#this was not worth sacrificing hours of sleep for yet here i am

[gammaraydeath]

"haha insanity is such a cakewalk 2 ez" <- said the idiot who hadn't yet tried for gold in armax

[madomkasak]

Lmao don't perceive my tag because half of it was already posted but I am fond of reckless thoughts, Daniel version too. Part 3 will be finished at some point once I gather the will to stitch the vignettes together (ask about them always!!) but I am also in my sad Daniel thoughts so here's the whole start of it.

It isn't the start though, not of reckless thoughts Max and Daniel, but it is the start of Max and Daniel. One day we'll learn what happened in that hotel room, before. We'll also learn what happens after.

As usual - retirement, Singapore, etc. Sad h/c. Maxiel newly established.

Daniel texts Max, in the end. Feels too hollowed out, feels like everything is pulling inwards and Daniel cannot find it in himself to unspool everything. There’s a lot of messages from him already, the last one from hours ago now.

He arrives at the hotel way past his bedtime. Thinks it isn't worth it falling asleep, when he has the flight home in a few hours. Can't let go yet. Tells Max it’s ok, he’ll still take First Class. Doesn't want to hide.

Thinks he is too fragile to be Air Max cargo. Thinks he won't be able to let Max go as easily, if they are together come morning. Come a few hours later than now, with how late Daniel stayed in the paddock.

He’s fine, Maxy. He isn't. But — he is, a little. He is, when he opens the thread. Sees Max offering Air Max once, twice. It’s no big deal, Daniel. Daniel wants to go up the few floors between them and go kiss him again, now that it is allowed.

It wasn't the first time they kissed, anyway. But it is the first time, when Daniel allows himself to know that there will be others. Even if, even if Daniel isn't coming back to the track, now.

Fuck. 

Daniel doesn't sleep. Settles in the settee, watches over the circuit, watches the formula 1 circus pack itself back up. Pack Daniel bits up never to unpack them ever again. There’s a lot he wants to say. Doesn't. Thinks about calling Max three times, calls his mother instead.

His voice breaks at the first syllable. He doesn't even say hello. Swallows, wishes she were here.

She sighs a choked sound that Daniel hears in his throat. But Daniel doesn't talk about the end of it all with her. Curls more tightly in the hotel armchair, talks about Max instead. Unspools the thread on the embroidered Hugo T-shirt. Undoes the flower there like he loves me, he loves me not. He loves me.

He always did, Daniel; his mother says. And Daniel knows. It is him, who was too slow. Too unsure about himself. He won't make the same mistake, won't let anyone tell him what to do. Except Max, maybe. Max is always a little bit bossy, a bit blunt. Daniel never minded it, doesn't mind it now.

It makes the little gestures Max did the last few days even sweeter. Daniel had sensed something, felt it's gnawing in his soul, let Max protect him from it with his little umbrella and aborted steps. Max isn't the one who bit into his gut and let it fall apart. He is the one holding Daniel together, stitches him back up.

Daniel's voice doesn't waver, when he talks about Max. Softens as his mother listens, as she hums when Daniel says he stopped being stupid. Let Max love him back.

“Do you think he will come to the farm?” She asks, and Daniel stays silent. Thinks, untwists the knots in his heart. Thinks that yes, Max would come, if Daniel asked. Daniel doesn't white know how to ask this - doesn't know yet how to make himself think Max won't be sacrificing anything, to come with him.

He isn't sure he is worth any sacrifices, when he’s been chewed and spit out like this. When he has been made everybody’s sacrificial lamb. Honey badger, even, whatever. Curses under his breath and at least his mum doesn't chastise him. Daniel still feels like he is five right now, wishes he didn't have the weight of the world here in this little settee. It might just crack open and swallow him whole too. A death of velvety corduroy that chafed his thigh two nights ago.

They talk until the sun's up. Until Daniel’s phone buzzed from texts about his flight back home. He finds he doesn't need to cry anymore. He plays the little radio message again and again.

It aches like a lost limb, but Daniel watches the onboard Blake sends him. It’s his last one but god – Daniel likes it. Thinks he did something with it, at least. Doesn't linger on how his last lap should have been received. Thank you, Daniel. Thank you.

Messages Max. Confirms when he will land in Perth. It isn't as long a flight as he was flying back to Faenza. Had planned to stay home during the break before Austin and now —

He types more. Undoes it. Types again. Come to the farm, yeah? Come see me, when you can? I’ll come to Austin for you. I’ll watch the race and cheer you on. Daniel switches, removes himself more and more from the paddock and Max’s racing, builds the wall up. Come to the farm, Max. Come to me.

Erases them all. Breathes. Love you, Max. Hits send. Max doesn't reply, must be asleep. Has his own plane to catch. It’s okay, Daniel needs a bit of silence. Needs to go home. Needs to go, without Max, so his heart feels less tender, less scared by how it fights between sadness and the elation he feels, thinking of Max.

He isn't alone for too long anyway.

Gets twenty Max messages by the time he lands. Max is the first one he calls. It hurts a bit less already.

His mother is here at the airport. Picks him up like Daniel is ten and not thirty-something. Daniel feels like a child, an enormous thing that feels too big for his body risking swallowing him. 

Daniel cries, into the crook of her neck. Wishes she could lift him up one more time, and Daniel would have wrapped himself around her. Breathes in. 

He's the one who sleeps in the car, curled against familiar worn leather, his mother's playlist soft through the vehicle. The belt digs into his neck. He feels every bump and feels carsick from it, the smell of fuel bringing every tear back up again. She doesn't say anything. Turns up the volume on a song they both know by heart, skips the ones she knows Daniel dislikes more.

He doesn't make fun of her, when she turns down the volume the closer they are to home — like she doesn't know the way with her eyes closed. His body knew too, waking up despite the grogginess and heaviness and the dozens of notifications buzzing in his hoodie.

Say hello to Max, she says. And Daniel swipes his phone to ping him too, drums fingers against the little icon of Max's face - a silly picture they took years ago. Not even the locket picture of Max from the hotel room Daniel sees behind closed eyes still. He can't show his mother half naked Max yet. Yet.

"Yeah." He says. Chokes. He catches a half smile, knowing, at the corner of his eyes. Daniel sweats a bit. Not from the balmy spring heat. From the Max thoughts. The Max-mum thoughts of being known. Thinks she won't be surprised, when Daniel tells them in a few days.

But he needs home first, as much as he needs Max here with him. That will happen after.

Daniel swipes off the notification for the Monaco flight. Doesn't glance at the receipt attached. Undoes his seatbelt with a shaky hand. Even lets his mother take his bag from the boot, with a kiss to his cheek.

He cries against the car.

[cakesbochord]

My thoughts on Once Upon a Broken Heart and The Ballad of Never After

Note: This is basically a rant. Spoilers ahead!

(haven’t read the third on yet btw!)

I am loving these series. I love jacks- in the first book he was hilarious and super mysterious. and evangeline! i love eva- she’s also really pretty lol.

i can tell that in the first book that they were probably already going to end up together in the end, but there was a bunch of twists and stuff that i just really enjoyed !

now. the ballad of never after.

wowee. i sacrificed many hours of sleep to finish this book and it was WORTH IT. LIKE WOW. AND NO.

Like , the scenes with evajacks in the Hollow were just so fun!!!! where jacks cleans up eva’s wounds 😭 but it was just such a roller coaster. like with all the dreams, then them finding the mirth stone.

OH AND SPEAKING ABOUT THE STONES AND STUFF: like a bit unrelated, but LaLa’s engagement party!!!!! we got to see a jealous jacks!!!! and luc 😭 OMG LUC. HIM. Honestly i didn’t know how to feel about him when he low key betrayed evangeline but he’s so funny and i’m so here for it lmaoaoao. no but JACKS BEING JEALOUS. I just wish i could see some more genuine scenes where he’s more honest with his feelings with her wITHOUT THE ENCHANMENT OF A STONE 😭. anyway

long story short.

WHAT THE HELL APOLLO.

from the start, i obviously wanted evajacks, and i was hoping for a scene where evangeline to like, tell apollo she likes jacks, but anyway… SERIOUSLY. WHY. WKKFKSKBDJFJDJFJFNDJFNGNEKKQKSKFJFJDNSD.

AND THATS NOT ALL. REMEMBER EVANGELINE WROTE A LETTER TO HERSELF WARNING HER ABOUT JACKS???? WHEN SHE FINDS THAT LETTER, sHE’s GOING TO BE SO CONFLICTEDDD. What if she never loved jacks again 😭 i swear stephanie garber pls donttttt.

oh and before that. the scene where chaos (castor!!!?) bites evangeline and jacks arrived and just screams and holds her there????? and then he demands the queen to heal her??? and like he has the line of how nothing is of equal value to him?!!!? RHAT MEANS SO MANY THINFS.

BECAUZE… like yk how he originally wanted the stones to go back and fix his true love with that princess???? NO HE DIDNT. HE CHOSE EVANGELINE. BOY YOU TELLING ME YOU TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT HER WHEN YOU SAVFIFICD yOUR CHANCE TO FIND THIS OTHER GIRL.

I’m sorry. this… this series is so GOOD.

aosxnsndnmxkakxfncnndsmd

[yourlocalartsonist]

ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter Four

A/N: Hello I have returned with yet another chapter for y'all to feed on! I am lowkey so happy the fanfic's going on for so long cuz I have a history of abandoning projects after like the third chapter, so clearly tis a sign I might actually keep this fic long running for years and years to come :D I know I have a lot of ideas for it so I'm def taking a few years on this one but oh well I'm having fun. Hope you guys like this one, tidepod duo is one of my favs and I got to implement some of my own lore bits here and there and foreshadow certain things... Also can y'all believe the Hidden City Zoo was mentioned in one of the episodes but we never got to actually see it like fuck u Nickelodeon, now I'm forced to write a self-indulgent fanfic so my brain can finally rest >:( But yee tell me your fav parts if y'all feel like it <3

Also! Credit to: @sweaterrat for being my beloved beta reader, and my irl friend "The Leo Hater Reading a Leo Fanfic" for inspiring some quotes~

*Phuphu means "paternal aunt" in Bangla

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter One

Disclaimer: Chapter involves themes of abusive family, mention of death, violence, and curse words. If you're sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe!

“Remember we’ll be back by nine, this place better be spotless or you’re staying up and making sure it is!”

“I know Phuphu*, I’ve got it. You and Meeta just enjoy your day.”

My aunt called for her daughter who was still at the mirror adjusting how she looked, smoothening out her patterned gold dress and putting any flyaway strands back in place. They were both going to a birthday party for one of my aunt’s friend’s sister’s brother-in-law’s son and, as usual, I wasn’t invited. Instead, I got tasked with keeping the apartment in check while they’re gone in case there’s an explosion or something. They never give me a better reason. 

“Hurry up child, we’re going to be late!”

“Mommy you’re the one who always says beauty takes time.” 

Meeta took one last look in the mirror and joined her mom at the door.

“Well, don’t you look stunning!”

“Um, of course I do? Have I ever not looked perfect?” There it is, my ever so humble cousin. I mean don’t get me wrong I admire her confidence, just crosses a line when she starts putting others down for not looking as good as her. And by others I mostly mean me.

But regardless, it was true. Meeta did look stunning all day everyday. She’s only fifteen but still considered the beauty of our family, especially to our relatives outside America. Tall, dark eyes, milky skin. Shiny black hair done up in a tight bun. Meeta takes great care to always look picture perfect.

I waved goodbye as they left for the party. It did feel a little bad, never getting to tag along and join them anywhere. But then again, eight years of technically being in debt to my aunt didn’t exactly leave any respect for me so parties are the least of my concerns. She acts as if not yelling at me for one minute would end with tragedy just because she’s letting me stay here for free. My only form of compensation: taking care of the house. Cleaning, shopping, running errands, all that jazz. It’s either that or a job so I chose household chores, it’s got more perks.

Like getting to choose my own schedule! As always, I was told ahead of time that they’d be out today so while my aunt and Meeta were sleeping last night, I got the majority of the cleaning done (with the exception of their rooms, of course). I asked Jaiden if we could hang out today and miraculously they agreed so I had to make sure today's cleaning would take no more than an hour, even if that sacrificed a little bit of sleep yesterday. All I’ve gotta do now is just some light sweeping. Totally worth it in my opinion.

Soon after I was done, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and saw it was a call from Jaiden. Fumbling with the buttons I eventually managed to answer.

“Jaiden? Are you out already? Give me like ten minutes I’ll-”

“I can’t make it.”

Wait, what? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I can’t make it today, something came up. I just wanted to quickly call you and let you know.”

Beep!

They hung up.

My heart sank thinking about their words. Something came up? I’ve been so excited to hang out with Jaiden all day and now something came up? We already haven’t spent much time together lately. They don’t talk as much at school and stopped responding to my texts. I got worried I did something wrong but every time I’d gain the courage to ask they’d just say they were low on energy and I’d accept that answer because what else could I do? After all of this time of practically begging them, I finally got them to agree on making plans in hopes we could talk and now today of all days something just happened to come up? 

I sighed and quickly returned to rationality. It must be a last minute situation, I mean they barely even called for a minute. Probably something important or maybe a parent randomly said no. Jaiden did say their parents are a bit flip-floppy. Either way, no point in getting mad at Jaiden, it’s not in their control. I begrudgingly shoved my phone back in my pocket and paced around the house trying to entertain myself. I’ve already cleaned every nook and cranny I could bullshit into justifying as a mess so that’s not an option. I don’t really have any inspiration to work on my art or writing either. 

I went into my room and flopped on the bed. 

Ugh, this sucks! It’s only three pm, I still have so many hours to kill. Maybe I should just take a nap. 

Before I could try to doze off to dreamland, a sound forced my eyes back open.

A knock? At my window?

But when I stuck my head outside no one was there. So either the wind was being a little bitch or I’m so depressed I’m hallucinating. I groaned and was about to go back to bed but, the very second I turned my back, two voices shouted in unison before I got tackled to the ground. 

“Surprise attack!”

My poor back stung against the hard floor as the two mutant idiots curled around me. 

“Leo, Mikey! I missed you guys! But, um, I do still need to breathe.” 

We sat up, still on the floor and my soul eventually returned to my body. 

Mikey flashed a vibrant grin “So, whatcha doing? Any plans or are you free today!? Please say you’re free!”

“Oh, I am now, I guess. I was supposed to hang out with a friend but they canceled last minute so my day just about cleared up.”

“Aww sorry to hear that Salena.” And he’s back to hugging. I’d be more annoyed if Mikey didn’t give such great hugs, he’s as soft as a sponge. “But, on the bright side, that means you can come hang out with us now! Leo and I were planning on going to a zoo and-”

“A ZOO!?” 

Am I dreaming because holy daze it feels like I am! I could barely contain my giddy giggles the entire walk over. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a zoo literally my entire life! Getting up close and personal with all the amazing different animals! I mean don’t get me wrong, books are great but it’d be so different to see one in person! I feel like I’d get carried away and go inside the enclosure, though, but that’s fine! Just the usual intrusive thoughts and stuff!” 

“Hey Salena, love the enthusiasm and it’s really great to see you so happy but, maybe you should save your energy for when we actually get there?”

“Sorry! I’m just so excited!”

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d enjoy this.” He smiled and turned back to Mikey. “Hey Angelo, we there yet?”

“Yepperoni! Just give it a sec and let the Master of Mystic Arts do his thing.” Mystic arts?

He held out his hands and they started glowing. Contrasting with the neon blue I’m used to seeing, a portal opened up in sunset colors. 

“Guys, am I missing something? Why are we opening a portal?” I glanced over at Leo for some answers only to be met by his stupid amused smirk.

“So, we may have hidden a tiny little detail about this zoo trip.”

“Damn, you don’t say?” 

Mikey, the only thing between me and the glowing mystery hole, stepped off to the side. “We weren’t just gonna go to any regular zoo. We’re going to the Hidden City Zoo!”

Hidden City? Oh wait, that’s the place Raph talked about, the reason why there were so many Yōkai near my house! This is probably one of the gateways to it? I leaned in a bit closer, a little more cautious than usual. It sounded thrilling to explore the Hidden City but a zoo? What kind of animals could a mutant zoo have? 

“Um, we’re not gonna get immediately mauled death by some crazy rabid mutant lion or something, right?”

“Dunno. Only one way to find out!”

“What.”

The blue bastard pushed me through without hesitation as my poor knees made contact with the hard, rocky surface on the other side. I thought of letting my violent desires get the better of me for a minute. Until... 

The new world in front of me left me starstruck.

The sky painted in various hues of pink and gold, an enormous entrance built on seafoam-colored stone displaying the words Hidden City Zoo. Peeking inside it only got better, the place was littered with wild and wacky creatures I’ve never even dreamed could exist! And in the distance, I think I can make out a rollercoaster?

It seems like Mikey’s in just as much awe as I am “Omigosh look at how big it is! And it has an amusement park nearby? This place is even cooler than I thought!”

“Dudes, what’d I tell you, this was totally a great idea! Ugh, I should’ve gone here last time instead of that stupid spa.”

“Why didn’t you just go after the spa?”

“Oh cause we all got thrown in jail. A dumb bird and an evil wig framed me for theft so that kinda took up the whole day.”

“But Dad and I bailed them out and saved the day! Who’s the best turtle now Leon~” 

A giggle escaped my lips “The fact that I’m not even surprised. Now c’mon, enough blabbering, we gotta go explore!” 

A mutant zoo is somehow exactly what I expected it to be but also completely different at the same time. Most of these guys look like regular animals, just bigger and louder. But a few others actually reminded me of more traditional Yōkai I saw in a book about Japanese folklore. I remember Mom used to hate how interested I was in it, which was pretty strange since she herself was Japanese. That was the only thing I ever knew of her heritage. She kept trying to tell me Yōkai knowledge was useless and I’d have way more fun learning about real animals instead. Unfortunately for her, my curiosity was not one to be quenched so I simply ended up learning about both. 

I looked at one of the bear Yōkai, they’re called onikuma I think. We made eye contact and either I need to get my vision checked or it just smiled at me. Weren’t these supposed to be wild animals? Come to think of it actually, the more Yōkai-looking creatures resembled the mutants outside the zoo enclosures more than the ones inside. You know, the guys walking around on two feet wearing clothes and taking pictures on their phones the same way we were and are very obviously not wild animals. 

“Whatcha writing, Salena?” the tangerine looked over my shoulder while I was typing on my notes app.

“Oh, just trying to learn a bit more about these guys. I don’t know why but something just feels-” 

Before I could finish my sentence, my stomach chose violence sending a sharp pain through my body as it rumbled louder than a whale call. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to eat today.”

“You do that too?”

Mikey let out a dramatically loud gasp “What is wrong with y’all? How can anyone forget to eat? We’re getting food right now.”

“Chillax Mikey, I’ll be fine! We can wait a little-”

“Don’t make me go Doctor Delicate Touch on you.”

“N-Nevermind.”

We were unwillingly dragged by the terrifying midget to a food booth nearby. I mean, it’s not too bad honestly, the food in the Hidden City is way better than in New York. We got a super delicious burger packed with juicy meat, creamy cheese, tomatoes that actually taste like something, and… worm fries. I avoided that last delicacy but Leo seemed to enjoy it. Mikey on the other hand wrote down every tiny detail while rambling to himself the whole time. 

“Don’t mind him, Mikey loves to cook. Sometimes he tries remaking recipes of any food we liked outside.”

“Ahem, I don’t just recreate them, I improve them!”  

I looked at the giant burger in my hands amazed at Mikey’s confidence. “You want to improve this? This is literally the best burger I’ve ever had in my life! How could you top this?”

“Yeah, Miguel, you sure you’re good enough for this one?” He glared as Leo playfully stuck out his tongue. 

“You’ll just have to wait and be impressed! But on another note, how’re you doing Salena? Enjoying the day so far?”

“Enjoying doesn’t even begin to describe it! Everything is so cool here! I’ve always wanted to go to a zoo like this. I bugged my parents about it a lot when I was younger but we never had enough money for the tickets and stuff. They promised they’d take me one day but…” They died before they could. 

I never realized how I completely forgot about that. Life got so busy that getting upset over zoos seemed too silly to do anymore.

I snapped back to reality feeling the boys’ eyes on me.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the mood-”

They hugged me. 

“It’s a good thing we took you here then!”

“Yeah, consider it a thank you gift for Mr. and Mrs. Moni.”

This feels… warm. And familiar? It’s a hug. I’ve hugged plenty of people. But those hugs felt different. I feel so small right now and that’s strangely a good thing. Everything is warm and cozy and a little dreamy. 

I think the last time a hug felt like this was when my parents were still here.

The rest of the day went by delightfully. We took a stupid amount of pictures - mostly because Leo wanted to boast to Raph and Donnie later - and Mikey even dragged us on to a few of the rides at the amusement park. The mood felt a little softer than before. I’m not entirely used to it but I honestly don’t mind.

But as usual, the pleasantly chill vibe can never last for too long. A loud crash grabbed our attention towards one of the exhibits where a bunch of employees were scrambling around with cages in their arms. Mikey managed to stop one of them mid-panic to ask what’s going on.

“Something broke the glass and now they all escaped!”

I caught Leo inspecting the broken glass. Following his eyes, they landed on what seemed to be a giant crab claw. He quickly noticed the two culprits in the distance frolicking around in acrobat uniforms and groaned. “Ugh, I think I know who that something was.”

“Who are those guys?”

“The Sando brothers. We just can’t enjoy a single day of peace can we?” Mikey grit his teeth with a murderous glint in his eyes. Like I said, soft as a sponge. Just when he’s mad, he’s as soft as a sponge left out too long without water.

The employee was focused more on the escaped critters and rushed off before we could ask anything else. “They’ll wreck everything! We need to catch them before they wreck everything!”

“Hey wait! What animal got loose!?”

I squinted at the label trying to read the small text, immediately filled with dread now understanding everyone’s panic. One of the raccoon-sized demons hissed to my right, preparing to pounce.

“Uh, guys? This was a shrew enclosure!”

“A what enclosure?”

“Duck!” 

“Wha- GAH!” It would seem I managed to avoid it at the expense of traumatizing the blueberry. “GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!”

Mikey kicked the shrew off revealing poor Leo’s scratched up and terrified face. “Why are they so violent!?”

“They’re shrews, that’s their job! But they’re usually no bigger than a human palm, I can’t believe ooze could supersize them that much.” I quickly wrote down the new info on my phone as Mikey helped Leo up.

“Leo, what’s the plan?”

He looked at the crabs while dusting himself off “We should probably take care of the circus clowns before they destroy anything else. What do ya say, Angelo? Think you can keep up with professional acrobats?”

“You know I can! Cowabunga!”

“Wait! What do I do?” 

“Oh, Mikey and I can take care of this. You don’t wanna just lay low till we’re back?”

“And let you two hog all the fun? I thought you knew me better than that.”

He softly chuckled “Right, adrenaline junkie, how could I forget?” He looked at the several mutant shrews raging havoc all over the place “Well, we could use someone to help catch the… shrews right? You seem to know a bunch about them. Maybe you could help make sure they don’t destroy the whole place.”

My eyes lit up “You got it chief!” 

“If you need any help, holler!” 

I went over to the employees. Some of them were still trying to capture the tiny devils while a few others were getting a mystic wall ready where the glass broke, I’m assuming to temporarily keep them in. I’ll need a plan to get all the shrews in there. Mindlessly chasing around already proved to be a fail. 

I know I definitely read about this before. Shrews are carnivorous, they like eating things like snails and slugs but those were the regular-sized shrews. What could I feed these giants?

Think, think, think. There’s gotta be something around here I can bait them with…

“Wait! The burgers! Of course!”

I bolted inside a kitchen and scanned around for any giant clumps of meat.

“Hey, kid! Who are you, what are you even doing here?” 

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry. Shrew problems.” 

“What?”

I looked past the confused guy and saw what I was looking for. Shoving down my guilt, I grabbed a bunch of bacon patties and ran out the kitchen. 

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, it’s a necessary sacrifice!”

Back outside, I found a shrew and waved one of the patties, catching its attention. 

“Over here, buddy!” Usually, thin bacon strips would be enough to lure them but I figured giant meat circles were more appropriate for these guys.

Once I got it close enough to the enclosure, I threw the patty in letting the shrew jump after it, getting trapped behind the transparent magic wall. One by one, all the menace mice were eventually recaptured. Not gonna lie, I’m still a little surprised it actually worked. 

“Salena, look out!” 

I dodged to Mikey’s instruction just in time for another giant crab claw to fly bullet-speed past me getting absorbed into the wall. It would seem mystic glass can’t really be broken, good thing too since the shrews escaping again would’ve broken my will to live alongside it. 

Unfortunately, I spent too long collecting myself and got snatched up by the back of my shirt, now facing the presumed Sando brothers.

“Look Carl, it’s the gross little human that keeps ruining our plan!” 

“Ha! Look at it swing!”

“Put me down you bald red freak!”

He suddenly looked at me in pain as if my dream of breaking his dumb claws open had actually come true “B-bald?..”

“Did you just call my brother bald!?”

“I can’t believe that’s the part you’re focused on.”

“I… I used to be so beautiful with my luscious long locks before I got turned into this! You still got to keep your hair, why was life so cruel to me!?” The red nuisance began pouring a waterfall of tears.

“See what you did!? Now you made him cry! Hey, it’s alright Ben, that human doesn’t know beauty when they see it.” Are you serious.

“You’re right! We should do something awful to it! Something that’ll make them regret calling me bald!”

“Yeah like!.. Like…”

“Ooh, I know! We should eat it!” 

“DUDE! Why is that the first thing you think of!?”

A familiar taunting voice joined in the conversation “Lame! You guys are so awful at plans, no wonder you got outsmarted by a regular ol’ human!” I’d be offended if I wasn’t preoccupied with my confusion. 

“Excuse me!? Did you just call my brother lame!?”

“Why does the universe hate me today!?”

“I’d like to see you idiots do any better!”

“Oh-ho we could do so much better, right Mikey?”

“What are you guys-”

“Duh! I mean there are rollercoasters everywhere and they didn’t even realize higher ground would speed things up by a trillion.”

HUH!? “No no no no no no! We do not need to go higher ground!”

“Hey come to think of it, Mike, dropping someone from a high place is a pretty heinous thing to do, too. Way worse than eating them.”

“OH YOU TWO ARE SO DEAD IF I’M NOT!”

“Ben, they actually have a point.”

“Y-yeah they kinda do… Welp doesn’t matter if we take credit for it, anyway! See ya later, jerks!”

They jumped onto the coaster as I helplessly awaited my fate, praying the dumbass turtles had some sort of plan and didn’t just use me as live bait for the crab monsters. 

“Look down at your death tiny pest! I bet it’d take you days just to finally hit the ground!”

“Woah, you really think we’re that high up, Ben?”

“Yeah! Or actually, no not really, I think it’ll only take like a minute or something.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound as cool. Should we go higher ground-”

“UGH! Why does it matter, I’m dead either way you buffoons!”

“Oh yeah, good point.” He let go of me and off I was screaming as I fall to my doom.

But just above me, a pair of chains wrapped around the rollercoaster and snapped it like a stick, sending idiot crab men falling down with me. Still in shock, I didn’t notice the blue katana fly by, teleporting a smirking turtle just in time to catch me. 

“Leo?”

“Missed me?~” He drew his blade mid-air and opened a portal landing us to safety. 

“You didn’t think we actually ditched you, did you?”

“Aha, I was starting to…”

I looked past his shoulder towards the sound of Mikey’s hyper yelps.

“It’s mystic time, baby!” I gawked as the orange portal, just like the one from earlier today, opened up swallowing the terrified acrobats and sending them to who knows where. 

“Mikey can open portals, too!?”

“Don’t tell me you thought there was a gateway to the Hidden City directly outside the zoo.”

“Actually, yeah I kinda did.”

Mikey walked over pressing against the glass wall between us. Wait, glass? Where even are we?

“Leo, Salena! Are you guys okay?”

“Don’t worry, little brother, we’re perfectly fine. We just gotta get out here.”

“Uh…L-Leo!” He followed my frightened gaze to the giant mutant bullfrogs behind us. 

“So that’s what the glass was for.”

“RUN!”

I grabbed his hand and started sprinting away from the green enemy, making sure to dodge the enormous pink tongue currently hunting us.

“You know, for someone who supposedly failed gym, you’re pretty light on your feet.”

I furrowed my brows, more towards his accusation than his inappropriately relaxed smirk “I did fail gym! You’re just lucky dodgeball’s the only sport I’m good at.”

We hid behind a nearby rock, gasping and trying to catch our breaths.

“Man, of all the places you could’ve picked, why’d you portal us here?”

“Hey, it’s not like I meant to! My portals mess up when I panic.”

“You were panicking?”

He looked just as surprised as I did “Ah-”

“Guys! Are you dead?!” his comms let out Mikey’s panicked voice.

“We’re okay, Mikey. Just resting for a bit.”

“Oh good. Cause uh, THE COPS ARE HERE! WE’VE GOTTA MOVE!”

“The cops? Eugh boy.”

“Wait why is that a bad thing? Does the Hidden City not have Good Samaritan laws or something?”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck “So uh, remember the whole ‘us getting thrown into jail’ thing? Yeah, we may or may not still be wanted criminals for that whole shebang.”

“You said you got bailed out!”

“I never said legally!”

“Oh my god.”

He peeked from behind the rock, making eye contact with Mikey still waiting for us outside the enclosure.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea but we’ve gotta make a run for it. You ready to leave the zoo?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough mutant mayhem for one day.”

We raced past the mutant frog. Leo swung his sword one last time, creating a portal, and shoved it so it reached both sides of the glass barrier. The three of us dove in as it closed behind, falling back to a soft carpeted floor. 

I rubbed my head and looked around “My room… M-My room! Omigosh we made it guys, we’re alive!” 

Mikey and Leo were a little less celebratory than I thought they’d be. 

“Sorry for dragging you into a fight, Salena. Again. Man, that’s the second time that’s happened. Which, I guess it isn’t a lot, but still weird it happened twice.”

“Ugh, this was supposed to be a fun, relaxing trip to the zoo. I can’t believe those stupid crab jerks showed up and ruined it.”

I had no idea they’d be so dejected over this. 

“Who said anything about ruined?” They looked at me puzzled by my unfazed smile.

“Did you hit your head or something? We should check for injuries. Leo-”

“No, guys, I’m fine! Really!”

“You almost died twice today and you think that wouldn’t ruin anything?”

“Okay, yeah, that would’ve been inconvenient if I did, but I didn’t! I mean, come on! Think about literally everything else that happened! My first ever zoo and we just so happened to save it from disaster that exact same day? Guys, this was amazing!” I let myself breathe a bit, feeling the adrenaline calm down. “Life’s been so much better ever since I met you.”

Leo stared at me silently while Mikey caved into his emotions. “That’s it, I can’t take it anymore! Group hug!” 

The teary tangerine pulled us in. For a while, we all stayed like that, cuddled on the floor. Warm, cozy, and comfortable. As weirdly thrilling as the danger was, I think the hugs were still my favorite part about today. 

I would’ve loved to just enjoy it a bit longer but my phone alarm rang, the one I always set to be an hour before my oh so beloved family returned.

“You better go. I don’t think my aunt would be very happy with two random turtles in my room.”

After our goodbyes, I happily jumped into bed ready for some quiet downtime. I guess even though I didn’t get to hang out with the person I initially planned to, today might have turned out better this way. I opened up Instagram and started scrolling and catching up on everything else in the world. A YouTuber posted a new video, a couple and their cat went on vacation, an artist opened up commissions. All in all, seemed to be a pleasant day for everyone else, too. 

My thumb paused. A new post from Zane. They were pictures from a party he went to today, seemed like he had fun.

I got to the last picture on his post. My eyes went wide, staying glued to the person next to him. Heavy eyes. Dark hair straightened into a ponytail.

I felt my stomach doing flips realizing who it was. 

“Jaiden?”

Next Chapter

[ripperplague]

Hey! What ifff... RO is late from whatever they were doing and when they get gome they find barely awake MC who was waiting for them?

So cute.

1. Cyrus

He'd stare at you in surprise.

"What are you still doing up?"

You grumble, "Waiting for his excellency, the Duke of Trillain."

An equally exhausted smile blooms on his face.

"And here I thought you'd be too tired to use that blade in your mouth."

You rise and sway slightly.

"Don't challenge me. I have half a mind to slap that grin off your face."

He laughs and the sound makes you smile despite your sour mood. Taking off his shoes, he puts an arm around you.

"Oh please. You couldn't swat a mosquito in this state."

You grudgingly admit that he's right but giving in now would be a fatal blow to your pride. So you push your weight on him going limp in his arms.

"I can and I will. Go and bring me one."

His chuckle resounds through you, "What? I can't do that."

You snort even as he steers you to the bedroom, practically carrying you.

"Yes you can. You're the Duke! Just summon one. It can't reject a summons."

His shoulders shake with stifled laughter.

"You're such a baby."

You roll over to him once he lays you down.

"Says the man with the IQ of a fourteen year old."

He kisses your forehead and wraps an arm around you.

"Good night name."

"..."

2. Blade

He'd blink at the light and tilt his head with an amused expression.

"How long were you planning to sit like that?"

You stretch and wince at the kink in your neck.

"Till the time you returned."

He takes your face in his hands, "You’re amazing."

You yawn and nuzzle his neck, “And you’re slow.”

His body is warm and you smile faintly when he rolls his eyes before lifting you in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom bridal style.

3. Raz 

She smiles and drops into your lap.

“I love you.”

You raise a brow, “You’d better. I sacrificed four hours of good sleep for you.”

She leans forward to kiss you.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

You exhale, “I am far too tired for that now.”

The woman rolls her eyes and rummages through her bag, “Head out of the gutter. I knew you’d stay up so I got you this.”

She holds out a science journal and your eyes narrow.

“Is that...”

“The bridged version you wanted.”

You grin and snatch the book from her hands.

“This is better than....”

“Do not finish that sentence if you hope to see me naked ever again.”

You peck her lips before rising and draping an arm around her.

“Alright. We can do it with our clothes on.”

She punches your shoulder as you snicker.

4. Gauge

They hang their coat and concern twists their gorgeous features.

“Are you okay?”

You yawn and rise, “Fine. Just waiting for you to get home.”

Gauge smiles and approaches you for a hug.

“I knew you were a softie underneath all that grumpiness.”

You sneer half heartedly.

“Never again.”

They chuckle and nudge you towards the bedroom.

“Fine then go to sleep because I have to head out again.”

You groan on the verge of a breakdown.

“Oh gods...”

Then you see the slight twitch in their expression and snarl before yanking them by the sleeve.

“And they say you’re the good one in this equation.”

“You love me.”

“...True.”

5. Skylar

Her shoulders droop with exhaustion and her delighted smile makes this so worth it. 

She simply walks up to you and slams her head into your chest.

“Today was hell. I missed you so much.”

You tug at the band holding her hair, letting the blonde tresses tumble to her shoulders. 

“Why did it take so long?’’

She winks.

“Carry me and I’ll tell you.”

“Woman I am on the verge of collapsing.”

“Awww pleeeaasee. Even I am tired. We could fall together!”

Unfortunately you are not yet immune to her pout so you give in.

“....You owe me.”

“Yay!”

Sometimes you wonder if she runs on fuel cells. She throws her arms around your neck as you carry her piggy back style to the bedroom.

6. Brin

They wince when they see you half asleep on the table.

“Oh Darling you shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”

They sigh and tug at your hand.

“Come let’s get to bed.”

You exhale and cook up a lie to help with their guilt, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Brin merely raises a brow giving you a stern look.

“Your eyes are puffy and you’re swaying.”

They brush your cheek with their soft hands.

“You need to take care of yourself. Now every time I stay out I’ll worry that you’re sitting up waiting for me.”

You’re so tired you can’t feel your face to form an expression. So you shrug casually.

“I am not a puppy. I just couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about something important.”

Brin’s loving smile makes your soul lighter and they close the distance between you. 

“Liar.”

7. Atlas

They mask their surprise behind that characteristic smirk.

“Well...well..well. Look who’s awake. Fantasizing about me again?”

You snort and stretch, “Hah. You wish.”

The smile drops off their face and when they tug you closer you can see the concern reflected in those silver eyes.

“Don’t strain yourself.”

You sigh and let them kiss you before speaking.

“Relax. I am fine.”

“But you’ll have one hell of a headache in the morning.”

“So?”

“Don’t stay up late.”

“Then don’t leave me.”

You blink at the words that exited your mouth and pray that Atlas is too exhausted to have heard them right. That sensual grin proves otherwise.

“If we both weren’t swaying with exhaustion I’d suggest a game of hostage.”

You roll your eyes to conceal the creeping blush as they wrap an arm around you.

“Kill me now.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol 

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian 

--

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be. 

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight. 

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin. 

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake. 

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me? 

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. “I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power. 

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?” 

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.” 

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?” 

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--” 

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?” 

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.” 

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.  

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.” 

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest. 

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.” 

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.” 

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.” 

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”  

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.” 

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?” 

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.” 

“And someone is responsible.” 

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--” 

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.” 

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--” 

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.” 

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?” 

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

 He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. 

“Saints.” 

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.” 

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses. 

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski. 

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin. 

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat. 

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan. 

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain. 

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.” 

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it. 

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--” 

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument. 

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous. 

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.” 

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced. 

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

--

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag  

@we-love-our-bandz 

[aminiatureworld]

Deserving

Characters: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,651

Warnings: None

Premise: Even those who don’t regret their choices can doubt their worth.

In which Childe feels undeserving.

Author’s Note: Since I’m no longer dying you get a proper length fic. I realized halfway through I didn’t write anything for Diluc’s birthday, but blatant Childe favoritism comes first!

He’d never expected to be in a relationship, expected to spend his entire life serving the Tsaritsa and her purposes, dying for the salvation of Snezhnaya. He had no need for romance, no need for any of those connections that humans did. He’d given that all up the day he’d stepped into the Abyss, and for a long time he’d managed to make it seem like it didn’t matter to him, even to himself. And then he’d met you.

You were the greatest source of Childe’s happiness, offering him a sort of sanctuary, without any attempt to do so. You didn’t treat him as a lesser being, as the automaton he’d turned into; nor would you accept his superiority, determined to be his equal in every way. It was refreshing, to have a relationship unfettered by bureaucracy or by prejudice. But it was also frightening, and the small voice inside Childe that whispered he was no more than a monster was quick to remind him how undeserving he was of your love.

Not that Childe didn’t think that already, that he didn’t feel that emptiness inside of him where had once stood his hope, his innocence, the piece of his humanity that could still believe in a good ending. Sometimes it seemed even his empathy had been sacrificed, and now he had little left of himself. All these feelings had only grown, given encouragement the more time he spent with you, the more time he realized how much was truly missing from himself. And though he tried to ignore these feelings, knowing they weren’t your burden to bear, knowing that he could never change what had happened, he still knew they were there.

 “Are you okay?”

You tugged at the end of Childe’s sleeve, eyes filled with concern. It was a lovely day, right between the beginning of spring and the end of winter. It was colder than it had been the past few days, and you’d taken the lowered temperature as an opportunity to steal Childe’s scarf. The tails flapped about around you, and for a moment Childe’s eyes followed the movement as he attempted to come up with something to say.

“I’m perfectly fine my dear. Simply a little tired.”

“A long day at work?”

“A long week. The servants of the Tsaritsa never sleep, as you know firsthand.” Childe smirked, ruffling your hair. The movement seemed to distract you, and as you batted at his hands, grumbling as usual about his work, the Harbinger wondered if it wasn’t dishonest of him to lie about such a thing.

 “I’m sorry I have to go again.” Childe smiled apologetically, checking his belt to make sure his wax and extra bow strings were there.

“It’s alright.” You smiled, leaning over to give Childe a quick peck on the cheek.

Childe smiled back, before leaning down to kiss you properly. He wondered if you could feel all the love he held towards you, if his lips could convey his regret not just in words. He wondered if one day these fleeting kisses would be enough to sate the distance between the two of you each time he left.

“I’ll write to you as soon as I find a mailbox.” He said, withdrawing slightly, hand still grazing your hip.

“I’ll try to reply.”

“Try?”

“No promises.” You teased.

“The audacity! Honestly, how do I ever put up with you?”

“Because you love me?”

“Yes.” Childe pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you.”

If only my love were enough to keep us united, he added in his mind, too apprehensive to let those words be released into the air.

 My dear,

How very boring things are without you. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m not working in a glorified daycare, my subordinates more uncontrollable with every passing day. One must wonder if it’s even worth it to whip them into shape, for they make poor sparring partners. If you were here you’d knock every single one of them on the ground, before they could even wonder what an adventurer was doing in a Fatui camp. Maybe I’ll invite you next time, we’ll make it happen.

Childe couldn’t express truly the solace he found in writing to you. It was easier to write sometimes than talk, and it was easier to send his words out to you than rely on the memories of what had already happened. More than that it was the one thing that reminded him of his outside existence, of his world beyond the camp grounds and the men and women who dragged their feet around him, no wish to fight in them, only the wish to get a few hours more sleep. It was a depressing existence, if Childe were honest with himself. It’d become even more depressing, now that he missed you.

He set down his pen for a moment, sighing at the ink which was now frozen in its jar. Where were you now? Were you happy? Did you miss him? Did you resent the fact that he was gone? Three weeks was nothing to a member of the Fatui, how long had Childe been in Liyue before he met you, and yet now those weeks seemed interminable. And if it seemed so to him, he who was used to the isolation, then what would it be like for you?

The Harbinger sighed. Placing a blank sheet on top of his letter he stood up. He never got that much time to write letters. Maybe that was why they weren’t really any good. But you didn’t mind. Didn’t you?

 It was dark when he stepped off the ship and onto the docks of Liyue. Night had fallen, and the lanterns were lit, casting a familiar glow on the city which Childe had come to appreciate so much. Taking a pocket watch out of his pack he checked the time, cursing when he realized how truly late it was. Hurrying up the ramp he didn’t bother to look behind at the subordinates who were also plodding towards the city. If they got lost it was their fault.

The door opened silently, something that made the Harbinger breathe out a sigh of relief. Hopefully he wouldn’t wake you up. Setting down his things he smiled slightly to himself. It’d certainly be a surprise, you waking up to him next to you. Hopefully you’d forgive him for not waking you at 4 in the morning. Walking slowly down the hall, hoping that the occasional creaks weren’t audible, Childe slid open the door to the bedroom you shared.

The first thing he noticed was the chill of the room, something that surprised him. The next thing he noticed was the door to the balcony open. The third thing was you, leaning against the railing, gaze pointed towards the inky sky, expression somewhat distant. He didn’t move for a moment, taking in this small moment of intimacy. You looked beautiful, face glowing slightly from the distant lanternlight, expression serene, a soft smile playing at the edges of your mouth. And yet there was something opaque in your eyes, something that Childe couldn’t quite touch upon. It shook him out of his thoughts, and caused him to call out softly to you.

“I’m home.”

You started for a moment, spinning around to meet the Harbinger’s gaze. For a moment you were still, but then a sort of cry left your lips, as you barreled into Childe’s chest. He just as soon wrapped his arms around you, sighing softly, for the moment feeling nothing but pure bliss, pure love.

“You’re home.”

“I am.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” You drew back, expression ecstatic.

“I’ve missed you too.”

For a moment Childe hesitated, not wanting to break this moment, not wanting to go down that path of doubt, of fear and uncertainty. Yet he was tired, and slightly emotional. If he regretted it later so be it, he had to ask the question that burned in the back of his mind, the question that had once more reappeared upon seeing your expression.

“Am I worth waiting for?”

“Oh Ajax.” your reaction was immediate as you wrapped your arms once more around him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Always, you’re always worth waiting for.”

“But I’m away for so long. And when I’m here I’m still bound to my duties as a Harbinger. Nor can I shed that part of me when I’m not doing my job. I cannot get back those pieces of me that would make me a better lover, a better person. What if I’m just not worth it?”

“Don’t talk like that!” You let out a small sigh, that opaque expression once more visible in your eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You aren’t missing anything, you aren’t worth any less than me or any other person. You’re loyalties might be… unconventional –”

“You mean wrong to most?”

“I mean unconventional. And yes even wrong. There may be parts of your work I hate, things I wish you wouldn’t do or have to do. But I don’t wish for you to change. You. Childe. Ajax. You are who you are, and that is the person I’ve fallen in love with. It’s a choice I made, and I don’t question it, don’t regret it. So neither should you.”

“Are you sure?” Childe knew he was probably being annoying, but he didn’t care. Neither did you, it seemed, for you simply shook you head, an exasperated expression on your face.

“Yes. I will always be sure.”

Childe nodded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from off his back. Suddenly he was aware of how very tired he was. Stifling a yawn he smiled once more.

“It’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“Yes,” you smiled, closing the balcony door and sliding the curtains closed, “we should.”

[brightly-painted-canvas]

How does it feel? (drabble, The Old Guard - Andy & Nicky)

I had this vignette sitting in my heart for a few days and I figured out I should write it down before I ended up losing its warmth. I am a sucker for fics about Andy’s and Nicky’s relationship and this is somehow a small attempt at describing how they communicate, even over a difficult topic like mortality.

.

It’s morning. Early and quiet.

Andy is sneaking inside the safehouse from the back door, sure she’d be the only one up at this hour until she rounds the corner and sees Nicky at the kitchen table, kneading bread with swift but vigorous movements.

She quickly considers her options: Nicky has for sure noticed her already, so heading toward her room without saying ‘hello’ doesn’t sit right. She also had wanted a cup of coffee to wash down the stale taste of alcohol sitting under her tongue after a long night of cheap drinks, so the kitchen had to be a brief stop before hitting the bed.

 She quietly steps inside, scanning the situation: flour stains are all around the main surfaces, the oven is already turned on and a fragrant smell of sweet baking cookies is filling the air of the small room.

Nicky doesn’t even lift his head, he just fixes his big, pale eyes on her and smiles that minute smile of his.

“Coffee?” he asks, his deep soothing voice still rough with sleep.

Andy nods once and Nicky is already moving, briefly wiping his hands on a clean dishrag before reaching the cupboard for a mug. The family-size moka he insists on keeping in almost all the safehouses they use more frequently is already filled with blessedly warm, bitter coffee.

She sits on one of the kitchen table’s chairs, near the momentarily abandoned bread dough.

Once he has placed the mug in front of her, she grins and says: “You’re a saint.”

He snorts.

It’s an inside joke between them: she doesn’t believe in anything holy. He doesn’t anymore (maybe).

But if there ever was anything worth calling sainted in Andy’s long life, it would always somehow be related to her Nicolò.

He wouldn’t agree, of course.

  Nicky gets back to his task of kneading bread to perfection, quiet and precise, like all of his movements.

Andy sips her coffee and enjoys the silence, the brief interruptions dictated by the oven’s ticking and the bread’s slamming over and over on the table’s board.

She observes Nicky’s profile like she has done so many times before, noticing his somehow always disheveled hair having grown a bit too long, the dark circles under his eyes having deepened in the last months, enhancing the tiny white scar under his left eye, the one connected to the cut on his mesophrium and over his right brow.

He was never specific about his life before his first death, but Andy somehow knows the story behind that long scar. She remembers the feelings she had in reaction to that lighthearted confession he uttered: disbelief and outrage.

After all her years wandering the Earth, that tiny information still had her despair about humanity, its obstinacy in bringing suffering to its own, repressing and oppressing what is pure and good and beautiful.

What she hates the most has always been feeling powerless in the face of injustice.

But if Nicolò may once have been a scared, vulnerable boy, he wasn’t anymore.

Andy’s gaze lingers on his strong arms, his wide shoulders, the set of his angular jaw, the muscles moving under his pale skin: he is a remarkably powerful man now, her brother. A forever 30 years old warrior who died in his prime, never to be seen aging and wilted if not for many, many years to this day. And not by her, it seems.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, breaking their prolonged silence.

Nicky hums, a singular small sound, affirmative.

“What’s on your mind?” she follows, knowing all too well it’s pointless: Nicky never answers these questions if he can avoid it, if it’s someone else other than Joe asking, if Joe somehow doesn’t know already.

This time as well, he shifts his gaze to meet hers and smiles, tiredly but reassuringly.

Andy prides herself to be able to read all her brother’s tiny reactions, unsaid truths, hidden emotions: Nicolò may be the hardest one to read, but she has always managed.

She doesn’t know it as deeply as Yusuf, but she understands his core in her own way.

She uncurls her hand from around the mug’s handle and places it upon Nicky’s dusted with flour’s one, which immediately stills over soft bread dough.

Their eyes are still locked and Andy thinks back at all the times she had read deep into these pools of grey mist and green waters, threading out his emotions like a Moira spinning a seafoam yarn.

When he’s this particular type of quiet, unguarded and open, she can read him like a well-known piece of poetry, an ancient song.

“How does it feel?” he asks, and Andy feels like flinching, but he already has his warm hand turned, cupping her smaller one, resting the tips of his fingers on her wrist like it’s a casual position, not a subtle way to feel her life pulsing.

Oh, she thinks. Oh, my sweet one.

They hadn’t had time yet to talk about any of it.

They had to run and hide and let the dust settle, had to decide over the consequence of Booker’s actions, had to figure out Copley, had to wait for her to heal for the first time in forever, had to care about Nile.

Nicky had only had time to exhale a tiny sigh while still strapped on a medical bed, give his wise speech over immortality (wasted on the obtuse mind of an already dead man), ask her if she felt like facing yet another tiring battle.

He had accepted everything that came after with his usual grace, his absolute faith: trusted her leadership without faltering once over almost one thousand years, shielded her with his body like it was meant to be used that way, sacrificed yet some more pain, another death, to survival.

They had yet to talk about it, like they always do somehow in some way at some point, the two of them.

In their long, silent moments shared, just like this one, they always end up talking about what matters the most.

“I feel finite.” she replies, smiling privately at her beloved little brother.

He smiles back and Andy knows he has tricked her once again: he has let her in only to be able to see her in return, to gaze into her soul. Her clever, smart little brother.

She truly envies how effortlessly he manages to do that.

“It’s good.” she adds. She lifts her hand from his soft grip, caressing up his arm to his shoulder, the side of his face, the tip of his too long ash brown hair.

He lets her touch him gently, strokes the skin under his eye with her thumb, and holds the side of his head in her palm.

You are mine: my kin, my family, she tells him, through her silence. I will leave you, but you’ll always have me. I am right here.

“Finally.” she sighs, contentedly, conveying her calmness with her touch, the long awaited peace to her eternal inner turmoil now right there, close to the surface: she has a time now.

She doesn’t have to long for an end that never comes, anymore.

  His smile is a blessed thing, once again: a brief glance at unfiltered grace, the purity of a cherished soul she saw growing, learning, mending, finding its purpose and balance.

She is old and tired, but her love for this one will always bring her back to her primitive emotions, her loyalty, her animal instinct of offering and receiving protection.

She often recalls with amusement having been worshipped as a god, in the past: she had with Nile, right after meeting her. She sometimes thinks about what those ancient, forgotten people would had said and done for her Quỳnh, her Yusuf, her Nicolò. Her Sébastien and her Nile.

She’s sure they would have fallen for this remarkable man’s eyes like they did with hers, with his secret smiles and gentle voice. Worshipped his proud profile and handsome body in a manner that would have made Yusuf bristle with jealousy, exactly like he did back in the Renaissance, when a bit too many artists had their greedy eyes on the classical features of the other half of his soul.

She chuckles low, lost in her silly thoughts. Nicky doesn’t ask, but looks glad to see mirth on her face.

  The oven rings and Andy lets her baby brother go with a last stroke of his soft hair. He moves his head just enough to place a small, grateful kiss on the skin of her fingers.

“Let me get you those biscotti, they should be perfect with coffee.” he says, turning around to open the oven: warmth engulfs the tiny kitchen and Andy is sure it won’t take long for Joe and Nile to wake up now, following the sweet scent of food with rumbling stomachs, like the puppies they not-so-secretly are.

It means her quiet time shared with Nicky is coming to an end.

She accepts a plate of still hot cookies with a satisfied hum that turns into a shameless moan once she tastes the first one: “You’re my favourite!” she exclaims, like she often does in these cases.

“You don’t have favourites, remember?” he smirks, getting back to his softened bread dough.

“That doesn’t sound like me at all.” she smiles with mischief, gulping down some more coffee, as heavy steps start resounding from the floor above them, down the stairs, and Joe’s voice calling for his husband heralds his appearance at the kitchen’s door.

.

Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for any mistake, English is not my first language.

I’m on Ko-fi!

[c-is-for-circinate]

Post-ep 123 Reaction

Wow, y’all.  What a ride.

You know, I used to do these after every single CR episode.  Every single one, 2 AM, exhausted and dazed, trying to pour out smart thinky thoughts onto tumblr because I’d be so overflowing with ideas and feelings.

I haven’t so much, lately, and I think part of that is just the fact that I have not been enjoying this Aeor arc.  I’ve hated the traveling along with Lucien in a way that’s made it unpleasant to watch, instead of fun.  (For me, personally!  Many people have been enjoying the tension, and I know the players have been enjoying the tension, and that’s fine!  Yay for them!)  Some of the ancient ruins explorations, too, have gotten just a little too creepy-horror-game for sitting alone in my apartment at one in the morning.  I’ve had less to say.  I’ve wanted to say it less.

And that’s not true tonight.  I can’t remember the last time I got excited about a CR episode like I was tonight.  Oh, there’ve been bits and moments I loved all throughout, there always are, that’s why I’m still watching live even in an arc that hasn’t thrilled me, but I loved the whole episode today, all five and a half hours of it, and god that feels good.

So in celebration, some specific bullet points:

The start of the episode, the discovery of the eyes on Beau and Caleb.  The attempts at science.  The fear, and yet, also, the glimmers of...okay but what if we could use this?  (The moment in the second half, after the Tombtakers ran off, when Beau suggests going into her dreams to ask for help to find them--yes.  Yes.  I still don’t have a lot of interest in evil wizard plotlines when you doom yourself/the world/etc out of curiosity, but the willingness to dive into this terrifying thing that might change you, might break you, because you need what it can give you in order to save a thing you love (your friends, the world) more than you need to be whole or sane or even, necessarily, alive--that is my GOOD SHIT.)     

Guys, I just loved every single minute of that white dragon fight, okay?  It was such a mess.  It was such a mess!  And look, there’s a very specific kind of frenetic energy that the table gets when they find themselves in the middle of a terrifying boss battle, and there’s a different very specific kind of wild ‘this may as well happen’ energy they get when things go terribly wrong entirely due to random chance, and getting the compound of both of those things at once is always glorious.  Nobody is prepared for anything!  Everybody is freaking out!  There’s good reason to suspect that, even if someone dies a bit, everyone’s going to make it out alive, but shit’s wild in the middle there and it’s just such a joy to watch.     

Likewise, I know that final fight was really stressful for both the cast and a lot of viewers, but honestly in so many ways I watched it feeling so much less stressed than the past few weeks have made me?  Yes, it was a horrible, horrible fight, the team in so far over their heads, so low on sleep and spells and any resources at all.  But, god, thank god, at least it was finally over.  There’s no going back to fake amity with the Tombtakers after this, no more playing along and trying to plot treason while the person you’re plotting against is probably hearing every word.  Enemies can be faced!  They can be fought, or fled, or defeated, they can be destroyed or put off for another day, but at least nobody’s pretending any more while trapped in wary uncertain fear of their own houseguests.  At least now it’s done.     

The fucking Iron Shepherds parallels.  Just.  Yes. I have hated the trapped feelings of traveling alongside Lucien and his crew, but the Iron Shepherds parallels are, while stab-me-in-the-heart painful, so fucking good.  The very best moments with Lucien have been the ones that mimic Mollymauk, not even because they bring hope that Molly could come back to us someday (although that’s there, that faint shimmering thread), but because it is always the best, worst, most glorious twist of irony. Molly died trying to save his friends, saving his friends, from the violence of a monster who was so very like him in all the ways he was terrified to know.  Lorenzo and his ragtag group of multiclassed minions, full of loyalty, arrogance, unexpected powers, here to torture and enslave.  The Nein have more power now, a little more negotiated control, they are different--but so much of it is just window-dressing as they’ve been dragged along on this pell-mell journey against their will, told when to walk and when to sleep, headed towards a place they would’ve gone anyway at the behest of someone they really do not give a shit about any more.  It’s so much the same. And the thing that is beautiful, and the thing that I love, the one thing for which I do love Lucien, is just--god, the irony.  The irony!  Because it’s not just that Lucien is like Lorenzo, that Molly turns out to be like the man that killed him after all; it’s not just Lucien, all unknowing, rebuilding old grudges and replaying old scenes without even knowing them.  It’s the fact that Molly’s death is the only reason this can happen in the first place. Mollymauk Tealeaf, murdered and buried, wanting only to protect his teammates from a megalomaniacal killer--sacrificing himself on a hope and a chance that maybe, maybe, he and his friends could all survive, and they’d all be fucked anyway if he didn’t--he died to do it.  And it worked.  They were safe, for a little while, for long enough to rescue Jester and Yasha and Fjord.  Long enough to keep going, to leave part of the world better than they found it, to canonize him in his own way.  Except now here they are again, worse and deeper into the same shit than ever before, and it never could have been like this if Molly had survived.  He derailed Lorenzo long enough to save them then, and created the forward path for the Lucien they’re facing now. It’s terrible.  It’s beautiful.  And that’s some damn good storytelling.

The start of the next episode is going to be very very hard for the Nein!  In so many ways, they’re back exactly where they were episodes ago when they first started traveling with Lucien’s crew to begin with: one threshhold crest in their possession, beat to hell and almost entirely out of spells, exhausted, in desperate need of a long rest, with a probably-pursuing enemy that doesn’t seem inclined to let them have one.  It’s as untenable now as it was then.

They have so much more knowledge now (was it worth it?).  They have their own connection to the city now (will it cost them more than they’ve gained?).  Maybe they have a direction.  Probably they’ve got options.  They’ve got an angel, an owl, a wooly mammoth, and a destination.  Maybe, if they’re very fast and very lucky, maybe, if Caleb uses a teleport spell or they somehow manage to navigate through the snow in their exhaustion with all their luck, they’ll make it to Essek in time to collapse almost safely.  They’ve needed backup so badly.  They’ve needed someone, anyone, to keep them safe for just a few hours so they can plan, and think, and sleep.

And they’ve been so busy trying to play nice, giving in to their fear, trying to avoid the fight they just dove into (with half the team exhausted and half their spell slots gone!), that they haven’t let themselves go and get those things.  And now they’re out the other side of that fight.  Now they know, just a bit more, what Lucien and his team are made of.

Now they can finally, maybe, maybe, start finding ways to take back their own control instead of keeling over with the fear.  I hope.  I hope, I hope, I hope.

[raleighcarrera]

what we do

the royal masquerade | kayden vescovi x mc (juliet rosario)

queen juliet rosario and former crown shield kayden vescovi meet up somewhere no one knows who either of them are. for @trmaw​ ❤️

~2.2k words | T

the sun was high in the sky when juliet stepped out of her carriage, though the light fabric of the casual dress she was wearing helped keep her cool as her feet hit the pavement.

there was no one with her to aid with her skirt as she moved about, no guards or security tending to the horses in an attempt to act casual while they continued to observe her.

it was just her and the driver, out in town, but soon enough, there’d be someone else meeting them, too.

soon enough she’d see kayden again.

they’d parked on the outskirts of a market, and as she made her way through the stalls no one spared her a glance -- there wasn’t a single flicker of recognition in any passing townsperson’s gaze for the queen of cordonia. 

that made the long journey she’d endured worth it all on its own.

wandering deeper into the market, she allowed herself to be swallowed up by the crowd, reveling in the simple freedom of walking around unattended, something she was never permitted to do at home.

life had become almost unbearably structured, as of late. she hardly had a moment to herself to breathe, let alone an entire afternoon to disappear. so she planned on taking advantage of every last second she’d have masquerading as a commoner, and that started with exploring the wares around her while she waited for kayden.

“miss?” her pulse stuttered as a vendor called out to her, certain she’d been caught. juliet turned slowly and relaxed as she saw it was only a young man at a flower stall, surrounded by dozens of brilliant blooms. he waved her over, and she went to him with a smile, happy to give him a sale.

but when she stopped in front of the stall, he didn’t try to sell her on any of the bouquets he had available. instead, he presented her with one wrapped set of roses and daisies and the deepest grin she’d seen in a long time. “a gentleman was here earlier,” the vendor explained, as she carefully took the flowers from his hands, “he said to give these to the most beautiful woman at the market, and that i’d know when she arrived.”

juliet scoffed, staring down at the bouquet she was holding in disbelief. she could feel her face grow hot as she looked up to glance around the market.

kayden was already here, then. somewhere.

“thank you,” she said, trying not to sound too flustered as she dipped her head to breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers. “they’re gorgeous, but are you sure they’re for me?”

“quite sure.” juliet stilled, realizing the boy at the stall’s mouth hadn’t moved. no, the deep voice who’d said the words was one she’d recognize anytime, anywhere. 

she turned slowly and met kayden’s eyes, feeling her rapidly beating heart jerk to an abrupt stop. 

kayden smiled softly at her as their eyes locked. “i knew he wouldn’t fail me,” he said, stepping closer. “it’s hardly a competition.”

the bustle of the market around them faded into the background as she moved forward, too, to meet kayden, shifting the flowers she was holding into one arm so her free hand could reach for his. “it’s good to see you,” juliet said quietly, biting back a sigh as kayden’s fingers twined with hers, the simple and innocent brush of skin on skin immensely comforting. “thank you for the gift.”

kayden lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the ridge of her fingers before gently leading her away from the flower stall. “it was nothing,” he said, “i’m glad it worked out.”

there was a pause as they paced back towards the outskirts of the town square. she knew they were both thinking the same thing -- how impossible it’d be for kayden to do anything as lovely for her, back home. how relegated he’d been to a private life, how they were barely even able to look at each other, anymore.

juliet shook her head, determined to cast the dark thoughts from her mind. this was not the time nor the place for such a discussion. their outings were few and far between; there should be nothing to taint them.

they reached a stone fountain out of view from most of the market. she glanced up and saw that the driver who’d accompanied her for security was nearby but doing his best to give her privacy, and relaxed as they both sat on the ledge. kayden moved to take the flowers from her and set them aside, then grasped her other hand, too. 

“it is a gift, to see you,” he murmured, seeming to realize he’d failed to say as much, earlier. “i’ve missed you terribly since we were last together.”

it had been quite some time. fabian had left the kingdom for foreign relations with a neighboring province and she’d been able to spend the night at hunter’s without drawing raised eyebrows. fortunately, hunter had remained a good and loyal friend in addition to his standing as her policy advisor, allowing she and kayden to meet in secret and revel in the luxury of privacy.

but that was nearly an entire month ago. her heart ached as she studied the weary lines of kayden’s face, his expression set with longing. how unfair, that a soul as vibrant as his should be forced to wait around for the half-romance she could afford him.

it seemed even being queen could not solve all injustices in the world.

“i’ve missed you far more than you know,” she agreed, her voice tight with emotion. juliet blinked, leaving her eyes shut momentarily to try to dispel some of the thick sadness shrouding her voice. the last thing they needed now was for kayden to be stuck comforting her on their one afternoon alone. 

but when she fluttered her lashes back open she saw him still smiling patiently, fondness in his eyes, and that just made her heart ache worse. 

“tell me you’ve been well,” he prompted, drawing a chuckle from her despite herself. only kayden could worry about whether she was eating or sleeping enough in the palace.

“as well as expected, without you.” his hands squeezed hers tightly, the rough pad of his calloused thumb dragging across the backs of her knuckles. part of him seemed almost pleased to hear she was unwell without him, though she knew she could hardly blame him for that. in her more selfish moments, she felt the same way. “and yourself?”

“the same,” kayden said quietly. though his lips were only slightly turned up at the corners, she could read the smile in his eyes perfectly, and marveled at how intuitive his once-stoic face now felt to her. after so long spent studying kayden, it seemed she could read him now with just a glance. so there was no missing the slight nervousness on his expression when he said, “i have some news.”

“oh?” juliet tried to keep her voice light even as her mind raced with possibilities. she couldn’t help but to assume the worst -- that kayden was leaving cordonia, that he was no longer interested in a secret relationship, that he was sick...

seemingly sensing her hesitation, kayden squeezed her hand comfortingly. “hunter is reinstating me as his head of security.”

she blinked. “he is?”

kayden’s lips spread into a real smile, then. he nodded. “he feels the decision will be well supported after some of the recent attention.”

hunter was probably right. over the last year, kayden had been working tirelessly with the local orphanage, relocating many of the children and providing resources for the rest. he’d spent hours doing work her administration barely took an interest in, despite her pushing. he’d very nearly singlehandedly led the effort to fix the problems from the inside out.

juliet was quiet momentarily as her head spun with the news. kayden’s return to his former role meant he’d be around more, certainly, and in an approved context. it would no longer seem suspicious to be seen with him; there would be a reason for him to be at the palace.

but it also meant he’d return, more prominently, to the public eye. the people would have a chance to get used to him again, to come around after they’d once turned their backs.

and that opened up a variety of possibilities.

she had to actively work not to get carried away by the news. she knew she couldn’t allow herself to be too excited just yet; possibilities always came with challenges and this new development was sure to bring problems along for the ride, too.

but the spark of hope she felt was thrilling regardless. her own face split with a grin, and juliet moved to clasp both of kayden’s hands together in hers. “he’s absolutely right. that’s wonderful news. for both of us, of course, but... for you especially. i can’t think of anyone more deserving.”

her nagging guilt flared up again. for so long, she’d stewed over the fact that she was in the palace while kayden faced derision, when all he’d ever done was protect her in an effort to help cordonia. the public that despised him had no idea how much he’d sacrificed for their benefit, so that she could lead them to a brighter future. 

thoughts of what more she could do to help him kept her up at night. she’d spent many hours planning ways to both steal time with kayden and work to help him without drawing attention, and finally felt a small step towards justice had been taken.

“it will be nice to get back to what i am familiar with,” kayden said humbly, but the bashful look on his face said he was pleased by her recognition. “and of course there’s the added benefit of getting to spend more time with you.”

one of his hands lifted to gently brush a lock of hair off her forehead. he leaned in closer, his eyes intense. “just being able to see you will put my heart at ease, juliet. finally i’ll have a break from wondering about you with my every thought.”

without pausing to spare a glance around the square, she leaned in and kissed him, pressing in close. the overwhelming affection within her swelled and burst as the familiar scrape of kayden’s stubble scratched her skin, the passion in his kiss so comforting she let herself drown in it greedily.

his hands tangled in her hair, pulling the careful curls out of shape. carelessly, juliet wound her arms around him, too, drawing closer and closer until there was nowhere else to go. she only realized she’d groaned into his mouth when kayden’s teeth caught her bottom lip in answer, clutching her body tighter to his.

she was suddenly desperate to be somewhere more private, and as kayden made it his mission to steal every last breath from her lungs she wondered if it would be inappropriate to drag him back to the carriage she’d taken into town so they could be alone. but her decision was made for her as kayden pulled back, eyes as bright as the smile that was still fixed on his face.

“i came here to hear your voice,” he said, laughing shortly, “i shouldn’t waste all our time together this way.”

“oh, but it’s very welcome,” juliet assured him with a grin, catching his mouth in one last soft kiss before drawing back with a content sigh. “hardly a waste at all. i know what you mean, though.” many of her dreams at the palace simply revolved around just spending time with kayden as they used to. who knew how long it would be before they would have some time alone together again?

she knew it would be slow going -- that it would take time for the public to get used to kayden again, that it might never be possible for her to establish what she had always wanted, from the very moment she made her first bid at queen...

...but it was hard to care when the here and now was so alluring, the man seated before her appearing so effortlessly as everything she’d ever wanted.

her teeth bit at her sore bottom lip as she observed kayden from beneath her lashes. he was looking back at her fondly, in a way that made her pulse gallop. “well, we do have the whole day,” she mused, humming as he took her hands gently in his again.

the sunny smile he was sporting boosted her own mood significantly. “let’s make the most of it, then,” kayden suggested, standing to pull her up, too.

juliet’s gaze swept the town square and the market beyond it, alive with food and strangers and opportunity, a rare luxury for two people who lived with secrets such as they did.

there was much to take advantage of, and the sun was high in the sky. she couldn’t think of a more advantageous situation to be in.

“let’s,” she agreed, gathering herself and her flowers to follow kayden back to life beyond their hiding place, her hope renewed. 

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XXXI

A/N: Well! A week late, and I'm back on schedule! I have had... a really crazy time this past week, and I am SO sorry for that unannounced break I had to take. I've been staying up Tuesday nights to watch the premiere of Loki when it airs, but after last week's episode I ended up feeling really unwell, so I wasn't able to sleep for a good bit of the night. By the time I COULD have slept, it was no longer worth it, because we were going to have someone coming over with papers we needed to sign. Only expecting that to take about thirty minutes, I decided I'd sleep afterwards. Only, while we're doing that, an ambulance and a fire truck and a few police showed up next door, which caused us to be distracted enough that the signing took an hour. Walk over there to see what had happened and... turns out, my neighbour had passed away. Understandably, that, sort of took any interest in writing very much out of me for the weekend. I eventually made myself update my story Can You Imagine?, which ended up being a really good thing, as it was able to sort of get me back in the swing of writing. So, a week late, here is Chapter 31 of Not Today. I hope you all enjoy <3 Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

Asta couldn’t stop pacing once she and Ivar had returned to their chambers. He’d tried a few times to get her to stop, take a moment and sit down, but each time she did try, she ended up on her feet once more and pacing anxiously. It was obvious what was bothering her- after all, he himself couldn’t stop the image in his mind of Freydis- or, really, of Katia.

Eventually, as she continued to pace, Ivar huffed and leaned back on his hands. “Are you going to stop that tonight?” he asked her irritably. Asta paused finally and turned to look at him.

“Ivar, you saw what I saw,” she said. “I know you did. How are you not… about to lose your mind?”

He chuckled. “I am,” he replied. “And yet, you’re here losing yours enough for both of us. Sit down, perhaps I should call for some wine to make you relax for a moment?” That did nothing to calm her, as he saw her wringing her hands in the way she always did before she began to pace, and he sighed. “Asta, come here.”

Ivar stretched his hand out to her, and after a moment’s hesitation, Asta walked toward him and took it. He pulled her to sit beside him, then took both her hands in his. “We are both in shock,” he said. “What are you thinking about right now, hm?”

“It can’t be her,” she said immediately. “She… Ivar, I carried her. I carried her body, she was gone. I sat with her after I laid her out, long enough that had she lived, I’d have known about it. So how- how can she-?”

“I do not know,” he answered. “But we will figure this out, Asta. You have my word, we will.”

She shook her head, a sort of desperate expression on her face. “How can you know we will?” she asked.

“Because we must,” he replied. “Neither of us will be able to stand it if we do not get these answers, we both know this. But we will. We will.”

Asta nodded a little, and she let Ivar wrap his arm around her and pull her into his side. “I hope you’re right,” she said, her voice soft. “I couldn’t stand it if…”

“I know,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her head. “I know, Asta. I know.”

His words were soothing to the Shieldmaiden, and she gave one more nod before truly settling in against him. He smiled as she did so, and let his fingers drift through her hair slowly. If he could lull her to sleep, he knew that would be the best for both of them. They’d had a strange evening, what with the presentation of the guards’ heads, and then the presentation of Princess Katia. It wasn’t often they would condemn men to death, and see a woman raised from it.

But, then again, he figured none of this really was their fault. They hadn’t meant to get the guards killed, but the fact that they’d let themselves be distracted by Princess Anna was, when he thought about it, their own faults. Perhaps they’d exploited the guards’ weaknesses, but they should have been better trained!

That didn’t mean he was very happy with Prince Igor, young as he was, being exposed to the severed heads. But what could he do? He and Asta were welcome in Kiev so long as they remained on Oleg’s good side, he knew that. Freeing Dir had been quite a risk, one they’d both been more than willing to take, but a risk nonetheless. If Oleg ever heard what they’d done, Ivar knew they would be in worse shape than the heads they were served at dinner.

An image flashed in his mind of Asta’s head, laid somewhere on the ground separated from her body, and then the body of Freydis laid out beside her, his late wife’s eyes empty and unseeing. He couldn’t lose Asta, not after he’d lost Freydis, and everyone else he had ever…

He couldn’t lose her and be alone again.

Nor yet could Asta bring herself to truly consider what it might mean to lose Ivar. But, in the face of the guards they’d eluded being murdered, and in the face of seeing her beloved Freydis back from the dead, she found it hard not to consider such things.

But each time she remembered how lifeless Freydis had been, how her skin had begun to pale, how she’d had to close the Queen’s eyes herself, how strange her skin had felt when she’d kissed her goodbye… There was no way in any world that the woman had still lived. But that didn’t now explain the appearance of this… Princess Katia.

Somehow, Asta felt as though she knew the truth, that this woman was not Freydis, and never would be. Perhaps this was a cruel trick of fate, or another lesson she and Ivar had yet to learn, presented through the Princess, but Asta knew she wasn’t Freydis, not really. No matter how much they would want her to be.

That said, as they laid down that night to sleep, she couldn’t help but wonder what Ivar himself was believing about the woman. If she had to guess… Well, the beliefs of the Viking people tended to lend more to such strange, unexplained events. Whereas Asta believed a man could be raised from the dead, if her Lord was willing, she didn’t believe it really happened anymore. But Ivar? Who could say what he believed about such a thing? Perhaps he believed his gods had returned Freydis from Valhalla, where Asta was sure she should have gone, sacrificing herself as she had, for some reason they could not yet guess.

Still, Asta managed to eventually make herself fall asleep, comforted by the simple fact that she knew Ivar would not let this go until they had some kind of answer. And then…

Then, perhaps they could rest.

The next day, Asta and Ivar chose to get some fresh air, indulging theirselves in a bit of relaxation outside the Palace, for once. They were taking a moment to rest, for Ivar’s sake, when they saw the very woman who had them both so puzzled walking through the crowd, attended by a few handmaidens. Briefly, Asta thought back to the ones she’d once had in Wessex, and she wondered vaguely what might have become of them.

The Princess caught their eyes, and she gave them a small smile. Ivar was stunned once more by the Princess’s likeness to Freydis, but Asta had come to a decision as she’d laid in the dark next to the man she falsely claimed as a husband. As much as Katia looked like Freydis, she would not let that distract her from finding out the truth. She deserved to know, as much as Ivar did, how this was possible, and so she intended to do exactly that.

Though, she didn’t expect that the Katia would dismiss her handmaidens, take a moment, and then wait in such a way that it was clear she wished to be approached. Asta shared a brief look with Ivar, silently asking if he wanted to do as the Princess intended, and when he nodded, she nodded back, and walked out to greet her.

Katia’s attention had been captured by a man appearing to breathe fire, enthralling the crowds around him, but she turned away when she heard Ivar’s greeting of, “Princess.” He gave a short bow, and waited on Katia to turn before he continued. “We’ve been waiting for the opportunity to talk to you privately,” he told her. “Surely, you understand why we need to talk to you.”

She didn’t speak, but watched Ivar expectantly, waiting for him to further explain himself. He did so.

“Oleg is playing games with us.”

“And why do you say so, Ivar the Boneless?” she questioned, finally turning to give the pair of Vikings her full attention.

“You are Freydis,” he replied.

“Freydis? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we,” Ivar said. “But it is true. And you and I… were once married.”

Asta had no good explanation for why she felt a strange twinge in her chest, something unpleasant as she looked between Ivar and this new woman. He hadn’t ever been married to her, she knew, and the idea that Ivar believed he had been was disconcerting to her on a number of fronts- not all of which were really known to the Shieldmaiden.

“Were we really?” Katia asked. “And… what happened to us?”

Ivar fell silent, looked away from her gaze. Asta’s eyes narrowed a bit.

What did this Princess know? Ivar had told Oleg of Freydis’s fate, she knew that, but had Oleg told Katia? Is that why she’d asked such a question that would seem innocent, and yet have such deeper meaning to Ivar?

When he didn’t answer, Katia gave them a small smile, and started to walk away. It wasn’t until that moment that Ivar let out a breath, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. Asta put a hand on his shoulder as an attempt at reassurance, and then she was chasing down the Princess Katia. She wouldn’t let her play with Ivar, not in this way. Not with Freydis.

“Princess!” Asta called out, causing Katia to stop and turn to her now. The Princess smiled at her, and again turned all her attention to her. “What do you know of my husband’s first wife?”

Katia blinked a few times, as if having not expected this. “Is that this… Freydis, he speaks of?” she questioned, tilting her head just a bit. Asta nodded. “I think… he must believe I look like her, and has confused me with her. But what happened… I cannot imagine, for him to react to seeing me as he has.”

“She died,” Asta replied, swallowing hard as the words left her mouth. “In the final Siege of Kattegat. He loved her dearly, as did I, and we still mourn her loss.”

Katia smiled at her softly, and nodded to indicate she understood. “I can understand why you both must have loved her,” she said. “If she was… half as beautiful as you, then she must have been a beautiful woman in her heart, as well.” Confusion flickered across Asta’s face as Katia reached up to brush some of her hair behind her shoulder, and let her hand come down to rest on her arm. “And your husband is lucky to have you now, Asta the Prophet. Keep a careful eye on him. This city… who knows what dangers it may hide?”

She gave a brief nod of her head, and melted into the crowd just like that.

The Shieldmaiden couldn’t help the way she lifted a hand to brush through her hair, where Katia’s hand had just been. What angle was she playing at? Was this supposed to be an unnerving sort of thing, to make Asta question what was reality and what was fiction?

Whatever that had been, it didn’t leave Asta’s mind through the entire day, not as she returned to Ivar, took his hand, and suggested they return to their own chambers for some rest before dinner would be served that night, not even as they sat at dinner, once more in the company of Oleg, Igor, and the mysterious Katia.

Then again, sat across the table from the woman, how could Asta forget their interactions in the market that morning? Especially as Katia continued to glance at her from across the table, only to smile gently at her and turn away each time she was caught. This Rus excursion she and Ivar were on only seemed to grow weirder and weirder, and more and more baffling, to her. At this point, all she really wanted was for things to be normal again. She wanted to be with Ivar, and with Freydis, back at home in Kattegat. That was all.

When the two finally returned to their chambers that night, dinner having gone smoothly, Asta immediately decided to get this concern off her chest. “Katia is playing with us as well,” she said, earning Ivar’s attention as he had been removing his leg braces for sleep.

“Is she?” he questioned. “Oleg is, I believe, in having brought her here, but…”

“No,” Asta said. “It is Katia as well. I think she knows more than she’s let on, and it worries me. She acted interested in what you were saying, about having been married to her before, and of course she would. What woman wouldn’t listen and pay attention to an attractive Viking claiming to have once been her husband?”

Ivar smirked a little at how she so easily called him attractive, and he wondered if she quite realized she’d said it.

“But good Lord!” Asta explained. “She doesn’t have to act so strange about it. It’s as if she’s taunting me with what you said, speaking about how we both must miss her if she was, what, ‘half as beautiful’ as me? What does that even mean? Freydis was far more beautiful than I am.” She paused, considering. “Well, not that Katia would know that, she’s never met her, but if she would just bloody well look in the mirror she would see it!”

“Do you not think you are beautiful?” Ivar questioned, chuckling just a bit at the rather lively rant she’d just gone on. The Shieldmaiden huffed and turned on him.

“Is that all you took away from that?!” she asked frustratedly. She gave a scoff and muttered out, “Men,” before turning back to continue brushing out her hair. This caused Ivar to burst out laughing in full.

“Asta, come let me take care of your hair,” he said, wanting again to calm her as he so often did when she became worked up- as she so often calmed him when he became worked up. Her answer surprised him.

“I’m quite alright doing it myself, thanks.”

He smiled amusedly, and chuckled. “I know you are,” he said. “But I like doing it for you. It helps me calm down at the end of the day.”

Ivar watched how Asta paused, considering, and then eventually came to the bed with her hairbrush in hand, sitting facing away from him and letting him take the brush from her. Just as he’d known she would do.

The trick was, with Asta, to ask her to do things which would help someone else, when she wouldn’t let herself be helped. There were times when she would become stubborn and insist she could handle herself, insist that she was alright on her own, but there was never a time she would turn down the chance to be of assistance to another person, not when the cause was good. Once Ivar had figured that out, he’d figured out how to nearly always get her to accept his help. Ask her to help her, and when she declined, quickly turn it so it would help him if she accepted. She always caved in, then.

“Why does she make you nervous, hm?” he asked, brushing through her hair in long, soothing motions. “Is it the fact she may be Freydis, brought back to us somehow?”

Asta shook her head a little. “I don’t believe she is Freydis,” she confessed. “I’m not convinced as such, anyway. But whoever she is…” She took a deep breath, batting around the idea of being completely transparent with Ivar, of opening up to him entirely.

“You believe she is Freydis, and I know how much you loved her. I don’t want this Katia, whoever she is, to take advantage of that. It would be all too easy for her to play at being Freydis, this woman we have both loved, for her to convince you it is true, and for you to begin trying to convince me.”

“And you really think I could?” he asked.

“I don’t,” Asta confessed. “And therein lies the problem.” She turned, making him stop brushing her hair as she did so, and taking the brush from his hand. Sitting it to the side, she moved to take his hands in hers, before looking him in the eye. “I don’t care how much we disagree on this, and on her, Ivar, whether we are always on the same page, or never. Only promise me that it won’t ever come between us, and that I won’t lose you to this.”

His eyes widened a bit, as if her quiet plea had been the last thing he’d expected to hear, and he straightened up a bit. Ivar’s grip on her hands tightened as he looked into her worried eyes. It all made perfect sense to him, the last pieces to this puzzle falling into place.

“You won’t lose me to anything, dear Asta,” he promised. “As wonderful as it would be for Freydis to live again, I would not abandon you on a possibility of that being true. I would not abandon you if it were true.”

“That’s not-”

“Quite what you are afraid of, I know,” he said. “And even if you never agree with me on who Katia is, I will not abandon you for it. We have come too far together, and you have become too important to me, for me to leave you now over a disagreement. We are, neither of us, any more than a human, nor are we any less. It is not in our nature to be in perfect agreement at all times, and it would be foolish of me to abandon you, who have been at my side through all manner of things, because you do not hold the same beliefs as me. Hm?”

“It would,” she agreed. “Thank you. I…” A pause. “I care too much for you to let something come between us, especially something which we may never have a direct answer for.”

“As do I,” he replied. “Now come and go to sleep. There is still much to be done, and we must continue our work tomorrow.”

Unlike the night before, Asta felt at peace as she settled in beside him to rest. There was no greater reassurance for her than one given by him, and for him, there was no greater reassurance than to feel her, ever by his side.

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[secret-engima]

Snippet of One in a Hundred

     It had been a long time since Oscar had cried himself to sleep in his aunt’s arms. A long time since the voices in his head were so loud he couldn’t sleep unless there was someone real and alive to hold him tight and make sure he didn’t shake apart in his dreams. But his last semi-solid memory was Aunt Parsine pulling him —them— down and pulling him close while she flicked the covers overtop of them. He dimly recalled pulling his magic around Ozpin, cradling him close as best he could, the nearest he could get to a hug when one of them was incorporeal.

     He dreamed of green magic and white hair. Of gold eyes that stared down at their intertwined hands and looked sad and confused.

     The morning felt sluggish and off when Oscar woke up. The world felt blurry, vague, far away. There were no ghosts haunting the edges of his senses, but it wouldn’t take much to bring them out. Oscar stared blankly at the empty bed, at the blinking clock that told him Aunt Parsine had let him sleep in a full hour past his usual time, and he sighed heavily. He felt old. He got up slowly, achingly, and before daring to brave the bathroom or the idea of getting dressed, he lightly probed his mind. Ozpin was back on his little island, magic flickering faintly in something akin to exhausted sleep. Oscar let him stay that way as he forced his body to hurry through getting up and getting dressed, through redoing the bandages around his neck and pulling his gloves back on and making sure everything was properly tucked in before buttoning up his shirt.

     Ozpin was still “asleep” as Oscar slunk out to the kitchen area and found his aunt had waited for him instead of heading straight out to the barn for morning chores. Aunt Parsine watched him with concern as she cooked him a breakfast that was easy to digest, just like she did on Quiet Days. He could feel her watching him as he sat down, trying to figure out if he was present or just drifting. Oscar made a point to look her in the eyes for several seconds. A silent confirmation that he was here and not entangled with ghosts. Then he looked down and shook his head. He wasn’t ready to talk about last night.

     Ozpin woke up just as Oscar was entering the barn and grabbing the feed for the old plow horse, Ben. Old Ben hadn’t actually done anything of use on the farm for a few years now, he was too old to pull a plow or even to be ridden by anything heavier than small children, but he had served the Pine family faithfully for over two decades, and he had even saved Oscar’s life more than once. Aunt Parsine and Oscar had both agreed that the old horse deserved a nice, relaxing retirement for whatever time he had left. Oscar let Ozpin flit about on the island of Oscar’s mind for a while without comment, pretending not to notice the sensation of Ozpin cautiously peering through Oscar’s eyes to watch the farm work.

     Finally, when he was out in the fields and out from under Aunt Parsine’s worried eye, Oscar said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

     Ozpin stilled in his head, almost flinched back, then steadied, “…Even after what you have seen?”

     Oscar frowned faintly, “Because of what I’ve seen. You didn’t … you didn’t deserve that.” He took a breath, “Ozpin? I know I said it last night but-. I’m so sorry. For making you relive that. I … I won’t say that I wouldn’t have done it, and if the situation was the same, I know I would do it again. But for whatever it’s worth, I am sorry, and I was wrong.”

     The silence in his head was aching and confused, “You aren’t angry.” Ozpin sounded genuinely confused, “You know now, what I am asking of you. What I am dragging you into. You know that Salem cannot-. Yet you aren’t angry.”

     Oscar’s hands slowed down in their work and he breathed past the urge to hurt something. Betrayal, the taste of it from Ozpin’s memories, sat bitter on his tongue, “None of that was your fault. You were given a choice without being told what it meant. You made mistakes, yes. Forming a religion was a spectacularly bad idea, but … all you ever tried to do was protect mankind. All you’ve sacrificed has been for humanity, even though it has killed you again and again. I can’t be angry with you over that.” He tilted his head, tempted to say he had an idea about Salem and her supposed indestructibility, then decided it wasn’t important right now. What was important was Ozpin and the fragile equilibrium they needed to form, “I … I can’t do it right now. I’ll be non-functional for the rest of the day if I do but … I understand. More than you realize. I understand what that feels like, and I can show you why later.”

     Oscar straightened up and looked out sadly over his aunt’s farm, over the silhouette of his aunt a few hundred yards away, busily working. A peaceful life. Small and isolated but loving and … safe.

     And once again, destiny was calling him to leave his own happiness behind.

     At least I’m not alone in destiny’s grip this time, he thought, but it was a sour, bitter thing. Oscar sighed and pressed a hand over his chest, “I’ll help you.” Ozpin stilled, surprised and confused and a touch disbelieving and Oscar repeated, “I’ll go to Haven, and I’ll help you. I’ll fight your war with you.”

[wangjiplayingwangji]

Can I have please, a bit of Xicheng in which Jiang cheng is being defended by his disciples first, and he doesn't belive he deserves it. Only for Xichen to later do the same to him and defend him in front of other cultivators and Lan Wangji and even Wei Wuxian?

As we know JC deserves all the love and I think his sect and Xichen are more than willing to give it to him.

Thbak you so much for writing if you are interested, and if not I still wish you have a great day!!

Hello! THank you for your request!! I did write you a lil something but I hope you don’t mind that it’s just the disciples defending Jiang Cheng.

Not that I don't love two protective cultivator husbands that defend each other's honor but I just couldn’t think of an instance where Xichen would have to defend JC in front of the cultivation world, and especially wangxian.

I just don't feel like they'd push that too far to the point LXC feels like he needs to step in and vice versa that JC couldn’t clap back. So I wrote the first bit I hope that’s alright and that it’s still a good read! If you have any other xicheng ideas feel free to throw them my way and I hope you enjoy!

-----------------------------

The first time it happened was not long after the burning of Lotus Pier, culling of the Wens, and the arduous and slow task of rebuilding a Sect from the ground up. 

So much had happened in what felt like just a moment and Jiang Cheng once a boy had suddenly found himself needing to be a man.

Still, one does not grow without time and still, a boy at heart Jiang Cheng finds that sleep eludes him in favor of nightmares and he ends up wandering the footways of Jinlintai in the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning.

Lotus Pier had begun taking shape under the Yunmeng Jiang’s siblings dedicated care, but it was the first time in as many months that Jiang Cheng felt the Sect was stable enough to do without him. And through careful planning and with a handful of capable disciples, Jiang Cheng left Lotus Pier in the capable hands of his sister.

Wei Wuxian had been hard-pressed to avoid the conference at all costs, so much so that even the Lan contingent containing the Youngest Jade of Lan hadn’t been enough to convince him. As such he had also remained behind, instructed to teach the remaining disciples in their Sect Leaders stead, though Jiang Cheng couldn’t see Wei Wuxian teaching them any more than troublemaking. Still, with no more excuses and nothing left to be done, Jiang Cheng left to attend his first discussion conference as a Sect Leader.

The days’ events were bland and tackless, Jin Guangshan sat on his throne of pilfered gold and sought to discuss the splicing of the territory they’d left ransacked rather than what should be done with refugees and prisoners of war. Those gathered also seemed more or less complacent to avoid such unpleasant topics and instead licked the boots of the man who’d sacrificed the least to win over tyranny.

Jiang Cheng made his displeasure at the proceedings known and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere productive a variety of times but received no more than what could be seen as patting the head of a particularly disorderly child from his fellows. Jiang Cheng seethed silently at his place setting, speaking only when spoken to with terse and snappish answers under the meetings had finished.

He had no sooner waited for the announcement for the ending of the days’ discussions before he left with a snap of his cloak, not bothering with the custom pleasantries after what is meant to be a “hard days work.”

He retired to his rooms for the night, his only company the visions of his father’s disappointed gaze for how he acted that evening. 

And so he ended up here, a ghost along the walkways of the Jin’s estate, unable to sleep away his woes or the visions of his parents. 

He rounded a corner into the gardens stopping for a moment when the loud tones of fighting reached his ears. He considered going back, not privy to embarrassing himself further by instigating something with his presence, but something made him creep into the shadow of a pillar nearby and wait. 

Peering around the trunk of a tree not far from him Jiang Cheng could make out the signature gold of Jin Sect cultivators as well as the voices and dark robes of his own disciples amongst the bushes.

“-is no more than an insubordinate child!” One of the Jin Cultivators was spitting. “Your so-called Sect Leader is no older than I am! He’s merely a boy playing with his parent’s toys!”

Jiang Cheng flinched where he stood in the dark, he was no fool, he knew what the other Sect’s thought of him, but to hear it so plainly spoken with such disdain would send anyone reeling. And his actions earlier in the day certainly wouldn’t help this reputation either.

“What do you know!” A voice shot back, one that Jiang Cheng recognized as Jiang Huang, an orphan after the siege but determined to follow in his parents’ footsteps as a Jiang disciple. “To your Sect Leader, you are the toys! Disposable, replaceable, and eventually not worth his time! Does your benevolent ruler even know your name? Or the many names of his children?” 

“You-!” 

“Sect Leader Jiang can call all his members by name and treats everyone with respect! Something you Jin’s know nothing about. Sect Leader Jiang was never disrespectful in his suggestions at the conference, your Sect Leader just can’t stand hearing any voice other than his own!” 

“That’s right, that’s right!” Jiang Zhou spoke up. “Discussion conferences aren’t mean for the spoils of war, many things need to be decided while everyone’s together for only a few days yet Jin Guangshan refuses any topic with serious implications!”

“Sure, Sure!” Jiang Ai called out after her shixiong. “Jin-gongzi, you say our Sect Leader is no much older than yourself, but tell me, what have you done that’s comparable to losing your family only to return stronger and proceed to wage war, earn a space at the Sect Leader’s table and rebuild your sect from the ground up? I’m very interested gongzi, surely you must have amassed a great many accomplishments to seem so sure of yourself?” 

“You- You- Hmph! What will I gain wasting time explaining my exploits to you? You’re lucky those of us in Jinlintai are more than gracious! I won’t be so forgiving next time!” 

The Jin boys ran off after being so sorely defeated and after a moment the remaining Jiang’s dissolved into giggles and quiet excited chatter, exceedingly pleased with themselves.

Jiang Cheng remained where he was long after everyone left, wondering what his disciples saw in him that was worth such fervent defending. The Jing Cultivator was right, he did nothing but make a scene and embarrass himself and his legacy, those following in his footfalls are right to be shamed by his actions and yet- 

And yet- 

I will work harder. Jiang Cheng decided, staring up at the same watchful moon his parents had surely both stared at in their lifetimes. I will work harder, and one day I will be a Sect Leader worth defending. I will be worthy of those who follow me.

Kofi

[thegreatestofheck]

Ocean and Alcohol Pt. 6 ✘JJ Maybank✘

Part One! Part Two! Part Three! Part Four! Part Five! 

(gif not mine. all credit to rudypankows!)

Word Count - 4716 Warnings - Abandonment, verbal abuse, brief mention of sexual abuse,  Synopsis - Hurricane Agatha hit and she hit hard. An old friend stops by with bad news and brings along some repressed memories. JJ shows up at your window just before a breakdown and invites you to a kegger at the boneyard with some very harsh news.   A/N - I thought I should start making these a little bit shorter just for readability, so here we go, another short one! As with the last one, there are some pretty heavy themes here especially around the ideas of abandonment, so if those things are going to be triggering, please be cautious! I love you all and your health is the most important thing to me! I also, I decided the ending while writing this, and let’s just say, I’m very very excited. Thank you for your love and support and thank you for 100 followers!

“A storm’s coming,” Kid said, looking out your window. You looked up at him from your book  He was looking dramatic, head resting against the wall, hands laced together in front of him. You knew he was planning a music video out in his head and you tried not to laugh. “It’s more than a storm, Kid,” you said with a sigh, turning the page despite not reading a single word on it. “It’s hurricane Agatha.” “Are we going to be okay?” He asked, eyes shifting away from the window and toward you. You nodded, eyebrows pinched together. “Of course we are, Kid,” you said. By his downcast eyes, you knew that he didn’t really believe you. You set your book down and patted the bed beside you. “Come here.” Kid scurried across the room and jumped up beside you onto the bed. A dull ache pulsed through you, the bruise on your side not yet fully healed. You put an arm around Kid. “We are going to be fine,” you said as firm as you could manage. “This house is well built, sturdy. In the morning, things might look a little haggard, but inside the house we will be perfectly safe.” As you said the words, you thought of all the houses you saw in the cut that were nothing more than shacks. Your heart tightened in your chest thinking about what might happen to them all. Maybe you could convince your dad to let you help in repairs once the storm was over. But you couldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was Kid and making sure that he was safe. Nothing else was more important. You had been mulling over how to get rich fast without your dad getting suspicious for nearly a week since you were thrown down the stairs. Any practical ideas had yet to pop into your head. Not that it mattered much. You were barely seventeen, almost a whole year until you could even vie for full custody of Kid. Still, your nerves ran wild with bad ideas. Become an escort. They get rich fast. But that would involve sex or at least something close to it and if you could barely let JJ touch you, how were you going to let a wrinkly old man that smelled like cigars even breathe anywhere near you? Join a strip club. Just dance, no touching. But there was no guarantee that would get you enough money. Get another job. You were already exhausted as it was, but getting another job was the only thing that made any logical sense to you. That meant less time with JJ and the Pogues, less time with Kid. What would you be sacrificing by getting a second job? Any chance at a real relationship with JJ, sure. But you would also be distancing yourself from the only family you had ever known. Was it worth it? Leaving Kid at the house even longer just so you could make more money? A few more fantastical ideas passed through your dreams; join a mob, become a high class thief, murder your dad in the middle of the night and inherit his money, marry fast and marry rich. You were ten times more inclined to kill your dad than marry any of the rich pricks that lived on Kildare Island, but still, murder was risky and you couldn’t chance getting put away and leaving Kid on his own. Even as you sat beside Kid now, all you could think about was getting him away from your dad. When rain started to pitter against your window, your heart lept at of your chest. Your dad wasn’t home yet and if the hurricane hit now…. Death by hurricane. That was a natural cause and it would still mean you could inherit the money. But you were too young. They would still put you both into foster care. When you first heard the knock at the window, you thought it was just the rain getting harder, but when it came again, your eyebrows pinched together. “JJ?” You stood from the bed, Kid curling his legs up to his chest. To your surprise, and abhorrence, JJ was sitting outside wearing his shorts, muscle t, and backward hat, as if a hurricane wasn’t less than an hour from reaching you. You threw the window open and dragged him inside. He was already soaked to the bone. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You ran back to your bed to grab a few blankets.    “I wanted to talk to you, but the phones are down,” he said, smiling despite the trembling in his body. “Phones are down already?” You threw the blankets around his shoulders, rubbing your hands up and down his arms in hopes of warming him up. “They shut ‘em off I think,” he said, walking in a small circle before sitting on the floor. “JJ, you have to get home. You’ll freeze to death out there.” “Kie drove me.” “Kiara’s out there?” You ran to the window. To your amazement, Kie’s car was in fact parked outside your window. You could barely see her through the rain, but you waved anyway. “Listen,” JJ said, standing. “We’re all going out on the Pogue tomorrow once Agatha moves on. You’re coming.” 

“I can’t.” “Come on! There will be loads of fish and-” “JJ, I really can’t. Not when-” You glanced over at Kid, who was trying not to watch the two of you interact. “My dad will be staying home tomorrow and he’ll expect us to help him clean up whatever damage the storm does. There’s no way I’ll be able to sneak out unnoticed.” “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he said, putting a hand against your neck. “For a good reason.” He scowled his smile fading as he dropped his hand back against his side. “No, not….I just mean that I can’t be doing anything risky right now. Please, tell me you understand.” “Yeah, no, I understand.” He started to back toward the window. You ran a hand over your face, squeezing your eyes shut. “JJ-” “No, Ellie, I understand.” JJ pulled the blankets off of his shoulders and lay them over the back of a chair. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”    “Yeah.” JJ pulled the window open and crawled back out into the pouring rain. You stood in the middle of your room, face in your hands. “Are you not going because of me?” Kid asked. You looked up at him and shook your head. You walked over to Kid, feet shuffling on the floor. You knelt to the ground at his feet and took his hands in yours. “I’m not going because there is no way I can get away tomorrow. That’s all,” you said. “Okay?” “But I can cover you!” Kid said. “I can help-” “No, Kid!” You squeezed his hands, giving yourself a second to calm down. “Kid, you never have to cover for me, okay? If Dad ever asks where I am and you tell him.” “But we always come up with a plan.”    “No more plans, Kid. If I am gone, you tell dad that I’m out with JJ, alright? You tell him that,” you said. “I don’t understand. Why?” “Because-” Because then he’ll want to kill me and not you. “Because it would be better for both of us. You never have to cover for me, Kid. My actions are my own. That means the consequences are mine, too.” Kid nodded his head slowly. It was clear to him that he still didn’t understand completely what you were saying, but that was good. You didn’t want him to. A crack of thunder startled both of you. Half a millisecond later, you saw the flash of lightning. You crawled back into your bed, holding Kid close to you. The wind beat against your house, rain pelting it from all sides. With every new thunderclap, you could feel Kid flinch beneath you. You squeezed your eyes tight, running your fingers through Kid’s hair in hopes to get him to fall asleep.    The light above you flickered, sparked, and went out with a pop. Kid gasped, burying his face between your neck and the pillow. “Shh,” you whispered, rubbing his back as you looked at the lightbulb above. “You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

There was no power when you woke up. Checking your phone, there was no service. It wasn’t as if you expected there to be, but still, you had hoped. Kid was still asleep a few inches away from you. You had no idea what time it was, but from the position of the sun it couldn’t have been much later seven. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning, and stretching your stiff muscles. You opened your door, peering out into the empty house. “Dad?” You called. You remembered that he hadn’t been home when you fell asleep. He could have very well died out there- “Down here!” Your heart plummeted. You peered over the railing down to the foyer. Your dad was surrounded by a sea of candles, none of them lit. “You wanna help me put these around?” You started down the stairs, the chill of the wood shocking your bare feet. As you rounded the bottom of the stairs, you saw that your dad was smiling. “Don’t you think this is overkill on the candles?” You asked. “The generators will be on soon and we won’t need them.” Your dad picked up one of the candles, admiring it for all its generic whiteness. “What else would we do with them?” “There are going to be people all over without power, especially in the cut. I think if I could just take some over-” Your dad stood suddenly and you took a few steps back, flinching. “I don’t want you on the south side of this island ever, Elma, do you understand me?” “Dad, there are people over that need help-” “No! All those people are lazy, useless people who do nothing but drag this island into the mud. They don’t deserve anything from us.” Your eyes began to swim with tears, chest heaving. “How can you say that?” You asked, breathless. “Mom always took care of those people when they needed help.” “Don’t bring up your mother right now.” “She would never have let those people go without light or food.” If you pushed hard enough you might just get him to listen to you. “You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?” Your dad sighed, looking down at the candles. “You’re right,” he said finally. He stepped over them and pulled you into an embrace. “I love that you’re always thinking of other people, Elma. Your mother would be so proud.” Your nose burned, lips trembling. It was hard to say that you missed the woman who abandoned you and Kid with the man that hurt you, but missing your mother felt like a different matter. In your mind, you could sometimes separate them. The woman who gave food the poor for no charge and stepped in between you and your father many times was not the same woman who forced you to get rid of your child and then left alone. When your dad finally let you go, he pressed his lips to your head. You tried to pretend it was a gentle and loving motion, but it didn’t stop your heart from pounding uncomfortably in your chest. “I’ll pack these into the car and take them to the cut. Get your brother up, will you? Start working on cleaning up outside.” “Sure, Dad,” you said, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “I love you, kiddo.” 

“Love you, too, Dad.” 

After helping your dad pack the candles into his car, you spent the next hour attempting to make Kid breakfast before he woke up. There were a few pancakes that you could salvage to take up to him. He was still asleep when you walked upstairs, the stack of pancakes in your hand. Instead of waking him, you left the pancakes on your desk and went back downstairs. 

Stepping outside, you heaved out a heavy sigh. Agatha had really done her damage. 

“Hell hath no fury,” you mumbled to yourself as you bent down to pick up some trash. After another hour, consisting of you picking through the damage and trying to figure out was salvageable, Kid came outside, fully dressed and ready for the day. “What can I do?” He asked, scanning the yard. “Just start by picking up trash, if you could. I think that’s the best place to start,” you said. “Okay.” Kid ran over to you, pulling on your arm, and kissed your cheek. “Thanks for the pancakes.” 

You beamed. 

“No problem, Kid.” He scampered off to get a trash bag. Shaking your head, you turned back to your work. By the time your dad returned, most of the smaller trash had been picked up and larger things that were no longer usable were in another pile. “Hey, Elma!” Your dad said as he climbed out of his car. “Yeah?” You stood up, wiping sweat from your forehead. “I just spoke to Ward Cameron. Do you remember Ms. Lana and Scooter?” Your dad asked, walking over to you with his hands on his hips. You nodded your head, pulling off your work gloves. “Course.” “Well, Scooter hasn’t been seen since yesterday.” “Scooter’s missing?” “Not missing,” your dad said, putting his hands up. “Just...they don’t know where he is. Ms. Lana is going to come over in a bit. I want you to have some food ready for her, make her comfortable, alright? Scooter was a good friend of mine, Elma, don’t mess this up.” No pressure. You walked back into the house and quickly changed out of your sweaty clothes into something cleaner. Heading back downstairs, you wondered what you could make that wouldn’t require cooking anything. Salad and sandwiches made the most sense to you. You could bring some out for Dad and Kid but also keep some inside for you and Ms. Lana. You also put on a pot of water for tea. You pulled the honey out of the cupboard and turned it over in your hands. You had never actually been allergic to honey. It was one of your favorite things, especially in tea. But when you came home after a heavy make-out session at a party that was supposed to be just a small slumber party with red and swollen lips, you had to make something up. Your mom had been mildly allergic to tea, and when she had it in her honey, it made her lips swell in a similar way. Ever since, you had to keep up the lie. Still, you drank honey in your tea when you could sneak it around your dad. You finished the sandwiches and brought two out for your brother and your dad, which they both took gratefully. Just before you went back inside, you saw Ms. Lana pull up in her car. You jogged over to her car as it rolled to a stop. She got out with a weak smile. “Ms. Lana.” “Hello, El, darling.” You pulled Ms. Lana into a hug. “Would you like to come inside? I just finished making lunch and some tea,” you offered. Ms. Lana gave you a watery smile and nodded her head. “Hi, Ms. Lana!” Kid shouted, waving his hand over his head. 

“Hello, Ford,” Ms. Lana replied. A smile pulled at your lips. Kid had been in love with the movie actor Harrison Ford since he was little. He tried to get everyone to call him Ford, wanting to take after his idol, but Ms. Lana was the only one who actually did. Even today, it still made your brother grin. You were glad that Ms. Lana was still somehow able to make your brother happy. “Lana,” your dad said, walking over to her with a sympathetic look in his eyes that almost made you cringe. “Gerald,” she said, shaking his hand. “He’ll turn up,” your dad told her. Ms. Lana sniffed, nodding her head slowly. You reached out and linked your arm in hers. “Let’s get you some food,” you said. Having a conversation with Ms. Lana was always a special treat that you took advantage of when you could. Your dad and Scooter had been friends for a long while, but Ms. Lana and your mother had been even tighter. Whenever your dad said anything about the cut, Ms. Lana and Scooter were always excluded. They weren’t like the “others”. They were civilized. Or so your dad said. 

But Ms. Lana held wisdom that you were always grateful to listen to. She understood you like very few others did. She could hear you screaming even when you said nothing. She didn’t know anything about how your father treated you or the true reason behind your mother’s departure, but she still cared. Sometimes, that was all you needed. Ms. Lana had you laughing after only a few sips of your tea. She was like the sun personified, light and laughter emulating from her with every word, every step. But for the past few months, that light had dimmed. The light she radiated was forced. You could feel it especially now. “How did finals go?” She asked. You smiled behind your teacup. “Ended with all A’s.” “That’s my girl!” Ms. Lana said, giving you a high five. “I know that you were stressed about that math class of yours.” 

“Ugh, yeah, it was tough, but I did it.” “No cheating?” “Do I look like the kind of person who would cheat?” “You are your father’s daughter.” You hated what that insinuated. You took a large gulp of tea, letting the heat scald your throat. “So,” Ms. Lana said, tapping your knee with hers. “Have any boys caught your eye?” You coughed at the sudden question, the tea in your mouth spilling out back into your cup. “I’m sorry?” “I’m going to take that as a yes.” A mischievous smile graced Ms. Lana’s face. It was a real smile, a hint of true light shining through the darkness. You couldn’t take that away from her by shutting her question down. “You have to promise not to say anything to my dad,” you said, leaning forward. “You know how he is about boys.” 

“Oh, a secret affair.” Ms. Lana raised an eyebrow and your face turned red. “I won’t say a word.” “Alright.” You leaned in a little bit closer, afraid of your voice carrying. “There is a boy that I have been sneaking out to see occasionally.” “What’s his name?” “Now, Ms. Lana, that is dangerous information. We could both get in a lot of trouble.” “I see. I understand.” Ms. Lana tapped the side of her nose with her finger. “But I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that he isn’t from this side of the island.” 

Against your attempts to stay completely unphased, your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. When Ms. Lana let out a knowing laugh, you tried to hide your red face in your palms, a laugh of your own escaping your lips. 

“That’s very Romeo and Juliet of you, Miss El,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “I hope it ends better than that,” you said, dropping your hands back into your lap. “Have no fear, my girl, I won’t say a word to your father.” Ms. Lana put a hand over yours. “And if you ever need a cover, you are more than welcome to use my name.” 

You felt yourself smile, eyes watery. You leaned off of your chair, wrapping your arms around the woman’s neck. She startled for a moment, but then put an arm around your back. You tried not to sob into her shoulder right there and then. “I’ve got you, darling,” she whispered. “Thank you.” “What’s going on here?” You pulled away instantly at the sound of your father’s voice. You wiped away a small stray tear as Ms. Lana smiled up at your dad. “I just needed a hug,” Ms. Lana said. “I hope my daughter isn’t keeping you from eating anything,” your dad said, looking at the untouched sandwiches and salad bowls. “Nonsense, Gerald.” Ms. Lana waved her hand through the air. “Spending some girl time with El here was just what I needed to calm my nerves.” “That’s good to hear.” Ms. Lana sent you a knowing look as your father sat down. You tried to hide a smile. She left not much later with the sandwich wrapped in plastic and a tupperware of salad. “Are you sure I can’t give you more?” You asked as you helped her to the car. “Child, you have already done so much for me. This is enough,” Ms. Lana said. “I’ll see you soon, Ms. Lana.” “I’ll see you soon.” Watching her drive away, arms crossed over your stomach, reminded you of the day your mother left. You were used to screaming and dishes being thrown, but the sound of your mother crying in the dead of night? That wasn’t something you had numbed yourself to. Despite everything, you had never seen her cry. She was the strongest woman that you knew. You hadn’t been able to sleep, the pain in your stomach and your heart far too great. You felt disgusted with yourself, your own silent tears running from your eyes. When you heard her sobbing, you sat up, slowly. Your dad had gone to bed hours ago after a long fight with your mom, but you still crept by his room on your way down the stairs. When you got to the dining room, you found your mother fully dressed at the dining table, a suitcase by her side. Her head was in her hands, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. You knew immediately that she was leaving. Tears sprang into your eyes and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “Mom?” She gasped and looked up at you. When she used to look at you, there was always love in her eyes, always a smile on her face, but now there was only one thing in her eyes; disgust. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, voice breaking with every word, tears and makeup running down her cheeks. “I’m your mother! Why didn’t you tell me what he did to you?” The tears in your own eyes started to fall, hands shaking by your side. You were 14. How were you supposed to tell her what your dad had done? “God!” Your mother stood, grabbing the suitcase. “Mom?” You watched her walk right past you, but you felt frozen where you were. “Mom!” She threw open the door and paused for just a moment, taking one last look at you, before walking out. She couldn’t just leave you. Not when you needed her the most. You ran to the door, calling after her. You didn’t hear your father’s door open, didn’t hear him thundering down the stairs after you. All you could think of was stopping your mom from leaving. “Mom!” You screamed after her, running down the porch steps. She was already at her car, throwing her suitcase into the back. “Mom, wait!” She slid into the front seat, slamming the door shut just as you reached it. You pounded on the window, begging her to let you in. But she wouldn’t listen, she just cried and turned the car on. “Mom!” You pleaded, tears and sobs nearly choking you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t leave me!” She pulled the car backward and you jumped away, not wanting to get your toes caught under the tire. You made to run after the car, but before you could get far, your dad grabbed you from behind. 

“She’s gone, kiddo,” your dad whispered in your ear, but it only made you scream louder. “No! No, Mom!” “Come back inside, Elma,” your dad said, pulling you backward. “No!” You reached out for the car, even though it was long gone. You kicked out your feet as your dad hoisted you off the ground, dragging you back toward the house. “MOM!”

***

Returning from the memory was like bursting through the surface of the water. You were in the same place, Ms. Lana’s car retreating through the trees. You tried to smile and offered one last wave before she disappeared completely. It had been three years since your mother left. You tried to pretend it didn’t hurt anymore, but you would still sit on the porch sometimes when you couldn’t sleep, praying that you would see her car pull onto your lawn. It never did. “Elma! Let’s get back to work.” 

***

You sat in bed later that night, tapping mindlessly on your computer. You were writing the same letter you had been writing for three years. You had written it on paper, thrown it away a million times. You had typed it out, deleting it a million times. It didn’t matter how many times you tried, you could not write the letter you wanted to your mother. Kid and your dad had gone to bed early. The day had been long and gruesome, so you didn’t blame them. You were exhausted, but your mind wouldn’t let you sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was your mother’s tear-stained face, her car pulling away from you without so much as a second a thought. Anger crackled at the tips of your fingers. Who the fuck leaves their two, defenseless children with an abusive asshole? Everyone still spoke so highly of her, as if she wasn’t just as bad as your dad. You slammed your laptop shut, but the little burst of anger was enough to trigger a silent outburst. You threw your computer against your beanbag chair, dropping to the floor. You were about to start pounding your fists into the hard wood when you heard a tap on your window. You looked up, eyes overrun with tears to see JJ peering in at you. You sucked in your lower lip, hanging your head for a moment. When he tapped again, you pushed yourself to your feet and pushed the window before dropping into another chair. “What did he do?” JJ asked, hands curled into fists at his side and his jaw tight as he stared at your door. You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. JJ turned to you a knelt down on the ground. “What happened?” The anger was gone from him instantly as he looked at you. You shook your head again, feeling like there were a million rocks weighing you down. Instead of answering, you put one arm around his neck, slowly pulling him in as you slid to the ground. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening until you were kneeling in front of him, both of your arms around his neck. He linked his arms around your back, holding you tight. “What happened?” He asked again. “Babe, you can tell me.” He brushed hair from your face, but you shook your head for the third time, large tears rolling aimlessly from your cheeks. JJ stopped asking you questions, cradling your head as you clung to his shirt. Your breathing shuddered as you tried to calm down. Once the tears stopped flowing like a  river and once you felt like you can breathe normally, you pulled away from JJ, exhausted from all the crying. “Why did you come?” You asked. “I have a bunch to tell you,” he said, lifting your chin. “Today was absolutely bat shit. Plus, we’re having a kegger and I thought you’d want to come.” You tried to smile and met his gaze, your eyes still watery. “I would love to go to a kegger and hear about your bat shit day,” you said.    “Your dad-” “Screw him.” JJ grinned and helped you to your feet. “You can tell me whenever you’re ready,” he said as he led you to the window. You nodded your head once. “Let’s just get drunk, yeah?” “I can do that.” 

Taglist -  @bitterbethany​​ @lovelymaybankk​​ @ilymarkchan​​ @downbytheouterbanks​​ @clearcolourlessglass​​ @obxwriterfan​​ @tangledinsparkles​​ @chill-sushi

[bubbashawn]

Going Home

author: It’s here and it’s kinda short but I’m trucking on with fine line so I’m sacrificing daily long posts for more writing time on the series. It’ll all be worth it (I hope for the sake of my sanity)

synopsis: You and your husband find out you’re one step closer to going home.

warnings: 1.3k of fluff. Lots of tears and a drunk Connor. Brushes over the topic of residency/citizenship but nothing heavy. Unedited (another sacrifice lol)

“Baby,” you shouted into your shared condo with your husband, “can, um can you come in here for a minute?”

“Can I have ten minutes? I’m shaving.”

“Bubba, please.”

Your voice cracked rereading the email still not believing the words. Your teary eyes blurring your vision making you think you’ve had to have read it wrong.

“Honey? Hey, what’s wrong?”

You hadn’t even noticed Shawn rushing into the living room after hearing the emotions in your voice. He still had patches of shaving cream on his chin and he hadn’t even started his sideburns but he’d dropped his razor in the foamy sink to rush to your side. His eyes were scanning your wet ones until you broke away to look down at the illuminated screen in your shaking hand.

“It’s, um i-it’s about the-” your voice was caught in your throat, the emotions putting pressure on your chest.

Shawn quickly placed his hand on your back rubbing against it — making sure the cold metal of his ring was flush against your hot skin. He kept looking at you when your eyes continued scanning the screen rereading the contents. He had his reading glasses on but didn’t dare try to read over your shoulder wanting you to have privacy and time to process what you wanted to say.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, baby,” you turned the screen to him, “read it.”

Your husband slowly took the phone from your hand, they were shaking too much for him to actually comprehend the small lettering of an email. He was mumbling the first few words, eyes skipping along the lines figuring out the email was from your attorney.

“Shawn, o-out loud? Could you read it out loud?”

“Of course, honey,” he smiled sitting, settling into your side, “dear Mr. and Mrs. Mendes, I would like to inform you of some progress made regarding your case and our multiple attempts of getting Y/N Mendes’s Canadian residency.”

His glossed eyes turned to yours looking for the answer.

“Keep reading, Bubba, keep reading.”

“I am reaching out to congratulate you with the date of your interview, exactly one month from today at the Toronto Immigration Center. The documents I have linked will outline the exact details and contracts that need to be printed and signed prior. This is one step closer to your green card.” Shawn read the other formalities but your mind was blocking out his voice.

You were a citizen in Australia and had been living back and forth between your then-boyfriend's condo and your family home across the world. Shawn had met you through Connor Brashier during his fifth world tour and the two of you had maintained long distance for three years before he dropped to one knee.

Both of your passports were full of Canadian and Australian stamps as you went through customs for every visit. You had officially moved to Toronto permanently almost fours years ago before going back home for the last time to tie the knot in your hometown.

You hadn’t been home since.

Shawn took you back to Canada as a married woman and you could finally file a request for residency, being married to a Canadian citizen but that took time. Complications for various reasons were roadblocks between you and your family seeing that one of the requirements was while your request is in process you couldn’t leave the country. No vacations. No Australia.

You hadn’t been with your family in three years.

The email Shawn was currently scanning over again was the last piece to a very complex puzzle. You’d go to your interview where you could be approved and could very well book tickets to Australia the moment your green card came through the mail. You could see your mum and dad. Your friends. Your family dog, who was three years older than the last time you’d seen her furry face.

“Honey, you just got your notice,” Shawn smiled before pulling you into his arms, “I’m so happy for you, baby.”

“This doesn’t feel real. Like we’ve been waiting so long, ohmygod. It really doesn’t feel real”

“It’s really happening.”

“I know,” you were sniffling, “it’s just that I thought it’d never happen.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“It’s been so hard recently. I just, I don’t know.”

“Hey, look at me,” you pulled your head from his neck, “I love you and I’m with you every step of the way.”

Your eyes started tearing up again. Your husband had been your rock these past few years. Through every victory and false hope, Shawn had been by your side to lift you higher or pull you together.

Your hands found his cheeks rubbing your thumb against the soft skin, your nails brushing the frames around his eyes. He leaned into them pushing his face closer to yours. Shawn littered kisses across your face; for love, comfort, reassurance, disbelief. He was proving to you that this, this moment, was real.

“I still can’t believe it. Like, I know it’s real but it’s not fully settled yet, y’know?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m so happy.”

You could feel his smile against your skin. His wedding band cold against your flustered skin, grounding you.

“Yeah? Do you want to do something?” Shawn mumbled into your ponytail, “invite some friends over? Dinner and drinks or something?”

“Can it just be us right now?”

He pulled your body into his lap, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, and his hand pulling your legs around his waist.

“Of course,” he stood, making you giggle in his hold, “I’m going to cuddle you and then love on you and then you’ll fall asleep in my arms, eh?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Always for you.”

It was hours later when you woke up to the sound of your phone blaring. The device ringing as a contact flashed across the screen. You pulled yourself from your husband's tight grip and slipped from the duvet, padding your way across the hardwood before seeing Connor’s name on the screen.

“Bud, do you realize what time it is?”

The clock read two.

“I’m sorry,” his voice slurred.

“Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy, at best.”

“Why’re calling so early?”

You heard him whip open a door and heard muffled voices from who you hoped was Connor’s Uber driver.

“Shawn told me to come over in the morning so we could talk. I settled on calling you and it is the morning.”

“You’re a little more than tipsy.”

“Just tell me, please,” the intoxicated boy was basically whining, “I’m not letting you sleep until you do.”

“I’ve got a date for my interview.”

That sobered him up fast.

“Are you serious?”

You hummed in agreement.

“Christ. Y/N, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you. Come over at some point later for brunch, yeah?”

“That’d be great.”

“Okay then, get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you and can’t wait to hear everything.”

“Love you too, Con.”

You hung up once you were sure his mumbling was done sending one final goodnight before placing your phone back onto the dresser next to Shawn’s prized jewelry box.

Turning back you were shocked to see your bare chested husband sitting up in your shared bed looking lovingly at your distant figure.

“Honey, who was that?”

“Connor,” his eyebrows furrowed, “he was slightly intoxicated and called because it was morning.”

Shawn’s eyes widened in realization as you settled yourself on his lap. He shot you a half guilty half sleepy smile.

“Sorry, that’s my fault. I told him we had news but I really didn’t think he’d call this early.”

“Not your fault. He’s coming over for brunch and I thought we could invite a couple close friends as celebration?”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

“I love you, my Canadian boy.”

He chuckled pulling you down to curl into his side, eyes twinkling with pure happiness because you were happy. Shawn hadn’t seen you this happy or relieved in months.

“I love you, my Australian girl. Or should I say Canadian-Australian girl.”

“I have to say that doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

He smiled at your sleepy chatter before he just stared down at your peaceful features, dozing off to your soft snores muffled into his neck and your slow heartbeat.

permanent taglist: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

[traci0417]

So I had an concept that just exploded in my head & I have to post this somewhere. No idea if this has already been done, but please let me know if it has so I can tag stories like it.

V long post- sorry. I’ll add a ‘read more’ if I can.

[spoliers, trauma, angst, alt trespasser ending, abandonment, found family ect - Youll get it in a min]

•Imagine if the inquisitor was a child. A little slip of an elven girl no more than 12. Who was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Her mother, a scout for her clan who wanted to bring her too curious daughter to see shems In person.

•Cassandras heart cracks at the sight of the kneeling prisoner in the cell. They didn’t even bother restraining her, the chains slipped off her thin wrists any time she moved. She’s a child! A child! Cassandra looks down, and the girl looks up at her with too big, too green bloodshot eyes. The tear stains on her face finally break Cassandras resolve, in the best way she can, she kneels, & as gently as Cassandra can, she asks “What happened?” The girl hiccups, her face crumples into another sob, and in between gasps she tells her all she knows.

•The trek up the mountain is no easy feat on a good day- So nevermind adding holding the hand of a little elf and fighting demons in the mix. But they do well, the girl doesn’t get in the way or scream every time an attack comes to close- then halfway up, the girl picks up a discarded mages staff, “So you are a mage?” The girl looks up at the seeker, cracking the first smile the woman has seen from her ,”With arms like these, I don’t think I’d do too well with a sword.” Cassandra gives a rare chuckle, ”no, I suppose not- are you proficient enough to defend yourself?” The elf stands straighter, “yes ma’am” “Then you must protect yourself well- we still have much to go.” And they continued.

•When Solas sees her- he feels something shoot him through the heart- grief? Remorse? You are only a child, I am so sorry, I have put you on a path that was not meant for you, you survived only for me to set you on the path of death once again. He is so angry, so enraged, it was not enough for Fen’Harel to damn his world, but in order to set it right he has to put a burden too great on a child? There is no atonement for what he means to do- but every time he sees that green glow on too small hands- he truly feels like the monster that this world thinks he is.

•Back at haven, she is getting more life back, her spirits are high despite the odds, She asks too many questions, but no one can deny her. Every time they see her flit about the encampment, smiling and laughing with the soldiers, the blacksmiths, no one knows how they should treat her, the herald, so they treat her as a child. She sits with Lilianna while she is writing messages, asks if she can help, and lilianna gives a gentle smile, because no way the girl can copy down & understand the codes needed, “I think just you being here helps” and the girls smile is filled with such joy that the spymasters heart aches- after she leaves, and goes to ask Jospehine, Cullen, Varrik, Blackwall, Bull & Solas a million questions- they all th ink the same thing after she turns in for the night. A child must bear this burden- we are so sorry for the pain that you must go though- we are so sorry that we cannot help you more, you were not meant for this path, but we will protect you with our lives.

•Despite the odds, she saves everyone. Haven is destroyed, she faced an arch demon, but she lived. The small settlement blooms with newfound hope because the herald is back. Solas holds her hand while she sleeps on the cot, healing magic Long spent, but he cannot bear to leave her, he underestimated her, she sacrificed herself, this little elf barely even 12, had saved them and faced against the abomination- Solas is in awe- he vows to protect her better. The advisers looked to her cot, seeing her sleeping body, tears running down their faces, although no one says anything about it, they’ve never been so relieved. They all vow to protect her better.

•Although the ceremony is symbolic, and the sword is taller than her, she accepted. Did her best to keep the sword steady.- but, naming her inquisitor was something they never wanted to put on her.

in the war room, hours before the ceremony had taken place, Josephine, with teary eyes and a lump in her throat, looks at red faced Cullen & Cassandra, who have been screaming at her for the better part of an hour. (“How could we even consider this!?” “She is a child, she has already done enough for us!” “We cannot possibly put more responsibility on those shoulders!” “Isn’t this needlessly cruel?”) Josephine stands taller, even though she has never felt so small,”I cannot think of a worse thing to do to her- but to name her inquisitor gives us a political edge, if we do not have a clear appointed leader, we will not be taken seriously- and to not name the only one who can close the rifts, the herald of Andraste, the inquisitor- would be political suicide.” “Damn the game!” Cullen bellows, “no amount of coin or favor can be worth what we are putting her though!” Lelianna has stayed silent, but as Cullen finishes his outburst, she clears her throat, and whispers, “we must.” And with that, the fight leaves the advisors, and despair replaces it.

•She loves freely, as only a child can, despite the sorrow. She triumphs, she charms, she is one of the strongest mages Solas has ever seen. She calls him Hahren & he calls her Da’Len. She never strays far from him, and it is clear to all that she loves the apostate & there is little Solas can do but love her just as much. it could just be homesickness on her part- but the attachment that she has formed with the mage, one cannot help but think it is that of what a daughter forms with a father.

•Solas is weak against her, as is everyone, but Solas in particular. Which is ironic considering he tried everything to put up a boundary between them- he knows how this will turn out- but he is helpless against the too curious, too bright eyes. He has infinite patience for her, her constant questions, her empathy, her aptitude for magic all pull at him. No one teases him for it. Although, one day, as he was walking through the courtyard, Iron Bull ran to him, “Solas! You’re daughter is on the roof- mind getting her down before Josephine bas a heart attack?” Solas’ heart flipped, he was not the childs father- the furthest thing, in fact, but he found he did not have it in him to correct the qunari.

•Despite her gentle nature, they have sharpened her into something to be feared. It haunts them, but they did not have a choice. She always helps, always saves, seems to always make the most righteous judgements- but as Adolescent, 13 now- she is growing before their eyes. Sometimes even going on missions alone(she lets Cole come, of course). No one says anything, but they all see how Solas & her circle leave on horses a few hours after she departed because “they need to check on something.”

•At 13, she charms the courts, Halamshiral was a success and Josephine couldn’t be more proud. Solas could nearly see her in the parties in arlathan, His daughter did so beautifully that he knows she would be the most feared, but he Tamps the thought down, it hurts to think about.

•Dorian and Sera love her more than they thought they could love anybody. She teaches them to look beyond themselves. They are her closets friends, and when it all becomes to much for Da’Len, they do their best to make mischief, so she never forgets to have fun as well.

•ever since she was 12, she has called Solas ‘Father’. It is a sweet pang in his heart every time, but he does not stop her. Just like no one stops her when she calls Iron Bull ‘uncle’ or lilianna, “Aunt”. But Skyhold does notice when the spy master is in a particular good mood for weeks, or how uncharacteristically quite Bull is after that.

•She defeats Corypheous, and Solas tells her how proud he is as he holds the broken orb, that he needs to go to do something important. And that he will be back. She begs to come with him, tells him to wait, that she is his daughter and fathers are never supposed to leave, & it is the first time she sees her father cry, she begs him to wait, but when he turns around. He is already gone,

•2 years have passed and she is 15. She is turning into a great beauty and an even greater mage. Her people worship her like a god, despite her protests. Ever since Solas left, Cullen and varrik have taken up the mantle as best they can, though they know it’s not enough, & Josephine teaches her all she knows, then lelianna teaches her how to hide it. They have done there best despite the worst and she knows that, the seeker is her closet to a mother though, with all of her harshness, she would do anything for the growing elf.

•The exalted council flurries past, she saves everyone yet again, but she is dying, and Da’len knows it. Her anchor is melting down and she tells everyone that she loves them- that she had the greatest family, that she was so grateful to help. She goes through the eluvian alone, leaving her patched up family screaming and crying behind her, to do this one last thing

•Fen’Harel was not prepared. He did not account for how much it would devastate him to see his daughter again. Hunched over in pain, the anchor killing her and oh maker it’s all his fault- but she still looks up at him, her face older, more wise, beautiful, she smiles a bloody smile, “Father, I‘ve missed you so much .”

•Fen’harel swallows down a sob, kneels before her, calms the anchor slightly, “My daughter, I suspect you have questions.”

•she lunges for him, wrapping her arms around his neck in the first hug he’s had since before he left her, “Father, I’ll never ask another question again if it means I can come with you.” He never heard her beg for anything, but she’s begging now. “Let me stay with you, Please never leave, not you, not again.”

•Fen’Harel was always weak when it came to his Da’Len. He carries his daughter through the eluvian, and together they’ll try to build a better future, for everyone.