#this reminds me I need to write down some specific information so I can help ppl out more often actually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lincolndjarin · 11 months ago

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Every Now and Then - ch. two

[ And if You Only Hold Me Tight ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 9.3k

summary : you spend some time tommy, you spent some time with joel.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, language, panic attacks, violence, injury, wounds, possessive behavior, toxic relationships, animal death, i probs missed some i never know how to tag so lmk if i misses anything !!

a/n : this took so long and i dont even know it its good so i'm deeply sorry about that.

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“It’s nice to meet you Ellie.” You hold your hand out across the table to her, offering your own name up in the process, noticing an incredulous look in her eyes as you say it. Of course she doesn’t shake it, you’ve worked with enough survivors her age to know how they think.

She doesn’t trust any of this, and you can’t blame her. Every single thing she’s seen since arriving here is too good to be true, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s okay, you can be patient. She just needs to learn how to be a kid again. When she makes no attempt to move you pull your hand back, your smile never wavering. You’ve met kids in much worse condition than this, you can work with this.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself, Ellie.” You set the notebook you’d been writing in back down onto the table, you don’t want this to feel like an interrogation for her, it needs to be a conversation or you won’t get any of the information you need.

“Like what?” She’s slouched down into the chair, her arms crossed across her chest. She has her defenses up, she has spent her entire life protecting herself, she isn’t going to stop just because a stranger offered her a mug of tea. A mug of tea that she has notably not touched.

“Anything you want to, or I could ask some specifics if you’d like.” You take a sip of your own tea, hoping it might show her it’s safe. She only hums in response, you decide it might be for the best if you just ask her what you need to know. “Let’s start with a few easy ones, how old are you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“We need to assess your health, what classes you’ll be put in, if you’ll be needing any feminine products. I promise, anything I ask is for your own good.” Seeing kids like Ellie is a painful reminder of just how lucky your own little ones are, it’s a wonder she made it this far. You can’t hold her skepticism against her, her distrust is why she’s still alive. “Would it help if we brought your father in? He’s just down the hall with Maria.” You aren’t sure why, you typically handle every stray but she had insisted on helping you out today. She’d spewed some sort of excuse about how Ellie might need some special attention but as far as you can tell she’s in the same state that most kids are in when they arrive.

“He’s not my dad.” She’s quick to say it, as if it’s a sore subject.

“May I ask his relation to you then?” Maria had told you she arrived with her father, you were told to expect one teenage girl and one man in his fifties.

“He’s… my friend?” She sounds unsure, unsure enough to ring alarm bells in your head.

“Honey, are you in a safe situation? We can help you if you need-” She doesn’t even let you finish your question before sitting up straighter.

“No, no, no, gross, it’s not like that, he’s not like that.” The look of disgust on her face brings you immense relief, this world is full of enough horrors for a young woman to face.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure.” Even if she hasn’t been through that, she hasn’t had it easy, no one has. But there’s something distinct in her eyes. Loss. She’s seen more than enough of it, more than anyone her age should. Her eyes keep darting to the door, her head tilts in that direction every time someone walks by. She’s worried about her companion. She doesn’t want to lose him too. “I know none of this makes sense, and you have no reason to trust me but I need you to try Ellie. And if I ask you anything you aren’t comfortable with then you don’t have to answer but I need you to try, please. The faster we finish up here, the faster you can get back to your friend.”

She takes a moment, you’re practically holding your breath when she finally nods.

Perfect, you can work with a nod. You love a nod, a nod is all you need to help this girl.

“Let’s start with your age again.”

“Fourteen.” You’ll have to have a menstruation kit sent to whatever house they put her in, most people’s cycles start being regular once after a few months in Jackson.

“Thank you.” All you get is another nod yet you can’t help but smile. “Do you know where you were born?”

“No.” Her eyes are trained on your shoes, occasionally darting around the room but staying low for the most part.

“Where did you grow up?”

“The QZ.” The thought makes you sick for several reasons. The last place a child should grow up is the streets of a quarantine zone, even if she was in the FEDRA program it wouldn’t have been easy. The thought of any QZ still makes you queasy, even after this long.

“Which one?” Anywhere but Boston.

“Boston.” Of course. With your luck she would be. Someone’s far from home.

“FEDRA program?” As terrible as they are, they always keep the kids' vaccinations up to date, one less thing for you to worry about.

“Mhmm.”

“How old were you when you left?”

“Fourteen.” How the hell did she make it to Jackson all the way from Boston in such a short period of time? Why come to Jackson at all? There’s certainly other QZ’s between here and there, there’s probably other settlements too.

“Can I ask why you left?” It’s not a question you need to ask but your stomach is in knots at the mention of the Boston QZ and you can’t help yourself.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Something flashes across her face, she isn’t trying to be rude, she simply doesn’t want to talk about it.

“That’s fine.” You don’t need to worry about it. She doesn’t know him. There’s no reason for her to know him. QZ’s house hundreds, if not thousands, of people. There’s no reason to spiral over nothing. “Do you have any allergies that you’re aware of?”

“Nope.” She makes a popping sound on the “P” as she leans back in the chair, trying to look relaxed despite how on edge she still is. You decide not to put anymore pressure on her, it won’t do you any good.

“How are you feeling physically? Any symptoms of illness?”

“Like infection?” You have to stifle a laugh, if she was infected the two of you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

“I’m not worried about that, I mean something more like a runny nose or a cough.”

“Oh. No.”

“Any skills in particular you’d like to learn? Our school system is a little less traditional than what you probably had with FEDRA.”

“I like science.” She sits up a bit, good, you’ve found something that piques her interest.

“Then I will make sure you’re enrolled in some science classes. But I meant skills like agriculture, construction, or veterinary care. Something you could learn about that interests you. You won’t be asked to help out around town until you’re sixteen but we like to let you explore different things to see what you like-”

“Could I learn how to shoot a gun?” She leans forward before you can finish your thought.

“You could apprentice some of the hunters, we could also have you trained for patrol and scavenging which involves gun safety and training courses. You’re a bit young for those but I’m sure I could ”

“Really?” You can tell by the inflection in her voice that she still doesn’t trust you entirely, even if she’s excited.

“Of course, you’ll probably be the youngest student in the training class but I’m sure you can handle it.” She needs something good in her life. You want to protect everyone who finds their way to Jackson but this girl makes your heart ache. Most adults you’ve worked with aren’t able to hold themselves together this long, putting on a brave face despite everything.

“Do you like burgers?” You almost cringe as you say it, hoping she’s had food outside of the synthetic shit FEDRA produces.

“I guess?”

“I’m having a little cookout tomorrow evening once everyone’s finished their work, it’ll be small, just me and some family but you’re welcome to join. You can bring your friend, I have two little ones you can play with. They might be a little younger than your usual friends but I promise they’re great company.” You swear she almost smiles, and suddenly you just want to make this poor kid smile. “You know, I’ve got a telescope in my garage, so if you stop by it’s all yours.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, I’ve never even touched the thing so maybe you can put it to good use. Let me write down the house description for you, it isn’t too far from this building, you can stop in whenever you want tomorrow. There’s an empty house across the street as well, maybe I could show it to you, see if you like it.” You pencil it down, tearing the paper and handing it to her. This isn’t something you’d typically do but you can’t resist an opportunity to help her feel more at home here.

“Yeah, I mean that would be great.”

“Perfect.” You lean back in your chair. “What sort of hobbies interest you?” You’ll be in charge of putting together a welcome basket for her since Maria has marked her down as a permanent occupant.

“Reading, I like comics. And I used to draw a lot in the QZ.” Perfect, books are easy to find since Jackson was built around a small library.

“Okay then, I think that’s all I need from you for now but I’ll be around soon once you get housing settled. You can go join Maria and your friend if you’d like, I have to figure out what house we’re going to put you two in but I’ll be stopping by later with a few things for you.” That actually isn’t all you need from her, there are more questions on your mind, one specific question. Ask her what his name is.

“Thanks.” She stands, quickly heading towards the exit as you grab your notebook, you need to make a list of everything they’ll be needing.

You shouldn’t. If by some stroke of misfortune you’re right this question will only serve to destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to push away. You shouldn’t.

But you do.

Before she’s out the door you call out her name, you don’t want to know, but you have to.

“Ellie, what’s your friend's name?”

You found the treehouse two months after you found Jackson.

With tears streaming down your face you had dropped the twins off at Maria’s, mumbling apologies before going to the edge of town, a large amount of Jackson was empty, and still is. They’re planning for the future. Someday, generations from now, the town will grow and they’ll use these houses to accommodate families. But for now it’s just an empty town, one that you realized had a treehouse. You had hidden yourself away there, curling up into a ball to become as small as possible.

Tommy had found you hours later, shivering, with no more tears left to cry. And he hadn’t chastised you or asked you why you’d done it, he’d just taken your hand and walked you home. It doesn’t take him hours this time, only about thirty minutes according to your watch. You hear the crunch of his boots, the walking pattern you recognize as his, and the creak of the boards as he pushes the hatch open before sliding up into the small space with you.

Before he speaks you’re already reaching for him, desperate to cling to some kind of familiar safety.

“Hey darlin’.” It’s a dance you two do, fluid and instinctual as he pulls you into his arms, you slot yourself between his bent legs as he wraps himself around you. You used to sit like this when you couldn’t find shelter on snowy nights, one of the many habits you had trouble breaking when you found Jackson. Maria would never ask you to change your relationship with him, it was a decision you had made with Tommy when he told you he wanted to marry her. A part of you just sort of knew she didn’t like it, so you stopped. And you’d never hold that against her, if the roles were reversed you certainly wouldn’t be as kind as she’s been. That’s why you’ve always loved Maria, since the first day you met her she has been like a sister, patient but blunt with you.

Except in this one instance.

She withheld some particularly important information.

“The twins?” You lay back against him as you mumble.

“Maria’s watching them. They’re helping her make dinner, you shoulda’ seen them in the kitchen. I swear she’s the only person they listen…” His voice trails off when he feels you tensing up all over again as you go back to fighting off tears.

A silence falls between you, familiar and reminiscent of your first few days together out in the woods. And just like back then, you’re the one to break it.

“Have you seen him yet?” The words feel small and hoarse in your throat.

“No. Couldn’t bring myself to.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, you wish you could find comfort in any of this but there’s just too much dread. Too much unease fills your stomach to relax.

“Does he know you’re here?” You wish your voice didn’t tremble so much.

“Maria didn’t tell him.”

“Are we sure it’s even him?”

“Not a lot of Joel Millers walking around during the apocalypse.” It’s like he can sense your skepticism as he quickly continues. “She said he looked like a Miller.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Like me but grayer.” Fair enough.

“Does he know I’m here?” There’s no way. He couldn’t.

“No.”

“Good.”

“Can’t stay that way forever.” You know that. But you don’t have anything to say about it so you move on, and redirect the anger that mixes with your confusion and fear.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” He can’t take your side in this, as much as you want him to, he has to take her side because her’s is the rational one. Do you have a side? Can you be mad at her for this? Are there even sides?

“Probably because she knew we’d react like this.” His head tilts a bit to rest against your own. You’re thankful for this position so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“She should have told us.” You’re trying to remain calm but your voice is pitching up higher by the minute.

“She was going to, she just didn’t know how. She thought she had more time”

You need to relax. It feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest and you’re certain Tommy feels it too.

“How did he find us?” He wouldn’t have been looking for you specifically, unless he had a death wish.

“On accident, I think. Maria said he was looking for me when they found him.” That makes sense. It’s just a coincidence that you’re also here. He has no way of knowing that you even know Tommy. How he managed to locate him is another matter.

“We’re two thousand miles away from the QZ, how the fuck did he find you?”

“He always gets what he wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Plain and simple, you don’t need much more than that.

“I don’t want to see him.” An impossible request, but you make it anyway.

“We both know that isn’t possible.”

“Tell her to send him away.” Also unlikely.

“You know she can’t do that, we don’t turn folks away from Jackson.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Like hell you will.” There is no fight in his voice, just certainty as he holds you a little tighter. Not without me. The silent promise that lingers under his words, but it’s more complicated than that now, you have two toddlers and he has a wife, there is no running away from this. No running away from him

He’s inevitable.

It doesn’t matter if the world ends, and you run halfway across the country, Joel Miller is inevitable.

“He’s got a kid.” You mumble as you reach for his hand, entwining your fingers with his. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the warmth of his skin against yours.

He scoffs. “He’s got two.”

“Another kid, some girl. He brought her here all the way from Boston.”

He shifts a bit, clearly confused. “Why?”

“I was hoping you’d know, it isn’t exactly in his nature to help the needy.”

He pauses for a moment. “Well, I mean, how old is she?”

“Fourteen.”

“Well there’s your reason, Sarah was fourteen.”

Sarah.

A girl you know very little about other than the fact that she’s your daughter's namesake. Sarah Ruth Miller. It had been Tommy’s idea, you had only picked out a name for a boy and you owed Tommy everything for keeping you alive that long, so when he asked if he could pick his niece's middle name you’d been more than happy to oblige.

It hadn’t been Joel who told you about Sarah, he never even told you he had a kid.

Tommy had told you about it just before the twins were born. You’d been snowed into a cabin and he’d just returned from hunting with a grin on his face as he told you he had a surprise. You couldn’t sleep, between the cold and the pain in your lower back you were just too uncomfortable most nights. Tommy always insisted on staying up to keep you company even if he ended up falling asleep most of the time.

That night he told you about how he lost his niece on outbreak day as he skinned the fox he’d caught in one of his traps as you sat beside him in front of the crumbling fireplace. When he finished the story he held up the pelt and told you he was going to make your babies first blanket with it.

Of course at the time neither of you knew that he would have to make a second blanket, or that he would need to do it a month sooner than either of you had planned.

“I invited him to dinner tomorrow.” No sense in hiding the fact from him, he’ll find out either way.

“What?” His hand tightens around yours and it’s your turn to comfort him as your thumb rubs circles against the tense skin.

“Ellie- the kid, I invited her before I knew about Joel. Even told her she could bring him.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. Of course you invited him to dinner completely by accident, sounds like something you would do.

“Then why don’t we just get it over with?” Or you could leave, brave the Wyoming wilderness with your kids and his wife and make a run for it, far, far, away from Joel Miller.

But you can’t do that.

So you might as well get it over with.

“Together?” You bring his hand up to your face to warm the icy skin of your cheek.

“Together.”

He means it. He stays with you until the next day, walking you back into town and bringing you to his house. Maria starts apologizing the second the two of you walk through the door but you just hug her. She doesn’t owe you anything, any anger you thought you felt towards her was misplaced.

And you all settle in for the night.

On particularly bad nights you’ll spend the night at their house. It’s been happening less and less these last few months but it’s an unspoken decision tonight as Maria brings down sleeping bags from the attic for the kids.

You tuck the kids in by the fireplace, hoping that they don’t catch the vacant look in your eyes as you kiss their foreheads. Thankfully they both seem to be too excited about having a living room campout to notice. You hear hushed whispers from the kitchen, it sounds like an argument so you just sit on the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you stare out the window facing the street.

What house did she put them in? There are a few options for temporary housing, but he could be anywhere. The thought makes you nauseous. Thankfully you’re distracted when you eventually hear Maria stomping up the stairs followed by a sigh from the kitchen before Tommy joins you on the couch.

“Everything all right?” You mumble, hoping to not wake the kids as you offer up some of the blanket to him.

“It will be.”

God you hope so.

“How do you wanna do this?”

Good question.

Preferably you wouldn’t be doing this at all, instead you would be enjoying what might be the last nice day before autumn sets in entirely. You, Arthur, Ruth, Tommy, and Maria. You’d still be happy if Ellie came over by herself but that’s so unlikely you don’t even consider it an option. Joel’s too protective and you confirmed with Maria that Ellie would be coming. He won’t let her go alone, you know that better than anyone.

You rub the back of your neck with your freehand. “The kids stay inside with Maria.” Ruth is already there, helping her aunt with the salad as Arthur sits in your lap, playing with a few stones he’s set up on the picnic table.

“Okay.” Tommy’s biting his nails, you’d spent weeks reprimanding him about that until he broke the habit.

Your knee starts bouncing, a nervous habit of your own that you’ve had for as long you can remember. Thankfully Arthur simply hums to himself as you bounce him. As far as you can tell neither one of the twins knows something is wrong, you can only hope it stays that way.

“We can wait for them out here, I can ask Ellie to go in and help Maria with the kids.”

“And then?”

You frown in contemplation. “I haven’t planned that far ahead.”

“So you didn’t plan for the most important part?”

“Did you?”

His teeth shift when you ask, biting down hard enough to split his nail lower than he intended. You watch as blood blooms there while he curses under his breath.

“Shit, go inside and grab a bandage, they’re in the cabinet above the sink.” He stands as you wave him towards the house, he brings his thumb to his mouth, his brow furrowed. “And bring Maria and Ruth out with you when you come back so we can go over everything with her.” He nods, humming in response before he disappears behind the screen door.

“Is Uncle Tommy okay?” When you look down you’re met with a worried look plastered on your son's face. You instinctively cup his face with your hand, using your thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. He looks too much like his father when he does that.

“He’s okay, love. He’s just gotta go get your Aunt and Ruth.” You lean down, kissing his forehead before turning to set him down next to you.

“Okay, Mama.” He seems satisfied with your response as he gives your leg a little pat before running off towards the edge of the yard. You’ve got a patch of rocks and gravel the kids like to dig through. You turn to watch him, with your back now leaning against the picnic table as he crouches down, examining the ground before finding a suitable stone. Clutching it in his hand he rushes back to you, holding it up for your approval.

“Very pretty, thank you.” You take it from him with a smile, setting it behind you on the table with the rest of them. He repeats the process several times, staring down at the ground, scrutinizing each rock before bringing the ones he deems good enough over to you. You give appropriate oo’s and ah’s to each one, grateful for the brief peace your son is able to give you. He carries on with this for sometime, until you have a sizable pile of rocks beside you.

He leaves, and he returns, dozens of times until he decides not to return to the patch of gravel.

You thank him for the speckled stone he hands you now but instead of running back across the yard he squints, staring up at your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He hops up onto the bench next to you, grabbing the sleeve of your shirt and bunching it up in his little fist as you give him a soft smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, hon.” You ruffle his hair a bit but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“Why’d you make a mad face then? Uncle Tommy too.”

So much for the kids being clueless, they’ve always been too smart for their own good.

Shit.

You sigh, looking up at the clouds briefly before looking back down at him.

No sense in lying to him. “You know how Uncle Tommy has a brother?” You wrap an arm around him, pulling him close.

His face scrunches up a bit as he thinks. “Yeah…” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced as you give him a reassuring smile.

“Well, we don’t really- we don’t always get along with Uncle Tommy’s brother, and he’s gonna be visiting us soon.”

“Why?”

“He’s in Jackson for a little bit, and he came a long way to get here-”

“No Mama, why don’t you like him?”

This is a conversation you had hoped to have with your children when they’re older. Preferably it would be one you wouldn’t have to have at all, but it’s just another unavoidable part of Joel. They’re already old enough to ask questions, it started when kids in their class began asking if Tommy was their dad. Which of course led to the twins asking you one night just before bed the same question.

“No love, he’s your uncle, who told you that?” You don’t want that rumor going around, people already talk about it, it doesn’t help that they both bear a resemblance to him.

“No one, Annie asked us.” Your daughter answers as you brush some of her hair behind her ear. You recognize the name, it’s a girl in their daycare class.

“And what did you tell her?”

“That we just got a mom.” Ruth answers but Arthur picks up the second she’s finished speaking.

“Do we have a dad?” He tilts his head to the side as you swallow loudly.

“Yes, you do.”

“Where?” Ruth asks.

Last you’d heard he was in Boston.

“I’m not sure.” They turn and look at each other before turning in unison towards you, you should have known they wouldn’t take that answer. “We lived together for a little while, in New York, and then we got separated.” None of that means anything to either of them but it’s an answer, which is better than nothing.

Arthurs tiny hand squeezes yours, pulling you back into reality. You often wonder if they know when you’re lost in a memory, he looks up at you curiously. What did you do to deserve such a patient child?

You take a moment to think of a way to phrase it. “We… got into a fight. A long time ago.”

“About what?”

“Grown up stuff.” Your heartbeat quickens, you don’t want him to know about all that, he’s too little, you need to end this conversation.

“What kin-“ When he starts another line of questioning you poke at his sides, sliding him off the bench in a fit of giggles.

“Time to go inside, nosy little man.” You follow after him as he rushes away, brown hair that’s just starting to curl at the ends falling into his eyes as he runs away from the house.

You catch up to him within a few steps, scooping him up and cradling him like a baby. He lets out a high pitched shriek until you squish your face into his cheek, kissing the rosy skin until he quiets down to a few small giggles.

“Your aunt needs some help in the kitchen, you’re gonna go play with her and your sister now.” He nods as he squirms in your arms until he’s more comfortable, wrapping his arms around your neck and resting his chin on your shoulder as you walk him back towards the house.

He’s gonna need a nap soon, which means Ruth is gonna need a nap soon. Maybe you should try and get them both down before everything else happens.

Right on cue, Tommy pushes open the door with Ruth on his hip, Maria not far behind him. Based on the smiles they’re both sporting you can assume they’ve made up. They always do.

“I think it might be time for these two to head inside.” Tommy gives you a soft smile and for a single second you get to pretend that everything’s fine. Maria takes a lighter towards the grill, trying to light it as you go to stand next to Tommy, the twins both grinning at each other.

In your own little bubble, everything is completely fine, and you’re with your family.

And at the end of your single perfect second the bubble is popped. It all happens before you’re ready, although you doubt you could ever really be ready for this.

Maria pockets her lighter, mumbling something about going inside to look for matches after a few unsuccessful attempts. You set Arthur down, nudging him in her direction, he quickly runs towards her, taking her hand as she begins to make her way back towards the house. Tommy wraps his free hand around your shoulder. Giving you a reassuring squeeze as you rest your head against him to stare at your little girl.

“We’ve got this.” He gives you another squeeze but you’re struggling to find safety in it. He’s always been the strong one, the confrontational one. He’s got this. You don’t. You tilt your head to stare at him when Ruth’s gaze goes from your face to his but your head snaps to the side when you hear your name called.

Everyone looks up. The twins, Maria, Tommy, and you, as Ellie walks around the side of the house and waves at you. The sound of your name makes the man walking behind her look as well, his all too familiar scowl scanning the yard, softening into a look of disbelief when his eyes settle on you.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“I don’t like havin’ you out there on your own. I worry too much.” He mumbles the words against the back of your neck as he tightens his hold around your waist. At some point the two of you had stopped pretending you’d wake up any other way and just went to bed like this. “Stay here, angel.”

You’re so comfortable you almost consider it, but you ran out of cards last week and you’re cleared for work as of today. “I have to go if I want to sign up for any of the well paying shifts, Joel.” You peel his arms off of you, sitting up as he matches your movements.

“Don’t sign up for that shit, it’s always somethin’ stupid or dangerous.” His voice is low and thick with sleep as he wraps his arms back around you. “If you need somethin’ I’ll get it for you.” He hasn’t shaved in a few weeks, his coarse facial hair rubs against your shoulder as he murmurs.

Who knew big, scary Joel Miller could be so clingy.

The most surprising part of your relationship, if you could even call it that, with Joel is just how needy he is. You don’t have any problems with it, it’s just a bit of a shock. Although maybe needy isn’t the right word.

Protective.

You’ve left the apartment two times in total since moving in with Joel, both times you insisted on needing air much to his dismay. He accompanied you around the block without a word the first time. The second time was the same, the only difference was that you stopped to buy a small bag of buttons, Joel had frowned as you made small talk with the older man sitting behind the table before rushing you home.

“You could have just told me you needed buttons.” He grumbles as he holds the door open for you as you make your way to the kitchen table, taking a seat as you take his flannel off of you, the sight of your tattered sports bra serves as a reminder of how badly you need to get back to work once you’re cleared.

“I don’t need buttons, you do. Every shirt you own is missing at least one.” You laid the shirt down on the table, pointing to the drawer next to the sink. “Get me the sewing kit.” His frown deepens but he does as you say before sitting down across from you.

Reaching across the table he sets the box down beside you, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Still, you should have just asked me.”

You open the small tin, unspooling a bit of thread. “I needed to go outside for a few minutes, it’s stuffy in here.”

“We could have opened a window.” He grumbles under his breath as you grin, holding the thread between your teeth while sliding the other end through the needle.

“It’s not the same and you know it.” You mumble through your teeth before releasing the thread and setting the needle down. You pour the buttons out onto the table, searching for one that best matches the beige of the buttons on the flannel. Eventually his hand encompasses your own as he guides you to one that’s a slightly different shape but matches the color perfectly. “Thank you.” You give him a teasing smile as you place it over the frayed threads where its predecessor once was.

That was a week ago and you haven’t been outside since but when Joel went to get the mail from downstairs he brought you a notice from the doctor that you were cleared to return to work today. Despite his protests you start to push the blanket off of you but he’s quick to pull it right back up into place.

“Stay, please.” He continues to hum against your skin.

“I need the money, Joel.” You turn to look at him, his usual morning sulky look seems doubled today.

“How much do you need?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he lets his face fall forward, his forehead resting on yours.

“It’s not like that.” You swear, if you asked him to, he'd find a way to give you the moon and stars, but you hate relying on him for everything, especially after such a long time of being dependent on him. “I just need to work.”

“You don’t need to. You want to.” His breath still smells like whiskey from last night as he gives you an exasperated glare.

“Fine, I want to work. My leg’s fine now, you can barely tell anything was wrong with it. I’ll be okay.” You lean just a bit more towards him, kissing his cheek before sliding out of bed.

You aren’t exactly dating Joel.

Dating seems so trivial during an apocalypse, and you haven’t had any conversations about it. It just sort of happened. You woke up one day and neither one of you wanted to pull away from the other, and it progressed from there. He came home from a job one night and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping himself around you and he kissed your forehead before falling asleep. You still don’t know if he knew you were awake. The next night you’d taken his face in your hands and kissed him, just to see what he’d do, thankfully after a moment of shock he’d kissed you back. And it just became another unspoken part of your life with Joel. He kissed you goodbye when he left to go do the things he refused to tell you about in any detail, and you always greeted him with a kiss when he returned.

But you don’t have sex.

You want to ask him why but you hold your tongue, it’s possible you’re just being impatient or maybe he just wants to wait. So you don’t push it or bring it up because you like how things are with him.

The word boyfriend is not a word that suits Joel.

He isn’t your boyfriend, he’s just sort of, yours.

“Angel, please.” He continues his griping as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Joel, please.” You repeat back at him, trying to mimic his low tone.

“I’m bein’ serious. Things have gotten bad out there recently, too much FEDRA bullshit.”

“It’s always been bad and I’ve always managed, I’ll be fine.” You pull one of his shirts out of the closet, slipping it on, starting to button it as he makes his way to the end of the bed.

“Can we at least talk about this?” He rests his elbows on his knees as he hunches over. The morning haze on his face is gone and is replaced by the stern scowl you’re used to.

“There isn’t anything to talk about. I’ll be careful, there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll see you tonight.” After digging through the dresser drawers you eventually find your only pair of jeans. Once your boots are laced you walk back over to him, standing between his legs and taking his face in your hands.

Staring down into his surprisingly gentle eyes, so dark that in the dim morning light they look pitch black.

God he’s pretty.

Even with that stupid pout of his.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You lean down, placing a kiss on his forehead before pulling away only to be stopped when his grip on your waist tightens.

“Just- wait.” You’re about to push him away with a laugh but his voice cracks just enough to make your smile drop.

You start to speak in a soft tone but you only get one word out. “Joel…”

“Please- I just- I can’t let you go out there and sign up for that shit. There’s jobs that aren’t dangerous, simple stuff.”

“Those jobs pay a few cards at best, hon. I can’t wear your clothes forever, I need new underwear, socks, all sorts of things. And I want to contribute around here, I’ll be okay, I promise.” You push the mess of hair falling across his forehead back as you stare down at him.

He looks so genuinely upset already and you haven’t even left yet, he’s making this far more difficult than you thought it’d be. “I won’t be able to do anything if I don’t know you’re safe. It’s dangerous for both of us, I can’t be distracted like that.” You sigh, long and loud as you drop your hands to your sides.

The more you think about it the more it makes sense. He really does worry too much, and even if you don’t know exactly what he does for work, you know it’s dangerous.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

“Okay.” You groan.

“You’ll stay?” The corners of his mouth start to raise a bit.

“I’ll do the safer jobs.” The hint of a smile that had been on his face dissipates. “It’s a compromise. You can’t always get everything you want.”

“Fine, come right home after.”

“I will.” With one more kiss he finally lets you go.

So, at Joel’s request, you sign up for the easy jobs.

They’re boring, and generally sort of terrible, and they pay the least, but Joel doesn’t make any further arguments about it. So you keep signing up for them. Typically it’s childcare, or filing documents for FEDRA, or working in the entry level food processing jobs.

Boring, boring, jobs that involve standing around and doing nothing or wrangling kids who don’t deserve to grow up in a place like this. You hate the look on their little faces, they always look too grown up for their ages.

But you put up with it, because at the end of the day you get to go home to Joel, Joel who seems to be in significantly higher spirits ever since you’ve agreed to those specific jobs. So you make it work. He makes it worth the banality of it all, at the end of your first week back to work he surprised you with a large paper bag, grinning like you’d never seen him before. When you unfolded the crumpled bag you were greeted with a mess of fabric, different colors and textures. You poured the contents onto the bed and immediately realized what he’d gotten you. Bras, panties, socks, and two pairs of jeans. It must’ve cost him a fortune and your eyes began to water immediately. You had wrapped your arms around him, barely letting go of him for the rest of the night.

After that it got even easier, eventually you got used to it.

You learned to live with the terrible jobs, and if you wanted anything you couldn’t afford with your meager savings Joel always managed to get it for you, even if you hadn’t told him you’d wanted it in the first place.

You probably would have stayed like that forever if you hadn’t started taking the long way home. Weeks had passed before it happened, you had grown comfortable, vulnerable. Joel always made sure you felt safe and you let your guard down just long enough for something to happen.

Joel had left early that morning, telling you that he was gonna be late, before he kissed you, he was out the door before the sun came up.

Whenever Joel told you he would be late you took the long way home. Winding back alleys that were mostly empty that always led back to the apartment building. It was just a treat for yourself, something to do to fill time that would be spent at home, waiting for him.

You never had any issues or alterations.

Until that afternoon.

Joel will be late.

So the second your shift is over you take the handful of cards and make your way through the city. And just like you’ve done every other time, you look behind you every once and a while but not nearly as much as you should. Because of this, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

It’s a younger man, probably a year or two older than you at most peering around the last corner you turned. Once he knows he’s been seen his pace quickens and instinctively you do the same.

“On the ground!” The second you hear it you pray it’s for someone else, it has to be, you’ve done nothing wrong. You walk faster, hoping to avoid what could be a messy confrontation when the sound of boots slamming on the pavement rushes towards you and you’re forced up against the wall of the alley.

In your peripheral you catch the white text against the black of his uniform.

FEDRA.

Your knees are kicked from under you as he pins your arms behind your back, the force at which your head hits the stone has you dizzy as you try to catch your breath. Too much is happening too quickly, when you finally feel like you can use your voice the wind is knocked out of you as you feel him hit you in the side, hard enough to have you wondering if he broke a rib. The force of the hit makes your knees crumble completely as the officer lets you fall, only giving you enough time to get to your hands and knees before his boot slams into your stomach knocking you onto your side.

Finally, when you roll over onto your back you get a clear look at him. He looks like your average FEDRA officer, the only thing out of place is the unsure look on his face. Your ears are ringing so you barely make out what he says, all you catch is something about thinking you were someone else, before he turns and leaves as if it never happened.

Leaving you alone to clutch your stomach and wonder what just happened, and what you did to deserve that.

You’d never heard of random attacks from FEDRA before. Maybe in other zones, but the city has always been calm as far as that goes. Maybe things really did get worse while your leg was healing.

Joel was right.

That’s all you can think about as you stumble to get to your feet, everything hurts but now is not the time to assess your wounds, you need to get home before something else happens. You manage to hobble up the stairs of the building, nearly collapsing by the time you opened the door.

You feel so stupid.

Joel was right.

It isn’t safe out there, at least not for you. No one fucks with Joel, no one attacks him on the street because they’re afraid of him. No ones afraid of you.

It’s a long couple of hours after that.

Mostly a lot of berating yourself as you try to take in the extent of the damage.

Surprisingly it seems to mostly be surface level. Sure, you’re going to bruise pretty bad and your face got scraped up on the stones but nothing permanent seems to have been inflicted.

Once you’ve showered and slipped into an old shirt of his and a pair of panties you climb into bed, wanting this day to just be over, but you know it isn’t. Right on schedule you hear the lock click as Joel steps through the front door, you hide your face in your pillow.

“What are you still doin’ up? It’s almost midnight.” His voice is a low whisper as you hear the familiar sounds of him kicking off his boots and setting down his things. You hear the outer layer of his clothing hit the floor, you told him a while ago you thought it was gross that he slept in the clothes he wore all day. He started sleeping in his undershirt and boxers after that. “You okay, Darlin’?” The bed shifts as he sits beside you and the second you turn and look at him his jaw twitches. “Christ… what the hell happened? Who did this to you?” He’s managing to stay mostly calm but you’re already worried he’s going to blow.

“It’s nothing, I just had an issue with an officer on my way-“

“This is not nothing.” He’s already fussing with your face as you take his hands and move them away from you.

“Joel-“

“Tell me what happened.” It’s a command and you’re too tired to fabricate something, and for the first time in a while, you’re afraid.

So you tell him exactly how it happened. And before you realize it’s happening you’re sniffling, a part of you feels like you’re about to be scolded for this but he only nods, never interrupting you until you’ve finished.

Your vision’s blurry with tears when you look up at him, the weight of being attacked starts to weigh heavy as you realize just how lucky you were that that was all that happened. And then you say the words he’s been waiting to hear.

“You were right, Joel.”

“I’m sorry, angel. I should have been there to protect you.” He holds his arms open and you don’t hesitate as you lean forward into him. You do your best to hold it together as he lays you down before clicking off the lamp and pulling you back against him. He softly scratches your back, kissing the top of your head as he does. It’s silent for a few more minutes until he suddenly whispers into the darkness. “Tell me you’ll stay here from now on.”

“Joel, I-“

“No more going out there without me. You’ll stay safe right here, no one can hurt you here, not while I’m around.” You open your mouth to argue again but stop yourself.

He’s right.

Now that you’ve calmed down you know that you’re lucky to even be alive. You don’t know why you were attacked but you know it could happen again, and there are worse things than being beaten.

No one would hurt you here, not with Joel around.

“Stay here, angel.” He murmurs, softer this time.

Joel is right.

“Okay.”

He isn’t beside you when you wake up, your hands searching through the cold sheets seeking his warmth. He had mentioned something as you were falling asleep about an early morning supply run but you had hoped to say goodbye before he left, you wanted to make him breakfast. As you get ready to roll back over and sleep a bit more you’re startled into an upright position.

“You should watch where you’re flying, angel.” You bite back a shriek as Tess’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen.

“Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” Your heart skips a beat as you reach over to the nightstand, pulling on the little chain that turns the lamp on. “Joel’s not even here, what are you doing?” You don’t like the idea of being alone with her, she doesn’t come around much anymore, you used to see her in the hall on her way here constantly, but after you moved in she stopped.

You do your best not to flinch as she makes her way over to you, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I’m not here to hurt you, there’s no need for theatrics.” You hadn’t realized you were shaking so badly until she said it, it takes a conscious effort but you manage to stop it for the most part. “I’m just here to talk.”

“About what?”

“About you and Joel.”

You don’t want to talk about that with Tess. You don’t want to talk to Tess at all, she frightens you and she knows it.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” This time when you flinch she hesitates. For a brief moment the facade of a woman who fears nothing drops, and you swear you see sympathy in her eyes. “Joel is dangerous, you need to be careful with him or you’re going to get hurt.”

Is that why she’s here? To try and break you up?

“He won’t hurt me, he cares about me.” You wish you sounded more sure of yourself.

“You’re right, at least for now.” She flips her pocket knife open, ever so carefully running the blade along the underside of her nails, scraping away any dirt or grime she so happens to find, you fight the urge to flinch again. When she finally looks back up at you she takes a moment, examining your expression as if this was an interrogation. “Being loved by him is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a girl like you.”

You can’t help but scoff, now look who’s being theatrical. “A girl like me?”

“Good, too good. And fragile.” She points at you with the blade before returning to her nails. “He’ll do anything to keep you safe, even if it means breaking you into tiny little pieces, just so you’ll fit in a box he can lock.”

You’re about to call her a liar but you hesitate. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You deserve to know.”

“Okay, but why? You don’t even like me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you.”

Fair enough.

“I think you should go.” You don’t want to hear anything else. You don’t believe anything she’s saying and the entire conversation makes you feel sick. She doesn’t know anything about your relationship with him, and she clearly doesn’t know anything about Joel. He’d do anything for you, you don’t think you’ve ever been taken care of before you met him.

“What do you know about glue traps?” She doesn’t make any effort to leave so you decide to just answer her with a sigh.

“Like the ones you use to catch mice? I don’t know, Joel buys them sometimes.”

She points her knife in the direction of the corner of the room, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Sure enough, in the corner of the room, peeking out from under his dresser, is the faint outline of something on the floor, you’d never noticed it before.

“It’s the worst kind of way to catch a mouse.” She stands, walking across the room and peeling up the trap with the edge of her blade before snapping it shut and taking the edge of the trap between her fingers, dragging it across the floor to the middle of the room so you had a clear view of it. “They’ll do anything to get out.” The tip of her boot nudges the corner of the trap, now that it’s been dragged into the lamp light you can see exactly what she wanted to show you. Two things are in the bloody trap. A mouse, barely alive, based on the way its chest rises and falls, and something else. A caterpillar maybe?

No.

A leg. A bloody mouse leg, on the edge of the trap.

“They’ll chew off their limbs, and peel off their own skin just to get out, the ones that manage to are lucky enough to bleed out somewhere else. The ones stuck in the trap though?” She nods down at the creature you now refuse to look at. “They’ve got it the worst. Suffocation, dehydration, the ones who try to peel off and can’t, bleed out, stuck in place.”

With a sudden crunch, her boot slams down on the trap. You watch, slack jawed, as she peels it off the sole before tossing it in the bin in the corner.

“I’d take a quick death over either of those.”

“I think you should leave. Now.” You try to sound authoritative but your voice trembles too much to sound anything but afraid.

“I heard you got caught up in some FEDRA business yesterday.” She starts again but you’ve had enough.

“Tess.” You manage to have a bit of sterness this time in your tone but it doesn’t seem to affect her much.

“Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You catch that sympathetic look one more time before she unlocks the door chain, twisting the doorknob before speaking one last time. “I noticed some of our inventory is missing, this is the only warning you’re gonna get about that. If you want shit like that just ask, I’m sure Joel would be more than happy to have another way to control you.” She doesn’t turn around when she says it, simply slamming the door and leaving. You have no clue what she’s talking about, but that isn’t the part of the conversation that sticks with you. All you can think about is that crunching sound.

So you avoided her after that, writing off her words as an act of jealousy.

Joel would never do anything to hurt you.

Of course you know better now. She was just like you, she had been in the glue trap herself when she tried to keep you from joining her, but you hadn’t listened, instead you’d fallen face first into Joel. And he wouldn't let you go without keeping some of you for himself.

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daechwitatamic · 9 months ago

Text

Vice;Grip || chapter 2 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: depiction of a depressive episode, recreational drinking and bar scenes, allusion to oral (f. receiving), kissing, rough sex/man-handling, explicit penetrative sex, dirty talk, aftercare, didn't venture fully into writing dom!vernon but i have been informed i wrote something that might be in the realm of a dom drop, language obviously, reader is called a gendered slur by a stranger, law-breaking :), actual fluff for a second, allusions to drug use, car sex

wc: 6900

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

1 yr, 5 months ago

The onset of spring brought a lack of color. Grey clouds hung full and heavy, low over the city skyline. Grey crept into the corners of your apartment, darkening rooms during daytime so that you needed to keep lamps on even in midafternoon. Grey crept over your body, into your limbs. Days stretched and nights inched; you only got out of bed because you had to feed the damn cat.

That's part of why you'd gotten the cat in the first place, after a particularly long episode a few years ago, when Chan had presented you with a list of things he thought you should do to combat the blues, as he'd put it.

He meant well. But he always came at your depression like a problem solver, like just doing the right things could make it go away.

And sure, his suggestions were things that would help - get outside, call someone, don't isolate, shower even if you aren't leaving the house, drink some damn water - they weren't a cure. They were better reminders for when you were okay - good at keeping you okay for longer stretches. But when it was already too late, when the grey came, they all sounded fucking pointless.

Anyway. The cat had been a good idea.

is it bad??

Chan did his best. He was a good best friend. He just didn't understand it.

The answer to his question, you thought, as you flipped your phone over so you wouldn't see the notification if he followed up, was yes. Yes, this time was particularly bad. But you didn't have the energy to type those three words.

Terrible friend, your brain accused, and it was right.

You managed to drag yourself to work, to at least show up so you could continue to pay for your apartment and your damn cat, but not much else. You existed on cans of diet coke and microwave meals. You doom-scrolled until sunrise, then slept an hour or two at most before getting dressed for work. You left texts unanswered, the mail piled up. So did the dishes.

Chan came by, once, did your dishes for you. It made you feel worse - useless and pitiable. You'd rather he just go away, but you held it in; you knew that would only hurt his feelings.

You learned from your mistakes, one thing that could be said in your favor.

“Have you called your doctor?” he wanted to know.

What was the point? There wasn't a stop hating your life pill.

“What if you tried painting?” he asked.

“What if you just let me be?” you countered, finally tripping over the line from embarrassed apathy to defensiveness.

That pout again. “It might help,” he said. “Don't most famous artists do their best shit when they're down?”

“Get out,” you deadpanned. He dropped it, knowing this was a bigger issue, a bigger argument, than this current episode, a complex situation that went beyond the boundaries of your brain chemistry.

He put the last of your now-clean plates away. “Let's go somewhere,” he suggested.

“Chan,” you groaned. “I’m tired. I can't go gallivanting -”

“You're not tired, you're depressed,” he argued. “And going outside will help you.”

“I might have to kill you,” you said seriously, and he rolled his eyes.

In the end, he let you win. He'd been around long enough to know that eventually you'd venture outside again, hit the bars with him again, text first again, laugh at his stupid memes again. It was just a waiting game.

Still, when he left, you sat on the edge of your couch with your chin in your hands. On the living room rug, the cat rolled and showed you its belly.

“Not you, too,” you groused.

The cat did a few alligator rolls and then scampered into your bedroom and under the bed, as if chased.

You sighed. You made your way to the spare room, which had been shut - to keep the cat out. To keep your ghosts in.

Your easel was still set up in the corner. You were kind of surprised it wasn't covered in cobwebs. You'd been sketching just on paper last time you'd worked, trying to make decisions that way so you wouldn't waste a canvas, and it still sat there.

You inched closer, ran your hands over your brushes. Took a step back, eyed the paper and your sketches.

It was bad. Thank god you hadn't put it to canvas.

You pulled the paper down, crumpled it in your hands. You chased the cat out with a gentle nudge of your foot, and closed the door again, keeping both cats and ghosts on their respective sides of the door.

There was no rhyme or reason to your brain, no map or calendar to follow for the starts or stops. But eventually, the clouds broke. The grey gave way to baby buds of green, yellows pushed through soil, determined to meet the sun.

You texted Chan - drinks??

He responded - about time!!!

You texted Vernon - hello, its me

When he didn't answer, you tried again - sorry for the radio silence.

Still nothing.

You checked his socials, saw that he'd been doing his thing - a smattering of selfies, some group shots with the guys he played music with sometimes, a few nature shots: the moon, once, and what looked like the river at night.

The silence stretched. You gave up, considered it over. Grieved a little, because it had been good.

You went out on a night that teased summer even though it was months away, sank into the familiar blur of too many shots - not enough to be a problem, but maybe enough to make problems.

Under the club's ever-moving lights, you took a selfie, your drink and cleavage both showcased in the shot.

Send it to Vernon, the urge to make trouble suggested, and you listened without hesitation.

And - finally - an answer.

come here after??

You smiled a tiny, victorious smile and knocked back the rest of your drink.

omw.

Later, he gave you a rare and devastating pout as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smoothed fingers down the still-shaking inside of your thigh.

“What'd you make me wait so long for?” he complained, those sharp eyes sparkling with mirth. When you shrugged, still a little mindless from your high, he gave the same spot on your thigh a playful slap. “Don't do it again.”

1 yr, 4 months ago

busy tonight?

not busy but.

???

not in the best mood.

bet i could fix that.

yeah. idk.

why don't you let me try?

“What's wrong?” you cooed, teasing, when Vernon let you into the apartment.

He didn't smile, didn't play along, and it sobered you quickly.

“Don't want to talk about it,” he muttered, crowding into your space. “Wasn't that big of a deal anyway.”

Just want the fix you promised, he thought.

You moaned like liquid gold when his first kiss was a bite. Encouraged, Vernon gripped you by the shoulders, pushing you back against the wall hard enough that he heard your breath escape in a single huff. He hesitated, eyes searching your face; a question.

You lifted your chin, eyes shining with something hard. When he kissed you again, you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, hard enough to make him hiss; an answer.

His pace was frenzied from the start, your legs around his waist and the wall holding you up. His hand curled around your throat, not squeezing, but sliding up to grip at your jaw instead, keeping you from tilting your head back, closing your eyes, losing yourself in how he felt slamming his hips flush against yours with dizzying smacks.

When you whined that you were close, he pulled you away from the wall and lowered you both to the ground, the wooden floor of his entryway cold and hard beneath your spine. It didn’t matter, didn’t do anything to stop the vortex tightening below your stomach. You slapped a hand over your face as it distorted in pleasure, Vernon kneeling between the legs you still had gripping his waist, one of his hands braced on the floor next to your head, holding his body over you.

“That’s right,” he breathed, gritted teeth flashing over you, forehead wrinkling as his own release closed in on the chase. “Just fucking take it when I fuck you into the floor.”

Then he was pulling out, breaths hissing through his teeth as he straightened up, one hand pumping himself furiously until strings of white decorated your stomach, cooling immediately in the apartment’s chilly air.

His breathing was ragged as he sagged back onto his heels, and you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him warily.

Then he stood and slipped into the hallway bathroom, the light clicking on and illuminating the unlit entryway where you’d just fucked. You heard the sink run, then shut back off, and Vernon returned. He knelt gingerly - you could see his knees were red from kneeling on the wooden floor - and cleaned your stomach first, then gently between your legs.

You sat the rest of the way up then, watching him carefully as he sat back on his heels again, avoiding your gaze. Something about the moment felt like a thing alive, unfurling between you like a casablanca lily under the refracted light of the moon.

You spoke at the same time.

“Vernon?”

“You okay?”

You swallowed, rubbed absently at your elbow where you’d smacked it on the floor during the position change.

“I’m fine,” you said tentatively. “Are you?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and then peering through his fingers at you for a second before dropping them again. “Thought I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I would have said something.”

He nodded, relief starting to bring feeling back to his hands again. He stood and reached a hand down for you. When you took it, he closed his fingers around yours and pulled you to your feet.

“I know we don’t usually do this,” you said, rubbing at the parts of you that had been on the floor - the backs of your legs, your ass, “but could I take a super fast shower before I go?”

“Yeah,” he said, so quickly that the word almost trips on itself. “Of course.”

He led you into the bathroom, rummaged in the disorganized linen closet for a clean towel, pressed it into your hands.

“If you need one, too,” you said easily, as he reached around you to turn the water on so it could heat up, “I don’t mind if you join me.”

He paused. “You sure?”

You shrugged, then leaned over to put your hand under the spray, testing to see if it was still cold. “It’s your shower.”

Under the stream of warm water, you turned to face him, front to front, looking up at him with clear eyes. Something in your expression was so open, Vernon couldn’t help but feel both the desire to step into the space you seemed to be offering him as well as the desire to get far, far away from it.

He’d been so angry before you’d texted, furious enough that he’d bruised his knuckles punching the doorframe; now, as the chemicals in his body settled down, he felt those knuckles throbbing. He was disgusted that he’d lost his temper, guilty that he’d taken any of that anger out on you, who had nothing to do with it.

He was scared of the desire he felt to be closer to you, just for tonight. Scared that fucking you hadn’t been enough to soothe whatever it was that roiled inside him, like it usually was. Scared that he felt like he needed more than sex to heal this particular burn.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and part of him thought he was apologizing in advance, like he knew already he’d run scared at some point. “For being so...”

He didn’t know what word fit best.

“I told you,” you said, pressing a little closer, “I would have said if I had a problem.”

“Okay,” he said, frowning a little. “If you’re sure.”

Then he reached over and brushed a thumb along your cheekbone, chasing away a rivulet of shower-water. You closed your eyes for a second, and he swore he could feel you lean into the touch, just slightly.

He didn’t know how to explain how he felt. Kind of like he’d done a hot-coal-walk; the exhaustion that came with an adrenaline crash, the vulnerability that came after facing down something big, that need - the burn inside him needing cool water before it could quiet down.

With the shower off, the silence in the bathroom was loud.

“Do you…” Vernon started, then stopped. His heart hammered, the adrenaline returning. He covered the moment by toweling his hair roughly and pulling his hands through the strands so they’d lay right. “Do you want to stay for a little bit? I was gonna order delivery, maybe watch something before I finish my assignment.”

He’d expected you to think about it, to turn it over in your mind the way you turn his things over in your careful hands, the way you turn him ass over head with just a smirk. Instead, you nodded right away.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was no big deal. Like you did this all the time. Maybe you did, just not with him. “I was starving, actually. I could stay for an hour or two.”

On his couch, the leftovers of the food scattered on his coffee table, you reached for his hand, ran a thumb imperceptibly along his purpled knuckles. You didn’t ask what happened, just brought them to your lips and pressed the lightest kiss before putting them down again and reaching for your noodles, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

That was when Vernon saw the potential of it, an entire picture, framed and labeled: you could hurt him so badly if he let you, if he let it get that far. For whatever it was that burned inside him, you were the cool water… but you could absolutely be gasoline, instead.

1 yr, 3 months ago

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the light that passed over your closed lids in a repetitive pattern was the sweep of a lighthouse beam. You could pretend that the rumbling bass of the music was the roar of the ocean. You could pretend that you weren’t here, in a shitty bar, but at the seaside. You could pretend that you weren’t alone. You could pretend that you weren’t you.

You drained your drink and caught the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another, sliding the sweating glass away from you once you knew a new one was coming.

“What are you drinking?”

The voice came from your right, and you lifted tired, disinterested eyes to find the source of it.

“G and T,” you answered, because it was one fewer syllable than saying gin and tonic and maybe that one syllable would do the dirty work for you and tell this guy that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Nice,” he said, like you’d said something interesting, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t return the question, just slid your phone screen on and opened your messages.

wyd

drinks at my hyungs place. wbu

damn. guess i have to settle for one of these very mid prospects at the willow

damn thats a sad story. if only you had a better option

if only my better option werent busy at his hyung’s

no one said i had to stay here. ur at the willow?

yep

The guy to your right tried again. “The DJ tonight kind of sucks, huh?”

You looked back at your phone.

don’t leave

You smiled into your drink, a thrill dancing through your bloodstream. The lights and music didn’t seem as garish as they had ten minutes ago.

“My boyfriend’s on his way to pick me up,” you said flatly to the guy who kept trying to talk to you, “so you might want to find someone else to complain about the DJ to.”

The word tasted like lemonade on your tongue - acidic and sour, sweet and refreshing, taste buds blooming and shriveling in tandem. Even the knowledge that it was a flat-out lie didn’t stop your heart from beating faster.

You expected the guy to get up and leave, maybe throw you a dirty look on his way. Instead, he seemed to call your bluff, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to read you.

“I don’t think I’d let my girlfriend go out alone looking like this,” he said evenly, and you let out a derisive laugh.

“The fact that you just said the words let my girlfriend probably has a lot to do with why you’re here alone,” you countered, a flash of victory slicing up your spine when you saw his face flush.

Before he could retort, you hopped down from your barstool, pushing your way into the crowded dance floor. You didn’t even want to dance, you just wanted to get away. If Vernon wanted to find you, he could come find you. He’d told you not to leave, he hadn’t said make it easy for me.

He found you anyway; he made it look easy. He stepped around a group of guys talking in a circle and into your space, like he was following a path, like he knew there’d be room for him.

You were happy to see him. You were happy he came. You were happy to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne and hear your name tumble from his mouth like a statement. You were too drunk to tuck these truths away into pockets and folds where they would be harder to find.

You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. If he was surprised, his body hid it well. His hands came to rest on your lower back, pressing you closer to him as you leaned up to find his mouth.

You kissed him slowly, at odds with the frantic bassline vibrating under your feet. You let him tip your head back, changing the angle, sweeping your mouth with his tongue until you both tasted lemonade.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his face, one eyebrow arched in question and one half of his mouth twitching into a smile.

You didn’t have it in you to lie, so instead you said, “Your place?”

He led you outside.

As luck would have it, the idiot from the bar stood beside the front door, a cigarette between two fingers. His expression darkened when he recognized you, then further when he saw your fingers linked with Vernon’s as you stepped into the quiet night.

“Your girlfriend’s a fucking bitch,” the guy bit out, dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it.

Vernon’s eyebrows shot up.

Evenly, he said, “She’s not -”

She’s not my girlfriend. You felt your stomach swoop, and you felt yourself flinch.

“- a bitch. She’s just smarter than you.”

Vernon tugged on your hand, leading you across the street to his parked, waiting car.

You tried to bite back a smile, and he looked sideways at you, his own lips twitching.

“What?” he demanded.

“What?” you parroted.

He scowled at you, but his lips were just smiling. “What?” he asked again.

You laughed. “Let’s go,” you said. “The bitch wants to kiss you more.”

You expected his smile to sharpen. Instead, something in it seems to soften, changing from teasing to actual affection.

“Alright,” he said, turning to start the engine. “Can’t really say no to that, can I?”

“You could,” you mused, as he pulled away from the curb and the bar slid into nothingness behind you, “but I just don’t think you should.”

1 yr, 2 months ago

wyd

melting

srsly

no, seriously. i am laying on my living room floor like a starfish trying not to turn into liquid

come to hyungs

its too hot to move

i have an idea, come meet me at hyungs

You frowned at your phone. Of course your aircon died during the only heatwave you could remember in your entire adult life. Your whole body felt sticky; you were pretty sure you were stuck to your floor.

It was too hot to move.

what’s the idea??

you’ll see. i’ll order u a car. can you bring a couple towels?

“Vernon, no,” you laughed, your voice echoing.

He shushed you through laughter, both of you leaning on each other as you stood at the edge of the yard, the grass tickling the bottoms of your bare feet. Upstairs, at his friend’s place, you’d thrown back a few shots for courage before following Vernon out here, and you were feeling them, your head swimming like your body might soon be.

“It’s a circuit, see?” he tried to explain, pointing through the night, as if you could see through all the fences and over all the hedges. “Five yards, five pools, and then we end up right back here and we get in the car and go. Just follow me, don’t stop for anything.”

“Someone’s gonna call the cops,” you complained. “And these neighborhoods all have cameras.”

“That’s why we keep moving,” he said, his grin so excited and so un-Vernon that you almost couldn’t bear to say no to him. “No one’s gonna call the cops if we’re already gone - it’s not worth it. You ready?”

You hesitated. “You’re good to drive us out of here?” you checked.

He held up his hands as if to show innocence. “Only had a beer,” he promised. “But I’ve got something fun in the car for after, if you want.”

You felt your grin turn wolfish. “Okay. I’m right behind you.”

“Try and be quiet,” he warned, then took off running across the yard, cannonballing into the pool with a splash.

You tore off after him, leaping into the water and suppressing a shriek when the cold water hit you. You felt instantly sober, jittery with adrenaline, alive with laughter. You spluttered your way to the surface and pushed water away from your eyes, trying to find him through the shadows.

He was already climbing out the other side, water running down his back, the muscle shifting in the half-light as he hoisted himself back onto the pool’s deck. You hurried across the pool, climbing up beside him, giggling wildly.

“Shhh,” he warned, but he was giggling too as he led you carefully over the fence to the next yard.

As soon as you crept close enough to the pool to jump, a motion-activated light came on, flooding the yard white and causing you to cover your eyes.

“Quick!” Vernon told you, grabbing your arm and pulling you in with him as he jumped.

You let out a stream of bubbles and water rushed into your mouth. You felt your feet hit the bottom and you pushed off hard, surfacing quickly.

Again, you followed him across the pool, both of you laughing and whispering, “Hurry! Quick!” as you climbed out and headed around the house to the front yard.

“Okay, this is the hard part,” he told you, both of you shivering as the night air caught up to you. “We have to cross the street, hop the fence, and then the pool is around back.”

“I’m ready,” you promised, with a particularly hard shiver.

You sprinted across the street, both leaving wet footprints on the pavement. His hand felt warm in yours when he helped you over the fence, warm on your body when he held your waist as you climbed down.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, but giggles still spilled out of you.

“More fun than melting, right?” he asked, and you thought that you’d seen him smile more tonight than in whole months of coming together at night.

You thought you might move mountains to see him smile like this again, gums showing, open and honest, happy.

Then you were underwater again, swimming hard to keep up, following Vernon through the night as he pushed his way through some hedges and held them apart for you.

You made it to the last house before someone caught you, slamming the back door open and shouting, “Hey!”

“Go, go, go!” Vernon cried, laughing with such abandon that it sounded like goose honks, pulling on your hand as you both stumbled, dripping, towards the car.

You’d set towels on the seats before starting, so you tumbled into the car and he peeled away, both of you laughing wildly as you left the neighborhood behind.

It was miles before you calmed down, gasping in breaths and trying to hold them before exploding into laughter again.

“I’d better not end up on the news,” you scolded. “I’m in my underwear.

He gave you a searing sideways look. “I noticed.”

You felt yourself warm again, despite being in soaking wet clothes.

“Where next?” you asked. “Home?”

He let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “I don’t really want to go home,” he admitted. Then, “I was having fun with you.”

You considered this. “Not to be a cliche, but… I know a place.”

The quarry was quiet, surrounded by only trees; without posted lights, everything seemed to be just varying shades of black - the black of the water just darker than the black of the stone ledges just darker than the walls of trees just darker than the sky sprinkled with stars above you.

“We have to be careful,” you warned him seriously. “If you slip and get hurt, it could be bad.”

He turned the flashlight on his phone on and set it next to the metal rungs that jutted out of the stone, a makeshift ladder for the swimmers who came here during the day, when swimming was allowed.

“It’s going to be way colder than the pools,” you added.

“You’re not selling this very well,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a chicken,” you teased.

He eyed the water. “I’m having second thoughts.”

You nudged him in the ribs, which caused him to squirm away, hands batting at yours, a noise emitting from him that made you laugh out loud.

“Are you ticklish?” you demanded. “How did I not know?”

“Come on, are we jumping or what?” he asked, laughing, still trying to keep your sneaky hands away from his ribs.

“Yeah, that’s probably the only way to actually get in,” you admitted, still laughing a little. Your abs felt a little sore from how much you’d laughed tonight.

You stood on the edge of the stone, toes curling over the ledge, Vernon’s hand tight in yours. You stood on the edge, the ink-like water beneath you rippling slightly, marring the reflection of the constellations high above you. You stood on the edge of something, knowing full well you were afraid to swim.

He counted you down, and together, you jumped.

The water was freezing - it hurt, it stung, and you shrieked and laughed as you surfaced. A foot from you, Vernon was shouting.

“The towels!” you told him, already swimming towards the little dot of light that marked the ladder.

Shaking and shivering, you reached your towel, wrapping it around yourself. Behind you, Vernon jogged up, making noises like a disgruntled horse as he found his own towel.

“Oh my god,” he groused, grabbing for you. “I’m freezing, come here.”

He opened his arms, the towel behind him like a wingspan, and you stepped into the space, letting him wrap his arms and his towel around you. You stood shivering together, trying to let your body heat chase the cold away.

You wrapped your own arms around his middle, pressing yourself closer as your legs shook, shivers rolling up your spine in waves as your body fought the chill.

“C’mere,” he murmured above you, holding you a little more tightly, his own teeth chattering.

It was the first time, you realized as you turned your head to rest your cheek on his chest, that you’d held each other. It was the first time you’d been between his arms when you weren’t fucking, the first time he’d tightened his grip around you for a reason other than gratification.

You didn’t want it - didn’t want to know that it felt nice in his embrace, didn’t want to know that it fit right and felt safe. You didn’t want to know that you liked it, didn’t want to have to fight against the humiliation of wanting more.

As soon as the full-body tremors died away in the warm, sticky night, you stepped away, eager to put distance between you again.

Later, he looked over at you from the driver’s seat of the car, red-eyed, his smile stretching slow and thick like putty. When you straddled his lap, his hands searching out the bare skin of your back, you rocked against him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of his pretty throat until you were pulling groans from him with each pass of your hips.

Forget, you thought, as you pulled your underwear to the side for him. Forget every single thing but this.

When you slipped an arm behind his neck and pressed your foreheads together as you lifted and dropped, you weren’t sure whose memory you were hoping to erase with this most recent pleasure-chase: yours, or his.

1 yr, 1 month ago

There was no map or calendar to this thing your brain did. It was summer, the sun shone, and yet the days bled together again, sunsets swirling down the shower drain.

The last time you’d gone radio silent, the last time your world had gone grey without warning, Vernon had answered in kind. His own silence had shouted for him until you’d tempted him back.

This time, he didn’t resort to silence in retaliation to yours. Instead, he kept trying, relentless. If you’d had more presence of mind, you might have wondered why.

wyd

[ ]

yo. whats the deal

[ ]

i will have you know that this is very insulting

[ ]

don’t get mad but im coming over

“What the fuck, Vernon.”

“I said don’t get mad.”

“It doesn’t work like that. What are you doing here?”

He leveled you with a look. “You gonna let me in?”

“Literally, no.”

You hadn’t showered in days; your apartment was probably grosser than you were. The cat milled around your ankles, trying to weasel its way outside, and you hopped from foot to foot trying to nudge it back inside.

“Why not?” he asked.

You huffed, annoyed. But the annoyance was the first thing you’d felt all day, and something inside you clung to it, desperate for more of anything but the crawling nothing that’s kept you company for days.

“Because,” you grumbled. Because there’s nothing for you here. Because I have nothing I can give you. “I’m… just not in the mood.”

He stepped back from the door so you could see more of him. “I’m not asking you to be.”

“Then why are you here?” The words fell between you, heavy. If you hadn’t been so low, if you hadn’t gone all day without eating, if you hadn’t been on your thirtieth hour without sleeping, you would have known better. You would have realized that you were asking, if you aren’t here for sex, then what are you here for?

You wouldn’t have asked a question that you didn’t want the answer to.

He met your eyes. He seemed to teeter on the edge of telling you the truth, giving you the real answer. Then, he muttered, “Got bored.”

You knew it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew you knew it, and yet neither of you were willing to look at it directly.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He watched you for what felt like a long time, face serious, eyes glittering and attentive. Then, instead of answering, he repeated, “Are you gonna let me in?”

You frowned at him, but there was a little more pout to it than anger. “I’m all gross,” you said, instead of answering.

Something in him softened - it was visible on his face, in his shoulders, like he knew this was your way of saying yes. “So let’s shower,” he suggested quietly.

You felt trepidation, like part of you expected him to stay soft, to try to take care of you. To your relief, Vernon acted like everything was normal, scrunching his face at you when the water was too cold as he stepped in, washing his own body in silence and letting you do your thing.

He didn’t try to hold you, didn’t ask you when you’d eaten last, didn’t try to talk about it - didn’t try to fix it. He was just… there, and this - along with your first shower in days - was somehow revitalizing in itself.

You pulled on clean sweats, which was better than the day-four sweats he’d found you in. “The apartment’s kind of… sorry,” you mumbled, looking around the living room, feeling a bit of that familiar shame crawl up your neck as you noticed the evidence that you hadn’t been picking up, or running a vacuum.

Vernon flopped backwards on your sofa, unphased, one arm bent behind his head. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year,” he pointed out. “I know how it usually is.”

It isn’t usually like this. And neither are you.

You wondered when it happened - your ability to finish his half-thoughts, your ability to know what he meant when he only said a fraction of it.

You stood awkwardly beside the couch where he was lounging, and he looked up at you with a tiny, amused smile.

“What do you wanna do?”

What you really wanted to do was cocoon yourself in blankets again and put on repeats of a show you’d already seen. But now you had to look functional. You might be mad at him for showing up like this, now that you thought about it.

“I dunno,” you said, which was close to the truth.

“You wanna eat?”

“Honestly?” you asked, pursing your lips a little. “No.”

“Okay,” he said easily, and it struck you again how different this was than how Chan treated you when you were low. Chan would have already had the food delivered, and would be chasing you around the table with loaded chopsticks, demanding you take a bite.

“Can we just… watch something?” you asked, unsure.

Vernon wordlessly reached for your remote and held it up to you, nonplussed.

You wondered if it was an act, how easy this was, how unbothered he was, how he seemed to just understand what wouldn’t help.

You knew it wasn’t; you’d been around long enough to know that Vernon’s demons weren’t all that different from yours.

You settled somewhere between his body and the back of the couch, one leg bent over his legs, one of your arms over his stomach and his arm curled around your shoulders.

“This is weird,” you muttered into his chest, and his laugh rumbled under you.

“Why?” he asked, his smile big, like he thought you were particularly funny. “Not used to being big spoon?”

Not used to cuddling - with you.

“Yeah,” you said, because that was easier.

On your TV, a show ran through several episodes, the changing scenes splashing you and Vernon with changing colors, casting his face blue and then white and then black and then red and then blue again. Sometimes he’d watch, sometimes he’d scroll on his phone. You mostly felt his heart beating under your hand and let your mind whir.

At some point he started mindlessly (or not mindlessly, who could know) stroking your back, gentle touches brushing up and down, slow, slow, the way he always was. At some point you shivered, goosebumps rising along your arms, and snuggled closer to him. At some point he shifted you from slightly beside him to on top of him, a second hand slipping under your loose tshirt and joining the first in tracing stripes up and down your upper back.

You shifted against him, something coming to life with a shudder like the furnace in your parent’s basement on cold autumn nights. Heat worked its way slowly from your core to your stomach, down your legs.

He kept his eyes on the tv, innocent, but you could hear his heartbeat. It couldn’t lie and pretend.

You shifted again, squirming until you’d worked his t-shirt up just enough that you could touch skin, too. You trailed your own fingers over the inch of exposed stomach you’d found, and delighted in the way you could feel him start to harden beneath you.

Then, you delighted in your delight. It was the first good thing you’d been able to feel in almost a week.

You said his name, and he finally looked down at you, eyes nearly black in the unlit room.

“What is it?” he asked, and his voice was suddenly so low it sent shivers tumbling down each vertebrae and tripping over to your limbs. “Want me to make you feel good?”

No, you wanted to say as you answered his question by pulling the hem of his t-shirt higher, encouraging him to lift up so you could pull it off. No, just want you to make me feel.

1 year ago

Everywhere Vernon looked, all he saw was circles. Circle of red in his bowl when he inhaled. Circle of condensation on the table when he lifted his beer. Circle of light reflecting from his phone case, laying in the setting sunlight, to the ceiling. Above him, the ceiling fan circled lazily, nowhere to be.

And you - you and him. That was a circle, too. A cycle, at least, which was close enough in his opinion. Text, hook up, skitter back to your respective places, wait out the next weekend. It was as rhythmic and routine as waves breaking and then getting pulled back out only to come shatter on sand again. It was out of his control, up to forces far greater than he was.

Vernon’s friends had texted to hang out and he’d declined. He told them he was seeing his parents, but really, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to watch the ceiling fan circle, he wanted to let his brain go staticky quiet, he wanted to burrow deep into things that made him feel less.

But he still, somehow, wanted to see you. He wanted to be alone, and being with you didn’t feel like not getting that.

It was a little scary, he thought, that you were the exception. That he could be with you without feeling the uncomfortable pressure of being with others, of having to be on, of having to fake cheerfulness and keep up with chatter that only exhausted him.

Vernon wasn’t a kid. He knew what it meant.

whats up

honestly not a lot. want me to come over?

Yeah, he did. He did, even if you weren’t going to hook up. He did, even if you were just going to lay on opposite sides of the couch and scroll on your phones. He did, and he hoped he’d end up with his arms around you, and he hoped he’d make you laugh at least once, and he hoped you’d stay and just be there with him after.

When you came over, he asked you how you felt about it - about him, about you and him. He asked by laying you on your back in his bed, by brushing fingertips along your face. He asked you by sliding your leggings away gently, pressing his mouth to each inch of your inseam as it became exposed to his dimly lit room. He asked you by kissing you through the lace you wore for him, then kissing the same spot once that lace was on his floor.

He asked you when he crawled up your body until his tip teased at your entrance and you whined, shifting to try to take him. And - when he took it slow this time, teeth scraping at your neck and then tongue hurrying to soothe the sting, his arms bracketing your body like he was sheltering you from an incoming storm.

(Maybe, he considered, he was.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was worthless in the face of this storm’s wrath.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was the fucking storm in the first place.)

And you heard his question loud and clear. You pulled on your leggings as soon as you were cleaned up, popping your hood up over your head as you searched for your phone. You kept your eyes on your screen as you waited for a car to come, murmured, “Later,” on your way out the door.

Vernon’s apartment rang with quiet. He was alone, he’d gotten what he’d wanted.

He’d also, it seemed, gotten his answer.

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thank you so much for reading!!! i'm always happy to hear what you think!

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asher-agere · 2 months ago

Note

Eheh,, is it okay to request some regressor An?

(I may have plot idea where she's in carese Cafe after a bad day and didn't wanted to bother vbs and Meiko went ahead and took care of her maybe..)

(bpd an (split episode = feeling bad) and Meiko reminding an of nagi too.. Maybe..)

I MIGHT BE GETTING TOO SPECIFIC SO YOU CAN REMOVE ANYTHING YOU WANT!! SORRY!!

I can absolutely give this a shot! Warning though! I do not have Borderline Personality Disorder! What I write will be based solely on research I’ve done, as usual if I write anything inaccurate or offensive please let me know and I’ll fix the problem as quickly as possible!

BPD Little An + Caregiver Meiko!

°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི An having a bad day leads to her being very fussy. Every little thing upsets her and no matter how small it is she has a meltdown. Something small started it probably. Maybe her dad suddenly had to go do something instead of helping her like he said he would. Suddenly An feels 6 years old again and she hates her father and no matter how far away she runs it doesn’t feel like she’s ever far with away

⭑.ᐟ She thinks about talking to her friends! She really really does. She knows that they’re there for her and that they want to help but… Would they even be able to help? She’d be reaching out to them just to end up wasting their time when they inevitably fail to help her. That was a bad idea. No one wanted that, just a dumb waste of time. She wants… She wants Aunt Nagi. Aunt Nagi was good. Not bad like she was

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི An eventually ends up going to the Sekai! It’s away from everyone so she’s not being a bother. But of course the Virtual Singers are there… An almost immediately gets overwhelmed. She makes it to the doorway and just sort of freezes. Rin and Len are yelling at Kaito, Miku is trying to calm everyone down but not very successfully, Meiko is behind the counter cleaning things up. Luka is nowhere to be seen, of course one of the actual calmest ones is missing…

⭑.ᐟ An is very pouty and grumpy. Miku tries greeting her, and she ignores it. Kaito goes to ask how she’s doing and that only makes Rin and Len yell at him even louder. Poor An can only cover her ears, going over to the bar and sitting down. Looks are exchanged between Kaito and Meiko and Kaito shuffles the kids out, leaving just An and Meiko at the bar

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི An continues ignoring Meiko, just trying to bury her face into her arms and disappear. Meiko determines her best approach and makes some angel milk. An seemed off, which could mean she’s regressed, best to ask though. So she gently asks An what cup she’d like. She immediately, without being prompted to, apologizes for bothering An and explains that she thought some warm milk might help

⭑.ᐟ When An looked up she was preparing to scream and throw a fit, there were already tears in her eyes. But… Meiko was being so soft. So gentle. For a second she swore that it was Aunt Nagi, crouching down next to her and asking her what she wanted to do. The screams die in her throat. Instead she quietly requests a sippy cup, and Meiko is happy to comply. She transfers the milk to a child appropriate cup before handing it over to An

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི That was the moment, Meiko asking An what cup she wanted, that made An’s feelings click into place. Meiko was good. Meiko was calm and gentle and perfect. She wanted Meiko. Meiko just smiles at her and starts getting information “How old are you feeling?” “Would you like a snack?” “What toys do you want to play with?” “How about I turn on some music for you?” Meiko asks all these wonderful questions in her gentle voice and An feels compelled to answer her

⭑.ᐟ When Meiko asked the questions An was fine with everything! But when Meiko went to go get things… Everything was suddenly not fine. An hasn’t realized Meiko would need to focus on other stuff. That wasn’t fair. She wanted Meiko’s attention. Why did everyone always have more important stuff? Was it so selfish to want someone’s full attention for a little bit? She tried drawing Meiko’s attention back to her but Meiko only responded with a simple “One second darling”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི This was not what An wanted to hear. Her perspective changed. Meiko was bad. Meiko was the worst person on the planet in fact. Meiko knew she was mentally a baby right now, and she’d still ignored her? What kind of horrible person did that? So An just got down from her seat and… Slipped away. She didn’t want to be around such a mean person

⭑.ᐟ An hides for awhile in a little storage closet. But eventually Meiko finds her. She opens the door just enough to slide in the sippy cup and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. An doesn’t say a word, but she does accept the snacks. They sit there in silence for awhile until Meiko gently starts singing a lullaby. A lullaby that An’s mentioned before is from her childhood. Specifically from her favorite person from her childhood. Aunt Nagi. Their voices are vastly different, but they sing it the same way…

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Slowly, ever so slowly, An warms up to Meiko again. She finishes her snacks still in the closet, then slowly crawls out, laying her head in Meiko’s lap. Meiko just smiles and combs through her hair. Once An is calmer Meiko can scoop her back up! She makes sure to carry the little one everywhere, constantly showering her in praise and catering to An’s every desire. Some babies need to cry it out. An is the kind of baby that needs to be dotted on though

°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

This reads more like a story than headcanons? Idk what I was doing here really if I’m honest- This was mainly just be trying to get a grasp on how someone with bpd would act, I feel like I still didn’t do great (╥_╥)

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genshin-obsessed · 2 years ago

Text

Him As a Fake Boyfriend | Genshin Impact

✧ So, my inspiration is from a movie, there are so many like these and they're always fun to me, sooooo I wrote about it! I hope you like it! The "plot" is generic, don't mind me. Also, usually I'll have a template for consistency but I didn't really come up with one here- sorry, I just really wanted to write it lol.

✧ Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Thoma, Wanderer, Tighnari, Kaveh

✧ Extra: As per usual, (w/n) stands for wanderer's name in the event you wanna use the one you chose

Your sister is getting married, so of course you would be attending. The problem was... your ex was going to be there as well. As much as you disliked them, you had to attend. You had already lied a few times to your family that you did, indeed, have a boyfriend and planned a whole breakup story before actually attending the wedding. That's when your sister mentioned to you that your ex was attending.

Of course, she also told you to bring your boyfriend so that you could show him off. One problem: you didn't have one. So what was your plan?

You were going to hire one.

✧✧ Diluc ✧✧

Well, you're bold to approach him to be your fake boyfriend. You two were... barely friends, really. So he flat out rejected you the first time you asked.

You had to give him a whole explanation, practically begging him to reconsider. It took a while, but he finally accepted, declining when you said you'd pay him.

He told you to consider it a favor, and that he'll definitely be asking for one back in the future. You agreed- seeing as how you had little choice you had.

Diluc is pretty good at faking it. He's the type that keeps around you, comes up with replies really fast. He's good at remembering everything- all the information you gave him.

Definitely a no-nonsense boyfriend. If you're lying to yourself, he'll let you know. He also makes sure to remind you that you lying to everyone won't help either and it's best to resolve the issue quickly.

However, he also plays his role really well. There are no slipups, he's super confident, and he definitely scares your ex. The glares he sends your ex's way are just... so good.

You can help but be attracted to Diluc toward the end... he was pretty amazing...

✧✧ Kaeya ✧✧

He is definitely smirking and making assumptions on why you came to him, specifically. Of course, he teased you for a few minutes but eventually agreed. However, you'd owe him now.

He sat you down somewhere private and asked you seriously why you were asking for this. You gave him a quick rundown of the situation and he listened quietly before affirming that he'd be helping.

He's good at memorizing all your family members names, their faces, likes, dislikes, all that. You give him a lengthy speech before getting to the town where the wedding was going to be.

Kaeya is really good at calming you down, making sure to say the right things when any family member upsets you. He's not all that intimidating at first glance and he's ok with that.

He keeps your ex away by being all over you. The second your ex is even approaching you, Kaeya's arm is around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and kissing your cheek.

Honestly, your entire family is convinced Kaeya is so head over heels for you and keeps telling you that you should marry him soon. Of course, Kaeya happily agrees to it in front of them, but says nothing afterward.

At the end of the day, this was just a fake boyfriend situation. Or was it?

✧✧Thoma✧✧

You and Thoma weren't the closest, but you knew of him and so... you tried anyway. Thoma was shocked for sure and a little unsure at first. But you needed help so... he agreed. He wanted you to keep the money, but you insisted, telling him to just treat it like a job since you two weren't that close.

He had little to no trouble remembering names, likes, dislikes, and problematic people. You explained that some family members were really obnoxious and sometimes got into arguments with one another or insulted you.

Thoma memorized everyone and assured you it would be fine. You also gave him an explanation on that dumb ex of yours. Thoma picked up on your discomfort and touched your shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

You two were staying in a family member's large home, in which you and Thoma shared a room. He offered to sleep on the floor but you didn't mind sharing the bed.

Everyone LOVES him. He's entertaining, kind, sweet, and very comforting. If someone says something that upsets you, he makes an excuse to pull you away and immediately says the opposite. Someone makes fun of you? He's telling you how gorgeous you look.

Your ex can't even get a minute with you. The second they look at you and are coming over, Thoma's grabbing your arm and taking you somewhere else.

He's the comforting boyfriend and it almost makes you a little sad when you're both heading back because you know this charade will be over soon. But it was definitely fun while it lasted. Maybe.. you might ask him out to a real date soon.

✧✧Wanderer✧✧

First of all, why him? Second, he wants that payment upfront. Every mora. He's rolling his eyes the entire time you're explaining why you wanted him to help you.

However, he does listen well when you're telling him names and personalities. He asks questions and makes sure he remembers everything to keep from embarrassing you.

He... doesn't stand for anyone making fun of you. Old friends, family, that dumbass ex. Right now, you're his and no one's gonna insult what belongs to him.

It was actually endearing. He may have been a bit too aggressive, but the way he defended you almost made you feel sad you weren't actually with him.

He's, of course, the no no-nonsense boyfriend, letting you know if you're being a doormat for everyone. He is, however, encouraging. Telling you what to do to actually be happy- as an unbiased party watching you crash and burn. That made you laugh for sure.

Your ex had managed to pull you away for a minute, telling you that they were better than (w/n) and that's when your "boyfriend" swooped in. Pretty much insulted and threatened your ex before dragging you off.

All in all, you enjoyed the wedding with (w/n)- a lot more than you thought you would. You were almost tempted to ask him out on a real date. He might've even said yes, who knows...

✧✧Tighnari✧✧

Tighnari thought it was a joke at first and actually laughed before his smile faltered and he apologized. You explained the whole reason- practically holding nothing back.

Tighnari felt bad so he agreed, he also insisted you keep your money. You explained that you'd need to stay at your family's home for a few days and he agreed to that too.

You two went through the family names and all that- but he almost made a point to ask what you were comfortable with. Hugs, kisses, PDA- all that. You knew there wasn't much of a choice, you two needed to look like a genuine couple... so everything was ok.

Tighnari's interactions with your family made him seem like he fit in almost perfectly. Your family loved him, but there were some that were skeptics. Especially your ex. Tighnari simply explained you were a new couple, so you two were still getting used to one another.

He took really good care of you. He made sure you didn't drink too much, he kept you from anyone who didn't like you, countered any insult that was thrown your way, and was just so perfect.

He showed his affection through touches and light kisses, rubbing your wrist before grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. The event went so smoothly with him there.

At the end of it, you were quite sad that you weren't actually with him. You made sure to thank him repeatedly but he only chuckled and waved it off, saying he had fun. You heavily debated asking him out right then and there.

✧✧Kaveh✧✧

Kaveh... wasn't sure. Pretending to be your boyfriend? That would just lead to more problems. Especially if he slipped up. He refused at first, but you really asked him.

He was dead set on rejecting you but when your eyes met his and he saw that desperation in there, he kinda froze up. You really needed help and what kind of man would he be to turn you down? So, he agreed- but he didn't want to be paid for it.

Learning about your family was hard, especially in one day. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't give it his darndest, but he couldn't remember them all before the day you were supposed to be at the family home.

Even if he couldn't remember them all, Kaveh has a very shiny personality and easily won your entire family over. He was so easy going, such a goof, and really kind! Your ex, however, didn't like him.

That was the entire point, every time he talked near your ex, Kaveh just went on tirades about how perfect you were for him and how lucky of a man he was to have such a sweet person loving him. Honestly, your family was already planning your wedding while still at your sister's wedding!

He was definitely the sweet, touchy boyfriend. He always had an arm around you, he often gave you kisses, don't forget dance practice! Honestly, he had so much fun- even if half of it was fake. Before you two knew it, the wedding was over and you were headed back.

You really had fun and throughout the party you kept comparing Kaveh to your ex. He was so much better- kinder, more fun, more loving, even if it was fake. There was a dull ache in your chest as you were going home and you were heavily debating on whether or not you should ask him out for real.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin kaeya x reader #genshin thoma x reader #genshin tighnari x reader #genshin wanderer x reader #genshin kaveh x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #🖊─ pocky’s writings

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snorky · 9 months ago

Note

hi, so idk if u still write for canucks nils hoglander, so if you don't im so sorry for bothering you. if you do, would you be able to write an imagine where nils is interested in one of the canucks employees, like social media or reporter and is trying to ask her out but fails multiple times before eventually with some help asking her out?

You're A Forbidden Delicacy, And I Won't Leave A Crumb

Hey y’all! And hello to the lovely requester! I still do write for Nils, so thank you for the request (which I really love and got carried away with). I really apologize to everyone for how long this has taken me, my life has been all over the place and I am still trying to get things sorted out, but I truly, from the bottom of my heart appreciate the patience you all have. This is a Nils Höglander fic, with a F!Reporter!Reader, which is a little longer than what my stories are normally. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and please remember to take care of yourself!

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Nils Höglander x F!Reader

Warnings: Romantic tension, kissing? (Let me know if I need to add anything)

—

A knock was heard on the door to her office, where she was deep in her work preparing for tonight’s game, followed by the familiar voice of her colleague and friend.

“Hey lovely! Here are the spreadsheets and rundown of the stats from the last three games,” her friend said, setting a few papers on her desk.

She smiled back and felt a wave of relief. “Thank you,” she sighed. “I was wondering when the stats would come in from my favorite data analyst.”

“Oh, stop,” she chuckled. “You know how playoffs are.”

She nodded in agreement, noticing that the energy within the air, and more specifically, the arena, was more electrifying than ever.

Looking up from the documents, she saw one of the players walk by the door, giving her a smile and a friendly wave before walking off. She knew him, Nils Höglander, but she had only had small-talk and nothing more.

Her friend looked over her shoulder, a knowing smile appearing on her face. “Someone caught your eye?”

The blush on her face seemed to intensify, almost shamefully like a kid caught with candy. “No—” Taking a quick sip of her water, she hoped that the warmth on her face eased up.

“Alright, take it easy, go Canucks!” she cheered as she walked out of the office.

A smile made its way to her face as she turned back to her work. “Go Canucks!”

An hour or two passed by as she worked on reading the documents, preparing how she was going to announce the pregame reports, and making sure everything was finalized and set.

It was a fun, fast-paced job that kept her on her toes constantly, and she thrived in it, living in the rush and wanting more of the adrenaline. More rowdiness from the fans, more chants and cheers, and more passion from the city that was hungry for a cup.

“Hello?”

She drew her attention away from her laptop and towards her door, where she saw Quinn standing there, gear still on from the morning skate and practice.

“Hi Quinn, how can I help you?”

He scanned her desk, seemingly searching for something before his eyes landed on her coffee.

“What’s your go-to Tim’s order?” he asked.

She looked at him quizzically, wondering why he asked such a question out of the blue, but didn’t think too much about it. “Vanilla latte, why?”

“Nothin’” he shrugged, clearly more than nothing. “Have a nice day.” He walked away with a sly smile, making her more confused than nothing.

“You…too, Quinn,” she said, looking at her coffee with suspicion.

As she took a sip, it tasted the same still, maybe a little more room temperature, but nothing odd or wrong.

A few more hours passed, and before she knew it, the clock was counting down till puck drop. The arena already felt alive, the familiar blue and green decor that hung around her office reminding her.

She got up from her desk, making her way out of her office as her shoes tapped on the floor, echoing down the hall. Having all the important information and stats in her mind, she felt confident about how tonight’s game will go.

When she made it near the rink, she was greeted by a few other of her co-workers, as well as the media crew for the team, gear and equipment and smiles all set. The ice in the rink looked fresh and crisp, ready for a tough game.

“Ready for Game Six?” One of her co-workers asked.

She smiled and straightened up her posture, pride swelling within her. “Born ready. Go ‘Nucks.”

As the camera went live, everything else came naturally to her. The confidence, the excitement, and the adrenaline.

“Welcome back to Rogers Arena everyone, where tonight, the Canucks will face off again against the Nashville Predators in Game Six of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, hoping to eliminate the Predators, and advance to the second round.”

The arena started to fill up with fans, mainly fans of the Canucks, but there were a few Predators jerseys spread throughout.

Skaters headed out onto the ice, preparing to warm up as the arena cheered for each side, hoping that their team would win tonight’s game.

Adrenaline. Euphoria. Pride. So many emotions swelling inside of her, and she felt so alive and yet lost in a dream.

“As the Canucks hope to grab a win, the spotlight stands on the top players, with Boeser having four goals in this post-season, all within the past three games, and J.T. Miller with six points, pushing the Canucks forward in the playoffs,”

The statistics sounded impressive, and even on paper they looked unbelievable, but it was the Canucks, and she saw the potential long ago as they were developing.

One player especially caught her eye, but she would never admit to who, because it was mainly extremely unprofessional of her, and also because of the complications it could bring up.

And as if the devil cursed her thoughts, she met his eyes as the media crew was moved behind the bench, sharing a smile as he went and got a quick sip of his water before skating back out onto the ice.

“Hoping Höglander scores huh?”

She turned her head quickly to the voice her friend before turning away, hoping she didn’t see the blush that was dusted on her cheeks.

“Best hope is that every Canuck scores one,” she laughed, trying to push the topic somewhere else.

Her friend let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh gosh, and I’d be the one needing to calculate all the stats,”

As the warmups came to an end, a few of the players returned to the bench, Nils being one of them, and he gave her a quick smile and wave before refocusing on the game that his teammates were playing.

With quick plays and quick movements, the puck moved up and down the ice, from offense to defense, keeping everyone in the arena on their toes.

Fans roared with each close call, the atmosphere buzzing, static in the air, and before she knew it, the first intermission was starting.

The players poured into the tunnel, making their way back to the locker room after no goals from either team in the first period. Tensions still felt high, like a cord that could snap at any moment.

She waited out on the bench, fiddling with a pen and her notepad as her manager was trying to find one of the players to interview for a brief moment, hoping to get a word or two about the current game.

After a few minutes, she saw Brock walking out with her manager, a gentle expression on his face as usual.

The interview went smoothly as the rest of the night did, with one goal from the Canucks that led to a win as they advanced to the next round of the playoffs.

In the locker room afterwards, the place was rowdy, players and coaches celebrating their win with as much energy as they could. It set the stage for greatness, hope lingering in the air for a long playoff run.

Across the locker room from the doorway she stood under, her eyes met Nils, looking slightly disheveled, a mess even, but he still looked so, fulfilling. He smiled when he noticed her gaze, his eyes crinkling up.

And as the night eased in, the sky outside a crisp darkness, she walked to her car in the parking lot, her work bag slung over her shoulder as she was ready to go home, exhausted, but at ease.

A gentle smile was plastered on her face, gratitude for every little thing she worked so hard for to end up in the career field she was in, all the work paying off.

As she reached for the car door, she saw a figure walking towards her, at a rather quick pace, and she rushed to try and unlock the car.

The footsteps came closer, near stomping against the ground, and she felt panic.

“Hey! Wait, I need to talk to you!”

Turning her head quickly, her unease didn’t seem to dissipate despite the slightly familiar voice.

She unlocked her door frantically, got inside and locked it immediately, trying to recompose herself, still clutching her bag against her.

The man tapped on the window, causing her to lose the color in her face for a quick moment before realizing that it was Nils.

Letting out a breath, relief filled her, but she quickly started to scold him. “Nils, what the hell!”

“Sorry, sorry, I wanted to ask you a question,” he said sheepishly, voice muffled by the fact that he was outside.

She rolled down the window, a tight lipped smile on her face. “Yes?” Noticing how he seemed to fidget awkwardly, her expression slowly changed to concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me sometime, I’d like to get to know you more,”

His face was a pinkish tint, illuminated by the interior light of her car. A warm blush started to envelope her face at his question, but she knew it felt wrong.

“Nils, I’m sorry but as much as I would like that, it would be unprofessional for the both of us, and we could lose our job.” Her tone remained professional, but there was a twinge of somberness within it.

A disappointed, but understanding smile appeared on his face. “I get it.” He was still sweet as ever, and she even felt a little guilty at her answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright, have a good night Nils, you did great tonight,” she smiled.

Smiling back, he gave her a nod of appreciation. “You did as well. Have a good night,”

He walked away from her car, looking back only once to notice that she kept her eyes on him, but pulled away when he saw.

She drove away, off into the night where the traffic died down, and where the Vancouver glow was as dreamy as it always was to her, an ageless magic.

Morning came, sunrise bright and early as she arrived back at the arena. There was no game planned for the day, only practice and training to prepare for the next game.

As she walked down the hall to her office, she noticed that her door was open, despite having locked it the night before. The only people who were also in the arena as early as her were the players, coaches, and athletic trainers.

Stepping into her office, she saw a cup of coffee placed on her desk, along with a sticky note beside it. It smelt familiar, and as she took a sip, she noticed that it was her order.

She read the sticky note, and it was a sweet message from Nils hoping that her day would go well, and a smile drawn at the end.

It was a sweet gesture, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the note as she read it over again, somehow trying to dissect a deeper meaning.

“Oh, so you found it,” Quinn chuckled.

Startled by his sudden presence, she jumped, spilling a little bit of coffee on her sweater.

“Ow!” Yelping in slight pain, her face was hot in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m okay,” she laughed nervously, attempting to somehow magically wipe the stain away.

“I should apologize,” he said, grabbing some tissues from her desk. “Nils is not going to be too happy with me for making you spill coffee on your clothes,”

Like clockwork, he walked by her office and saw the commotion, brow perked up in curiosity. “What about me?”

Turning her head over to look at him, she had a sheepish smile, still holding the note and coffee in her hands. “Hi, Nils.”

He noticed the stain on her clothes, and motioned to her to give him a minute as he ran off, leaving both Quinn and her confused.

Setting the tissues on the table, he muttered out an apology before running off after Nils down the hall.

Now, she was even more confused, unsure of everything that had happened. Putting everything down, she settled on just starting on her work, checking emails and the schedule for the day.

Minutes passed by, and her friend knocked on the door to her office, handing her the spreadsheets of the statistics.

“Good morning lovely, I got you your stats in case anyone was up for interviews today,” she said, still sweet as ever.

Giving her a light laugh, she shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. Spilled coffee on myself and I don’t think I’d like to be on camera today.” She pointed to her clothes.

“Awh, really? That’s terrible,” she sighed, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk. “If I had a spare shirt, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

She put her hand over her heart, “Really? You’re always so sweet,”

Another knock came on her door, and they both looked up from her laptop and documents. Nils was standing here under the doorframe, holding a Canucks sweatshirt in his hands.

“Did I interrupt something?” His voice was barely above a whisper, careful and cautious.

She shook her head with a smile, motioning for him to come in. “Not at all,”

Her friend gave her a smirk and a knowing look. “I need to go get something from my office, see you near the rink,” she said, standing up and walking out of her office.

It was just him standing and her sitting in the office now, the hum of her speakers playing music softly, and time flowed like a river of honey.

The way he looked at her was gentle, warm, and she wanted him to keep looking at her like this forever. His slightly disheveled hair made him look even more raw, something in its purest form.

“I got you one of my sweatshirts,” he spoke softly, afraid to break the air that seemed so intoxicating. “So you don’t have to wear the one with the coffee stain.”

His eyes seemed to observe her every movement, trailing up her arm and to her face as she looked up at him.

She placed her hand on his forearm cautiously, afraid of him pulling away. “You didn’t have to Nils, I’m alright.”

Shaking his head, he wouldn’t take her words. “I insist,”

Her hand moved towards the sweatshirt hesitantly, eyes still looking at him, and stopping before actually reaching it.

“It’ll look better on you, and probably more comfortable.” His voice was quiet, his words easing from his lips.

Silently nodding, she accepted the sweatshirt from his hands as he kept his gaze on her. The air was hot and thick, like a jelly-dessert with extra sweet whipped cream dolloped on the top, a tart maraschino cherry reminding her of the consequences if she made a mistake.

She got up from her desk, walking over to the door of her office. “I’ll go change into this, you can stay a little longer.” Twisting the doorknob, she walked out, leaving Nils still standing there in her office, leaning against the desk.

When she came back from the bathroom, his Canucks sweatshirt on her loosely, holding her stained sweater, he was still there, just as she hoped, but yet, she felt the fear of being caught creeping up on her.

“Don’t you have practice?” she asked, voice careful.

He tilted his head quizzically, almost pondering her words delicately. “You know I have more than a few minutes to spare,” he said, walking over to her. “Most of the guys don’t come into the locker room until ten anyways.”

His hand trailed to the bottom hem of her sweatshirt, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. Looking up at her, he searched for any sign of discomfort, and she stood there, looking back at him, blushed and flustered, wanting more of him.

“Don’t be so nervous, it’s just us in here,” he whispered. “This looks a lot better on you than it does on me, keep it.”

As he let go of the sweatshirt, she found herself wanting to feel his touch on it again, but when she looked up, he was already waving good-bye as he walked out of her office.

A sigh escaped her lips, unaware of the breath that she held. She walked back to her desk, flipping through the documents as she waited for time to pass.

None of it felt real. The past few moments, or even days, were slightly different and odd. Maybe it was the rush of the playoffs, skewing everything into a different perspective, or maybe, it was something else that she was too afraid to admit.

Her phone buzzed on her desk, causing her to be pulled away from her work.

We need you near the ice right now - Fav Data Analyst

No you don’t?

Yeah you’re right, but I miss you :( - Fav Data Analyst

Okay, be down in a bit

Smiling at the messages, she felt grateful for how tight-knit the crew seemed to be, feeling like a second family.

Shortly later, she was met with the smile and wave of her friend, calling her over to the bench. A few other members of the media and training crew were also at the bench, watching the practice unfold in front of them.

“So glad you’re here, it gets a little lonely,”

She looked at her in slight confusion, “With all these people around you?” She gestured.

“They’re not you,” her friend shrugged.

Laughing at her words, she noticed that it caught the attention of Nils on the ice, his eyes almost burning into her for a brief moment.

“You’re such a flirt, unnecessary.”

Her friend raised a brow at her, observing the sweatshirt that she was wearing. “I think that the only thing unnecessary is the fact that I’m one-hundred percent sure I’ve seen that sweatshirt somewhere,”

Rose tinted her cheeks as she felt slightly embarrassed, knowing that her friend knew exactly where she got the sweatshirt from.

A few minutes passed by, and she saw that Nils was skating back to the bench to grab a drink of his water. The way he looked at her while taking a sip could only be described as desire, eyeing her up like a kid looking at pastries from outside the glass.

His scruff seemed to fit him perfectly, rough and raw, and at the same time, gentle like himself. The playoffs definitely ignited something in him, and she found herself wanting to watch it all.

Before she could realize, practice was over, and the players were skating off of the ice one by one. Grabbing her bag, she walked back up to where her office was.

It was nearing lunch time, but she wanted to tidy up her office space a bit before heading out. She put the documents that her friend gave to her in a folder, placing it inside of her bag along with her laptop.

The cup of coffee from Nils was still on her desk, finished and empty, and so she threw it in the trash, but kept the handwritten note.

As she locked the door to her office, she turned around and bumped directly into Nils, crashing into him.

“Shoot! I’m so sorry—”

“You’re okay.”

His strong hands were placed on the sides of her arms, stabilizing her. Looking at him, he was slightly flushed, a bead of sweat or two lining his brow from the practice.

“Sorry, where are you headed?” he asked, hands quickly moving off of her when he noticed what he was doing. “Just wondering, I don’t mean to be weird or anything—”

“Don’t worry about it, Nils. I’m just headed to the Chipotle nearby for a quick lunch,” she said lightly, almost caught off guard by how less bold he seemed compared to earlier.

A bright smile appeared on his face, “Oh, really? Because I was just about to head over too,” he laughed, a sweet blush dusting his face.

“Awh, that’s neat.” Her response was less than what she wanted to say, but she wanted to keep it professional.

They both walked towards the exit of the arena together, silence shared between the both of them as they were greeted by the warm weather, unfamiliar for Vancouver.

The streets were busy as usual, the rush of traffic coming and going, but it didn’t bother her since she was walking, not driving. As much as she hated traffic, she couldn’t deny the fact that it looked mesmerizing from afar at night, the glow of the headlights mimicking the city.

When she arrived at the restaurant, it was jam packed with people, not surprising for the time of day, but it was something that she wasn’t expecting.

She felt an arm nudge her side, drawing her attention towards Nils.

“I’ll pay for our food, it’s on me,”

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head in disagreement, motioning for her to get in the queue with him, to which she followed behind him as they waited in line.

Her eyes scanned the room nervously, hoping to not see her boss or any of her co-workers at the restaurant since she was out with Nils.

If she was caught, she could potentially lose her job, which meant everything to her, but more importantly, she would have to be away from those she grew closest to. Away from Vancouver, and away from Nils.

And as if on cue, he started speaking, only loud enough for the both of them to hear. “Management won’t fire us for having a friendly lunch together, we’re okay,”

She simply nodded in response, a tight-lipped smile that still had a hint of unease to it.

After they got their orders, they decided to go back into the arena to eat rather than at the restaurant, food in hand as they walked there. It was a quiet and peaceful walk, but the weather started to turn into a cloudy gray, rain threatening to fall.

Looking up at the sky, she could tell it was only going to get worse. “Weather doesn’t look too good,” she mumbled, hoping that her papers wouldn’t get ruined.

He hummed in response, also looking up at the sky. “We should hurry,”

“Oh, really?” Her tone was sarcastic as she laughed, which in turn caused him to laugh as well.

He had a mischievous look in his eyes, and she knew that he had something in mind. “I’ll race you to the lounge in the arena,”

Before she could speak, he was already sprinting in the direction of the arena, and she followed suit, wondering how she would even catch up.

While she was running after him, she saw Elias near the front, most likely waiting for his food to be delivered.

“Petey! I need you to do a quick favor for me please,” she blurted, slightly out of breath.

He looked at her in confusion, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah?”

“I need you to unlock the lounge door.”

Shrugging, he led the way to the elevator as they headed up to the floor that the lounge was on. He then unlocked the door, to which she thanked him plenty of times for as he walked back to get his own food.

Throwing herself onto one of the chairs that was in the lounge, she let out a sigh of relief, food still in the bag and unopened.

“How on earth did you get here before me—”

She turned her head to the door, seeing Nils there, panting, out of breath, hand holding onto the door frame. His hair was soaked, dripping onto his shirt, most likely from the rain that started to fall harder since she got inside.

“I went through the front entrance,” she said nonchalantly. “Why?”

A surprised look was scrawled on his face. “The front entrance wasn’t under construction?”

She shook her head to his question.

“Why did Petey tell me that it was?”

A laugh bubbled out from her throat, causing her to hunch over as he sat down across from her. “Petey—he—let me in and use the elevator and pass to get in the lounge with no hesitation,”

While she found the situation hilarious, he on the other hand, was embarrassed, face flushed red.

“You owe me lunch next, that was foul play.” He opened his bag and started eating his burrito bowl, sitting comfortably on the couch.

Her lunch was already in her hands, the warmth radiating from it nicely as she got cozy. “Nope.”

They both ate quietly in the lounge, the sound of the rain tapping on the windows gently as Vancouver became a grayish gloom, completely different from the warm, comforting glow of the lounge lights.

It felt eerily domestic, the quiet peace, the shared, comforting silence, too strange to even consider it something just in the workplace between Nils and her. It felt like something that she could get lost into so easily, something along the lines of a classic fairytale romance.

“What’cha staring at?”

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and a rose-tinted blush was dusted over her face as she averted her glance.

“Nothing, just lost in thought,” she shrugged, hoping to play it off.

Her food was nearly finished, only small bits and scraps left which she prodded with her fork as she was deciding on whether or not she should throw it away or take it home.

The phone in her pocket buzzed, causing her to get up and throw the food away before excusing herself, walking into the hall to pick up the call.

“Hello?”

The familiar voice of her friend could be heard through the phone. “Hey, where are you? I thought you would be in the office by now.”

“Oh, sorry. I got caught up with something. Do you need me there now?”

“More like caught up with someone,”

Even through the phone, she could tell that her friend was giving her a knowing look accompanied with a wink.

“But anyways, I don’t need you ASAP but just enjoy your lunch with that special someone. Get back to me when you can.”

She let out a sigh, having already been outside the lounge. “Will do, love you lots.”

Her friend reciprocated the departure as she hung up, sliding the phone back into her pocket as she made her way to her office.

Nils left the lounge shortly after she hung up the phone, but he heard the last part of her call, which set him on edge. He didn’t know much about her personal life, and he wasn’t even sure if he was overstepping some personal boundaries of hers.

As the days passed, tensions rose in the arena as the Canucks went against the Oilers. Everyone felt restless, unease, not being able to properly get comfortable. Even after each win, it still felt like it wasn’t enough.

She stared at her laptop screen, sifting through the goals scored and other notable statistics of each game, somehow searching for a way to win with full certainty. Her fingers tapped against the desk nervously, and it felt like every poster and memorabilia on the wall was a relic to pray to.

The sound of childish bickering could be heard outside of her office, and she leaned back to try and get a glance at who it was. “Come in? The door is open I think—”

Her door swung open, and there stood a flustered Nils and a giggly Quinn attempting to push him into the room, whispering some sort of encouragement.

“Is everything alright?” She turned her chair to face the door, slowly getting up.

His playoff beard was starting to grow more, giving him a more masculine look that made her slightly weak, but he still kept a soft gentleness that she always liked from him.

“If I score tonight, will you get dinner with me?” Nils’s voice was quiet and nervous, but Quinn still stood in the doorway, waiting for a response from her.

She gave him a smirk, and she felt a wave of boldness overcome her. “I know you’ll score anyways, but we have a deal,”

He smiled with a blush and waved her goodbye as he ushered Quinn and him out of her office.

Time didn’t seem to pass quick enough, and she found herself pacing back and forth from her office to the rink. She had already prepared her report, all the information and stats needed for the pre-game announcements.

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to remind herself that the game would go well, but the pre-game jitters still ran rampant inside of her.

At the end of the hall, she could see her friend waving her over, holding something in her hands. As she walked closer, she could see that it was two Canucks jerseys, unnumbered and unnamed.

“I didn’t know which one you’d want—well I did know, but I didn’t want any rumors to spread for professionalism’s sake—so I got you a jersey for the game tonight.” She smiled.

It made sense, but she didn’t know why she was allowed to wear a jersey tonight. “Management let you?” she said, confused.

“Yeah, odd, but I don’t mind it.” She placed the jersey in her hands, the athletic material brushing against her palms. “Hoping we snag a win tonight,”

She let out a sigh, anxious but hopeful. “Me too,”

A few minutes before puck drop, she stood near the glass beside the rink, the blue and green lights of the arena giving the place an eerie glow.

Her jersey was on, Canucks emblem proudly displayed on the front as she got ready to give the pre-game report.

“Welcome everyone to Rogers Arena where the Canucks are facing off tonight against the Edmonton Oilers, hoping to get a win in this series. Tonight, the focus and spotlight is shifted onto our players to watch, having performed greatly these past few games,”

The camera was then panned to the players practicing on the ice as she moved to the bench, standing behind the players beside the coaches and athletic crew.

And as the game started, the arena was tense. The sounds of the stick smacking on the ice could be heard, cheering, chanting, and puck calling all too familiar. The building was loud and the fans were riled up, hoping to not be let down.

Minutes passed by, and the puck was being moved up and down the ice, and just as it made it into the offensive zone for the Canucks, leading to a goal for Elias Petterson.

Fans cheered and shouted as the goal horn went off, banners flying and waving through the air as the players celebrated the first goal of the game.

She cheered from the bench as well, celebrating with her colleagues and friends, full of adrenaline and joy. Even though Nils hadn’t scored yet, she was still hopeful that he would, having seen a couple of close calls that bounced off of the post or barely stopped by the goalie.

As the first period came to an end, the players filed off into the locker room as the media crew and her gave a quick first intermission report.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest, the oh so familiar feeling of being high with the rush of energy, the way it felt so unreal despite experiencing it over and over again.

Before she knew it, the second period was starting, players in their position in the neutral zone waiting for the puck to hit the ice. Her eyes watched every player carefully, observing each number and and keeping note of who is where and when at every second.

When she saw Nils get onto the ice, time felt like it was solid as she held her breath.

He weaved through the other players, gaining possession of the puck before passing it back to Quinn.

As the goalie thought Quinn was going to shoot, he passed it back to Nils, who scored a wrist shot that went over the goalie and into the goal.

The horn went off as the fans started to cheer wildly, the players celebrating on the ice again with picturesque smiles and hugs while she was on the bench, face dusted with a blush as she tried her hardest to play it off as over-exerted cheering.

She could see the smirk on his face, knowing that the deal was already set, and she could also see how Quinn was pointing at Nils, most likely teasing him about the bet.

The game went on, slower than what she wanted, but by the end of it all, it was a two-nothing victory for the Canucks, leading to a happy team, and more specifically, a happy Nils. The locker room was amped, music blaring as she walked by, the sound of grown men trying their best to sing along, and a smile scrawled on her face.

She had already done the post-game report, albeit, a very rushed one with a flustered look on her face, but she tried her hardest to remain as professional as possible. Her bag was packed and all ready to head home, files and papers in folders, laptop in its case, and every muscle in her body felt ready to collapse.

The rain was rampant outside, splashing in puddles outside on the concrete, and she knew she had to either be quick, or deal with a soaked jersey, and the last option did not sound too pleasant.

Staring into the now empty parking lot, she allowed herself to take a few deep breaths in, feeling the cool air fill her lungs, and breathing out, with her muscles relaxing.

She could hear footsteps behind her, but like a second instinct, she knew exactly who it was.

“Nils,” she said quietly.

He paused before taking another step towards her, the air now seemingly filled with a static. “You’re going to catch a cold,”

“You as well.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a sigh. “Let’s get to your car first, then we’ll talk,”

She led the way to her car, hair becoming more messy and soaked from the rain. When she looked back, she saw Nils following behind her, but he looked even more tempting with his unkempt hair.

Placing her bag in the car, she turned back to Nils, seeing him stand there waiting for her.

He looked at her, observing every detail of her with no shame. “That jersey looks beautiful on you, ya’know?”

“Oh, stop it, Nils,” she blushed. “When and where is the dinner I was promised?”

Pulling out his phone, he asked for her number, to which she gave him it. She had trust that he would actually follow through with his promise, and so she didn’t ask for him to check it again.

“I mean it, you look gorgeous and always have. Even right now.”

She looked up at him, admiring his features silently for a few while her fingers ghosted over the lapel of his suit.

“May I?” He asked, hand hovering over the small of her back.

As soon as she nodded, he pulled her into a tender kiss, lips pressed against hers. It felt like everything from the past few weeks all started to become worth it, the waiting, the stares and glances. All of it.

The rain continued to fall between them, cold against the warmth of their bodies, and she didn’t want to pull away any time soon.

Her eyes remained shut, but she knew he looked so handsome with his lips pressed to hers. His scruff was scratching against her face, but she knew that she wouldn’t ever mind it at all.

Butterflies were loose inside of her, fluttering wildly as if she waited for this moment for far too long.

His touch, his fingers against her chin was full of sparks, and his other hand on her back seemed to be the only thing grounding her to reality, reminding her that this moment was real, and forever in her memories.

When they both finally pulled away, breathing heavily, their lips were swollen and tender, smiles painted on their faces.

He had a sort of angelic glow to him, ethereally irresistible, and she pulled him in for a quick peck once more.

“Can’t get enough of me already?” He chuckled.

She shook her head as she opened her car door, sitting inside as she gave him a gentle smile. “Could never get enough of you.”

He took her hand in his palm, giving it a gentle kiss before he waved goodbye to her again. “Please, get home safe,”

“Will do, Nils. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

As she drove off with a dopey smile, she could still feel the warmth of him and each touch of his vividly, and she knew the glow of the lights in Vancouver would never be the same again.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks fluff #vancouver canucks #nils hoglander fluff #nils hoglander #nils hoglander x reader #nils hoglander imagine #nils hoglander fic #nils höglander #nils höglander x reader

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 4 months ago

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Hello slug! Do you have any piece of advice you wish you knew when you first started out as a translator? (Or just something you want beginner translators to know)

I could go on about this all day if you let me, so I sat on this ask for a few weeks and tried to condense it down to five of the most helpful-- if a little abstract-- points. Hope this helps!

Usual reminder that I'm referring specifically to J->E media translation, although I would imagine most of this applies to media translation of other language pairs.

Edit: Ohhh Tumblr's being a nasty little man and not letting me post everything. Try to curtail my verbose ass, eh? We'll see about THAT! More in the reblogs it is.

A translation is a piece of creative writing informed by the unique needs and limitations of its author, audience, and medium. Before I write a single word, I always consider what approach is most appropriate for translating the work. This is informed by many things, including but not limited to: - Author(s). A work with a single author (most books, indie games) usually demands stricter fidelity, as the words you write become representative of this person's views within the English audience. A work with multiple authors (most bigger games, virtually all anime) may allow greater creativity in the pursuit of other goals. The author's purpose is also paramount. If the author's primary goal is to make people laugh, you will often want to make your work do just that. Serious works should read seriously. Romantic works should tug at heart strings. Occasionally, authors will provide specific guidelines to follow. You do not always have the ability to push back, even if you think they are horribly misguided--in many cases, the company you're working with can lose business if translation teams cause too much of a fuss. If the end result looks silly, you may be blamed for it in reviews and public perception. Responding publicly is not a good look and may hurt your chances at finding employment elsewhere. Conduct yourself professionally! (End of tangent.) - Audience. While rewriting a text to cater to an audience is almost never appropriate, it will often make you and the audience happier if you consider their expectations for translations. Fan translation readers often want to receive a black-and-white, "correct" interpretation of the text--an understandable desire; I'm not knocking this--and therefore may be more receptive to inappropriately detailed translation notes while less receptive to looser interpretations of the text. Readers of professional translations, especially paid works, often demand a higher level of polish and are less tolerant of juvenile goofery that can sometimes be gotten away with in fan translation. Similarly, genres affect the work. BL audiences are more likely to be LGBT+ than isekai action audiences and will expect translators to use more politically correct language. Some niche genres expect (at least, the appearance of) stricter fidelity at the word level than genres that attract a wider mix of casual and serious fans. - Medium. Even if one translator works on multiple iterations of the same series, the nature of the medium will force them to produce two very different translations. Anime and manga are often more understated compared to works of straight text (visual novels, actual novels, some RPGs) to avoid overwhelming the visuals. Anything that is voiced (anime, some video games) must follow the tone and sentence structure (Ie, "short clause, pause, long clause" is often translated as "short clause, comma, long clause" even if there are many, many other ways to express this idea) of the voiced line. Anything with character limits (anime subs, video games, manga) must be concise and punchy. In manga, the script's visual presentation--line length, what words should be placed together to create a nice shape, word length in skinny bubbles--must also be taken into consideration.

#not a translation #asks #misc asks

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nightunite · 2 months ago

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I've been keeping up with your Baron Konïg AU and I'm OBSESSED-

But I have to know, what about Gaz, Simon and Price? I haven't really heard much on them and I want to know so bad 😞😞

Love your writing and hope your having a wonderful day/night 💗

Teeheeheeehee, I was hoping someone would ask ngl. @itsa-me-lily helped me come up with the backstories, and as always please enjoy! I hope you also have a wonderful day and thank you!

Some general basics real quick: -As a general reminder, we are going off of vibes, and so some things may just be handwaved. -Price is also a Duke, Simon a Marquess, and Kyle an Earl, due to their COD rankings; if Johnny hadn't been the duke in this he would also be an Earl -Vaguely they all do business of some kind concerning their own lands. I haven't charted out the specifics yet, though all of them are involved in lumber trade and the selling of goods. A quick search mostly just addresses the political power or lack thereof, but they have to have money coming from somewhere. -Price and Simon both served in the military regarding some vague war, as did Konig. Price at one point was on the battlefield (thankfully the same side) as Konig while Simon was stationed somewhere else. Now, as to these men individually. I'll be sorting them in order of least to most awful. First up is Kyle. He is the youngest of the men, though not by much. Came into his own title via inheritance, though he's not a spoiled brat. Objectively the best of the four to deal with, he's polite and kind but tends to shy away from women due to wanting to keep his heart safe. At this point he is looking to get engaged, follow the general structure expected of a noble. He's the best at using flattery to get what he wants, the 'innocent' approach disarming those around him. The first one to hear of any salacious rumors, he and Johnny tend to gossip like bored wives during the courting seasons. If I had to pick one of these men to marry, it would be Kyle: he might not be in love with me, but he would treat me well and for something like this AU that's the optimal result. Next is our dearest fellow Duke, Duke Price. The man is pragmatic to say the least. When it comes to getting information he uses a mix of casual conversation and the hard press, the first to hear of any economic stirrings that might interfere with his lifestyle. The one most built for business, his nobility comes from a mix of lineage, wealth, and power. He worked hard to get where he is, and while he can be friendly, at his core he tends to treat those he doesn't consider a close friend with basic courtesy. He has no intention of settling down, content instead with courtesans. Clean business, an exchange in which both parties get what they want. Officially has no children, though off the books he has a handful of them. He doesn't feel he would make a good full-time father, and so instead sends the mothers whatever they need financially to take care of them. And finally, Marquess Simon. A man who built his status off of military prowess and a subsequent ability to root out any misdeeds amongst his cohorts, the first to hear of any more illicit deeds that could result in charges being pressed. It helps to keep him and the others from associating with those that cross the line too far and would tarnish their good names. In a manner similar to Konig wears a face covering, though only from the cheeks down, adding an air of mystery without triggering the fight or flight response unintentionally. To quote @itsa-me-lily "this man is a menace to women". Where Price is content and honest with his dalliances, Simon prides himself in his ability to charm women. He comes across as the rough gentleman, not quite a scoundrel like Johnny, the kind of man who triggers the 'I can fix him' or 'I'm the exception' reflex in the ladies at court. He enjoys the thrill of the chase while also not making any promises. Also has unofficial children, but where Price takes care of his, Simon turns a blind eye to them. The worst one of the bunch without question, including Johnny. I have plans for all of these men, because A) I like men groveling and B) If anything this AU is about taking accountability for the flippancy of powerful men.

#baron konig au

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mellowyellow236 · 4 months ago

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Poor And Fortunate Souls

Azul finds a bubbly merfolk who’s looking for love. He makes a deal in exchange for your voice, a fair deal. It’s a fair deal, right? (Based off some headcanons I did. GN!Reader based on Ariel.)

Azul’s first thought was that you were beautiful. His second was that you were a great contender to make a contract with him. You were everything that he needed; gullible, ditzy, and a bit vague. He smiled as he planned how to catch you in his jaws and hold you close enough that you wouldn’t be able to move again. No… That you wouldn’t be able to speak. That soothing thought satiated him as you rambled on and on, something about hoping to find someone on land, or something of the like. Thinking of how you wouldn’t even be able to stand up for yourself, simply dependent on him to speak for you…

“Ah, of course. I can give you whatever you desire, as long as you sign right here.” He smiled, watching as you finished looking through the contract. It turned into more of a smirk as you signed, and shook his hand, his gloves over the delicate hands of one who had never had to depend on their own labors. Your voice in exchange for him to find you the perfect lover. If you don’t give up your voice, you turn into seafoam three weeks after the day you two start dating. A fine deal. He can’t lose.

“When should I start working here? You’ve got me as your worker, whenever you need!” Azul nodded,

“Every day, you’ll be working here after school until closing. You’re our only singer, after all.” He couldn’t help but restrain a laugh as you stood up with such excitement.

“Really? Oh, I’ve always loved to sing in front of crowds, that isn’t even a problem! I can even sing on the weekends if you’d like, I think it’s just so wonderful here. And, you know, the seashells remind me so much of home. You’re also from the Coral Sea, right? Which part? It'd be so interesting if turns out we used to know each other-” He let you babble on and on, ushering you out of his office all the while you kept on going. Once you were desperate enough to leave, it would be a blessing that you let him pluck your voice out from the source.

Azul’s third thought about you was how much of a chatterbox you were. You never seemed to shut up, always keeping going, going, going, until you started running yourself in circles. It was a blessing that he had chosen you to sing, or else you would have scared all his customers off.

“Azul, Azul! Guess what?” You waited for no explanation as you went on, “Whatever potion you gave me really works! Listen, I mentioned that one friend that I wanted to get to know, and he started to get closer to me and talk to me more and stuff. Azul, do you think he’s the one?” He sighed as you answered yourself, “No, I don’t think so. He’s got the wrong eyes, the guy I’m looking for has blue ones. You don’t think you’ve seen the real one, Azul?”

“I don’t believe we have, yet. But I’m working on it, and Jade and Floyd are both doing very well when it comes to looking for more information. You should write down whatever it is you want me to look for, specifically. Every detail helps-”

“But I’ve already told you a million times, every little detail! He’s tall, and strong-looking, and probably human, and he’s got the prettiest black hair and blue eyes!” He felt his eye twitch as you whined.

“Send me, a voice message, if you wish for it to be fully committed to memory. I’ll memorize whatever you send me.” He said, as your eyes lit up and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Really, Azul? Really, really?” You squealing, hugging him. “I didn’t know you liked hearing me talk so much! Thank you! I’ll be sure to send you lots of things, okay? You better not forget any! Ah, I’m gonna be late to get out and sing. Come listen to me, okay? No! Better yet, I’ll send you a message tonight. How does that sound? Goodbye!” You seemed to wait for no man, nor for Azul to respond that he desired no recording from you. He could only sigh as you ran off, sitting down at his desk once more.

His fourth thought was how you were a good singer. He had known this since he got his eye on you, yes, but he had never stopped to appreciate it. But here he was, lying on his bed, listening to you sing a sappy song. He didn’t care for the lyrics, something silly. Probably just the short phrase you wanted someone to say to you so badly, extended for three minutes in a million different ways.

To be exact, it was 34 lines, not including repeated phrases. He had to memorize that much. He had to, that’s why he was doing it. He didn’t care that the song was talking about how beautiful the listener was, or how much you loved someone. Not even when you tried to sing a little old sailing song about an octo-mer, not even as you added on that you thought it was fun that he not the listener, not the audience would love you like it, and that you thought he was pretty beautiful, stunning, jaw-dropping, he wasn’t fat, he wasn’t unloveable, he wasn’t weird, he was only yours

His fifth thought is that you’re a good person. The perfect kind to make a deal with. He’ll get what he wants. He wants your voice.

Azul wants his fifth thought to be joy. He’s found the person you’re looking for. He wants that to be it.

You’ve got a boyfriend now. You don’t have time to leave him long voice memos anymore, you’re on a call with your boyfriend. You don’t have time to stay later with him, long after work, talking to him as he does work, you’re on a date with your boyfriend.

And you think he’s pretty, and sweet, and adventurous. What about Azul, huh? He’s just as much as that guy is. He’s sweet, look at how much he gives everyone. Look at how everyone goes to him for deals. Look, he’s doing so well. He went here on an adventure, he’d never gone up to land before. Aren’t you going to look? Please, look.

Please.

Azul’s fifth thought is that he can’t stand the thought of being just another member of your audience.

His sixth thought is how you’re gullible. Stupid, naive. So, so stupid. You sold him your voice.

Not your music.

Not your time spent singing.

You agreed to twist the terms. You agreed to sell your voice. In return, they promised that your boyfriend would love you until his last day. And Azul got your voice. You’re gullible. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ugly. Stupid. Fat. Naive. Weird. Horrible, horrible, horrible.

He hates you. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. He loves you.

His seventh thought is that you’re beautiful. Your voice is, at least. It joins him on his bedside now. Maybe the rest of the room can hear it sing sadly. It regrets you leaving. See, it does. You never should have left. It thought those contract terms were unfair, you lost so much more than you gained. See? Don’t you want to come back?

When Azul has it to himself, he has seafoam in his hands. Fluffy and soft. Useless. It’s useless.

In the end, he’s the one who turned into that silly, foamed-up mess that clouds where the sea meets dry land. Alone in his office with only a voice to keep him company, having it repeat the only words he wanted to hear. I love you, I love you, I love you.

His eighth thought is that he hates you.

#angst #a lot of angst #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst disney #sad ending

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rowanwritestoomuch · 5 months ago

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A Lesson on ConCrit -- how to give & recieve

Criticism is often something we all abhor, but in our artwork of writing, we need to understand how to recieve information about editting and how to give it, because we will not succeed without it.

There is no world in which writing is not a collaborative effort-- unless you never share it, in which case, this post is not for you. Keep on doing what you're doing you funky fresh individual. But for the rest of us with a praise kink, this is an ineffeible truth.

So how do we give *constructive* criticism in writing?

We remain focused on improvement.

Never give criticism to harm, never with malicious intent, never to degrade or belittle. Never. Do. This. If you did not like a work but it has skillful merit, it uses grammar properly, it has structure and themeology, it is OKAY to simply accept 'I did not like this' and move on. But if you have something useful to say, something productive for the writer, something genuinely meant in kindness and to improve, it is important to always keep in mind the 'when this, then that' method.

For example; "When [X character] confessed to his lover, it was the cutest thing I've ever seen, but then [Y character] had very little reaction, and it took me out of the scenes where their greater romance was developed. I would suggest when [Y character] is confronted with this information, perhaps we should include some more emotional beats and actions, like describing their expressions or what they think, to make sure the reader stays engaged. Thank you for posting this, I'm enjoying it!" In this bit of criticism, we have kept a constructive approach in mind. We have addressed that 'when this' happened, it made us feel good, but when we found something we thought needed improvement, 'then that' was discussed. We engaged with the artist in a way that did not degrade them but also did not demand that they take our advice, by framing our suggestions in a way that remembers inherent storytelling aspects, like emotions and actions, and we gave positive but not specific suggestions on how to improve those actions, without injecting our own bias into the artist's work.

This is the meat of constructive criticism. We do not want to put each other down. We do not want to taint another's art with our own voice. We want to focus on improvement and respect someone's vulnerability in sharing their work.

Another example; "I noticed that in this scene, I got really lost when [X & Y] were talking because you used a lot of pronouns and not very many proper nouns. In Chapter 3, you had a scene with [X, Y, Z & Q] and it was really engaging for me, I didn't mind the use of proper nouns because I was able to easily keep track of who was talking when. I think it would help both of us follow along better when the characters' names are used more. Really great work, I'm loving the banter between the two." In this example, we point out an error in the execution of the work, a literary thing such as forgotten proper nouns that pull the reader from the scene. In order to encourage the writer, we made sure to include an example of when they did well to remind them how they did well and encouraged them to improve this scene in the same manner as the previously well executed one. We remembered to let them know that we did enjoy the scene, we just got a little lost, and we collaborated with them on how it would help us, the reader, and them, the writer, follow along better. This same kind of concrit can be used for any literary skill mistake, or instead you could simply say "Would you like some help editting your work?" and collaborate with the artist even further. Grammar errors, spelling mistakes, structure issues, use of words and nouns, you can help with those things without placing any blame or anxiety on the writer, and many would love to have several hands edit their work before they do their final drafting. It is important to remember always that our engagement with an artist is a sensitive subject, and we will not gain more art from this person (content, if you will) if we continuosly demand, degrade, disgrace and disregard the feelings of the creators. Respect has to be given and recieved like a gift, and the gift in our metaphor is writing.

Things that you should not comment on; characters you just didn't like--- you can just not like something, the artist doesn't have to change it for you to enjoy, move on. Plot directions or twists that just weren't your flavor--- not every piece has to fit into your ideal of a trope. Only speak on these things when the plot is completely contrived or needs re-structuring to really hit the point it's trying to make. If you just didn't like where the story went, well, it's not for you. It doesn't mean its bad. Understand how to have a discerning eye for the difference between execution and expression. Stylistic choices that just don't hit with you, like purposefully lowercased words, the changing or reformatting of words into new ones, different dialogue types and tags--- these are things the author did on purpose. You do not tell a painter you did not like the use of orange in their sunflower painting, you just move on. That was a choice, not a mistake or a lesson that needs to be learned, and not everyone has to use words the way you do. Focus on being helpful, not being biased. Art is subjective and exists both in the eyes of the artist and the viewer, it is not supposed to be monotypical. To give criticism, one must also be able to recieve it.

It can be hard for someone to comment on our work with something that suggests we made a mis-step. We must always consider what it is that we have to glean from this new information when it strikes us anxious, instead of becoming mired in our own ego. If a reader has something to say about the improvement of your work, it is not a law, they will not abandon you if you do not heed them, and if they do, another one will most likely enjoy the place you decided to remain. Criticism is a very 'take it or leave it or do something with it'. You can hear the reader out when they say that the interactions between characters fell flat for them, but if it was your intention to display the character as apathetic, uninterested, uninvested, distracted or depressed, maybe then the reader just did not pick up what you were putting down. You could change your work because of this, or you could leave it the same and the next reader, or the many silent readers aside, will most likely feel differently. When someone has a suggestion on the changing of grammar, consider--- is it hard to read? I should probably change this, I'm *glad* they pointed it out. We sometimes write with blinders on, it is not an insult for someone to turn our head and make us look in another direction. It is not an insult for someone to suggest we need improvement, especially when they give examples as to how to help. It is not an insult to share our work and accept that not everyone will like it, and that we can take their advice both with grace and with self-respect. Listen to your readers, listen to your heart, and collaborate with the two.

And always, always remember, write because it hurts if you don't.

#creative writing #rowanwrites #on writing #writeblr #writing tips #writing advice #how to write #rowanteaches #writers on tumblr #writing #concrit #concrit welcome

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divine-crows · 11 months ago

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Grimoire/Bos Prompts or Research Topics for the Witch that Doesn’t Know What To Do Next

(Pt. 1/ ?)

Okay so, I've been working on gathering information for a couple of years now. (On and off for 4 years probably a little less because I procrastinate), and just now I've gotten an official book to put all of my information in since prior to that I just had loose leafs of paper that I'd stash away at random, and google docs filled with information (which I recommend. It helped me let go of the stress of messing up and helps when you need to edit and add information. I still use my doc as a way to add stuff and as an on-the-go grimoire).

I've practically stuffed this grimoire with everything I've gathered and refined, and this has lead me to reach an impasse where I don't quite know what to do next. Not a lot of BoS or Grimoire prompts are geared towards people that have the basics written down, but don’t know what to do next, so I'll make a short list of stuff I've brainstormed.

Note: These prompts aren't all going to be specific things to do research on, a lot of it is inspired by Molly Roberts on YouTube because I love prompts and ideas that may not be necessarily witchy, but can be when in the context of where it is. These prompts and research topics also are not mine by any means and I’ll reiterate it often because I want people to make these ideas their own.

- What being a witch means to you. This can include why you decided to use witch as a label for yourself, your specific practice, why you got into it, how it affects your life and it's importance, etc.

- how your religion (or if non-religious, any of your beliefs or theories you support) works alongside your craft. Do you feel a need to separate the two? Do you treat them like they're always together? Are there any specific scenarios where you use the two hand-in-hand? Talk about it.

- Entity and/or spirit Guide! Make a section dedicated to entities and spirits in your area, how you (or others) found them, if you think you know what/who they are, or if you aren't sure what it could be. This can open up great opportunities for you to study new things. I myself have been planning on doing it since my town has a lot of ghosts, and I've had plenty of interactions with entities that I don't know of (ex. some seem like the fair folk, but due to the origins of people that lived in my town it's unlikely, or they have one trait that reminds me of an entity I know of but the rest of their traits are nothing like it).

- energy/magic map. This can be used in multiple ways! Map out the energy and vibes you feel when you're in other places, or map out the energy you felt during a spell/ritual, or maybe even there's a song that just speaks to you and you want to show the flow of energy the song makes you feel. How you show this flow is up to you and your experience! Maybe you have synesthesia and you want to explore how that mixes with your experience with the flow of energy in music ( or just in general) go for it!

- any personal ideas or concepts. This might be candle etiquette, or maybe you personally don't say the name of certain entities or deities for specific reasons. Maybe there's something you do that you don't see a lot of people mention in media. Write it down! You never know when you'll come across something and go "...wait a minute" and then you can flip through your Grimoire/BoS and go "oh! Right, that's just a personal belief/uncommon concept so that might be why it isn't in here." Now. This does not mean stealing from other cultures and claiming you believed in it all along. And it doesn't mean disrespecting any basic rules of etiquette.

- if there's items you see and you have an inexplicable pull to, document it! Talk about the energies they had. What they were and looked like. If you bought it or not. This can help you in the future when it comes to incorporating items. Sometimes I find out that an item I bought because its "vibes were interesting" can actually be repurposed and I always feel proud afterwards because my intuition knew all along.

- do certain places or situations make you feel a little bit more magical than you usually do? Make a list of those places (and if you want to add a description of them!) Sometimes when I'm not feeling 100% with my craft just visiting those places makes me feel better.

- Information about where you’re from or where you currently live, and how this place applies to your practice. I’ve seen at least one or two people do this with their grimoire’s and it’s a great idea. It doesn’t have to be an extensive history either, for me, I just focused on the state I live in and I added basic information that I felt belonged there. I also included some common folklore of the area.

- - -

I'll add on more as I brainstorm them. These ideas and concepts are not mine and a lot have probably been done already. Have fun with them! Reblog with more ideas (I'll definitely reblog ones with ideas I like)

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southernbluebellereader · 2 years ago

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Okay this idea has been bugging me for a while. And I was scrolling through tags, searching who seems fitting for an idea like this. Taskforce 141 x reader that has a succubus tattoo and their reaction to it. I'm quite bad at being detailed about my idea, but just basically their reaction to it when they happen to see the tattoo in any situation you really want. Pants happen to be low and reader lifts their arms, which lifts the shirt etc. Or in a sexy situation or working out.

Idk how to make requests but would love to see you write this idea out. Not a must, ya can choose and change things. Male, female, gender neutral, you can choose

Kvinnlig Demon (SWE: Female Demon)

A/N: O-K, best friend. I see you, and I'm liking this. Kind of reminds me of the tattoo request I did a while back, click here if you wanna read it. I'm gonna make the reader as gender neutral as I can, but it may lean towards femme. This is so good, I love this idea so much. I couldn't find a tattoo that was specifically a succubus but I found these really cool womb tattoos that I liked, but I was thinking that our reader had a little bigger one that extended out to their hips as well. idk. I hope you like this Pinterest Link - Image Link This may also be a little longer than my other requests, but I really liked writing this.

Warnings: Sexual themes & innuendos; past mention of sex in many forms, including but not limited to mention of sexual assault; maybe some cursing; big burly military men being all hot and bothered

Task Force 141 (Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle) x Reader with a womb tattoo - featuring Kate Laswell

Master List (Tag List at the bottom)

(This has mention of themes regarding sex and sexual assault, if this is uncomfortable or you are under 18, please stop at this point and do not read)

You were not one to parade your tattoos everywhere, but like a lot of people in the military, you had them, and just like everyone, you had a past. And similarly to this you worked with, you had a past. Albeit, your past was perhaps a little more... sexually violent... than others.

You were young, you were free, but you were seventeen and he was twenty-seven. He was so sweet to you, he took care of you, he let you sleep over on that bare mattress with his three other roommates - who sometimes liked to watch and participate.

But you were never the same after that night when the four of them pounced on you. And for the next two and a half years until your nineteenth birthday, you'd nearly destroyed yourself countless times in an effort to redeem and reclaim yourself. You found two ways: (1) Tattoo therapy, and (2), meeting Kate Laswell.

Your first tattoo had been on your lower stomach and around your hips. It was special to you. You'd thought it'd help you redirect your hyper-sexuality that had developed over time. Kate Laswell helped you get justice for what had happened to you, under one condition: you let her take you under her wing to help you and mentor you. Helping you re-direct your anger, frustration, and hyper-sexuality into something more efficient - in healthy ways. You were truly appreciative of Kate Laswell for helping you cope with what happened to you.

You'd eventually proved yourself useful to the CIA and the military in aiding as a spy and tracker to help bring down human trafficking rings. Eventually you found yourself working alongside Captain John Price and his team. You served well as a spy, because who knew better than you how easily lust and sex can influence a person to reveal information. At first they didn't know what to make of you, but Kate was smart, and so was you.

Over time, you'd had added on to your tattoo, adding various shades of pinks and reds, encasing your body in soft and gentle line-work that begun from your lower stomach and pubic mound. And it would prove useful for a particular mission that needed you to play a part.

All six of you being stuck in a small two-bedroom apartment, it was hard to get personal space. Laswell and Price prepared for briefing in the kitchen. Kyle and Ghost prepared weapons and wires and bugs in one of the bedrooms. Johnny went with you to pick up the the clothes for you to wear. Everything fit in two medium sized paper bags.

"That's it?" Johnny scratched the back of his head as you paid for the clothes and the cashier simply pulled out the two bags from under the counter and handed it to you.

"That's it, Mac," You chuckled at him and the two of you headed back to the apartment. Johnny couldn't help but try and sneak a peak inside the bags, the only thing he could see was something pink.

Once the two of you got back into the apartment, you went into the other bedroom to get ready. Kate filled you in as you got dressed, as Price filled in Johnny. Kate sat on the bed, reading out loud from a tablet as you had stripped nude, taking out the light pink lingerie and hot pink dress. You'd put on the lingerie and tried to figure out how to put on the dress when someone knocked on the bedroom door.

"It's Price."

"Come in," You'd called out. Kate kept her eyes focused on the tablet as Price opened the door. He started talking, but the abruptly stopped when he saw you in the lingerie. You'd stood upright, facing him as you continued to try and untangle the scrappy pink dress in your hands, "You good, Cap?"

Captain Price's face had turned a dark red and he immediately looked down and closed the door enough to where he could still speak to the both of you. He cleared his throat before speaking in a low voice, "Erm, L/N. Laswell. We're almost ready out here. Let me know when you're ready."

"Hey, are you ok, Cap?" You'd somehow appeared by the door, your body taking up the gap that Price had left in an attempt to close the door. His hat hung low over his brow as he tried to keep his eyes from wandering down to your bosom, down to your waist, and a little further down to your dark pink tattoos. He would've missed them if they didn't contrast in color with the light pink lingerie you had on.

He lingered longer than he should've, relishing in your appearance. You knew this. You enjoyed his attention. But you also had a lot of respect for the man, as soldier, as a captain - he knew how to look but not touch.

"I'm alright, L/N. Ye almost ready?" A small smirk started to grow on the Captain's face. You recognized a smirk like that a mile away and opened up the door ever so slightly to give him a better view.

"Yeah, almost ready Cap. Just a few more minutes, do I need anything under the dress?"

"Kyle and Simon will have that for you, Y/N. You need anything from us?" He couldn't deny that you had an effect on you, and the tattoos that were oh so close to your core weren't helping his case either. Maybe it was for the better that he could only look, but not touch.

"Nope, I'll be right out." You winked at him and went back to the bed and picked up the dress. Price lingered a few seconds longer, committing your tattoos and the smell of cherries from your perfume to memory, then went back to the other bedroom to let Simon and Kyle know that you were almost ready for wires.

Kate followed behind and went to Johnny as he kept watch by the window, holding a day old newspaper in his hand that he was pretending to read it. He saw you walk out of the bedroom and stood in the hallway in the pink lingerie he saw in the bag, then swallowed hard. He didn't know if he should keep looking out the window, actually read the news paper, or look at you.

Johnny knew you had tattoos, but this was the first time he'd seen the full extent of them. You caught him staring and smirked at him, "You like what you see, Mac?"

"Ye look fine, bonnie lass," Johnny cleared his throat and shook the news paper in his hand, trying to calm his heart beat.

"Just fine?" You teased.

Johnny's eyes were barely above the newspaper, nearly boring eyes into your head, then slowly moved down your body. He could swear you shifted your body so that he could get a better view of you. Like Price, he committed the tattoos on your lower stomach to memory, enjoying how they danced on your body as you moved and how they interacted with the lingerie you had on. He wondered if they hurt. He wondered what they'd feel like under his fingers.

You had to admit, you liked his accent, you thought it was hot. The first time you met him, you told him his accent was hot and you could see his mind unravel in his eyes. It was also from that point on that he'd let you call him 'Mac' - and he'd only let you call him that. To you, he was 'Mac', to everyone else, he was 'Soap' - and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Before Johnny could answer, the closed bedroom door opened, revealing Kyle in the doorway. You turned around, and you were honestly almost caught by surprise by how close he was to you, "Kyle! You ready for me?"

Kyle was most certainly caught off guard. Sure, he'd seen plenty of women in lingerie, visited a few strip clubs on certain nights, and flipped through a few old Play Boy magazines, but he'd never expected you.

In light pink lingerie.

Covered in dark pink tattoos that begun from your lower stomach and womb, and turned a lighter pink as it spread to your hips and abdomen.

Kyle was the only one who hadn't seen any of your tattoos. And now he saw them all at once. You could see his Adam's apple bob in his throat, his eyes moving quickly between your body and your eyes, his face growing warm.

He made his voice low and moved to the side, "Y-Yeah..."

"Oh good," You tapped the man's shoulder as you walked inside. The way you smelled like cherries was the only other thing on his mind as he watched you walk inside the bedroom. He made eye contact with Johnny, whose eyes were just as wide as his - both of them could feel the restraints in their pants. Kyle could barely process the sight of you as he turned back around, seeing you stand in front of Simon as he began attaching wires and small trackers to your lingerie that would be eventually hidden by your dress, which had been placed on the bed.

You liked Kyle. He was sweet. He tended to have a little attitude but you thought it was cute. You told him he was cute when he was angry once, and he was at such a loss for words. He couldn't look at you for the rest of the day. You had to stand so very close to him that your chest almost touched him and ask him if he was ok. He knew you were doing it on purpose, but he wouldn't dare let his thoughts of you go beyond thoughts.

Kyle noticed something. Simon's hands. They were shaking. Putting wires on somebody shouldn't take so long, but Kyle knew why. They all knew: Y/N was having her fun with them.

Simon couldn't focus. He was sitting on the bed when you came in, and you immediately stood in front of him, "You ready for me, Simon?"

Cherries. Was all he could think of. That's what you smelled like. You heard Simon swallow hard, and you were pretty sure Kyle heard it too. Simon had his mask on, but you could tell from the way that his eyes quickly darted between you and the wires. And his hands trembling ever so slightly as he brought up the wired to your hip.

"Lift the band for me," He asked in a low voice.

"Like this?" You lifted the band of your panties ever so slightly so he could attach a small tracker the size of a dime on the inside. His hands touched your soft skin and it took everything in his power to not engulf you with his whole body.

You were working together. You had a mission. This was a mission.

But you were so close to him. Out of all four members of Task Force 141, Simon was the only one who'd been this close to you and seen your tattoos up close. He doesn't know what came over him, but he was sure that if he licked the dark pink tattoo on your lower stomach, it'd taste like candied cherries. He was sure of it.

He cursed under his breath when he dropped the little chip in his lap and tried to re-attached him.

"Is the material too soft, Simon? I have another set I can put on."

Simon could barely look up at you, then shook his head, "No, it's fine. These are just so small." Both Kyle and Johnny heard it too. Both of them collectively curse in their minds.

Maybe they'd see her in the other set? What did it look like? Was it pink also?

Once finished, you stepped away from Simon and examined yourself in the mirror. Simon had hidden the wires and trackers well and could breathe again.

Price appeared in the doorway again, asking if you were ready, keeping his hat low as he watched you slip into the dress.

"Just about, just need an extra hand-" You held the dress up and walked up to Price, turned around and moved your hair to the side, waiting for him to help you zip up your dress.

Simon, Kyle, and Johnny looked at you and Price with wide eyes. They'd never seen their Captain so... tense. Price was almost afraid to touch you. His hands felt clammy. He swallowed hard and wiped his hands on his pants before carefully zipping up your dress. His hands were so warm against your skin. He cursed internally when he saw that your tattoos extended from your lower abdomen, around your hips, and crept up your lower back.

The things you've done to these men. The thoughts that have crossed their minds. You looked up at Price ask asked if he was done.

God, he'd never imagined he'd see you from this angle. You looked almost angelic, but he knew-

Captain Price knew, there was something a little more in your eyes that made him question how angelic you really were. And Lord help him with how badly he wanted to find out how much you would actually wreck him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @loadedberetta @sarahs-secrets2 @whore4dilfs @addy3114 @ollie71526483 @blueoorchid

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 8 months ago

Text

Why Should I Worry? (Filis O. Seaveworth)

Content Warning: Passionate kissing towards the end, spoilers for the Playful Land event, kidnapping (canon event), child abduction (canon event), mention of menstrual period

Note: Filis uses he/him and she/her pronouns throughout the story. She goes by he/him when under the moniker of Henry W. Taon. Filis O. Seaveworth/Henry W. Taon, Persayis N. Siofra, Liling Trieu, Revon C. Crowley, Alyssum Desrosiers, and Juliusz A. Bauer all belong to me. A few characters mentioned (surnames Sharnaz, Thazeen, and Fardowsa), as well as Arty, also belong to me. There are a lot in this one folks, haha.

Additional Note: This is a repost of a story of mine, with a few minor changes. It's over 11k words, so sit down and get comfy!

“Don’t forget to read pages one hundred seventy-two through one hundred eighty-eight,” reminded the assistant professor to the students. “The information found within the text will be on tomorrow’s test.”

A series of grumbles and groans followed the pupils as they walked out of the classroom and into the hall, off to lunch. Henry reorganized their desk space, restacking books on the left and sorting papers that needed to be graded on the right. He placed the feathered pen back in its inkwell, right after making sure said inkwell wasn’t in need of a refill. Once the desk was properly sorted, he erased the chalkboard directly behind him, then wrote down the instructions for the start of class with a piece of crisp white chalk. After dusting off his hands with the cloth used for that specific purpose, Henry walked down the aisles of student desks, making sure no one had left any belongings or trash behind. Satisfied that everything was in order for the next class, Henry gathered his things from the little cabinet next to the door. The strap of his canvas bag looped over his shoulder, the assistant teacher exited the room and headed to the cafeteria.

It was a pretty day outside. The sky was clear, the sun was shining, the air seemed sweet. The man’s calico cat ears twitched as they listened to a few birds chirp below, likely perched in a tree or on a bench. He couldn’t help but flick out his tongue for a taste of that sweet wind as a gentle breeze blew by. Henry quickly retracted that tongue as two students passed him from behind; he gave them a polite wave of greeting, which they returned with a smile before they continued on. The stress of teaching class slowly trickled its way out of his mind and body. It would soon return, likely in the afternoon once the school day was done, yet Henry didn’t mind too much.

Night Raven College was exactly where the beastkin wanted to be. For years they’ve dreamt of being a teacher - to get an opportunity to be a professor at their alma mater was extra special! Henry had applied for the position of assistant professor on a whim, not believing he would even get an interview. How surprised he was when the headmage himself contacted him and set one up with him. It was Trein that had recommended Henry for the position; the same man who wrote Henry’s letter of recommendation for his university of choice shortly before he graduated from Night Raven. Now, here Henry was: an assistant to Professor Trein, and a candidate for his replacement upon his retirement. Life couldn’t be better!

“Mr. Toan!” Henry stalled his stride as someone called his name. He turned to see a student approaching him: Ortho Shroud. The teacher smiled as the robotic boy approached, books clutched to his chest. His big yellow eyes practically twinkled as he gazed up at the beastkin; the new freshman looked quite smart in his new model, fashioned after the uniform for Ignihyde first years. “I decided to write about the lost city of Atlantis for my history paper. Can you recommend some books to read to help with my research?”

Henry chuckled to himself - there was at least one freshman eager to learn. “I think I can help with that. How about we reconvene at the library after the day is done? We can decide on the best options together.”

Ortho nodded eagerly. “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you so much, sir!” As the boy began to levitate back the way he came, he gave the teacher a friendly wave. “I’ll see you later!”

Henry waved back, right up until the boy disappeared around a corner. Not every student could be so dedicated. Although, Henry supposed he could sympathize with those who despised anything to do with education, at least to a degree. Back when he was a student, Henry always struggled with master chef and conjuration. He was barely able to pass those classes with a high mark, and that took a lot of struggle and studying, trial and error. Even now, as an adult working on their master’s degree, Henry still found those subjects to be quite troublesome. Not everyone could be like him and be stubborn enough to keep trucking along without giving up.

As Henry reached the road leading to the cafeteria, he paused and winced, placing a hand on his hip. The faintest grimace crossed his face, eyelids falling shut as he swallowed the whimper that threatened to escape his lips. Great Seven, what a pain! If it were up to Henry, that was one thing they would do away with. However, as he was still considering what he wanted from that part of life, he’d neglected to look into any sort of surgery to permanently fix the problem. After a small hiss, followed by a deep breath, Henry opened his eyes and let his hand fall back to his side.

“Hey, you okay?”

Henry glanced over at the woman that now stood beside him. “Yes, I’m alright.”

“That time again, huh?” she suggested with a smile.

“Not quite, but it’s getting close.”

“You want to come with me to the infirmary?” she offered. “I’m heading there anyway; we can pick you up some painkillers.”

That did sound nice. Henry checked the watch on their wrist - yes, he should still have enough time to grab a bite to eat afterwards. “Yes, I’ll come with,” he said with a smile.

It wasn’t that long of a walk, really. Within about ten minutes they were there, engaging in polite conversation even after they’d entered the nurse’s office. The ghost on shift gave the two a nod of acknowledgement as they entered. Once it was returned and the pair shut the door behind them, the nurse attendant went back to his business, making beds at the end of the room. There were no students in the room; as the ghost was privy to Henry’s situation, there was no reason to hide whilst there.

“How’s that binder treating you?” Revon asked as she handed Henry - Filis - the bottle of painkillers.

Filis let out a sigh as she fetched herself a styrofoam cup and filled it with water from the sink faucet. “I’m wondering if it’s for me. It’s awfully suffocating, and it only makes my cramps worse when my period comes.”

Revon hummed in thought. “You think you need a bigger size? Maybe one made of a different material?”

Filis shook her head as she sat down in a chair next to one of the beds close to the door. “No… I’ll probably just stop wearing it.” She placed the cup of water on the small side table next to her and opened the bottle of pills, pouring two into her open palm before closing it. “I’m so used to wearing sweaters and cardigans that I won’t feel much of a difference. I doubt any student will bat an eye, either, as that’s my usual fashion.”

Revon watched as Filis put the pills in her mouth and swallowed them down with a few gulps of water. “Well, at least you tried. You’re right, it’s definitely not for everyone.” She met Filis’s eye as she placed her cup on the table. “You think your regular bra will keep you from, y’know…bouncing?”

Filis let out a small, quiet laugh. “There’s barely anything to bounce!” She patted her chest. “These have been kept hidden since I came here as a freshman. No one noticed then - I don’t think they will now, especially with the layers I wear.”

Revon nodded. She paused for a moment, thinking something over. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” Filis shook her head. “This is probably a dumb question, as I’m sure you went over your options before applying here, but you never thought to teach at a girls’ school? You certainly wouldn’t have to hide anything there,” she paused a second time, briefly, then finished her thought with, “though I’ll admit I don’t know why you even hide you’re a woman here. We’ve been accepting female students for a while now.”

Filis shrugged. “Force of habit, I guess? I told you that, when I enrolled here, it was before Crowley opened the school’s doors to all genders.” She shot Revon a smile, “No thanks to you, I assume.”

Revon put on a coy smile of her own as she shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Who can say?~”

It still was a little unbelievable who her father was, honestly. Filis nearly fell out of her chair when that little fact was revealed to her. “I guess it just might be kind of weird to some? I mean, I’ve masqueraded as a boy since I was sixteen. A part of me will always be Henry Wendall. Taon - switching over to Filis Olivia. Seaveworth won’t change that.” She took another sip of her water. “I also don’t want anyone to start treating me differently, whether due to my gender or my name.”

Her family name, to be exact. It wasn’t always Seaveworth, but upon her adoption Filis was thrust into high society. It felt like whiplash the first year or so, and while she’d grown used to it, the status came with its drawbacks. People kissing up to you and stop considering you a person and more of a prospect, for example. Filis was quite happy with being Henry W. Taon - Mr. Taon to many - for now. She likely would make the change to her actual name at some point, but for now she was happy with where she was.

“Well,” Revon began, “if you ever do decide to make the big reveal while you’re here, I can promise you I’ll handle any backlash or trouble that might come with it. No one should really bat an eye, since people transition and take new pronouns all the time, but there will always be some people.” Revon flipped a few tresses of hair over her shoulder for effect. “And I oh so love to deal with those types of people.”

Oh, Filis was well aware of that. She recalled the last time Revon had to wrangle an angry parent, and when she previously had to give a student a very stern talking to. Each for a separate reason, yet each held one similarity: those types of individuals were downright rude and entitled and did not know when to quit. The only reason Filis let Revon deal with her share of those miscreants instead of taking care of it herself was, as bad as it might sound, Revon had daddy’s protection. Seven held the one who tried to touch the headmage’s little bird. For how often he hinted at threats concerning his daughter, everyone and their mother knew he was serious.

“True identity aside, I really do like it here,” Filis added. “I would like to stay here as long as possible, even if I don’t take Mozus’ place when he retires. My family worked too hard to get me here as a student; I’m not going to back out now when I’m about to reach the goal they’ve supported since then.”

Revon knew which family she was referring to. “You know, if you don’t win a teacher’s award at some point, I’m going to peck out the eyes of whoever’s in charge of handing them out.”

Filis laugh was louder this time. “Do not!”

“Whaaat?” Revon mused. “They’ll never know it was me! It’ll just be some random bird with a mysterious vendetta.”

Filis felt a little sad Revon, Divus, Sam, and Ashton weren’t in her class during her time as a student. She believed those years would’ve been extra amounts of fun with them around. There truly wouldn’t have been much reason for worry.

Filis, currently Henry, watched as all the students filed in. He - she - gave a polite greeting to each that walked in; whether or not they replied at all depended on the person. Filis could discern which had gotten a full night’s rest and which decided to pull an all-nighter by the looks on their faces. Each placed stapled stacks of papers on the desk, right in the little basket Filis had set out to retrieve them. A few she could already tell would have poor grades, as they were either one page only or sparsely written. Those were from the usual suspects, of course. There was teenage rebellion and angst aplenty about the school.

When the last student took their seat, Filis grew a little puzzled. A few of them were absent, she realized. The first she noticed was Ortho, whose bright, joyful orbs of sparkling yellow had not greeted her at all that day, as they often did. The boy always tried to arrive early, especially attentive to his studies. Filis had been looking forward to reading his paper, which he’d been working so hard on the past two weeks. The memory of them picking out books at the library for Ortho’s research on Atlantis still hung fresh in her mind.

The other freshmen missing were Ace Trappola and Jack Howl. The former wasn’t too surprising, but the latter? Goodness, had they all fallen ill? Perhaps they partook in too much fast food or candy or some other treat that they overindulged in over the recent weekend, and now they were all sick in their beds? Wait, that didn’t make much sense for Ortho. The cybernetic boy couldn’t exactly eat, given his anatomy - his entire physical body. Filis didn’t feel like he and Jack would skip class with Ace, either.

When Trein arrived moments later, Filis pointed out the missing students. According to him, he hadn’t heard about anything befalling the three that would prevent them from attending class. While he brushed off the absence of Trappola, given his record, the professor stated he would check-in with the status of Shroud and Howl later. So, trying not to worry, Filis went on about her day. The majority of the first and second classes were spent reading and grading research papers, which was a very time consuming task. Thankfully, there were only a few times she pulled Trein aside for a second opinion on a student’s work.

It was one of those times when Filis noticed that there were other students missing from the lineup. This occurred in the second class of the day, which included sophomores. There were five missing this time: Jade and Floyd Leech, Liling Trieu, and Kalim Al-Asim. Jamil Viper was also absent. Later in the day, when everyone breaked for lunch, she was able to figure out where Jamil had gone off to. Apparently, according to Divus, Jamil had taken the day off to search for Kalim - the Al-Asim heir was missing. Filis’ colleagues, including Crowley himself, were looking into the matter at the moment, though how much Crowley would actually do was up for debate.

When it was time for the last class of the day, Filis truly began to worry. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Leona Kingscholar to be absent, and only a little odd for Cater Diamond to be. For Vil Schoenheit, Lilia Vanrouge, Persayis N. Siofra, Juliusz A. Bauer, and Trey Clover though? Fourteen students were missing. That was no coincidence. It was certainly cause for alarm; while Filis and Trein remained calm for the duration of class, afterwards an emergency meeting was held in Crowley’s office.

“Oh, you know how children are,” Dire Crowley mused. “They’ve likely skipped class to go off and make some mischief! I’m sure they will be back soon.”

“They are missing, dad!” Revon bit back. “Sure, a few of them like to skip class from time to time; they could have probably snuck off campus. But Vil? Persayis? They’ve nary missed a single day of school! Why would they suddenly take flight now?”

The man that was somehow the father of such a woman shrugged, in much the same way she would. “Youthly rebellion?”

Revon looked as though she might blow a fuse. It almost appeared as though her eyes were beginning to glow, her teeth grit in rage. Before a brawl could ensue, Trein spoke up. “I highly advise that we investigate the matter. Even if this turns out to be something trivial, it is our duty to assure the safety of our students. They could be in great peril.”

“I took it upon myself to question some of their peers,” Divus interjected. “Viper was the first to raise alarm; Hunt, Felmier, Bucchi, Rosehearts, Thazeen, Spade, Fardowsa, and the older Shroud were soon to follow. Just before I came to this meeting, Ashengrotto and Sharnaz also came to me with their concerns.”

“Draconia and his two attendants came to me earlier during our flying lessons,” Vargas piped up. He cut his eyes at Crowley. “They told me they’d come to you about Vanrouge and Siofra this morning, but said you just assured he’d turn up eventually.”

The headmage was slowly being backed into a corner. “I am well aware of the maturity of those two. I simply thought they might be out. Who are we to keep two legal adults under wraps?”

“When they’re loved ones don’t even know where they are?” Revon practically spat. “If I were the one missing, you’d be turning the whole island on its head!”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. It was Sam who broke the momentary silence. “Might I add that one of the little imps that’s MIA is the prince of the Sunset Savanna. Tell me, wise headmage: what would happen if word were to get back to his family - his brother, the current king regent, that his own flesh and blood went off the radar whilst attending this school? If I were him, I’d certainly have a number of questions.” He brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve. “Not to mention his highness’s current lover, who I’ve heard the king regent and his wife are very fond of.”

Filis could almost make out the sweat beading under Crowley’s shirt collar. There was no need for another push. The rest of the meeting was spent discussing how to proceed, aside from contacting the authorities and tracking down the students’ last known location. Each staff member had their part of play; unfortunately for Filis, hers was the smallest. She was to go back to Trein’s office and grade the rest of the second year’s research papers, and then go back to her living quarters for the evening. “I do not give you the task out of a lack of trust in you,” Trein explained to his assistant before he sent her on her way. “You simply do not yet possess the necessary experience to handle a situation like this.”

Though it did nothing to quell Filis’ unease, she wasn’t offended. Mozus was right: she had never experienced a crisis like this. While she certainly hoped one of this magnitude hadn’t occurred in the past, Mozus and the rest of the staff were certainly trained in the procedures one should follow in these circumstances. Filis would be sure to ask to be trained in these as soon as the students were found and everything was settled. The beastwoman could barely concentrate on her work - her attention kept going back to her students. She could picture them all in her mind’s eye, their faces clear as day. Ortho stood out the most, his pupils full of excitement and wonder, curious about the world around him and willing to do whatever it took to explore it.

Filis imagined their friends and loved ones were just as distraught. Whether their relationship be platonic, romantic, or familial, their hearts were likely being ripped to shreds now. Filis recalled Divus stating that Idia told him he couldn’t locate his brother via the tracker planted within his body. It was as though the boy had disappeared off the face of Twisted Wonderland! “It’s like he just floated out into the sea and poof! Gone!” For a young man that barely got any sleep to begin with, Filis reckoned he wouldn’t droop an eye anytime soon.

Filis sighed as she put down her ballpoint pen, letting it roll across the desk before coming to a stop beside a paperweight. She laid her head in the center of her folded arms, placed atop the desk as a makeshift pillow. Where could they be? Where had they run off to? They couldn’t have taken the mirror - her colleagues would have been able to track that. There was no way they could get off the island without being seen. They couldn’t just up and disappear without a trace!

As Filis thought and thought, picking her brain for any sort of clue, a memory came to mind. It was just yesterday, in fact, when it occurred. Ortho had come to her again in the late afternoon, returning a paperclip he’d borrowed earlier in the day. There was no need to give it back, but the boy was so kind and well-mannered he didn’t like the thought of taking something from Filis - Mr. Taon - like that. As Filis did not want anything in return, Ortho felt it was only right to give back what she’d lended him. “If you receive kindness, you should give it in return,” he’d told her. What a sweet boy…

She and the student made small talk before going their separate ways. Filis recollected Ortho telling her about a ticket he received earlier in the day. It was for some carnival or fair, if Filis remembered right. “I wanted my brother to come with me, but he doesn’t like things like that. He thinks it’s a bad idea… I still hope I can go. It sounds like a lot of fun!”

“It does,” Filis concurred then. “What is it for again? I don’t remember any news of a festival being held in town.”

“It’s a traveling amusement park!” Ortho had replied to her, looking ecstatic by the prospect. “It’s called Playful Land! You can only enter if you have a ticket. I’m so pleased I got one! I’ve never been to an amusement park before.”

Playful Land. The name had sounded familiar, but Filis couldn’t recall where she’d heard it then, and couldn’t now. Who’d given Ortho such a rare opportunity. A once in a lifetime venture, from the sound of it. The fact he disappeared the day after he’d regaled Filis of the entry ticket he’d received for it… Could the other students have gotten similar tickets? She further remembered Ortho telling her about going into town with some of his friends that day…

Filis reached into the pocket of her black slacks and took out a silver coin. It’d been given to her long ago by Arty: a member of her found family, the one she gained before her adoption. It was a good luck charm of sorts, one he gifted to her when she was just nine years old. Back then she wore a shirt and pants that were two sizes too big, a scruffy hand-me-down jacket with sleeves that went over her hands, and thrifted brown boots. She smiled fondly at the old memory, feeling nostalgic for those bygone days. If you’d told her little self that she’d one day have more riches than she knew what to do with, she would’ve believed you were a scam artist trying to sell her something. They were a dime a dozen in that part of town.

“Take it as a reminder, kid,” Arty had told her, wearing a pair of black shades. Filis always thought they made him look cool. “There will always be bad times, but good things will eventually come your way. Don’t get your tail up in a knot about it.” She remembered how he slid his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and sent her a wink, paired with that devil-may-care smile. “Why should you worry?”

Neither of them knew that, years later, she would name her signature spell after that motto. No one could have known where her life would lead her. The coin she held in the crook of her thumb and forefinger, its old metal faintly clinting in the dim lamplight, was a daily reminder of where she came from. She would never forget, and never be ashamed. She was Filis Olivia - give or take the Seaveworth title. Good times were around the corner; everything would work out, just like it always did.

“Why Should I Worry?”

From the rim of the coin shot out a beam of light - not too bright, not too dim. Its soft blue hue matched that of Filis’ favorite color, the same shade as the pullover sweater she wore over her white button up. She sat herself up and stood from her chair, leaving the many papers - graded and ungraded - behind. From her canvas bag, left open beside the desk, Filis grabbed her magic pen. It was the same one she received in her freshman year at the college; somehow, she’d managed to keep it looking relatively new. Only the magetone was new, having been replaced the year prior. It matched the same shade of blue as the stream of light that led her out the door and off Night Raven College campus.

Filis’ brow furrowed as she reached the edge of the dock. What in the world…? The beam of light, still emanating from her lucky coin, stretched out to sea. It seemed to stop towards the middle of the expanse, but Filis couldn’t be sure. For all she knew, it could lead her many miles out, far away from Sage Island. This was certainly dangerous. She had to be smart if she wanted to get her and the students back to the college safely.

Filis noticed that the lights of the island’s library were still on. Though it was a little past closing time, Filis tried the door anyway. Thankfully, it opened, the bell of above chiming as she entered. “We’re closed,” came a voice from within. Filis approached the front desk; a few minutes later, a man only half a decade older than her emerged from the back. He didn’t look too pleased to see her, likely eager to go home for the night. Filis recognized him, and he recognized her, his facial expression shifting to one of surprise.

“I’m sorry to come in so late, Alyssum,” Filis said with an apologetic smile.

“For you to come in after closing, it must be important.” He placed his hands against the desk and leaned forward, their ponytail - this time, it was tied back with a teal ribbon rather than blue - falling over their shoulder. “Do you need to check something out for a class?”

“No, not tonight. I need a favor.”

The librarian raised a brow. “And that would be…?”

“Can I leave a note here with you? I hope you won’t have to deliver it, but it’s a precautionary measure.”

Their expression shifted to one of concern. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Filis admitted. “But my student may very well be.” Filis glanced down at the coin in her hands, the beam of light balancing on its edge pointed slightly to the side, out the window and towards the sea. Alyssum couldn’t see it, of course - he’d be even more puzzled if so. She put it in her pocket for now. “I think I know where they are. It’s risky, but I need to go now, before something bad happens.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.” She pointed to a small basket of blank sheets of paper. “Can I have one of those?”

Alyssum retrieved her one, along with a black pen. With haste, Filis scribbled down where she was going, and where her colleagues should look. She then folded the note and handed it to Alyssum. “Give this to the headmage at Night Raven College if I’m not back here by lunchtime tomorrow. Please.”

With some hesitance, Alyssum accepted the note. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to wait until the proper authorities arrive? I could give them a call.”

“I can’t wait that long.” Filis was determined to get to her students as quickly as possible. To wait any longer may put them in further peril. “I’m sorry to put you up to this. When I come back, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yes, when.” Alyssum cut a stern look at their frequent patron. “Not if. I swear, if you wind up missing, too, I’ll hunt you down myself!”

Filis’ ears perked up in surprise. “You’ve heard?”

The librarian shook his head. “Not a word, but I can put the pieces together.” He rolled his eyes. “A proper headmage you have over there.” Filis couldn’t argue with that. Alyssum sighed as he said, “Alright, I’ll do as you ask, if needed be.” He stood up straight again as he added, “I expect you back here a few minutes before lunch.”

Filis smiled from cheek to cheek. “Thank you.”

Alyssum watched her go, right up until the library door shut behind her. As Filis reapproached the peer, descended the stairs to the dock, she picked her magic pen out of her pocket and raised it in the air. She mumbled an incarnation under her breath, one she’d repeated probably a million times. Just as she reached the edge of the dock, something swished over from above her. Slowly, the woman’s broom floated down, the initials H.W.T carved into the wooden handle. Beside that was painted a tiny blue bow, and in the center of that was an even tinier painted yellow bell. Another reminder of her family back home - who, without a doubt, would do something crazy like this for her.

Filis pulled her broom over by the hand before mounting it. Usually she’d give herself a mental pat on the back for no longer being nervous to ride the thing, let alone fly, but now was not the time for such sentiments. Before she disembarked, she looped the button of her pants pocket into its hole, shutting the opening. That would prevent her lucky coin from slipping out of her pocket mid flight. The beam of light passed through the dark fabric, still trailing out to sea. Filis took a deep breath as she set her sights out on the horizon, swallowing any fear she might have and building up her courage. As she exhaled, she took off on her broom, following the blue trail.

About thirty-five minutes passed before the light began to reach its end. Filis squeezed her magic pen a little tighter as she approached her destination. She grew troubled as she neared the end of the trail. There was nothing there. Her heart began to sink, her mind coming up with all sorts of horrid possibilities. They couldn’t be… How would they…?

She gasped as she passed through something thick, as though she were flying through pea soup. It was cold and tingly, kind of like when she traveled by magic mirror. Her ears flattened against her head; every piece of fur and hair on her person stood on-end. Filis’ left hand gripped her broom tight, as did her right around her pen. She shut her eyes, pushing forward and forward and forward. Then, after what was probably only a few seconds, it stopped. Filis flinched as bright lights suddenly appeared in front of her closed eyelids.

When she opened them, she gasped again as she looked down at the new landscape she’d just entered. It was an amusement park! There was a gigantic roller coaster at the rear, a humongous eight ball to her left, a sprawling mansion behind the eight ball, and a water ride that ran the length of the north side of the park - all spaced out between funhouses and food stalls and colorful tents. When she looked ahead, Filis beheld a grand theater, bright lights highlighting its rich red curtains, gilded gold trimmings, and black and white striped stage. Filis slowed her speed, barely above a drift as she began to lower herself to the ground. She swept strands of hair away from her face, clearing her vision. As she descended, she observed various broken wooden figures scattered about the place, though a few here and there still remained in one piece.

“Puppets?” Filis mumbled to herself, curiously looking about. A few miles away, there stood the remnants of some building, now a shadow of its former self. Now that she got a better look at the land around her, the place was an absolute mess! It was like a stampede had run through, tearing apart everything in sight! “What happened here?” she whispered.

Her ears perked up as she heard a noise come from somewhere behind her. It came a second time, then a third. Filis quickly realized it was a voice, what’s more one she recognized. That had to be Ace! Another voice cried out after him: Kalim! They sounded like they were in trouble! Filis hopped off her broom and left it behind as she ran towards the theater, the source of their cries, magic pen at the ready.

She slowed to a stop as she neared the towering curtains framing the stage. There were other people with them, she realized. However, the voice that spoke now wasn’t familiar. It sounded like an older man, ordering someone else to put another in a cage “with the other one.” Filis crouched down and itched over to the entrance, discreetly taking a peek behind the curtain on the right. She had to hold in the gasp that dared to rip from her throat. All the missing students were there, in cages, and Filis was just in time to watch an unconscious Persayis be thrown into the one that contained Lilia.

Filis waited for the man to come to her side, to embrace and comfort her, perhaps try to wake her. To Filis’ surprise he didn’t move - not an inch. A rabid fury raged behind those dark eyes, yet the fae refused to budge. Could he not move? Filis glanced around at the other students - most of them weren’t moving, either. That was her biggest hint her assumption was correct, given that Floyd would have been throwing a fit in his predicament, especially since his little girlfriend, Liling, was trapped along with him.

Those poor things…Ace and Kalim were the only ones who seemed to still possess the ability to move. They protested and resisted, unwilling to back down, though it seemed Kalim was beginning to give in. Suddenly, a cell phone rang. It was only then Filis noticed a beastman standing a short several feet away from the cages. She figured he must be in cahoots with the smaller one, who just finished closing the cage holding Lilia and Persayis. The little one, just a bit younger than sixteen, put his droopy eyed gaze on the taller man, who excused himself to answer the phone. The boy, his partner in crime, did not follow.

It was then Filis witnessed just how cunning her students could be. Ace began to appeal to the younger boy, talking about his time at Night Raven College. A few of his classmates - thankfully, they at least still possessed the ability to speak - soon joined in, recalling all their misadventures at the school. The little boy, whose clothes were way too big for his body, seemed intrigued by their stories. He clutched his toy hammer in his hands, nearly equaling him in height. His large pupils and bright green orbs sparkled in wonderment, much like Ortho’s when he was beholding something that amazed him. Despite this, when Ace tried to coax the boy into freeing them, so they could take him back to Night Raven and show him what a good time he could have there, the beastman shrunk back and shook his head.

Something compelled Filis to step out of hiding. She stepped out from behind the curtain, the sound of her footsteps catching everyone’s attention. “Mr. Taon?!” Kalim yelled in surprise, but was hastily and vehemently shushed by his underclassman. From behind Ace and Kalim, Filis could see Persayis was starting to come to. Unlike the others present, she wasn’t wearing a mask. Could those masks be the key to their predicament?

Filis decided to figure that out later. For now, she focused on the small boy before her, droopy eyes now wider than before as they stared up at her. He appeared afraid, hammer at the ready to wallop her. If it could do much damage to begin with. She put on a friendly smile, holding up her hand to silently shush him. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Against her better judgment, she put her magic pen away in her right pocket. Her lucky coin, kept safe in her left one, still beamed that ray of blue light. It passed the boy and shot in the direction of where that other man had gone. So, he was the one Filis was supposed to find. She’d deal with him soon enough. She bent down a little as she maintained eye contact with the beastman, trying to get down on his level.

“My name is F-” She stopped herself, recalling who she was around. “Mr. Taon. You can call me Henry, if you want.” The boy still appeared unsure, but there was now a curious glimmer in his gaze. “I’m an assistant teacher at Night Raven College.” She pointed towards the cages.

“Those are my students over there. I was worried when they didn’t come to class, so I came looking for them.” Filis knew outright accusing the boy of kidnapping them, helping that other man imprison them and Seven knew what else, would be a bad move. She wracked her brain for what she’d been taught at her university, recalling how to talk to children his age. “What’s your name?” she asked. The boy didn’t answer - he simply stared up at her.

“His name’s Gidel,” Ace offered up from within his cage. “He can’t speak.”

Oh, so that's why the little cat was so quiet. She wondered if he knew sign language. To test her theory, Filis asked Gidel in sign, “Do you understand this?” Gidel continued to stare at her, this time with a wisp of confusion across his face. Well, there was her answer. “Did you see what I did with my hands? That’s called sign language.”

Gidel tilted his head to the side and blinked, growing evermore curious. He wanted to know more. “It’s a language specifically designed for people like you,” she explained. “It takes a while to learn,” she gave him an encouraging smile, “but I think you could get the hang of it!” This next question was a little stupid, but if it got Gidel to communicate, it was worth a shot. “Have you ever been to school?”

Gidel shook his head ‘no.’ What? That was strange…boys like him should be coming into middle school by now. She glanced in the direction of where the older beastman had disappeared. Just what had he been doing with this child, not giving him an education? That was all sorts of neglect! This boy might be as much of a victim as her students were.

She tore her gaze away from the backstage area and turned her attention back to Gidel. Filis kept her voice calm and light, as if she were talking to a friend. “Do you think you’d like to learn sign language?” Gidel paused for a moment, thinking the prospect over. Then the most adorable of little smiles crossed his face as he nodded his head. “Well, I’d love to teach you. I could make some time for it after my classes back at the college.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Kalim piped up, seeming a little more chipper than before. “Mr. Taon’s a great teacher! He helped me when I was having trouble with my History of Magic class.” Kalim looked very proud of himself, chest puffed out and grinning from ear to ear as he added, “I passed my exam with high marks!”

“Yeah, what he said!” It was Ace that spoke up this time. “Mr. Taon got Professor Trein off my back when I didn’t turn in my homework one time. He even convinced him to give me a little more time to turn it in! I’m sure he’ll stick his neck out for you, too.” Ace sure hadn’t expressed his thanks before - it felt good to hear him say that about her. Filis’ confidence got a little boost, which caused her smile to brighten.

“School can be hard,” Filis said honestly. “But it is also a lot of fun! You can learn so many things, and it can lead to you doing something you really like to do.”

“And get paid for it!” Ace added. Gidel certainly perked up at that. So, money was a motivating factor for him. Filis could sympathize - she knew what it was like to go without.

“Mr. Taon let me pick out the topic for my research paper!” Filis finally noticed Ortho, who was stationed in a cage a little behind Ace and Kalim. He was dressed like a little drummer boy, Filis thought. “It was so much fun to learn about Atlantis! It’s an ancient city that existed long ago and-” Ortho stopped himself. “Oh, I shouldn’t spoil it; Mr. Taon hasn’t read it yet!”

Filis’ heart melted at the young Shroud’s excitement. He’d worked really hard on his report, reading over every single page of the books Filis helped him pick out. She couldn’t wait to sit back and read what he’d written.

“A boy your age should be surrounded by other children.” Every head - that could move - turned to look at Persayis, who seemed to have just come to. Though she appeared to have not come around fully, she offered Gidel a kind smile. “You would be able to make friendships that last a lifetime.”

Gidel flinched away from the fae. There was an apparent fear in his eyes, his little body trembling a tad. Persayis’s smile was replaced by a look of shame and sadness, tucking herself as far out of sight as she could. Though he could not move, Lilia’s eyes portrayed his wish to comfort the poor thing. Filis pondered what could have happened before she arrived that made the boy so afraid of Persayis. She supposed she would receive the answer at a later date. “I really would love for you to come back with us,” Filis said, regaining Gidel’s attention. She held out a hand towards him in peace, “I promise to help you in any way I can.”

Gidel stared at her in silence, blinking every other second. He studied her like that for a few long moments, expression unreadable. Then, with barely a sound, he turned and walked away, in the direction where the other man had gone. Filis’ heart sank - she didn’t convince him. Gidel likely went off to tell the man about her, an intruder, so he could come and take her down. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. What to do, what to do…

Filis noticed Kalim and Ace had gone stark still, along with Ortho. Oh no, she was running out of time! She bolted over to the boys and asked in a rush, “What’s happened to you?”

“The masks,” Kalim answered, struggling to speak. “They’re stuck to our faces; they’re gonna turn us into wooden puppets!”

Filis felt sick to her stomach. That’s what was happening to them? They were slowly being turned into dolls?

“It’s an ancient curse.” Filis whipped her head around as Persayis spoke up, a little more awake now than she’d been before. “Before, when we were given the masks, I got a feeling I’d seen them before. I discreetly tossed mine away and made a replica with my own magic while I tried to figure out where they’d come from.” She hung her head, tears in her eyes. “I realized when it was far too late.”

“Is there a way to break it?” Filis asked, trying to keep her cool.

“We couldn’t,” came her reply. “Only the caster can dispel the curse. There is another way, but we do not have the materials necessary.” Persayis raised her head to look up at Lilia. “If it would even work now.” It was apparent she was trying to not break down crying. “I’m so sorry…”

With great strain, Lilia managed a smile, a silent way to tell his love it was not her fault. It was all so heartbreaking… To think this could be their fate, and there was nothing Filis or anyone could do to stop it. …No, there was a way. Filis ripped her magic pen out of her pocket. She spun around and began to march in the direction Gidel and that other man had gone. If that man was the caster, he could break the curse - Filis would make him if it was the last thing she ever did.

Filis didn’t make it far. A few steps in and the two appeared from around the corner. The three paused simultaneously in their stride, shocked to see her standing there, more-so the older beastman beside Gidel. He appeared to be a fox beastman, now that Filis got a closer look at him. His clothes were neat, yet patched up in certain areas. They were old, that was for certain. With her lower class upbringing, Filis could spot a person down on their luck from a mile away.

Filis directed her magic pen right at the man’s head. A low hiss rose from the back of her throat, teeth bared and body prepared for a fight. No matter what, she was going to free her students from their cages, from that horrible curse. She was their teacher, their protector. That man was not going to get away with this! There was no time for thoughts of failure or all that could go wrong.

Why should she worry?

“There you go,” Filis said, handing the boy his workbook. “Remember: finish pages twelve and thirteen, and then you’re finished for the day.” She pooped the little man on the nose; it crinkled as he smiled and closed his eyes on instinct, his freckles in full view. “And I mean it! You’ll burn yourself out if you study too much.”

He smiled and nodded, then turned around and trotted back to his room. He would sit at his little desk, in his comfy little chair, and do as he was instructed down to the letter. Gidel was such a diligent student, so eager to learn everything he could get his hands on. It was trouble enough to get him to stop working and be a kid and play! Filis smiled as she watched him go, right up until he disappeared from view. She then went back to cutting vegetables on the counter - something she herself had taken time to practice over the past two years. Filis was quite proud of her progress.

In the next room over, the front door opened. “Honey, I’m home!~” came a voice in a sing-song tone, followed by the door shutting. Filis rolled her eyes, smile now mocking as she shook her head as she continued to chop the carrot into thick, but not too thick slices. Footsteps entered the room behind her, followed by the sound of three brown paper bags being placed on the kitchen table. Those footsteps swiftly approached Filis from behind; before she could react, two arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her back against a strong chest. She gasped, almost dropping the knife as a kiss was pressed to her neck with an accentuated “mwah!”

“Fellow Honest, I have a knife!” Filis scolded, turning her head as far as she could to look back at the sneaky fox.

The man nonchalantly shrugged. “I’ve had worse.” Then proceeded to give Filis another lip smack, this time on her jaw.

Filis placed the knife on the cutting board, so neither one of them would get stabbed. Fellow rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, the silk blue bow tied at the back of her hair tickling his chin. Filis wrapped her arms around his own just as he placed a kiss on her scalp. “Someone’s clingy today,” she commented, a grin pulling at her mouth as he delivered a kiss to her ear.

Fellow made a hum in question. “Would you rather me be stoic and aloof and not shower you in kisses?”

Filis pretended to mull the prospect over. “Hm…if you were to act like that, I’d assume you were not who you said you were and proceed to beat you senseless until you told me where the real Fellow was.”

“Oh, come now, Filis!” The fox spun her around, releasing her from his hold in favor of addressing himself with his hand. “You really think someone could replicate my charms?~”

Without skipping a beat, Filis snapped back with, “Most likely.”

His expression shifted to one of surprise, thick brows scrunched in confusion, one rising in an arch. Then, just as quick, it switched to one of great pain and disappointment, Fellow’s ears flattening as he placed his hand over his heart. “To insult me so blatantly!” He sniffled. “And I thought you loved me.”

“Oh, don’t start that mess!” Filis lightly tugged at a lock of his bright orange hair. “Did you get everything we need for the stew?”

He threw out his previous theatrics and nodded. “All except the celery. They just ran out when I got to the market.”

Filis began to take the produce and other groceries out of the paper bags and set them on the kitchen table. “It’s alright, we can do without. We would have barely tasted it anyway.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Wash up and help me cut these up?”

Fellow swept down in a deep bow as he winked. “Your wish is my command, fair lady~”

Again, Filis rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. As Fellow turned on the kitchen sink faucet and proceeded to wash his hands, she couldn’t help but pause to watch him. In her mind, she could picture him in those elaborately patched clothes he wore when she’d met him. Fellow had looked like a ringmaster, but he’d mentioned to her before that that was the vibe he’d been going for. Nowadays, he often wore more casual attire: plain or graphic t-shirts, green cargo pants, a dark denim jacket, and a pair of black and white converse. Well, casual was the dress code unless Fellow was going to work, or some other time he needed to spruce himself up. The fox looked forward to dressing in such a manner, as he found it very fun.

In a way, he and Gidel both were still getting used to living in relative comfort, not having to scrounge for food or wear tattered, and sometimes oversized, clothing. It’d been a hard road since the two started fresh, right after the Playful Land fiasco. Filis had aided the duo when she could, one of the key helping hands being when she loaned Fellow enough money to attend career school. That was right after he obtained his GED, which Filis also helped out with in terms of studying. For all the bad cards dealt to the man throughout his life, Filis wasn’t surprised when he immediately grew suspicious of her generosity. Filis being part of the upper class was a deterring factor as well. That was until Filis took Fellow and Gidel with her to visit her family - not just her adoptive one.

The childrens’ home wasn’t as rickety and rugged as it was when Filis was a child, yet one could tell it lacked exceptional funds. The home only had two sponsors: the Seaveworth family and the government. While Filis’ adopted father poured a huge sum into the orphanage’s accounts every six months, it couldn’t buy everything. Even so, the Fifth Avenue Homestead was moving up in the world, slowly but surely. Filis always kept an eye out for other potential sponsors; recently, she’d even managed to get a charity organization to donate to the place. The home’s growth was documented with several photographs taken by its residents over the years. Gidel picked Filis out of many without much problem, and the look of her and everyone else back then gave Fellow a glimpse into just how similar their childhoods were, at least financially.

The romance was the unexpected bonus of the whole arrangement. It started out as a simple acquaintanceship; as Filis provided Gidel with an education, she lent a hand in Fellow advancing his and acquiring a suitable occupation. A little while later, Filis and her adoptive father began to set the groundwork for the school Fellow dreamed of opening for underprivileged children - with and without magical abilities. It would be located in a vacant townhouse just a couple blocks from where the three lived now. With a little remodeling, renovation, and the acquisition of study materials and other school necessities, it would be ready to open its doors. While Filis would be the face of the facility, it was only temporary until Fellow received his own teaching license. Just a little more saving, a little more hard work, and they could set that in motion, too.

To think she, a year and a half ago, wanted nothing more than to send the man flying into the Coral Sea. Under the circumstances, as well as Fellow’s own actions, no one could blame her - not even Fellow and Gidel. That pride had definitely been hard to swallow for the fox, but that was one thing he promised her he’d become more of: honest. It was a steep learning curve after lying and deceiving for so long, but Fellow was getting the hang of it. If there was one thing he’d never be able to shake though, it was his showmanship. One of many things Filis now loved about the beastman.

Suddenly, Filis was pushed out of memory lane as someone flicked her forehead. “Helloooo? Fili? Are you still with us?”

Filis blinked a couple times as she came back to reality. “Hm?”

“I turn around and you’re ogling me.” Fellow chuckled, smirk clear across his face. “Shameful! What if Gidel were to walk in? You’re supposed to be a role model for students, you know. Can’t be drooling over my good looks in front of the students, now can you?”

Filis scoffed. “The only reason I’ll be staring at you is to scold you for making a fool of yourself in front of the kids.” She flicked the tip of his nose, causing him to flinch and go cross eyed as he scrunched it. “You need to learn to behave yourself!”

“And let the little tikes die of boredom? Why, I would be more irresponsible not stealing them away for a game or two in-between classes.”

Filis placed her hands on her hips and shot the fox a mock glare. “Are you saying I’m not fun, Mr. Honest?”

Fellow laughed. “There is only so much fun to be had when it comes to learning, Filis.” He tucked his tongue into his cheek as he flicked his gaze to the side. “Especially when you’re learning about some dead guy’s good or bad deeds.”

Unlike Filis, Fellow never cared too much for history - or school in general. Filis knew from personal experience that, if Fellow had gone to a regular school in his youth, he would have been a pain in the ass to the teachers. “History is important and you know it!”

“Mhm mhm, when you make it interesting, sure.” To an outsider, they would think the two were in the midst of a lover’s quarrel. That couldn’t be further from the truth - they were just play-fighting. Catch them actually fighting and that was a spectacle to binge eat popcorn to. Fellow showcased his signature smug grin as he finished with, “How’s that, Mr. Taon?~”

Filis hadn’t been addressed by that name for a good six months now. It was bittersweet, leaving Night Raven College to open a school in the Shaftlands with Fellow. To become a professor at Night Raven was her dream; well, it was up until Fellow and Gidel entered her life. She remembered the night she made her decision, the one that would alter the course of her life. Filis had sat on her bed in her quarters on the college campus, lucky coin in hand. When she recited the incantation to produce her signature spell, the blue line of light that imitated from it sealed her fate. It shot out the window, away from the college and out towards the right side of Sage Island - where Fellow and Gidel were staying at a little bed and breakfast, visiting her for the weekend.

Sure, Filis wouldn’t mind using her old moniker in the future. It was going to be very odd for students to address her as Ms. Filis. She’d gotten a taste of that when the students present at Playful Land learned that she wasn’t who she said she was, nonetheless not a guy. Of course, they still addressed her as Mr. Taon for the rest of her time at the college, but outside of that? It was a little strange now, when she received letters from a few of her former students every other month or so. Her most frequent writer was who she came to call her star pupil: Ortho Shroud.

“I miss you being here,” he’d written to her once. “But I’m so glad you left to pursue your dreams! I’m still making good grades - I became an honor student! I hope Mr. Fellow and Gidel are doing okay, along with you, Ms. Filis!”

Sweet boy… Filis planned to visit Sage Island next month, right before finals week. While she was looking forward to seeing her old students, those who still attended the college, the little Shroud held a special place in her heart. Of course, her old colleagues would be delighted to see her as well. Filis still kept in contact with them, too, especially Mozus and Revon.

“Should you ever need guidance, know you can always call upon me,” Mozus had told her time and time again. Even professionals of the highest accreditation and excellence need a second opinion.”

“You three take care of yourselves!” Revon had said the last time Filis called her. “Send me pictures of the school once it's finished. Oh, and one of your first group of kids! I want to know every detail.” Before they’d hung up the phone, Revon mentioned one other thing. “Tell Fellow that, if he breaks your heart or does something stupid, I’ll break more than his ankles.” After that first meeting with the woman, shortly after the destruction of Playful Land, Fellow definitely took that to heart.

“Mr. Taon, Ms. Filis - doesn’t matter.” She poked his chest. “I demand, as your former tutor and your brother’s teacher, start chopping those vegetables, or we won’t have any dinner to speak of!”

“So demanding!” Fellow fished a hair tie out of his pants pocket and began to pull his hair back. “This must be what it’s like to be scolded by your mother,” he mused.

Filis forgot to reply. The calico cat was too busy watching her boyfriend do such a simple, domestic task. It was the little things that caught her attention when it came to her attraction towards him. The way he expertly twirled his hair between his fingers, effortlessly looping it through the hair tie. Though part of his biceps were hidden underneath the short sleeves of his plain white t-shirt, Filis could just make out them flexing underneath the cotton fabric. Fellow wasn’t overly bulky, nor could he be called a twink. To Filis, he was just right.

Once more, the fox caught the cat lost in her own head. He snickered to himself as he took a step towards her, this time booping her on the nose. “Hey, kitty, you’re staring again~”

Blood quickly rushed to Filis’ cheeks, clearly flustered. This time around, she slapped him on the arm. “Go chop the vegetables, now!”

“Ah ah ah~” The fox man tutted. “There’s a price to be paid for every show.” Fellow took another step forward, forcing Filis to take one back. Her lower back pressed up against the edge of the kitchen table, and she soon found herself leaning further backward onto it. Fellow trapped her there, arms either side of her torso, looking rather pleased with himself. “All debts must be collected, you understand.”

Filis’ tail slapped against his leg, brushing his fox tail. “Get off me you-”

“Handsome, debonair gentleman?” Filis glared at him. “No? How about…” He held his chin with his forefinger and thumb, tapping the underside as he thought of another set of compliments. “Gorgeous, charming devil?~”

Filis smirked. “More like a brazen, sly fox!”

While it was still playful, Fellow’s smile took on a genuine undertone. Fellow released his chin and lowered his hand down to hold her waist. “I can live with that~”

His kiss set every nerve of hers ablaze. Without a thought she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. The hand that was not holding himself upright slid up from her waist and to her cheek, caressing it gently. He soon deepened the kiss, gently tilting Filis’ head to the side to follow his lead. Her sleek tail coiled around his fluffier one, the fingers of one hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. They now purred together, making their lips tingle. Filis smiled into the liplock as she felt Fellow’s tail wag back and forth, pulling hers along with it, swishing to and fro.

Fellow just made up his mind to break the kiss and begin peppering Filis’ face with more when he heard a noise. Both he and Filis’ ears perked up at the sound of soft footsteps approaching from down the hall, a certain little bounce to them. Gidel. In a hurry, Filis and Fellow released each other, Fellow stepping aside to let Filis sit up from the table. They simultaneously straightened their clothes and fixed their hair, right before Gidel entered the room, a clear pep in his step. The little cat didn’t notice a thing. Yes, the two adults present were being so normal right now.

“Finished already?” Filis asked, thankful she was able to hide the breathlessness she felt. Gidel nodded, looking quite pleased with himself as he offered up the pine green workbook, clutched in his sleeve covered hands. No matter how many times they offered Gidel clothes that were just his size, he always preferred ones with oversized sleeves. One because he was so used to it, and second because he thought it made him look cute. Filis wondered if a certain fae influenced that decision long ago. That, or it was how much Gidel could get away with when it came to strangers for looking so adorable.

Filis opened the book and flipped to the pages she assigned him. She skimmed over the answers he’d written down - the first half in red colored crayon, the second in blue. Filis smiled conspiratorially down at him and asked, “You’re not trying to butter me up by writing in my favorite color again, are you?” The boy held up his arms in a shrug, smiling coyly. Filis hummed in thought as she looked back at the pages, pretending to scrutinize them a second time. The beastwoman then grabbed a red pen off the table, pulled off its cap with her teeth, and wrote a big ‘A+’ on both pages before flipping the workbook over for Gidel to see.

“Not a single error. Great job!”

It was like someone got a big bottle of glitter and poured it into Gidel’s eye sockets. He hopped up and down on the balls of his feet, clapping his hands together in glee. “Awesome job, smart guy!” Fellow congratulated his little brother with a ruffle of his naturally messy hair. “You’ll be making the big bucks in no time!” Fellow swiveled his head to the side to address Filis. “What was today’s subject?”

“Algebra I.”

Fellow looked like he got hit by a brick. Ah, yes, of course Gidel would succeed at something he absolutely slumped in. Well, better for him, he supposed. Though he was a little envious of the guy, Fellow’s frustrated grin was completely false. “Trying to one up me, huh?” This time, he picked Gidel up and held him sideways under his arm before proceeding to give him a noogie. “Don’t think this means you get all the spoils this weekend.”

By spoils, Fellow meant the trio’s weekly night on the town. Scratch that, they couldn’t do it every weekend, whether due to business or finances or some other thing, but they made a point to go out and do something fun at least once a month. More often than not, if Gidel did a remarkable job in his coursework in the days prior to the outing, he had more sway in deciding what they all did. It was only fair - and it didn’t just happen when Gidel excelled in his classes, either. The kid was spoiled downright rotten sometimes! Fellow wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I don’t know, another visit to that ice cream shoppe sounds awfully good.” Filis watched as Fellow sat the boy back on his feet, all whilst shooting her a teasing stare. “Before we even think about that though,” Filis reached into one of the brown grocery bags and pulled out a potato, “we need to cook tonight’s dinner.” Gidel nodded eagerly, right before he trotted over to the counter nearest the stove. He pulled over his stepping stool - while the boy had grown two inches since last year, he was still quite short - and stepped up to the cutting board Filis had abandoned. Filis mouthed to Fellow, “Please, help him.”

Fellow sent his lady love a small salute before stepping over to Gidel, helping hold the knife and carefully cut the rest of the carrot. Filis busied herself with emptying the three brown paper bags of their contents: potatoes, corn on the cob, broccoli (Fellow still refused to eat it, that child), a few packages of chicken, apples, bananas, blackberries and strawberries. Once the stew was boiling on the stove, Filis planned to prepare a fruit salad for dessert. As they all preferred, it would be dusted with sugar and drizzled with cream. Before Filis made a move to continue cooking, she watched Gidel and Fellow for a few more moments. They were very cute together, sometimes more like father and son than an older and younger brother.

Under her breath, Filis recited to herself the very familiar words: “Why Should I Worry?” Filis did not have her lucky coin on her; it was still safe within its tiny padded box on her dresser. The coin was not required to use her unique magic - the beam of light could come from anything, even the tip of her finger. That soft blue stream of light appeared before her. Unlike many times before, it stopped only a few feet away. It disappeared right into the backs of Fellow and Gidel. Filis really never needed a reminder - she was right where she needed to be.

Why should she worry?

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