five when he gets back to see Alina. My mans was so hopeful that he’d finally get to third base with the love of his life. RIP.

Large hands. Very tall.

The way he literally cannot tear his eyes away from Alina during the entire scene where Alina dresses him and they have their first kiss.

The softest looking hair I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe Alina got to run her hands through it and she still left him.

How he urgently looks around for Alina outside after she leaves in episode five, right before he confronts Baghra. He’s very frantic and panting and clearly concerned and not being subtle at all about his emotions.

Also the way he walks when he’s leaving Baghra, with his hands stuck out to the side and his fists clenching and unclenching as his form grows smaller in the distance. He looks like a tiny penguin waddling away.

Son’s evil dastardly bastard plans once again thwarted by own mother. Can you imagine living for an eternity and never being free of your parents? Fuck all that other shit, no wonder he went darkside.

“She is all that matters now, not me. She is the future. She is the one-” SIMP

His little smile before he goes to answer the door after they kiss. The way his hold on her lingers as if he can’t bear to part with her. Forehead touch. They are giggling.

The way he runs back in for another kiss. This man is so gone it’s not even funny.

He calls her to him in the books and she spends the entire time agonizing over how upset he’s going to be. The man literally just wants to ask her about her day.

Defends Alina to Baghra after he witnesses her getting harassed. Defends himself to Baghra after she treats him like shit. Love that for him.

“I made something.” / “Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.” / “It’s my own name I’m afraid of forgetting.” / “He understood then. The Grisha lived as shadows, passing over the surface of the world, touching nothing. Forced to change their shapes and hide in corners, driven by fear as shadows were driven by the sun. No safe place. No haven.” / “There will be, he promised the darkness, words written upon his heart. I will make one.”

Him offering Alina his kvas. They drink from the same glass.

Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova having to look away and calm himself when Alina licks her lips after drinking his kvas.

Literally his entire confrontation with Kaz. Absolutely hilarious. Local centuries old Black Heretic gets bested by a teenager with one (1) flash grenade.

“I never intended for it to be the blight it’s become.” - Genuine regret. A+++.

Asks Mal what Alina’s favorite flowers are and then gives them to her. Was it manipulative? Yes. Was it awful? Absolutely. Was it the funniest and smoothest shit I’ve ever seen? 100%. I laughed my ass off.

Alina: *enters the fete dressed in the black kefta* *Darkling.exe has stopped working*

This man takes one look at her lack of guards and goes: what’s more important than how beautiful the wifey looks? her safety. *protective bf mode initiated*

He admires how pretty he appears in the mirror of his room with absolutely zero shame and 100% pride. We stan a vain icon in this house💕. Also the mirror is in front of the bed?!?! 👀👀👀

His knife ring.

“You looked like you needed saving,” as fire plays across his features and he looks at Alina with an expression that makes my soul want to splinter into pieces. The implications, the pain.

Will display his complete and utter adoration for Alina in front of the entire Court including the King and Queen despite the fact that that is the worst thing he could possibly do in the political environment.

“No ordinary tracker. No ordinary girl. Orphans of Keramzin reunited. AdOrAbLe.” - How do you say you have issues without saying you have issues?

The way he eclipses Alina when he’s stepping down from the dais. The inherent romantic symbolism of the eclipse and what that means for him.

Him getting excited about the stag to the point where he’s eagerly rummaging through the maps on his table and urgently asking Mal tons of questions.

The five second delay in his thoughts as he processes that Mal isn’t cooperating. Poor guy really thought that everything was finally coming up Sasha for once.

He constantly uplifts Alina after Baghra’s emotional abuse. He constantly helps her with her self esteem and reassures her that she’s doing well and that she just needs more time.

“Yeah I don’t know what Baghra’s summoning ability is,” he said, like a liar.

Even after Baghra suggests that Alina left he doesn’t believe it. He has to hear it from Kaz after searching for ages before he finally begins to believe it.

“You smuggle Grisha out of MY PALACE!”

Titty grab during the kiss scene.

He lifts her up onto the table!!

Local whipped dark overlord gets excited that Fedyor has found Alina and has to suffer through the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick fool when he learns it’s just about Nina.

His relationship with Nikolai.

The fact that Alina’s scarf blows past him before they even meet.

The way he nods with such an understanding expression when the Conductor is lying his ass off as if he sympathizes with everything the other man is saying and isn’t secretly planning his elaborate murder.

Puppy dog eyes all the time.

Every time his smile is forced and ingenuine and he looks like he’s about to stab someone.

Every time his smile is genuine and he looks super soft and loving.

“You have no chance, ShAdoW mAn.” Literally how is he ever going to recover from this.

His hands motions when he summons. I just think they’re neat.

He kills the Conductor. Hated that guy. And he looked sexy as fuck doing it.

He hates the Druskelle, he hates the Ravkan monarchy. I can relate.

He’s NOT a bootlicker, unlike some.

Dad mode gets activated when David raises his hand. Aleksander just goes along with it like an exasperated father.

Ben Barnes nose scronch.

He begs for Luda’s life.

“Merzost feeds on us. I forbid it!” two seconds later *frantic rummaging through notes on the merzost* *reading the Forbidden Knowledge™ without any hesitation* *Immediate Disaster Occurs*

“Mom look what I made!” “Your art is atrocious and you’re no longer my son.”

His history was written by the victors. The tale of the Black Heretic is straight up propaganda by the corrupt monarchy.

Immortal old man caught in a young adult love triangle: I read your letters. Malyen “what the fuck is happening on this here day” Oretsev: ??!?!?!!! who even are you??

Aleksander admitting he needs Alina.

Darklina hand holds.

He did not have to make that episode eight hand-hold on the skiff so sensual but he did it anyways.

The way he hides under his cloak like a turtle when Jesper shoots at him.

He looks so awkward and isolated at the fete surrounded by all of those colorful nobles.

He’s always ready to murder a bitch and honestly I respect that.

Would kill for his gf.

That entire scene where he kisses Alina in the snow in the books like the most awkward motherfucker and then goes “wtf just happened?! Darkling out” before fleeing the scene of the Emotion.

He’s eternally confused by his feelings for Alina and it’s hilarious.

“Looking for trouble, and if I cannot find it I will create it.”

He’s basically just a moth attracted to a fatal light. RIP.

The way he throws open double doors like a man on a mission.

“Follow.”

He’s utterly precious and I would die for him. 🖤

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter IV

The next morning, (Y/n) found herself to be the first one up. Carefully and quietly, she flew over to the door and used her small body to open it. Exiting the hotel room, she flew out of the Mother of Pearl and headed to the beach. In her small form, she sat on the white sands and admired the view just like she did the day before.

As the sun slowly rose above the horizon, her attention was drawn to a man who was also enjoying the beach at such an early hour in the morning. Taking a closer look, she realized it was the spiky-haired man who was accompanying the other oddly-dressed stranger yesterday. He was laying on his back, arms folded behind his head with his eyes shut.

Without thinking, she transformed into her human form. She figured he hadn't seen her, but that thought was quickly dismissed when she heard him chuckle. "So that's what you look like." He opened his eyes and pushed himself off the sand, brushing off whatever he could. "You're that guardian with those guys, right?"

(Y/n) remained silent with a stoic expression. She wasn't fond of strangers, especially the ones who kept odd company and were difficult to read. The man noticed her sealed lips and sighed. "Not much of a talker, huh? That'll make this easier then." Her eyes narrowed as he took a few steps towards her. He held up his hands to show he wouldn't hurt her. One of his hands gravitate towards the hem of his shirt, where he lifted it up and revealed the emerald gemstone embedded in the flesh of his abdomen. "I'm a guardian just like yourself."

Now she could no longer remain silent. "Then what's with your eyes?"

"Contacts. My...master insists I wear them due to how dangerous it is to be a guardian."

She crossed her arms, popping a hip out. "What do you mean "dangerous"?"

"Guess you haven't heard," he said. "The empire's been on a massive hunt to kill spirits. Now that Insomnia is destroyed, it'll make their hunt much more easy."

Her eyes widened in horror. "What?"

"Oh, damn. You didn't hear about that either?" The man handed her a newspaper. "This'll be able to tell you more than I could."

She took the newspaper and read the headline.

Insomnia Falls

Her eyes darted back and forth as she skimmed over the details. She couldn't believe what she was reading, especially when it came from a complete stranger. Tossing the newspaper, she transformed and took to the sky.

Flying as fast as she could, she left Galdin Quay and landed in the Longwythe Rest Area. She transformed and searched for the local newspaper. It had the same headline as the paper the man showed her. Still in disbelief, she transformed once again and few in the direction of Insomnia. She tried to convince herself the papers were lying and it was only propaganda, but she couldn't. Flying as high as she could, she hovered in the air.

When coming as close to the city as she possibly could, her sapphire eyes soaked in the image of the burning, smoking remains of Insomnia. Plumes of smoke rose into the air, fogging the sky above. Imperial dreadnoughts flew to and from the city.

Eventually, the sky was overcome with dark clouds. (Y/n) flew down to safety near the city checkpoint, which was occupied by imperial forces. She hid behind a concrete barricade as it began pouring down rain. Looking past the imperial forces, she saw the Regalia turn down a side road. Sneaking past the imperial forces, she followed the car. From a distance, she watched as they made their way up the hill that provided a perfect view of Insomnia. They fought through imperial troopers and magiteks, clearly angered by what the empire had done to their home.

The guardian knew the boys could handle the enemies without her and remained on the sidelines. She stopped briefly when the voice she heard from her dreams echoed around her.

Chosen...vessel...

She transformed in the spot she had been hiding and looked around. "Who are you?"

Creator...

Her brows furrowed together in confusion. The voice was almost like an echo in the distance. It was unclear and she couldn't understand its broken speech pattern. She shook her head, casting the voice aside. "Maybe I really am going crazy." Looking up, she squinted her eyes to prevent the rain from falling into them. Through the storm clouds, she could see the familiar cluster of stars that radiated brilliantly-the Celestial Crescent. It was a grouping of stars only spirits could see. The darkest clouds couldn't obscure its bright brilliance of various hues of colors, not even the sun could wash it away with its warm, bright rays of light.

(Y/n) tore her gaze away from the Celestial Crescent at the sound of the boys walking past her hiding spot. She overheard them talking about her. They were all worried about her, even Gladio. She had taken off without telling them and they feared the worst had happened. Inhaling deeply, she followed after them back to the car. She no longer wished to hide her human form from Prompto, Noctis, and Gladio. The charade ended today.

Just as (Y/n) caught up with the boys, an imperial drop ship found their location. Magiteks poured from the hatch and surrounded the boys. It wasn't something they couldn't handle, but Noctis was being more careless than usual. He was fueled by his anger and wasn't thinking straight, failing to deliver the finishing blow to one of the MTs. It dragged its body off the ground behind the prince and raised its axe to finish him off. Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio were too occupied with being swarmed by other magiteks that they didn't see the single one that resurrected.

The guardian morphed a blade from pure ice and joined the fray. She charged towards the MT and pierced its body from behind before it could hurt Noctis. Sparks emitted from the hole in its back and abdomen as the sword shattered.

Noctis heard the dying shrieks of the MT and turned around. He watched it collapse, eyes widening when he spotted the girl behind it. He recognized her from Galdin Quay and was able to easily piece together the puzzle. "(Y/n)."

She smiled at him, her heart racing as she tried her best to keep her shy nature in check. "Sorry for keeping it a secret for so long." She took a few steps back before looking towards Ignis. "I also want to apologize for running off like I did. The news was overbearing and I wanted to see it for myself."

"I am simply relieved you are safe," the advisor replied, smiling faintly.

Noctis nodded in agreement. "Yeah, especially after what that weirdo told us."

"Weirdo?" (Y/n) mumbled.

"That spiky-haired guy we met yesterday."

She knew exactly who he was talking about. "He's the one who told me about Insomnia, and how the empire's hunting down spirits for some reason."

"We feared the empire had apprehended you," Ignis said.

The guardian's cerulean eyes drifted over to Gladio and Prompto, who had yet to say anything. She saw they were shocked at her appearance and couldn't say anything. She immediately looked away, feeling her shyness break through. "W-Where to now?"

"Hammerhead," the strategist said. "The marshal will be waiting for us. We best make haste."

Back at the Regalia, Ignis was about to hop into the driver's seat when he noticed (Y/n)'s discomfort. He spoke up on her behalf and addressed the photographer in their group. "Prompto, do be a gentleman and relinquish the front seat to (Y/n)."

The marksman nodded with flushed cheeks. "Y-Yeah, sure thing." He quickly climbed into the backseat with Gladio and Noctis. It was a tight squeeze, but the boys were more than happy to give the girl some space.

Their ride to Hammerhead was silent. Not even Ignis or (Y/n) spoke to each other. What happened to their home lingered in their minds and they couldn't think about anything else or what to say to each other.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the outpost and quickly departed again after learning from Cid that Cor was waiting for them at Prairie Outpost. As they drove to their next destination, (Y/n) kept her gaze on the passing scenery. She still hadn't built up the courage to speak to Prompto or Gladio just yet. She folded her arms atop the window sill and rested her chin on her forearms. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the feeling of the breeze tousling her (h/c) locks. She didn't open her eyes until they arrived at Prairie Outpost.

Exiting the vehicle, the group walked up to a woman. She greeted Noctis, clearly relieved as she spoke. "Your Highness. I'm glad you're safe."

Gladio recognizes the woman before them. "Monica! Where're all the others?"

"Most of the Crownsguard didn't make it. It was all we could do to escort Lady Iris out of the city. Dustin is with her as we speak, seeing her the rest of the way to Lestallum."

"I owe you guys big time."

"Head for the royal tomb. The marshal awaits."

As they headed to the tomb and walked by many hunters, (Y/n) tensed up slightly. She could feel the eyes of many on her as she followed behind Noctis. She had fallen behind without realizing and grabbed the attention of the prince. "You, uh...okay there, (Y/n)?" He also wasn't used to seeing her human form, but at least he was talking to her unlike Prompto and Gladio.

She nodded. "I-I'm fine."

The raven-haired boy tugged at his messy fringe. "Specs did say you were shy."

"I-It's not just that," she said, looking around at the hunters. She caught a few blatantly staring at her while others immediately looked away when she caught their eyes on her. "People are staring. Maybe because my kind are rare to find."

Noctis' eyes raked over the girl's form. Her beauty rivaled that of Lunafreya's and Cindy's. He cleared his throat and immediately looked away. "Yeah, we'll go with that..."

Continuing down the dirt trail, Prompto eventually asked about the woman they recently spoke to. "So who is this Monica person?"

"A servant of the Crownsguard, like Gladio and myself," Ignis replied.

"She's one of my father's best," Gladio added. "Along with Dustin-who's guarding my sister."

"Good to know we still have people we can count on outside the city," Noctis commented.

As the royal retinue continues making their way for the Tomb of the Wise, the boys began talking about Cor. (Y/n) listened to their conversation, remaining silent. She had met the Marshal the day they left Insomnia, but she hasn't properly been introduced to him. She remembered Ignis talking about him from time to time, which made her understand he was a man held in high regards by many.

Once their trek ended, they arrived at the Tomb of the Wise. The entrance was wide open and there was no sign of Cor. Walking into the tomb, they found the marshal waiting for them, standing beside a sarcophagus that bears a sword in its hands.

"Marshal," Ignis addressed the man.

Cor's gaze focused on the prince. "At last, Your Highness."

Noctis was clearly irritated as he spoke. "Yeah, wanna tell me what I'm here for?"

"The power of kings, passed from the old to the new through the bonding of souls. One such soul lies before you. To claim your forebears' power is your birthright and duty as king," the marshal explained.

"My duty as king of what?" Noctis hissed through gritted teeth.

"Now is not the time to question your calling," Cor remarked with a hint of anger. "A king is sworn to protect his people."

"And yet he chose to protect only one prince. Was that his calling? Forsake the masses to spare his own son?"

Cor's eyes narrowed. "How long will you remain the protected? The king entrusted the role of protector to you."

""Entrusted" it to me? Then why didn't he tell me that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left? Why-Why did he lie to me?"

"That day, he didn't want you to remember him as the king. In what time you had left, he wanted to be your father. He always had faith in you, that when the time came, you would ascend for the sake of your people."

"Guess he left me no choice." Noctis holds out his hand over the sarcophagus. The sword embedded in the stone phases through the casket's hands and floats into the air. It then flies into Noctis' body, being absorbed into him and added to his arsenal. He now had the power of his ancestor.

Cor spoke again after witnessing Noctis successfully absorb his ancestor's power. "That's not the only power your forebears left you. Your journey's just begun. Another tomb lies close by. I suggest you head there next. There are tombs scattered across the land. All are on dangerous ground. I'll go with you, for the time being. Not only to help, but to get a measure of your strength."

"So just how many of these "powers" are out there?" Noctis asked.

"There are thirteen known royal arms, each enshrined at a royal tomb, though we know the location of only a few. I've enlisted the Hunters. They comb the land in search of the lost tombs."

"Where's the one nearby you mentioned?"

"Keycatrich Trench. We know there to be a crypt deep inside the tunnels. Before we set out, there's another thing I must tell you."

The prince crossed his arms. "And what's that?"

"The empire's hunting down guardians and killing them to prevent you from obtaining the conduit. Find this spirit and obtain their blessing."

Noctis glanced over at (Y/n) for a split second before looking back at the marshal. "Why do I need this blessing?"

Cor sighed. "That, I'm afraid I don't understand." He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. The jewel adorning it was black, cracked, and had a silver phoenix wrapped around it. (Y/n)'s eyes widen in shock, which didn't go unnoticed by the marshal.

"What're we looking at, Marshal?" Gladio questioned.

"Seems the guardian amongst you is already aware."

All eyes fell on (Y/n). She couldn't tear her own gaze away from the necklace. "A guardian gemstone. When we pass, the gemstone cracks and turns black." She took a step forward. "Marshal, who does this necklace belong to?"

"Me," Cor replied. "I lost her years ago. She's the one who told me about the conduit, but she never mentioned why the prophesized King would need them. Only that he would require their blessing. You wouldn't happen to know, would you?"

She hung her head. "I'm afraid not. Forgive me, Marshal."

The man put the necklace back into his pocket. "Minor change of plans."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Noctis asked.

"I want to see (Y/n) in action. The rest of you will stand on the sidelines."

"Marshal, I can assure you," Ignis started but was promptly interrupted by Cor.

"It's more to satisfy my curiosity than an evaluation. I'm well aware of the power possessed by guardians. I'm more interested in her unique abilities." The marshal looked over at the (h/c)-haired girl. "Let's depart."

The group left the royal tomb and headed to the next one in Keycatrich Trench. They were all silent until they spotted imperial forces in the distance. Among the soldiers were two mechs, which is what (Y/n) had her sights set on. She snuck off without telling the others and infiltrated enemy ranks.

Prompto was the first to notice her absence when they came to a stop. "Uh, guys? Where did (Y/n) go?"

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis looked around for her, but couldn't find her. Cor went to make a remark, but he held his tongue when they heard the imperial soldiers screaming and shooting. Looking towards the troopers, they saw the two magitek armors were targeting their fellow imperial soldiers.

When all the soldiers were annihilated, one of magitek armors turned to face the other and fired a single rocket. The second mech exploded into pieces while the first one was suddenly speared with large shards of ice.

The men were in awe and shock at what they had witnessed. Carefully, they approached the remains of the carnage and found an innocent-looking (Y/n) standing among the remains of the exploded magitek armors. She combed her (h/c) locks over her shoulders as the others approached her.

"I don't know what you did, but well done," Cor complimented.

"I only performed a minor lightning incantation on the mechs to manipulate the coding and turn them against their own allies," she explained.

"You made it look like a walk in the park," Noctis commented.

"The way to Keycatrich Trench is clear. We shouldn't linger too long or more imperial forces will show up."

They arrived at the entrance of Keycatrich Trench and Cor took a key out of his pocket and tossed it towards Noctis. "Here's where we go our separate ways. Take this key. It unlocks the doors to the other tombs. Seek them out and lay claim to the power they hold. You'll need it."

Noctis examines the key before meeting the marshal's gaze. "And what will you do?"

"Keep an eye on the Niffs and see if I can dig up more information on this conduit. But you should focus on your own task."

"I will."

Cor turned and left. With the marshal gone, the group proceeded into Keycatrich Trench.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

[stillness-in-green]

Hi there

I did want to ask what was your opinion about re destro being detained in the storyline atm? I somehow find myself worried horikoshi might pull some bullshit over on that situation with how what happened to destro when he was caught.

Also any opinions on how re destro is taking that whole situation? I remember on the one panel seeing Geten in tears most likely for failing him.

My god, anon, I am so sorry for letting this one sit so long. I think you sent it when I had just gotten into the MVA In Memoriam posts, which have been utterly consuming me, and it slipped my mind until I got another ask in and saw yours down below it. Apologies, and I hope you see this, whoever you are (and the other two people who I have asks from, I promise I will get to them ASAP).

As to how I feel about RD in prison?

(More below the cut, obviously.)

I actually have mixed feelings on it, anon! I want him to be out and doing more and being an active participant in the plot the way I assumed he’d be when he, you know, emerged from Deika alive and rejuvenated. It drives me bonkers that the MLA is presented as this polished, trained Army, with their leadership being described as “stronger than the average Hero,” yet not a single one of them can apparently take a Hero in a head-on fight, and they all just completely fold during the raid.

As I have said many, many times before, what is even the point of letting Shigaraki win Re-Destro as an ally if Shigaraki doesn’t even get to keep him for a full arc? (And Gigantomachia, and Ujiko, and the MLA in general, and Sad Man’s Parade as a useable tactic, and so on and so forth.)

It’s so frustrating to build up the PLF as this huge threat and then break it into pieces with the war. And like, yes, technically Hero Society was broken too, but just in terms of named and relevant characters, the hero side didn’t lose anywhere near as much, and is already in the process of picking up the pieces, while the villains continue to languish, in isolation or in prison or in forced association with All For One.

I adored watching Skeptic try to work the propaganda arm in this last chapter, but I’d much rather have seen that work being done outside of AFO’s auspices, you know? Between this ask and some chat with friends, I’m really coming to realize how fed up I am with OFA and AFO’s shallow Perfectly Selfless Good versus Perfectly Selfish Evil nonsense gumming up the gears on all the conflicts in this series I actually care about. Please give us back the evil ideologues who can actually make arguments worth a damn!

On the other hand, it's not like I've loved the treatment of the villains that we have gotten of late, either. The current method of bringing up characters with long-running plot lines or connections, or what ought to be really intimidating reputations, making the vaguest of attempts to engage with whatever their issue is before taping a bandaid over it over the course of 1-3 chapters and then shipping them back off to the Memory Hole is super frustrating. (See: Muscular, Overhaul, Nagant, consequences for Twice’s death, the three chapters we actually got to see of Re-Destro fighting at the villa, any of the new-to-the-story escapees from Tartarus, the second and third bearers’ reaction to the idea of saving Shigaraki, the various ways All Might’s Pillar ideology has failed, and I’m getting away from what can be called “villains” or even “characters” here, but you understand what I mean.)

Will anyone ever even try to figure out what made Muscular turn out the way he did while not square in the middle of a deathmatch with him? Is anyone going to realize that Overhaul is never going to get better at empathizing with others as long as he's being kept locked up in an isolation cell? Is the story really just going to let Hawks and the other Heroes off the hook for wrestling with the systemic evils of the HPSC by having the clone of a villain kill the HPSC’s leader and pretending that’s sufficient to take out a department of the government? Is there ever going to be an explanation for why, exactly, Nagant was won over by Deku’s bright idealism when the whole thing that broke her in the first place was bright idealists who didn’t know what kind of evils were being committed to maintain their way of life?

I could go on and on about this, but what it really boils down to is that, if Re-Destro is only going to show up again to unload his ideology on a teenager whose deepest sociological insight is, “It's bad when people are in pain,” before the teenager kicks his ass and ships him back to prison, no, I’d just as soon he stay in prison and then I’ll write the fix-it fic when the series is over.

As to how I think Re-Destro’s doing in there? Well, I headcanon him as claustrophobic, so if I were writing the fic, I’d make it such that he’s having a pretty bad time, especially if he’s in anything even resembling Tartarus--the isolation cell, the restraints, and so on. I actually kind of wonder to what degree they’d need to just keep him drugged to keep his Stress levels even remotely at levels at which a bullet wouldn’t bounce right off of him and a Burden attack wouldn’t shatter the wall like a potato chip getting hit with a hammer. (Which would be a problem if he were in one of Tartarus’s underwater cells, but at least that's not on the table right now.)

Since I’m not writing the story, I imagine he’s doing as okay as can be expected--worried about his followers, his cause, his allies, and his liberator, but coping as best he can, talking to people where he can, because he is a talker, that Rikiya. Probably frustrated with how slowly things move, torn between fighting proceedings as hard as possible because his cause demands that people be willing to make that kind of stand (him more than anyone), or cooperating with authorities so that the rest of his people--Trumpet and Geten and so many others--won’t have to suffer unnecessarily. But I don’t think anything really crucial is going to happen to him one way or another as long as he's detained, largely because Horikoshi has a history of treating imprisonment like a status effect, like the Paralysis ailment or a stasis field, in which nothing happens and no plot advances.

Characters in prison in BNHA don’t change their views (for better or for worse); they don’t break out absent help from outside; they just go Inside and freeze exactly where they were until the story’s ready to engage with them again. Overhaul is the only imprisoned person we know of who’s changed in any way other than his hairstyle, but I strongly suspect that the impression we’re supposed to take away from that isn’t that Overhaul’s deterioration is due to the psychological rigors of solitary confinement, but is rather a breakdown brought on by the loss of his arms and attendant ability to repair the damage done to his Pops. That is, Overhaul’s current reduced mental capacity isn’t the state’s fault; it’s Shigaraki’s.

Does Re-Destro have problems that I think could reduce him to a gibbering wreck if left in solitary long enough? Even commit suicide, like his vaunted ancestor? Oh, sure. Do I think Horikoshi would actually take him that route? Based on prior patterns, not at all. I complain a lot, obviously, but the fact of the matter is that Muscular did come back; Overhaul did come back. Stain came back and is even still loose. Gentle Criminal and La Brava haven’t, yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they do eventually. RD’s in a weird position because he wasn’t an arc villain for Deku, but it would still be a bit odd to just never see him again, especially with MLA survivors so pointedly still out there fighting for liberation. I don’t see a hero among those currently working that I think would actually represent a lethal threat to RD, assuming he does escape/get broken out later, nor do I see Shigaraki murdering him for kicks at this point.

On the other hand, we are allegedly coming into the end phase of the story, and it’s anyone’s guess whether the MLA’s desires will be reflected at all in the ending we get. It’s entirely possible that RD will still just be sitting in prison in whatever series-ending montage we get, and that’s the last we’ll see of him. It’s not what I’d want for him, but what I want for him has to contend with the reality of his being a villain, and with the very real possibility that we’re headed for an ending in which the systemic problems created by the current laws surrounding quirk use and the failures of the Pillar ideal are nothing but background color for the One For All verses All For One legacy grudge match. And if Horikoshi doesn’t honestly believe Re-Destro has something to contribute to that story, I’d rather not suffer through watching him try.

Thanks for the ask, anon! Here's hoping we get something satisfying out of Re-Destro and the rest yet.

[world-of-horrors-au]

Horrors au - Nosocomephobia Chapter 2 excerpt

Hello! I'm looking for some feedback on this part of the next chapter. Not just spelling and grammar stuff, I'd like to hear what you think about the characters, the dialogue, what you think will happen next, whatever comes to mind. You can send these as asks or through a message, whatever works best for you. If nothing else, if you read this, can you like the post so I can tell who's seen it? It'll be encouraging to me. Hope you enjoy!

---

With a grunt, Briar rolled over and pushed herself to her hands and knees. Her head pounded, and she closed her eyes.

"He was playing with me," she mumbled aloud.

"Playing with his food," a male voice said. "You'd think he had better manners than that."

Her eyes opened. Briar looked up from the speckled tile, vision swaying.

It was an old office she'd landed in. Dusty filing cabinets lined the wall beside her. Two plastic bags filled with paper, an old, broken wooden desk in the center of the room. Her vision stabilized, looking through the blue tinted darkness, allowing her to see the man sitting behind the old desk. He tilted his head at her, and the shadows stood strange on his face. Of course they did, she realized a moment later. He didn't have a face at all.

"But I suppose I shouldn't ask too much from a Horror," the faceless man said. "The prodigal children of fear and grief... Perhaps they don't know any better."

Briar pushed herself onto her feet. She swayed, catching herself on one of the filing cabinets. Blood and dust brushed against her tongue as she inhaled.

"You're not a Horror," she said. The man tilted his empty head. "You're not a Beast either," she said.

There was no mouth on his face to smile, but the shadows seemed to change on the paper white skin, as if he was.

"The word your kind has for me is the last one that would come to your mind," he said. "I am a beast, yes, a horror beyond human knowledge, but I am far, far from merely being just that. I know who you are, Briar Gillespie, and I know who you were, and I know all that you have done. But you needn't be afraid of me. I am not your enemy." His head tilted the other way. "Not yet."

Her legs tensed, and she swallowed. "I don't believe you," she said. "No one knows everything about me except for me."

An unmistakable chuckle came from the pale man.

"I read you so well. It is one of my gifts. I look at you and I see the past that has shaped you, the love you sought and the people who keep you up at night." He leaned back in the chair, hands folding together. "I look at you and I understand why you never took in another cat after losing Captain."

She stepped back hard, side bumping into a cabinet. A hand slapped over her open mouth. How, how - no.

"We are not having this conversation," Briar said, straightened, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "I will not be psychoanalyzed by a man without a face."

"Of course," he said, and she opened her eyes again. "I shouldn't take up so much of your time anyway. You have such little of it left."

He wasn't wrong, she thought.

"Help me," Briar said. "If you are so powerful, help me survive."

"You underestimate your own strength," he said. "Do you really need my help?"

She didn't answer, staring at the being with steely eyes. He sighed.

"I can only do so much," he said. "There are limits to my interferences. But I will tell you this: the deal you've been given is more unfair than you realize."

Briar scowled. "I'm a human versus a demonic maniac that's killed hundreds of people. What is there I don't know?"

Another chuckle burst from the man, and he smoothed a white hand over the emptiness where his mouth should be.

"That wasn't funny, I apologize," he said. "But think, Briar." He leaned forward in his seat. "You've lived in this world all your life. What do you know about Horror attacks like this?"

What did she know? She knew a lot. The ever changing guides and drills they did in school, the arguments on the television and radio, the cheerful propaganda cartoons with their special lessons. But he was right, there was something she was missing, now that she thought about it. Something was off…

Her stomach dropped.

"They follow the pattern of the Horror that's been reported," she said. He nodded. "And no one has ever survived Eyeless Jack."

Briar exhaled.

"They're not going to come rescue me. They think I'm already dead."

"An unfortunate truth," the faceless man said. "They won't send their agents in search of a corpse, not when there are so many more for the coroners to collect."

"They won't come in until they see him leave," she said, more to herself than him. "And he's not going to leave until I'm dead."

She should've known. She should've known better than to have hope…

"Damn it!" Briar spun, kicking out. Her foot met the metal of the filing cabinet beside her. The soft, rusted metal gave way, denting inward. She yelped, anger vanishing as the cabinet leaned towards her. As she moved the falling cabinet to face the wall instead of crashing to the ground, the faceless man shook his head.

"Terrible material, already rusted, to the point even humans can do damage to it without thinking. There's a metaphor in that."

"Leave the metaphors for the English majors," she said, wiping the dust on her hands on her clothes. She looked at him again, closer, and he looked back.

A faceless man in a dark suit, a human woman in a stained white shirt. They looked at each other, until Briar blinked and looked away.

"Who are you?" She said. "Your name. I know you have one."

"Do you now?" He said, his tone amused. "I have many, in truth, all given to me by humans. These days, I've chosen to take on one of the monikers you have given me. I feel it's appropriate for how I am viewed. You may call me the Slenderman. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Pleasure's mine," Briar said, though there was little pleasure or comfort in her tone. "You're probably not gonna stop him again if he barges in here, will you?"

"I don't think I need to," the Slenderman said. "You are clearly strong enough on your own. Though may I suggest a weapon? A more permanent one than a shattered piece of wood."

Of course he'd seen that too. She grimaced.

"Good… good advice," she said. Briar moved to turn, then looked back. "Are you gonna try and kill me yourself once I finish this off?"

"I give you my word," he said. "I will do you no harm."

She swallowed.

"Right, right…"

Briar turned towards the door to the hallway. Out there, Eyeless Jack waited, and here couldn't be much safer. She couldn't just wait for death to come, she had to meet it up front and kick it in the ass.

"And Briar?"

Slenderman spoke again. She hesitated.

"When you escape, tell your mentor I said hello."

"Wh-" Briar looked back. The chair the entity once sat in was empty. All that remained was where the dust had moved in his presence. She turned back to the hall.

"You really got me into something deep, didn't you?" She said to no one. Briar adjusted her purse. "Got a lot of explaining to do when I survive."

[inkstaineddove]

Renewal

Characters: Prussia, Austria; mentioned Germany and Russia

Summary:  After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Roderich invited Gilbert to Vienna in an attempt to clear the other man's mind and provide him with an opportunity to get outside. They catch up, knocking the rust off their strange relationship after not seeing each other for years.

Vienna, 1989.

Gilbert looked around, shifting in his seat nervously and absentmindedly folding and re-folding the sleeves on his shirt. How he loathed Vienna, loathed it and this ridiculous castle. Roderich’s tastes had always been too luxurious for his liking, the home decorated to be an ostentatious display of wealth and filled with antique furniture. It made him so uncomfortable, afraid that he might sneeze and be forced into debt to repay the cost of whatever he ruined.

His host returned, placing two wine glasses down before them. "Why so anxious?" Roderich didn't have to be focused on Gilbert to feel the wave of unease rolling of him. It also didn't help that he could hear the incessant tapping of Gilbert's foot, a nervous habit he'd had for years. "I would've expected you to be relieved to be out of your own country. Are we no longer good enough for you here?" His voice lilted up at the end of the sentence, gently teasing his guest.

"I hate this city. The people here have always been so snobbish. Your home looks like a poor man's idea of a rich man. It always has, it's excessive." Prussia waved a hand in a noncommittal way. "It's....everything's a lot."

As he took a long sip of his wine, Austria sighed. "Are you done?" The Prussian nodded. "I figured it would be nice for you to travel again, now that you could. I didn't think me rushing to Berlin would do you any good. You need to see what you missed of the world." It was his roundabout way of saying it meant a lot that Gilbert would visit him first.

"It's strange though. When you're in a cage for so long, you get used to it. In a certain way it even becomes comforting. The isolation almost becomes welcome or that you feel you deserved it." Prussia's eyes were burning with an indescribable emotion when they locked with Austria's. There was a flesh of desperation in them, gone as quickly as it appeared. "I can't help feeling that, in some way, I deserved it for everything. Monsters belong to be imprisoned."

That broke something in Roderich. He felt his heart throb with sympathy. He forced himself to keep the eye contact, despite wanting to look away in fear of giving away too much. "You're not a monster. And if you are, then so am I." He smiled faintly, trying to make them both feel better in vain. "All you've ever been is a bit boorish, but that's not a criminal offense."

They drank in silence. Both had been more vulnerable with the other than they'd wished. It was still too new, viewing each other as confidants and uneasy friends instead of the enemy. It felt even worse to consider them on opposing sides now, not after they'd shared so much and fought against much worse. How could they think of each other as evil when they finally knew what true evil was? It would feel like a dismissal of everything. No, they'd have to learn to get used to rhythms of this new stage in their relationship and whatever it would bring.

Roderich passively observed Gilbert. He'd never seen the man so unsure of himself. Normally Gilbert's ego suffocated the whole room. He moved in a way that commanded attention, that challenged the world to consent to his will or face the consequences of disobedience. This was not the same man. His emotions were impossible to decipher, walled off in a place deep within. His eyes kept darting around as if he was searching for the nearest escape.

Gilbert reached for his glass of wine. Roderich snatched his wrist midair. "My God, Gilbert. What happened?" Scars crisscrossed Gilbert's skin. Most appeared to finally be disappearing for good, but many remained.

"Relax, I didn't cause them." Gilbert jerked his hand away, hiding it beneath the table. "It's nothing for you to be concerned about. It's better I took a few more beatings than the others." He gave a toothy smile, trying to bring some normalcy to everything. "You're the one who said it's always what I've been good for."

A dark emotion passed across Roderich's face. A sickly feeling crept into his stomach. "I may have said so, but I never acted on it in such a way." It wasn't unusual for him to be so furious in Gilbert's presence, but it was for it to be on Gilbert's behalf. "What a barbarian. Where's the humanity? To act with such cruel disregard for other's and their sufferings? What a big man, I'm trembling." He scoffed. "To think he was the boogeyman we were all so terrified of for all these years. To be so fearful of a coward is dishonorable."

Such strong sentiments were shocking. For once in his life, Gilbert didn't know quite what to say. Unworthiness overwhelmed him. He bowed his head, staring at his hands as they played with the lace ends of the tablecloth. "You don't have to pretend to care so much. I appreciate the invitation enough as it is. Save me your mock outrage."

"You think I'm pretending?"

"Did I stutter?" It was the most Gilbert-esque thing he'd said all day. In any other conversation, it would've been a revelation.

Roderich rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. How to get it through such a thick skull? "I understand that our relationship hasn't always been on the best of terms, to put it incredibly mildly. But you have to be a bigger idiot than I ever thought possible to not realize my feelings on you have changed." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Really, Gilbert, actually think about this. After my divorce, against every possible logical expectation, you were the only one to check on me. Not only once, you made a point of visiting every month to harass me and give me some semblance of normalcy. And you never mentioned whatever it was you were doing with Erzsébet! It was the most oddly comforting thing and, to my horror, I began looking forward to seeing you." He rolled his eyes. "Let's not even mention the last war. We were thick as thieves then, running off and getting into whatever mischief was necessary."

"You only worked with me then because you had to." Gilbert remained glum, but didn’t dare to look at Roderich squarely to prevent being proved wrong.

"Oh, please. Bavaria and Saxony shot down our offer, I could've done the same to you had I wanted to. But I didn't because I trusted your judgement and wanted in on your little scheme. And I don't regret that to this day, regardless of whatever the personal costs may have been." Roderich smiled and it reached his eyes. "Whenever I had the misfortune of meeting Iv-Russia," he stopped himself, refusing to use Russia's personal name out of principle. "I would hound him by constantly asking after you. How you're doing, were you holding up well, urging him to pass on messages to you from Ludwig and me. I would do the same on Erzsébet's behalf, but you were the focus. I had visions of you trying to be her savior and winding up in an even worse position."

Gilbert bit his lip, wearing an incredibly guilty look. "How did you guess?"

“Because I know you! Every time we'd sign a new treaty or agreement, you'd be begging me to make her life better. It got to the point where I was telling my advisors to throw in an expansion of Hungarian rights before we even began negotiations.” Roderich rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that behavior would've ceased, especially under rulers with a much crueler bent? Though I appreciate that it must surely make my monarchs look so kindly and benevolent.”

There was no point in even touching that last part. Especially when Austria would have ample examples of Hohenzollern excesses to throw in Prussia's face. Instead, he focused on how touched he felt over everything. Things really had changed for them, the tables had turned so completely. A warmth spread throughout Gilbert's chest. “I had no idea you asked about me.”

“I suspected you didn't. I have no idea why Russia would be so reluctant to pass on anything to you two. We weren't trying to spread Western propaganda, or whatever he would be concerned for. The only goal was to let you both know your family still loved and missed you gravely.”

“He wanted us to be one big, happy family. To do that, for some fucked up reason, he felt like he had to constantly tell us that no one on the outside cared in order to break us down. It really got to those who only had friends on the inside regardless of whatever Erzsi or I said to them.” Gilbert shrugged, nonchalantly. Out of everything that happened behind the wall, this facet concerned him least. Its effects on him had been minimal. He couldn't believe Ludwig, no matter the bad terms they parted on, would disown Gilbert and leave him to the wolves. The kid had always been loyal to a fault. “Wait, you missed me? And consider me family?”

The vein in Roderich's forehead began throbbing. “Why is this so difficult for you to understand?’ Grumbling, he hurried off and returned with a pen and piece of paper. “I'm going to make this very simple and I'm going to speak slowly so you understand. Look me in the eyes, if you misunderstand a word of this, I'm going to hit you." Once they made eye contact, Roderich continued. “Our relationship has changed, meaning things are different now. I regard you, Gilbert, as not only one of my closest friends, but as family. And not merely the most distant of cousins either, close family, the type of family you wish to spend time around and worry for when appropriate.” He quickly wrote something on the paper before sliding it over the table. "Here. Try carrying this around with you in case you forget again."

Gilbert picked it up. It read ‚Roderich und ich sind Familie.’ He folded it and tucked it into his wallet, unable to stop himself from smiling. Perhaps his existence wasn’t so pointless, perhaps there was some meaning to be gleaned from his life. "You're actually a good guy. A really good guy. I wish I'd realized it sooner." His heart felt so full it could burst.

It was Roderich's turn to be caught off-guard. He looked away, studying the Schwind that hung on the opposite wall. “‘Good’ is not a classification I would accept so willingly. At the risk of sounding too Catholic even for myself, we've all committed sin. I'm simply trying to learn from mine, even if it's a bit late in some cases.” His lips turned the slightest bit upward. “But I do appreciate the compliment.”

"You realized it sooner than everyone else we know." Gilbert sipped his wine, needing something to do with his hands. "Don't be so hard on yourself. That has to count for something." A coy smile slipped through. "Besides, I know you hid people in your homes throughout the war. You shouldn't look so surprised; you were always asking me to help you stock up on food and clothes and you suddenly had new servants here. What other explanation could there have been?"

Despite all the time that had passed, the acknowledgement of his deed caused Roderich's heart to race. The instinctual fear at getting caught took over, regardless of there being an absence of authorities who would arrest him for it. "Well, I knew many of the upcoming Viennese artists and musicians then. It seemed...such a waste of incredible talent and life." He paused, the memories coming in vivid technicolor. "Anyone would've done the same."

"You know that's not true."

There was a point there. "I wanted to at least sound humble, regardless of whether it reflected reality accurately." He folded his hands in his lap. This was something he'd never discussed before; it was a secret he'd kept close to his heart first out of a survival instinct and later out of a desire to not be viewed in a heroic light. "You yourself noted how my last name could be perceived, as had various Jewish communities here. Over the years I'd warmed up to them and begun to count many of them as friends, those especially who easily shrugged off or accepted the nature of our existence. To turn on them in their greatest hour of need seemed to me to be beyond reprehensible. I had grown close to many of them, been invited into their homes, to witness their births, deaths, and marriages. You'll understand more than anyone else that, for my own peace of mind, I had to do what was right."

Gilbert had listened in silence. The coy little smirk never left his face. “The ice king does have a heart.” At Roderich's bewildered expression, Gilbert barked out a laugh. “Relax! I'm only kidding! You're looking at me as if I just shot your dog!” He wiped a wayward tear out the corner of his eye. “What can I say? I'm not surprised by any of this. Despite your best efforts, you're not heartless. A couple centuries ago, I could see you ignoring everything and letting the chips fall where they may, but not now. You figured out that having a little humanity isn't so bad.”

Now, that was insulting. Roderich harrumphed. “You say it’s a joke, but must you make me sound like a being incapable of the most basic of emotions?” He folded his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes in the process. Oddly enough, the prickle of irritation felt comforting. Over Gilbert’s long absence, Roderich had naturally felt annoyed at others plenty of times. But being aggrieved over America’s brashness or Arthur’s arrogance or Francis’ smugness didn’t feel quite the same. Being irritated at Gilbert came as easily as breathing air, felt like the comfort of sheets against you at night. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it till this very moment.

Apparently, his face was giving it away. “What are you staring at me like that for?” Gilbert’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did I suddenly grow a third eye or something?”

“‘Or something’ for sure.” The corners of Roderich’s lips softened into an easy smile. “It’s nice to have you home, that’s all. It seems I really did miss you.”

Gilbert grinned, his most natural one yet of the evening. “I’m back forever now. There’s no more getting rid of me. From now on, you’ll be stuck with me till the end of eternity.”

“Threatening me so soon?” Roderich brought his wine glass to his lips, smiling. Against all odds, he was looking forward to the rest of eternity.

[gotthesilver]

fic: Your Mind and Your Heart, Explicit, 7.9k, Steve/Tony (MCU)

the fic I wrote for the Cap-Iron Man Holiday exchange! I had a lot of fun writing this, and it looks like people enjoyed it, so yay! * It’s not that Steve hates his birthday, he just doesn’t understand the fuss people make over them, over him, more often than not. Birthdays meant something when he was a kid, when his ma would’ve scraped together enough ingredients to make him a cake, even if it were lopsided and not even that sweet, when Bucky would’ve stolen a penny toy and lied about it, just to give him a gift. The last birthday he remembers actually enjoying was the last one before his ma died, after that he happily let his birthdays take a backseat to the Fourth celebrations. And then the war happened and his birthday didn’t mean much aside from becoming another piece of propaganda. So, when Tony asks him what he wants for his birthday at the Fourth party he’s throwing, Steve shrugs and says “to get laid,” without even thinking about it. “You—excuse me?” “Shit, I didn’t mean—” Steve can feel his cheeks flush with heat as he realises what he’s said. “Ignore that, really, I’ve had some of Thor’s mead and I—” “That’s a cute excuse, but I know you’ve been drinking Mojitos and, unless Erskine’s science was very very wrong, those don’t affect you. So,” Tony hops up on the counter, the muscles in his arms flexing as he does. “No dice.” “Is there any way I can get you to drop this?” Steve asks, folding his arms over his chest. “Tony, I don’t really want to—” “Hey, I only came in here to see why you were hiding from the party. And to make sure you hadn’t found the birthday cake I have hidden away.” “There’s cake?” “It’s your birthday,” Tony says, looking at him with a curious expression on his face. “Of course there’s cake. And don’t try and change the subject, do you really want to get laid? Because I can help you with that, uh. If you want.” Steve raises an eyebrow as he looks at Tony, perched on the counter in shorts and a ratty old Duran Duran t-shirt. “You could—what do you mean by that, exactly?" continue reading at ao3

[gwoongi]

𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ☽ slytherin yoongi

𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 min yoongi / reader hogwarts au words: 4378

a/n: once again, the prompts were taken from this post :-) feel free to send requests (i am currently working on requests sent to me, thank u for all ur patience!) ((this fic features prompts 3, 4, 5, 6, 16, 17))

a/n 2: in this fic we give pansy parkinson redemption bc i love her and she deserves the sun and a man like jeongguk

Yoongi should have known that things were too good to be true when he was sorted into Slytherin alongside another fluently speaking British Korean, Jeon Jeongguk. Looking back on the ceremony, over six years ago now, it’s definitely too perfect to be realistic; and actually, now that he’s thinking about it, Professor Dumbledore looked way too happy to see two Koreans in the same year in the same house, sitting on the same bench eating from the same bowl of creamy mashed potato.

His family moving to Sussex when he was five was a risky move. Yoongi had no real friends in his town, if you didn’t count the next door neighbour’s ratty Yorkshire Terrier who always escaped his garden through the fences and regularly took a shit on their patio. Yoongi was never a social butterfly; he could be found sitting inside during break-time with a colouring book or a blank piece of paper, drawing and writing or otherwise just staring out the window at the other kids playing hopscotch on the playground. Honestly, he didn’t care about joining groups and being friends with people - Yoongi had expected to move back to Daegu for high-school, just like his family had planned. Then his Dad got some promotion that paid the bills and then Yoongi got his Hogwarts letter.

Now, Yoongi sits in the Slytherin Common Room, six years later, staring at Jeongguk with his arms folded and lower back rested against the back of the sofa, situated in front of the fire. He stares at Jeongguk with an unamused stare, blank like his notebooks for potions, one eyebrow cocked with disbelief.

“You’re sexiling me again?”

“Look, this is only until next weekend,” Jeongguk pleads, the eleven year old that Yoongi wanted to wrap in cotton wool on the Hogwarts Express threatening to jump out with big bug eyes. “Me and Parkinson are finally hitting it off.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re chasing after Malfoy’s sloppy seconds.”

“She deserves better than him,” Jeongguk frowns, and Yoongi looks closer and notices that Jeongguk is serious about this. He’s serious about Pansy Parkinson, and he should have known from the first time Jeongguk recited an essay probably titled, Why Pansy Parkinson Is Actually Really Nice, with bullet point number one being that Jeongguk found Pansy secretly tutoring three Hufflepuff first years in DADA, and discovered that Pansy bakes mint-chocolate cookies with the house elves at midnight, when nobody is around. Jeongguk personally finds it a shame that she wasted so much time trying to get Draco Malfoy’s attention when he very obviously always had eyes for a certain know-it-all Gryffindor, and as for Yoongi - well, he doesn’t really have an opinion.

“Anyway, it’s just for now,” Jeongguk continues, shaking his head as if getting rid of the thoughts. “I’m sorry - I know, I’m the worst.”

Yoongi just sighs, straightening up and looking at Jeongguk. “Whatever Guk. Let me get my jumper- you owe me, though. After tonight, you fucking owe me.”

When a wide smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face, Yoongi almost thinks that it’s worth it; he climbs the stairs to the sixth year’s bedroom and grabs his jumper, a gift from Jeongguk when he went to America last summer, and then hops back down into the Common Room, where he’s incredibly unsurprised to see Jeongguk already twisting his arms around the short black-haired girl. 

Yoongi almost wants to smile; Jeongguk’s too sweet for Slytherin, with only his cool exterior and black clothing that makes him even remotely scary. He watches before heading out of the Common Room as Jeongguk wraps Pansy’s hair around her ear, revealing a helix piercing she got over Easter last year, and he nuzzles his nose into her cheek, eliciting a series of uncharacteristic giggles from the girl. Yoongi nods and walks away - they look good together, he thinks, and then he stops thinking when he leaves the Common Room at 9:15pm, realising he has nowhere to go.

Kim Seokjin was the Slytherin prefect, coincidentally on hallway duty when he sees Yoongi stumbling into the corridor near to the kitchens. Seokjin isn’t a snitch, unless it’s on other houses, and he pretends to look the other way when Yoongi heads down the corridor towards the house-elf who hurries across the hallway, waving at him with a familiar smile and beckoning him inside of the kitchen.

Now, not that Seokjin has ever gone out of his way to stalk Yoongi and map out his ideal evenings outside of the Common Room, but he’s pretty sure he has never seen Yoongi stalk the kitchen hallway, dangerously close to the Hufflepuff Common Room, whose door is directly inside the kitchen by the barrels of vinegar. But Seokjin shrugs instead of going to investigate, already on the hunt for other students whose names don’t start with Min and end with Yoongi.

Yoongi follows the elf into the kitchen, listening as they chatter about a lemon sponge they made in the morning that sits to cool in the cupboard above the sinks- which, although Yoongi is not a chef, he thinks is a weird place to store a cake. He notices the pale yellow jumper knitted around their body and he rolls his eyes, already knowing it’s the work of Miss Hermione Granger, who has also taken it upon herself to pin pamphlets for her saving elves club, or whatever, all around school. Yoongi recalls ripping one down from the Common Room after Malfoy stuck it there to be supportive; he has nothing against the elves, but he does have everything against Malfoy sticking Gryffindor propaganda around his Common Room, because god-damnit, Yoongi is older and he makes the rules of what can and can not be stuck on their corkboard.

He follows her further into the kitchen, bowing out of politeness as the rest of the staff rush around him. It occurs to him that nobody in this kitchen ever really has a day off to rest; either that, or Dumbledore hired about a million elves to man the kitchen, as six push past him to run into the adjoining kitchen where he smells cookie dough. The elves haven’t quite mastered the bow, and they stutter in movements around him trying to get away. Maybe they’re just not as polite in Scotland as they are in Korea, but again, it’s not as if he’s been back to Daegu since he moved to Sussex. He has his Dad and his Dad’s crazy skills to thank for that one.

“...and Winky must work! Miss Y/N, Winky needs to bake!”

Out of instinct, Yoongi ducks behind some empty shelves, looking like a right idiot as Winky, one of the elves, dashes towards another student in the kitchen. Yoongi glances upwards, noticing the student right away, and a breath of air is pushed out of his lungs. Winky tugs at the girl’s corduroy slacks with a small whimper.

“I won’t make a sound. It’ll be like I’m not even here,” the girl promises, patting Winky’s head and she stubbornly moves away. Yoongi already knows Winky is harmless and the girl is Winky’s friend, probably the only other student besides himself who Winky bakes extra batches for.

“You can’t just sit there all day,” Winky squeaks. “What if somebody comes in and sees that Winky is not working?”

“I will fight them,” the girl replies, jutting her chin out with defiance. “If they hurt you, I will beat them up. Okay?”

Winky nods for a moment before crying out with realisation, running backwards to hurry into the room where an explosion of flour bursts, and Yoongi winces with a hiss when an elf scurries past him and steps on the back of his ankle. His cover is now exposed; he leaps into view whilst glaring at the elf as they run away, and Yoongi looks towards the girl who stares back with a half amused expression, bringing a slice of sponge cake to her mouth and taking a bite.

“It’s a bit late for a slice of cake, L/N.”

You crack a smile, swallowing the dry cake. “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion, Min.” Despite the words, you part your legs and beckon him forward with the wave of your hand, bringing the plate and breaking a corner of the cake with a fork. “Say ah!”

Yoongi does not say “ah”, but opens his mouth for the bite. When he swallows, he looks back at you and scoffs when he notices a cheeky grin on your lips: “I’m not here to make friends.”

“Who said that?” you reply, nudging the plate away towards the sinks. “Nobody said that.”

“You’re so funny,” Yoongi says with a monotone voice, and you don’t even flinch when Yoongi positions himself between your legs, resting his hands on your hips, fingers feathering your waist and the skin shown from the cropped tee. In-fact, you lock him in place, hooking your ankles behind his back and bringing him closer, slightly dipping your head to capture his lips in a kiss. 

At first it is light, almost as if it never even happened. Yoongi squints at you when you pull away, expecting more, and one hand moves from your waist to your cheek where he brings you back down for a second, this one much deeper.

Your relationship with Yoongi has always been confusing, and complicated, and most importantly, secret. Nobody at all knew what was going on between Yoongi and yourself; even better than that, nobody at all knew that Yoongi knew who you were. To some, the dynamic was even weirder than Granger and Malfoy, born rivals, born opposites, a lion and a snake. In this case, it was the snake and the badger, wriggling around in tight spaces around the castle, sharing kisses like last breaths.

Yoongi had always been fond of you, even when you stared at him with slight fear in first year when he tried to sit next to you in History of Magic. The emblem on your breast meant very little to him, but meant everything to everybody else; he’d walk several steps behind you, waiting until late fifth year when he finally plucked up the courage and accidentally cornered you into Filch’s store cupboard. Granted, it worked out fine, with the cupboard rising in temperature very quickly, but it never answered the question of What The Hell Was This, and how long it would last. All Yoongi knew was that from the moment he had you tongue tied and dripping in Filch’s dusty cupboard, he would do anything to have a second taste.

Yoongi pulls away first, viewing the way your eyes remain closed for a long three seconds before they fluttered open, peering down at him. He almost straightens up with pride when you unhook your ankles and let them gently swing next to him, your fingers curling in the strings of his jumper.

“What are you doing down here?” you ask finally, your voice quieter without any need to be loud. Your face is, after-all, inches from his own, and the smell of burning is non-existent with the sound of elf footsteps filling the room, just like normal.

“I need a place to stay,” Yoongi replies after a moment's pause. “I’ve been sexiled. Again.”

You hum noncommittally, still curling the strings. “Well, that’s tragic.”

“And you owe me,” Yoongi reminds, because apparently, he does a lot of favours for people. You had almost forgotten how Yoongi took the blame for your failed prank on Cho Chang after someone mentioned in the Hufflepuff Sleepover that she “totally snitched on Potter, and even though he’s a bit of a bellend, nobody deserved Umbridge’s detentions.” Yeah- the mustard bomb you planted in her bag backfired when it blew up on Umbridge herself, and Yoongi couldn’t bear to let you sit through her torture-detention and took one for the team. You apologised excessively when he left the room late at night and kissed the back of his hand over and over until the pain turned into numb lip stains, and he promised you could do him a favour in the future to make up for it.

“So, what?” you ask. “You want to stay in the kitchens? Not very sanitary.”

“I was thinking more your Common Room, but I guess, if you’re ashamed of me, then I can sleep out here in the cold surrounded by elf feet…” His voice trails off and he perks when you laugh, your hands fluffing his hair and then falling back to your lap. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” you shake your head with a grin. “I’m not ashamed of you, by the way. I just...I didn’t think you wanted to make it official like that.”

“Nobody’s making it official.”

“The second you walk in there, every Hufflepuff is gonna label us as the next Dramione. You want that?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You pause. “I could make a list?”

“Please, no-”

“There was George Weasley- I remember when he awkwardly turned me down in the library in third year, his loss-”

“I’m too sober for this,” Yoongi groans, pulling away completely. Instead of turning away completely, he reaches for the large plate of lemon sponge cake and cuts two large slices. “Look, can’t you just do me this favour once? It’s just until Jeongguk finally dicks down Parkinson.”

“Pansy Parkinson?”

“Yeah, the short one. Not very friendly, hides behind her hair, actually kinda cute when she stops being a bitch and chasing after Malfoy.”

“Oh, yeah, I know her. We made brownies together in September,” you nod, jumping down from the counter and wiping away invisible dust from your trousers. “Aw, she’d look so good with Guk. He’s what she needs, you know?”

Yoongi nods reluctantly, “That’s what he said, too.”

As Yoongi continues carefully cutting two slices, you bound towards the barrels lined up outside the entryway to the Hufflepuff Common Room, tapping the passcode while Yoongi remains otherwise occupied. Once he’s finished, he peers over his shoulder as you stand by the entryway, muttering to a Hufflepuff who always sits by the door on an evening to stop people from entering, because one loud-mouth once told a Ravenclaw how to get in, who told someone else, who told the entire school. 

Yoongi can feel his eyes softening, and he probably figures there’s sparkles in them as he watches you; it’s like his whole body has turned into a soft mush, and his heart physically hurts watching you giggle with the other Hufflepuff, gesturing back towards Yoongi with your thumb and meeting his smile with teeth and crescent mooned eyes.

Yoongi’s definitely not in love - there’s not enough here and there for that to be realistically possible. All he knows is that he’s fond of you. Fond doesn’t even cut it. There’s something about you that makes him feel safe, and accepted, and comfortable, and when you call him over with the all clear, he very nearly drops the plate into twenty pieces as he steps towards you. God, his heart is in his throat and his hands are kind of shaking- in the orange glow of the candlelight surrounding the kitchens, Yoongi thinks you look the most beautiful. He almost can’t breathe.

The Hufflepuff Common Room is both everything and nothing like what he expected. When he steps inside, the room feels huge, and almost circular, with a humongous fire that roars forever and a circular carpet just in front of it, and on top of that, a large Chest acting as a coffee table and three large, worn suede sofas. The room feels homely- not like his home, decorated with modern decor, but like a home he’d expect to see on telly, with natural colours and plants that hang from random items around the room, a big painting of mountains above the fire and a clock that seems stuck on midnight. He smells tea and honey, spotting a makeshift kitchen set up by two early-bird students who stare at him owlishly as he enters, one hand glued to yours.

He almost jumps when the coffee table Chest springs open and three giggling Hufflepuff’s step out; he vaguely remembers someone saying that Newt Scamander had one of those, a chest that opens into a whole other world. Then, he also recalls the time you told him about this, under the full moon and ocean of stars, on top of the astronomy tower. 

(“We’ve got a bar down there. It opens into a bar when you enter, and there’s an outdoor area with a park and a pond and a canopy, and there’s a hammock, too! I remember Cedric Diggory- remember him?- I remember him taking Cho Chang on that hammock. The hammock broke, you already know what happened there.”) ((Yoongi now wants to go into the Chest.))

Instead, you tug him towards the sixth-year Hufflepuff bedrooms, where you swing the door open without a care of the other sleeping students. Yoongi actually flinches for you, and pauses upon entry when he realises that half the beds are bloody empty, save the one girl snoring loudly with earphones in in the corner, facing the wall decorated with postcards and a newspaper cutting of Harry Potter, which Yoongi personally finds quite creepy.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say with a sigh, kicking off your shoes to bounce on your bed. Yoongi almost feels jealous, because these beds definitely look bigger than the ones in Slytherin.

“How come we never came back here?” he wonders aloud.

You shrug, taking the cake off him as he kicks off his shoes and climbs next to you. The bed squeaks slightly and you flush, for whatever reason Yoongi already kind of knows, and when he’s settled, you cuddle in between his legs, taking a fork from his pocket and picking at one of the slices.

“I thought you were embarrassed of me,” you confess quietly.

“What...why would I be embarrassed of you?” Yoongi asks. Expectantly, he stares at you until you look over at him through a mouthful of cake. “Y/N…”

“I don’t know, okay?” you surrender. “Probably house anxiety, or whatever.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I know what people say about Hermione and Draco behind their backs,” you reluctantly say, shuffling to face him. “I didn’t want that. I know you didn’t either. And every time we’d meet, it would be in some place secretive. I don’t know, I just thought...that you didn’t really wanna be seen with me, or whatever. It’s stupid.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he puts down the plate and fork and gently turns your head towards him with his hands, a frown on his face and between his eyebrows. “Baby…”

“And it’s okay,” you reassure quickly with a smile. “It’s really okay. It’s a big step! It’s a big thing. I don’t mind the secretiveness...makes life more exciting, you know?”

“Mhm, I know.”

“And I like you a lot, Yoongi,” you murmur, and when he smiles widely, you groan, “but I like being secretive right now. It’s fun running around and hiding in classrooms. And it was so much fun having sex in Snape’s supply cupboard while he was interrogating Harry Potter in the corridor.”

“Oh, wow, I’d forgotten about that one.”

The clock on the wall ticks to 2am when you shuffle further into Yoongi’s body, wondering if you can get any closer. With a groan, Yoongi forces more cake into his mouth, laughing around a chunk when you giggle at his face, scrunched up with fake pain.

“Oi! You’re getting crumbs all over my bed,” you mutter, wiping away a little pile of crumbs onto the floor. Yoongi shrugs, putting the plate on the bedside table and rolling over, pulling you into his arms with his cheek squished against your head. “Oh my God. This is our first cuddling session- hold on, wait, I need photographic evidence of this exact moment-”

“Ugh, can’t you just relax for two seconds?” Yoongi complains, holding you in place. “You can just take it tomorrow, or whatever.”

“You’re staying?”

Yoongi looks down at you. “I’ve been sexiled, Y/N, I can’t just go back to my room and listen to Jeongguk and Pansy all night.”

“And so instead, you have come to annoy little old me. I see, I see, it’s okay.”

(Yoongi lets you complain playfully for a little while until you fall asleep on his bicep, and he takes a little longer than expected to look at you, mapping out all your features and details before dragging the quilt covers over your body.)

“Hey, where’d you go last night?”

Jeongguk trails behind Yoongi as they walk into the Grand Hall together, stomachs growling for a breakfast. As he walks towards the Slytherin table towards the far right of the hall, he takes a glance at the Hufflepuff table and his heart jumps when he sees your bed of messy hair, facing a girl opposite you with panda eyes. He tears his gaze away before anybody can notice him looking.

“I thought you’d sleep on the couch, or something,” Jeongguk shrugs.

“The couch is too close to your sperm sharing session,” Yoongi replies, and Jeongguk grimaces visibly and stacks bacon onto his plate. “Speaking of...everything go okay?”

Jeongguk’s face twists into pure affection: “Yoongi, it was amazing. Really. God, I feel so bad for her- Malfoy really was a dick, and never gave her any attention. All I had to do was tell her she was doing well and everything changed. She’s so nice, Yoongi. I think I like her. A lot.”

Yoongi nods, genuinely listening. “That’s good.”

“And, seriously, she was so good,” Jeongguk continues, and now Yoongi switches off slightly, grabbing a pancake from a plate. He only half listens to Jeongguk spill the details of how Pansy does something with her tongue that no other girl or guy has done for him, and thankfully shuts up with Pansy slips next to him on the bench and leans into his side, her hair in little space buns, freckles on display. Yoongi’s never seen those before. He looks at her with a knowing stare and she wriggles with discomfort, a smile eventually replacing the frown on her small and slightly red lips.

“Please,” she sighs, “stop telling him about your sex life. Your sex life is now also my sex life, and I’d rather nobody knew.”

Yoongi scoffs loudly. “It’s okay. We can share sex lives, if you wanna.”

“If I knew any better,” Seokjin pipes up from further down the bench, “I’d think you’ve never touched anybody before, Yoongi. Have you ever been with anybody in your six years of being here?”

“For your information, Virgin Mary, I have.”

Jeongguk twists with shock. “Really? I thought you hated all the Slytherin girls.” He turns to Pansy: “not you, baby.”

“And who said it was a Slytherin who has me tied down?” Yoongi snaps back, shoving in a piece of pancake.

Everybody around Yoongi pauses, not really knowing what to say to that. Draco Malfoy looks up with a sneer when he hears, sipping his tea and calling down to Yoongi. He almost doesn’t believe that, he says. It feels nice knowing that people follow in his footsteps.

Yoongi gives Draco one dirty look. “Unlike you, I respect my other-house girlfriend and take care of her. We have a long history of loving sex, instead of a long history of mental abuse and bullying. Now, sit back down and eat your fucking waffles, Malfoy, I’m not in the mood to hear you try and convince me that you think Granger is any different to what Parkinson was. You wouldn’t know how to treat a girl properly if someone wrote the steps on your big ass forehead.”

Yeah, nobody really says anything after that, and the Hall falls into a silence for a short twenty seconds. The only noise seems to be the quiet sniggers of a Hufflepuff girl behind Yoongi, who Jeongguk notices moving with giggles. He looks at her and then back at Yoongi, doing the Math when Yoongi smiles to himself at the sound and grins into his pancakes.

(“So... who is the Hufflepuff girl you’re dating?”

Yoongi sighs. “We’re not dating. I just said that to shut up Malfoy.”

“So, you’re fucking a Hufflepuff.”

“Actually, I like to call it we’re-dating-but-it’s-way-too-exciting-to-fuck-in-Snape’s-office-and-labels-are-so-last-year.”

“...You’ve screwed her in Snape’s office? Man, you’ve got balls.”)

((“Wait. You’re screwing Y/N L/N?”

“Correction, I am screwing Y/N L/N with my whole heart inside Snape’s office.”

Jeongguk shudders and when Pansy lifts her head up out of his shoulder, she squints in Yoongi’s direction and yawns: “wait, the one who makes brownies in the kitchens?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replies. “And what about it?”

Pansy shakes her head, thinking about it. She lies back down on Jeongguk’s shoulder with a little smile, “She told me that once. I thought she might be joking, but looking back on it, she really talked about you as if she was talking about the stars.”

Yoongi thinks about that for a minute.))

(((“Dude, I think Snape knows.”

Yoongi glances at Jeongguk in potions, stirring the purple liquid. “Knows what? That we fucking suck at potions? Yeah, no shit.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak and pauses when Snape briskly passes their table, sending a curt glare in their direction and then turning to another table. Across from where the duo are standing, you sneak a glance up from your cauldron, half-heartedly pouring in the next vial of liquid.

“No,” Jeongguk replies, “I think he knows that someone had sex in his office. Heard him complaining about it to Dumbledore after breakfast.”

Yoongi flushes. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The words “little shits” were used,” Jeongguk nodded. “You’re on his hit list.”

Yoongi doesn’t quite believe Jeongguk until Snape not-so-accidentally bashes into Yoongi from behind, sending the contents of his cauldron all over the table, soaking not only his own robes and books but also yours. Snape only shrugs his shoulders and forces out a, “You should watch what you are doing,”, taking five seconds to say each word, before deducting fifteen points from Slytherin.)))

[goldingoldout8]

Parasite

A friend said this movie won an award or something for its political messages so I watched it today. It came out in late 2019. The trailer is intriguing as hell.

The movie moves quickly and it never lulls. I was always wondering what would happen next. I’m not sure if the movie is supposed to be funny, and it never made me laugh, but it is funny in a strange way. It falls just short of being a thriller comedy.

SPOILERS AHEAD The story begins with my introduction to the main character’s family. The son is the main character but the whole family plays a prominent role. Mom, dad, son and daughter live in this underground shit hole where homeless people like to pee on the front porch. Our wi-fi stealing family sits on the floor while they fold cardboard pizza boxes together for a tiny bit of money. A man fumigates the street above and the father instructs the family to leave the window open so the fumes will kill the bug infestation in their house. They cough through the fumes as they continue to fold boxes.

It’s hard for me to imagine that this isn’t supposed to be a little funny. This family of four able-bodied adults somehow can’t find better work than folding pizza boxes and can’t afford to eat more than a piece of bread for breakfast? The poverty is exaggerated beyond believable. But I’m happy to suspend disbelief for a good story. The purpose of the exaggeration becomes clear later on. It’s meant to create a stark contrast between the poor and the rich. This is a story about class.

The son is hopeful, driven to improve his station in life and that of his family. His rich college friend visits to give him a lucky rock and a job. The friend has been tutoring a 16 year old girl. He makes it clear that the job is less about tutoring and more about keeping other guys away from his unwitting crush until he returns. After some lying and forgery regarding his qualifications, the main character begins tutoring the girl in her home. The girl’s family are multi-millionaires. They live in a designer house. The dad spends most of his time away for work while the mom stays at home. She uses the family’s money to hire housekeepers, tutors, drivers, caterers and more. 

The girl’s little brother is a highly creative and eccentric boy whose every whim is entertained by the doting mother and dutiful housekeeper. The girl knows her brother is pretending for the attention.

While the main character is tutoring the girl, they kiss and develop a secret relationship.

So the main character agreed to keep guys away from his friend’s crush, which is a pretty sketchy thing to agree to in the first place. And then he betrayed his friend and pursued her anyway. After learning about the artistic boy, the main guy recommends an art tutor. The art tutor happens to be his sister, the same person who helped him forge his credentials. The sister gets hired and now 2 members of the main poor family are working for the rich family. You might see where this is going.

The poor dad gets hired as the new driver. The poor mom gets hired as the new housekeeper. They’re all using fake names and credentials. Each member of the poor family has access to different bits of intimate knowledge about the rich family and its household employees, and uses that information to sabotage the jobs of the previous employees in order to create a job opening for another member of the family. The poor family then collaborate at home about how to continue manipulating and lying to the rich family for economic gain.

The rich family is not overtly portrayed as evil, just oblivious. The dad is hardworking and mildly neglectful. The mom is good-natured and easily misled. The story seems to imply that the rich family is unfairly privileged by juxtaposing the ridiculously horrendous conditions of the poor family against the carefree conditions of the rich family. Which seems to justify the predatory behavior of the poor family.

This theme is explicated by the poor mom. She tells her family that rich people are only kind because they’re rich. And that if she was rich she would be kind too. 

It turns out the original housekeeper was also impoverished, and keeping her husband hidden and fed in a secret basement under the rich family’s house. After being fired she returns to feed him and a fight breaks out.

The poor family’s resentment for the rich family culminates in a very bloody birthday party for the eccentric little boy and his rich family.

Very interesting and entertaining movie. And Marxist propaganda. I love this kind of sociological storytelling. We get to see how society’s incentives produce the behaviors of the characters. And that shines a light on the moral inconsistencies in myself and the audience. No matter which family I think are the good or bad guys, neither of them come out completely clean or completely unsympathetic. Or they shouldn’t.

The problem is that they do. The poor family are utterly unsympathetic sociopaths who terrorize the rich family for the crime of being rich. I’m supposed to assume that the poor family are only poor because they’re oppressed by a corrupt society, but considering their behavior it seems obvious to me that their poorness is entirely earned.

People who think it’s okay to lie, cheat, and sabotage the lives of hard-working people in order to climb the ladder are exactly the kind of people who I would expect to be poor in a healthy society.

Likewise, the rich family is never suggested to have earned their wealth dishonestly or nefariously. They aren’t a perfect family but they’re reasonably kind, generous and hard-working. To place these families side-by-side as if it is remotely ambiguous which ones are the villains is a feat that can only be accomplished by a person who has a pathological hatred for the rich. Parasite is a fun watch but its message is nothing short of disturbing, especially in a political climate when freedom is in a struggle for its life against communist narratives like this. It’s no mystery to me why the socialist elites who run the academy awards like it so much. Snowpiercer is still this director’s best movie in my opinion.

[lordofbeingfly-blog]

Crowley x Aziraphale - Soldiers in Petticoats

SFW

Word Count: 1766

Can you tell I just skimmed the last third of Orlando? They’re early Suffragettes hey! Also, direction whom?

           Crowley looked out over the crowd of women before her. Some held signs, others merely folded their arms over their chests. All were surprisingly silent. One woman at the front looked nervous, wielding a sign exclaiming “Workers of the World Unite!” with a button from the Limerick Soviet Party pinned to her blouse. She had reason ample for being nervous in this crowd.

           The group had mainly gathered as a protest and vigil for the women who had died only a week ago in a horrible factory fire in New York. Many worried that the same thing would happen yet again to any of the textile producers in England, so many citing Marx, Dickens, and near history to plead their cases.

           Though Miss Crowley had no need to work in a factory, she had long been a supporter of such endeavors, not just showing up to wait for chaos to ensue. She knew much of the issues resulting in the subjugation of people were the result of absence of divine intervention or reasoning, and would, at times, provide the subtle nudge for humans to be able to stand up for themselves.

           The woman beside her put a hand on her arm, fingers shaking. Crowley looked down at the smaller woman. She also worse black, her simple straw hat strung with a few glass beads that reflected the light off of them.

           “They’ve called the patrol officers on us,” the woman said, her accent a thick Irish lilt.

           Miss Crowley’s sharp eyebrows sunk to meet her glasses. “Of course, they did. Blast.”

           The crowd had grown to the size of nearly three hundred at this point, clogging the London intersection so that traffic could not move properly, and the protesters would all be trapped in one place should the police come at them from several angles.

           The woman put her head down, praying quietly to a God Crowley doubted was listening.

           She patted the woman’s arm. “I have a plan.” She began marching toward a street where a carriage had blocked off the street. She absently rolled up a sleeve, concentrating on how it would be possible to move it without anyone noticing.

           A voice called out from the crowd, “Crowley? Is that you?”

           Crowley turned, not really knowing the voice, but recognizing it intimately.

           A short woman excused herself while pushing between two others, a head of blond hair popping between them, then rounded shoulders, and then the whole lady.

           Crowley looked at the woman over her glasses, the image of a stout man in a top hat throwing a piece of paper into a duck pond immediately coming to mind.

           “Aziraphale??” Crowley grinned. “What the bloody hell are you doing here!?”

           Aziraphale’s eyes looked incredibly tired when she smiled. She lifted a massive stack of propaganda flyers that were clutched to her chest. “Just spreading awareness. Discord. Cady-Standen. You know how it is, dear.”

           “Political leftist is a good look for you, angel.”

           Aziraphale blushed and looked at her boots. Boots that were covered with mud, her hem was also dusty and dirty. In fact, the only part of her that had no dirt or soot was that pristine blue sash she wore to hide she had on only a Reform brassiere rather than a corset. Crowley was impressed.

           “How long have you been awake? And out here?”, Crowley asked, fussing just enough to notice Aziraphale give her a subtle pout.

           “I’m still mad at you, you know,” she said, turning up her nose slightly.

           Crowley turned at the sound of police kazoos and bells being wrung several blocks away, the noise causing a first wave of panic through the crowd.

           “Mad enough you wouldn’t help me get these people out of here?”, Crowley asked, turning back to the carriage, now abandoned by the owners and driver.

           Aziraphale frowned, raising a pale eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

           Crowley nodded to the carriage. “We make a barricade once everyone splits and distract the bobbies.”

           “Oh, Crowley that’s not a good idea,” Aziraphale said, worrying at the button on her blouse.

           “Well, tell me a better idea. A single. Better idea,” Crowley huffed, checking the crowd to see everyone was watching the police coming from one direction. Good. They would follow the majority of people right to where they would be barred from following.

           Aziraphale put her flyers on the front of the carriage. “I don’t have a better idea, temptress.”

           Crowley rolled her eyes. “No need to be catty.”

           “I take exception to that statement.”

           “You would. Help me push.” Crowley put her hands against the back of the carriage, and Aziraphale pushed her back against the back. “Now push!”

           The carriage moved quickly with their joined strength; Crowley hoped quick enough for no one to notice.

           Aziraphale stood atop the luggage hold and cupped her hands around her mouth. Her reedy voice rose above the crowd, calling for everyone to run where the carriage had just been. Crowley gave a hand to help her down, keeping a grip on it as the crowd flushed between the two warehouse buildings down the street.

           She looked down at the smaller woman with a small smile. “I’m glad for your help again, angel.”  Aziraphale’s eyebrows drew together a moment as she saw the police coming closer, throwing clubs and fists at the fleeing crowd.

           She frowned and gave a curt nod. “Yes, I’m glad to have you, too, Crowley.” She snapped her fingers and the carriage rolled back into the street, producing a blockade to give the protesters more time.

           “Show time.” Miss Crowley put on a smile, sauntering over the group of police before them. It was only about ten, a handful of others had run down other streets and alleys, but they were nothing compared to the remnants of the crowd that remained to beat them back. She stepped between one patrolman and an older woman that held a parasol between her and the officer. “Now we really don’t need to do this. It is such a waste of your time. How about you just go back to your stations, and we will go on our way? Saavy?”

           “Crowley…” Aziraphale warned in a low voice, ringing her hands and putting herself between the officers and a group of the remaining protesters.

           The officer chuckled, merely lifting his riot club at Crowley.

           Crowley shrugged. “I suppose that would be a no.”

           She lowered her glasses and the officer’s face paled. Her eyes shifted like hellfire and the promise of an eternity therein. The officer made a pitiful squeak before falling to the ground with a thud, completely unconscious.

           “Everyone needs to get out of here,” Aziraphale said to the women around her, handing over the keys to her bookshop. “Take these and meet in the basement. I have cots and medicinal supplies there already. Take anyone hurt or being sought by police. Go!”

           The tallest woman of the group nodded. “Thank you, Miss Fell.”

           Aziraphale came to stand beside Crowley.

           “Just don’t… Don’t seriously injure any of them. It will only hurt their families.” She looked worriedly up at Crowley until she got a solemn nod. She could not tell if Crowley was sincere, but they moved forward, nonetheless.

           Crowley pulled her hat pin out, letting the black number drop to the ground as she swung the pin at the first officer to bare down on her. The piece of metal exploded into bubbles just before making contact with the man’s skin. The man fell to the ground at the mere contact of Crowley’s fist against his chest.

           “I said not to injure them!”, Aziraphale cried, miracling another officer into the fourth floor of a building down the block. She checked over her shoulder to see the street had cleared of everyone but the officers and the two divine beings. Distracted, she tripped on a dropped picket sign, falling hard onto the cobblestones.

           Crowley hurried to her side, pulling her up to her feet. Another dozen police officers were coming their way. “Time to go, angel.”

           “I agree,” Aziraphale said, still breathless. “No wings.”

           Crowley nodded. “No wings.”

           They sprinted down an alleyway the opposite direction of the exceptionally hostile bobbies.

           When they finally thought they had lost the officers, they hid themselves on a fire escape, both out of breath. Crowley sat upon the stairs while Aziraphale laid upon her back, chest heaving as she panted.

           “How many do you think got hurt?”, Crowley asked, looking out at the Thames.

           Aziraphale sat up, folding her hands in her lap before answering. “Not many, I hope.”

           She looked incredibly tired, her blouse torn, hair failing into her face, and she was missing the buttons off of one sleeve. Crowley thought she was incredibly beautiful, looking more alive fleeing from the police than Crowley had seen since they left Eden all those centuries ago.

           “Oh, Crowley, I worry so much for them. I’m meant to protect them from evil, but it seems I only intervene when it’s far too late.” She rubbed her face roughly, brushing strands of hair away from her face. She dearly hated confessing her anxieties, especially to Crowley. She was never meant to be vulnerable around the demon.

           “It does seem like my lot-,” Crowley started, with Aziraphale’s voice raising over her voice.

           “It’s not demons. It’s humans! For so long we’ve just watched, but now they are trying to change things. They want a better world and I’ve done nothing to help with that.” Aziraphale twisted the gold ring on her pinky, the skin around it had begun to turn pink from irritation.

           Crowley put out a hand to stop her. “Hey. Hey now. Just… Just look at me a moment?”

           Aziraphale looked from Crowley’s lean hand to her serpentine eyes.

           “None of this is on you. You understand? You are not the only angel, and you are not the only one that feels like it’s all your fault.” Crowley looked away at that. “Trust me.”

           Aziraphale sighed, fingers linking with Crowley’s.

           “If all this is ineffable, then it may be just as well we act within this world as humans to change the outcome of human-created problems,” Crowley reasoned, her thumb running over the back of Aziraphale’s much smaller hand.

           “Sometimes I think we were created too human for our own good,” Aziraphale murmured, almost to herself.

           Crowley’s heart ached for Aziraphale. “You may be right about that, angel.”

[simonalkenmayer]

Hello, Simon! You were around for the rise of technology, so I was wondering what your first encounter of it was like? Also, how did you find out about your aura's effect on tech?

Let’s see…I suppose that goes back to the printing press. I remember how suddenly there were things like “Fliers” when before there was nothing. One of its first uses was political or religious propaganda, which I suppose is amusing. Honestly I took no notice of it beyond finding it incredible that such a thing existed. Then they became more common and suddenly books were everywhere. When that happened I knew it was time to learn to read. I used to like hanging around the book publishers in London. One of them showed me the press he used and taught me how to typeset. It was bloody obnoxious. I remember thinking that it scarcely made the process worthwhile, but it did increase the yield many fold. So there’s that. 

Steam engines were next. I found no end to the marvels of those.

As for how I found out about my particular dysaffinity…that was something of an interesting pickle.

Some of you know I worked on the Transcontinental construction in the 1850′s and 60′s, but truth be told, it wasn’t just a railroad. At the same time that we laid track, another team was laying the first transcontinental communication device, the telegraph. The telegraph is an easy enough principle. You have a circuit, which in those days was done with a number of sets of wires. One to carry the signal in and one to carry it out. The dials on either side and the little paddle switches send the signal by completing the circuit. 

Let me see if I can draw you a picture

 The arrow on the left is one switch, the one on the right is another. At each switch sits an operator. The sending operator causes his switch to touch the dial, thus making the circle complete. One the opposite end, the receiver sees a dial swivel, or in later years, a light go on, or a tone sound out. In later years, they also figured out how to thin the circuits down to one wire, but when we were laying the stupid cable, it was pairs of wire.

The team would assemble the circuit in pieces. Obviously, they can check the circuits functioning wherever they like. All they have to do is connect a switch to it and tap. If they can receive a signal in reply, then the entire chain of wire is connected and the circuit is good. Then they disconnect the switch and lay the next few miles of wires and check again.

The trouble was, I could hear the signals. 

Took me a bloody dog’s age to figure it out. Well…perhaps no that long, but a good deal longer than you might think. It was a peculiar buzzing. I call it that, but really it isn’t even a sound. It’s a sensation in my skin, I suppose you could say. I’ve learned to quantify it since then and the only thing I can say is similar to it would be the human capacity to know when they’re being watched. Every time they’d check the circuit, I’d swivel around and think “What the bloody hell is that?” Every time I’d sense it, it would give me a sort of emotional tick. Finally, one day, they were doing a bit of maintenance and had the switch connected and dropped for some time and I finally pinpointed the sound to the circuit. This was when I knew that electricity was going to give me trouble. 

Now, it turned out to actually be a blessing. 

one of our chief difficulties and dangers on the long stretches of unpopulated ground was the natives. I cannot begrudge them their dislike for us. It made perfect sense to me, however, I was hired to do a job, and well…I wasn’t a nice person. I digress.

One of their principle means of harming us was to rip up what we had done or kill off our scouting teams. There were times when the telegraph teams were ahead of us, sometimes by miles, and while there were a few soldiers among them, they weren’t enough to defend. We had ample cause to be concerned for their safety. I could hear the signals being sent and received, and I could hear when the circuit wasn’t connected. 

It once worked to the advantage of the wire crew, as they had been sent out to check the wires. They were meant to have their work completed by a specific time, but the circuit wasn’t closed. I heard it close once, so I knew they’d arrived and begun work, but it never closed again after that. I thought it peculiar and went to the foreperson to explain that I had a bad feeling about it. He sent some armed men out and they managed to scare off the attack party that had besieged the telegraph workers. 

After that I would rotate on and off the Casement crew for laying track, and cycle in a few treks out with the operators, until the government saw fit to make a pact with another tribe for the protection of the train line. After that, those particular natives were like a security team, and traveled free up and down the rails to guard any place where we had manpower stationed–scout and assaying teams, levelers, telegraphers, ever cartographers and the photographer we had snapping pictures all the time.

But you know me. When the circuit connected I would always keep my head tipped that way, just to make certain it kept whispering. 

The first time I ever demonstrated any ability to influence an electric device was when the first lightbulbs went in around my city. They had a trick of a time keeping them lit wherever I was. Then i realized it was my fault. I was “listening” to the bulbs and mucking with it. I had to learn to let the sound just sit there and not actively engage with it in any fashion. Of course you know me, I had to experiment with it. Trouble was, in those days most lighting systems were daisy chains and if one bulb went out some poor asshole got sent along the circuit to find it and replace it. 

Had a bit of fun with that, I must say.

[mikotyzini]

What Defines Us - Ch. 23

One announcement today - White Rose Week starts next Sunday, June 10th!  If you’re interested in seeing more White Rose from the community (be honest - I know you are!), follow @white-rose-week for all the details.  I have a story I’ll be posting, so keep an eye out for that as well. :D

Oh, and here’s a link to the chapter on ff.net!  

“I DON’T CARE if his daughter’s getting married!” Weiss shouted into her scroll.  “I want him on the next flight to Vale!”

Without waiting for a response, she hung up the call with an angry jab of her finger into the device.  She already knew that she would get what she’d demanded.  The doctor would get on the flight because he had to - because her family owned the hospital where he was currently employed.  Unless, of course, he was willing to sacrifice his job...which very few people were willing to do.

The shouting had drawn more than a few curious looks from the nurses nearby, but she ignored the glances as she resumed pacing in the hall.

Stay calm, she reminded herself over and over again.  Take deep breaths and stay calm.  

It was going to be just fine.  It wasn’t a repeat of what happened last time.  It wasn’t.  It wouldn’t be - she wouldn’t, and couldn’t, let that happen again.  Which meant she needed to stay here - stay here.  She couldn’t leave.  She wouldn’t allow herself to leave.  She would keep pacing the hallways - the hallways of the very same hospital Ruby had been rushed to a little over a year ago.  

They were on a different floor, but the layout was identical.  The wallpaper was the same - the color scheme, the furniture, the nurses’ uniforms…the overwhelming familiarity put her nerves on edge.  This was where everything had gone wrong the last time - right here, in this very building.  This place marked the beginning of the end for her.

The attending doctor said he would find her as soon as they finished running some tests.  Until then, she was waiting right here, where he could easily find her.  She was not going to leave this building.  She was going to wait right here for the doctor, and for Yang and Blake to show up.

It would be a far simpler task if it didn’t feel like she was made of sand and the sun had just come out to dry her adhesiveness away.  The edges of her mind were fraying as doctors and nurses rushed this way and that - none of them bringing any news on how Ruby was doing or what was going on.  They were busy and preoccupied, but with tasks that had little relevance in Weiss’ life.

How long had she been waiting?  An hour? Two?  Shouldn’t there be some update by now?  

The longer she was forced to wait, the more critical she believed Ruby’s current situation was.  If it wasn’t serious, they should have an answer by now.  There was no reason for a simple issue to drag on this long.  

No, the only reason for them to delay was if they were running more tests.  And the only reason they would run more tests was if the first ones came back with reasons to worry.

Overcome by anxiety, she spun the newly-minted ring around her finger while pacing back and forth in front of the nurses’ station in the middle of the floor.  She’d already reminded them three times to give her an update as soon as they heard anything.  They’d promised to inform her the second they’d finished with whatever tests they were running.  If they were finished, they would have told her.  Unless they’d already forgotten. They hadn’t forgotten, had they?

“WEISS!”

Spinning away from the nurses’ station at the sound of her name, Weiss found Yang and Blake rushing out of the stairwell - still dressed in their combat attire.  Gambol Shroud, in particular, garnered quite a few concerned glances from the hospital staff, but the two girls didn’t notice as they hurried towards Weiss.  Blake’s brow was furrowed, but Yang was...

Yang was mad.  Not just a little angry or mildly irritated.  She was beyond boiling point furious.  

Alarm bells rang loudly in Weiss’ mind while her teammates approached.

She’d seen Yang this upset once before - and that was right before she’d practically broken Cardin’s face for leaving anti-Faunus propaganda all over Blake’s locker.  At the time, Weiss had thought to herself that that was a side of Yang she never wanted to see again, but here it was stomping over to her - steps heavy, eyes red, mouth set in something worse than a scowl.  

A wave of hot anger washed over Weiss before Yang even reached her - just the tip of the firestorm about to land.

“What the HELL did you do?!”

There was no opportunity for Weiss to respond before a powerful hand closed around her wrist and she was shoved roughly into the desk behind her - the edge digging into her back while she let out a startled cry of pain.  The vice grip on her wrist grew tighter and a surge of panic swept through her when she realized that she couldn’t move her arm without exposing herself to further harm.

Throughout years of training she’d suffered numerous injuries, but never had she been locked in a situation where she knew that if she moved a fraction of an inch her bone would snap like a toothpick.  

It was too late to realize she’d made the same mistake Cardin had.  She should have run as soon as Yang had stepped into the hallway.

“Yang -”

Blake’s voice had an edge of warning, but Yang didn’t heed it.

“Answer me!” she shouted in Weiss’ face instead.  “Where is she?  What did you do to her?!”  

When Weiss opened her mouth in an attempt to answer, she yelped again in pain as she was suddenly half-dragged, half-shoved into the empty room across the hall - her arm nearly breaking when Yang refused to let go.  No sooner was she inside did the door slam shut.

“Let go of her, Yang.”

This time Yang listened - shoving Weiss away as if disgusted by her, sending her stumbling backward in the process.  

After regaining her balance and a sliver of her composure, the last thing she wanted to do was give Yang the satisfaction of checking her wrist to make sure it was still in one piece.  Instead, she rubbed at the tender skin with her fingertips - searching for bumps or bruises while Yang glowered at her from across the small hospital room.

“If you two are finally going to argue, do it in here and not in the middle of the hallway,” Blake said, folding her arms across her chest and silently daring them to try to leave.

“What.  Happened,” Yang demanded without even looking at Blake, her teeth gritting together in anger.

“We were just spending time together,” Weiss answered in her defense.  “Talking -”

Briefly pausing, she remembered that she’d nearly told Ruby about their past.  She’d nearly told Ruby that they were partners.  Shaking her head, she continued her explanation while omitting that particular detail.

“We were talking.  She seemed fine, but suddenly she said she didn’t feel good.  Then...then she passed out.”  Reliving that moment of panic, Weiss took a quick pause and deep breath before continuing.  “I immediately called for help, and they came to get her right away.  They brought her here, and now they’re running tests.”

While Weiss recounted the story, Yang grew more and more agitated, pacing back and forth with her hands clenched into tight fists.

“I knew it.  I knew something like this would happen!”  Yang spun back to Weiss, her red eyes flashing with rage.  “I knew having you around would do something like this to her.”

At first, Weiss didn’t even know how to respond to the unexpected accusation, except to be completely taken aback.  But that shock quickly morphed into unbridled indignation that raced through her veins and set her thoughts ablaze.  

She was exhausted.  She was scared out of her mind for Ruby’s well-being.  And, for once, she’d had enough of being blamed for everything.  It was one thing when she blamed herself - it was another when someone else tried to do that for her.  

How was this within her control?  How was she supposed to foresee this happening?  Did Yang honestly believe Weiss would stand idly by while Ruby was ill?  Did Yang honestly believe that Weiss would willingly allow any harm or injury to happen to Ruby?

Enough was enough.

“Somehow I did this to her?” she retorted, placing one hand on her chest in feigned courtesy.  Yang nodded her head vigorously, still stalking back and forth in front of Weiss like a lion in a cage waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

“She was doing just fine until you came prancing back into her life.  And now - surprise surprise - look where we are.  Again.”

“How dare you blame this on me!” Weiss shouted back, clenching her fists as anger and frustration swept through her.  “This is not my fault!”

Whirling around, Yang jabbed one finger into Weiss’ chest - pushing her a half-step backward and adding fuel to her fire.

“First, you want to help her get better,” Yang said through gritted teeth.  “Then, you split when she needed you most.  And now you put her back in the hospital.  What’s the one thing all of this has in common?”

“I’m not the one who let her go on a hunt again,” Weiss snarled in defiance, her voice rising in anger.  “I’m not the one who let her train to become the one thing that almost killed her the first time.  You want to talk about responsibility, Yang?  Why don’t you take some!  You’re the one who gave Crescent Rose back to her!”

“You have no idea what it was like, Weiss!” Yang yelled while taking one threatening step forward.  Blake’s hand appeared on Yang’s shoulder immediately, temporarily quelling the shouts as Yang’s chest rose and fell with deep, furious breaths.  

While Yang glared, her fists tightly clenched, the thought crossed Weiss’ mind that Yang might actually hit her - Yang might actually deck her in the face in the middle of the hospital.

And Weiss honestly couldn’t give a damn.  Let Yang try it.  Just let her try.  After all the subtle swipes she’d taken at Weiss over the past few days, it would be nice for her to drop the fake niceties and do what she actually wanted to do.  

Or at least try - because there was no way in hell Weiss was going to just stand here and let Yang hit her.

“At least I made sure her bills were taken care of...” she muttered under her breath.  She knew it would only stoke the flames, but right now she didn’t care.  She was angry - at Yang, at herself, at everything that had gone wrong in the past year and her role in it.

“Oh gee, thanks,” Yang replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Princess Schnee here to save the day with her freaking wallet.  We didn’t need your money, Weiss, we needed you! We needed you here to help - don’t you get that?”

Again, when Yang’s voice grew too loud, Blake gently calmed her down with a squeeze of her shoulder.

“You weren’t here when she had nothing, Weiss,” Blake added softly - somehow, the quiet words hurting far more than Yang’s verbal uppercuts did.  “You weren’t here when she was lonely and...lost. You didn’t see how Crescent Rose changed her life - how training to become a huntress gave her purpose.”

“You don’t get to stomp back in here and pretend you know jack about what it was like,” Yang snapped.  “You weren’t here when she was in so much pain she couldn’t sleep.  Or when the meds the doctors gave her for the pain made her nauseous.  Or when she cried because she didn’t know who she was. That wasn’t you, Weiss.  That was us.”

The imagery was so sad that it threatened to destroy the rage and frustration Weiss had been fueled by.  Tears stung her eyes - ready to spill over at any moment - while giant cracks appeared in her flimsy armor.  She did everything in her power to hold on to that last thread of anger...because if she let go she was giving way to sadness - pure and utter sadness.

But when she opened her mouth to respond, no words came out.  

How could she possibly answer with anything other than yes?  Yes, she should have been here to help.  Yes, she was wrong.  Yes, she was a coward.  Yes, she was the one at fault.  

Saying anything else was a lie.

Yang took Weiss’ silence as confirmation of something as yet unsaid, and she let out a disdainful scoff.

“Of course you don’t get it,” she said derisively, the tone more malicious than her shouts had been.  “How could you? You’re too wrapped up in your own problems to care about what happens around you. Well, here - why don’t I explain it to you.  While you were off galavanting in Atlas, avoiding your responsibilities, Ruby was missing you.  Sure, she might not remember, but she could feel that something, someone, was missing - something Blake and I could never replace.  That’s why she still won’t take that damn ring off.”

“Yang…” Blake warned, putting her hand on Yang’s shoulder only for Yang to shrug it off and step forward.  Her red eyes looked directly into Weiss’ - as if she could see right through the facade Weiss had been hiding behind all this time.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Weiss,” Yang concluded, the words sharp and true.  “You haven’t since that Death Stalker got the drop on you.  And, from the look of it, you should really figure that out before trying to fix Ruby’s life.”

Yang was right.  She was absolutely right.  But why did it make Weiss so angry to hear those words of truth?

“I’m fine,” she snarled at the insinuation that she was anything but, grasping onto the vanishing belief that she could overcome anything by herself.

“Yeah?” Yang retorted, her voice rising again in anger.  “If you’re ‘fine,’ why do you need to summon two freaking soldiers to kill one Death Stalker?  If you’re ‘fine,’ why does your sister have to send Velvet and Coco into the middle of the forest to save your ass?”

“Yang.”

“What are you even doing here, anyway?” Yang continued as if she hadn’t heard the warning, folding her arms across her chest while she needled Weiss where she knew it would hurt the most.  “Shouldn’t you be halfway to Atlas already?  I mean, we both know that you can’t deal with being here for Ruby when she needs you.  Why aren’t you already gone?  Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if you got it over with and left already?”

“Yang.  That’s enough.”

“Why are you always sticking up for her??” Yang demanded, shrugging off Blake’s hand once again.  “You know what Ruby went through!  You know how hard it was - why are you always on her side?”

“I’m not -”

“Yes, you are!” Yang interrupted.  “It’s always ‘Weiss this’ and ‘Weiss that.’  You know what she did.  How can you just forgive her?”

“Because I was her.”

“You were never -”

“I left you, Yang!” Blake cried out, her voice cracking with tears as she said the words.  “You were hurt, and I left you.  So yes, I am the same.  I know how it feels to make that horrible mistake and regret it.  Don’t you get it?  Weiss and I are the same - how can you be so angry at her and not me?”

Frozen by the question, Yang’s eyes never left Blake as a stunned silence settled over the small room.  Yang hadn’t expected to be battling both of them on this - especially not Blake, whose ears were now flattened in unconcealed anguish.

Weiss’ heart was racing with adrenaline, while her hands shook with something bordering on panic and fear.  She’d never imagined that Blake and Yang would know about Coco and Velvet...although she should’ve expected the duo to inform someone after how they’d found her.  And she’d had no idea that Winter had sent the pair after her in the forest.  She’d thought it was a coincidence, but that was her mistake.  A coincidence in an area that large was hardly more than a shot in the dark.

It was remarkable how - even as she attempted to isolate herself from anyone involved in her past - they’d all remained connected to her life.  Winter, finding Weiss missing yet again, called the nearest huntsmen to find her.  After rescuing Weiss, Coco and Velvet informed her old teammates of her current status.  

The idea that everyone was fully aware of exactly when she hit rock bottom wasn’t exactly comforting, but there was very little she could do about it now.  It was nothing more than yet another low moment in a year full of them.  

The emotionally-charged impasse ended when Blake reached out and gently picked up Yang’s hand, giving it a small squeeze to go along with a hopeful smile.

“You forgave me…” Blake whispered.  “And Ruby forgave me, too.”

“Of...course…” Yang replied haltingly, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t understand how Blake could even question that outcome.  “But…”

When Yang’s eyes flicked across the room, Weiss understood what her teammate wanted to say next.  

But Weiss was different.  What she’d done was truly horrible, and she didn’t deserve forgiveness, not like Blake did.  She should be punished for her mistakes - that’s what she deserved.

But Yang didn’t say it.  Instead, her brow creased even further, like she was also wondering why she couldn’t say it.  

Swallowing her anger, Weiss decided that maybe this was her fault, and she just couldn’t see it yet.  Or maybe this was no one’s fault at all.  

“You don’t think I paid for it?” she asked softly, physically exhausted from the yelling and fighting.  “You don’t think I regretted it every...single...day?”  Raising one hand to her nose, she found her fingers trembling madly while her words came out breathless and staccato.

Every day she’d lived in regret.  Every day she’d shouldered the weight of emotions - the crushing guilt, the ceaseless pain, the unrelenting loss.  There wasn’t a single moment of respite.  Not a single moment of sunshine.  Every day she continued to breathe, she’d paid for her mistakes.  She’d suffered - she’d made sure of that.

Taking a deep breath, she clenched one fist to steel herself for the words she should’ve said long ago.

“I can’t undo the past.  Believe me; I wish I could,” she said, making sure to look Yang directly in the eyes.  “I can’t take back what I did...but I sure as hell can try to make up for it.”

The only way forward was...forward.  No more running, no more hiding.  She would earn her forgiveness the hard way - by proving herself every single day.

Blake nodded in acceptance of the words, but Yang’s response was to stare back.  For once, she looked at a complete loss for what she should say or do next.  Her eyes faded to lilac and she stared - struggling to comprehend what had just transpired between them.

Two quick knocks drew their attention towards the door of the empty hospital room, where a slender doctor poked his head in to find them.

“I hope I’m not interrupting...”

“No, please come in,” Yang said, raising one hand to rub the bridge of her nose before letting out a big sigh.

“I wanted to let you know that you can see Miss Rose now.  We’ve finished our tests - she’s going to be just fine.”

The positive news lifted an incredible weight off of Weiss’ chest, while the tension in the air cut in half.  As long as Ruby was going to be alright, the rest of them could continue to sort out their issues.  But Ruby was the glue - she always had been.

“What happened?” Blake asked, glancing at Yang to gauge her reaction to the question, but Yang’s eyes were fixated on the man while waiting for a response.

“There was a small amount of scar tissue that accumulated around the site of the injury,” he explained rapidly.  “Our brains can swell and contract for many different reasons -  weather, stress, excitement - and, for whatever the reason, her brain swelled slightly, pressed against the accumulation, and she briefly blacked out.”

“But we were here several times, and you were always looking for scar tissue...” Blake commented, her eyes narrowing as she caught on to something.

The subtle way he clasped his hands in front of his white coat looked too much like wringing them together - it was almost an admission of guilt.

“Despite our best efforts, sometimes the buildup can be too minimal to appear on normal scans.”

Blake and Yang shared a look at the response, while a growing amount of discontent replaced Weiss' concern.

“Can you fix it?” Yang asked, her level tone making it impossible to tell if she was irritated or not.

“Yes.  We already removed it with a small laser and will send her home with medication to break up the rest.”  Smiling, he seemed far too happy that he was able to give them a solution to a problem he had most likely allowed to occur.  “With a little rest, she’ll be feeling perfect in a few days.”

Slightly frowning, Yang nodded once at the answer.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Blake replied in Yang’s place before the man bowed and scurried out of the room.  

Silence hung in the air while the three of them digested the information they’d received.

Scar tissue?  They’d rushed to the hospital due to some lingering scar tissue that should’ve been remedied months ago?  Weiss nearly had a heart attack over a minor medical emergency that should’ve never happened?

“I’m going to sue him for every Lien he has,” she seethed, stalking towards the door while her heart still pounded with adrenaline.  Not only was this something that should’ve been checked and double checked, but it had unnecessarily sent Ruby back to the hospital. And it had also brought Weiss back to one of the places she feared most.  The most aggravating part was that this entire episode was avoidable if some doctor or nurse had paid more attention to the scans or taken the time to run a more extensive one.

But Weiss’ anger only made Yang sigh while she opened the door to exit first.

“Relax, Weiss.  They fixed it; she’s fine.  Everyone makes mistakes.  At least it wasn’t life-threatening.”

The comment probably wasn’t meant to be a dig at her past, but Weiss immediately backed down and canceled her plans to ruin the man’s life.  It would be a lot of work...and she was just as exhausted as Yang sounded, mentally worn down by the outflow of emotions they’d just gone through.

Trailing Yang into the hallway, Weiss felt her hands trembling as the rush of heightened emotions trickled out of her system.  Their prior altercation put on hold, she could focus on what was most important - that Ruby was going to be fine.  And Yang was right - people made mistakes.  At least no one had been seriously hurt from this one, which was more than Weiss could say about her own missteps…

Blake walked beside Weiss in the hall - both of them at a distance from Yang, but only one of them doing it by choice.  After asking a nearby nurse for directions, Yang headed towards the other end of the hall without even a glance to see if they were following.  

But follow they did, with Blake’s ears flattened in subtle distress over her separation from Yang’s side.  If Weiss’ heart wasn’t climbing into her throat with each step, she’d try to reassure Blake that everything would be alright.  Instead, she was trying to prevent a new set of worries from spiraling out of control.

Maybe it was only a minor issue, but Ruby had passed out for a period of time that was alarming for any healthy person.  With her history of head injuries, what might’ve happened to her mind during those short moments? Had everything remained...intact?

Defensive, beaten down, and extremely, extremely fragile, Weiss found it difficult to summon the wherewithal, even internally, to voice her true concerns.

But...what if Ruby didn’t remember her again?  What if all was lost, once more?  What would she do then?  Would she make Yang’s words true and run again?

The hallway, which had once seemed quite long, disappeared under their feet as they headed to Ruby’s room.  Slowing to a stop at the private hospital room located two doors from the end of the hall, Weiss only caught a glimpse of Ruby through the window before Yang opened the door.

“Hey there, superstar!” Yang called out while walking inside.  From her tone, it was impossible to tell that she’d just been so angry, but that was Yang - able to flip back to happiness in a heartbeat to cheer someone up.  Everyone else, especially Ruby, always came first in Yang’s book.  It was a level of self-sacrifice few would notice, and even fewer would ever truly understand.

Even though Weiss had every intention of following Yang into the room, her feet rooted themselves to the ground outside the door and remained stubbornly in place.  Not expecting Weiss to stop so suddenly, Blake accidentally bumped into her from behind.

“Come on, Weiss,” Blake whispered, prodding Weiss forward.  But she wouldn’t move.  Her muscles had frozen as uncertainty, and dread quickly ate through her willpower and left her undecided.

“But what if -” she began to ask, unable to finish the fearful question out loud.

“Then I’ll tell her you’re my sister,” Blake joked before placing her hand on Weiss’ back and gently pushing forward.  Stepping through the doorway with wooden legs, Weiss felt her pulse steadily accelerating - climbing and climbing while she absorbed in the scene in front of her.

It was a hospital room, just like the hospital room - the one where Weiss spent countless hours of her time while waiting for Ruby to wake up.  The machines looked the same...intimidating and scary to the uninformed.  The window looked the same, although the windowsill was devoid of flowers and get well wishes.  

But there was one big difference between this room and the room Weiss remembered - Ruby was awake.

Sitting up in the hospital bed, Ruby looked...perfectly fine - alert and cheerful regardless of the circumstances.  Even so, Weiss approached cautiously, internally dreading the moment silver eyes might find her and slide right past without a flicker in recognition.

But when Ruby’s eyes landed on Weiss, it wasn’t lack of recognition which lit her face - but rather a giant smile of jubilation.  And...suddenly everything seemed so much lighter.  It became a foregone conclusion that Weiss would walk further into the room - wanting to be closer to Ruby.  And it was one of the easiest decisions Weiss had ever made to sit in the chair right by Ruby’s side.

“Jeez, Ruby, trying to give us a scare,” Yang was saying, perched on the edge of the hospital bed.  When Blake sat in the seat next to Weiss, Yang shot a glance towards her before looking away.  “Maybe next time you could give us a little warning before your brain tries to kamikaze itself?”

Ruby giggled at her sister’s light-hearted teasing and didn’t complain when Yang reached out and ruffled short brunette hair into an adorable mess.

“You didn’t abandon the hunt, did you?” Ruby asked in return, her eyes filled with worry at the prospect.

“Naw - we were already on the way back when Weiss called,” Yang explained, refusing to look at Weiss even while saying her name.  “We had the airship drop us off on the roof.”

“They’ll do that??”

“If you threaten them enough they will,” Yang responded with a chuckle, running one hand through her hair with a little more nonchalance than most people would be comfortable with.  Her little sister, however, was not at all disturbed by the disclosure of threatened violence.

“So you got him?” Ruby asked instead.

“Did we?” Yang replied with a huff, which only made Ruby look back and forth between Blake and Yang while waiting expectantly for the answer.  “Yeah, yeah we did,” Yang finished, reaching out to give her sister a high five when Ruby raised one hand.

“One less hugger in the world!” Ruby cheered, sending Weiss a quick thumbs up and goofy grin.

“You know it!  And damn that was an appropriate nickname.  Although his hugs were not at all nice.”  Her eyes temporarily shifting out of the room and back to the forest, it was only a second before Yang shrugged off the memory and smiled.  “Then we rushed back here to see you!”

“Sorry…” Ruby mumbled, picking at the blanket lying unused by the side of the bed.

“Don’t be sorry, Ruby,” Yang said while tapping her sister on the shoulder.  “Could use some excitement around here every once in a while!  Things were getting a little boring.”  When Ruby giggled, Yang leaned forward and looked her sister directly in the eyes.  “But how are you feeling?”

“Like a ten!”

“Like a ten??  On a scale of one to five, you feel like a ten?”  Reaching over, Yang tapped the empty IV beside the bed.  “What’re they giving you?”

“Yannggg,” Ruby whined, making her sister laugh.

“Ok ok,” Yang finally said before letting out a relieved sigh.  “I was worried.”

Sensing the shift in tone, Ruby raised both her arms and beckoned for a hug that Yang willingly gave.  While the two sisters shared a sweet moment, Weiss glanced at Blake - who also had a hint of a happy smile in place watching the two hug it out.

“They could call you Hugger 2.0!” Ruby proclaimed when her sister pulled away, making them all chuckle.  She grinned around the room before her eyes returned to Yang and her smile lost a bit of its luster. “Have you...talked to the doctor yet?”

Yang’s grin disappeared while she reached over to pick up Ruby’s hand.

“For a little bit -”

“I can still train and stuff, right?”

When Yang’s gaze fell towards the ground, Weiss was suddenly painfully aware of how often Yang must’ve been forced into being the bearer of bad news.  How many times had Ruby asked a question that was out of Yang’s control?  How many times had Yang wanted, more than anything, to give her sister a good report when it was simply too far out of reach?

“I’m not sure, Ruby...” Yang replied, squeezing her sister’s hand.  “But he said you should be feeling better in no time. We’ll ask him specifically about your training, ok?”  

“Ok…”

The disappointment on Ruby’s face was so palpable that it threatened to break Weiss’ heart.  Even though Weiss never wanted Ruby to be a huntress again, how could she possibly wish for Ruby’s sadness?  After putting in so much time and effort...after wanting it so badly and working towards it every day...

“I’m sure he’ll say you’re just fine,” Weiss added with feigned confidence.  “You’ll be back out there before you know it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the stunned expressions Blake and Yang sent her.  And she definitely didn’t miss the grin of joy the words brought to Ruby’s face.

She understood why Yang was cautious about giving the green light, but the doctor had said Ruby would feel ‘perfect’ in no time.  ‘Perfect’ normally didn’t mean ‘better with some restrictions.’  If Yang was going to be upset about it...well, she could add it to the growing list of grievances and yell at Weiss later.

“I like Weiss’ answer way better!” Ruby replied.

“Oh yeah, course you do,” Yang said, giving Weiss a look of disbelief before turning back to Ruby with a teasing grin set in place.  “But you know that the doctor gets the final say.  And is Weiss a doctor?”

Looking past Yang, Ruby smiled at Weiss and nodded her head enthusiastically.  “Yeah, I think she is!”

“Nooo, no she’s not -”

“But look at her!  I really think she is!” Ruby added, giggling when Yang shook her head.  “I get it, Yang.  You only want me to listen to the hospital doctors, not the Weiss doctors.”

Weiss let out a small chuckle at the comment while Yang nodded.

“Yes.  Thank you.”  Satisfied with how the conversation ended, Yang popped back to her feet.  “Hey, how about I get you some dessert from the cafeteria?” she asked while shuffling backward towards the door.  “I know how much you like the cookies here.”

“Ohhhh yeah!  Can I have chocolate chip and double, double chocolate?” Ruby asked, her eyes begging her sister to agree.  

“I’ll get you one of every type!” Yang replied with a grin and wink.

“I’ll come with you?” Blake asked, getting to her feet before Yang could leave.  

The question, while seemingly simple, was so out of place it immediately caught Weiss’ attention.  Blake and Yang normally didn’t ask questions of each other - they just knew.  If Blake was unsure about Yang wanting her company, she must be unsure of how far across some invisible line she’d stepped.  

How much had Blake gone against Yang’s wishes in welcoming Weiss back - in taking Weiss’ ‘side’ in this war that would have no winner?  

Guilt bubbled up in Weiss’ chest for putting her two teammates through this horrible situation.  First, she left them on their own to help Ruby.  Now, she was causing turmoil between them.  They were the perfect pair - they always had been - yet even they weren’t spared from the repercussions of her mistakes.

“Yeah, of course,” Yang replied, finding a small smile while reaching out for Blake’s hand.  A flash of relief crossed Blake’s face as she accepted Yang’s hand and the two of them exited the room together - leaving Weiss and Ruby behind.

Glancing at Ruby, Weiss immediately smiled.  There were no words to describe how relieved she was that Ruby was fine - that this entire episode was nothing more than a small bump in her recovery.

“You remember me.”  

It was the first thing Weiss thought to say, and it only succeeded in making Ruby laugh.

“There’s no way I could forget you, Weiss!”

It didn’t matter that the words weren’t true.  The sentiment was more than enough to fill Weiss’ chest with a warm glow.  A few minutes ago, she’d been convinced that the sky was falling, but her brief panic had been uncalled for.  Ruby was stronger and more resilient than anyone else Weiss had ever met, so it should come as no surprise that this incident was just a blip on the radar.

“I’m sorry I scared you though...” Ruby added, her eyes conveying twice as much apology as her words.

“Don’t worry; I wasn’t…”

The lie formed itself, but Weiss’ response faltered under Ruby’s watchful gaze.  

It was an instinct to hide behind words, but there was no reason to be untruthful.  Not with Ruby, who probably already knew just how scared Weiss had been.

“Yes, I was scared,” she answered, reaching out and patting Ruby’s hand.  “But you’re alright, so I’m all better now.”

Being honest with Ruby was refreshing.  The lack of gamesmanship and misdirection lifted a tremendous weight from Weiss’ shoulders, allowing her to enjoy conversations without being on edge.

But while she could be honest with Ruby, they hadn’t yet reached the point where she was comfortable being forthcoming in her responses.  There was no reason for Ruby to know just how scared Weiss had been, how many flashbacks she’d suffered on the way to the hospital, how she’d imagined the blood staining her hands - blood that had long since disappeared but never fully washed away.

She’d just relived the worst moment in her life, and staying here, in the hospital, meant that it wasn’t over yet.

How many days had she spent in a room almost exactly like this one?  How many times had she accidentally fallen asleep in one of these chairs, as uncomfortable as they were?  How long had it taken for that windowsill to fill with flowers and cards from friends and family?  

Along with the flowers from well-wishers, she’d ensured there was always an abundance of red roses in the room.  The smell of the hospital put her on edge, and when Ruby had suddenly stopped smelling like fresh rose petals -

Weiss was startled from her thoughts when a warm hand clasped around her own and gently squeezed.  Distracted by the sensation, she looked down and found Ruby calmly holding her hand.  

“Hey...it’s ok,” Ruby whispered, giving Weiss’ hand a soft shake.  

The words were so simple, yet they made Weiss smile as relief built in her chest and worked outward through her limbs.  The tension she’d unwittingly held in her shoulders began to fade away, while the crease in her brow smoothed itself out.

Maybe she’d just relived the worst moment in her life, but this time the ending was different - Ruby was perfectly fine, and Weiss was still in her mind.  This was nothing like last time.  Even if it was...well, Weiss had already learned which decision was the wrong one.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Weiss whispered while Ruby subconsciously rubbed her thumb back and forth across the back of Weiss’ hand.

“All thanks to you!  Getting me here all fast and stuff.”  Grinning - while still holding Weiss’ hand - Ruby glanced at the heart rate monitor beside the hospital bed.  “Wish they wouldn’t hook me up to these things though,” she added.  “The sound kinda freaks me out.”

“Oh, well we can turn that off.”  Reaching over with her free hand, Weiss found the dial on the side of the machine and turned it all the way to the left.  When the beeping stopped, Weiss looked at Ruby.  

“There.  Is that better?”

“Yeah…” Ruby replied with a sheepish grin.  “Guess I probably could’ve figured that out…”

“Don’t worry about it.  That’s what I’m here for.”

Something about the response made Ruby beam with happiness.

“Then I’m mighty glad to have you here with me!”

The ceaseless gratitude shot a wave of guilt straight through Weiss’ heart, but she tried not to let her smile falter.  

There was no going back.  There was no changing the past.  But she could be here now.  And she could make sure she was the best for Ruby that she could possibly be.  She could make up for the past by being even better in the present.  That was her goal.  That’s how she could make this right - for all of them.

“Oh!  But you were gonna tell me something!” Ruby suddenly exclaimed.  “And then my dumb brain decided to shut off.”

“Oh...right.”  

After the chaotic events of the past few hours, that was the last thing Weiss expected Ruby to remember.

What she’d nearly told Ruby was that they’d gone to Beacon together - that they’d been teammates, partners, best friends...and more.  Weiss had nearly confessed that she was the one who’d given Ruby the ring hanging around her neck, and she was the one who’d left when Ruby got hurt.  

At that moment, it had felt like the right time.  She couldn’t allow Ruby to believe that her partner died.  No matter how much they’d lost, Weiss couldn’t bear for Ruby to believe that there was no one out there waiting for her - that someone who’d spent years training with her would have such little attachment.

But in the end, maybe it was better this way.  Without the pressure of being Ruby’s partner, maybe Weiss could carve out a different spot for herself in Ruby’s heart.

“I wanted to tell you...” she began, her heart pounding while she searched for the right answer in this situation.  “I wanted to tell you...what an inspiration you are.  With everything you’ve gone through and how you’ve rebounded...it gives me hope that one day I’ll able to do the same.”

It was a far cry from her original intent, but the words she said were still true.  And if Ruby didn’t believe the answer, there was no way to tell from her blinding grin.

“Of course you can!  You can do anything! And I’ll help you, you know, so don’t even worry.”

Worry was exactly what Weiss felt though, though she hoped her smile implied otherwise.  

How was it that Ruby always had never-ending faith in Weiss and her capabilities?  Would that change if Ruby knew the truth? Would that change if Ruby knew all of the ways Weiss had failed - the missteps she’d made and the people she’d disappointed?  

It was too difficult to consider her list of failures at the moment.  After the events of today, the past might be best left just where it was...in the past.

“Then I’ll have to find a way to thank you for your help,” Weiss said when a thought popped into her head.  “Unlimited ice cream, maybe?”

“Is that a real thing??” Ruby squealed with happiness.  “I’ll do anything for it!  What do you need help with?  I hope it’s not keeping your brain from exploding, cuz obviously I suck at that.  But if it’s working on a weapon, or being really fast, or something like that - I’m your girl!”

“My girl…” Weiss repeated.  The phrase threatened sadness, but somehow she overpowered the emotion and smiled instead.  “I like the sound of that.”

“And I like the sound of unlimited ice cream!” Ruby replied gleefully.  “Oh!  Do you wanna hear about all the tests they ran on me??”

When Weiss nodded, Ruby immediately launched into her story.

“Ok, so first was this giant machine that scans your brain.  I hope you don’t get claustrophobic because you definitely will be in there!  When it turns on, it makes this horrible loud noise.  I told the tech guy to turn it down a notch, and he turned on the speaker and said that since I moved we had to start over!”

Listening to Ruby’s amusing re-telling of the evening, Weiss chuckled at the appropriate moments while gently rubbing her wrist.  The skin there was red and tender, but it wouldn’t take long to heal. She was lucky that Blake was able to tame Yang’s rage.  When Yang saw red and wouldn’t hear reason, she still heard Blake - that was one of the reasons they made such great partners.

It was that fiercely protective nature that Weiss had once seen as Yang’s greatest weakness.  What purpose could flying off the handle at the drop of a hat possibly have?  If Ruby was fine, and Blake was fine, who cared if their feelings were hurt or they’d been placed in danger?  

It was a weakness to care too much.

Or so Weiss had thought.  Then, once upon a time, that protectiveness had included her as well.  

It was a feeling unlike any other knowing that someone was guarding her - that someone had her back, no matter how trivial the affront may be.  No matter what happened, someone was on her side. Someone was willing to fight for her - and with her.  

She’d grown to be protective in return - of her partner, of her teammates - and witnessed the positive impact it had on their fighting capabilities.

It wasn’t a weakness like she’d originally thought.  Love wasn’t a weakness.  Love was a strength.  It got them through the darkest of times together.  When they’d faced the end of the world, together, it was their undying love for one another that brought them safely through to the other side.

Squeezing Ruby’s hand, making her smile mid-sentence but not falter in her energetic storytelling, Weiss couldn’t help but hope that love could still somehow get them through - just one more time.