#we have to make them close as children to make them ABSOLUTELY DISTRAUGHT AS ADULTS

[uefb]

Specifically writing the missing 1k words to get me to the next chapter for the person who added my fic to their —

list.

Because y’all —

I WILL NEVER GIVE UP ON TEEN!THESEUS & BB!NEWT. The absolute audacity to suggest it🥺😭😭

I love them your honor

[lovelykhaleesiii]

More than a Friend

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Adult!Bill Denbrough x fem!Reader

Words: 1228

Summary: Inseparable in the past during your time in the Losers Club, you find yourself years later in Derry the same town you eagerly fled... Now reunited with close friends and an old flame. 

Warnings: pure fucking fluff 

A/N - as if no one saw this one coming HA... Happy to say I’m back and plan to make imagines more of a regular thing. Taking requests for this man and Tom Holland characters :) (I’m discontinuing previous imagines so don't ask for new chapters sorry x)

Receiving the call from Mike Hanlon was something you’d been dreading in your distant memory, and had sudden sinking feeling upon hearing his voice. 

As Mike explained the details of the recent happenings in your hometown Derry, the memories of your childhood jolted back into your mind as you pictured the Losers Club. In addition to Mike, there was Eddie, Richie, Ben, Beverley and Bill… 

Bill, you whispered… Your once partner in crime and longtime childhood friend. Besides Beverly being the closest friend you had in the group, both Bill and you shared this bond that was to some degree, absent with the rest. 

He understood you in ways the others lacked. You found that he was much more mature than most boys his age. 

In return, he relied on you for sole support, especially after the disappearance of Georgie.

The memories began to flood your mind: you were the one that would often visit Bill on days he didn’t expect to see anyone. It was you that made him laugh and smile amid the times he thought that would be the last thing he’d achieve. You genuinely made him happy, as he did for you. 

As the call ended, you knew there was no choice however to uphold the vow you had all made 27 years ago. You were just hoping that same old Bill would uphold his end… 

Returning to Derry sent shivers through your body the moment you drove in. As the minutes went by, slowly your memory began to piece itself together like a puzzle… The more the memories you shared with Bill began to fill your mind, feeling a small sense of excitement despite the unfortunate reason for your return. 

Walking into the diner where Mike had made reservations for the inevitable reunion, and being directed towards a group of strange adults, you were the last to arrive. 

Everyone made their way towards you, ecstatic that you’d managed to make it. 

First Beverly rushed to your side, embracing you in her arms, the next was Eddie who still seemed quite anxious meeting you despite being to hell and back with him. Then Richie followed, cracking a joke on how much of a gorgeous woman you’d grown into from the tomboy  he had envisioned. Mike was relieved the most to see you, grateful you upheld the promise… And of course, Bill. 

He stood in the back, as he watched you approaching them from afar. He seemed shocked to say the least, however he had changed himself, he was a man now. Yet his mesmerising blue eyes, still fed that familiarity. 

“Y-Y/N, God. You-You’ve grown… I-I’m really glad y-you came.” He breathlessly stuttered: and just then it had clicked that Bill did stutter as a child, however that never phased you before nor did it now. 

“Likewise… You look good, Bill.” 

For a brief moment you both just stood still and stared mesmerised in the presence of one another. You both were taking in each other’s friendly gaze, smiling brightly up at each other, as he firmly held you in what was initially a friendly hug. 

“Uhh-You guys good over there?” Richie exclaimed, breaking the intimate silence between you two. 

Seating yourselves, despite sitting apart you’d caught glances of Bill watching you as you’d watch him. 

You had to admit to yourself, Bill was as handsome as ever. He’d obviously grown in height and size, he was quite muscular and well-groomed. He’d grown into his features, and yet he didn’t feel at all like a complete stranger. 

And amongst Beverly and yourself, after having noticed your tendencies to stop and stare at Bill, even she agreed that Bill had aged finely. 

Amongst the long-overdue conversations during dinner, you’d realised that you hadn’t really been separated from Bill all along. 

“Those were all my books… I-I can’t believe y-you read them without kn-knowing-”

As you caught up in each others life-stories, you hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him, all these years apart. 

As the haunting events of Pennywise unfolded, Bill being the same leader he was naturally matured to be, was protective… Especially over you. 

He absolutely hated seeing you frightened, sad, or distraught, and would want you to confide in him always. As children, he was there even when you didn’t realise you needed that shoulder to cry on, and despite the distance of growing up apart, he was still there to guard you. 

Throughout this unwanted adventure, it seemed Bill and you would always find your way back to one another. If he was in trouble, you were there, vice versa.

At one point you’d found yourself sitting on the curb alongside Bill, after finding your token (which btw is a sketch Bill drew of you, that you’d kept in the clubhouse) facing the building he’d once called home. You knew how difficult it was for him to be there, the unforgettable tragedy of Georgie was something Bill just could not escape and you’d helped him come to terms with that. 

“Y-You were always th-there for me, Y/N. I never s-said anything b-before but, you really did h-have a special p-place in m-my heart.” 

“I’m just sorry I didn’t stick around, Bill… No one should ever go through what you went through with Georgie,” You softly responded, instinctively caressing his broad back, feeling his muscles relax under your touch. 

“I-I should’ve though… I-I wanted to after y-you left, Y/N. Y-You were m-more than just a friend b-but I was too late.” 

Without even having to explain himself further, you knew. You knew exactly what Bill meant and where this conversation was going… You’d felt the same. In fact, you were devastated when you’d left. 

Having been caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t realised Bill gradually closing in on you, as you felt his hand against your cheek, your lips locking into a passionate kiss. 

“That was truly overdue-” You joked, smiling childishly at one another, as he helped you up effortlessly, not wanting to keep the others wondering and waiting. 

Returning to the Neibolt House, you’d noticed that Bill kept a close eye on you, making sure he was always in lead of you, as means of taking precautions. He hated the fact that you with the rest of the gang had accompanied him. 

Once you’d reached the sewers beneath Derry, in the place Pennywise had inhabited, you did however get separated from one another and it killed Bill. 

Each in your own nightmares, he was desperate to escape. 

Once again reuniting, he made sure he was in close proximity of you. 

Having finally defeated Pennywise (Eddie still alive), you’d never felt this deep sense of relief before, as you both were now free to be in each other’s company. 

Everyone knew and was expecting you two to come to terms with your feelings, accepting the mutual love that was there. 

“We’ve been knew guys, we knew it from the moment you’d first started walking each other home from school!” Richie exclaimed, sighing with relief as if he was the ultimate matchmaker. 

This time leaving Derry wasn’t so despairing, for you were not alone… Bill was and will now always be by your side, no matter what you’d face. 

[dontbesoevil]

Let’s talk about the dinner scene (and the entire latter half of ep 9)

Can we talk about That Scene? The dinner scene? (and the aftermath) When I started watching this show, I knew there would be meta, but I didn’t expect for it to be so real! Man I haven’t felt so attacked in my core by how real a storyline was since watching Gaya sa Pelikula (I don’t think I’ll talk about it more here, but if you feel like reading my thoughts on this show, I wrote a 1900-word review on MDL about it). I think every single queer person has experienced or fears that they will experience a scene such as the one that Gene and Nubsib experience. It is something that shakes you to your core even if you know it is coming.

I’m putting a readmore because this got a bit too long

It is so important to me that Gene and Nubsib talked about it before and that Nubsib said to Gene that he would 100% support him, that he did not have to do it, and that regardless of what happened, he would continue to support him all the way. Because they both knew that the battle would be difficult and I think they might not have gone with it if they hadn’t had that talk before. But they did. And then That Scene started.

Not gonna lie, I had to stop watching that scene and I had to take a break because I was shaking and it triggered me and brought me some bad memories. I am lucky that I have the most accepting mum ever, but I have been in situations where I felt like I had to hide and was just a shell reacting and observing every single details of everyone’s behaviour because if I were to step outside the lines they would know and I would be thrown to the lions. If anyone had to go through this, especially for an extended period of time, they know how traumatising an experience it can be (i.e. as opposed to remarks which is also traumatising, but more in a micro-aggression type of way). The incident I am talking about was 6 years ago and although I am mostly over it, it has scarred my relationship with some people and groups probably forever.

This scene was so powerful because of how well it was done. @jiminisverynofun said it better than I would when it comes to the mothers in that scene and the next, but I am so glad they are tackling the fetishisation of mlm relationships by straight women and the very real impact it has when it is only objectification and not any kind of real support.

Something else that I also see in the reactions of the others around the table is the brothers. In the previous episodes, we have seen them be somewhat supportive of the whole thing (although not necessarily in the best way) and here when seeing their parents act in such homophobic ways, they not only not say anything and go along, but they even go further and say really homophobic words, all the while knowing about their brothers. They redeemed themselves (at least Jab, but I’m assuming Sib’s brother’s too) afterwards by defending their brothers when it was just them. But the fact is that they also played along with the homophobia. They did the reverse of what the mothers did. The mothers were okay as long as it was a fiction and then were distraught when it turned out to be real. But the brothers both said homophobic things about gay people in general even if they support their brothers individually. It felt a bit too much like those people who shout against immigrants being the worst, but telling their immigrant neighbour: “oh but not you because you are a good one.” I get that it is hard to get in front of your parents, truly I get it, but I feel like they still went too far the other way, either because of fear or because they truly think that (in which case, boys, start working on your homophobia because you are the only allies your brothers have in the family and they don’t deserve shitty allies).

And then the dads. I am mainly going to be talking about Gene’s dad because we haven’t seen too much of Nubsib’s dad and the preview made it seem like we’ll see more of his pov next time (but I feel like a lot of the same things are applicable to him). I spent the entire scene (and the ones after) wanting to deck him and I wrote so many “fuck you” and other sentences where I was not very polite towards him in the chat because he made me absolutely furious. I was like *surprised Pikachu* when Gene said that he’d dated guys before he dated his mum. I don’t whether he’s gay or bi and honestly at this point I do not give a single shit because he went too far and his internalised homophobia is no excuse for the constant abuse and homophobia he has thrown at his son for years. Nothing could excuse it and even if he comes to realise the error of his ways, he’ll need to do way more than just say sorry for me to be okay with him coming anywhere close to Gene (I need someone to make me a Gene protection squad banner). I am so glad that Gene, soft spoken Gene, confronted him and did not let him go. That scene was directed like a theatre scene. When I started the scene, it jumped at me! The mum at the window, the brother at the table, and the dad on the couch. And Gene just kept talking at the dad who was cornered on all sides. Regardless of the other two characters who still have (more or less) atoning to do, I’m expecting the brother to be helpful by next episode and the mum by the end of the show, the one who needs to be worked upon is the dad. I know it, you know it, Gene knows it. And this is why he is not letting go. His dad has always been treating him as a child (I think it is him who says they are just children when at dinner, but I cannot remember and I am not strong enough to go and rewatch it) and he doesn’t want to have this conversation so he just tells his son to “go to his room” (i can’t remember exactly how old he is, but it’s something like 27, so his son who’s been an adult for 10 years and presumably was already pretty autonomous before because his dad had sent him to boarding school because of the GayTM). I am so happy for Gene standing up for himself. I am so happy for Gene telling him that he is gay and using those words when you could see only a few scenes before that he wasn’t completely there yet (did I pause at that point to cry? Yes, yes I did). Gosh I am so proud of Gene!

But going back to the dinner scene proper and what I was talking about re: Nubsib and Gene talking before and knowing what the other wants (they both want to come out and Gene says explicitly to Nubsib that he doesn’t want to hide anymore (and he knows his dad so he knows that he will probably react as he reacted). And then you have That conversation and you can see the two of them looking at each other (gosh the number of silent conversations they’ve had this episode, I want what they have!). And like as hard as it is, they have each other. And then you have Gene starting to come out by asking a question “and what if it’s true?” (this feels way too real and I relate way too much because talking explicitly about things like that is way too hard so you find a way around it, you wait for the others to say something that you can react to while not saying explicitly what you want to say) And then Nubsib sees this, understands it for what it is and goes for it because he is way more sure of himself and secure in his identity. And they have each other, they look at each other, they hold hand (talking about Gaya sa Pelikula, this very much reminded me of the hand holding between Vlad and Karl duing That dinner scene too). I am so happy that they have each other and that Gene can use Nubsib to help. I relate a lot to Gene and it is easier to talk about your relationship to someone than what it means, but once you’ve talked about the one, it’s easier to talk about the other.

This scene was given all of the space that it needed. I am so glad that they decided that time didn’t matter and that they could give us a 1h27 episode because I did not feel like something was missing, but I also did not feel like something was unnecessary about that whole section (or any of the ones before because you can really see the development of their relationship (not that I don’t have any gripes with some of the lines and story choices, but this is not the place). I’ll probably finish this and be like “oh no, I forgot to talk about this”, but I’ve already gone and written 1500 words so I should probably stop.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 18

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

NOT having to wait a year for another update?! WHO AM I?!?!! A new woman I tell you. Fortunately (or not) Frat Harry’s the same ‘ol Frat Harry. And this time you let him into your life a little more. But will he stay? Enjoy loves, lemme know what you think ;) 

“So turns out Mike’s bottle of tequila was $350 and John and I had already dank all of it. When Mike told us how much it was, we just had to be the full dicks. You start apologizing at block parties and you lose your edge. Stuff is borderline evaporative!” Father looked around at our unimpressed faces and his red face grew darker, exploding from wheezing laughter. “Oh, come on! It’s funny!!” His wheezing subsided with a toss of his eyebrows. He shrugged dramatically. “Good thing I appreciate my humor.” 

 Paul sat at the head of the table, the top two buttons undone on his blue business button-down. He made eye contact with me, both of our eyes widening. I’d given him a quick side-hug, one of those awkward lean-down-because-the-other-person-is-too-lazy-to-stand-up hug. It’d almost been a year, but it was the same customary greeting we’d developed. Their plates were already stacked in the sink, but my mom had readied plates of mash potatoes, string beans, and steak for Harry and I. 

 They were sprawled out, tummies full, all of them looking like they’d had long days at the office. Father especially. His face was reddened like the whites of his eyes, his hair standing on end. 

 I poked at my steak. 

 “You missed it, Y/N. He’s already five glasses in,” Paul continued. Teasing father was the one thing we could connect on - but he enjoyed it a little more than I. 

 Mom leant over the table, rolling her eyes. “At least. This is his ‘not drinking during the week,’” There was a smile, though.

 Dad held up his hands. “Hey! I haven’t had one sip of tequila. Wine is like water now.” He turned to Harry, as if his frat boy radar sensed a fellow drinker in his midst. “You have that problem…?” He fished for a name. 

 Harry’s shoulders straightened. “Harry.”

 “Harry?” he asked. 

 Before Harry could answer, Paul’s eyes narrowed. “You look familiar.” 

 It was like somebody sprinkled coked-out fairy dust over Mother. She sat up straighter, eyes twinkling, and sprawled her hands on the table as if to reveal the grand hurrah that Harry was the heir to all the land. Which, in modern day Newport, perhaps he was. I tried to come up with something to rescue Harry, but she beat me to it. 

 “His dad’s a doctor here. Coast Shores Medicine. Mr. Styles runs his own practice.” 

 “He can speak for himself,” I grumbled, stuffing my mouth with mash. 

 My mom stirred, voice low, “Honey, I was just letting them know.” 

 My dad’s eyes bulged out of his head before erupting into laughter. “You- you’re-” He pointed his finger, looking between Harry and me. He laughed more. 

 “Dad,” I warned. It’d clicked in his mind. At the end of summer, before I’d even known the Styles legacy let alone seen Harry’s face, we’d walked past the Styles medical office and my dad absolutely BLASTED their ostentatious display. My dad’s boisterous - Can you believe this idiot??! MORON! DIPSHIT! - blared in my mind like a flare gun. 

 Father caught my daggers. “Oh, relax,” he wheezed, settling down. He wouldn’t say anything, for now. “I transferred more money into your account today by the way.” He winked, pointing to me. “I love you.”

 “Love you too.” But I shrunk in my chair. I know Harry wasn’t one to talk about living off family money, but I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea either.

 Completely oblivious, Harry smiled politely, answering Father’s previous question. “We all have our vices.” 

 “Speaking of addicts-” Paul started.

 “Oh, God,” Dad huffed.

 Paul put his hands up with a humorless laugh. “I wasn’t targeting you, but now that you mention it-” 

 “Paul.” I frowned. 

 My warning tone flipped a switch in him. 

 “What?!” It was sharp, full of irritation, and no matter how long it'd been since I’d heard it - I stilled. His eyes challenged me to press him further, but I didn’t. “Can I speak?” 

 “All right,” mom said. “Let’s settle down.”

 “I’m calm,” Paul declared tersely. “I don’t know about your daughter.” 

 I scoffed, fighting the urge to bite back. 

 Harry tensed, and if I was an inch further I wouldn’t have heard his breath get a little deeper. 

 Without breaking his stare, Paul sat back in his chair, pushing up his sleeves. “Okay,” he started. “As I was saying. I don’t know if you guys saw on the news - probably not, but there was a scandal at the company last week.” 

 The company – AKA Rich Silvang Industries. Paul went straight from college and his internship to full-fledged Wall Street investment banking. He was only three years older than me, but he hadn’t lived at the house since he was eighteen. By 17 ½ all his things were in boxes. Meanwhile, I was almost twenty-one and still had half my things in my old room.  

 Mom practically gasped. “Really?” her voice swam with concern. 

 “I think I saw something about that,” Dad mentioned, putting on a serious tone. 

 “Maybe you did hear about it, then. It’s pretty big. The president was caught in his Vegas penthouse suite filled with drugs, and they arrested him for drug trafficking. They’re searching for someone to replace him right now.” 

 My mom’s hands dropped in her lap. “Wow.”

 “Could you be the replacement?” I asked.

 “Ha, yeah. I wish. I’m a few years off from that.” One thing you need to know about Paul - he has a plan for everything. If he wants something, he’ll buy every book to learn the ins and outs before making a move. His career was no different. 

 “What’d they find?” Harry asked, brows stitched in curiosity. 

 Paul puffed out a breath. “Everything. Heroine, cocaine, meth, ecstasy. It was just sitting there, in his suite. His girlfriend’s arrested, too.”

 “God, what a dipshit,” Dad breathed, irritated disbelief. “This guy has all the money in the world-”

 “Three thousand million dollars,” Paul corrected. 

 “Three tHOUSAND MILLION-!” Father squeaked. “God, if I had that money- GOD, why the hell would you piss it away like that.” 

 “Greed,” Mom said. “Is this the same president who donated all that money to helping foster children? The one invited you for a weekend in Aspen?” 

 “There’s only one president, mom.” 

 “Well I hope you didn’t USE anything.”

 Father ran his hands through his hair, still distraught at the impotence of those with money to enjoy their money. “I mean, I’d be fishing on an island somewhere.” 

 “On YOUR island that you BOUGHT,” Paul pitched in. 

 “With three thousand million,” I breathed. “If someone has everything in the world…” my voice trailed. Human nature was a mystery to me. A complete and utter mystery sometimes. Why get involved in drug trading when you had more than you could possibly need. You could fish off your personal island and then declare that island it’s own country if you wanted to. You could give hundreds of thousands of people access to clean water! Education! Tampons!! Essential things!!!

 Harry suddenly rested his hand on my thigh beneath the table, completely silent. My mom caught the action, a knowing smirk appearing on her lips. 

 “Money is wasted,” Father sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his belly. “Oh!! Speaking of, I have an important question for you.” 

 It took me a second to realize he was looking at me. “Yeah?” I asked, skeptical.

 “Can you grab me another bottle of red?” 

 ----

 The hot water ran over dishes clattering in the sink, and I winced, but I didn’t pull away. I could still feel the crusted blood beneath my nails.

 “Quick, somebody grab a camera.” 

 Father stood in the entranceway to the kitchen, hands up, mouth open in a ridiculous pressed circle like an orangutan. “Y/N’s doing the dishes!!” 

 “Haha. Very funny.” 

 Father sighed, running his hands over his face with a tired smile. “God that was a tiresome dinner, huh.” He tossed the empty wine bottle from hand to hand. 

 My eyes widened. “Yeahhhh.” 

 Harry, Paul, and Mother were still by the table, talking on some new financial law. I timed an escape perfectly. So had Father. 

 “Are you staying the night?”

 “Hm.” I hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe.” 

 “Is he spending the night?” 

 I smiled, not sure what he was going to say to a boy spending the night. The situation certainly hadn’t come up before. “I don’t think so.” 

 “I mean, I don’t care. You’re an adult, you can do what you want. Mom might not like the idea.” 

 In any other case, I’d agree. But this was the Styles boy. I think she’d make an exception. As if knowing where my mind was heading, his blue eyes suddenly twinkled with something mischievous. He finished his thought out loud. “Styles, huh... Isn’t that funny. Where’d you meet this kid?” 

 “English class. Small world, huh?” 

 “For how small it is we don’t see Paul too much, do we?” he asked. It was a more serious question than I was used to. One that didn’t need to be answered. 

 My hand suddenly came too close to the metal faucet, burning it, and I quickly turned it off, moving the dishes to the drying rack. An old Patsy Cline song crackled through the old radio in the kitchen. 

 “I don’t see too much of-” you either. But the words died on my lips when I saw Father’s notoriously clear eyes, wet with springing tears. I stood, shocked, not quite knowing what to say. I couldn’t be mad at him. Not for money, not for drinking. Maybe it was the wine getting him emotional. 

 He gave me one of those dad smiles, patting my shoulder. He hugged me, a proper hug, and I stood, stiff, before relaxing, letting myself be held. I hugged him back, feeling like I was six and he’d just told me he was going away for business. “Let’s go to the shake shack soon,” he said, softly, the slight jokey tone trying to reappear. “S’been a while.” 

 Guilt pricked me. Guilt for growing up, guilt for leaving, guilt for something I couldn’t name. “Course, papa.”

 Over his shoulder, I met Harry’s gaze from the kitchen table.

 Later at the door, we stood telling Paul goodbye. 

 Harry stood behind me in a protective stance while Paul adjusted his briefcase. “So what are your plans for the rest of the year? Are you going to add that extra class next semester, finish early?” he asked, the business-technical tone coming back in his voice. 

 “I’m going to finish my internship at the practice.” 

 “Good. Good. Then what?” Only half-joking.

 “I don’t know, I have another year to figure it out. Go to med school, probably.” 

 “Probably?!” He knocked on the door as he started to leave. “Time flies! Better figure it out, Y/N.”

 I smiled, the only thing I could do.

 “At least you’re going into something employable!” he called. The car beeped behind him, and he loaded his briefcase in the car.

 I smiled tighter.

 “She’ll be fine, Paul,” Mother waved behind me.

 He waved back. 

 “Wait!” Mom called. “You’re not going to give us a hug goodbye?” 

 He jogged back up the side-yard to the door, giving them hugs. Harry a handshake. Me, a side-hug. 

 “Will we see you soon?” I asked.

 “Why?” 

 “Thanksgiving.” 

 His brows rose. “Mom didn’t tell you?” 

 I shook my head.

 “This was our Thanksgiving. I leave for Japan next Wednesday.”

 “What?” I knew for a fact Thanksgiving was two weeks out. 

 “Honey..” she scolded. To Paul, “I told her we were going to do it early, she just doesn’t listen.” 

 “I’ll be back after Japan.” He exchanged a look with my father I couldn’t quite decipher. 

 Some vague memory of Mother telling me about an early Thanksgiving was there, buried beneath sororities, and gangs, and policemen questioning me. And beneath a thick layer of pig’s blood. 

 “Sorry, I forgot.”  

 But he was already in his car, closing the door behind him. 

 We stayed until the headlights disappeared, a sharp wind bellowing in and shaking the curtains. Harry didn’t stay to watch Paul leave. When my parents left for their room, I found him by the painted green wood table, picking at the edge.

 “This is from my fourth birthday.” I pointed to a dark circle on the edge of the table. “I ate my cake so fast, the candles knocked over and almost put the whole house in flames.” 

 “You didn’t blow them out?” 

 “There was cake. I didn’t see the candles.” 

 He smiled. “You’ve lived here a long time?” 

 “Since I was born.” 

 “Not bad.” 

 I led him wordlessly through my past, going through the 70s living room over plush stained carpet, down the hallway past family photos. It was a wordless tour. He stopped in front of a gold frame. It was all of us, on the beach in white. Paul and I had our arms around each other, laughing with gaps where our baby teeth had fallen out and the new ones had yet to come in. Our parents stood behind us, trying to wrestle us in their own arms, wind-whipped hair covering half my mother’s face. Taken seconds before we all fell over and Paul kneed me in the jewels, Father liked to say. 

 Harry caught himself staring, easily catching up with me in the short distance to my room. 

 “The grand reveal,” he murmured. 

 I was suddenly nervous. He followed close behind, entering a space of Frank Sinatra and Elvis posters. My old white wire bed frame stood in the middle of the small space, Winnie the Pooh sheets and mismatched purple pillows on top. The rest was taken up by a large pink bean bag that touched the foot of my bed and the mirrored closet with a European travel collage I’d taped together in its bottom-right corner when I was sixteen.  

 He looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to my ceiling, oddly reminiscent of his sister’s old nursery room. “It’s cute,” he finally said. And somehow when he said it, it didn’t sound condescending. 

 He approached the near-empty bookshelf against the wall, now holding my mom’s arts and crafts and random junk bins. Ever since I moved out, more of her had moved in. She still left the walls untouched, though. Harry plucked at a photo booth strip I’d taped to the walls when I was thirteen. The summer after middle school. Matt and I were smiling, tongues out, sticking up our noses, pretending to strangle each other… 

 He tried to tape it back, but the tape had lost its stick.

 “It’s fine,” I said, taking the photo back. I propped it up against the bins. 

 “Do you have most of your books at the dorm? 

 “Yeah. The rest we sold a while back.” 

 “Spring cleaning?” 

 “Kind of??” I wrestled with whether to tell him the slightly more complicated truth. I’d hesitated too long though, and just came out with it. “Actually no, not really.” 

 He raised his brow, looking at my lips, waiting for me to digress. For some reason, I didn’t care if he knew. Maybe because I knew he had secrets, too. Even if he wouldn’t tell.

 “When we were younger… about four years ago now? It was a really rough time, financially.” 

 Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t move. I continued, “We had to get rid of a lot of things to afford the lease.”

 “You guys have been leasing this same house?” 

 I nodded. “It’s a lease-to-buy option. So maybe, one day…” I let my voice trail off. Maybe we’d own it. A potential dream, pretty impossible on paper. “It’s an old lady who owns this house, really sweet. She rents the house to us for a lot less than she could. I think it’s because she doesn’t want somebody else to buy it and tear it down, and she liked our family, too. She grew up here.”  

 He dusted the spine of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. “That’s one of the few I kept. Cliché, I know, but…” -I shrugged- “Who doesn’t love Mr. Darcy, right?”

 He turned, a softness in his eyes. 

 “We had to sell a lot in the house to make the payment on-time. She’s sweet and has the final say-so, but her family essentially runs her finances. They’re not so sweet.” 

 “You had to sell your books?” 

 “They were nice. Rare. My Grandpa picked them up for me in antique bookshops he’d visit when he’d travel. People sell a lot more than that to make it… like their bodies, their souuulllll.” 

 “Y/N,” he scoffed. 

 “What?” I sat at the foot of my bed, watching a once-again awkward Harry not quite what to do with his body. “It’s better now! A lot better than what it was. We still live here,” I shrug. 

 “Why don’t you live somewhere else?” 

 He didn’t say what he was thinking. Some place we could afford. 

 “My dad needs to live by the water. It’s his lifeline.” I paused. “That, and wine. If he works this hard and dies tomorrow, he wants to at least enjoy it.” 

 “Your brother…-” 

 “Wasn’t always an ass.” I smiled. 

 “I wasn’t going to say that.” 

 “I know.” I lay down, closing my eyes. I sensed him move towards my feet. “I don’t think he’s ever forgiven my dad,” I admitted. I didn’t say what for, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, the words I’d wondered about for years, I regretted it. That was too personal to share, even to Harry. With the tact of someone who learned not to speak about his past, he noticed. He didn’t bat an eye, didn’t press, just silently accepted. He moved his hands along the only other Austen cover I had. Sense and Sensibility.

 “You know…” he started, voice delicate as silk. “Austen’s dad went to a publisher on her behalf without even telling her.”

 “Really?” 

 He nodded. “He got declined, but- still. He did everything he could to help her succeed with her work, with her dreams.” 

 “Where are you going with this Shakespeare.” 

 “I can see that in your dad. He really loves you.” 

 I propped myself up on my elbows. “You know, for a boy who’s supposedly failing his classes, you’re pretty smart.”

 “Y/N,” he laughed lightly, settling in a strong gaze. “I was never failing.”

 The room stilled. “What do you mean?” 

 “You know what I mean.” He gently nudged my legs over, settling in beside me. I turned on my side, the Austen book cradled in the nicest hands I’d ever seen. “I didn’t know how else to get you alone,” he admitted, a quiet confession. 

 “Josiah de Saude didn’t know how to talk to a girl.” 

 “Oh, come off it,” he laughed, my favorite shiny laugh. And suddenly I was grinning, too. “I used to know what to say.” His eyes ran over my face, lingering on my mouth. “But then you came along, Y/N,” he admitted. His smile faded.

 With a strong gust of wind, the brush outside thwacked against my window. I jumped. It was always eerie, no matter how old I got. Inside, we had blankets, childhood memorabilia plastered to my walls, the steady thrum of a heater that’d just come out of summer hibernation. The outside wasn’t as calm as it was here. Here, in this mix of childhood and whatever it was that made my heart beat wild, we were safe. If only for a little while.

 I almost forgot Harry was next to me before the back of his hand brushed my leg. His fingers stroked my thigh, the skin beneath him tingling. A simple touch was all it took, and suddenly each cell of my body was on high alert, informing me, fairly quickly, that he didn’t let his hands wander. Did he want them to? 

 “They’re coming after me now,” I said, when it was clear he wasn’t trying anything. His eyes were closed, but his nostrils flared when I spoke. The hickey he’d given me was still there, carefully hidden by pounds of coverup. My fingers memorized its spot. It seemed to burn anew, reminding me of its place as its giver’s face shadowed.

 It needed to be said.

 Maybe my paranoia wasn’t just paranoia. Maybe it was my sixth sense. A warning. Maybe they really had been watching me. Maybe they’d memorized his mark, too. I remembered Harry shouting at me before disappearing on the field. If they fuck with you, they fuck with me. Was I just a walking target? 

 “They won’t get to you.” 

 “They could’ve.”

 “They aren’t dumb enough to do something like that,” he glowered.

 “Something like what?” 

 Words stalled at the curve of his lips. 

 “Something like what,” I repeated, slightly panicking. What had these people done before? Wouldn’t be dumb enough to rape me? Kill me? Hadn’t they come close enough?? His chest rose with a deep breath. “Tonight wasn’t a mistake,” I whispered.

 “You’re right, it wasn’t.” 

 “Well then what do they want? Because if it’s money they’re barking up the wrong tree.” I propped myself on an elbow, silently begging him to open his eyes. He did, hand running gently up my spine. “Do you even know?” I asked, suddenly horrified that he might be as in the dark as me.

 He swallowed, hooded eyes darkening. 

 “They want what I have,” he said. “And they’ll threaten me in any way they can until they get it. They’ll fish out any weakness. And then they’ll exploit it.” His voice softened at weakness. 

 Money, then. They wanted money. Unless… unless his weakness was me? I shook the thought away.

 “Why can’t you tell the police? Why can’t you just… tell them what’s going on?” I was becoming the girl I hated in movies. The girl that as soon as something horrific happened, she made an awful decision to try and solve it herself instead of CALLING THE DAMN COPS. Which is what I yelled at the screen, every time. CALL THE DAMN COPS. Which is what my brain was yelling at me, every day. CALL THE DAMN COPS. Neither of us listened. 

 “It’s more complicated than that,” he brushed off. 

 “Does this have to do with your ‘association’ with them?” 

 His voice turned sharp.  “That’s enough with the questions.” A horrific tremble rippled up my spine. The tone, so harsh and authoritative, just like my brother’s, made my skin crawl. He looked at me, sighing. “Please, just trust me on this. The less you know the better.” 

 “It’s a little hard to trust you when you’re the reason I’m a target.” 

 My words lingered for a horrible moment. A long, drawn-out silence. I could practically feel them dissolve into Harry’s skin before he sat up, leaping to his feet.

 I panicked. “I mean, it’s just hard to trust anyone when there’s so much that could happen. Things I don’t even know that could happen to me. Or even my family.” He scratched his collar, looking at our reflection in the mirror. My body scrambled upright, tearing itself from the blankets. “I don’t know what these guys are capable of. If you could just tell me, maybe-”

 “I should go.” 

 “No, Harry- wait!” 

 He stalled at the door. I met him there, tugging at his sweater sleeve. He’d looked so lovely in my room, in a different part of my life he’d only just entered. And now to see him leave my safe place so suddenly hurt me deeper than I thought it would. He turned, begrudgingly. The green ivy of his eyes had cooled, hardened, becoming impenetrable. 

 “Don’t leave. Please. You can’t keep coming and leaving, it’s more than confusing, it’s… it’s completely maddening!” 

 He leaned his head back against the door, practically groaning, but pinched the bridge of his nose instead. He took several levelled breaths. Finally, “You think I want this?” 

 I stilled. “Want what?”

 The horrifying possibility that “this” referenced us, petrified me. But the insecurity that he didn’t want me vanished when he looked traitorously at my waist, strong hands following suit. They gripped my sides, tugging me lightly forward. Suddenly I was drunk off the thought of them pushing me further, enough to make me dizzy... but they didn’t push. Strong hands kept me a safe distance apart, at any second looking like they could pull me into him or push me away. 

 “I want so many things, Y/N,” he breathed. “But all of them seem to do with you. And I don’t-” He seemed frustrated with himself as his brows stitched, trying to find the words. “I don’t know how to handle this. Everything’s so entangled.” 

 A knock at my door made us both jump. It creaked open, Mother poking her head in with a wide smile.

 “I heard it was a good game tonight,” she half-whispered. 

 Harry cocked a smile, and his hands fell from waist. “Yeah, it was.” Guarded eyes look to me. “Y/N went with my sister.” 

 So he had seen. I couldn't tell if there was irritation lacing his voice, but there certainly wasn’t joy. Entangled…. 

 “Oh, that’s fun. We’ll have to go watch you sometime huh honey?”

 I nodded slowly, eyes wide, silently asking what in the HECK are you doing in here?? 

 She drummed her fingers along the door. “Are you staying the night? You’re more than welcome to sleep on the couch. I know it doesn’t look that big, but it’s actually quite comfortable with all the blankets...”

 “You’re so sweet, really,” he started. And Mother believed it. I believed it. His entire look softened. “But I can’t, unfortunately. I have an early practice tomorrow. And I have to get gas on my way home.”

 My heart sank. The car. He needed to move my car.

 “Oh, really?” Mother opened the door wider. “It’s getting late, though. It started raining…” 

 “I’m used to a little rain,” he said, slipping past my mother. I remained behind her, arms crossed. “Thank you for having me. It was a lovely dinner.” He looked to me, betrayed and abandoned, something sad and regretful brimming in his eyes. He lifted a finger to his brow in salute, then turned on his heel, heading down the hall. 

 “Bye Harry!” She called. Then, to me, “Don’t you want to walk him out?” 

 I shook my head, fighting back a slew of angry words as I sulked to my window. I opened it, wide, letting the first sprinkles of rain hit my face. 

 “Oh honey, shut that, you’ll get the sill all wet.” 

 “I just want to feel it for a little while,” I said. 

 “You’ll catch cold!”

 “Mom, please.”

 She flinched. “Okay. Just a little, though. Want me to close your door?” 

 I nodded, a gust of wind blowing and almost slamming it shut itself. 

 “A storm’s coming, Y/N,” she shivered. “Don’t stand there too long.”  

 I wasn’t sure when she left my doorway, but I knew when he left the driveway. An engine roared to life and the rain surged with a frenzy. I listened as the grumbling faded away, down the street and off to somewhere unknown - but not out of my life. That part wasn’t in my control, but there were things that were. I couldn’t stand around and wait for him anymore. Mother was right.

 I closed the window, walking to the foot of my bed. Alone, a soppy looking girl stared back at me from the mirror. She sat on a familiar bed, wet hair plastering her face, droplets hanging from her nose, from her lashes. She looked only partly relaxed, the rest of her poised, tensed, like she could either jump or sleep in any given second. She looked exhausted.  

 But there was something alive, still. Just beyond her eyes, a little ember catching spark.

 I wasn’t going to stand around. The window had already opened. The rain had hit the fan and it’d soaked me through. Nothing was going to change unless I did. Unless I moved.

 Waiting for a boy to verify my safety?

 Yeah, no thanks. If Madame Bovary taught me anything,

 I’d get that myself.

part 19

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 19

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 9,165

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

Neverland, as I was currently discovering, was a huge indoor playground at the Dusk Town Center mall. A place where children never had to grow up, or so its big overhead sign boasted. Its vast range of diversions for the little ones included such attractions as a jungle gym in the shape of a large comical skull, a huge green plastic alligator that had a slide built into its long back, and monkey bars supported at either end by large, spooky prop trees. Off in one corner, there were even synthetic, cute yet culturally problematic teepees for the tiny tots to crawl around and hide in. But its crowning jewel seemed to be the kiddie train that ran along the tracks circling the entire play area. Each of its carts were actually little pirate ships that could fit one child in it, maybe two if they were really little.

Since the playground was in the middle of a wide open mall walkway, many stores surrounded it, such as an antique shop by the name of Cave of Wonders. Beyond the rusty brass lamps in its window and past an old, tacky purple carpet draping off a shelf, a friendly young woman with long black hair tied back into a two-sectioned ponytail and wearing a turquoise crop top could be seen running the counter.

Next door to that was Game-A-Saurus Rex, a video game store sporting a green t-rex mascot as part of its logo. An absolute giant of an employee with messy brown hair was currently setting up a display pyramid but his meaty, clumsy hands accidentally knocked it over, wrecking it. I got the feeling this wasn't the first time from the look of being one hundred percent done he was receiving from his silver haired coworker with mismatched eyes.

Neighboring them, I was a bit surprised to discover there was even an Esmerelda's Secrets here as well, a… ahem, lingerie store, to use a more PG term. I found its location so near to the play area to be a bit of a questionable mall layout choice.

I sighed, paper bag lunch crinkling in my grip as I glanced around.

Where was he?

"Are you sure this is where he told you he wanted to meet up?" Kristoff asked beside me, his eyes scanning about as well. Thankfully, he'd forgiven me by now for the minor phone-hurling fiasco and we were back on speaking terms again.

"Positive," I fished my mobile out of my pocket with my free hand, rereading Lea's text asking me to head to Neverland once my lunch break had started.

Since I'd never heard of it before, I'd asked Kristoff (him being the closest person at hand since he'd been working the Ice Palace registers with me) if he'd known what it was. I figured he could at least point me in the right direction, which would be faster than looking at a mall directory. Instead, since he was getting off shift the same time I was going on lunch, he'd offered to walk me there, saying it was on his way anyway.

But now here we were and a certain redhead was nowhere to be seen.

"Bah, I'm sure he'll turn up any second now," Kristoff shrugged off with a laugh. I said nothing, just continued to frown down at my phone before raising my eyes to take another look around. Shoving one of his hands into his pocket while he used the other to ruffle the hair at the back of his head, Kristoff said, "So… your sister…"

"Anna? What about her?" I muttered distractedly, gaze still jumping from face to unfamiliar face. Come on, Lea was a friggin' mountain with hair like a beacon that could light a path home for even the most wayward of lost ships. The guy should have been sticking out like a sore thumb.

He pursed his lips to one side, slightly widened eyes darting about now. "She's… well, she's really… neat." I blinked, slowly looking over at him now. He stiffened, then gave a weak chuckle, "Did I say neat? Not neat, I meant, ah… pretty!" His face blanched. "Pretty… pretty, pretty swell, that is! Yeah, a real bangarang," insert his wince here, "gal that, uh... that's really, er…"

Annnnnd now he was blushing. What was with him, anyway? It was so unlike him to be getting all tongue-tied and-

Oh.

Oh dear. I knew what this was.

Someone had a crush.

Ugh, why did I have to be the one to break his heart by telling him my sister was already in a relationship?

"...anyway," his voice cracked and he coughed, beating a fist to his chest before trying again. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say, or… rather ask is... would you know if, ah… is... is she seeing any-" his idly wandering gaze landed on something past me and he froze, words dying on his tongue. Then his eyelids drooped. "...I think I found your boyfriend."

My brow furrowed at the face he was making before I turned on my heel, following his gaze.

I heard them before I saw them. Cheerful whoops and hollers echoing from the plastic tunnel over the railroad tracks, heralding the emerging train of pirate ships. Then there they were: Lea and Roxas, taking up a full boat each as the locomotive chugged along, their hands thrown up high over their heads as they cackled in almost maniac glee. The two kids in the cart behind them - a carrot top boy in a green cap embroidered with a red feather logo and a little blonde girl wearing toy fairy wings - were giving them funny looks.

I spluttered, my fingers shooting up to smother and hide the grin I was fighting. This was behavior I did not want to encourage.

There he was, ladies and gentlemen. My bad-boy boyfriend in all his glory.

I hope the Duke's spy wasn't here to witness this.

Scratch that, I'd rather no one were here to witness this.

"Those goddamn morons have been at this for over ten minutes now," I heard a grumble from a familiar voice close by. I looked to my right to discover Xion standing there, watching them with a scowl and one eye twitching. As the train drew near, she called out flatly, "Oh yeah, looking real classy there, guys!"

"We're posh as fuck!" Lea replied smugly with a pinky raised, heedless of what nearby young and impressionable ears might overhear. Then his eyes drifted past her to notice me for the first time. His already beaming face did the impossible and brightened even further. As his little pirate ship choo-chooed its way past us, he cried out, "There you are, El! 'Bout time! We're celebrating!"

"El? Who's El? No, you must have me mistaken for someone else. I don't know you," I shook my head, taking a step back. "Quick, let's get out of here," I hissed to Kristoff, snatching his arm with one hand and using the other to hide my face as I tried to make a hasty retreat.

"Oh-ho, no ya don't! You're not getting away that easily!" I heard Lea laugh behind me. I hazarded a quick glance over my shoulder to see him struggling to get out of the cart - he was wedged in there pretty good, seeing as how those boats were never meant to withstand a man of his considerable stature. However, he finally managed to wiggle himself free and jump off the moving kiddie train, stumbling over the railing surrounding it and leaving poor Roxas behind looking quite distraught at having been abandoned.

Then he was charging towards me and I spun around to face him, defensively throwing my hands up in front of me. "Got ya!" he declared triumphantly, snagging me by the waist, my arms instinctively going to hug his neck as he lifted me up and spun me around a couple times.

What was even happening?

"Right," Kristoff said. Don't ask me how, but I could distinctly hear the eyeroll in his voice. "I think I'm gonna go now."

He walked off and I frowned after him as Lea put me back down, though his arms still kept me trapped against him. Then I shrugged. Kristoff's wee crush would have to be a problem for another day. Looking up at Lea, I shook my head with a barely suppressed smile, "What has you so giddy?"

"I got my test grade back today," he chirped, nuzzling his nose to mine for all the crowded mall to see.

"Your test?" I cocked my head at him. Then it clicked. "Oh, the one I helped you study for? You passed?"

"Passed nothing, I aced that sucker! Made it my bitch and it was all thanks to you!" And with that, he was hoisting me up for another twirl.

"Dude, what the hell?!" a shout suddenly rang out across the mall before Roxas came bursting out of the press of shoppers, sneakers screeching to a halt in front of us as he glared at Lea. "Can't believe you just ditched me like that! I looked like a total dumbass riding that thing all by myself!"

"Oh sure," Xion deadpanned at his side, "cuz you looked like a regular Einstein before as a grown-ass man riding around in the widdle choo-choo train with another grown-ass man."

Roxas crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in the air with a harrumph. "You're just jelly cuz we didn't invite you."

She scoffed, "You didn't invite me cuz I turned you guys down the last ten times you tried to drag me onto that dumb thing because I didn't want to look stupid."

"Your face looks stupid!"

Xion lunged at him, but Lea had already put me down and was snagging them both by the scruff of their shirt collars, dragging them apart from each other. He sighed, "Kiddos, please, would you start acting like the grown-ups that you are?"

Said the adult man who'd just been joyriding in the kiddie train.

Seriously, how were these three even college students? They all acted like a bunch of preschoolers.

"Ha, fat chance with this dope," Xion snerked, reaching across to flick Roxas in the forehead.

"Why you-" he broke free of Lea's grasp. Xion gasped and managed to squirm loose herself, bolting and squealing with laughter as she disappeared into the crowd, Roxas hot on her heels.

"Oi, kids these days. I give up," Lea grumbled, shaking his head and tossing his hands up in defeat. "Now where were we?" Looking back at me, his eyes lit up. "Ah yes," he bent forward, bringing us nose to nose with a tiny smirk, "my reward."

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead and I staggered back a bit. "Your… reward?"

"Mm-hm!" he nodded, grin twitching wider. "For kicking that test's ass, I get a reward! It's standard girlfriend protocol."

I blinked, "...it is?"

"Didn't ya read your dating handbook?"

...there's a handbook?!

Wait. No. That was just a joke.

And wishful thinking on my part.

Because I mean, seriously, how much easier would my life be right now if I could consult a handbook?

That aside, I had to get back to the matter at hand: some kind of reward for Lea. Which was my duty as the girlfriend. Apparently. What did that even entail? What was it supposed to be? What was I supposed to do? My face paled and my hands clenched. This was too much responsibility to be thrust onto me all of a sudden! What, was I supposed to buy him something? Or… maybe this was this another PDA situation? I mean, I hadn't made a move in that department since the roller rink a couple days ago. If tripping and crashing into him even counted. Which, personally, I was still chalking up as one for the win column. Had to take my small victories wherever I could! That said… perhaps it was high time I gave it another go?

Yes. Okay. I was going to do this. This… I was going to do.

My gaze hardened and my nostrils flared slightly as I started taking deep, sharp breaths, psyching myself up.

I got this. No more putting it off. Be strong! Be brave! Carpe diem! Seize the day! Grab the bull by the horns! Strike while the iron's hot!

Lea snerked, straightening up, "Woah, El, your face! Relax! I'm kidding! Just teasing ya like I always-"

YOLO!

I dropped my lunch bag, grabbed his head in both hands, yanked him down and kissed him.

...on the nose.

Way to bury the lead there, I know.

But hey, it still counted! Let me have this!

I held it for the space of a few thundering heartbeats before I pulled back, releasing his face and doing my best to ignore the slight jitters I felt from the adrenaline surge.

Lea was stock-still and just giving me a blank, wide-eyed stare.

Huh… not the reaction I was expecting.

A few long seconds ticked by where nothing happened. My eyes darted about nervously. Then I slowly, awkwardly picked my lunch sack back up off the floor. And still nothing from him. Nada. Not one peep.

Should… should I say something?

That's when he jolted upright (startling me half to death, I might add) and brought both his hands up to cup his nose, spinning around so his back was to me now.

Okay, really, really not the reaction I was expecting. At all. Just what-

Then it hit me.

I hadn't asked his permission first! And after he'd been so careful with me all this time too! Apparently I couldn't even return the favor! Fudge, this was like the Kissident all over again. Except worse! At least then, it'd been an accident. This time I'd done it on purpose! This was premeditated! Not to mention this now made me a repeat offender! A… a serial kisser! Would my reign of smooching terror never cease?

Anxiety eating up at me now like a swarm of angry ants in the pit of my stomach, I bit down on my bottom lip and took a hesitant step forward. "Lea?" I asked, my voice small. "Did I do something wrong or-"

"Nope! No, it was good. Really, really good," he said quickly, voice tight and muffled still by his hands. Then I heard him puff out a slow breath, watched his arms fall to his sides and he whipped around towards me once more, huge smile splitting his face in two. "So good, in fact, it's high-five worthy. Whaddya say, wanna high-five? Let's high-five." He held his palm up in front of me. I wordlessly stared back at him, arching an eyebrow. He was being weird, even for him. And why was he talking so fast? He hastily dropped his hand, "Not high-five. Forget that. That's stupid. We should, uh… we should go. Wanna go? Let's go."

As he snagged my free hand in his and tugged me into a walk beside him, I tipped my head to the left and uncertainly gave him some side-eye. "...where are we going?"

Seemingly already recovered, his grip shifted to instead hook our pinkies together as he shot me a wink. "Where all couples sneak off to whenever they have a lil free time. Somewhere dark, secret and secluded so," here he raised his voice for all to hear over the mall hub-bub, "we can make out!"

My feet faltered and I stumbled, barely catching myself as my face spontaneously broke out into its best impersonation of a tomato. "M-make out?!"

He snorted, bending close to my ear and whispering, "Calm down, only said it for show. We'll just find some place to lay low until your lunch is over and let the gossip mill churn." Straightening back up to his full height, he beamed, "Sound good, my knuddelbärchen?" A crease formed between my eyebrows and he chuckled. "Go on, ask. Ya know ya want to."

I sighed, "And knuddelbärchen is…?"

"German for cuddle bear," he pinched my cheek.

"No."

"You can sleep on it, then get back to me."

I rolled my eyes but held my tongue as I continued to let him lead the way to wherever it was we were going. It wasn't long before we entered a part of the mall I was more familiar with and he turned us down the deserted wing that was under construction. Ah, back to the clocktower then, was it? So be it.

Once the locked door was picked and we were inside, I started to head for the stairs but he stopped me with a hand on my elbow. At my questioning look, he said, "Dunno where the kiddos disappeared off to. They may have beat us to the punch and could be up there already, which'll totally bust our whole fake make-out sesh. Better to just hide out down here instead."

"Alright," I nodded as he released my arm.

And there it was again. That strangeness that seemed to hang in the air whenever we were alone together now. Whenever we didn't have to put on the act of being in a relationship. I was now so used to him lacing our fingers together every chance he got that when he didn't this time, instead opting to stuff his hands into his pockets with a grin and a soft "heh," my own hand almost felt… slighted? Bereft? Sad? Could hands even feel sad? Well, whatever the hand equivalent of sadness was, it felt that.

There were a couple large, dusty crates stored in here with us at the bottom of the clocktower. I stepped over to one, gingerly dusting off the surface before setting my paper bag down on top of it. Then I cleared my throat and looked to him with a small, timid smile. "This whole rent-a-boyfriend thing is really becoming a full time job now, isn't it? Sorry… to be wasting your time like this. I'm sure there are better ways you'd be preferring to spend it rather than stuck here with me."

Lea blinked at me, then huffed out a breath of a laugh. "Hey, you already forgetting whose idea it was for us to steal away on our own like this? Ya got nothing to be sorry for. I like this, it's fun! 'Sides," he moved to stand in front of me, leaning one shoulder against the wooden support beam there that was holding up the decrepit old staircase above us, "it's not a waste. I'm a big fan of my El time. Love having any excuse to hang out with ya and have you all to myself."

Cue heart spasm.

Dropping my gaze and tugging my Ice Palace cap down to hide my warming cheeks, I zeroed in on opening my lunch bag with far more acute focus than was absolutely necessary. Let's see what Mama Rayne had packed for me today, inquiring minds were simply dying to know. To him, I just mumbled, "To each their own, I guess."

"So…" he reached a hand out, index finger flicking the bill of my hat back up so he could meet my eyes when he smirked, "...you kissed me."

All color drained from my face.

Crud. Was hoping this wouldn't come up.

"I'm sorry!" came bursting out of me.

His head rocked back before he snorted and sighed, "You apologize too much, ya know that? Fine, I'll bite. What're you sorry for now?"

"I should've asked if that was okay before I did it!" I took off my cap, wringing it between my hands. "I overstepped, I shouldn't have just assumed! I hope I didn't freak you out or make things awkward or uncomfortable or, or weird or-"

"Woah, woah, slow down," he chuckled, holding up his hands. "Ya got nothing to worry about. I was totally, one hundred and ten percent cool with it!"

My eyebrows knit together. "Really?" I frowned, absently setting the hat down on the box. "But you seemed so… I thought I might've upset you or-"

"Upset? Nah, not even a lil bit! Surprised, maybe, cuz I never in a million years expected you to, ah… heh…" he paused, pursing his lips to the right as he dragged his hand along the nape of his neck. Then he closed his eyes in a grin, "How 'bout this? This, right here, right now, is me giving you the okay to do whatever you want to me from now on in order to maintain your girlfriend cover. Anything goes, got it?"

Eyes growing round, I stammered, "A-anything?"

He couldn't be serious! Anything was a lot. Anything was… well, anything.

"Yup, anything! Don't hold back. Just feel free to go to town on me."

This was too much power. Do not want. Take it back.

"I, uh…" What does one even say to that? "O-okay… thanks?" Was this something I should be thanking him for? Seemed like a weird thing to thank him for. This whole discussion just seemed weird, period. Concentrating on my packed lunch once more, I pulled out a ziplock of baby carrots. "...I don't think I'll be, er… going to town on you any time soon though, but the offer is, ah…" Is what? "...appreciated?" Sure, let's go with that.

"Shame," Lea tsked under his breath, then snerked as his hand shot up to block the carrot I threw at him. "Kidding, kidding! Still, just know that door's always open, in case ya ever wanna put on a bit of a show for any audience we might have. I won't be bothered. Promise."

"I'll keep that in mind," I muttered, taking out a second carrot to nibble on as I averted my gaze. Was ready to talk about something else now.

"Still, fact of the matter remains," one corner of his lips curled up, "you kissed me."

Gah! Would he stop saying that already!

A soft harrumph. "Only on the nose."

"One lucky nose!" He hunched forward slightly, pointing at it, "I'll have you know I'm never gonna wash this puppy ever again."

I snorted, setting the ziplock down on the box and reaching back into the paper sack to see what other goodies it contained. "Be serious."

"I am! Wouldn't wanna lose the divine blessing you've bestowed upon it on this fine day!"

Biting back a smile now as I continued to root around in the bag, I shook my head. "Does this mean that you also haven't washed your lips since the-" I abruptly froze, eyes widening and mouth clamping shut.

There was a pause, then I could see out of my peripheral the slow cheshire grin spreading across Lea's face. "Go on, since the…?"

Since the Kissident, was what I'd been about to say.

I knew it.

He knew it.

But did I have the guts to actually power through and finish that sentence?

Frantic fingers grabbing the first thing they could out of the lunch sack, I shoved it into his face with a weak laugh, "Chocolate pudding cup?"

Nope. I sure as heck most certainly did not.

Elsa, Queen of the Skillful and Seamless Subject Change.

"Oo!" he chirped in delight, taking it. Well, he was easily distracted. That, or he was just being nice and letting me off the hook. Probably the latter. "A nose kiss and pudding? Big day!"

With a soft, relieved sigh through my nostrils, I fished out a plastic spoon to hand him as well. "Don't forget about the train ride too. Big day indeed… do you and Roxas do that often?"

Having already torn into it and taken a spoonful into his mouth, he swallowed. "Not really. Only for special occasions. Wouldn't wanna cheapen the experience."

My eyes crinkled. "Because it's already so sophisticated and highbrow to begin with," I said, forgoing the PB and J sandwich at the bottom of the bag for now and instead opting to pull out some string cheese. Removing the wrapper, I asked, "Passing an exam counts as a special occasion?"

"Only the hard as balls ones that can make or break my overall grade for the course," he shrugged, scooping out some more pudding and offering it to me, to which I just shook my head.

"Ah," I rested one hip against the crate, peeling off a thin strip of mozzarella and slipping it into my mouth. "How many years do you have left on your degree anyway?"

"Couple more. Though I hear if I'm a model student, they'll let me graduate early for good behavior."

"Don't think that's how it works," I hummed a low laugh. "Then after that… what was it again? ...a nice little ice cream shanty by the seashore, I believe?"

Lea grinned around his spoon, "Something like that."

Pulling off another strand, I hesitated with a slight frown. "...but why ice cream?" At his cocked head and raised eyebrows, I worried my lower lip between my teeth. How to phrase this? "...it's just been something I've been wondering about actually. What with your mother dropping you off at an ice cream shop before she, ah... split when you were so little, I would have thought it would just be a… a source of bad memories, is all."

He snorted, looking down at his spoon as he swirled it around in the chocolate goop. "S'not the ice cream's fault my deadbeat mom abandoned Saïx and me when we were kids. She's taken a lot from me, I won't let her take that too. 'Sides, also got a lotta good memories tied to ice cream. Fun times with friends and whatnot. It's nice that something so simple can bring a smile to people's faces and I just like the idea of being a part of that. Sounds silly, I know, but what can I say?" He thrust the now heavily pudding-laden utensil up high in the air, "I have a calling! And answer it I must!"

I brought a curled finger to my lips, hiding the tiny smile. "Some calling. You still haven't even guessed which one's my favorite yet."

"Told ya, it's a process," he stuck the spoon into his mouth, holding it there as he squinted thoughtfully. "Speaking of… lessee, what other flavors haven't come up yet… ah! Three Wishes?" he asked, pointing the plastic implement at me. Then he scoffed, "Yeah right. Way too gimmicky with all that blue cotton candy. It's trying too hard. Classy and effortless is more your speed."

My smile ticked wider as my fingers plucked further at the string cheese. "Are we still even talking about ice cream anymore?"

"Course! Trust me, I've got this down to a science. I know my shit."

"If you say so," I gave a soft snort. "You really have me at the edge of my seat here. I can't wait to see which one you finally land on."

"Me neither. I'm just as much on this journey as you are," he chuckled, tossing the now empty cup onto the crate alongside the paper bag. Propping one shoulder against the post again, he looked down and scratched his cheek. "...hey, so, ya free in a couple nights? Saïx's been wanting to meet my new lady friend and suggested we have you over for dinner."

Finishing the last of my own snack, I quirked an eyebrow at him. "He knows you have a lady friend?"

"Wasn't hard for him to guess since I've been out all night a lot recently, what with your couch being my new home away from home."

"Oh." My fingers reached for a tendril of my ponytail to twist as I mulled for a second. "Yeah, I suppose… I don't have any closing shifts coming up for a while, so I'm free for the next few nights. Just let me know when."

"Sweet! We can see this as a test run of sorts. Practice for the big weekend with your folks and-" he suddenly fell silent, head jerking to his right. I blinked, confused. Then I heard it too. This soft rattling coming from the doorknob - the telltale sounds of a lock being picked. "Crap! The kiddos! Hide," Lea hissed, grabbing my shoulders and shoving us both beneath the staircase, my back hitting the wall behind me.

The door burst open. I didn't so much see it since the stairs were now between me and it, blocking my line of sight, but I heard it along with the echoing laughter of two very familiar voices. As it slammed shut again and the staircase began to quake from feet running up it hard, I heard Xion ask, "Think we'll find them up there?"

"Probably." That was Roxas. I turned my head to the left, watching through the slats between the steps as his sneakers blurred past. "Giving each other tonsillectomies, no doubt."

My face heated as I realized they were talking about Lea and me.

But good news! Lea's plan was working. People thought we were off somewhere, er... shall we say, necking.

Or at the very least, those two thought so anyway.

I heard a snigger from Xion as her boots rushed past the gap not too far behind him. "Perfect. Let's scare them shitless."

They both cackled and tried to shush each other at the same time as I heard their thudding footsteps fade further and further away above us. Once I was certain they were gone, I puffed out the breath I'd been holding.

That's when I became aware of several things. Very, very aware.

Aware of the familiar feeling of Lea's eyes on me. Aware of how close we were. Of his grip still on my shoulders. Of my hands on his chest. Of the gentle thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. Of his warm, spicy boy scent. Of his body pressed to mine, pinning me to the wall still from his rush just seconds ago to get us both out of sight. Of the fact that I could still sense his gaze on me.

Oh gosh, was there something on my face?

I slowly turned my head to look up at him and meet his eyes. He had that look in them again that I'd seen once or twice before. The one that made my insides twist and flip-flop.

Emergency! This is not a drill, people! Fetch the conceal-don't-feel armor and suit up, stat! I repeat, this is not a drill!

The slightest hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his lips and when he spoke, his voice was low. Barely above a whisper. "You know what would… really sell this make-out sesh? ...if right along here..." he ran the tip of his index finger along the side of my neck down to where it met my shoulder, so lightly I hardly felt it, his eyes following its trail the whole time, "...there was a hickey. Maybe two or three. Ya know… just for appearances, of course..."

I just stared at him for a second. Then two. Then I smiled, "That's a great idea!"

He looked taken aback, his gaze widening. "Wait, really?!"

"Of course! Did you bring any makeup with you?" I asked. He just gave me a blank look. "You know, like your guyliner. Do you have anything else? Something that could make the fake marks look convincing?"

He blinked a couple times. "Makeup… right… that's what I meant… heh..." his eyes darted to the left. "But shoot, you know what? Didn't bring any with me." A slow smirk stretching across his face now, he bent down to press his forehead to mine as his eyes hooded, "But hey... we could also always make 'em the old fashioned way."

Once more I stared, expression neutral.

Processing… processing…

Then my eyelids drooped. "...you're messing with me again, aren't you?"

Lea stiffened. Then he relaxed, straightening back up and bracing an elbow against the wall above my head, resting his brow to his forearm as his whole body shook with a soft chuckle. "Yup! Yup, you uh… you caught me alright! Totes was."

Conceal-don't-feel armor saves the day once again! If it hadn't been for that, my heart might have exploded in that situation.

Man, was I getting good at deflecting these little jokes of his now or what?

He shifted over and away from me, giving us both some breathing room now. "Do you think maybe we should go somewhere else?" I asked, my gaze drifting up the clocktower as I returned to the crate, repacking my lunch back into its bag and picking up my hat. Thank goodness the "kiddos" hadn't noticed this stuff before dashing upstairs. "Just so Xion and Roxas don't catch us down here?"

"Sure, good call. I gotta few other secret spots 'round this place we can hole up in until your lunch is over." He went to the door, pushing it open a crack so he could peek out.

"Okay," I nodded while waiting for him to make sure the coast was clear. Then I grinned. "You know, you almost had me going back there with the hickies."

"If only," he muttered so softly, I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly.

"Hm?"

His shoulders tensed, then he breathed a feeble laugh as he glanced back at me, "If only… I'd, er... remembered to bring some makeup! Ah well, maybe next time, huh? C'mon, let's go." His hand reached for mine.

I took it and suddenly my hand didn't feel so sad anymore as I let him lead me back out into the mall.

I couldn't sleep.

I rolled over onto my left side, pulling the sheets up to my chin and curling in on myself a bit. Then over to my right. A few seconds ticked by. Then I rested my back to the mattress and frowned up at my bedroom ceiling, at the long thin patch of frail moonlight slashing across it from between the curtains of my window. Sighing, I tossed over onto my side again and tried putting my head beneath the pillow this time, hoping the added darkness and some light hypoxia would do the trick to knock me out.

No such luck.

With another heavy sigh, I sat up, letting the pillow fall back down behind me. I brought a hand up towards one of my earplugs, stopping just short of reaching it as I frowned over at the wall I shared with my roommates. Then I tentatively pulled it out, already preemptively grimacing as the noises I might hear.

Instead my ears were greeted with a very different sound and from a different direction no less. Coming through my closed door from the living room was a faint, hollow murmur of voices. I squinted towards it, tipping my head to one side. Was that… the TV? Tugging the other earplug out, I set both down onto my nightstand as I listened for another minute, my fingers fiddling with my braid. Then folding my sheets away from me, I got out of bed, smoothed my nightgown and crept over to the door to open it.

Lea was sitting on his couch out here, the glow of the television screen the only thing illuminating him in the otherwise dark living room. Since him couch-surfing here was becoming a bit of a habit now, he'd started bringing an overnight bag with him for things like toiletries and the pyjamas he was currently wearing - a black tank top and PJ pants patterned with tiny fireballs sporting evil smiley faces. In fact I think it may have been the same design on the frisbees I'd seen back at his apartment. Some kind of brand logo, perhaps?

His elbows were braced up on the backrest behind him, temple propped against one fist as he watched the screen. He glanced over at me as I stepped out, quirking an eyebrow and lifting his head off his knuckles. "El?"

I gave my braid a tiny tug before dropping my hands and clasping them together, forcing them to be still as I gave him a small smile. "You're up late."

He grinned back. "Yeah. Never really could pass out to total silence," he nodded towards where his own earplugs laid discarded on the coffee table. Then he wrinkled his nose, shooting a sideways glance towards Rayne's and Riku's room. "But shit, you weren't kidding 'bout those two going at it like jackrabbits in there. Had to do something to tune 'em out, so turned on the ol' tube and guess what I found?"

I moved to stand beside him for a better view of the TV. The scene was currently zoomed in on a couple riding in the back row seat of a trolley. The girl was distracted, lost in whatever she was talking about while the guy was reaching his hand over to tuck her hair back, only to awkwardly snatch it away when she suddenly turned to look at him, completely oblivious to the gesture as she continued to enthusiastically ramble on. My smile grew as I took a seat next to Lea. "It's Before Dawn. Imagine that."

"I know. What timing, right?" he hummed a small laugh. We were both quiet for a few seconds, simply watching the movie. Then he nudged my knee with his, "And what brings ya out here in the middle of the night? Other than the pleasure of my charming company, of course."

That earned him a soft snort as I slouched more comfortably into the sofa and picked up one of the small throw pillows, hugging it in my arms. "Trouble sleeping."

"Oh?" he looked over at me, relaxing his hand along the top of the cushions behind my head. "Something on your mind?"

I gnawed on my bottom lip, not taking my eyes off the television even though I wasn't really paying attention to it anymore. "...it's just coming up so fast."

Brow furrowing, he squinted up at the ceiling in thought for a second. "You mean our visit to the parental units?"

My insides churned as I gave a small nod. "It's only a week away now. It doesn't feel like enough time. I don't know if I'll be able to go through with this… if we… if I will be prepared in time… if I'll be able to face them."

"Hey, don't worry 'bout it," he flashed a warm grin. "You and me? We got this. I like to think we've become quite the awesome dynamic duo. Gotten pretty good at this whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing. Got the entire mall buying into our story and if we can fool them, we can fool anyone."

"But it's not anyone," I muttered, squeezing the pillow more tightly to me. "It's Father. And Mother. And..." my face scrunched up, "...the Duke too? ...for some reason? Anyway, tricking Father for a grand total of five minutes was one thing, but now? Now it's my whole family. For a whole weekend. What if they find out?" Oh dear, I could already feel a panic attack coming on just thinking about it. I turned my head, frowning at him. "...what if I can't do this?"

The hand behind me lifted, hesitantly hovering and shifting about for a second before settling on a quick, reassuring pat to my head. "Just say the word and you can pull the plug on this whole op anytime ya want. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't wanna do. But just know you're a lot stronger than you think. And chances are? It won't be as bad as you fear." He poked himself in the side of the head, just above his left ear, "Our brains like to mess with us, tell us things will be a lot worse than they actually turn out to be. And 'sides, you won't be doing this alone. I'll be right there with you the whole weekend. Your sister too. We got your back. You got a support system. Consider us your safety net. We'll be there to pick up the slack and catch you if you fall."

I bowed my head, nose perched on top of the edge of the pillow now. "...thank you. That helps," I muffled into it, my tiny smile hidden. And I meant it. I could already feel some of my unease starting to slip away. Straightening back up and tossing my head back onto the couch, I inhaled deeply before loudly exhaling. "I should just stop thinking about it. Stressing out over it now does me no good. I need to be talking about something else."

"Something else, huh?" he mumbled, eyes returning to the movie as he scratched the tip of his nose. "...so I had a thought. Remember the other day when you said you'd be looking for a new place in a few months when lil Baby Hewley arrived?" His knee started jiggling up and down while out of the corner of my eye, I could see his fingers fidgeting with the seam of the backrest cushions. "Well, what if… and ya know, this would only be if you weren't able to find somewhere on your own and if, like… you had no place else to go and were up shit's creek and whatnot, but… what if you moved in with…" he glanced back my way, "...me?"

I blinked at him. "...you?"

His face brightened. "Yeah, whaddya think? We got plenty of space for ya! It'll be a total blast! And hey, we could even get ya a puppy."

Fighting a grin, I quirked an eyebrow. "A puppy? But what about Saïx?"

"Psh," he brushed off, one hand batting the air. "Saïx can fight me. You want a dog? You're getting a dog, end of story."

I snerked and looked down. Lips pursing to one side, I did a mental replay of what I could remember of when Lea had given me the grand tour of his apartment. "...am I forgetting a third bedroom you guys have?"

"Nah," he shook his head, "just the two. But you can have mine and I'll just… I dunno, sleep on the couch."

"You can't sleep on the couch in your own home," I scoffed.

"Sure I can! I'm actually growing quite accustomed to catching some Z's on 'em. These bad boys are surprisingly comfy," he pat the armrest next to him and beamed. "In fact, dunno if I can ever go back to a lame ol' bed again!"

Rolling my eyes, I said, "I meant because Saïx will see you. Won't he have questions about you sleeping on the sofa every night?"

"Oh. Right," he laughed, fingers ruffling his hair. "Well then I can just… sleep in the room with you. On the floor," he hastily amended. "Yeah, it'll be fun! Like a slumber party every night!"

One side of my lips twitched up as I toyed with the corner of the throw pillow I was still holding snug. "You're sweet, but… no, that'd just be crazy."

"...yeah. Crazy," he averted his gaze with a tiny chuckle. Then he frowned, plucking the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "...is it though? I mean, think about it. It'd be like the next stage of our dating evolution. That's what all couples do sooner or later, right? Move in together?"

"But the baby will be here in, what…" both my eyebrows rose as I stared off into space, "...four more months? Five? I figure we'll have probably staged a breakup by then."

"Breakup?!" he jerked forward in his seat, eyes widening slightly.

I knit my eyebrows together. "Well yeah. You… didn't think we were going to be fake dating forever, right?"

"Well, I…" he hunched forward, propping his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together beneath his nose as he narrowed his gaze on the floor. "...no, I guess not."

I tilted my head at him. Then opened my mouth. Then closed it. I focused on the TV instead. "...I figured… it'd be some time after we visited my parents. Depending on how it goes, of course. Once I was…" I shrugged, gripping the pillow more tightly, "...sure they weren't going to try to interfere with my life anymore. After that… maybe a few more weeks? A month, perhaps? Just so it wouldn't look too quick, too… suspicious or raise questions…"

Why was this so hard? Why did it make my heart squeeze, just a bit? Come on, it's not like it was a real breakup! Besides, this could maybe, possibly, eventually open up the door to actually start something more real with him in the future. If I ever got the guts up to even pursue something like that… whenever he started dating again… which would be when he no longer had to focus on his schoolwork… aka when he graduated...

...in two years…

Why did that suddenly seem like an eternity?

"...yeah," he sighed and slumped back again, his arm returning to its position behind me as he stretched them both out along the backrest once more, "that all makes sense, I guess." His lips were a flat line for a few seconds, but then he grinned over at me. "Tell ya one thing, though. Fake getting over you ain't gonna be easy. Might have to try and fake win you back."

"Oh no," I stifled a soft laugh into my fingers. "Hang on, let me guess… You. In a trenchcoat. Standing in the middle of the bustling food court. Boombox held high over your head and blasting out some old, cheesy love song. That about sum it up?"

He smirked, "Ah, fan of the classics like me, I see. Good guess, but I was actually thinking less John Cusack in Say Anything and more Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. Me. With a mic hacked into the food court's overhead speakers. Singing and dancing around on table tops while mall security chases me all over the place."

This big dork really was a sap. That is, if his taste in movies had anything to say about it.

Shaking my head in amusement, I said, "Who's to say you'd even fake want me back? Maybe it's you who ends up fake dumping me."

He huffed out a derisive snort, "Not a chance. I'd never be dumb enough to let someone like you go." I looked away, grateful the light from the TV wasn't bright enough to reveal the gentle warmth spreading into my cheeks. Lea shrugged as he went on, "Now, dumb enough to do something stupid and royally fuck it up so you'd kick my ass to the curb however? Yeah, now that sounds like it'd be pretty on brand for me."

"No, I don't think so," I smiled, resting my chin atop the seam of the throw pillow. "...thanks, Lea. I feel a lot better now. You're a… a really good friend."

Lea was quick to return the smile, "It's what I'm here for!" His gaze went back to the screen and there was a brief pause where the only sound was the low drone from the movie. "So… was that your roundabout way of wishing me a good night?"

"Hmm..." A beat before I shook my head, "Not yet. I think I'd like to stay and watch for a little while longer, if that's alright."

"It's more than alright," the corners of his eyes crinkled as he settled into his seat more comfortably. "It's alright times two."

I'm not sure exactly when it was I nodded off. Last scene I clearly remembered was our leading couple sitting at a restaurant together, their hands miming phones to their ears as they made imaginary calls to one another, so it must have been not too long after that. Next thing I knew I was blinking blearily at the television as it showed the girl now sitting on a bed in a small apartment, serenading the guy with her guitar. They both looked maybe a few years older. Must have been one of the sequels to the first movie. I was less familiar with those. It seemed Lea had stumbled upon some sort of late night marathon.

As consciousness returned to me piece by tiny piece, it slowly came to my attention that there was something... off about the pillow my cheek was resting against. Like the fact that it was oddly firm. And warm. And…

...breathing?

Eyes fully snapping open now, they darted about to realize I'd fallen asleep on Lea. Against his chest, to be exact. Embarrassed and panicking maybe just a smidge, I immediately tried to straighten up and away from him, only to be held firmly in place by the arm - his arm - that was draped heavily around my shoulders. I furrowed my brow over at it. Wha-?

Then he made a noise and I tensed.

Took me several heart-pounding seconds to register that noise for what it was.

A snore.

Puffing out a hushed breath and forcing my muscles to relax, I tentatively, cautiously turned my head to try and look up at him. Didn't work, and it only took me another second to realize why. There was a weight pressing down on the top of my hair that I hadn't really noticed until just now.

He was using my head as a pillow.

Welp. This was quite the predicament I found myself in.

Oh gosh, I just hope we'd fallen asleep roughly around the same time and had just, I don't know... naturally gravitated toward one another in our slumber? If I'd been snuggling up to him like this while he was awake the whole time, I'd never live it down.

Next thing my brain decided to alert me to was the fact that I'd misplaced my throw pillow. I must have dropped it when I'd dozed off for I was pretty sure I could feel it on the floor brushing against my bare feet. But that wasn't the important part. No, the important part was what my hands had decided to do in the wake of its disappearance. Left hand? It was good. Just laying there in my lap, all well behaved and polite-like. The right one, however? Had found its way over to rest atop Lea's knee. The little trollop. Especially considering that one of his hands was currently covering it. Had it no decency? No shame?

I considered my situation for another minute. Then taking a deep breath, I decided to commence with the extraction. Should be easier now that I was fully awake and aware of my circumstances so I could approach it all with a cooler, more level head.

First I used my free hand to gently lift his arm from my shoulder and gingerly set it back down on the couch backrest. Another snore from him and I froze. After a few seconds where nothing else happened however and I was sure I hadn't disturbed him, I then proceeded to bring my hand back up, this time to delicately press my fingertips to his chin.

Careful now, careful… wouldn't want to wake him…

I slowly pushed his head off mine and kept going until it lolled back onto the cushions behind him instead. With nothing left weighing me down now, I crept up onto my feet and peeked back at him to make sure he still snoozed. I was rewarded with yet another soft snore. That was all the confirmation I needed. I turned to make a break for my room.

Victory! Success! Elsa, Queen of The Daring Escape and-

Ack!

...okay, so something had just happened. More precisely, two somethings, both occurring at the exact same time. The first? Was my arm being pulled taut and bouncing me back like a rubber band stretched too tight. I stumbled but caught myself, the carpet muffling any sound I might have made. The second? Now that was just a word. One single, solitary word:

"Stay."

That one word sent my heart catapulting up into my throat as I whipped around to discover Lea had pulled his head up and was now looking straight at me.

Fudge, fudge, fudge, fudge!

...but actually… wait… his eyelids were sagging heavily. Half closed and groggy. His expression slack. And now that I thought about, when he'd spoken, it had come out sounding a little… sluggish? One might even say… drowsy?

...was he still half asleep?

I haltingly raised a hand to wave in front of his face. No reaction. As my shallow breaths began to slow and my heart rate calmed, I next looked down at my other hand to see what the snag had been there. This was the one that had been on his knee with his hand on top of it. Was still on top of it and, in fact, had tightened his grip around my fingers. This was what had snared me and brought my getaway to a screeching halt.

Yeesh, what a clingy sleeper he must be.

I brought my gaze back up to his face. He was still giving me that droopy, zombie-eyed stare. I tucked in my lower lip, studying him for a moment. Then I took a tiny step closer and bent over him slightly. My free hand came up, reaching for him. I froze midway, fingers curling towards my palm, hesitating. But only for a heartbeat before I was pushing forward again.

"Shh… go back to sleep," I whispered, gently stroking his hair just above his ear.

His really, really soft, silky smooth hair.

Which I'd not been expecting. Not at all.

Crud, I shouldn't be blushing this much.

However, it seemed to have the desired effect. His eyelids drifted all the way closed now as his head sank back down into the couch cushion. His hold on my hand relaxed enough for me to slip it free. I straightened back up, rubbing my rescued hand with the other as I watched him sleep for a few more seconds, my head tipping to one side. Then I retrieved the throw pillow from the floor and put it back on the sofa next to him before picking up the comforter to drape over him. It was only now I realized that it was too small for him for if I brought it up to cover his shoulders, it left his feet exposed.

The friggin' behemoth. Why hadn't he said anything? I'd have to see about finding a bigger one for him tomorrow.

I briefly considered turning off the TV but decided against it on the off chance the sudden lack of noise would wake him. Turning, I tiptoed back towards my bedroom, stopping in the doorway for one last backwards glance at him. Still out like a light. A grin pulled at one side of my mouth as I murmured, "Sweet dreams, sleeping beauty."

The only answer I got was a snore.

Author's Note: Our awkward penguin did it! She intentionally "made a move" for the first time, I'm so proud T_T Looks like our fire boi tried to make a bit of a move himself under the clocktower staircase there… with far less successful results xD One step forward, two steps back, huh? *Siiiiigh* ah well, these two will get there eventually :P And this is yet another chapter I lament not writing anything from Lea's POV… so many scenes in my head going on for him off camera that will never see the light of day xD Fun fact: The ice cream this chapter, Three Wishes, is named after (you guessed it) Agrabah's keyblade and I imagine its description on the menu would look something like: "This blueberry flavored soft serve will have you wishing for more! Comes in a blue cone wrapped in a ring of matching blue cotton candy, with lamp-shaped sugar cubes and a sprinkling of extra sugar to top it all off."

Next chapter, with that "make a move" hurdle finally overcome, what's next in our couple's fake dating adventures? Looks like there's a certain dinner with a certain Moon Boy on the horizon, how will this lil "test run" go? Will it be a resounding success or could it spell utter defeat for our pair? Not to mention the weekend with the folks is fast approaching, will our couple be ready in time? And just how DOES Lea fit his behemoth self into those itty-bitty pirate ship train carts? Some things will forever remain a mystery, but for the rest, stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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[eltanin-malfoy]

Get A Grip

pairing : draco/fem-y/n 

word count : 4k

warning(s) : mentions of torture/death/war/ptsd, some violence, angst, fluff

requested : no.

a/n : just slightly modifying canon events to whitewash draco a bit and make up an opportunity for x reader fluff! because if we don’t, would this even be a draco x reader? requests are open as usual, and any feedback would be appreciated! do you guys want me to make this a series? i might. (also this isn’t betaed again.)

Malfoy Manor was full of rooms and spaces even a long term inhabitant would never have to visit. There were quite a few luxurious bedrooms (all with king sized mattresses covered with egyptian cotton), bathrooms (slightly more modern, and.. swanky, additions) and all sorts of other lounge areas. Most of these rooms were barely used at all. Draco didn’t even think he’d managed to see all of the rooms yet. But, perhaps living in a house for generations relieves any curiosity you might have about it. 

However, there was one space he’d always been interested in where he’d been absolutely forbidden to enter : the cellar.

For him, it seemed to be like a basement full of wonders he had no idea about. There must have been some reason why he’d never been permitted to look inside it, right? Some peculiar, life-changing reason. But, he was wrong.

The cellars of the Manor had been used over the past few centuries as places for the Malfoys to keep prisoners. Actual living beings. There were real reasons other than the possibility of a fun creature living behind the door that it had bars over the windows. He’d considered the possibility, sure, but he didn’t realise its severity until he saw the other Death Eaters bringing in people. People they didn’t want to keep in Azkaban for some reason, but people they wanted to starve and torture right here.

It had been traumatic enough, really, having so many Death Eaters living in his house as the Dark Lord’s influence slowly grew stronger. Watching Professor Burbage’s death had only been the beginning of what was to come. Every day he stayed at his home, he’d be ordered to torture people the Dark Lord suspected or was simply disappointed with. Performing the Cruciatus curse hadn’t seemed all that bad in theory, but watching a grown man who could normally hold his own contort and scream in pain that you were causing to him was another level of horrifying. 

Draco had hoped to have escape it at Hogwarts, but, alas, the coming of the Carrows had been absolutely as awful as he’d anticipated. He had thought torturing grown adults was agony, but they’d seemed to make torturing students some kind of competition. Defense Against The Dark Arts classes were total nightmares and while practice with Aunt Bella had made him somewhat adept with the Unforgivable Curses, he could barely hold himself up when he heard the students around him screaming. 

After he’d seen Amycus torture a muggle-born first year, it was as if the sight would haunt him forever. He’d thought his task for sixth year was difficult, but this year had turned out to be much harder than he’d ever imagined. 

Not to mention, the guilt that started seeping into him over the course of the year. He’d begun to realise that his hatred towards the muggles and the muggle-borns around him had been.. biased. Perhaps even slightly bigoted. He knew he had no right to complain about what was going on in the castle, it was sort of his fault to begin with, and that just drove him further down that hole. 

He’d begun to stay up most nights, trying his best to stay away from the dreams that had become a part of his life. Of watching those he loved hurt by the Dark Lord, seeing innocent children hurt.. simply for their blood status. Why had he supported and upheld such beliefs for so long? Now.. it was too late to change anything, it seemed.

But when he came back for his winter holidays, life at the Manor was worse as ever.

It was even more bleak than it had been the year before. Not only was there a lack of grandeur or joy around the place, but he was also forced to continue to serve the Dark Lord. And, of course, not only that but the Death Eaters had begun to use their cellars to trap.. civilians. Not people they’d suspected of being in the Order of the Phoenix, not people who’d been actively badmouthing You-Know-Who, but just.. problem citizens. He’d known that they’d even plucked out Loony Lovegood from the Hogwarts Express during the holidays and kept her there because her father was being difficult about the stories published in The Quibbler. 

But he was surprised to see even more people gathered around in the cellars the one time his aunt let him take gruel to the prisoners. There were so many old people (whom he assumed had provided safe houses for escaping Mudbloods) and even younger couples (who he suspected were cross-breeding, in the Death Eater’s eyes). There were even a few families in sight, young children gathered around in circles playing some sort of game. He seemed to recognise a small, ferrety looking man with his wife and children to be someone he’d seen in the Magical Maintenance department, but he couldn’t exactly be sure.. 

But what surprised him the most, and the least, at the same time, was that there were actual Hogwarts students down there, or.. ex-students, rather. There was no one he recognised to be in Dumbledore’s Army in the years prior, but people he assumed had been standing out of line. Or perhaps just people the Carrows or Snape had lost their patience for. He’d heard of a few incidents at school and had realised that the Death Eaters had forced the perpetrators out of Hogwarts, but he didn’t realise that they would truly kidnap them the way they had. 

He couldn’t really understand what good it did to keep the innocents there the way they had. It didn’t make much sense at all. What good would it do to trap these people here and hurt them to pass the time? It’s not like they were doing anything but trying to save others, or attempting to escape from the Dark Lord’s wrath. It made him feel all the more guilty and powerless.

That was until, he decided he could take the slightest bit of action. He’d been sent to give them gruel again but felt guilt swirling in his stomach as he heard a child crying, asking when they could finally get home. He watched the child’s mother console him and was suddenly reminded of his family’s own current plight. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pulled the child’s parents to the side and told them he’d help them get out. And soon enough, at an opportune moment when he felt no one was being too wary over the prisoners, he showed them the way out of the cellar and told them the way to the nearest town, the safest one he could think of. 

There wasn’t exactly anyone keeping track of who or what went in and out of the cellar to begin with. It was just the goblin, Ollivander and the Lovegood girl his people seemed to remember, everyone else they’d pick and choose out of to torture when they were getting bored. So, he felt his actions were simply for the greater good. The Dark Lord wouldn’t need to worry about taking care of these folk then, would he? Or at least, that’s what he said he’d say if he was actually found out.

He tried and did this every few days over the holidays, sneaking out the people who seemed the most vulnerable at that point. All the prisoners noticed him taking the risk he was and acknowledged it, even acted politely towards him whenever he came into the dungeons. (Which he suspected was also a bit more to get into his good books.)

Soon enough, he returned to Hogwarts for another unpleasant term. Everything only seemed to be getting worse. Practically all the students who’d been suspected to be a part of ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ had gone into hiding. He’d noticed the clear Longbottom shaped hole in the classes they’d had together. He often wondered to himself whether there was any chance he’d been forced back to Malfoy Manor like so many others. He shuddered thinking about it, even though he’d never had so much as a positive thought towards the bloke up till that point.

His classes were clearly emptier. Many children didn’t return after the holidays, afraid of ending up like so many others who’d been tortured endlessly. Again, he wondered if this was a rumor the Carrows had spread after whisking off some of them to the Manor. 

Before he knew it, it was time for Easter break. He returned to his ‘home’ quite reluctantly, afraid of what else was in store after each visit seemed to gradually get worser. He visited the cellar and it was as full as ever. There were clearly a lot more students there, most of them younger than him, looking frail and poorly.

He noticed only another student from the same year as him.. Y/N Y/L/N. Their paths had never really crossed much. They’d always had classes together here and there, but they’d only exchanged a couple of words. He didn’t know exactly what to say to her. He never remembered her being a part of the D.A. or anything like that. She wasn’t really close with Potter or his fellows either. He’d noted she’d stopped coming into class, but had assumed it was because her parents feared for her or something. He wasn’t exactly why she was here in the first place, but it’s not like he had time to stop and chat.

Even though he would have liked to help her out of the place, there always seemed to be somebody else who took precedence, be it an elderly couple who looked like they were about to take their last breaths, or a second year Hufflepuff who looked absolutely distraught. 

A few days before he had to board the Express back to the castle, he decided to help out another student. After handing out another daily helping of gruel, he noticed a Gryffindor student who couldn’t have been much older than thirteen lying curled up in a corner of the room, crying. He noticed Y/N beside him, trying her best to brighten his spirits, but he lay as he was, sobbing out. 

He waved over to Y/L/N and had her shift away, going up to the child himself. Of course.. he wasn’t exactly one to console others, so he leaned down and patted him on his back until he finally became calmer. As soon as the coast was clear, he helped the boy up and led him out the cellar. He took him through the back door into the gardens, reaching the edge of the fence. He told him the directions to the nearest safe town and reassured him of his fate. He was just about to push him through when he felt a hand firmly grab hold of the back of his shirt. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” A rough, raspy voice called out, another hand gripping at his hair. Dolohov.. Draco’s back arched at this and his eyes began to water in pain. 

“N-nothing… nothing at all.” He’d been caught red handed and he knew it. There was no way out of this. 

“The Dark Lord will be so proud of one of his fools letting out our prisoners.” He recognised Yaxley’s voice.

“You-you can’t do anything to me! This is my house!” Draco managed out.

“Let’s see what your aunt has to say about that.” The hand pulled him further back and his glassy eyes locked with the men’s cold, unforgiving ones. 

Before he knew it, they’d dragged him all the way back to the lounge, and were just about to begin roughing him up when finally, Bellatrix arrived. 

“What are you doing to him?” She called out, strutting over to the scene. It wasn’t long before his own parents arrived, and soon the rest of the Lord’s army.

“He’s been betraying us! As good as a blood traitor he is.” Yaxley responded, balling his hands into fists as he glared down at the boy. “It wasn’t-” 

“He was.. betraying the Dark Lord?” Bellatrix interrupted Draco, not even meeting his gaze. He looked over at his parents, but they just looked shocked at the scene playing out in front of them.

Dolohov kicked Draco in the side and he whimpered in pain, reaching down to clutch at where he was sure a bruise would begin to form.

“He was helping prisoners out of the cellar!” Bellatrix’s eyes widened and she quickly grabbed ahold of him. “How could you? You insolent brat! You’ve let down the Lord already!” Draco’s lower lip began to wobble as he began contemplating what lay ahead of him. He really shouldn’t have risked it to save all those people..

She slapped him across the face, her long, sharp nails like claws against his skin. He fell to the ground, already growing weak. 

“Take his wand and throw him in the cellar with the others. His fate will be decided on later.”

One of the men carried him off to the cellar entrance and flung him inside, grabbing his wand from his pocket. “It’s what you deserve! To live like them!” Draco fell to the ground with a thud as the door slammed. Draco began to come up with a retort. “You’ll-You’ll all pay-”  He felt a striking pain in his shoulder as he landed on it, then slowly sat up again, gulping and gripping it to somehow relieve himself of the tension he was feeling.

But there was absolutely no way to. 

He’d managed to screw up his family’s reputation worse than it was already with the Dark Lord and his followers. And this was.. like salt in their wounds. He’d been a bit taken aback over the fact that his parents hadn’t even tried to defend him up there. They’d always seemed to be there to take care of him but perhaps.. this time had really gone too far. He was simply the author of his own misfortune.

He suddenly realised that all of the prisoners were watching him. He looked up, silvery eyes flitting from side to side, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. “I.. I managed to help him out. He-he’ll make it. The Death Eaters didn’t get to him.” He reassured everyone, but some continued to look over at him. What was he supposed to say to them? Any hope they might have had was certainly diminished with him being tossed in here the way he had been. He just sighed and shifted off towards a corner, hugging his knees and setting his pointed chin on them.

He could feel fear filling him up to the brim. There was no end to the terrible implications him getting caught would have. Merlin could only hope they didn’t find out about all the others he’d helped out as well. He shut his eyes tightly and shuddered, soon beginning to feel tears well up in his eyes. He let them drip down his face, bringing his palms onto his cheeks to hide them from anyone who might be watching. 

Suddenly, he heard the soft patter of steps near him. He swiped away the tears on his face and looked up. It was.. Y/L/N. What could she possibly have to say to him? He’d let her down by not helping her out of the place, goddammit, he’d let her down by bringing the Death Eaters into the castle the year before. He’d let everyone down! He sniffled slightly and forced himself to look up at her. Her face was.. clearly a bit sorrowful. 

She was sporting a pink jumper and some blue jeans, all of which had since grown a bit dishevelled and had torn at places, leaving patches she couldn’t mend without her wand. Her face looked a bit more gaunt as well. She’d certainly not been able to eat well, what with, only the daily serving of a bowl of gruel to all of them. She must not have seen the sun in a while either, and of course, she must have been as stressed as any of the others, anticipating extreme pain at all times. 

“Draco?” She asked, softly, and he realised he’d been staring straight at her for a second. “You-you were really brave. To help all the others the way you did, I mean.” She bit down on her lip and put her hands into her pockets, fiddling along. She was clearly a bit nervous in front of him, and he couldn’t exactly blame her. 

He felt his ears heat up at her comment. Why was she being so kind to him? He’d done absolutely nothing for her thus far. Was she expecting him to make it out of this all healthy and help prisoners out of the place again? “Really. We’ll never forget what you did for the rest of them. And they’ll definitely never forget your sacrifice.” He took a deep breath before responding himself. A shaky “Thank you.” was all he could manage out.

She nodded at him, then looked down at him curiously. She had to know he was likely awaiting for one of the Death Eaters to come down and call him up to be executed. “Are you alright?” She asked him, pressing her lips together. He just nodded and looked up at her, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. She gave him a weak smile and slowly turned to leave, deciding to give the boy his space. 

Before he knew it, he felt tears trickling down his cheeks again, wetting his trouser covered knees. He sniffled a bit loudly for his taste, bringing his hands up to hide his slowly reddening face. He was going to die. To die! How could he just accept it? His death would not only mean sorrow for his family, but likely despair for all the prisoners around him. All of whom were innocents who’d been caught trying to do something for the greater good. In that moment, he felt more fearful towards death than for anything else. 

He heard the same patter of steps and felt a warm body crouch down in front of him.

“I-It’s clear you aren’t alright..” The same voice called out, so soft it was barely even a whisper. 

“I’m just fine.” He managed out again, trying his absolute best to compartmentalise his thoughts. He’d been successful with it for Occlumency! Why couldn’t he do it when awaiting impending doom?

He heard her shift and sit down beside him, leaning up against the wall herself. She stared at his shaking figure for a few seconds before beginning to speak herself. “D’you.. want a hug?”

He was more alarmed at what she said than how she sat beside him. He looked up at her, tears still threatening to continue to spill. “What?” He croaked out. She couldn’t possibly have said that to him! He’s a Death Eater, for god’s sake. Regardless of what he’s done since. 

“Would you like a hug?” She eyed him nervously, then looked down at her lap. “They’re scientifically proven to make you feel better.” Draco gulped down the lumps forming in his throat, slowly mustering up the courage to meet her own gaze. Her expression was surprisingly tender, almost pitiful towards him. He squinted at her before nodding politely. “O-only if you want to… you don’t have to.” He sniffled again, bringing his hands up to rub his wet eyes with his knuckles. 

“I do want to. Don’t worry..” She reached over and set a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently. “I’d like it if you felt better.. and exchanging the slightest of body heat isn’t the worst sacrifice to give.” She smiled again and Draco managed a curt one himself. She shifted closer towards him and swallowed audibly herself. She gently placed her palms on his upper arms, and he slowly set his own round her waist. She brought her arms further upwards, around his neck. He almost had to stop himself from continuing to shiver at first, but felt himself grow warmer at her touch. She shifted further towards him, bringing him into a tighter embrace, their chests pressed up together as she set her chin over his shoulder. He couldn’t even bring himself to remember the last time someone had hugged him, or the last time he’d felt this intimate with someone. 

He could feel all the nerves that had had him all buzzed beginning to relax as she gently rubbed her hands on his back. She brought a hand onto the back of his neck and let her fingers toy gently with the ends of his hair. He could feel the original rigidity of his body give away, practically like putty in her warm, gentle arms. “Thank you.” He managed out again, although that same nervous lurch in his stomach hadn’t wavered. 

He held onto her a little tighter, and thankfully, she didn’t seem to want to detach herself from him either. He clung to her as if for dear life, and felt the corners of his lips quirking up slightly as she brought her face into the crook of his neck. He gently set his head atop hers and took a deep, deep breath. He’d want to try and recreate the overwhelming sense of comfort this brought to him somehow later on. Y/N certainly wouldn’t want to do this kind of thing again after they were out of crisis. 

He could feel his eyelids begin to droop, growing heavier and heavier with each breath. Had she cast a spell on him? On a normal day, the fear of certain death would give him anxiety to no end.. but somehow.. today, he wanted nothing but to continue holding the girl in his arms and that the higher powers above them would somehow realise their own faults with justice. He hoped and prayed to whatever was out there that the other prisoners would be able to make it out of the place unharmed, especially Y/N. 

Suddenly, she shifted back slightly, beginning to draw her arms back. “P-please don’t go.” He managed out, holding onto her how a baby would to its mother. “Please.. I.. I’m s-so scared.” He stuttered uncharacteristically, the fear of losing her touch on him driving him jittery with fear again. She moved closer to him again, nodding. “I-I won’t..” 

He sighed as he burrowed his head into the area between her neck and her shoulder this time, slight tears beginning to drip out of his eyes. “I don’t want to die.. I really don’t. It must.. must sound so greedy of me.. but I really don’t want to.. “ He felt his tears drip onto her skin and onto her clothing. She should have had some adverse reaction but she didn’t show it. 

She brought her hand into his hair, stroking through it very softly. He sniffled yet again, his tongue beginning to feel heavy in his mouth. “It’s not greedy.. It really isn’t. No one here wants you to die, Draco. No one here wants you hurt at all.” She leaned over and pressed the lightest peck to the top of his pale blonde head. It was so soft Draco thought he’d imagined it. “You deserve better, Draco. You’ve.. saved so many people from here. Really. They’d all be beyond thankful to you.. after all this boils over.” If it does. He couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit skeptical.. why was she trying to be so goddamn nice? It made no sense.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He forced his tears to slow down and held her closer, trying his best to remember what she felt like. If there would be some way to emulate it when he was past this realm of existence. She didn’t say another word, but continued to hold him as softly as she could. Y/N’s own soft breaths slowly lulled Draco to sleep, his usually horror-stricken dreams full of anticipation as to what truly awaited him when he woke up.

Part II

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Bertrand does his Best

As the Volunteers cheerfully sang, the children sat on the floor of the van, chatting amongst themselves. 

“What does it feel like?” Isadora asked, as she hugged Duncan close to her. 

Duncan bit his lip, feeling a bit smothered. “It started out really hot, and then it felt really cold. And like… I think the most pain was right after the knife came out. Now my shoulder just feels really sore.” 

“Hopefully we can help with that.” Klaus said. “Our plan is to sign you in under a pseudonym, to get you treatment from someone who’s not a thirteen-year-old boy.” 

“But you did a good job.” Duncan said. 

Violet blinked. “Klaus, you’re twelve.” 

“I’ve got, what, three days?” Klaus shrugged. “Then I’m an adult.” 

“No, then you’re a teenager.” Violet sighed. “We were planning such cool shit for your little- what did Father call it? ‘Private family bar mitzvah.’” 

Klaus smiled. “Well, don’t tell me, maybe we’ll have Olaf dead in time for you to pull that off.” 

“Not likely.” Violet said. “There were a lot of balloons.” 

“I don’t know if I like the idea of me getting signed in alone.” Duncan interrupted. “We said we weren’t gonna split up.” 

“We’ll follow you to your room,” Violet said, “When the doctors leave you alone, Isadora will stay with you to make sure nothing happens, and the rest of us will duck down the Library of Records. Just check it out real quick, find out where that Baudelaire File is.” 

“Again, splitting up.” 

“But with the knowledge of where the other’s supposed to be at all times.” Klaus said. “Besides, Olaf is far behind us.” 

The Volunteers got out of the van, cheering and singing, and the kids stayed to the back of the group, glancing at the hospital, only half of which was completed. 

“Well that makes me feel good.” Isadora muttered. 

“I’m sure they’ll finish it someday,” they heard the head of the volunteers say joyfully, “But in the meantime, we can picture the other half, and picturing something makes it so!” 

“Okay,” Klaus whispered, as they all edged toward the hospital doors, “So we’re in, what, a new age cult?” 

“I’m gonna guess antivaxxer.” Violet shrugged. 

The volunteers headed inside and started down a hall, while Violet simply directed them towards a receptionist desk. The woman there glanced up. “Hello?” 

“Hello. Our brother has been stabbed and we’d like to check him in for treatment.” Violet said, making her voice sound lower than usual. “We gave him a bit of medication ourselves but there’s only so much we children can do.” 

The receptionist sighed, and stood up. “We’ve got an open room in the Stab Ward, you’re lucky. Come along, and one of our doctors will be there shortly.” 

Violet nodded, and quickly grabbed Klaus’s hand, as Klaus picked up Sunny. “Alright.” 

Beatrice leaned against her husband and tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness. 

She’d woken up just as they were being chained to the wall, but didn’t dare try to fight, knowing they’d just hurt Bertrand, they’d hurt Quigley, they’d torture them anyway. She could hear Olaf’s bragging, but only processed enough to know they were doomed- blah blah soundproof basement, blah blah left the firetruck right where those fucking singers pick up gas blah blah don’t worry about leaving them together, they should know better than to try anything by now. 

They did. 

When Bertrand awoke, Beatrice didn’t say anything, she just leaned up against him, and he put an arm around her. They could actually reach each other here, and Beatrice wondered for a while if that was due to a lack of space, but once she managed to get used to the darkness, she realized that, no, they were in a huge room. There were a few scattered shelves, a few cardboard boxes, and then several poles supporting the ceiling, on two of which the Baudelaires were chained. 

Bertrand muttered some observations every now and again. They were probably in a cellar. He could see bottles in that box, they could be in a hospital. It didn’t matter to Beatrice at the moment. Nothing did, so she just let the numbness surround her, let herself lean on her husband for however little time they’d let her have him. He ran his hands through her hair a bit, detangling and brushing as best he could, and Beatrice played with the edge of his jacket, letting the thick fabric roll between her fingers. 

After what felt like forever, Bertrand squeezed her shoulder, and leaned his head against hers, and then said, “Beatrice, we have to keep going.” 

She shook her head. “There’s no point.” 

“Our kids are still out there, and they need us.” 

“He’ll just catch them and kill them like he caught us again, and he took Quigley away. I don’t even know where he is right now.” 

“Beatrice…” Bertrand shut his eyes. “I miss Lemony, too.” 

She fell silent. 

“But we have to go on.” 

She remained silent. 

“Do you remember, when we were sixteen-” 

“Please don’t.” 

“What?” 

“Please. Don’t.” Beatrice buried her head into her husband’s shoulder, muffling her voice slightly. “Don’t. Don’t make me remember.” 

“Bea.” 

“We don’t have a future, Bertrand, and we’ve lost our past. So now we just wait to die and see him again.” 

“Absolutely not. Bea, absolutely not.” Bertrand pulled away from her, and she flinched, feeling too cold and too lonely until he grabbed her shoulders, trying to get her to look him in the face. “We’re not dying here. We’re not letting him win.” 

“He already has.” 

“Bea, Lemony’s gone,” his voice broke, and he stared at the ground, trying not to cry. “He’s gone but we can keep going. We’ve known he was gone-” 

“It’s different now.” 

“I know it is, Bea. I know we- we know for a fact he’s never coming back to us. But you know what? If we had died, he would’ve pressed on for us. Especially if our kids needed him.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

“And we never will. But we know that we still have him.” Bertrand pressed a hand to her cheek. “We still have our kids.” 

Beatrice shut her eyes, and then whispered, “How are we supposed to face them? So much has happened-” 

“We just need to get them safe. That’s all we can do.” 

“Nowhere is safe.” Beatrice’s voice finally betrayed emotion, finally betrayed her distraught trembling, as her words shook and she blinked tears down her cheeks. “The world’s treachery washes up on every shore. We can’t keep them safe, and we can’t even get out of here, so we might as well just accept it.” 

“Bea, please, don’t lose hope.” 

“We don’t have the luxury of hope!” Beatrice shouted, and then she couldn’t stop the tears, and she kept shaking and almost falling over, only held upright by her husband. “We don’t have anything!” 

“Beatrice, hope’s not a luxury, it’s the only thing you can have when everything else is gone.” 

“Don’t!” Beatrice sobbed. “Don’t sound like him!” 

Bertrand hugged her, and she just trembled and felt her cheeks burn as her body wracked with sobs and all she could do was let her husband hold her. He stopped speaking, stopped telling her it would be okay, but he pressed his face against hers and stroked her arms and just let her feel him there. 

It felt like an hour before her tears ran out, and she just rocked back and forth, Bertrand still refusing to let her go. He was probably the only person in her life who hadn’t let her go. She eventually moved her arms up to hug him back, and he finally whispered, “You’ve never given up, Bea. Nothing can break you. Don’t let this.” 

She gripped his jacket, and then whispered, “Violet has his eyes.” 

“Yes.” 

“Klaus has his voice.” 

“Yes.” 

“Sunny has his laugh.” she allowed herself the smallest smile. “How did that even happen?” 

“The magic of bisexuality.” 

“Bertrand.” she stroked his arm, and then pulled away, pressing her forehead against his. “Violet walks like you. She paces and skips the same way. Did you ever notice that?” 

“No.” 

“Klaus squints like you,” Beatrice continued, grabbing his hand, “When he’s angry or focusing or tired. You and him flap your hands from up-and-down instead of side-to-side like Violet.” 

“Is that so?” 

“And Sunny looks just like you. She pretty much just stole your face.” Beatrice let herself laugh a second. 

Bertrand let her laugh, and then he said, “Violet has your determination. Your protectiveness, of everyone you love. And Klaus has your hair and your eyes and your… how do I put this?” 

“Impulsivity?” 

“Sure, yeah. And Sunny… she just has your fire, Bea.” 

Beatrice shut her eyes. “They’re all of us.” 

“All of us. They’re our babies. And we-” 

The door slammed open, and Bertrand shut up as fast as he could. He whipped his head towards the door, squinting in the sudden light, pressing his wife closer to him. But she looked up, looked to the doorway just in time to see Olaf drag the boy in behind them. 

“We’ve finished with the Quagmire boy for now,” he said simply, walking across the room as they saw Quigley stumble behind him, his feet barely keeping any form of balance, “So he’ll be here until it’s time for the big show we have planned.” 

“Quigley?” Beatrice’s eyes widened, and she tried to move forwards, but as Olaf shut a clamp around the boy’s leg, she found that she was, as was normal, just out of reach. “Quigley!” 

“What did you do?” Bertrand said, his voice only just above a gasp. “What did you do to him?” 

“Quigley!” 

“Leave him alone- Olaf-” 

“God, you two never shut up, do you?” Olaf sighed. He locked Quigley’s clamp, and then stood. “We’ll have some fun in a little while, but for now we have to go fetch a surprise for you. Play nice.” 

“What did you do to him?” Bertrand demanded, his eyes following Olaf as the man shrugged and walked out. “What did you- no!” 

“Quigley!” 

Quigley wasn’t responding. Their eyes had to re-adjust to the dark once the door slammed shut, but they could tell he was huddled against the pole he was chained to, and he appeared to be shaking. 

Beatrice, desperate, stretched as far as she could. She ended up practically laying on her stomach, reaching out her arm as far as it would go, desperately trying to grab his hand. 

Then, slowly, Quigley reached out an arm, and they barely managed to touch fingertips. Beatrice could feel him trembling now, and she just said, “Quigley, Quigley we’re so sorry… we’re so sorry, what happened? What did they do to you?” 

Quigley opened his mouth to respond, and all that came out was a cry. 

Beatrice and Bertrand both choked back their own sobs, and Beatrice tried desperately to reach farther, to grab his hand, to tell him everything was going to be okay. To lie to him no matter how recently she herself had fallen into nothingness. 

“Quigley, we’re right here. We won’t let him hurt you again.” Bertrand choked out, also reaching out though he knew he was even farther than Beatrice was. “Quigley?” 

Quigley started crying more loudly, trying and failing to stretch farther, unable to do more than reach and sob. For a while, the Baudelaires were silent, just letting him know they were there, just reaching out to show they were trying, that they would do their best to comfort him. 

“Quigley…” Beatrice finally whispered. “We’re here. We’re sorry.” 

Bertrand shut his eyes a moment, and when he opened them again, he reached again and said, “Is there anything we can do?” 

Quigley cried a little quieter, still stretching to touch Beatrice’s fingertips, and after what had to be minutes, in which he struggled to calm down enough to speak, he finally had one request. 

“C-can you… can you say the- the poem again?” 

His voice was scratchy, broken, and tired, he sounded so tired, but there was a desperation in there. Please, please just say the poem again. 

Beatrice started crying again, distraught at his pleading but trying to smile for his sake as she brushed against his hand. Bertrand also started to cry, but he managed to keep his tears silent, hoping that Quigley wouldn’t notice. 

Slowly, he nodded. 

“It was s-six men of Indoostan To learning much inclined Who… who went to see the elephant…”

[katobobato]

In which you Jin reminisce about your childhood memories and how you slowly fell in love.

pairing: jin x reader

fluff, angst, oneshot

warnings: none :)

word count: 1748 words

rating: G

Today had been just any old normal day. You and your long-term boyfriend turned fiancé, Jin, were discussing your wedding plans with your parents once again. You and your mother were discussing who would sit with who. Obviously, you both decided to separate Jin and Jungkook, at least for the meal. Neither of you wants to put up with that chaotic duo more than you had to. Your father and Jin, however, were just sitting around and discussing the bachelor party plans.

Your parents were about to leave but not before your mum quickly slipped a little something out of her bag. You had wondered why she had such a big bag with her and now you knew, she was hiding a whole photo album in there. She had passed it to you as she backed out of the door, blowing kisses to you and Jin as your father beckoned her along saying that they would be seeing you again in a few days anyway and need to get going because it’s getting late.

You closed the door behind you and sighed, “I love them, but they really do drain you”.

“They’re just excited”. Jin explained upon wrapping you into a hug and resting his head on top of yours.

You moved away from the hug when you remembered the book that you were now hugging against your own chest, “I wonder what mum has put together this time”.

You had assumed it would be cute little baby pictures of you because that was what she normally did. At every new milestone in your life, she had put together a little collection of baby pictures just to remind you that you were still her little girl.

She had done it when you began high school, again when you graduated, then again when moved out and went to college. It was tradition.

You tried to insist that you would look through it tomorrow but Jin had whined like the giant child he is and grabbed the book out of your hands, running over to the sofa and opening the pages in hopes of finding more cute pictures of baby you.

You had gathered that he had found something unexpected from how quiet he was from the moment his eyes landed on the first page.

“What is it? What did she do this time?”. You chuckled, flicking the main light off and making your way over to sit beside him.

“I’m in this one too”.

You flicked the lamp on and snuggled up into Jin as he positioned you between his arms so that you could see the pages too.

He was right. He is in this one too.

Pictures of both of you as babies and as you turned the pages you found that each page held a different year of memories. You kept going, cooing at how cute you both were, until you reached around the time you had met.

“Woah, the first day of school”. Jin exclaimed, pointing to the pictures of the both of you in your brand-new uniforms for your first day of high school.

It was the day you two first met.

“Don’t worry sweety, you’ll make plenty of friends”. Your mother insisted, ushering you closer to the intimidatingly tall doors of the school.

“But what if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them?”. You asked, the anxiety kicking in.

Your mother once again reassured you that you were going to make plenty of friends and gave you one final hug before waving you off as you walked through the doors with the flood of other students.

It took an excruciatingly long five minutes before you made a friend. Not long after that, your new friend had introduced you to her friends and the small group of you quickly turned into a big group.

In that big group, was Jin.

You thought he was overdramatic, obnoxious and absolutely hilarious. You were fast friends, to say the least.

You were friends but not that close, not close enough to hang out without some of the others. No, that came later.

“We were so tiny”. Jin chuckled.

“And so awkward”. You joined in his laughter.

You then flipped to the next page, your second year of being friends. It was about the same as the first, you had grown used to each other, but your big group had split up into many smaller ones. You in one and Jin in another.

A few pages later and you were in photos together again.

Your transition from children to awkward teens almost complete as you neared the middle of your high school days.

By the summer all of your friends knew that you had a crush on him and all of his knew about his crush on you. The two of you, however, were oblivious. Both stealing glances of the other every now and then throughout lessons and even gatherings between your friends.

By the summer, Heejin, your first friend, had set you and Jin up on a date.

“I wonder where she is”. You pondered out loud, awkwardly trying to create conversation with your crush as the two of you waited for your friend.

She never came. Just a message of apology and that you and Jin should just hang out together.

That was when you knew what she had done. Silly Heejin.

Well, you had thought silly Heejin as you expected to be too awkward to actually hang out with Jin on your own. That, however, was not the case.

His constant stupid dad jokes and determination to make you laugh cast away all of the tension you had been feeling at first like a magical spell.

That day, your first ‘date’ was always engraved into your memories.

You had hung out all-day, laughing and chatting together for hours on end. You had walked all around the town and were glad to have brought your camera.

Dozens of photos of the two of you.

A photo of Jin happily chasing a flock of pigeons.

A photo of you with ice cream on your nose after Jin had comedically shoved it into your face when you went to take a bite. You could still smell the vanilla.

Photos of the pair of you hanging upside down on the monkey bars at the park after dark.

Photos that were now in this book. All neatly collected together with cute little doodles reminiscing the old times covering the blank spaces between the paper memories.

Jin softly stroked your hair as you took command of the book, flipping over to the next page.

Graduation. You were finally almost adults about to embark on your journey to college.

You had been dating for a year at that point, an official couple.

“What are we going to do?”. Your voice sounded distraught, desperate, almost hopeless.

Jin stepped closer, brushing your hair behind your ear. His hand lingering beside your cheek.

“Don’t worry, long distance can work. We’ll be together again before you know it”. He reassured, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Jin was going to college in Busan, you in Incheon. Sure, it was only a two or so hour flight but you were going to be busy with your studies not to mention tight on money.

He really made you think it was possible and for the first year, it was.

By your second it was just too hard. You had an argument about something silly, decided that your relationship must come to an end and he hung up.

The empty beeps on the other end of the line were enough to send waterfalls falling down your cheeks.

His hand made its way to yours, squeezing lightly as you both remembered the ill-fated past.

You turned the page.

Christmas at home, without Jin.

It was miserable but you wouldn’t show it. In every photo, you would be laughing or smiling but there was always something missing. The joy in your eyes.

That Christmas was a sad one. Passing in a slow blur of twinkling lights and joyful melodies.

It took another couple of page turns before the pit in your stomach started to feel warm again.

Four years of college over, finally coming home.

Back without Jin.

You unpacked your things, living in your own apartment upon your return.

Your parents had left for merely five minutes before the door knocked again.

Mum must have forgotten something, you thought.

You hadn’t expected him to be on the other side of that door.

Nor had you expected to be kissed so passionately the day you returned.

“I’m so so sorry”. He mumbled, hugging you so tightly you could barely breathe.

After a moment, you hugged him back.

His thumb grazed over the back of your hand, his head resting in your hair.

The next few pages displayed some of the best years of your life. You and Jin, together again.

Spending Christmas together with both of your families. Laughter and joy. Cuddles near the fire.

The final page, the day Jin proposed.

He was down on one knee and you knew what was coming, “Y/n, will you marry me?”.

“No”. You stated so abruptly that even he was caught off guard.

He looked shocked, worried, scared.

Until you laughed. Laughed hard.

“Of course, I will”. You giggled, proud of your amusing joke.

“Really”. His face lit up once again.

All you could do was nod and giggle to yourself as he swept you up in a hug, spinning you around.

How cliché. How perfect.

And here you are now, ogling the new shiny ring on your finger.

You closed the book, leaving the blank pages to be filled another day.

“I love you”. You announced softly, nuzzling back into his chest.

He pressed a light kiss to the top of your head, placing the photo album to the side and swiftly wrapping his arms around you again.

“I know, who wouldn’t love me? I’m just so handsome”.

You spun around, slapping his arm as he snickered happily.

“I love you too”. He chuckled, finally giving you the answer, you wanted with tears in his eyes.

You shook your head at his childishness and closed your eyes.

Content between the warm arms of your fiancé, you fell asleep wondering what the future holds for the two of you.

[ofheroesandvillains]

Changing Gears 2 - Tony Stark

Tony Stark/Fem!reader Words: 3.8k Warnings: None really, mentions of “The Cave”. Summary: I said one for each movie and I lied. Don’t trust me…ever. Here’s another for Ironman 1! It’s kind of all over the place. Let me know if it’s trash, it’s been a loooong time.

(not my gif!)

Fear.

Fear wasn’t foreign to you. Your earliest encounter with it came at age 4. Now remember, you stay where I can see you, your father had said, and under no circumstances are you to go in the water without letting an adult know. He’d given you a stern look, one that seemed more at home on Howard’s face than his own. Understood? He’d asked, and you’d nodded.

But things never really go the way they’re supposed to. One minute you’re on the shoreline, digging a little pool into the wet sand, the next, the water is sweeping you away into its cold embrace and you’re left bobbing between the waves. The floaties kept you up, sure, but with each passing second the tide had carried you further and further from the shore, and your desperate cries for your father went unheard.

Or at least you thought they had.

“Hey, it’s alright, I got you. Just- just hold onto me, okay?”

He had no idea how to comfort a wailing child, but even at age 12, Tony Stark did the best he could. What seemed like miles to you (and was more likely a few feet), was quickly wadded through by the boy you’d only met once before.

He didn’t tell your father. It was a lesson learned and you were just a kid, he’d be damned if anyone punished you for their own neglect. You looked terrified and clung to him like a koala, he hadn’t left your side for the rest of the day. That was the day you became his friend. That was the day he became your hero.

---------

That seemed so silly now…drowning. How could the fear of drowning possibly compare to this?

If you took every fear you’d ever felt, stacked them on top of each other and played them in a never-ending loop in your mind for the rest of your life, it’d be a welcome change to the absolute terror that had seized your heart the moment you’d been notified of Tony’s disappearance.

Naturally, the media had lost its mind as soon as a statement was released. Posters, social media, tabloids, the news; everyone was talking about Tony Stark - the billionaire, the genius, the national icon, in the hands of ‘the enemy’. Activists were saying ‘good riddance’, and weeping fans littered the daily news channels, mourning a man they’d never known…a man who you couldn’t -wouldn’t- believe was really gone.

He’s Tony Stark, you’d remind yourself, there’s nothing he can’t do.

Realistically, you knew that the chances of his survival were slim. Your overactive mind had already tried to calculate the odds before you forced it to focus elsewhere. There was still a company to run, reporters to avoid, a billionaire to find.

Pepper took care of the first two for you, but only you could help with the last. She’d been great, Pepper. A godsend. There were hardly any fumes left for you to run on. Sweeping the planet for any sign of Tony was draining; mentally and emotionally. If Pepper hadn’t been there to all but spoon-feed you and tuck you into bed, you likely would have ended up in the ER weeks ago. I’m turning into Tony, you’d wryly thought. But the thought itself just made you miss the man even more.  

If anyone had it worse than you, it was probably Rhodey. He’d been more distraught than you’d ever seen him, and after all he’d experienced in his life and his career, that was certainly saying something. But it gave you someone who understood, someone who’d work long into the night with you to try and find a man you both refused to live without.

---------

“Why do you always make this so hard?”

Glassy eyes, pursed lips, drooping shoulders. You looked broken.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so drunk that night he would have understood what you meant. The alcohol never bothered you, not really. You’d scold him for it, take him home, tuck him in, leave Advil and a glass of water on his bedside table, and then repeat it all the next weekend. He’d take advantage of your kindness, because that’s what he did. He hurt the people closest to him.

He loved them, he’d do anything for them…but sometimes his self-depreciation outweighed that love. His whole life had been built on money and fame. He was used to getting what he wanted and the moment something threatened the status quo, he lashed out.

Years later, he would look back and barely remember that night. You hadn’t spoken to him for days afterward and that was the only reason he even cared to remember it at all. There were snippets of memories in his head; a man - a good-looking one, standing a little too close to you at an event, an irrational anger, an argument, and a bruised jaw the morning after.

He’d made excuses and begged for forgiveness, how could he not? Deep down Tony knew what emotion had fuelled him that night, and it was one he’d never expected to feel when he looked at you with someone else. It didn’t change anything, he told himself. In fact, he was hellbent on ensuring it didn’t. You’d told him to stop bringing his flings home, and he’d tried, he really had. But if he didn’t have them then he’d think of you, and he couldn’t ruin you like that.

So, he ignored your warnings and descended even further into his playboy lifestyle. The less he saw you, the more distant you became, and while it tore at him day in and day out, it was for the best. You’d both drifted from each other, but alcohol was the band-aid he slapped on that particular bullet wound.

You were the straight-laced, responsible one. You worked hard and saved face in the media when he inevitably screwed up. You looked after him even if it made your life harder.

Tony was a lot like you in the early days. He wanted to make his parents proud, but that all changed when he realised that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough for his father.

Somewhere along the road you’d both diverged from each other. A fork in the road that led you closer to heaven and him closer to hell.

But after that night, Tony had realised that this was more a crossroad than anything else. You were too good for him, he’d never hurt you by pursing a relationship. He didn’t do relationships. But god, did he hate the thought of you with anyone else.

He’d be okay with not having you, as long as nobody else could have you either.

“What the hell is your problem? What did you say to him?”

“I dunno what you mean…we were all ou’ here havin’ a good time, weren’t we girls?”

His entourage chirped like silicone baby birds, desperate for their mama’s attention. Your jaw clenched so hard at the smug grin Tony shot your way, that you almost chipped a tooth.

Ten minutes ago you’d been so close, so close, to finally taking that first step out of the hold he had on you and agreeing to a date. He was a nice boy, a handsome boy, one your mother would have gushed over. But like a vulture circling its next meal, Tony somehow knew just where to find you. His hold was iron. Sometimes you thought that his heart was too, because no matter how much it hurt, he’d never release you.

“Oh come on, sweetheart…” Tony tried rolling his eyes but his entire head followed. “What, you think you were gonna live happily ever after with the baby-faced real estate agent? Really?” He scoffed. “You could do better.”

“Sometimes you can’t help who you love, Tony.” You’d snapped. You’d said too much, but he wouldn’t remember it anyway.

Tony barked a laugh, and his baby birds followed.

“Love? Who’s talkin’ about love? There’s no love here, no ma’am!”

They all laughed again.

Your shoulders dropped, your lips pursed, and you felt the familiar sting at your eyes. You felt broken.

“Why do you always make this so hard?”

--------- Time was a funny thing. All of those nights he’d spent drinking and partying and hunting his next bedmate seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye. But here, in the dark, in the cold, in the wet, he could have sworn that it had been years since he’d arrived.

He’d wasted so much time.

The pain in his chest hadn’t eased up, he didn’t know if it ever would. The Doc had done an incredible job considering the circumstances, and Tony struggled to think of a single one of his own employees who would have had the brains and balls to do what Yinsen did (mainly because he didn’t deal with his employees, but the sentiment was the same). Yinsen had saved his life, and if all it cost him was a bit of pain, then that was a pretty great deal.

The only problem was, that this place was hardly a place he wanted to spend the rest of his life in - however short that may be. The trauma was there, physical and mental, but he’d wrapped it up in chains and thrown it into the deepest pits of his mind. He didn’t have time to fall apart, not when they had a plan.  

“I have this friend…”

It was dark, but Tony could still see Yinsen’s head turn in his direction. So far when they settled in for some sleep - if either of them could even manage to muster a few hours - it was Yinsen who had done most of the talking. He spoke of his wife, his children, his home…better days. If anything went wrong the following day, then it was likely that one or both of them would be killed. If ever there were a time to remember what was waiting for him at home, it was now.

“Oh?”

“Yeah…she’s, well, the only real family I have left now that I think about it.”

Yinsen was silent for a beat.

“Do you love her?”

Tony huffed a derisive laugh.

“No. No, it’s not- not like that.” He shook his head, even if Yinsen could barely see it. “She’s different, y’know? Better than this, than- than me.”

Glassy eyes, pursed lips, drooping shoulders. You looked broken. 

It was silent again.

“I’ve known her my whole life. She uh, man…”

Yinsen smiled softly. There was a genuine smile in the billionaire’s words.

“She’d know exactly what to do. She’s smart, focused. Probably searching the whole damn planet for us.”

You. Yinsen didn’t bother correcting him.

“She sounds special.”

“She is…I still hear her sometimes. That little voice inside my head, you know the one?”

Yinsen nodded, his eyes slipping shut as he pictured his family.

“I do. I call it hope.”

Tony heaved a shaky breath. “Yeah…hope.”

He smiled. If he closed his eyes he could see the pleased look his words would give rise to.

“She’d get us both out of here with a paper clip and a double A battery.”

Yinsen chuckled.

“I’m sure you’d do the same for her.”

Anything. I’d do anything…

Yinsen hummed thoughtfully, and Tony had to wonder if he’d said that aloud.

“Do you love her?”

Another silence stretched between them as Tony looked over to their workspace. If he squinted he could make out the shape of their creation. The suit of armour that would take them to safety, to freedom…home. Or, maybe it wouldn't.

“Yeah.” He inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I do.”

--------

Tony had taught you many things in life, but this was one of the most important lessons.

You remembered your first day at high school. A child genius, they called you.

A prodigy, that kid’s goin’ places, I’m tellin’ ya!

They were right and you were young, but they also seemed to think that despite the label, your age must have brought with it a certain degree of naivety. The only way they could outdo you was with experience, and they used that to their advantage.

“Watcha doin’?”

“Homework,” you’d answered, tiny hands moving a mile a minute to finish up before dinner.

Tony had frowned then, not that you could see it. You didn’t see him all that often, and when you did, he could barely go to the bathroom without you trailing after him. This was…new.

Even more unusual were the papers strewn all over the desk beside you. Louisa, Thomas, Jake, Allison…Homework, huh? Tony’d thought dryly.  

“Woah, slow down there, Speedy Gonzales,” He’d plucked the pencil out of your hand, and couldn’t suppress a smile at the wide-eyed look you’d given him.

“Tony!” You’d shouted, launching yourself at him.

He’d laughed; you hadn’t known it at the time but that was a rarity in those days. You wouldn’t understand it until you were much older, the way he changed around you, even then. The way he hid his sadness, his anger, his bitterness, from you. His childhood may have been miserable, but he’d never allow himself to be the reason yours suffered too.

He would never let anyone hurt you. Except himself, you’d both go on to realise.

“What’s all this?” he’d asked, finally prying your little arms from around his neck.

“The kids at school said that the only reason I was moved up was because my daddy paid for it. They said if I was really that smart, then I’d be able to write their essays and get A’s for all of them.”

You’d looked down at your feet. Why did it suddenly feel wrong? Why did Tony’s smile suddenly look so forced and bitter. He’d scrubbed his expression clean before he looked back at you.

“Did you doubt you could do it?”

“No, I knew I could!” You’d defended.

“Right…so why prove something you already know is true?”

His eyes had softened when he noticed your sad little pout. Decades later it still had the same effect on him. That damned look, I swear it’ll be the death of me one day.

“Hey, look…I get it. I really do,” He’d squeezed your shoulder. “It’s hard, and big kids are assh- ehem, they’re meanies,” his lips had twitched upward, “but you don’t have to prove a damn thing to them, okay? The only person I want you to worry about impressing in this world is you. Can you do that for me?”

You’d nodded.

“Promise?”

“Yes, Tony.”

He’d cocked a brow.

“What, you think I’m going to take your word for it?”

Your fist had shot up immediately, pinky finger at the ready.

“That’s right,” he’d nodded. “You break this very official agreement and that’s it, it’s all over for us.”

---------

So, when he decided to put an end to the weapons manufacturing sector of Stark Industries, you gave him your full support. It was his choice and the world would have to deal with it. Tony had been different since his return. There was a certain blankness that would settle in his eyes sometimes and he seemed more aware of the world around him. He didn’t talk about what happened to him, and you wouldn’t force him to, but the effect it had was evident.

When he’d landed on that tarmac, looking worse than you’d ever seen him, you’d told yourself that it was okay. That he was safe. He was alive. It was more than you could have ever hoped for. Then you’d proceeded to burst into tears, and clung to him the entire way to McDonald’s, like you had that day at the beach so long ago. A press conference was called and he’d left you in the car with a wink that was entirely too confident for a man who’d been through hell.

I promised you a souvenir…

The stoppered tube he’d given you almost sent you into another bout of hysterics. But you were quick to get it together when you’d heard his announcement. You spent the next few days turning off the news whenever he entered the room, but despite your efforts he knew all about the world’s criticism.

“You okay?”

You lingered in the doorway of his bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head hanging between them. He straightened at the sound of your voice, but the charade was already broken.

“Peachy,” he didn’t even bother forcing a smile. You made your way over to sit beside him.

“You ever just…? I mean, am I doing the right thing here? I gotta be, right?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes. They’d take in every inch of you for signs of a lie, or eagerly lap up your reassurances. You’d seen those eyes before; eyes desperate for direction, for a guidance he usually didn’t need. He was Tony Stark and he paved his own way in life…but the world was so far behind him these days, that he sometimes needed the only thing tethering him to it - and that was you. It always had been, and it always would be.

“You are.”

He’d released a sharp breath, relieved, but irritated. He’d been watching the news again.

“Then- Then why are people treating this like some kind of PTSD-induced phase that I’m supposed to snap out of?”

Did you see that? Those are your weapons…

“People are dying-”

In the hands of those murderers…

“-I know-“

Is this what you want?

“-my weapons are killing them-“

Is this what you wish the legacy of the great Tony Stark to be?

“-I know-“

“Do you?!” He snapped. “‘Cause I had no idea!”

His chest was heaving, anger simmering beneath the surface. You’d let him have this, this moment to just yell and vent and get it all out without having to worry about who would see or who he’d hurt with his words. He’d never hurt you, not really.

Slowly, the stern lines of his face evened out, his shoulders slumped, and that familiar look of regret bled into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry...I just…” he drew in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to know that I’m doing the right thing, no matter the cost.”

“You know why they want you to doubt your decisions? Why they want you to ‘snap out of it’?” you asked.

“It’s not because you’re wrong, but because admitting that you’re right doesn’t work in their favour.” You grasped his hand. “People will never value life as long as they continue to profit from death, Tony.”

“It’s not their names stamped on the shell…” his jaw clenched.

“I know, hon.” You offered a sympathetic smile. “But you’ve taken the first step in a direction even Howard wasn’t brave enough to take. So, we’re going to do what we always do. We’re going to fix this, okay?”

His dark, glassy eyes met your own and you smiled softly at the first trace of a small spark in them.

“Huh…”

You forced a shaky laugh, almost squirming at the foreign look in his eyes.

“What?”

He just smiled and shook his head. “Nothing. Just…I missed you, y’know?”

“Right back atcha,” you huffed a more genuine laugh this time. “I mean it, Tony. I’ve never been more proud of you in my life.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, and by the time you’d pulled away and risen to your feet, a pained look had clouded his features.

“Tony?” You couldn’t help but worry.

“I’m fine,” he smiled. It was entirely fake.

“Do, uh…do you mind just…” He glanced down at the floor as if ashamed to ask, waved his hand to the other side of his bed, and looked back up at you through his lashes. “Stay with me?”

The question caught you off-guard, but you couldn’t blame him for asking. When was the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep? Probably the night of the Apogee Awards, and that seemed so very, very long ago. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Of course.”

He’d settled into bed like a skittish animal, eyes darting to his bedroom door and to the wide expanse of tinted windows that lined his wall. The cave had been claustrophobic, but all he saw now were too many points of entry. He’d have to fix that.

Your head settled on his shoulder, and all -most- thoughts of kidnapping were tucked away for later.

“Y’know…Pep told me you barely slept while I was gone.”

“Snitch,” you mumbled, and he chuckled. “Yeah, I was a little stressed. Didn’t take care of myself as much as I probably should have.”

“I’m sorry…”

You squeezed his side, a silent reprimand.

“Don’t. You’re the last person who should be apologising. You have no idea how relieved I am, Tony.”

He was quiet for a beat. Usually he’d fire back a quip to lighten the mood, but not this time it seemed.

“I’m happy to be home.”

And he was, he just couldn’t quite voice that it wasn’t the safe and warm mansion that he’d considered home while he was in that cave. There were arms he wanted wrapped around him. There were eyes he imagined shining up at him. There was a smile he wanted to trace with his lips. There was a woman, right there at the forefront of his mind, begging him to come home…and he never could deny her.

It was jarring. He was supposed to be smart. He was supposed to be smarter than smart, and it had taken a kidnapping, a haphazard surgery in a dank cave, losing a man -a friend- worth more than any of the snobs he’d met Stateside, a fire-fight with terrorists, and a crash-landing in the middle of the desert, to open his eyes to the world around him.

Don’t waste it…don’t waste your life…

They could take his money, and his fame, and his company, and even his brain. He’d still have all he ever needed. Yinsen had lost that, it was why he urged him not to do the same.

But no, he couldn’t say that. Not to her, not yet. So he did what he always did.

“Pep also said that you slept in here most nights.”

You hummed absentmindedly.

“Kinda hoping you never outgrew that habit of sleeping in your underwear…”

Your brows furrowed, eyes snapping open to spy a grin out of the corner of your eye.

You slapped his chest lightly, mindful of the new addition.

“You’d only be so lucky, pal.”

Feeling his chest shake in silent laughter brought a smile on your face, and though you thought you heard his response, you were too far gone to care about it in the moment.

“Don’t I know it…”

[jungnoir]

prince!jaemin confidently kisses his princess when she will only awaken with her one true love’s kiss. distraught, he kisses you again, and again, desperation seeping through when nothing happens and knight!jeno averts his gaze full of shame

battlecry;

⇢ summary: love is cruel, ignorance is bliss, and all good kings must learn this. prompt belongs to @itsmultifandomtrash! 

⇢ relationship: na jaemin/reader/lee jeno. 

⇢ genre: prince!au, knight!au, angst. just angst. if you came here looking for a good time you will be attacked.

⇢ words: 5.8k.

⇢ warnings: unrequited love. sad boy gang.

a/n: I’m not sure where it went, but a few days ago, @trashknj tagged me on @nctangst‘s post about prince!jaemin where @itsmultifandomtrash sent in the above prompt and asked if I could write it! I got really inspired by it so I decided to give it a shot! hope I could do it justice~ my heart hurts :)

The palace was the quietest it had ever been since the day you were poisoned.

What used to be a sanctuary for laughter and happiness was now like a tomb; its silent walls would close in on you in the long hallways, its cool breezes now felt like icy fingers gripping at any piece of exposed skin it could reach. Royals would have dinner in silence. Nobles would visit with the utmost sincerity in their hearts as they offered their condolences to the king and queen for their daughter. Servants would meet each other’s eyes with grim looks, the question on everyone’s lips but never uttered for fear of reprimanding: would the princess ever wake from this curse?

When the witch had struck you, you had dropped like a rock. Days had gone by since the angry sorceress burst through the crowd of adoring subjects who’d welcomed you into town that too-sunny Saturday, cursing you where you stood because “tyrants should never smile”. It was in the wake of a recent law passed to abolish black magic, and while you’d never had a hand in the commandments of your country, you were the one who suffered the price.

Morbidly, the subjects were at least happy you weren’t dead, but a dreamless, wakeless sleep didn’t sound much better. Your chest still rose and fell underneath the sheer white fabric adorning your chest and your eyelids would flutter every now and then, but never did they open. Your fingers might twitch or your body might shiver when the cold night air would rush in from your bedroom window, but you did not cuddle into your sheets for any warmth. Your blood ran warm underneath your skin, but you were as good as dead.

The ordeal had arisen during the week that Prince Jaemin had come to visit you.

Pen pals since youth, Jaemin was your best friend and, soon to be, husband. You had confided in him for everything from the start of your youth until the moment you’d become a true adult in the kingdom’s eyes, a shining eighteen years of age which meant that you were that much closer to ascending to queenhood. Jaemin, too, was also soon to become a king of the neighboring kingdom of Na, and your parents had found it fit to put you two together. The arrangement had been announced only a few weeks ago, but they’d apparently been planning it since your tweens. Jaemin had been excited after years of writing to you, waiting to see you again for the first time since you were just children, and the week had been planned to a T. You’d meant to show him around the kingdom, show him the best of the crown city, and it was that particular day that you had to cut into the tightly packed tour for a quick public appearance.

Had Jaemin known that that day you’d be cursed into an endless sleep, he would have gone with you.

It was no secret to anyone in the palace how much Jaemin hated that he had not been there to protect you. Even when you both were far apart, your letters to him about your hardships and the snooty royals that’d come to visit would always spur him into a very long and very cheesy rant about how he wished he could slay your dragons for you. He considered himself to be your knight in shining armor, and you had never really disagreed. Yet, even with all his passion, he knew deep down that he would not have been fast enough to intercept the curse on its way to you. Most nights though, he dreams that he could have been.

So he’d stayed longer, written countless letters to his parents about how he refused to leave your side until you were all better, and the monarchs of Na and your kingdom were more than understanding given the bond you both shared. He’d stay forever if it meant that you would never be without someone by your side. He insisted that it must be him, had to be him, because he loved you and you loved him, and if you love someone the way he loves you, you don’t leave them for anything.

The only other person who seemed to feel that as much as he was the stoic knight at your chamber’s doors, stiff as a board and adorned in the armor of the kingdom’s military. He was already a higher-up knight by the age of 15, fighting many battles in the name of the king with what the prince had heard was nearly godly strength and will. When you had gotten a little older, the king decided to assign his best and youngest knight to you in hopes that he would guard your life as well as he guarded the lives of his men on the battlefield, and do that he surely did.

After the first two days of sitting by your side, clutching your hand in his until the warmth shared between them caused his palm to perspire, he decided that he could not take the silence anymore. The sounds of your even breaths seemed to only drive him slowly insane, the prince practically waiting for the moment they might stop altogether. So he talked to the knight instead.

“Did you grow up here? In the crown city?” Jaemin asked the knight one day, fingers still wrapped around your own. It was a hot summer afternoon, that much he could tell from the heat of the sun beating on his back through the balcony.

The knight did not stir, nor made any move to remove his helmet. The blasted silver thing glared at Jaemin from across the room, the only barrier he had between him and the knight. You had written fondly (and in great detail) of the great knight Jeno’s personality many times in your letters to the prince, so he knew not to take it personally when Jeno didn’t answer right away. It had taken you two years to get him to fully open up to you, and even then, you still suffered from Jeno’s quiet nature.

With nothing to do but wait, Jaemin just continued to watch the knight. He used the silence to examine the knight from head to toe, from boot to helmet. He noticed the sword slashes on the metal that scarred what he knew was once crystal clear. Some were closer to his neck, others closer to his left arm where the armor stopped and a mesh covering allowed for better movement of his arms. He’d once been told by his father that a man without a few scars had not yet become a man. Jaemin was sure Jeno had plenty.

“No, your highness.” Jeno finally answers, voice intense and echoing in the metal confinement around his head. Jaemin perks up some; he hadn’t expected such an answer so quickly!

“A nearby town, then? I hear most people only come to the crown city to live a better life. It is rather beautiful here after all, a city by the sea.” Jaemin hums fondly. You both were supposed to go to the beach on the weekend of his visit, right before he was set to return home for further kingly preparations.

Jeno doesn’t move still, but a hum mirrors the prince’s in the hushed room and it is nice. “Not nearby, your highness. I traveled quite a way to be here, but you are right about the last part. I came here for a better life. For my family, too.”

The prince’s chest swells with a sweet feeling; a boy as young as he turning to the crown city in order to make a better life for himself and family was not new under the sun, but he still rather admired those who did it. He knew that if he wasn’t born into such fortunate circumstances, he’d be willing to do the same in a heartbeat. 

“I wonder,” Jaemin starts, wistful as he turns his gaze back to your peacefully sleeping face, “if in another world, I was like you. Perhaps, if in that world (Y/N) was still a princess, I would have been able to make it to her like this. Like you.”

Jeno somehow stiffens even more at this. Jaemin doesn’t notice, “Would we still have fallen in love? I’m certain we would have.” Affectionately, Jaemin reaches to cradle your face as a sick feeling begins to settle in Jeno’s stomach. The prince had no idea. “She has that kind of heart. She would fall in love with someone no matter their status, because she’s just that way.” The prince had no idea.

Jaemin smiles, lost in his own world as if Jeno wasn’t even there. It’s just you and the prince as far as he’s concerned, and he’s just dreaming of the day the court mage finds a way to wake you. He knows you’ll be waiting for him as he has waited for you. “I must sound so childish and naive,” Jaemin directs this to Jeno without looking away from your shut eyes, “but I know there’s nothing in this world or the next that could separate us. It just feels destined. Nothing could destroy destiny.”

The knight is happy he isn’t expected to reply, and that is maybe the last time he gets that feeling. The prince had no idea.

The conversations grow each day.

Jaemin would either wake from beside you because he’d fallen asleep next to you, or he’d be rushing from the royal guest’s quarters at the crack of dawn to your bedroom doors. He would always tell Jeno that when he was there, the knight could rest easy outside the room. It was really his way to talk to you aloud, attempting to coax you from your sleep as the court mage worked away on figuring out how to wake you. Since the ban on black magic, many of the mage’s dabbling in the arts had to be halted unless absolutely necessary, and this situation was deemed absolutely necessary. The court mage mainly worked with health and protection potions for everyday afflictions, so this meant that it would take a little longer for him to summon the right counter to a curse and make sure it worked on you. It didn’t matter to Jaemin or the king what it took, so long as you were awake and smiling again.

Until then, Jaemin was content with talking to you. He would recall times you’d spent together as children on holidays or brief visits, or he’d discuss some of the events you both chronicled in your letters to each other. Each conversation would end with a solemn “I love you”, each word dripping in sincerity. He’d been saying it to you as much as he was physically able to ever since he’d found out you were both to be engaged. He hadn’t rushed you to say it back of course, the king and queen assuring him that his feelings were most certainly reciprocated. They’d told him how shocked from excitement you’d been to hear the news, and Jaemin had felt like he was on cloud nine. You had never been so bashful with him in his whole life until that point, but he assumed that it was because you two had never really addressed the possibility of being something more than friends before… it was new territory. He understood that much.

Jaemin tried not to bore Jeno with countless questions about you (or even more specifically, questions about how you felt about him), but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. Like now.

“Did she talk about me a lot to you?” Jaemin asks over his dinner. The prince rarely spent time away from your room, even to eat, so the maids would bring him something up each evening. Sometimes, he’d wave a bit of your favorite foods in front of your nose teasingly, wondering if that might wake you. It never seemed to stop you from snapping to attention before.

It had been a week since the first conversation with Jeno and since then, Jaemin had requested of Jeno to not wear his helmet. He had hoped that without the obstruction, he’d be able to get more comfortable with the knight, but even without it the knight was as motionless as ever. Lips tightly pursed, eyes always facing forward, brows even. It was Jaemin’s goal to get the knight you cared for so much to like him. After all, he’d be seeing a lot more of him in the future.

Jeno takes his time to answer as always, thankfully never leaving Jaemin hanging, “A bit, your highness. She described you as her best friend.”

Jaemin blushes, looking down at his food. “Is that… so? I always wondered if maybe she’d make a closer friend here. I guess that spot was reserved for me. What else did she say about me?”

“That you were easily excitable, your highness.”

“Eh?!” Jaemin screeches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

While others might have flinched away at Jaemin’s tone, maybe afraid they’d offended the prince in some way, Jeno does nothing of the sort because he knows it’s harmless. He continues to stand tall, though his eyes glide to Jaemin for one of the few times the prince had caught him doing so, “I assumed it was due to your childlike nature, your highness. I’m sure she didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Still, Jaemin pouts. “I’m… I’m not easy.”

Jeno looks away from him just as slowly as he looked to him, “Of course not, your highness.”

“Hey,” Jaemin lightly scolds, “you don’t sound too convinced!”

The knight’s lip quirks up a bit and Jaemin really can’t believe it. Was… was the stoic knight really smiling right now? Had he really just made Jeno smile? “I’m sorry, your highness. The princess’s sentiments of you have left an impression.”

Jaemin huffs, though he’s happy that there seems to be a more comfortable air in the room now. Even if it was the smallest twitch in the lip, Jaemin counts Jeno’s smile as a success through and through. The pout leaves the prince’s lips finally, changing the subject, “Well, when she wakes, we’ll have to have a discussion about that. She can’t ruin my charming reputation without my consent.”

Again, Jaemin is surprised when Jeno makes a small sound. Almost like a… chuckle. Just barely there, his ears would have lost the sound to the wind had it not been such a soundless night. Jaemin laughs a little on his own, too, delighted. “Of course, your highness. Though I cannot promise her willingness to change her ways, I’m sure you’ll make a good effort.”

The prince shakes his head goodnaturedly, taking a sip from his chalice as he throws a glance your way. It feels odd to have you here but not have you really here, the prince thinks. How he wished you would wake and add to the conversation, but no such thing would happen just based off of intention alone. The court mage was getting close to exposing the counter to your curse, so he just had to wait a little longer. Imagine how thrilled you’d be when you found out that he and Jeno were getting along! Even being friends! He could see the pleased smile on your face as clear as day, as if you were really smiling at him inches from his face. He sighs contentedly.

Jaemin decides he’ll spend tonight talking to you again, but he won’t tell Jeno to leave the room this time. He doesn’t feel the need to be private in front of him right now, and if he can help it, the bond between the two of them might grow stronger just by listening to the adventures you both shared in your youth. “Thank you for talking to me again today, Jeno. I can see why she cares for you so much.”

Jeno had feared this before when he’d taken off his mask for the first time. He’d been able to keep himself emotionless in the face of the prince on several other occasions, but he isn’t sure he can hide the way his face falls at the thought. A swirling pit of guilt has begun to accumulate in his gut and has yet to disappear since the prince had gotten here. It had been so much easier before he’d actually met the prince to see him as some kind of battle, like the ones he used to face in his younger days. This wedding was your battle to fight, and Jeno would be guarding you every step of the way. Sympathizing with the very cause of his grief was the last thing he needed. Yet, here he stands, joking and laughing with the prince as if he isn’t the reason why Jeno’s nightmares are all of your wedding day, marrying someone that isn’t him while he fades into the background.

It had barely felt like a day had passed since you both last professed your love to each other, since your only concerns were bringing up the relationship between you both to your parents. His biggest fear was that the king and queen would not allow him to court you, to one day marry you if you so wished. Yet now, his biggest fear was that that chance to tell them would never even come, and you would fall for your best friend, the prince, who seemed to know you much better than Jeno did. With time, your feelings for the knight would disappear, and Jeno would watch it all with a heart that would never repair itself.

And here this very prince was, thanking him. Thanking him for comforting him while the love of both of their lives lay unconscious mere feet away. It was sick. Though the witch had probably meant for the curse to hurt no one but you, the king, and the queen, they had seriously miscalculated the ripples this would have on everyone around you. Jeno knew the way the guilt ate at you tenfold, forcing yourself to lie to Jaemin about your “feelings” in order to not hurt him with the truth just yet. You were cornered with nowhere else to go and Jeno could do nothing but watch. Sadly, maybe you were at least at peace in this sleep, free from the clutches of heartache in your chest.

Jaemin thinks that Jeno is just taking his usual time with replying, unknowing of the turmoil that festers behind the knight’s quickly rebuilt facade, “Of course… your highness.”

Three weeks have passed since the curse and Jeno and Jaemin are what Jaemin considers “friends”. Their conversations are considerably longer, and this leads to Jaemin convincing Jeno to leave your room every once in a while for a change of venue. Usually, Jeno would protest to leaving you alone anywhere, but the other knights standing guard at your door promise that they would alert both the prince and Jeno of any changes in your condition if something happened. After a few trips around the palace, Jeno wasn’t as averse to the idea anymore. They’d even managed to make it outside more than a few times.

Their walks were usually full of talking (mainly on Jaemins’s side). Jeno had ended up showing Jaemin parts of the palace that you hadn’t yet gotten to show him, deciding you wouldn’t mind too much if he got used to his surroundings while you were still under the spell. Jaemin had never been the type to just sit still for a long time either, though the sadness and concern he had for you had cemented him to your side without a thought about it for nearly a month. Sometimes, they’d walk through the gardens and Jaemin would tell him about the flora back home. Sometimes, Jeno would request a special lunch for the two of them out near the lake. Sometimes, they’d just circle the grand hall and talk.

It was unusual for Jeno to be so close to a royal like you until he realized he fell for you and you him. This, however, was different. He could not readily consider Jaemin a friend, especially when the truth had not yet been revealed to the other, but he still felt… friendly. He had meant to stay as impartial to the prince as possible, an attempt to keep his soft heart from caving in on itself at the thought of ever telling him the truth about you and him. He believed that with as little attachment to him as possible, even possibly looking at all of Jaemin’s flaws alone to help him, he could feel less terrible for this setup.

But he still finds himself caring for the young prince anyway, and he wishes selfishly that you’d awaken because he isn’t sure he can do this without you.

According to the mage, the curse that had been used on you was emotion based. There was no amount of herbal medicine that could bring you back from this sleep, but they weren’t totally sure what was needed to jolt you awake. In some cases, a curse like this would be fixed with some kind of internal shock, some interruption of dreams, something that your soul would feel rather than your body. Knowing your waking was so close was happy and terrifying for Jeno; there was so much you hadn’t gotten to talk about since the announcement, and there was so much that needed to be talked about that Jeno had a hard time keeping mental purchase of them all.

Today, he can let himself forget some of them as he and Jaemin watch the sea from the highest tower in the palace. The salty air is refreshing to Jaemin, a prince from a kingdom that is surrounded by dense forests and rain rather than ocean water. “Jeno, do you get to visit the beach often?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno stands beside the prince whose arms are folded on the stone ledge, eyes squinted at the early evening sunlight streaking the blue water with ripples of white. Until Jaemin, he had never walked around for this long without his helmet on. It wasn’t necessary for him to do so inside the palace, rather just a habit of his from his battle days, but it also gave him the impassive and intimidating aura that kept people from messing with you (if they ever so thought to). He’d begun to dress down too, another thing he wasn’t so used to. Instead of his bulky armor, he adorned some of the less restrictive clothing for moving around on the palace grounds. It made him more approachable, much to his confusion. All Jaemin’s idea.

“No…” Jeno pauses, attempting to adjust to dropping the formal “your highness” when no one else was around, “I’ve been once or twice, but not for fun.”

Jaemin frowns, casting a glance at Jeno over his shoulder, “That should be a crime. You can’t live here and not get to visit the beach every weekend!”

Jeno scoffs, amused, “Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to go to the beach?”

Jaemin turns up his nose and shuffles a bit on his feet, “Well… I don’t know. You don’t?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I just… have no reason to. I don’t have anyone to go with.” Jeno admits. He doesn’t add the last bit about how the one person he’d want to go with could never.

He doesn’t have to, it seems, as Jaemin does it for him, “I’m sure (Y/N) would love to go with you. You know, as a friendly day out. If only this whole class system wasn’t so royally unfair, you two could go and no one would haggle you about it.”

Oh, how Jeno had daydreamed about just that for so long. If only Jaemin knew. Jeno could only respond with his best response to things like that, “Maybe in another life, but not this one.”

Jaemin flips around so that he’s facing Jeno with his back turned to the sea, his elbows propped up on the ledge now. He is squinting too, but not from the sunlight, that’s for sure. “You shouldn’t be so cynical, Jeno. I promise that one day in the future, me, (Y/N), you, and someone special will go out to the beach late one night without anyone finding out to just be free. By then, I will have appointed you to nobility, had your family moved out here to live with you in a villa on a nearby island, and gotten you acquainted with a charmer of your choice. You’ll be living the life, Jeno.”

Jeno blinks at the absurdity of Jaemin’s claims, “I-I never agreed to any of that. And you should be glad no one higher-up is around to hear you speaking like that.”

Jaemin just rolls his eyes and kicks his foot out, back and forth, “Don’t you think it’s nice, though? I know I’ve only known you for so long, but I can really see how much you care about (Y/N). And, since we’re getting married, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I don’t want you to feel like you’re lesser than us, Jeno. You should be able to be comfortable around us and your family deserves to see you more than just once a year. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Jeno can clearly see the heart in Jaemin’s words, even as his own clenches at them. The truth is obvious to himself of course: he wouldn’t like that, not all of it anyway. He’d rather stay the way he is now, several ranks below you, untouchable, than to ever feel like he had even the inkling of a chance of being with you the way he wants to. With Jaemin in the picture, it’s the best choice anyway. Jaemin can’t see that though, should never have to, because Jaemin has done nothing but be kind to Jeno this whole time. Jaemin has done nothing but embrace him like a friend, and Jeno… Jeno just can’t. It just cannot be their truth. Jeno knows he will never be happy unless it’s at the expense of Jaemin’s happiness, and that is now far too taxing of a reality to bear.

Jeno doesn’t get to answer him, probably wouldn’t have been able to anyway, because the sound of rushing steps up the tower’s stairs catch them both off guard. Moments after the source of the steps reaches the doorway to the octagonal room, sweat is coating the face of the servant who’d sprinted to find them. She tries to catch her breath as Jaemin straightens up to address her, “Are you okay? What’s the rush?”

The servant bows quickly toward the foreign prince, “My apologies your highness, I did not mean to interrupt your conversation with Sir Jeno, but I have important news. Princess (Y/N)’s curse has been solved: we know what will wake her.”

Jaemin and Jeno both stand to attention, eyes darting to each other and then back to the panting servant. “Really?” Jeno rasps, urgency bleeding through his tone like a gushing river, “What is it? What will wake her?”

The servant draws in a heavy breath and even dares to crack a smile, eyes locked solely on Jaemin as she answers, “The princess’s curse will break upon the kiss of her true love’s lips.”

Jaemin runs faster than he ever has before. He’s not even sure Jeno is behind him when he thrusts himself through your double doors, a triumphant smile on his face when his eyes fall upon your figure. The king, queen, court mage, and a few servants stand around you all awaiting his arrival. The minute he makes his grand entrance, the smiles that beam at him practically light up the room.

The king is joyous as he welcomes the prince, “My son!” He calls heartily. A stab to Jeno’s heart as he enters a few moments later. “Quickly, quickly. You must awaken her.”

Jaemin’s ears go a little red at the prospect of sharing his first kiss with you like this, in front of all these people, but he knows that it is to save you and bring you back from this curse. He’d do anything to hear your voice again. Meanwhile, Jeno can only stand a few feet away in a disassociated stance. He doesn’t want to believe he’s experiencing this right now. He wishes that he could be anyone else.

“My stars, my stars,” Jaemin whispers adoringly as he collapses beside your body. You still look serene, and he can’t wait to see your eyes opening to look at him. Him, him, him. His favorite thing is to be seen by you. Your eyes dancing with warmth in them when you’d greeted him the day he got here had been playing in his mind on repeat for the last three weeks, and now… now, you were going to be awoken by true love’s kiss. His kiss. “Oh my stars, forgive me that this is our first kiss. Please wake and I’ll make it up to you.” Jaemin clutches your hand in his and squeezes it tight, imagining that you’ll squeeze it back. You don’t, but it won’t be like that for long.

Unable to contain his excitement, Jaemin looks to Jeno before he swoops in, smile not wide enough to even try to show the extent of his excitement. His eyes lock with the knight’s, but Jeno looks like he’s seen a ghost. It almost stops Jaemin in his tracks, almost. His excitement gets the best of him as he tries to remind himself that Jeno may just be overwhelmed; the entire room is overflowing with expectation and if it wasn’t the adrenaline Jaemin was being fueled by, he might be shaking at the thought of kissing you awake. Right now though, he has no time to worry about Jeno’s reaction. He’s far too focused on you.

He takes your face between his hands and sighs at your beauty, before letting himself descend delicately. He whispers sweet nothings to you as he leans down, lips inches to centimeters apart. His lips are dry from gnawing on them incessantly and he scolds himself for not being prepared to give you a pleasant kiss, but he hopes you won’t mind.

Finally, he meets your mouth.

It’s his first time kissing you and he can feel sparks exploding in his chest. There’s a party going on beneath his ribcage, or maybe that’s just the rapid beating of his heart. This is everything he wanted and more and he’s so, so nervous. He can’t pick up on anything but the pounding in his ears and the pressure of lips he’s waiting for to meet his own. He’s waiting. He’s waiting.

He’s waiting.

He’s… waiting.

Jaemin pulls back some, still holding your face. You don’t wake. He leans down to kiss you again, this time quicker and a little more sober, but when he pulls back yet again, you are still asleep. His eyes, in his desperation, flicker to the court mage who looks as dumbfounded as he and the rest of the room. One kiss, one small kiss from your true love was supposed to wake you from your slumber without a doubt. It’s what his Book of Shadows had told him, what he knew to be true from tales long past, so it should have worked. Jaemin had done everything perfectly, after all. 

The prince releases your cheeks and stares at your face. You’re motionless, just like you’d been for the last three weeks. His kiss… had done nothing.

So, he wasn’t…

The queen gasps when it clicks. Jaemin goes still when something entirely different clicks for him.

It should have been clear before.

Jeno is avoiding his eyes but there are tears staining his cheeks already. His lips are shaking like he’s going to full on bawl in a moment. No matter how hard Jaemin stares at him, Jeno won’t look. He can’t. He mustn’t. If he did, he might not be able to bear it.

Jeno should be happy with all other things isolated; Jaemin is not your true love, and any doubts he had that you might have unexplored feelings for the prince are crushed at the same time that he realizes what this means. There is no one else you are as close to as you are with Jaemin… except him.

He is always with you, always by your side, your confidant when writing a letter will take too long. Jaemin may have known you longer, but contrary to Jeno’s beliefs, he didn’t know you better. Jeno had seen more of the you that you are now than Jaemin had, and that meant something. Something terrible, something wonderful… depending on how you looked at it.

And Jeno knew the whole time, the prince realizes. He didn’t tell him.

“…so… you wouldn’t have liked that, then.” Jaemin whispers, and nobody but Jeno knows to what that he’s referencing.

“I’m so- so sorry.” Jeno’s voice cracks, full of more emotion than he’d ever shown the prince since they’d met. He can’t stop crying as he feels the world crumble about him. He knows what he should do next, but he never imagined that his feelings would be exposed this way. Never would have wished for it.

Jaemin is suppressing a sob because he knows that that’s what kings do. He couldn’t cry now. What would that make him look like? A babbling child in front of the people of the kingdom he was hoping to rule one day by your side? He could never. He should never… but he is mourning inside.

The prince stands with every pair of eyes on him except that of the knight’s. You lay still, unaware. At that moment, everyone wishes they could be you (Jaemin the most). He takes in a heavy breath, centering himself like his father had taught him to do when faced with a situation that he was unsure of. He breathes in, and out, eyes shut to block out the vision of Jeno sniveling a few feet away, though the sound is loud and clear in the dead silent room. He has to get this over with, and it’s now or never. No matter how badly he wanted it to be him, it wasn’t. He hates that it’s Jeno. But…

Jaemin steps away from you with a heavy heart, holding out a hand to motion to you. Jeno looks from the prince’s hand to you, then to the prince’s detached expression. “Then you must wake her, Jeno. Please.”

“…O-of course, your highness.”

[arianaofimladris]

Reversed roles

I posted this story almost a year ago, but someone reminded me of its existance today and I feel like going back to this idea and maybe writing a bit more...

This is an AU ficlet with Feanaro reborn as a child and placed in Fingolfin’s care. Fluffy. Feel free to drop hints for me.

Reversed roles

 The first time the envoy of the Valar came, Nolofinwe was mortified. Like it usually was with them, there wasn’t really a place for arguing. Namo, Nolofinwe had to admit, seemed kind of desperate. He said he could find no one else for the task and he would not charge any of Fëanaro’s sons with it. All in all, it was a good thing to make a Vala owe you, so Nolofinwe finally agreed.

Which, in result, left him in charge of his brother. His elder brother, currently a pouting child with a charming smile, when he bothered to reward him with one. And, unfortunately, his far less charming personality and memories. Nolofinwe immediately understood why he was chosen. Nerdanel already had her seven sons in various stages of emotional maturity to deal with and it would be unfair to charge her and adolescent Maitimo with the care of Fëanaro.

When Namo’s servant brought his brother, Fëanaro was visibly displeased. He clearly found it humiliating that the Maia was carrying him, but as they were both told, the distance was too great for his short legs to manage. The Maia warned the second son of Finwe that he may face emotional instability and mood changes, then left. As if Nolofinwe had not known his brother.

‘You will not treat me like a child’ was the first thing he heard when they were left alone. He found it hard to follow when he was told so by someone who barely reached his thigh. His brother was no longer so imposing, no matter how hard he tried. At first Nolofinwe found it somewhat amusing.

They walked together across the inner yard to the main building. It was a smaller house Nolofinwe chose from time to time, when he wished to spend some time away from his brother’s court. Right now he was almost sure it was one reason more why he was chosen to be put in charge of Fëanaro. They were in quite a desolate place. Findekano and Findarato were going to drop by in the next few days, but Nolofinwe wouldn’t be really surprised if they were told by someone not to come.

“Where is your forge?” asked Fëanaro, looking around with interest.

“Have you ever known me for having one?” replied Nolofinwe with a question. “Besides, I will not let you go to any forge right now.”

“You will not tell me what to do!”

“What would you do in a forge anyway?” Nolofinwe deliberately knelt to be at the child’s level. “Sit on a stool and swing your legs? You are too small to reach most of the things and I doubt you have enough strength to lift, let’s say, a hammer.”

“I suppose I don’t,” agreed Fëanaro grumpily. “So, I am to stay with you. I hope you have some books at least.”

“I think you’ll find something interesting. I can show you the library, if you wish.” Perhaps it was for the best to let Fëanaro spend some time alone before trying to talk with him. It must have been so confusing to come back to life as a child. He himself had not had such experience, being brought to Anaire as a grown elf.

“That would be nice,” replied the boy politely. Definitely confusing, decided Nolofinwe.

“Then come with me, Pityanaro,” he said and chuckled as his tiny elder brother glared daggers at him.

xxx

Fëanaro seemed satisfied when he was given several lore books to study and a sketchbook. He seemed to be buzzing with various ideas and even though he was forbidden to use any kind of workshop, it didn’t mean he couldn’t make some plans. Nolofinwe was pleased to find his brother willing to explain what he was sketching, even if he was terribly frustrated with the clumsiness of his little fingers. Still, it was refreshing and oddly pleasant to see him working, even if he looked ridiculous sitting by Nolofinwe’s desk, way too big for him.

The second son of Finwe decided to return to his studio and leave Fëanaro to his projects, as he was obviously thrilled to be able to create again, even with his limited possibilities. He left the doors open, so he could hear his brother, should he need anything, but he doubted Fëanaro would require anything anytime soon.

xxx

There was a loud thunk!, a startled cry and then something hit the floor. Judging by the muffled whimper, a very stubborn, childish and Feanorish something. Nolofinwe shook his head and went out to check on the damage.

There was a broken shelf and a big, heavy book laying on the floor. Several smaller books were tossed around and in the middle of this chaos sat Fëanaro, doing his best trying not to look distraught. The boy sniffled once, twice, his eyes welled with tears. He wiped them away angrily and stood up, when a muffled sob escaped his lips.

“What’s wrong, Fëanaro? Are you alright?”

“N-nothing,” sniffled his elder brother and Nolofinwe immediately realised his mistake. Never, ever act around a hurt child as if something serious happened, or else they would flood in tears before you know it. It seemed that he had just triggered the childish part of his brother.

“You know, it is quite alright to cry if it hurts,” remarked Nolofinwe more casually, following his brother as he stumbled on the corridor, books and all the mess forgotten.

“It d-doesn’t!”

“You have splinters in your calf. AND you are dripping blood on the floor.” Nolofinwe easily picked his brother up and placed on his hip. Despite his claims, Fëanaro subconsciously sought comfort and didn’t really oppose when Nolofinwe hugged him more closely and carried him to the bathroom.

“Now I am dripping blood on you,” muttered the boy matter-of-factly.

“So you are.”

Nolofinwe seated him on a chair and went to seek for some clean towel and a piece of bandage. When he turned again, Fëanaro was already fumbling around his leg, trying to remove long splinters.

“Let me.” Nolofinwe knelt beside him, seeing how his brother’s hands were shaking.

“I know how to do that. I have seven sons!”

“You’re the size of your youngest boys right now, the last I saw them at least.”

“Can I go and see them? And play with them?” This time he didn’t manage to fully hide his interest; the child part of his older brother was showing again, whether he liked it or not.

Nolofinwe smirked. Fëanaro spent half of the time performing his usual tasks (or at least attempting, as much as his small body would let him), but then came the moments when his childish part took over and he did things adequate for the age he looked like. Then, of course, he would deny anything had actually happened.

“Not now, certainly. Leave those scissors, they are too big for you. Don’t act like a child and let me do that.”

xxx

“I wish to see Nerdanel,” stated Fëanaro after they finished their late dinner.

Nolofinwe arched his eyebrow, trying hard to ignore the tiny legs swinging under the table and occasionally kicking the chair.

“You’ll see her once you’re a bit bigger,” he replied calmly. “I know you miss her, but she is far too busy with your sons to charge her with you as well.”

That was a really charming pout that appeared on his brother’s face. Fëanaro stared grimly at his plate for a long time, sulking.

“So they screwed again,” he muttered angrily. “The Valar. They should have let me out first, so I we could deal with our children together, like we once had.”

“Have you known the Valar to be always right?” asked Nolofinwe and he was rewarded with a surprised smile. “And... You know, I am not going to strangle or poison you. I am trying to get things... better,” he said finally.

“I know. So should I,” sighed Fëanaro and a tiny hand grasped Nolofinwe’s fingers. “I am glad to be out of there. I just want to return to my family.”

“Soon,” promised Nolofinwe. “And besides, it wouldn’t look well if I sent you back to Mandos, would it?” he said teasingly. “Hey, Fëanaro! I’m just jesting!” he called, alarmed, as the boy ran to the window and stared in amazement.

Fëanaro ignored him, still staring. Nolofinwe joined him and saw the full moon slowly raising on the sky. The child seemed to be utterly mesmerized.

“This night lamp is magnificent,” said Fëanaro in wonder. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“It is,” agreed Nolofinwe. He picked his brother up so he could see more clearly. “And it doesn’t obscure the sight of the stars.”

Fëanaro was enchanted by the silver light of the moon. Nolofinwe remembered that the Halls of Mandos were a shadowy place with nothing real around the bodiless fëas. His brother was taking being alive again surprisingly well, but no wonder he was so caught up with the sight of something he had never seen directly before.

The evening was warm and pleasant, so Nolofinwe decided to take his brother out. He still kept him in his arms, but Fëanaro didn’t really mind that, too busy watching the moon and all the stars he didn’t know, including his Silmaril. Seeing that, Nolofinwe sang a praise for Elbereth. He walked through the garden, enjoying the silence and the company of his not-so-awful elder brother. Before he knew, Fëanaro’s childish part took over him and the boy fell asleep in his arms.

As he did so, Nolofinwe nestled him more comfortably and carried him back to the house. It was only after he placed Fëanaro in a bed when he was hit by the sudden realisation. As interesting as this experience was, no one told him how long it was going to look like that before his brother would be an adult again.

[diverdaddy]

The Great Escape: Free Kanan

Pairing: KanaDia  Word Count: 7 691 Summary: Dia pauses the search for her friend and pulls up the cardboard packaging, taking out a big, purple plastic mess from it. She finds the spout where a pump may go, inhales a deep breath and the blows it out into the inflatable object.  

-Record scratch, freeze frame on Dia as she's about to exhale-  

‘’Yup thats me. You're probably wondering how i ended up in this situation..  Well we gotta go back a couple weeks‘’ 

Author’s Note: Hi, thank you @nozoroomie for my life I dont know how to write but thank you so so much for doing this collab with me and for pretending like I do know what im doing anyways! This is small gift for our friend @chilopawbi because sometimes even your really dumb friends deserve something nice. And this is one of those times.  Also avaliable to read on Roomie’s! [AO3]

One would not expect there to be much activity by the pier of the Kurosawa fishing business late on a Friday night. Normally, after 8pm at the latest, lights are shut off in the factory, boats are safely secured in the docks and everything is as it should be. But tonight, if one looked closely, they would see the form of a young adult sneaking into the boat docks, with a large bundle tucked under one arm and a flashlight in the other.

Said girl walks over to the very end of the docking bay, kneeling down without a care. She places the large cardboard packaging under her arm on the wooden floor next to her and glances around the murky waters of the bay, searching for someone. She frowns a bit when she can’t immediately find who she looks for, but time waits for no one. She opts out of her search for her friend in favour of opening the cardboard packaging and getting to work. She spreads out what looks to be a purple plastic mess that’s meant to be blown up. She takes a deep breath and exhales it before picking it up, finding the little spout where a pump may go and instead putting her mouth around it. One more big inhale and then Dia begins to exhale inside the object.

Why exactly does she find herself here tonight? She thinks back to why she’s done this in the first place and remembers all too well what happened when her father came home that day from work.

The senior Kurosawa with dark red hair that matched his youngest daughter was distraught. He sat in the kitchen, head in his hands as his wife brought him a cup of tea. Dia had been walking past the kitchen but the position her father was in wasn’t normal. She pauses on the other side of the doorway when her mother speaks.

“Are you positive that’s what you saw dear? An actual-”

“Absolutely. I have the proof- she can’t move. She’s hurt and stuck there for her own safety.”

“Wow.. A real life mermaid.”

Dia almost falls over. A what?! There’s no way she can hide herself now.

“Excuse me, what?!” Dia says, stepping into the kitchen with a determined look on her face. The one both her mother and father know means she won’t be leaving them until she’s gotten all the information she needs. Her father prinches the bridge of his nose while her mother sighs.

“Dia,” Her father says in a serious tone, bringing his hand down, “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”

Yes.

“No- I was walking past,” She responds curtly, “You found a mermaid at work? Really? You can’t be serious.”

She’s always been skeptical about the local tales- the rumours of mermaids living in the ocean near their little town. She thought it was all a legend- stories from the past that were passed down through generations of families and told to the children to fill their minds with wonder and to respect the ocean more (after all, mermaids and the animals can’t continue to live safely unless they keep the ocean clean.)

But Dia is a firm believer in solid proof. There is little proof that mermaids exist- only theories. She refuses to believe this issue at work is a mermaid and not something more urgent. Her father sighs and he stands up, leaving his full cup of tea.

“Well there’s no point arguing with you. Come along Dia- and not a word of this to your little sister, understand?”

No words are said by the two of them as they head towards the front door. They get their shoes on and Dia’s father leads them towards his work truck. Dia feels a little nervous from the aura of anger and exhaustion radiating off of her father, but he doesn’t seem upset or angry. Frustrated maybe- but not with her. The girl feels maybe she should say sorry, but her pride is a stubborn thing. She’ll wait until apologies are meant to be given.

“Father, are you really serious about this mermaid?” Dia asks him in a soft, concerned voice. He keeps his eyes on the road and lets out a small sigh.

“I know you, Dia. You won’t believe me unless you see it for yourself.” He replies simply. Dia blushes a bit embarrassed but leans back in her seat.

The rest of the ride is short and quiet. Dia steps out of the truck when they’re parked and she follows her father into the warehouse. The walk down the docks is a little eerie. Dia feels a twinge of fear within her but she follows her father regardless.

They approach the final bay in the warehouse where their most expensive fishing boat rests. There’s a long rope going along the front of the boat from one dock to the next and a sign that says “Out of order” right in the middle. Dia takes a once over of the side she can see and notices where the large net motor should be its not there- baron of any sign of a net motor whatsoever. She opens her mouth to ask her father what happened when he peers over the dock and points under the water with his flashlight.

“Right there.” he says, holding the light in place, “See down there? The slight discoloured spots just by the bottom of the boat? The spots throw you off but if you focus on them you’ll see the tail fin.”

Sure enough, Dia squints and the spots she can see move. Her brows furrow and when she tries to locate them her eyes detect movement. She follows it with her gaze and she lets out an audible gasp when she sees not just the spots of a tail fin, but an actual, real life form of a mermaid. It’s dark and Dia swears, if it weren’t for the light from their flashlight, she would not believe it. A real living mermaid.

“What… what are you going to do with her?” Dia asks in an unbelieving voice.

Her father stays silent and Dia finally takes her stare away from the mermaid. He looks like he’s contemplating something and Dia really doesn’t like that gaze he has. The answer should be obvious- help heal the mermaids fin and send her back into the ocean where she belongs. But new net motors aren’t cheap and the equipment to repair their best boat may be pricey- she knows that it might put a financial strain on the company. But nothing they couldn’t handle.

His expression alone says a million things that are far from the answer Dia wants to hear.

“That’s undecided. We’re going to figure it all out tomorrow.” He finally answers. “I’m going to go into the office to make a call since we’re here. Come get me when you’re ready to go home.”

He heads down the dock and into the direction of the office building while Dia stays put. It angers her to know that her father may be planning something more for the mermaid before he even releases her- or if he even releases her. She looks down with a furious gaze.

“Disgusting. I won’t let him do anything like that if I can help it.”

As her sentence is finished there’s a small sploosh noise and Dia perks up immediately, flashing her light towards the sound. All she can see are ripples on the surface of the water between her and the boat, and there’s only one thing that could’ve done it. Dia peers towards the surface closer to her and she almost yells when she finds a piercing, amethyst gaze staring up at her through the water. She hears herself gasp but can’t process anything as she gets a close up look of the mysterious mermaid.

Her hair is long and dark- most likely a deep blue hue. Her gaze is cautious, yet there is a curiosity in it that Dia can recognize quite easily. Her gaze moves and Dia can see that the scales and spot designs aren’t just a part of her tail fin- they go up along her sides and cover parts of her chest, as well as parts of her arms (her big, strong looking arms, and oh so very defined biceps.) and framing her face. She can only assume her back is covered in more of the beautiful patterned scales and it’s only then that Dia realizes just how beautiful this mermaid is. She takes in more details of her face- the way her nose points up ever so slightly in a dainty way, the fullness of her lips (her very kissable lips), the way the scales along the underside of her face make her chin more prominent.

Dia swallows. Hard. Oh no. Oh no this mermaid is cute. No- she’s more than cute. This mermaid is a hottie. A bonafide hottie who Dia wishes was more than just a creature of the sea. She hates this- it’s bad enough having a gay crisis in public with Mari around, but now she’s having a moment alone, in her family’s business, with a mermaid of all things.

Her face is the brightest shade of red and whether it’s from shame or the mermaids beauty, Dia really doesn’t know.

The mermaid has yet to move away and she looks further down to find the injury her father mentioned earlier- as clear as day. Along with what looks like rope burns, the sea creature has a long, painful looking gash going down towards her fin, and it is definitely some kind of swollen. Dia frowns concerned, wondering if anything might be able to help it. Does human medicine work on mermaids? Would the mermaid be willing to try it and find out? Would disinfectant cream even be useful if the mermaid has to be in the water? There’s so many questions running through Dia’s mind, but all she can really think about is how this mermaid needs to be let back into the ocean. They can’t keep her here. It’s too cruel. It’s unfair and unjust and holding her hostage is not the way anyone in the Kurosawa family should handle things.

“I’m not sure if you understand me but if you do, please don’t be afraid,” she says softly, “I’m going to help you out of here and get you back home.”

The mermaid doesn’t seem to react much aside from blinking slowly at her. Does this mean she understood? Dia certainly hopes so. She blushes a bit but clears her throat, deciding she’ll talk with her father now, since she has the opportunity.

She doesn’t leave immediately though- there’s something about the mermaids gaze that keeps her entranced. Are mermaids and sirens the same thing? Is this what it’s like to be caught in the spell of one? (Or is Dia just that gay..) She isn’t sure but she also doesn’t mind. The way the mermaid stares has become more curious and interested than anything else and Dia can only hope it’s because she’s understood her slightly.

With one last look over her shoulder Dia heads for her father’s office.

‘’What do you mean I would have to get a brand new boat!?’’ Her father’s voice echos out of the office as Dia gets closer to the door. Now Dia might be gay, but she wasn’t bad at math, a brand new boat would dent the company’s paychecks more than just a small equipment replacement. She stops outside of the office door, this was worse than she thought it would be.

The mermaids fate was probably sealed now that her father got the bad news. How was he planning on exploiting the mermaid now that their best boat had to be replaced? Was there any laws against exploiting mermaids? did it count as animal cruelty or maybe slavery? The more Dia thought about it the more determined she got. She had to help the mermaid break out, and fast.

By the time Dia is out of breath the purple plastic object is far from looking anything like the picture on the cardboard box it came out of. How could her budget bought inflatable chair be so hard to blow up? The huffing and puffing escaping from her would put the big bad wolf to shame, this was ridiculous!

‘’Hey Dia, do you any need help?’’

Dia almost chokes when the friend she was looking for shows up, of course she would be caught now that she was out of breath and looked like a roasted tomato. Facing the mermaid that was looking up at her Dia can’t help but blush harder before collecting herself.

“There you are Kanan.” She finally says, a bit out of breath. “You’re late.”

Kanan smiles a bit.

“I’ve been here the whole time, you just never thought to look under the dock.” She says with a cheeky grin that catches Dia off guard and god could this mermaid be anymore charming?! Seriously?! Just a single smile and Dia’s stomach is doing flips.

Her attention however quickly zones in on all the things Dia brought with her, especially the cardboard packaging for the purple plastic mess Dia was so desperately trying to blow up. She tilts her head curiously, using her hands to push herself up on the dock and keeping herself held up as she read the letters on the box. There’s familiar characters on the label, but on the picture of the box there are a few english letters spelt out. She focuses her gaze on it to try to read what it says.

“B-Brit-ney Spear-s, What’s a ‘Britney Spears?’’ The mermaid asks out of curiosity as she reads the english text out loud.

“To- to address your question, no- No I’m, I’m fine, I- I can do this.” Dia tries to bluff, but she realizes exactly how close Kanan is at this moment and loses a bit of her confidence, “It’s just a dumb, a really dumb Britney Spears, that’s exactly what a Britney Spears is.’’

She feels too embarrassed to admit that Britney Spears is actually an american pop star but Kanan doesn’t need to know that. She turns back to the task at hand, blowing with all her might into the purple plastic as to prove a point, but her moment only lasts for so long before she gives in to her already dead lungs again.

“Feels like you’ve been doing that forever huh? Think we’ll be able to pull this off without your dad finding out?” Kanan asks, leaning onto her elbows and resting her head on her hands as she watches the other girl.

Dia takes a couple deep breaths of air and shakes her head, preparing herself to blow into the inflatable object once again. If she didn’t have powerful lungs before, she certainly would after today. She tries to blow more air into the object but she runs out of breath fast. Maybe she should take a longer break.

“What exactly is stopping your dad from interrupting us?” Kanan asks, a curious smile dancing on her lips.

“One word.” Dia breathes out, digging into her pocket and bringing out her phone. She scrolls through it a little bit before she turns the screen to face Kanan, “Mari.”

“Oookay.. so, how is this ‘Mari’ stopping your dad?” Kanan pries for more information with that smile still on her face. Dia’s face heats up a little more. Gross. She’s super cute when she wants to learn more.

“Mari is the director of my high school.” Dia explains with a bit of reluctance. “She arranged a parent teacher interview with my father. I don’t know the reason why but I do have a bad feeling about it.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have a feeling whatever reason she’s called my father to the school is because she made it seem very urgent. She never told me what she was going to say, but I have a feeling I’ll be scolding her later.”

As this is said, somewhere, across the city at Uranohoshi Girls academy, Mari feels a chill run up her spin as she looks at Mr. Kurosawa across from her. In front of her are three pictures of what seems to be his youngest daughter vandalising school property with various doodles of sweets, small animals and the most alarming thing of all- an english phrase of some sort that reads “send nudes.”

[The truth of the matter is they were all photos taken for the year book that were edited by her and a comrade in arms (Yohane, they called her) to make it look like the little Kurosawa was destroying school property. Mari assumes Dia will be furious with her, but she’s confident she’ll be able to convince Dia it was the only option. ]

Kanan laughs a melodious sound and Dia feels like she could melt into a pile of liquid. Her laugh sounded like velvet and gold, a weird way to describe a laugh but it’s the only way it makes sense to Dia. Dia’s heartbeat echoes and she hopes, prays that mermaids don’t have super hearing. It would be embarrassing for Kanan to hear how loud it is right now.

“Wonder what she made him go all the way there for.” the mermaid muses, lifting her tail fin above the water slightly to splash the surface in an amused manor. Almost like an excited dog wagging its tail.

Dia almost falls over and clutches her chest at the image of the mermaid with puppy ears. (Like the snapchat filter, tongue out and all.)

“So, what is it you’re trying to blow up there?” Kanan asks, still as curious as ever, “Is it going to help you move me to the ocean?”

“Not quite.” Dia replies as she pulls the plastic apart to see just how much more air it needs. “It’s what I’m going to use to follow you far enough into the ocean so I can assure you’ll be safe and on your way home.”

Kanan snorts and Dia glares at her slightly.

“The plan is we blow this up here, you hoist yourself out and I guide you into the wheelbarrow half full of water, then we throw on the hat and chair and other various things to disguise you and make it look like I’m just moving a bunch of junk towards the beach so nobody stares for too long. Once we get to the ocean, I’ll help you into the water then follow you with the floating chair and we go out to the ocean and you go home.” Dia feels like that was a bit of a mouthful but Kanan laughs lightly.

“You know you could just swim in the ocean if you wanna follow me, right?” She suggests to Dia but Dia shakes her head.

“No you see, how will I be able to protect you or me from anything coming our way? I’d be too distracted swimming to keep up with you. So I brought this paddle to smack away anything that tries to harm us.”

Kanan stares at her a little bewildered before she slowly smirks.

“Okay, sure. So we’ve got you sitting on this… not inflated Britney Spears, with the paddle, and then I’m going to hold those while you wheel me to the ocean in the.. Wheelbarrow?” Kanan says, going through the gist of what Dia’s plan is and confirming if she got it right.

Well. When she says it like that it sounds a little far fetched.

“Just let me stick to blowing up this thing so we can get you home. The sooner I do, the sooner we won’t have to worry about my father.” Dia says then she grabs the chair near its spout again.

God she does not want to continue trying to blow this thing up.

Kanan looks around through the things she has there and frowns.

“Can’t you use a tool or something to make it inflate faster? What was it you guys call it.. a pimp? pimple?”

“A pump!” Dia immediately corrects, and the idea hits her like a paddle and illuminates the lightbulb above her head. “A pump! My father probably has one around here!”

It doesn’t take Dia a lot of searching- there’s a locker at the end of the dock bay filled with assorted supplies and tools. She finds the pump almost instantly and runs back to the spot where Kanan waits with the Britney Spears chair. Her face lights up as she sees the pump in Dia’s hands.

“You did have one!” She exclaims.

“Of course! What real fishing business would have a ship dock without an air pump?”

Well, Dia isn’t really sure if it’s necessary to have an air pump for fishing boats, but she’s certainly glad her father and his coworkers thought it was good to keep around.

She gets back to work, finding the little spout where a pump may go, and this time she has one. She connects the pump to the spout before she realises that this is in fact.. a manual pump. Dia almost wants to cry, but she holds it in as she steps onto the small plastic sides, bends over slightly (a lot) to reach the handle and starts pumping with all her strength. And sure enough the pump is more effective than the previous method.

Kanan is watching, the amusement evident in her face as Dia struggles with both balance and rhythm on the manual pump. Human inventions sure was something. But the speed the Britney Spears was inflating at slowed down significantly as Dia’s arms gave in faster than a moth to light.

Why was I a fool in school for cutting gym?! Dia can’t believe it, but she almost feels more out of breath using the pump than she was using her lungs as her arms burns with every movement she makes.

‘’Can I give it a try?’’ Kanan asks a little cheekily as she splashes some more water around with her tail fin.

Dia wants to say no, like the prideful stubborn adult that she is, but the mental image in her brain tells her yes, the mermaid’s arms are strong, with big and defined biceps and getting to see those arms work it...  if Dia was a roasted tomato in the past, she’s a marshmallow on fire about to get charred to death right now.

‘’Y-you may,’’ is all Dia can manage as she steps off the pump and moves it closer to the edge for Kanan to reach.

Kanan pulls herself up onto the wooden floor as best as she can, her upper body now out of the water. She bends her tail fin and rests carefully on the dock, the tips of her fin slightly covered by the waters below them. Kanan grabs the handle of the pump and lifts it up, pulling it with ease. She looks a bit surprised at how easy it was and she can’t help but smirk when she pushes her arms forward with just as much ease. She repeats these motions and Dia watches, helplessly and with a bit of envy at how easy it is for the mermaid to pump up this chair. Something that should be absolutely no problem for a slightly athletic human such as herself.

But Dia can’t stop staring. She watches as the mermaid’s flexes her very defined and strong muscle in her upper arms, and how her biceps look even bigger and stronger than they did in the water the first time Dia saw them. If Dia was just any undignified barbaric creature she might’ve been drooling right about now, but Dia had some self control, after all she was a Kurosawa, she had some dignity still left in her as she wipes the corner of her mouth real quick just in case. (When Kanan can’t’ see.)

Good thing It isn’t long before the inflatable object begins to form into the shape its meant to be and in no time at all it’s finished. Dia stops Kanan from pushing a last pump of air into it. She takes out the pump, closes up the spout and then she begins to admire their handy work.

“What.. is it?” Kanan asks, leaning towards it and poking it tentatively, a bit shocked from how sturdy the plastic is.

“A chair.” Dia answers simply.

“A chair.” Kanan repeats, staring at the words “Britney Spears” that are along the back of its purple and glittery design with lots of flowers. “It certainly is. Something.”

She turns herself towards Dia, almost directly beside her on the dock. Dia’s eyes gaze down just the slightest bit and she notices her hand is just one small slip away from touching Kanan’s. She wonders if Kanan is cold all the time, considering where she lives. Or maybe her hands would be warm from the work she did pumping up the chair. Would they be slimey, or just wet? Would they feel perfect with her fingers intertwined between hers, or maybe even better with them holding her around the waist in the tightest embra-

Dia shakes her head and smacks her cheeks and it startles Kanan ever so slightly. She tilts her head and looks bewildered at Dia and the eldest Kurosawa daughter decides they need to move out now before her mind travels to more dangerous thoughts and imaginations.

“I’ll be right back.” she says, preparing to stand, “It’s time we get you out of here and back to the ocean.”

Once Dia is on her feet again she leaves to go find the wheelbarrow where she parked it. It doesn’t take her long to find it and wheel it back over to Kanan, her own arms really getting a workout tonight, but the wheels on the wheelbarrow sure made it possible even for Dia.

Thankfully Dia had prepared enough by already filling the wheelbarrow with water with the help of a friend, the water hose that the workers would wash the different equipment with. Now all they would have to do was get Kanan into it.

When Dia comes into view again Kanan’s curiosity is sparked, this wheelbarrow looked so heavy, yet Dia seemed to be able to push it around just fine. Human inventions didn’t seem all that bad, they were quite amazing.

‘’So that is a wheelbarrow? It’s amazing, it makes it possible even for you to move really heavy things!’’ Kanan beams with that smile plastering her face whenever she learns something new and exciting, and Dia, Dia is insulted, and gay, and its unfair because Kanan was so dang cute even when she was being so blunt.

‘’Yes, now we just need to get you into it. Do you think you can lift yourself into it?’’ Dia asks, pushing the wheelbarrow as close to Kanan as she can.

‘’Maybe,’’ Kanan grabs onto the edge of the side of the wheelbarrow, slowly lifting her upper body off the wooden dock and into the wheelbarrow. When it starts to wiggle slightly Dia throws herself over the opposite site, and with some teamwork and spilled water Kanan finally makes it into the wheelbarrow.

Now with her her ‘butt’ submerged in what water was still left in the wheelbarrow Kanan lets out small giggle that turns into a full on laugh as she wiggles her tail that’s hanging off the edge in a small celebration. ‘’Dia we did it!’’

Doki doki, Dia’s heart almost stops there and then, how can this mermaid keep amazing her like this, this was bad for Dia’s health in more ways than one as she forgets how to breath when the mermaids laugh plays in her head and she soaks up the picture perfect 4K HD smile worthy of an Oscar to go along with it. Keep it together Dia, you still have a mission to complete!

But god did it take all of her not to clutch her chest at the sight. She needed to cover this girl up! Without warning she bends down to pick up a folded up beach towel and throws it over the part of Kanan’s fin that drapes on the outside the wheelbarrow. Then she throws a hat on top of her head and before Kanan can register anything else, sunglasses are shoved perfectly in place on her face.

She then turns to the blown up chair and furrows her brow. It might be a bit inconvenient transporting it this way now that Dia looks at it, but what’s done is done. She turns to Kanan for a moment, blushing in slight embarrassment as she speaks.

“H-hold onto this.” she says, grabbing the inflated chair and resting the practically weightless object onto the mermaids lap. The amount of times she's stuttered tonight is preposterous and the sooner Kanan is back at home in the ocean, the sooner she won't be suffering from being too gay to function.

Dia soon moves to the back of the wheelbarrow and with a little bit of effort, she lifts up the handles and pushes forward. The additional weight proves to be a bit of a surprise and she lurches forward, Kanan almost dropping the chair and more water spilling in the process. Kanan laughs lightheartedly while Dia tries not to trip over herself and onto the mermaid. She’s already been embarrassing enough.

After a couple trials and errors Dia finally grasps how to control the wheelbarrow with a mermaid and inflatable chair inside it. After a couple nasty sharp turns she’s out of the ships docking bay and into the evening light, the sun a deep orange and reflecting a beautiful array of colours into the sky. A perfect time for a mermaid send off if she’s honest.

She maneuvers carefully towards the beach, having a bit more difficulty the moment the wheelbarrows tire goes from solid ground to sand. Dia huffs and puts a bit more effort into it, lifting Kanan up higher and using more force from her legs to push forward. She notices Kanan’s sideways glance to look at her but she forces her gaze to stay away from that deep purple gaze. In the light of the setting sun they’re almost a wineish red colour and it’s such a distracting gaze it’s taking all of Dia not to make direct eye contact with her.

With a bit of success (Kanan caught her gaze three times and with each time she did, her eyes crinkled upward) she finally reaches the water. She drops the wheelbarrow and moves to the side of it, grabbing the chair off of Kanan’s lap. She then removes the hat, sunglasses and towel, leaving them all in a small neat pile not to far away. She can hear Kanan shifting by the sloshing sounds of the water beneath her butt in the wheelbarrow. She’s eager to get back into the ocean and back home.

Her heart aches a bit, knowing this is it. This may very well be the last time Dia will ever see Kanan again. She knows it’s a little to early to think about this but knowing there’s only a bit more time left with the cryptid does hurt. Dia would have loved to see her again and again, to learn about Kanan’s world under the sea and in turn tell Kanan tales about her life on land. There’s so many more things Dia wants to experience with this mermaid. She wishes with all her heart that they had more time together.

She takes a deep breath and taps her cheeks lightly. The angsty sadness can wait until later- right now the mission was almost at it’s end. Kanan needs to be back in the ocean where she’s safe and Dia won’t let her wait any longer. She turns back to the mermaid and hopes that she can’t see the sadness in her eyes.

“Alright Kanan, are you ready?”

Kanan’s smile becomes a toothy grin and she nods.

“Let’s do this Dia!”

‘’Here goes!!’’

Dia lifts the handles of the wheelbarrow again, there was only a whole three or four meters of sand left separating Kanan from the ocean. One big breath and Dia pushes forward with what’s left of her strength. Was the wheelbarrow always this heavy? Was it Dia’s fatigue? Was it just the sadness weighing down on her in the last moment? She can’t think about that—  she’s almost there!

The front wheel, the only wheel, on the wheelbarrow touches the water.

That’s when it happens. The wave crashes into the front of the wheelbarrow and Dia’s life is flashing before her eyes as she loses her balance, her feet slip on the sand, the wheelbarrow falls over like humpty dumpty toppling off his brick wall. They were so close.. yet Kanan goes crashing down into the wet sand and that is the last thing Dia sees before she gets a mouthful of wet sand herself.

Dia’s head hurts, but the splashing sound she hears as she opens her eyes again, could it be? Did Kanan make it into the ocean after all? She rolls over and pushes herself into a sitting position, focusing her eyes on the last spot she saw Kanan in and, she is still there, splashing at the edge of the water where waves meet sand, like the most majestic Magikarp Dia’s ever seen.

‘’Kanan are you okay!?’’ The distress in Dia’s voice was strong.

When all Dia can hear is coughing, almost like someone dying she gets even more worried and scrambles on her arms and knees over to the mermaid.

Kanan stops splashing around, calming down slowly as she looks at Dia’s face. She inches closer slowly.

‘’I’m fine Dia,” she insists with a giggle, ”I couldn’t stop laughing my fins off when we both fell.”

Just the thought of it makes her laugh again and Dia almost swoons. A smile grows on her face and she shakes her head. Kanan seems okay and that relieves her, but the grainy texture and taste of salt and sea water still coats a bit of the inside of her mouth and she turns away from the mermaid to spit what remains back onto the ground where it belongs.

There’s a bigger splash and it causes Dia to turn around. She notices Kanan has pulled herself deeper into the water, not quite fully submerged. The dorsal fin and parts of the back of her tail rise from the wave as it settles over Kanan and she keeps herself upright with her forearms. It looks as if she’s pushing herself into the wave and she lets out a content sigh when she sees another coming her way. She’s distracted if only for a moment and then realizes she should probably get ready to set out to sea with her. She swallows a bit nervously.

“W-wait! Kanan don’t go too far yet!” She calls, pushing herself onto her feet and rushing back to the sand. She grabs the inflatable chair (or attempts, it takes her a solid two times to get a good hold of it thanks to the fall) and the paddle and heads back towards the waves. She silently prays they pumped the chair up with enough air to keep it afloat while she accompanies Kanan deeper into the waters.

Once Dia has everything in a solid grip she sprints as fast as her legs can take her towards the ocean in a Baywatch run, except less graceful as the chair almost slips from her grip and every step is a battle against gravity, and how Dia wishes she could just defy it like a green Idina Menzel. The struggle was real, yet she manages to reach the edge of the water with both the Britney Spears chair and the paddle without any more accidents.

Kanan swims freely in the shallow parts of the water close to the beach, keeping a close eye on her human friend and her Britney Spears chair. When Dia had made it somewhat properly into the water, sitting unsteady on her inflatable chair Kanan swims up to her, circling her like prey. Not that Kanan has any plans on eating Dia, but it isn’t too far off from looking like a Jaws parody.

It’s when Kanan bumps the chair playfully enough that Dia gets really unsteady, her paddling uncoordinated and more of a wild splashing with her arms as she wants to cry again. The mermaid’s like a playful sea puppy and Dia’s fearing for her life, yet she can’t stop the way her heart beats out of her chest at how cute Kanan is, even if said very heckin cute mermaid is about to commit involuntary manslaughter.

“Kanan! Stop- that’s unsafe!” Dia says as she slowly realizes the two of them are drifting into the ocean more and more. The dread sets in as all of Dia’s easy escapes from the waves are virtually gone. Soon she’s going to be all the way out in the middle of the ocean with nothing but a paddle and an inflatable chair to keep her company and then the chair will deflate and before she knows it she’ll be swimming for three days before she finally-

“AAH!” Dia screams as a large wave is splashed onto her and the cold shocks her to her core.

“Sorry! It was the only way to bring you back to me.” Kanan says, though the expression on her face is more like ‘you weren’t paying attention and I wanted to punish you for that.’ The expression is lost when she notices Dia looks a little.. pale.

“Dia? Are you okay?” she asks, lifting her hands up onto the plastic and holding onto the arm of the chair, “Did my splash scare you that much?”

The concern in Kanan’s voice is surprised and she look very apologetic. Her eyes give it all away— those beautiful eyes. Fuck, the setting sun just has to make them even prettier than they were before. Dia takes a deep breath before speaking.

“The truth is I didn’t bring all of this as a..protection thing.”

“Well, that was a little obvious.”

“What?!”

“I mean,” Kanan smiles lightheartedly and gestures to the tiny paddle, “A paddle like that will get you nowhere. Literally.”

Dia’s tempted to throw it at Kanan’s stupidly gorgeous face but opts not to, instead lifting her hands up to cover her face so Kanan can’t see the extremely ripe tomato she’s about to become. Would Kanan possibly believe she got sunburnt fast?

“Seriously though,” Kanan begins again and Dia peers through her fingers to look down at her. That piercing wine coloured gaze stares at her with worry, “What’s wrong Dia? Are you okay?”

And for some reason, the embarrassment floods away. Dia doesn’t feel as nervous about admitting the truth to her. She lowers her hands and diverts her gaze to the waves that reflect the light of the lowering sun.

“I… am not the best swimmer. That is to say I, Dia Kurosawa, cannot swim. I never really learnt how and I never thought I would really need to. A little silly, when you see what kind of business my family owns and runs and-”

“Is that all?!” Kanan asks a little bewildered, cutting the brunette off from her rambling.

“Wha-” Dia narrows her gaze, perplexed. “What do you mean ‘is that it’?! This is a big deal! We’re getting deeper and deeper and soon I won’t be able to-”

“Dia. Stay with me, okay?” Kanan puts a reassuring hand onto her wrist, smiling up at the nervous girl. “You just happen to be in the middle of the ocean with one of the worlds cryptic wonders who happens to be a very talented swimmer.”

Dia wants to scoff at Kanan’s attempt of a joke but instead she just frowns at the mermaid.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to be reassuring. You’re the good swimmer here, not me.”

“What I mean is I can show you the basics. I’ve never taught a human how to swim before but I’ve seen them swimming numerous times. If you could slide into the water, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Kanan holds out her hand and looks at Dia with a gentle, inviting smile. She doesn’t remove her gaze from the nervous girl and there’s a calming aura about her— one completely different from the playful sea puppy like vibe she gave earlier. Dia doesn’t need to linger on the thought as she reaches her hand towards Kanan’s and slips it together with hers, trusting the mermaid and her words and shifting.

With a warm, excited smile Kanan holds out her other hand, gesturing for Dia to take that one as well. She does slowly, eyeing Kanan carefully. The mermaid pushes herself back a little, having to outstretch her arms alongside Dia just a bit. “I’ve got you, Dia. Slide off of the Britney Spears and into the water with me.”

Dia makes a sound of objection at Kanan’s statement but it’s nothing more than an offended sounding gasp as Kanan gives her a tiny tug forward and Dia slides into the cold water. She inhales sharply and just as the fear is setting in, Kanan squeezes her hands, bringing her back to the present and back to their current time.

“It’s okay Dia! You’re staying afloat and I’ve got you! I won’t let you drown!”

Dia’s fingers grip onto Kanan tightly and the mermaid continues to reassure her that she will be okay. She can’t think about much as Kanan instructs and guides her to kick her legs ever so slightly. when she does her body lifts and Kanan swims backwards just a bit, still holding onto her hands.

“I won’t let go- keep kicking! This is how humans do it to move forward!”

“I-I understood that!” Dia retorts flustered, but doing as told. She kicks her feet and proceeds to move forward, but not on her own. Kanan swims backward with each movement Dia makes forward. It’s nice and it’s good and Dia hates to admit how this one on one lesson with the mermaid has made swimming much easier for her.

They swim like this for a bit, Kanan guiding Dia and moving them around the water. The more Dia gets used to holding Kanan’s hands, the less she wants to let go. She’s completely content to stay here if it meant holding onto the hand of the most beautiful being in the world. Kanan’s smile is soft and Dia can’t help but return it.

It’s then Kanan pulls Dia close, letting go of her hands very briefly and instead wrapping her arms around the form of the other girl, pulling her close and hugging her tight. Dia blinks in surprise but doesn’t object to the motion, only taking in the fact that she can feel the contrast of soft skin and scales against her. They feel just like a sharks, they’re rough one way, yet smooth when she brushes her hand the other way. She blushes slightly, holding onto Kanan in return.

“Dia, I wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done.” Kanan begins in a soft voice, her arms wrapped around Dia. “You risked a lot to help me get back home and without you I really couldn’t have done it.”

Dia pulls away enough to meet Kanan’s gaze and she feels like she could melt. The silence is prolonged and Dia decides to speak.

“It’s nothing Kanan. It really isn’t.” She replies in an equally soft tone. “When I saw you I couldn’t just… let you stay there. You needed to be back here- back where it’s safest for you. As much as I would love to see you all the time, it wouldn’t be right for anyone to keep you locked away in some kind of aquarium tank or boat bay or.. or anything where you’re not free.”

Kanan’s gaze softens a bit and she smiles. There’s a playful glint in her eye and she lifts one of her hands up, brushing some wet strands of hair behind Dia’s ear. Dia almost leans into the touch of her hand but resists.

“Did you know that humans have interesting tales about the magical properties of a mermaid’s tear?” Kanan asks, keeping her eyes on Dia.

Dia blinks and shakes her head.

“No- not at all.” She admits honestly.

“Well- it’s a myth. Mermaid’s tears have no more magic than the tears of a human.” She explains, but leans her face a bit closer to her. “However they aren’t too far off. Mermaids do have something magical about them, but it’s not our tears.”

Dia is a bit perplexed and before she can ask Kanan what it is, Kanan’s arm falls and she pulls Dia close and without warning, she pulls the girl underwater. Dia’s scream is muffled, but not by water rushing into her lungs. Her eyes are screwed shut and she’s very much aware of something soft pressing to her lips.

She opens her eyes once the presence leaves and without thinking about it she inhales the sea water. Her hands shoot up to her mouth out of reflex but it’s only then she realizes that she isn’t choking. She looks to Kanan -who stays only inches away from her- and notices the tiny blush on her cheeks and the crooked grin on her face.

“A mermaid’s kiss can do many things, like giving a human the ability to breathe underwater for a small period of time.” She says, lifting her hands up to Dia’s cheeks and holding her face gently in the palms of her hands. “And this will be my gift to you, so we can enjoy our swim together for just a little bit longer. ”

Dia’s heart flips and she smiles as she moves her hand to find Kanan’s, intertwining their fingers together and letting the mermaid pull her along underneath the water’s surface.

[whoslaurapalmer]

penultimate. peril.

penultimate peril is my absolute favorite in the series and these episodes somehow simultaneously lived up to and didn’t even meet my expectations 

-the “welcome little baby” line!!!! but isn’t that actually from the end? -OH GOD -THERE HE IS -LEMONY -AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA -no brunch. no distraught kit. no brunch.  -compared to in previous eps, klaus being the pro-vfd one, now violet is! “of course we will!” UGGGG -STILL NOT DISTRAUGHT -olaf has more pressing problems in his life and better things to do than trying to prove something to the man and the woman  -”e is for ernest who is evil” WHOA THERE -I THOUGHT SHE WAS JUST GONNA SAY ENEMY -EVIL  -no brunch. no baby room wallpaper line. no distraught kit. -i’m sorry but i just can’t get behind bertrand being the one with glasses. bea had glasses and she hated wearing them and rarely wore them. -no “your father got that same look on his face whenever he was thinking” none of that, huh. -OH!!!! THERE WE GO!!!! THE SHORTEST MENTION OF BEING DISTRAUGHT AND PREGNANT EVER!!!!!!!!!  -young!!!!! lemon!!!!!!!! -dewey saying a line that was absolutely from lemony’s letter to bea and saying it to kit is, weird. -oh so they’re. playing it like that’s ernest. like kit’s with ernest. mmmmmmmm. cause someone who hasn’t read the books wouldn’t know about dewey yet. mmmmmmm. really. i see. -WHAT IS THIS TIMELINE -WHAT THE HELL -lemon. -hey. where are their. you know. sunglasses. -oh i love the triplets walking behind the desk, that was STELLAR AND I LOVED IT -tv was made to portray the three different chapters of violet and klaus and sunny’s different adventures in the hotel. like, it’s worth it just to be able to see them play out like this cause they STILL play out like they did in the books, one at a time, and it!!!! it’s so good!!!!!! IT WAS SO GOOD -i was so disappointed to not see hal, though. i really wanted to see hal. i was actually. excited for that..... -oh so now nero has replaced geraldine. -changing so much of the......background mystery of the show and seeing it play out just made me feel like the JS mystery didn’t fit in the show now -- especially because in the books, even justice strauss doesn’t know, right????? but as revealed later on, they were all?????? working together???????? it just doesn’t sit right with me  -THE WRONGS. WERE BEAUTIFUL. OH MY GOD. -that was. the best thing in the world. god it was so good. it sounded. forgive me. so right.  -babs.........and jerome...................... -jerome!!!!! and charles????????? okay!!!!!! i could dig it if it wasn’t another throwaway line about vague distant background representation that we never see -same with babs and mrs bass -LARRY -I FUCKING SCREAMED WHEN LARRY SHOWED UP OH MY GOD i thought they’d just cut him right out too. -OLAF AS JACQUES I’M FUCKING DYING that was hilarious. so good. oh my god. the eyebrow. -yay. creepy olaf. is olaf.  -fortunes? not finance? -mr poe just changed personality but somehow still stayed exactly the same. what the hell. -lasso reveal -- YIPPIE  -YIPPIE KI YAY -yippie. ki, yay.  -re: larry -- it’s more fun to hear about the absurd moments in the series, including the absurd deaths, because then they’re amusing but we don’t see them and it makes up the fabric of the story and can still be serious, but seeing larry get boiled in a giant vat of curry, like, seeing it happen, was........well..............mmmm. it took that away. seeing it made it feel more weird dark spy than weird absurd spy. i don’t know what i’m going for here. made sense when i wrote it on my phone during the ep. makes less sense now trying to type it after.  -but i stand by whatever the hell i just said there -elephant!!!! i got my elephant story reference!!!!! i got it!!!!! oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it was there!!!!!!  -actual justice strauss!!!! i legit thought they would cut her out. -but her presence, after watching larry and jacquelyn and jacques and olivia, has none of the meaning it had before in the book, seeing her show up out of nowhere and hearing her talk about following them. because we’ve seen other adults follow them now. -okay, look, the thing is, there’s no way lemony doesn’t know who those kids are. -also, side note, you think kit played by allison williams looks old enough to be having her fourth child, lemony?????? -i guess it depends on how you want to view the timeline, and there are people who view lemony as having worked on the series for years, and babybea finding him before the 13th book came out, because the beatrice letters was released before it, and in-universe it would take time to put all this together and take the same length of time as the real-life publishing of the books, but  -at the same time there are enough hints in the story that also place lemony, by slippery slope, close to where the baudelaires are in their story. at least that’s the way i prefer to see it. so this????? i’m not having any of this  -i don’t like the triumphant music when dewey talks. he should be a lot more harried than this  -OH THEY’LL LEAVE VFD TO RAISE BABYBEA BUT LEAVE THE LIBRARY IN THE HANDS OF THREE SMALL CHILDREN  -”is a safe life really enough” hey fuck you -where’s dewey’s soft and kind “noble enough” line. where is that. fuck you for taking that away from me. -BEATRICE STOLE IT FROM MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE -why. did you change olaf saying “what choice do i have” to “what else do i know how to do” 

-OPERA -oh my god esme and kit and LEMONY AND OLAF -that typewriter.............oh my child  -so. olaf’s parents or at least his father. not being presented as firestarters.  -WIFE DIED IN A FIRE -I’M SORRY, WIFE DIED IN A FIRE????? -this isn’t even what the taxi driver said anyway. -god life made so much more sense when lemony was not the taxi driver and he was just a mysterious figure i hate this  -walking away from lemony did break my heart but i also didn’t like any of this scene at all so. who knows what i’m feeling today, cats  -olaf. in the closet. not the kids. mkay. -not to be such a book stickler but...........man...................................... -blind justice!!! -PURPLE DRESS -PURPLE HELQUIST DRESS -no.......blind.......justice?????? just????? at the end???????  -i’m actually gonna cry during the kids’ court speech oh no my babies  -THEY CALL OLAF TO THE STAND?????????????????????????  -i know it’s probably just because she calls everyone darling but man young!esme is just fucking in love with everyone isn’t she  -straight up thought she was on a date with kit before olaf was in the scene in the first opera flashback, honestly  -it completes her tea set. -i mean it’s a shallow enough reason for esme but also esme is. more than a shallow person like i don’t care for her much but i know that i think she’d have a better reason than ‘it completes my tea set’  -THEY JUST WALK OFF WITH IT. JUST LIKE THAT. -no big deal but lemony mentions somewhere in the series (slippery slope?) that it was actually kit’s idea to use the sugar bowl as a container.  -”We’re all friends here” WHY WOULD KIT SNICKET EVER SAY THAT  -it looks. it really looks like they framed the murder of olaf’s father. as an accident. and i don’t like that. i don’t like that at all. i hate it with every fiber of my being.  -also the schism happened before that incident but whatever.  -ALSO. I’VE SAID IT BEFORE. I’LL SAY IT AGAIN. NOWHERE IS IT EVER IMPLIED THAT THE DEATH OF OLAF’S PARENTS AND THE THEFT OF THE SUGAR BOWL HAPPEN ON THE SAME NIGHT AND I HATE THAT THEY PLACED THEM ON THE SAME NIGHT I HATE THAT TOO -pepper. -it was pepper.  -once again. “burn down hotel” was also a moment. that needed to be slowed down.  -this season is actually lacking a good deal of the lemony narration that would have slowed down certain scenes in a good way  -lemony wasn’t even holding a dart. why do they think lemony killed olaf’s father???????  -okay i actually went back and rewatched that and he WAS holding a dart. -i’m not gonna get into my perception of lemony post-atwq and how he feels about murder after that, okay, i’m not, i don’t have the energy  -but fuck you for having him hold a poison dart  -so no break up letter. not at all. he just. says those words to her. that’s all.  -and you know why that pisses me off? because it takes away the real reasons behind lemony and bea’s breakup. it takes away lemony’s cowardice and bea’s impulsiveness and the arson accusations and going on the lam and all the implied everything about it and the fact that it’s vfd and the ideals and what they’ve been forced to do and be that breaks them up and reduces it to.........this. ten seconds. that’s what their relationship is.  -so no, i did not like the weird......timeline travel montage with the photographs and the background song...........the only thing i felt was ‘are you guys serious about doing this.’ 

[nothingneverforever]

The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

I remember sitting through the first episode of this series with my mom, thinking that it wasn't the best option for us to commit to, worrying that it would be a waste of our precious mother-daughter bonding time. The pacing of the first/second episode was too.. American, the emotional expressions too unsubtle, leaving little room for my audience participation, the acting too stilted, and the actors behaving too much like stage thespians .. and because I'd chosen the series after seeing rave reviews online, I remember sitting through the first episode thinking, huh, this is the shit people been losing their minds over?

And then.... suddenly, quickly, it became one of the most deeply affecting and disturbing shows I'd experienced, and thus eventually, one of my favourites. I'm deciding to write this now, about 9 months after I finished the series, because I've just started on The Haunting of Bly Manor, which is described as a "follow-up" series to Hill House. The narratives are not connected, but much of the cast and crew are the same, which is nice because I was so so so so so impressed with the acting of these specific returning actors in Hill House, and after reading a little more into the production process, I've been allowed to understand that the crew is fucking epic and genius as fuck too. I love this series!!!!!

The title of a Youtube video that I love a great deal on this series, by one of my absolute favourite film analysis video essayists, Ladyknightthebrave, is: Stretching Genre - A Haunting of Hill House Video Essay. And maybe this is what I'll talk about first - genre. I've never particularly cared for 'horror' because I'd rather be able to engage with themes and tropes I can relate to in my own life, stories that resemble my own world from my own ever-romantic perspectives. I've always wanted to delve into horror, to appreciate the elaborately designed surfaces as well as be affected in whatever ways by any depth of conversation or concept, but I don't think I've ever been able to achieve any of this. I've tried to enjoy both superficially (i.e. entertainment value) and also more real-ly many horror productions, but always left with a deep sense of meh.  Crimson Peak (which I reviewed here back in 2016) might be the closest I've come to engaging genuinely with anything from this broad genre, but even then I think I liked it more for its kitsch value, its beautiful beautiful beautiful soundtrack, than for the genre-specific parts of the narrative. But I mean, everything makes a film right? The soundtrack and the costumes and the acting are the horror elements in themselves too, I know.

Even then, a lot of the simple reactions I've read for Hill House are ones of surprise, where audiences went in not realizing that a series with the words The Haunting of.. in its title would leave them feeling utterly heartbroken, distraught (sad), emotionally-invested as it were any other drama series. In that Ladyknightthebrave video I mentioned, at multiple points in her essay she says, simply, "hey,... I'm sad" when referencing a particular scene or conversation. And that was, too, my overwhelming reaction to the whole series.... I'm sad!!!!!

Perhaps I should describe the plot a little first.. so the Cranes are a family of 7, mother and father and 5 lovely children: in descending order of age, they are Steve, Shirley, Theo, and twins Luke and Eleanor (Nelly). Here is the official synopsis:

This modern reimagining of the Shirley Jackson novel follows siblings who, as children, grew up in what would go on to become the most famous haunted house in the country.. Now adults, they are forced back together in the face of tragedy and must finally confront the ghosts of their past. Some of those ghosts still lurk in their minds, while others may actually be stalking the shadows of Hill House.

And, from wikipedia, here are some of the notable reviews of the series:

Corrine Corrodus of The Telegraph graded the series with a 5/5 rating, calling it "the most complex and complete horror series of its time." Brian Tallerico of RogerEbert.com gave unanimous praise to the Netflix adaptation, describing it as "essential viewing," and stated that "[the show] contains some of the most unforgettable horror imagery in film or television in years." David Griffin of IGN gave the series a rating of 9.5 out of 10, calling it "a superb and terrifying family drama," and Paul Tassi of Forbes described it as "absolutely fantastic" and stated that "it may actually be Netflix's best original show ever."

Horror author Stephen King, who holds considerable admiration for Jackson's novel, tweeted about the series, "I don't usually care for this kind of revisionism, but this is great. Close to a work of genius, really. I think Shirley Jackson would approve, but who knows for sure."

Filmmaker Quentin Tarantino, in interview with The Jerusalem Post said, "My favorite Netflix series, with no competition, is The Haunting of Hill House."

Due to obvious reasons I give zero fucks about what either King or Tarantino might have to say about, uhh, anything on this planet, but YASSSS RETWEET everything above!!! It is essential viewing!!! Indeed the most complex and complete series of its time!!! Unforgettable imagery!!!

Okie so now on to my own original thots... 

My main learning was this: Horror, i.e. the presence of something horrific, for it's characters in the show/story, isn't about feeling frightened or them 'losing their minds' or being driven to questioning their own perceptions of reality or anything like what we've seen in the last 7 decades or so of seeing the genre develop and evolve. In Mike Flanagan's beautiful ode to Shirley Jackson's incredible story, we come to understand that horror is only ever about genuine trauma. I guess, like I talked about earlier, I never really understood what horror's raison d'etre was at all.. like... why?? What is the greater, lasting impact of having audiences shaking in their boots? What is intended by eliciting a gasp or a scream? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS?!

I asked, and I've been asking and asking for years, and finally Hill House provided: Horror is, in fact, about unspeakable pain.. Pain that has no outlet in a world that will only ever be skeptical of such experiences... it's about being genuinely haunted in such a way that you can never dream of stability in your life ever again; it's about developing into a closed-off, maladjusted adult, knowing that your experiences of early life cannot be related to anyone else's in any way, not even that of your siblings. I remember taking away this lesson very early on in the series, possibly midway through the second episode. Because the siblings (Steve, Shirley, Theo, Luke, Nelly) are all utterly flawed and thus 'real' characters, we're able to quickly why they are the ways they are. (Important note: the siblings are not flawed in ways that make them unlikable at all, or unrelatable, or downright unpleasant to watch - this is a flaw that other productions have definitely fallen prey to before in the name of achieving that 'realness' however Hill House judges things so perfectly that we are endeared to their flaws and never put off by them.) Their disparate experiences with Hill House growing up, their subsequent very personal meaning-making journeys (some looking more like denial, some resulting in substance dependency), their different levels of having access to the 'truths' about what went on in that cursed home, all of this meant that the siblings ended up, where we see them in 'current day', being broken adults with a lot of misplaced anger, unprocessed trauma, and resentment toward one another. It is the aloneness in all their experiences that is the true horror, and the horrors were a very personal, existential kind and so there was no room for mutual bonding and sharing until it was too late, until their babiest of baby sisters had lost herself to the pressures calling her ‘home’.

And suddenly, I realised: this is the true evil. Ghosts don't ruin lives by doing a good epic scare here and there or by turning your irises white by revealing some fucking scary shit: ghosts are seriously... so... fucking... evil because they ruin your whole entire lives..!!! Horrifying realities take the form of many different things, even if they all originate from one main source. The Crane siblings, as children, had to deal at once with their mother being predisposed to falling victim to the spirits of the house due to, as hinted, mental health conditions of her own, while also dealing with differently confusing aspects of a house and a home that taunted them by making them feel unsafe and secure all at once. Now I say all this from an.. artistic appreciation pov, because I am myself unconvinced that the 'supernatural' or anything of a spiritual realm influences our daily lives. Which is all the more significant, right? That a ""skeptic"" like myself (although I'm not an insensitive and stubborn over-rationalizing dumb male like Steve is in the show) could suddenly realise the tragic effects on many many vulnerable souls of a world that clutching on to its medical models and objective scientific truths.

From the series' wiki page: The Haunting of Hill House received critical acclaim, particularly for its acting, directing, and production values, with many calling it an "effective ghost story."

So yea... finally I know what that means. Finally I know what effect a ghost story can and should have. Finally I understand the potential of the genre!!! Sigh there is literally SO much I could say about how and why this is the best series in the world but maybe I'll stop here for now..? There would be no end if I were to discuss everything because it's one of those series that has 'easter eggs', in the form of hidden ghosts (visual) lurking in the dark or specific lines that foreshadow something else later on, but I've never really cared much to 'reveal' these things so yea, go forth and enjoy this best show everrrrr :-)

(For example there is a lot of discussion online about how each of the 5 siblings represent the 5 different stages of grief à la Kübler-Ross, with the eldest Steve being in complete denial that there was ever any supernatural presence to explain their experience, Shirley reacting with sheer anger to all around her, Theo bargaining her way through her own internal conflicts, Luke being surrounded by swirling depression fueling his drug dependency, and Nell eventually accepting the so-called inevitable, etc etc etc but this kinda analysis is a little too lowbrow and heavy-handed for me to get into so yea haha)

There is a specific dialogue that I want to reference however on my way out: when Nell's suicide/death is revealed early in the series, Shirley has the difficult talk with her young children about it. And these 2 simple lines umm basically summarize the entire plot:

Shirley's son: Why did she die? Shirley: I don't know.. I'm just so sad that she did

Everyone watching the show would relate to that immediately but also that sentiment rings more and more and more true as the episodes come to reveal what a painfully innocent and giving soul Nell was... :(

So sad !!!!!

----------

Edit: copying below my mom’s initial thoughts after I forced her to read this post hehe, because her words describe a lot of what I think and feel too, and because I want to remember our discussion and reflection forever!

Each of us -  lives scarred at some time – in some private way – religion drowns it, cosmetises – but horror – is the Couch of reflection, reliving and something of a letting it out.  Feeling again the horror/fear/anxiety/pain/aloneness of that  real trauma – but in an shared room, even if only shared with an older, saner, wiser, learning you.

[batwayneman]

Accomplice Chapter 8

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Jim was only halfway through his shift when he started to head towards the commissioner's office, simply because his mountain of paperwork was beginning to take over his desk. Most of it was paperwork that had to be taken to commissioner Eaton, and Jim tended to put that off as much as possible to avoid the man.

Even the one thing they might have found a common ground in - the arrest of a serial killer - had been soiled, because Jim had known that Eaton was only happy because Zsasz and Penguin had been going after Falcone, and locking him took the pressure off Eaton.

It hadn't been enough to completely spoil their victory, but it had been a rude reminder that the fight against the mobs wasn't close to being done yet.

His arms hadn't quite gotten tired of carrying his files when he opened the door to the hallway that led to the commissioner's office. He turned a corner and was surprised to see that he wasn't alone in this part of the building, considering that the sun had gone down, and that most civilians weren't allowed in this area.

The couple was staggering down the hallway, leaning heavily on each other. An officer was walking behind them, trying and failing not to look sheepish as he escorted them.

The look on their faces made Jim stop dead. The man was openly weeping, tears rolling down his face; his black skin shining in their wake. But the expression on the woman’s face was one that Jim had seen far too often. She looked torn between screaming in rage and crumpling - like her whole world had already collapsed, and she was trying to figure out what to do next.

It was an expression Jim very rarely saw outside of giving terrible news to family members when tragedy stuck.

"What's wrong? What can I do to help?" Jim asked urgently, ignoring the officer standing behind them.

"Just get out of my way. Please, just -" Her voice caught on a sob as Jim backed into the wall to get out of the way as they slowly hobbled down the hall. The officer with them looked at him, but didn’t say anything before following.

Jim watched them leave, mind swirling with confusion. There were only so many things that could make a couple look like their world had ended, and only so many reasons that civilians would ever make it to this hallway. He looked from where they had come from, narrowing his eyes.

Anger steeped hot fury into Jim's veins as he walked to the commissioner's office, opening the door so forcefully it slammed into the wall.

"What the hell was that?" He asked as a way of greeting, letting his files bang sharply on the desk.

"Captain Gordon, thank you for the paperwork." Eaton sat calmly at his computer, looking up at Jim with his rehearsed smile.

"Who was that couple, coming from your office?" he demanded. The commissioner's blasé attitude was doing nothing to calm his trembling anger.

Eaton lowered his eyes and sighed, visibly rallying himself as he realized Jim wasn't going to let it drop. "That couple is in... hysterics because they believe their twins have been kidnapped. It's all under control, and none of your business Gordon."

"If their kids are missing then we can file a report. It's not that late, if we need to start searching it's best -"

Eaton's expression turned hard. "I said that it is under control. There is no point in looking for those children."

Jim opened his mouth to retort, but paused. There was something, something in Eaton's expression, or something in the way he said 'point', in the way he couldn't quite meet Jim's eyes.

Terrible realization bloomed in his mind, as he unwaveringly put pieces together from a case he was supposed to have left alone months ago.

"Where did they go missing?" he asked quietly, dread clenching tight in his gut.

Please, not this.

"Gordon -"

"At the corner of 26th and Eagle? Around the bus stop right? Their kids didn't come home from school, and now no one can find them. Right?" Jim all but snarled, words coming faster and faster.

He just knew that the missing kids were connected to his old case - his human trafficking investigation, the one he had been working on when poor Mike Penn had walked in, talking nonsense about a "Batman" that would soon prove to be true. Jim may have been removed from the case in lieu of Tolbert, but he had never forgotten the details, not really. Adults yes, but mostly children going missing around a particular corner. Falcone's human trafficking cartel that the commissioner had protected then.

The same one he was protecting now.

"You son of a bitch," Jim growled. "It's Falcone's kidnapping ring. You're covering for him. Tell me I'm wrong."

Eaton scowled fiercely but didn't deny it. "It's business, Gordon."

"BUSINESS?!"

"AND," Eaton raised his voice over Jim's, standing up, "You will leave this case alone, do you hear me?"

"Fuck you. Go to hell."

"Gordon-"

"YOU ARE ASKING ME TO PUT A GANGSTER'S PAYCHECK OVER CHILDREN'S LIVES!" Jim roared.

They stared at each other, Jim heaving in anger.

"Yes, I am." Eaton said, quieting suddenly, deadly serious when he met Jim's stare. "This is Gotham, you knew what you were getting into."

Jim shook his head. "No."

No, Gotham didn't have to be this way. No, Jim wasn't going to ignore this case because a goddamn gangster wanted him to.

"Fuck you," he repeated for good measure, turning to leave.

"I hope they kill you Gordon," Commissioner Eaton said, sitting down again with an oil-slick smile. "I really do."

Jim slammed the door shut.

It wasn't until Jim had been driving in his car at breakneck speeds for over five minutes that it occurred to him that he may not have thought his plan all the way through.

He didn't have nearly as many clues as he would prefer, to be out driving around like a madman. He remembered that the disappearances kept happening around 26th street and Eagle Boulevard, but once he had started sniffing around in Falcone's territory any further, he had been removed from the case.

So he was flying blind; his only new knowledge was that twins had gone missing from the area he had already known was suspicious.

Since he had left the GCPD, the weather had turned ferocious. An intense rain had started; slamming huge raindrops against his windshield. His wipers were moving so fast it seemed like they would fly right off the car, but the rain continued to blur the road ahead regardless.

Reluctantly, he slowed the car to a slightly more reasonable level, but didn't stop until he reached Eagle. It didn't take very long; most people had been scared inside by the weather, leaving him free to speed.

When he arrived, he pulled over with an abrupt jerk of his arm, trying to think past his furiously pounding heart. There was so much potential area to cover, and the kidnappers had had hours to flee and hole themselves up with the kids somewhere.

He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took slow, deep breaths, forcing aside the useless anger that had pulled him to the middle of Gotham, alone, without a clue where he was going.

Inhale.

He had to find the kids; the longer the wait the less chance they had of making it back to their parents.

Exhale.

He was the only one looking, and he had to start somewhere.

He put his glasses back on, anger sharpening into focus, and pulled back onto the street. He would just have to drive around, maybe visit the bus stop that he had once thought was suspicious to see if there was something he could find.

He hadn't even made it to the end of the block when he slammed on the breaks, just barely catching movement out of the corner of his eye.

A man had jumped out of an alley at the side of the road, waving his hands in the air. He didn't stop even after Jim screeched to a stop, instead stepping further into the road and coming around to Jim's driver-side door. Up close, Jim recognized him as one of Gotham's homeless, from the scraggly beard and the old, dirty coat he was clinging too.

He was speaking, but Jim couldn't hear what he was saying over the pounding rain on the roof of his car.

Making a snap decision, he pulled his trench-coat tighter around himself, and stepped out of the car, locking it behind him. The man, seeing that Jim was going to talk to him, ran back towards the alley he came out of, checking to make sure that Jim was following.

In the short amount of time it took them to reach the shelter of tarp on top of two large trash bins pulled close together, Jim was absolutely soaked. They both ducked under the tarp quickly, Jim shaking the water off his glasses so he could see.

Not that there was much in the make-shift shelter to see. The man had a well-worn backpack leaning against one of the bins, and a plastic grocery bag next to it, tied with a knot on top. The man himself was slightly hunch-backed, with wrinkles sitting deep in his withered face, beneath the thin grey hair that had been plastered to his scalp by the rain.

Despite the storm, he was smiling; hints of missing teeth could be seen through his lips.

"I thought they weren't sending anyone!" The old man exclaimed happily, eyes alight.

"I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" Jim had to yell to be heard over the thunderous sound of the rain hitting the tarp roof. The neighbouring buildings weren't doing much to protect them from the downpour.

The man's face fell slightly. "You ain't here for the weird building?"

"I don't - What building?" Jim asked, frustrated at feeling a step behind in the conversation. He had thought the man was flagging him down because there was a crime. The nagging sense that he was wasting time was like fire under his skin.

"That old factory on 26th," the man said.

"On 26th?" Jim confirmed, tasting anticipation in the back of his throat. His stomach dropped even as his heart started pounding with excitement.

"Yeah! I've seen this weird truck going in and out, in and out. And the building lights on at weird times. And -" his face crumpled slightly, looking distraught - "I swear I saw a kid in the window once, but there wasn't nothing I could do. I tried to tell the police station 'bout a week ago, but the officer there wouldn't listen, and kicked me out."

The flash of anger at the officer was quickly quelled by the thrill of having a lead. "Where's the building?"

"Just a few minutes north on 26th after a left turn. Are you going to check it out?" His eyes were lighting up again.

"Yes, I am," Jim promised. "You stay here, alright? Where it's safe and dry." He paused, suddenly realizing something. "What's your name sir?"

"The name's Johnson," he said, sounding faintly relieved.

Jim shook his hand quickly."Thank you Mr Johnson," he said sincerely, before ducking out from under the tarp and sprinting back to his car, taking off again into the storm.

Tucked into an alley hidden out of sight from the factory in question, Jim picked up his phone for the first time that night and dialled Sarah's number automatically.

Sarah and Bullock - and Renee, when she had still been in Gotham - always got so mad when Jim didn't wait for backup to arrive, especially in situations like this one, when he really shouldn't go in alone.

He was going to anyway.

Every instinct told him that the missing twins were in there, and he wasn't going to make them wait a second longer to be rescued.

But at the very least he should call and ask for backup, even if he had no intentions of waiting.

"What's wrong?" Sarah greeted him with when she picked up the phone after only two rings. Jim's lips quirked up in a half smile; they both knew that there weren't any good reasons to call each other in the middle of the night.

"I'm about to enter that abandoned factory on 26th. It's where Falcone was hiding his human trafficking ring, there are kids in there now and -"

"Jim slow down, I can barely understand you. You need backup?" She asked, interrupting his tirade.

"Yes, at the abandoned factory on 26th street. It's number 386," he added, squinting through the rain at the address.

"You can't call it into the station? Get backup from someone who's supposed to actually be awake?"

Jim thought of Eaton, sitting at his desk, and the officer who had ignored Johnson's tip. "No, I can't."

"OK," she accepted immediately. Even through Jim's jittery desperation to get into the factory he felt a rush of relief, of gratefulness that Sarah had understood why he couldn't call to the rest of the GCPD for help, and was willing to trust him.

There was a brief second of silence over the phone.

"Just stay where you are Jim, I'll be there as soon as I can, I'm just going to-"

"Sorry, no time." Jim cut her off, leaving only the echo of the phone beeping between them, trusting that she was on her way.

He was sorry, in theory. He felt bad about hanging up on her, but wasn't apologetic at all about going in alone to rescue the kids.

As Johnson had mentioned, the building in question was easy to spot; being the only one on the abandoned street with its lights on.

Jim held his hand over his glasses as he jogged toward the building, trying ineffectively to shield his glasses from the rain. Staying out of any potential lines of sight, he positioned himself near the closest door. He put his ear to the door, but the still pounding rain made it impossible to hear if there was anyone directly on the other side.

Crouching down, he routinely checked his gun, before opening the door as slowly as he possibly could.

It was only when he was halfway done easing himself through the door silently that it occurred to him that he had left his bulletproof vest at the GCPD. He allowed himself one second to dwell on his own stupidity, before continuing through the door.

The door did not make a sound when it closed behind him. The building itself had clearly been a factory at one point, though what it had once made had been lost to time. The room only lit from one side; creating slanted shadows. Crates and heavy-duty boxes had been added to the building, where they blocked his view of the main room, but peering around them, it seemed that the whole room was divided into a maze of corridors, created by the boxes and crates.

The sound of the rain had died off when Jim had shut the door, and he could hear voices coming from what seemed to be the center of the room. He paused where he was crouched near the door, but couldn't hear anyone approaching him, so he started walking.

His heart was thudding through his whole body as he made his way slowly towards where the voices were coming from, taking care to check all around him before moving, painfully aware of his own lack of backup.

From around the corner of a particularly large crate, he saw his first clear line of sight to the middle of the room.

A group of men- maybe a dozen or so - were either sitting or standing around a radio that sat in the middle of a table. A few of them had their guns clutched in their hands, on guard, but most were relaxed, sitting casually.

One of the men turned slightly, and as the light hit the gun Jim recognized it as the same model as the ones that Eaton had brought in for his Batman task force. Jim ducked back behind the crate, letting the wave of fury and adrenaline subside - hasty, angry actions would do nothing to help him right now.

Now that he was closer to the noise, he could make out their individual voices over the radio. One of the men with the military guns was muttering something about the truck being on its way.

Jim exhaled slowly. It was good to know that, even if he was horribly outnumbered, at least he knew had made the right choice in entering the building as soon as he could, instead of waiting for his own backup.

He peaked back around the crate, scanning for - there - nearly hidden in the shadows of a shipping crate were the missing children, hunched together tightly.

Thankfully they were sitting far enough away from the main group that Jim could sneak over to them while staying out of sight.

As he got closer to them, he could see that their young, thin arms had actually been bound with some kind of rope; standing out harshly against their dark skin in the industrial lights.

He forced himself to think apart from his anger - there would be plenty of time for that once the kids were safe. He positioned himself just on the side of the shipping container, hugging the shadows as much as he could. He'd just have to hope that they wouldn't make any noise.

"Shhh, don't say anything. I'm a police officer, and you're going to be alright, but I need you to be really quiet, ok?" he whispered to them, head ducked low, making sure to keep his voice calm and soothing; fighting against the instinctive tension in his muscles from being so close to the danger.

One twin - the young boy - jumped at the sound of Jim's voice, but thankfully didn't make a sound. His sister twisted her head around to look at him, the look of terror on her tear-streaked face steeling Jim's resolve.

Here, in his element, it was so much easier to be brave when there were children right in front of him who needed help.

He glanced over his glasses at the large blurs that were the kidnappers, but they were all too engrossed in the game on the radio to be watching the kids.

"I'm going to cut the ropes, so you need to stay as still and quiet as you possibly can, alright?"

He waited for both of them to nod before he silently slipped his knife out of its holder. It would be useless in a fight, but he always carried one just for a situation like this.

It seemed to take him forever to cut the ropes; the fibres were tougher than they looked, every move had to be made so carefully - so deliberately - so as not to accidentally hurt one of the kids, or make a noise.

A sudden burst of loud cries of anger rang from the table. The twins flinched back, and Jim froze halfway through cutting through a strand of rope, thinking they had been discovered, but it had only been one of the Knight's players striking out.

A cold trail of water ran down the back of his neck from where it had dripped off his hair from the rain.

When the last bit of rope finally fell off their wrists, he let himself feel a brief thrill of triumph before refocusing.

"As quietly and as quickly as you can, you're going to come around behind this crate, OK? Go now," he said, voice still just barely above a whisper.

The kids scurried away, a little faster than what was probably prudent, but Falcone's men seemed more entranced in the Knight's attempt at a come-back to be paying close attention.

Jim followed right behind them until they were all crouched around the corner of the crate, truly out of sight for the first time. The twins looked unhurt, though he noticed with a pang of sorrow that they were still clutching each other; probably only around seven years old but looking far younger with fear all over their faces.

"What are your names?" He asked gently, trying not to sound as rushed as he felt. They were by no means out of danger yet, and all of their lives relied on them trusting and listening to him, and he knew they would be more comfortable if he knew their names.

"I'm Kayla and my brother is Kevin," Kayla whispered, so quietly that Jim could barely hear her.

Jim smiled softly. "You guys are doing great. You're going to walk ahead of me, we're going to the door." He wanted to keep himself between the group of men and the kids, if he could.

They nodded shakily. They all set off, ducking around and between the containers and crates on their way towards the exit.

They hadn't made much progress when noises that didn't come from the radio rang around the room, and Jim's heart dropped in his stomach.

He should have known their luck wasn't going to hold out.

Shouts of anger and swearing rang out around the building, but Jim could clearly hear "Just spread out and find them!" over the cacophony of sounds.

His heart dropped in his chest, bitter disappointment and fear flooding the back of his throat.

"Go, go hide!" he whispered harshly, heart starting to pound anew. Eyes wide and terrified, Kevin let his sister pull him away from Jim, and they ran. He watched them, crouched slightly against a metal shipping container, as Kayla pulled her brother into a crack between two shipping crates.

Once he was satisfied that they were as safe as they reasonably could be, he started walking down the little hallway, drawing his gun and clicking off the safety.

He didn't have a chance of hiding; the best he could do was try to defend where they were hiding without giving them away, and hope that they could escape themselves, if it came to that.

As plans went, it was pretty fucking awful.

Jim stood beside one of the shipping containers, about fifteen feet from where the twins had disappeared between the crates. The room had gone completely silent; all Jim could hear was his own harsh breathing and the stupid radio. His hands tightened around his gun.

He crept along the shipping crate, moving to check around the corner. He started.

Right in front of him was one of the men, clearly also in the process of looking around the corner. The man reeled back in shock. As if in slow motion, Jim saw him starting to bring his gun level to shoot.

Jim didn't even try to aim his gun - they were too close together. Automatically he pulled his hands back, slamming them down as hard as he could, pistol-whipping the man before he could get a shot off.

The man crumpled, falling to the ground with a hoarse yell that was like a cold dagger in Jim's gut.

Everyone would have heard the shout - everyone knew where he was.

He didn't even have time to curse, whirling around at the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. Another gangster emerged from the other side of the shipping container, grinning as he held up a long knife threateningly - they had been trying to flank him.

This time the man was far enough away that Jim had time to level his gun and aim. His lumbering steps got faster, the cruel grin fading to a snarl as he saw the gun in Jim's hand, but he didn't pause. Light glinted off the knife in his hand.

Jim pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the man in his shoulder, ripping through his shirt and into his body. The charging man didn't even flinch, taking another bounding step towards him.

Great. The man was so high that he wasn't even feeling fucking pain.

He was close now, nearly on top of Jim. He fired another shot, aiming for the chest this time, but the man lurched to the side at the last second, and the bullet hit him the shoulder again. He raised his knife, moving to stab Jim.

Instinctively, Jim let go of his gun with one hand, moving to block the incoming knife. It stopped a few inches above his chest, but the gangster took advantage of Jim's looser grip on his gun, knocking it out of his hand with a rough smack. It clattered as it skipped and bounced on the floor; landing where Jim couldn't see it.

He didn't waste any time mourning the loss of his weapon. Still holding the man's wrist in one hand, he punched the sensitive joint as hard as he could. The man ripped his hand out of Jim's grip with a shout as it went numb, this time the pain making it past the drug-addled brain. The knife slipped out of his unfeeling fingers, landing far away.

Much fairer. If Jim didn't have his gun, then he wouldn’t let him keep his knife.

The gangster didn't seem bothered by the loss of the weapon, clenching his fist and swinging his hand to try to punch Jim in the face. He dodged it easily enough, managing to land his own glancing blow across the other man's cheek before stepping back slightly. He could barely feel the ache in his knuckles over the pounding of his heart.

The gangster came in again for another punch, but this time Jim was too focused on finding an opening to end the fight to recognize the man's other fist coming at his face until it was too late.

Jim's head snapped back with the force of the punch, nose and cheekbone exploding in pain. He staggered back a few steps, one hand automatically coming up to ensure his glasses stayed on his face. Hot blood gushed out of his nose, covering his mouth and his chin. Opening his eyes - he wasn’t sure when he had closed them - he was able to dodge another punch just in time, ducking out of the way, hearing the rush of air as the fist narrowly missed his ear.

He kept moving in the direction of his dodge - out of the way of the wildly swinging fists, before coming in again. With a loud grunt, Jim slammed his fist into the gangster’s diaphragm. While the man was gasping for breath, Jim shoved him against the shipping container, holding him with one hand even as he pulled the other one back, clenching his fist. The gangster brought his own hands up, ready to block or attack.

The lights went out.

Jim flinched back slightly, eyes automatically darting around, trying to find the threat. In the back of his mind, he noticed the gangster doing the same.

There was a moment of silence in the darkness, the tension in the air wound tight as a tripwire - when everything was frozen. The only sound was the muffled, still-playing radio.

The stillness shattered. The radio turned to static as bursts of gunfire and screams filled the air, some in anger, most in fear.

Jim froze, staring at the gangster in front of him. He could just make out his outline, and the whites of the wide and terrified eyes.

The man tried to bring up his hands to block his face, but he was sluggish, still staggered from the missing light and the noise.

Jim punched the man as hard as he could in the temple. The lights flickered back on as he hit the floor.

Jim didn't get a second to relax. With a jolt, Jim recognized the sound of approaching footsteps over the screaming. He turned around to face the hallway, only to be slammed into the shipping container himself.

This gangster - taller and heavier than the last one - wrapped his thick fingers around Jim's neck, squeezing against his attempts to breathe. Jim could feel his own rapid-fire pulse trying to push back against the man's hands. He was already dizzy.

He didn't waste time trying to attack the man's arms - the angle was off. With all the force he could muster, he kicked the man's knee with his heel. He was rewarded with a sick popping sound.

The man roared, hands automatically leaving Jim's throat to clutch his knee. Jim gasped in a desperate breath, swinging his elbow at the man before he recovered. Jim had been aiming for his temple, but his elbow striking the man's jaw worked just as well. The gangster fell to the floor, unconscious like the others.

Jim heaved in a deeper breath, rubbing at his neck. It didn't seem seriously injured, - only bruised - and a quick check of his nose revealed that it wasn't broken, though it was still bleeding.

He looked both ways down the deserted hallway. It had gone quiet in the room, though this did nothing to reassure Jim.

Down the hallway, maybe ten feet away, Jim spotted his gun lying innocuously on the floor. He stalked towards it, eager to get his weapon back in his hands.

He had only taken a few steps - though his hand was already stretched towards his gun - when a man threw himself into the hallway. The man looked around, locked eyes on Jim's gun. He glanced up at him, then back down at the gun.

They both took off running towards the gun, but even as Jim's feet slapped the ground as he ran, his heart was sinking. He was further away than the man, he wasn’t going to get there in time -

The gangster picked up Jim's gun, pointing it directly at him. Jim froze. In the light he could make out the man's face, grinning even as blood dripped down his face from a cut on his forehead.

Instinctively he tensed his legs, ready to dive out of the way, even as he knew it would never work. The hallway was too narrow to avoid bullets for very long- the man too far away to disarm.

Sorrow pulsed through his body, immobilizing him far more effectively than the fear had. Sorrow for the twins, who had relied on him to get them out safely.

Sorrow especially for Barbara, who always was so worried when he went on a dangerous case; who he would be leaving all alone.

Jim stared down the barrel of his own gun, grief strangling him.

Out of nowhere, a huge shadow came down from above, striking the man's arm that held the gun, though the man managed to hold on to it. Jim flinched when the gun fired, but it missed wide.

The shadow moved impossibly fast, knocking the gun out of the man's hand with a crack so loud that Jim could hear from his position. The gangster tried to hit him, but might as well have been moving through molasses for how easily his attack was blocked, the shadow that wasn't a shadow moving fluidly out of the way and behind him, looping a rope around him and hitting him hard in the head in a single motion.

The gangster hit the ground, unconscious, at the same time the gun did. The silence echoed around the room, and Jim just knew that the fight was over.

And now he understood why the people who saw him didn't think he was human.

The whole world froze as he and the Batman looked at each other. Instinctive terror clenched tightly in Jim's gut at the sight, but he didn't move. Neither did Batman - and the moment between them stretched on.

Contrary to the rumours, Batman wasn't actually eight feet tall, though he was still extraordinarily large. A huge black mass - a cape, Jim realized with a faint jolt - trailed over his shoulders and behind him, stopping just above the ground, making him look even more immense. Through the shadows that appeared to flex to surround him, Jim could just barely out the shape of a bat emblazoned on his chest.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the mask. It covered most of Batman's face, leaving only the lower face exposed. The blank stare was incredibly off-putting, and being unable to see beneath the material covering his eyes only made him more terrifying.

But maybe the most unbelievable thing about Batman, now that Jim was actually seeing him for the first time, was that he was undeniably human, not the bat-hybrid demon the criminals had been promising for months.

After what felt like years, but probably only lasted a few seconds, Batman spoke.

"Are you hurt?" Batman asked. His voice surprised Jim - it was deep and gravely, but somehow still more human than he had expected. It seemed, from the way he stood and dressed, that his voice ought to have shook the building to its foundations, or else been a barely-there whisper.

"No." Jim was rather proud that his voice didn't shake. Batman appeared to look at his bloody nose, but didn't mention it.

"Where are the twins?"

Out of reflex, Jim briefly considered not telling him, but pushed it aside quickly.

Batman wasn't a bad guy he needed to hide information from.

"They're hiding behind some crates. They're safe." He inclined his head behind him, roughly towards where the kids had disappeared.

Batman held his gaze for a moment longer before walking past him, heading towards them.

As he passed by in front of him, he paused to kneel in front of the unconscious gangster that Jim had shot. When Batman moved on, Jim could see a field bandage covering the wounds, stopping the bleeding.

Jim stared at him as he walked down the hallway, moving silently towards the crates.

Now that he was out of immediate sight of Batman, Jim took the opportunity to take a deep breath, trying to force himself to exhale slowly. The adrenaline rush that he had staved off during the fight hit him all at once; the tingling rush weakened his legs and made his heart thud uncomfortably in his chest.

It had been a long time since there had been a call quite that close.

He inhaled forcefully, steeling himself again. He tried to wipe some of the blood off his face before it dried sticky, smearing it into his coat ineffectively.

His gun was still lying on the floor, next to the bound gangster that Batman had taken down. He took a few steps towards it, gingerly picking it up. He looked back at Batman, and firmly put it back in its holster.

Jim turned to follow Batman towards the kids. He was crouched next to one of the huge crates, his cape making a puddle of darkness on the ground as he slowly edged the massive crate away, clearing a way for the twins to get out easier.

When the gap was big enough, the twins crawled out. They both threw themselves at Batman; Kayla grabbing his cape and Kevin clinging to one of his arms.

As Jim got closer, he heard the surprisingly gentle sound of Batman murmuring to the kids. With a pang of sadness, he saw the recent tear streaks on their faces - results from their terror during the fighting.

When Jim was behind them, Batman looked up and over his shoulder at him, though he made no motion to stand up and dislodge the twins.

"Their names are Kayla and Kevin Wilson," he said, still looking at Jim.

"Yeah," Jim agreed, though he hadn't known their last name. "How did you..." he trailed off. How had he known the kids were missing, how did he find the missing kids in a city the size of Gotham?

"Their parents have a group looking for them around the streets."

At the mention of her parents, Kayla started to move, dislodging herself from the cape, grabbing her brother and backing away from Batman. Not fearfully, Jim noted, but calmly, secure in the knowledge that they were safe.

Batman waited until Kevin had completely let go of him to stand up. He was damn near impossible to read, between the mask and the stern mouth, but Jim imagined he was looking them all over, ensuring they were all as unharmed as they appeared. Jim wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't leave his tongue.

"Thank you!" Kayla said suddenly, before ducking slightly behind Jim's leg. Kevin nodded furiously from Jim's other side.

Batman's face - the part that was visible anyway - softened, a barely perceptible thing, but undeniable.

Apparently satisfied that they were all alright, he moved past them, positioning himself under one of the roof beams.

A horrible thought struck Jim.

"There's a truck coming," he exclaimed. He had forgotten about the gangsters' inbound backup in the chaos of the fight.

"It's already taken care of," Batman replied gruffly, not pausing in pulling something out of his belt.

Of course it was.

Jim shook his head slightly in disbelief. He had probably followed it here in the first place. The two of them had arrived at the same scene from opposite threads; Batman from knowing about the missing children and the truck, and Jim from learning about the case from the commissioner and Falcone.

Wait.

"This is Falcone's trafficking ring!" he blurted out.

This time Batman froze, turning solid. He hadn't known about Falcone's involvement.

"How do you know?" His non-eyes seemed to be staring right through Jim.

"The commissioner took me off the case because Falcone told him to." With every word he spoke his heart dropped further in his chest, as he realized the full effect of what he had done.

Falcone would find out that his human trafficking ring had been stopped. He would go to the commissioner, who would be happy to sell Jim out.

Panic started to rise, hot and constricting, in Jim's chest. Do you know what I've done? He wanted to ask him. Do you know what happens to people who directly go against the mob in this city?

I’m already dead.

Batman didn't say anything, though his face seemed to harden, impossibly making him look even more severe.

Jim's panic receded, just a little.

Batman understood.

"You’ll have enough proof to arrest Falcone by the end of the night," he growled solemnly, looking right at Jim.

He finished taking something out of his belt, pointing it towards the roof. A rope shot out of the device in his hand, and without another word to them, he ascended towards the ceiling, cape fluttering, until he melted into the shadows.

Well. That explained the 'flying' rumours.

"Wow," Kevin said, quietly awed.

Jim huffed a quiet laugh.

They were all still watching the shadows where Batman had disappeared when there was a noise of the door opening made them all tense up.

Jim's hand jumped to his gun automatically, body tensing. Had Batman actually chosen this night, of all nights, to miss someone?

"Jim!" Sarah's frantic hiss carried through the warehouse, and he relaxed.

"We're here," he called to her. "It's OK," he murmured to the twins when they looked up at him in alarm, trying to reassure them that Sarah was a safe person.

The sight of her turning around the corner had never been more welcome, despite the wild and furious look in her eyes.

"What the fu-" she broke off at the sight of the twins -"What the heck is going on?"

"It's a long-"

Before he could finish his thought, someone else followed Sarah into the warehouse.

"Jesus Christ Jim, we leave you alone for fucking five minutes and you run off by yourself. You're like a stupid puppy," Bullock snapped, standing behind her.

Unlike Sarah, Bullock didn’t look at all ashamed at all to swear in front of the kids, making them duck further behind Jim. Also unlike Sarah, he was actually in his police uniform, and didn't look like he had just crawled out of bed. Jim hadn't known he had been working that night.

"You brought Bullock?" Jim looked back at Sarah, eyebrow raised.

She shot him an exasperated look. “Yes, I picked up Bullock on the way, because you sounded like a madman on the phone. Your backup brought backup. What happened?"

Jim didn't say anything, glancing significantly at the kids at his side. They'd been through enough tonight - they didn't need to hear about how the police commissioner had been complicit in their ordeal.

She visibly forced herself to relax, bending over to look at them in the eye.

"I know you guys have been really brave tonight. Can you be brave again and go stay with my partner behind me for a few minutes?"

Neither twin moved, reluctant to leave Jim's side.

Sarah's mouth twisted wryly.

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to go with him. He's just so ugly!"

Kayla giggled loudly, then abruptly covered her mouth. Sarah's smile grew.

"I mean, I don't like being seen with him in public either. I mean, he's so scary looking! Look at his teeny tiny eyes and his weird mouth! And what is up with that weird tie?"

This time both kids giggled, sharing looks of hidden glee with each other.

"I know he looks like the troll from under the bridge," Sarah continued, "but he's so big and scary that I promise that no one is going be to able to get close to you. He'll scare them away, OK?"

"Like an ogre," Kevin snickered.

Bullock rolled his eyes as the kids laughed some more. He was used to it. Bullock, being the tallest and widest of all of them, was the one that kids were usually most scared of. Renee had been the first to discover that insulting him to his face usually made the kids more comfortable with him; by using his larger size to reassure them.

Not for the first time that night, Jim missed Renee sorely.

"That's right, but I'm the ogre who will let you play with the siren, if you want," Bullock grumbled, once he decided he was done being laughed at by children.

Hesitantly the twins separated themselves from Jim, sticking close to Bullock as they weaved away between the crates and shipping carts towards the exit. Jim and Sarah followed them.

From the doorway they watched the kids climb in the police car that Sarah and Bullock had arrived in, and the lights immediately filled the street with the familiar blue and red.

"So you want to tell me what the goddamn shit is going on?"

She listened patiently as he retold her what had happened that night, starting with entering commissioner Eaton's office. She didn't interrupt until he told her about Batman saving him, which was apparently her threshold for silence.

"The Batman saved your life?!"

Jim sighed. "Yes."

She pursed her lips together unhappily, but didn't say anything more until he was finished.

They were both quiet in the doorway. The pouring rain had regressed to a more gentle rain, which was creating waves in all the puddles in the street. The police lights were still flashing across his vision, reflecting and scattering in the water.

"So what are you going to do now?" Sarah asked quietly. "Do you have to leave Gotham?" She also understood the perils of going against the mob.

"I..." Jim trailed off. It was hard to think, with the adrenaline still rushing through his body, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. It wouldn't be long until Falcone would know that he was involved in stopping his trafficking ring.

A dark, fearful rush of emotion rose in him, and for a second he couldn't breathe, couldn't see.

Barbara was by herself in the apartment.

"You need to call Barbara?" Sarah furrowed her eyebrows as he fumbled with his phone, again showing her uncanny ability to read his mind.

He knew it was late, but he also knew that Barbara knew to answer the phone at this time of night.

"Hello?"

"Barbara, are you alright?"

"Dad? Of course I am. Are you? It's-" she yawned -"It's late."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just...wanted to call."

"OK." He could hear how sleepy she sounded, even over the phone, and felt a pang of guilt.

"Jim..." Sarah whispered, staring right at him.

"You know not to open the door right? Not for anyone?" He blurted out, needing to voice his fear, however simple it sounded out loud.

He could hear her roll her eyes. "Yes Dad. I'm not an idiot."

"I know, I know,” he said, smiling despite the anxiety still writhing in his gut. The puddles on the ground were still flashing red and blue. "I love you Barbara."

"I love you too Dad."

The dial tone was blaring in his ear, but he couldn't bring himself to pull the phone away. He was paralyzed, unable to move through the fear of someone hurting Barbara, of it being his fault.

"JIM!" Sarah snapped, staring at him. She must have been calling his name for a while. "Is she alright?"

"She's alone in the apartment," Jim moaned, voicing the only thought circling his mind. It'd be so easy for someone to get in, break open the door, and shoot her, blood on the floor, blood on the wall and-

"Jesus Jim, breathe," Sarah took his phone out his hand, resting her other hand on his shoulder. "You said that Batman is going to get information to arrest Falcone?” She asked slowly.

"I- yes," Jim said, the non-sequitur breaking him out of his spiralling thoughts. "What-"

"OK, here is what is going to happen," she said, gesturing to Bullock in the car to join them by the door before looking back at Jim, "I am going to drop to drop those kids off back with their family, and then I am going to sit in your apartment with my gun, and I won't let anyone get in."

He stared at her, uncomprehending. "She won’t answer the door at this time of night."

"Then I’ll wait outside. I won't let anyone in, OK? She'll be safe," she repeated earnestly.

"Sarah..." How could he voice the relief and gratefulness that was steadily replacing the fear?

"Falcone won't get to her," she vowed, and Jim took a deep breath, relaxing slightly. He believed her the same way he believed that Batman was collecting evidence against Falcone right now.

"What's that plan?" Bullock asked, finally joining them. Sarah turned to look at him.

"You and Jim are going to help Batman arrest Falcone so he doesn't murder Jim."

"Oh is that all," Bullock deadpanned sarcastically.

Sarah looked back at Jim, softening ever so slightly. "It's going to be alright. But you need to pull yourself together and fix this, because you are not leaving Gotham."

"Thank you Sarah," he said sincerely. Knowing that Barbara would be guarded made it possible to think around the terror, though it wouldn't go away until Falcone was taken care of.

Her smile was like quick-fire, as she turned and walked to the police car. Without a word, Bullock and Jim headed towards where he had hidden the car.

The night was far from over, and there was so much work to do.

[darlinedishmon-blog]

MASTERY LEARNING PROJECT: PROJECT REFLECTION

After all the reading and various assignments that we completed, I have learned how vital and necessary copywriting is to sell a brand and that it must be effective to be successful. I was unfamiliar with copywriting prior to this class and at first, I was a bit intimidated because I’m good at creating visuals, but I don’t like to write, and I’m not very good at it. I’ve realized that writing good copy is much harder than many would think and there are a lot of steps and work that go into copywriting, definitely a lot more than I would have imagined.

We first had to choose a non-profit organization; I chose the Northeast Animal Shelter. I chose this non-organization because I love all animals and thankfully my organization is a No-Kill shelter, but I find it absolutely unfair and heartbreaking on how many animals are euthanized yearly at typical animal shelters.

These are the first steps to selling a brand:

When we first started working on selling our brands which were our organizations, I read all the information about the shelter on its website. I learned what their intended goal was, but then I had to determine who their target audience would be by creating personas, which are profiles of people who would be attracted to the shelter’s message and intentions.

I also did research on various typical shelters that euthanize animals within 72 hours of their arrival, if they were not immediately adopted. When I first started this research, I became distraught, and I cried a lot. Though this subject is very dear to my heart, I knew this project would be hard for me. I decided to step back, take a break, I composed myself, and then I started to focus on my organization that does as much as possible to save as many animals as they possibly can. This made me feel a little better, and I was able to continue on with my assignments.

It took a lot of time and research to obtain all the information that I needed for this project, and this was just the first few steps of the entire process. I knew I had a lot more work ahead of me, but I was determined to do the best I could by creating the best ads for my organization that would make their campaign successful.

As I mentioned earlier, I was amazed at all the steps needed to write copy to sell a brand. Doing the research and obtaining all the necessary information was just the beginning. It was now time to do more research and use our creative skills to create concepts and the actual ads. The following are other elements that must be developed prior to a copywriter creating an ad.

A copywriter needs to develop the following elements for an ad to be complete:

1. They must ensure that the ad’s message is relevant to the target audience.

2. They need to establish a call to action for the ad, which according to Lurie (2014) is telling the audience to do something. In my case, the call to action was to either donate or adopt an animal from their shelter.

Creating a call to action was easy for my organization.

3. For some brands, a powerful tagline/slogan needs to be created which will help communicate the brand’s message.

4. They need to create a dynamic headline that will grab the attention of the viewers and readers. Lurie (2014) states “A headline should grab attention, inform, and tie together the entire ad.” Lurie (2014) also mentions if a headline doesn’t grab the reader’s attention, it can make or break the rest of your copywriting, even if the rest of the copy is good.

Creating headlines for my organization was easy as well.

5. They need to create the perfect voice to sell the ad. According to Felton (2013, p. 93), the voice is the brand’s personality that will speak for and sell the ad. Felton also (2013, pp. 103) states “Every ad and corporate communication should be true to that personality, the brand’s tone and point of view.”

Creating the voices for my ads also came reasonably easy for me.

6. Lastly, they then need to create concepts which are the actual ads. According to Smallish (2013), A great concept requires ingenuity and innovative that will not only grab the reader’s attention, but will also hold their interest so that they will want to read the entire copy and ad. Smallish (2013) also mentions that the novelty of using bright colors to make an ad stand out might briefly attract a reader, but these techniques usually fade quickly due to overuse.

I’m very creative and can develop great visuals, but as I learned from my first set of comps, they were ok, but my copy was too wordy which would lose many reader’s attention, and they weren’t necessarily created appropriately for a brand magazine ad.

I learned a tremendous amount of information about the proper way to create a good ad with good copy. I’m grateful for that because I know I will have to create ads for brands in the future. The information that I learned was beneficial and be useful in my future.

Overall, after taking this course and learning all that goes into writing copy, I give copywriters a lot of credit. For someone who knows nothing about copywriting, they may think that an ad can be created within a few days or less. That’s what I thought. I was very naïve to think this way. I now know how much effort goes into effective and good copywriting.

For a professional copywriter, selling a brand most likely takes them less time to do, but they still have a lot of work and research that must be done, and if they’re working for a brand on a much larger scale, there is probably even more work involved. Kudos to all good copywriters!

References:

Felton, G. (2013). In Advertising: Concept and Copy (Third Edition) 3rd edition. (pp. 93-113). New York, NY; Norton, W. W. & Company, Inc. Retrieved from Vital Source Bookshelf.

Lurie, I. (2014). Learning to Write Marketing Copy. Retrieved from https://www.lynda.com/Business-Online-marketing-tutorials/Writing-Marketing-Copy/149250-2.html

Smallish, C. (2013). Developing Ideas and Advertising Concepts. Retrieved from https://www.lynda.com/Design-Business-tutorials/Developing-Ideas-Design-Concepts/126121-2.html

TARGET AUDIENCE PROFILES:

Through my research, I’ve learned that every person has such a different lifestyle. I already knew this, but because everyone’s life is so distinct, to sell a brand, you really do need to determine who the target audience is.

I concluded that the people who fit the target audience for my brand, the animal shelter, were either older people who had plenty of time on their hands or younger families with children. In both cases, there would always be someone around to care for an animal.

I also felt that career-oriented and/or single people didn’t fit the target audience because many of them work late hours or many single people still hang out with friends, going out and coming home after bars and nightclubs close. For these people, an animal would be left alone for much too long.

Understanding who the target audience is necessary to develop ads that will grab the attention of the proper people and influence them to follow through on the brand’s intentions and call to action. Also, creating profiles are another great way to fully determine who does and doesn’t fit the target audience.

For this profile, the woman Grace works from home, her adult children are all out of the house, she is recently widowed and she loves dogs. She is the type of person who perfectly fits the target audience.

According to Felton (2013, pp. 26-31) regarding consumer behavior, I believe Grace fits into two categories:

I believe she fits #7, Nurturance which is the need to provide care and to protect others. Since her kids are adults and she is widowed, by adopting a dog, she will be able to care for and protect the dog as she did for her family years before. Also, since she works from home, the dog would never be alone.

I also believe she fits #15, Security which is the need to be free from fear, feel safe and protected. Since she is recently widowed, she now lives alone which she hasn’t done in decades. This could be a bit scary for some. Having a dog in the house might make her feel more secure and safer, especially at nighttime. Also, a dog’s barking, in many cases acts as a deterrent from possible intruders. 

For this profile, the man Eric works your average Monday – Friday hours with no overtime, he’s married, has a 3-year old daughter and loves dogs. He is also the type of person who perfectly fits the target audience.

According to Felton (2013, pp. 26-31) regarding consumer behavior, I believe Eric fits into three categories:

I believe she fits #7, Nurturance which is the need to provide care and to protect others. I believe that his daughter would be so excited to have a dog that she is at an age where she would want to care for the dog as if it were a baby or baby doll.

I believe he fits #10, Stimulation which is the need for stimulating the senses, pursuing vigorous activity and engaging the mind and body. Since Eric has a 3-year old daughter who’s been wanting an animal for so long, by adopting a dog, he, his wife and his daughter can all experience a great amount of enjoyment playing and running around with a dog. Also, having a dog cuddle up to a person and licking them to show their affection would stimulate anyone’s senses.

I also believe she fits #15, Security which is the need to be free from fear, feel safe and protected. I believe that Eric would feel more comfortable having a dog in the house, especially when he’s at work knowing that a dog could protect his wife and child from an intruder. Also, a dog’s barking, in many cases acts as a deterrent from possible intruders.

INITIAL COMPS:

I developed my strongest concepts and wrote copy that I felt would connect with the target audience by using images on animals that have been starved, abused and or abandoned. Seeing an innocent animal in despair would grab the attention of most people, it would affect them emotionally and possibly persuade them to want to help an animal.

I wrote headlines that were heartbreaking, but unfortunately true and as Felton (2013, pp. 195-218) states, “Nothing cuts through the crap and clutter of advertising better than a real, true fact about the product. Nothing is more persuasive.”

My body copy was written to influence the target audience to follow through on the call to action which was to donate or adopt an animal from the shelter. In regards to the checklist for body copy, my copy falls under Felton’s (2013, pp.128) #7, Persuasiveness which asks questions like, Does the copy persuade or just describe? How convincing and motiving is it? I believe my body copy is persuasive, convincing and it will motivate people.

REVISED COMPS:

In regards to my revised comps, I made modifications to my comps regarding the formatting to make them look more like ads that you would see in a magazine.

I also re-designed one of them, so that all my comps weren’t sad and depressing. My one re-designed comp is now happy and uplifting and would give the target audience a positive feeling about adopting an animal.

I was also asked to create an enrichment comp. For this comp, (last comp listed) I chose to give this comp both a negative and positive feel to it. As you will see, it shows a before and after image of a dog that was once abused and neglected. The before-photo is distressing, but after the dog was rescued and brought to the animal shelter, the after-photo shows how well the dog is doing now. I believe it’s a very inspiring comp that would motivate a person to want to help out an animal once they see the end results and realized how much donations really do help out animals in need.

I believe my revised comps are unique for an unfortunate situation that needs to be dealt with on a much larger scale. I believe they look very professional, I believe their headlines and body copy are persuasive and overall, I believe that they would make this campaign very successful.

ENRICHMENT COMP:

MY TAKEAWAYS:

The following are the three acquired competencies that I feel I have learned from this course that will help me tremendously in the future as a Graphic Designer:

1. I have learned how vital copywriting is to successfully sell a brand. That being said, I now believe I have the ability to write effective headlines and body copy which will be beneficial and necessary for me to know how to do in the future.

2. I have learned the proper way to construct and/or format a comp to make it look like a professional magazine ad which will be extremely beneficial to me as a Graphic Designer.

3. After all the writing that we’ve done during this course, I feel that my APA writing skills have improved and I have more confidence now when it comes to writing in APA style as well as writing in general. I’m not as intimidated as I was when I first start this course. This will be extremely helpful for me in the future.