#which apparently makes people so uncomfortable they would rather blame the mother figures than be critical of this child they project onto

[aliasl]

thinking a lot about Ryan (the boys) - Jack (supernatural) parallels

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE BOYS SEASON 4 FINALE

everyone obviously has strong feelings about Ryan killing Grace. sadly, i've only seen a lot of vitriol towards Grace for pushing Ryan into killing her... And it's Jack killing Mary all over again.

Grace is scared and has waaaaaaay more awareness of the current danger than Ryan, whereas Ryan is not objective about Homelander and is not understanding what's politically happening, all the bloodshed about to happen. Yes, Grace overloads Ryan with truth bombs about who Homelander is and is asking "too much" of him... but Ryan is not justified in killing her. Full stop. His life was not at risk. His AUTONOMY was. But he was face-to-face with his honorary aunt, who took him in and housed and clothed and fed him, crying, confiding her grief, expressing her love, visibly fearful and hesitant... and Ryan had to shut off his empathy to kill her in that moment.

And it's fiction! So, to serve the plot, this straw had to break. Ryan has gone from accidentally killing his mother in an effort to save her to then killing an honorary family member on purpose. Much to chew on; how did this sweet little boy get to this place? ... But people would rather spit out the story trying to be told (how radicalization happens, how how seemingly good people can be driven to selfish/evil actions, how power corrupts, and so much more) in favor of spewing misogyny. "she fumbled the bag!" "stupid hag got herself killed!" Immediate forgiveness for Ryan ("who among us would have acted any differently in that moment???" they cry), pointing all the blame towards the woman girlbossing-gaslighting a poor widdle boy.

Like... It's the same story again, as far as the vitriolic response to a woman "getting herself killed" by standing her ground/reaching out to a dangerous child. but i'll say it: THESE WOMEN DID NOTHING WRONG. the answer is not "let the dangerous, overwhelmed child walk away." the tragedy is that these women held out hope that their dangerous children wouldn't lash out at them when they reached out. they had trust. Ryan/jack didn't trust back. they rejected. they shut off their empathy.

now, Jack had his journey and we've seen him go the path towards redemption. but it's really awful to see Ryan kill Grace with no apparent sense of guilt and just walk away, and the only audience response i've seen is blaming either Grace or Butcher for RYAN'S ACTIONS.

and it's just not very heroic to refuse responsibility for one's actions. in a show about morality and redemption vs digging one's heels in and rejecting culpability, I really hope the boys pull off their morality tale and those uncritical of Ryan will learn better.

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

[hournites]

Blackouts (2/2)

 part one

~.~

“You two made a bomb?”

Beth sat with Rick on the wooden bench of disciplinary torture. It was stiff and uncomfortable—worse, it smelt like sweat and fear. She had to squash down an anxiously clawing urge to tap her foot against the floor like Rick, a habit that used to annoy her. A habit she doesn’t even have.

Beth has never been in trouble at school. Ever.

Not one detention or demerit point or strict scolding by any teacher or playground monitor since Kindergarten. Beth never had to sit on this bench. Never been in the principal’s office for any other reason than collecting a plaque or certificate of achievement. Never felt this slimy guilt-ball of awful. It’s only been forty-five minutes, but sitting here in shame as their peers passed by through the big window of the office in front of Principal Bowin and Pat and the nice secretaries that worked here and God was punishment enough. She felt like a terrible human being. A liar. A cheater. A scoundrel.

Principal Bowin crossed her arms in her matching dark green skirt and jacket suit, far too displeased for a woman who spends her weekends hypnotizing innocent people to death with her husband’s fiddle.

“Not to harm anyone! This is bullshit!”

Beth held her tongue, but she had to give it to Rick. This sucked.

Why did Mr. Hyacinth have to correct his prescription glasses? He never bothered to notice their experiments in Chemistry class before! And Rick couldn’t get in his bad graces, he needed to do well in chemistry to figure out more of his father’s equations and codes. He was doing well in the course, Beth thinks he might have a shot at the regional science competition that she's pushing him to enter. A win there would look amazing on college applications and Rick was super good at it! He couldn’t afford another black mark on his student record, not now.

“I’m sure you know this act of delinquency is a serious offence,” Principal Bowin continued. “Explosives are weapons and they—”

“—A stink bomb is hardly an explosive—”

“—In fact, I ought to bring in the county sheriff—”

“Pat!” Rick cried. “She’s blowing things all out of proportion—”

“Bad word choice, Rick,” Beth muttered under her breath. He groaned and tried to think of something else to say, but under Principal Bowin and Mr. Dugan’s judgmental glares, he thought better of it and slumped back against his seat. Beth stared down at her shoes. She could never bring her parents to another parent-teacher assembly ever again. They were going to be so disappointed.

“How could it be a stink bomb? There was no foul smell in the report sent by their teacher.”

“Because we never set it off!” Rick snapped, lying to save their butts, and rather convincingly too. “We weren’t trying to hurt anyone.” Which was true. “We finished the assignment early and we got bored. I mean, this was just a prank that I made Beth help me with—”

Beth glanced up at the two adults, knowing if Rick continued the way he was, he’d only screw himself over.

“Mr. Dugan, this was all my fault. Rick had nothing to do with it!”

“Save your breath, Beth.”

He turned to The Fiddler. “May I have a word with these two? Alone?”

She let out a huff. “You have five minutes. When I return, we will discuss repercussions.”

The door shut firmly behind her, and they all waited for the click-clacks of her high heel shoes down the hallway before they all started talking at once.

Pat put his hands on his knees to stare at them at eye level. A truly incredible guilt-tripping tactic.

“— Bombs? At school?? Are you out of your minds?”

“For the last time, they’re not explosives. It’s just—”

“It’s for JSA!” Beth blurted out.

“Yeah, look sorry I’m not sorry, Pat. They’re important and we need them.”

“Explain. Now.” Pat never looked so mad. Not at Beth. She squirmed in her seat but Rick barely looked affected, if only the least bit remorseful. She didn’t know how he could sit so still in the face of a disappointed father figure.

Oh. Beth mentally cringed when she remembered why that was. Right.

Rick glanced sideways at her. Beth let out a sigh and reached into her backpack’s front pocket to pull out the blackout bombs. They had figured out how to make them compact last week. They looked like the fancy things her mom would put in her bath when she wanted to relax. Or charcoal gumballs from a retro candy machine.

“Rick and I came up with these so that I could throw them at ISA as a diversion when I need to run.”

Pat took one, bringing it up to his eye. “What does it do?”

Rick and Beth went quiet.

“Guys.”

Beth bit her lip. “We call them blackouts. When they hit the ground they mask the area with a thick black impenetrable smoke that makes it hard to see.”

“Yeah,” Rick chimed in. “So that Beth can use Chuck’s night vision to safely get away or blind opponents so she could have that upper hand.”  

“It’s not lethal? Toxic?”

She shrugged. “Not so far as we could tell, no. We never got sick and we've been carrying samples of them for weeks.”

His eyes bugged out. "Weeks?!"

Rick stifled a laugh.

Pat stared at them, slack-jawed. “ How did you come up with this?”

It was Rick's turn to shrug. “It’s just simple potassium nitrate.” He scratched his head. “And some other stuff. Beth made an Excel spreadsheet.”

“Don’t you potassium nitrate me, Rick Tyler. This is dangerous. And irresponsible. And frankly Beth, I’m shocked you went along with this for so long. At school? During class?”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Dugan.”

“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry that you got caught.”

Beth’s face fell. “Are we getting suspended?” She hated the way her voice cracked. She hated the way Rick’s arm immediately went around her too. It was nice but she didn’t want him feeling bad for her because she couldn’t take a simple scolding. Ugh, she was so sensitive.

Pat confiscated all of the bombs. “I don’t know. I hope not, because you’ve never been in trouble, Beth. I’d hate for that to change now.” He looked at Rick. “But you. That’s a whole other story.”

“We didn’t do anything that warrants more than detention.”

"You're very lucky your mother and father aren't here, Beth. I don't know what they'd say about this." Pat began to pace, ignoring Rick’s excuses. “And since when and why did I become your emergency contact, anyway?”

Rick pulled a face. “What do you think?”

Beth’s hand found its way to his knee. Rick’s jaw tensed, but he sucked in a breath before looking away.

“...Right,” Pat said with a sigh. “Your uncle.”

The room went silent.

“Okay, well I’m glad you trust me with your screw-ups. Because that’s what this is. A big screw up, you hear me? You’re not doing these kinds of reckless experiments again.”

“Yeah,” Rick replied, crossing his arms and staring up at the ceiling. “We get it.”

“Rick, I don’t think you—”

Beth stood up from the bench of shame. “Don’t be so hard on him.” She wrung her hands, and her heart leapt out of her chest. She was really terribly bad at confrontation. Especially to adults. Super especially to nice adults she trusted and had let down. But she needed to defend Rick, he got enough to deal with already. She wasn’t about to let him lose Pat’s respect. Not because of her.

“I knew it was a dumb idea to do in school, but he only did it because he wanted to protect me.” She refused to look back and see Rick’s face, but Pat’s own went soft. “And Rick is really good at chemistry. Don’t take this away from him, Mr. Dugan.” Her eyes began to well up with inexplicable tears. This was really dumb. Beth needed to get a grip. “Please.”

Two hands were suddenly on her shoulders. Rick. He squeezed, rubbing with his thumb. “Beth,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this. It was my dumb idea. You knew that. I don’t really care for school anyway, to hell if I get suspended or Mr. Hyacinth returns to thinking I’m trash. Whatever.”  

Beth frowned. “You’re lying.” She turned around and his arms dropped to his sides. His eyebrows pulled together as he stared at her, unable to read her sincerity. “You do care. I know you do. Stop taking the blame for me on the stupid stuff we both do. If we’re going down...We’re going down together.”

Something warm and wonderful seeped into Rick’s eyes. His hand flexed and Beth used her courage to take it again, tangling their fingers together like the first time they first started making the blackouts. “Beth.”

“I care about you, Rick,” she admitted, feeling her face heat up. It wasn’t like she was confessing an undying love for him or anything, of course, she cared, he had to know. “I’m in your corner. Always.”

Rick stared at her some more, unsure what to say. Slowly, he raised their joined hands and brushed his lips over Beth’s hand. Her stomach dropped like that one unforgettable time she rode the Dive Bomber at Omaha’s Six Flags. But this time she didn’t want to throw up. At all. This rush was thrilling. Beth could feel Rick’s kiss tingle down to her toes.

Mr. Dugan cleared his throat and the two tore their gazes away from each other, Beth slowly turning back to face him. He gave the teens a long look.

“Fine. Here’s the deal. Experimental weapon building only happens at the garage under my constant supervision. No ifs or buts.”

Beth stuck out her hand. “Deal!” She turned around to look at Rick. "It's a good compromise!"

“Your garage doesn’t have any of the chemicals we need.”

“Then I’ll order some,” he retorted. “Need I remind you that the school principal is a part of the ISA?”

“Yeah.” Rick’s stubbornness on the subject seemed to have deflated in its entirety. Beth held in her smile when Pat gave her a knowing look because they both knew why.

Principal Bowin returned, looking very annoyed. “Apparently, the school board has plans to use Beth Chapel for televised school advertisements and have no desire to hear my complaints about the matter as there’s no proof. They won’t even let me call her parents about it.”

Beth let out the biggest sigh of relief.

“So she’s free to go.”

Mr. Dugan smiled.

“Rick Harris, however—”  

Beth took a step forward and raised her head high. “I won’t do any commercials if Rick isn’t excused. That’s not fair. We weren’t making any bombs, Principal Bowin. The beaker exploded. We were in the lab. It happens.”

Mr. Dugan wrapped his arms around both kids. “They’re good kids. If Rick needs some type of community service, he can work at my garage.”

Rick looked at him. “Really?”

“Really?” Beth echoed.

“Yes. Starting Monday.” He ushered them out of the office while they still could. “I’m sure that would suffice, Principal Bowin?”

“But—”

“Need I point out that I am clearly not this man’s father? You do know who his father is, right Ma’am? Matthew Harris? The man Rick had tried to file student reports about for the last several years for neglect and abuse? Reports your administration did nothing about?”

Principal Bowin paled. “Uh.”

“Thought so. Have a nice day.”

He saluted, shepherding them out.

Beth turned to Mr. Dugan as they went outside, still holding Rick’s hand. “Mr. Dugan that was awesome!”

“You gotta start calling me Pat, Beth.”

“She’s not ever calling you Pat,” Rick teased with a smile of his own and squeezed her hand before he let go. Beth watched fondly as Rick tentatively, awkwardly, hugged Mr. Dugan in front of the flagpole. “But she’s right. It kinda was.”

Her heart flipped as it always did when Rick opened up his feelings to other people. She cares for him so much. More than anyone. More than her parents. It was crazy how much. It was almost like...She thought about the way he kissed her hand, eyes piercing into hers in The Fiddler's office and felt giddy all over again like—

Time stopped. Beth's feet stopped working as she realized something important about what she felt for Rick.

Oh.

[rwdestuffs]

The show as a whole, and this blog moving forward.

Nothing is perfect.

Literally nothing. Take your favorite series. A comic book, a video game, a movie, television show, a manga series, or a book series, and you’ll eventually find someone who says that there was a problem with it.

Nothing is total garbage either. Take your least favorite series, and you’ll eventually come across someone who took valuable and good lessons from it.

Take TeamFourStar for example. On multiple occasions, they have made fun of Dragonball and have criticized decisions made by Akira Toriyama. This is despite them being huge fans of the franchise as a whole. They acknowledge that what they like isn’t perfect, and they’re not afraid to point out the flaws in it.

Or take anyone who covers a franchise. They’ll find flaws and behind the scenes things that, to the average viewer, they wouldn’t have realized was a thing.

Now, the inner workings and behind the scenes issues at RoosterTeeth is another topic for someone far more qualified than me, but there are many problems within the company that affect the show, RWBY, as a whole. For example, their rather blatant frat-like environment and professionalism makes for a bad understanding of major topics like abuse, trauma, and discrimination. Not counting their many associations with predators, these guys have had a bad track record with their hires.

But a major problem with the show, and by extension, the company, is an unwillingness to acknowledge their past mistakes and lack of attempts to make up for them to ensure that they wouldn’t happen again.

Take the racism issue within the show. Miles openly claims that the reason is sucks so bad is because he’s a white guy. But then his fans defend him by saying that he’s half Mexican. Add to the fact that we have no real proof that Miles is actually talking to minorities about how discrimination works, and that they kinda dropped the whole racism arc after Blake and Yang killed Adam, the show… has no reason for that whole thing anymore.

Now, I get it. They had a few reasons to add racism to their show despite them being awful at portraying it, and the negativity it brings. One was that they just wanted to say “don’t be a dick to people who look different from you.” and the other is basically to have an issue that wasn’t tied to the grimm (I hope. If it turns out that Salem is responsible for the racism, the show is basically irredeemable at that point in regards to that particular subplot, and nobody is allowed to invalidate any Person of Color’s feelings on the subject). The issue was that they didn’t want to get uncomfortable with the whole thing. They didn’t want to deal with the heavy subjects. So, instead of actually showing the racism, they merely talked about it.

Slave labor, cave-ins, a lack of respect- none of that was shown. All we got was generic bullying, which ultimately made the White Fang look as if they were dishing out retribution for minor offenses. This wasn’t a good look.

Other media have done racism better, even fantasy racism was better portrayed by the X-Men. So to see that RWBY, a show made by nerds botched it that badly?- It hurts. It hurts a lot.

Now, yes. There are also other media that have been absolute garbage when it came to racism, even the fantasy kind. I’m not aware of any off the top of my head, but I think one that did it pretty poorly would be Star Wars. Mostly in regards to their droids. We don’t really see any major repercussions about how they’re treated on Tatooine, and it’s kinda dropped. Luke even tries to trade R2 and C3PO to Jabba, and doesn’t do it in person. Anakin treated his droids better. The emotionally unstable guy who ultimately became the emperor’s attack dog was the least racist person, at least in regards to droids, in the galaxy by the time the OT came by.

So is that it? A really big, famous, and successful franchise did racism worse?

No. That’s not it. Because like I said, take your favorite movie, and you’ll find someone who has an issue with it.

The same applies to RWBY. This show had so much going for it. For starters, nobody else has been as successful with something like this. A fully animated series with a major overarching plot that is produced completely by an internet company.

So, expectations were high. And when the show failed to deliver, it hurt.

We had characters that were great, but who had interesting character traits dropped for unknown reasons. Ruby’s obsession with weapons was unceremoniously dropped for no real reason. Like HBomb said in his overall review of the show, if there was an arc where Ruby and Jaune were to develop a new weapon together, and that in the future, we’d see it in action and that it would include all the fancy tech of the other weapons while still staying true to the weapon it was, that would have been really great and awesome to see.

But instead… We get… Jaune having to cover for his cheating his way into Beacon. We get Jaune constantly harassing Weiss to go to the dance. We get Pyrrha thirsting after Jaune for… Reasons.

So many things in earlier seasons were dropped for reasons that don’t make sense.

At least with Weiss, they dropped her racism because “it doesn’t sell well.” And yes. That is what I’m assuming they dropped it for. They saw that Weiss sales weren’t as big as the other girls, so they dropped the racism altogether, and decided to say that she was against her father’s racism the whole time and wanted to better the company.

They could’ve had her say “It was easier to blame the Faunus instead of my father for what happened.” and that probably would have made everything feel more natural. Instead of acknowledging this mistake, the writers decided to drop it altogether and pretend that it never happened.

These guys have also portrayed major real life problems and showed them as jokes, or not as bad.

Take what Sun did for example. Because he decided to stow away on a boat and steal from a fruit stand for funsies, Weiss is actually justified in her rhetoric towards him. He did multiple illegal things in succession right in front of them! Sun didn’t steal because they wouldn’t serve him and it was the only way for him to get food, he didn’t stow away because the ticket guy assumed that he stole a legitimately purchased ticket, he did it for fun. Then he decided to stalk Blake after she had a breakdown and was in a lot of emotional turmoil. And… It’s apparently okay, because he cares about her.

For a character that they decided to say was the victim of abuse, they really didn’t seem to want to portray that as a problem until her abuser did it.

Yang thrashing the nightclub in her trailer?- Apparently not a good look for her to seem violent. So it gets dropped instead of being used as proof that she would attack Mercury unprovoked in volume 3. What’s the count on me pointing out how awesome that would have been again?

And instead of actually understanding the problem, they decided to have Tai make unfair comparisons to Raven, call her soul a “temper tantrum”, essentially say that it was a bad thing for her to rush in against Adam for because she wanted to save Blake (And then the show decides to reward Jaune for similar, albeit more selfish behavior), they decided to try and justify Tai’s comments after she was taught to “not be so hotheaded” and make her a hothead again, probably because a lot of people pointed out that Yang wasn’t really a hothead who never thought in earlier volumes. These guys decided to retroactively justify Tai’s comments, after said comments were supposed to fix the problem. Tai wasn’t even being a father in those scenes, he was being Miles’ mouthpiece.

And then there’s Oz.

Retroactively, I think I get what they’re trying to do. If everyone had known that going into the hunter business meant throwing your body at an immortal opponent, they probably wouldn’t apply to begin with. Nobody is prepared for that, and I think it’s important for people to understand that nobody is prepared for that, so that maybe we shouldn’t be so harsh in jumping at these characters’ throats for pointing that out. Yes, this is vaguing to someone in particular, but that’s not the point. The WoR on aura was narrated by Salem. Who should logically know by this point why Oz keeps coming back, as opposed to the WoR that sorta suggested that maybe reincarnation was his semblance.

In all honesty, it probably would’ve been cooler if it was, as opposed to some god saying “Hey, fix this problem that’s not really being a problem for me. I’m bored and I want to see a good soap opera.”

And really?- Naming your big bad villain after a time when women were falsely prosecuted? What?- Is the show trying to say that women that are abused will become villains and that they have to work through it on their own without a real support system or they’ll become villains that men have to be tasked with stopping? Sounds to me that the writers’ Texas education is seeping into the writing.

Instead of using the lore or characterization that was already established, the writers decided to just keep adding on instead of building on what they already had. Yang being a mother figure to Ruby?- Gone. Jaune wanting to prove that he could be a hero despite his lack of training and his bumbling attitude?- Also gone. Blake being a strong advocate for equality?- Gone. The many hints that Oz’s semblance is what allowed him to reincarnate?- See ya. The hints that Blake was missing one of, if not both of her parents?- Adios.

The writers didn’t really think through character dialogue. And that’s because they’re more used to using pre-established characters. Their last work was RvB’s Chorus Arc, where they had characters that were already characters. They didn’t need to build anything except for a few new ones that would bounce off of the old ones. Say what you want about RvB:Zero, but it actually made use of the new characters it established while only having them bounce off of one already established… And that season is basically just an excuse to make a bunch of cool fight scenes. Seriously. After each fight, I expect Wiz and Boomstick to show up and explain to the audience how and why the fight went the way it did. Then again, that might have to do with their most famous animator animating and being part of the directing process of the current season, but I digress.

The writers aren’t professional. They’ve established this. They’ve also unceremoniously ditched the people closest to Monty. You’d think that after his death, they would’ve reached out to Sheena and said something like “Hey, I know we’re all going through a rough time, but do you want to work with us on this? You were close to Monty, and we think that he would’ve loved for you to be on board with the process.”

But no. She gets shut out, as does Shane. As does a lot of other people close to him.

And then more shit gets piled up, and more problems become more noticeable.

This didn’t feel like a passion project anymore, it felt more like another IP for them to make a profit off of. Hence why we didn’t get any major sexuality reveals until recently (as of me writing this). These guys want to profit as much as they can, and while I understand that they need to have money to put food on the table, dragging out things isn’t the way to go. Neither is rushing past things. The pacing feels off. Nothing feels like it’s going at appropriate speeds anymore, and more and more questionable decisions keep popping up.

Like… Why is Penny’s father a person of color when she’s white?- There’s so many implications behind that that it hurts. Could’ve made them both white.

Why is Ironwood’s semblance basically a neurodivergent aspect of the brain that is effectively the reason why he’s going full dictator? (Personally, if they had kept Ruby’s weapons obsession, that could have worked as a positive representation of what I’m assuming is ADHD as opposed to Ironwood’s very blatant negative portrayal).

Why wasn’t Yang’s lack of faith in Ruby better built up?- It feels like it came out of nowhere, and while I am glad that at least someone is questioning Ruby, and that I’m also kinda glad that it’s someone close to her so that Ruby does have to reflect on it, it… Kinda came up out of nowhere. This could’ve been something she discussed with Blake, but I guess that wasn’t important enough.

The writers don’t really think ahead on a lot of things. It feels like they only focus on the volume in front of them. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing if they also didn’t actively ignore what happened in prior volumes. Like I said: Yang wasn’t really that much of a hothead prior to Tai’s advice. If you want to take a singular instance of her being one as proof that that’s all she is, then I guess Obi-Wan is one too, since he sliced off somene’s arm in A New Hope, and that apparently, nobody wanted to mess with the guy wielding a lightsaber, so nobody tried to confront him outside of Imperial soldiers.

The writers don’t look back on the past, and they don’t look towards the future. They only see the present that’s in front of him. To be honest, it feels like they took the wrong message from Master Oogway’s famous “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift… That is why we call it ‘the present,’“ That quote isn’t to say that one should disregard the past and ignore the future. It means to realize what happened in the past is in the past and that you can learn from it, realize that you can’t control the future because it hasn’t happened yet, and that you can do your best right now to improve the future.

The biggest reason why the rwde tag dwells constantly on past moments is because the writers refuse to learn from them. The writers make the same mistakes, and it’s only when fan outcry is loud enough that they realize it’s a mistake. But they won’t take the time to understand why it was a mistake, they’ll only say “Oh hey, this was a mistake.”

Take Jaune’s screentime for example. Evidently, there was enough outcry about it that Miles no longer likes writing him anymore, but the writers themselves failed to realize why Jaune’s screentime was a mistake.

Jaune’s screentime and development came at the expense of other characters. Other characters that could have also developed alongside him if the writers were smart. Take the whole “Jaune cheated his way in” thing for example. Ruby only got in because of nepotism, if she had found out, then they could both bond and grow from the shared belief that they didn’t deserve to be there on their own merits. It would still be a problem that Jaune got to cheat his way in without repercussions but it would develop the first letter in the title, and Jaune at the same time (and again, my idea that his hero ancestors got him in via nepotism is still there. The writers still have time to retcon it by saying that the parents bribed Jaune’s way in, and that Jaune basically cheated his way in for nothing).

Or take Jaune unlocking his semblance as another example. Aside from fact that this moment is the scene that will forever taint Volume 5 in my eyes as the worst volume ever (Jaune charging Cinder and getting to unlock his semblance because Weiss got impaled because Jaune couldn’t control his revenge boner while Yang charging Adam ends with her being belittled and losing an arm because she wanted to save Blake), that scene could have gone way better. Instead of Weiss, have it be Ren, Nora, or Ruby. Ren had finished up an arc last volume, and given the precedent set by Pyrrha, once a member of team JNPR finishes an arc, they die, Ren being impaled would have put viewers on the edge of their seats. Weiss being impaled doesn’t do that, as she still has many more arcs to go through, and is a title character. Nora is hardly a character, and was certainly a viable target, especially since she was a hard counter to what Hazel was doing. Taking her out would have also made sense because then the main team loses one of their major advantages over the evil team. And finally, Ruby being impaled would have made sense from a character perspective. Considering that Cinder was all “I want revenge on Ruby” the whole volume and the one before it, her targeting Ruby would have made sense. In fact, the whole fight could have been Cinder being largely dismissive towards Jaune and treating him as more of an obstacle to her target for revenge than her just toying with him because she has to have sadist tendencies™.

The writers got that Jaune’s screentime and moments of character development were a problem, but they neglected to understand why it was a problem.

And instead of acknowledging this mistake, they instead decided to bury it, and not acknowledge it at all.

Acknowledging a mistake is better than pretending that the mistake didn’t happen in the first place.

The rabid defenders need to realize that this series isn’t perfect. There are flaws in it. Undoubtedly, if there was another series that had similar, or the same issues as RWBY did, those defenders would call it out, not realizing that the show they defend so fervently, has the same or similar ones.

And the haters need to realize that this show isn’t as flawed as it is. A similar situation as the above would probably take place. Another series has similar, or the same good moments as RWBY does, and they’d probably praise it, despite those same moments being in the show that they hate so much.

So what does this mean for this blog?

It means that this blog isn’t going to be dedicated to simply hating on the show, or blindly praising it. When credit is due, it will be given. When criticism is due, it will be given. This blog is still being run by one guy, and it’s probably going to stay that way.

Nobody’s perfect, not me. Not you. Not the writers.

And similarly, nobody is the physical incarnation of failure. Not me. Not you. Not the writers.

No matter how it feels, we’re all still human. And we all deserve to grow as critics, as writers, as artists, as friends, as family members, as community members, and as people.

Even if it feels like the crew have been given every opportunity to grow as writers, they still deserve all the other opportunities.

Would it be nice if they acknowledged their past fuck-ups and apologized for them?- Yes of course.

Would it be nice to actually see growth from them rather than them just trying to claim that they did?- Duh.

But we’re all human beings.

And in all honesty, I’m tired of hating on the things I can’t control. Hate is one part off of the path to the Dark Side.

Maybe I should do a Star Wars post soon, what with how I referenced it so often here… Who knows?- Maybe this can be more than just a RWBY criticism blog.

[cole-grey-writes]

Kiss & Ditch

Universe: Gossip Girl

Timeline: Season 1, Episode 10

Character(s): Carter Baizen

Pairing(s): Carter Baizen x Male Reader

Warning(s): swearing

Summary: based on a dialogue prompt I found. credit to whoever it was, because it was not me. “You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me.”

A/n: my first carter baizen story! I'm so excited, you can’t even believe it. I've waited to do this for so long because I had no idea what to write for him and also, I kinda wanted to wait till i had more characters to add to the list but I just couldn’t put it off any longer. Here is my first carter baizen story and I hope many of you out there will want more because I do. Enjoy!

You stuff mini pressed sandwiches into your mouth, doing your damn well best to drown out the girls fawning all over the obnoxious douchenozzle of a socialite, Carter Baizen. Not that it’s in any way easy, but it’s the best you can do unless, of course, you want to be shunned for losing your cool and knocking him out silly with one of the fragile china teacups.

You wish you could be anywhere but here. In fact, the only reason you’re even a part of cotillion is because you were, and still are, Ms. Rhodes assistant during debutante season. You would be just sitting at home, watching episode reruns of your favorite shows, if not for Ms. Rhodes taking you in as her assistant all those years ago when you were just figuring out who you were in high society.

Your family had only come into fame and fortune when you were just a kid. Your mother had finally gotten the lead role in a remake of a very well known movie, leading her to quickly becoming one of the most sought after actresses. And your father, in turn, had received a modelling job right after that from a very famous clothing company. Your father was practically walking the runway before his interview was even over.

Ms. Rhodes was nice enough to put you to work at such a young age. Although, you know for sure that she used to have some sort of ulterior motives, you’re not an idiot, but you let her do as she pleased. You assumed that she would’ve just thrown you out when she got whatever it was she wanted, but you are still her assistant. You figure Ms. Rhodes got used to having you shadow her constantly. Perhaps she thought keeping you around was better than doing debutante season all by herself or taking the time to hire someone else when it wasn’t necessary.

It gives you something to do either way, so you haven’t ever complained, until now.

“You know,” you jump violently, swearing under your breath. You were so lost in your own mind that you hadn’t noticed Carter approach you. “You look like a chipmunk shoving all that food into your mouth.”

You whip your head around to see if anyone is watching your interaction, but no one is. Facing the man, you scowl as mean as you can but Carter, the bastard, smiles back, seemingly unbothered. You turn away from him, quietly wondering, “What the hell do you want?”

Carter steps so he’s standing next to you instead of behind. You still don’t look his way. “What, I can’t just want something to eat?” Biting your tongue, you choose to ignore him. In response, Carter hums in a deep rumble. You refuse to admit to yourself that it’s a very hot noise, coming from deep in his throat. “You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me.”

You immediately pause right before you’re about to shove another chocolate truffle into your mouth, which is still filled with the last one. You take a deep breath and swallow what’s left in your mouth. Your turn to Carter with a stern set in your eyebrows. Before you open your mouth to speak, you take note that Carter seems to have lost the smile he no doubt had when he was flirting with you. You tell him pointedly, “You know what you did,” before you turn away from him for good this time.

Carter sighs and you can almost feel him hang his head in shame. “I do know. And I’m–”

“Y/n!” Ms. Rhodes’ high and frilly voice interrupts anything Carter was going to say. You look over at your boss. “Come on, dear, we need to discuss your cotillion wardrobe.”

You forced an accommodating smile onto your face. “I’ll be with you right away, Ma’am.” You turn back to the snack table to grab another truffle when Ms. Rhodes nods in understanding, avoiding Carter still. When you turn to leave him standing at the snack table all by himself, Carter’s hand shoots out to touch your arm.

You flinch unexpectedly. Carter pulls his hand away without hesitation when he sees, but he leans slightly closer to you regardless. “If you’re willing to listen to my apology… come find me at cotillion,” he whispers.

You glance towards the man. You watch the genuinity pool in the blue-grey of Carter’s eyes, but you don’t speak. You turn away, walking away to catch up to Ms. Rhodes as she walks away from the hustle and bustle of the Waldorf’s tea time. You feel Carter’s eyes on you until you follow Ms. Rhodes around a corner.

The cotillion turns into a complete disaster.

It started off how you expected with Carter glancing your way every few minutes, eyeing you up from the moment he arrived until he had to join Serena for the presentation statements, which, actually, turned into another problem. Someone had apparently changed Serena’s presentation statement from the reputation building statement into something far more lewd. Admittedly, you had found it funny but that’s not the point.

You don’t know how the statement was changed because you’d gone over them dozens of times before the ball. You even went over them with Ms. Irlock, the presentation speaker, right before the statements started. And Ms. Rhodes, nor even Ms. van der Woodson, found it as hilarious as everyone else had.

The night only got worse from there.

You thought it was just going to be those two flukes, minor inconveniences really, and then you could just enjoy your night. You could bask in the payoff from the hard work you put into this ball.

You were very, very wrong.

When the dancing started, you noticed rather quickly the odd behavior from Nate and Chuck. You thought nothing of it. You knew the drama that seemed to follow this particular group of Upper East Siders so you chose to ignore it. You figured that they wouldn’t dare cause a scene at such a major event, but you should’ve honestly known better. You’ve known these people since you were all children so you have no one else to blame for the mistake except yourself.

The icing on top of the shit cake that was being served at this cotillion is when Nate abandons the dance to punch Carter in the fucking face. It's how you end up pressing a cool glass of apple cider to Carter’s cheek.

“I suppose,” you begin, grabbing Carter’s attention. “This isn’t really what you had in mind when you said to come find you.”

Carter hums, almost sounding amused. “It wasn’t,” Carter agrees. He pauses to gently take the glass from you. “But, I’m not actually upset that you're still here.”

Pressing your lips together, you stare down at your hands as they rest in your lap. You think hard about how you want to phrase your next words. “I… think… that I’m not entirely upset, either,” you lick your lips subconsciously before you continue. “I had planned to find you at some point, anyway.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between you and Carter. It’s not uncomfortable or awkward, just slightly heavy as you both think over your confessions.

“What I did,” Carter bites his lip, “back when we were teenagers, it was wrong. I know that, knew that. And it happened to me a while ago, so I know how it feels now.”

You scoff. “Oh, so it had to happen to you for you to regret it?”

“No, I regretted it way before that, but it was my karma for doing it to you,” Carter tells you. Sitting up straighter in his seat, Carter leans towards you. “I’m sorry, Y/n, for… kissing and ditching you. I’m really, really sorry.”

You breathe in deeply, processing his apology, before you smile. “Well, I’m glad you apologized.”

“So, is this the part where we kiss and make up?” Carter wonders cheekily, a small smile gracing his lips. Smirking, you lean forward teasingly to kiss Carter’s cheek, right over where he was punched. Carter smiles back. “While I find that peck comforting and sweet, I would also like a kiss on the lips.”

Playfully, you look off into the distance and pretend to think about it. Ultimately, you shake your head. “Not quite time for kisses on the lips yet. You still have a lot of making up to do.”

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 27)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1963

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and the team had gotten nothing else done the next morning, thankfully. They tried. Garcia hadn’t found any new information for anyone. Once they let everyone go at noon, you and Dex headed to the marina with the equipment. You got loaded on the boat with fishing gear, cleaning gear, and a picnic lunch. 

“So get this,” Dexter started as you began to open the cleaning supplies kit. 

“Hmm?”

“Harry was seeing my mom,” he blurted out. 

You stopped grabbing stuff to look up at him. “Your adoptive father was dating your biological mother?” 

“It appears that way.” 

“How did you find this out?” you asked, going back to working after handing him a rag. 

“I was listening to some old recordings of my mom. It turns out she was a confidential informant.” 

“So that’s how your father knew her,” you gathered.

“Right. But now I’m starting to question everything. Harry’s teachings. Was he using her? Was he using me? Was I just a means to an end? Did he know I’d ultimately wind up killing my mother’s killers? I had emotional problems as a kid because of what happened to my mom.

Harry said he was trying to help me, but we only talked about his rules. I spent so much time trying to live up to his expectations because I thought he had my best interests in mind.”

“Dex, I’m gonna say this, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way but…” You sat down, so that he was facing you. “I care a lot about you, and I know you put Harry on a pedestal because you think he saved you from prison, but the truth of the matter is… Harry didn’t do what was best for you. There was no guarantee you’d end up a killer. From what you’ve told me, you were a curious little boy who had an incredibly traumatic past, and instead of dealing with it, getting you help, Harry made you into what you are today.” 

“So you think he was wrong,” he said, no accusation or malice in his voice. 

“I do,” you firmly but softly stated. “Regardless of why he did it, too, the result is the same. You have your Dark Passenger.” 

He began to look lost, erratic, even. “But I've built everything in my life on what Harry said I was supposed to be. My job, my girlfriend. It's all what Harry told me I needed.”

“Maybe he was wrong though. You can’t go back and undo his teachings, but maybe you could start living by your own.”

“What? You’re saying just give up the code? Just live life to some other standard?” 

You shrugged indifferently. “Maybe it’s time to start looking at what you need, rather than what Harry groomed you for.”

“But this is all I know,” he said hopelessly with a trickle of sadness. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. What would I do with my...urges?” 

“Quiet them. We’ve already discussed how more than anything else, they’re an addiction. Something you can control. Maybe start with that first, and see where life leads you.”

“You’re something, you know that? You come to me, asking me to teach you how to use my urges, just for you turn around and tell me to turn them off.” 

You smirked proudly as you got up and began wiping down the boat again. “What can I say?” 

For the next thirty minutes, you and Dexter meticulously cleaned the boat. You took the right half, he took the left half. Every inch was cleaned and scrubbed. 

“So how are the narcotics anonymous meetings going?” you inquired when you two sat down and started to eat lunch. You stared out over the water, soaking up the sun, relishing the heat and feeling free out here. 

“It’s pointless... I get nothing out of it. But it helps Rita think I’m being normal. Of course, her mother hates me, thinks I’m going to end up like Rita’s ex.” 

“Right,” you agreed, nodding. 

“How are you and Spencer? I can tell he’s not my biggest fan, but what about you two? You making it all work?” he asked, nothing but sincerity in his voice. 

“Actually, uh, I was going to talk to you about that… I’m still worried Spencer might leave me.” 

He seemed a little alarmed so you assuaged that worry. 

“Not that I think he’ll turn either of us in, not like that. He wouldn’t go through all of this just to turn around and sabotage it…” You shook your head. “No, I’m still worried that between his revelation of me, this investigation, and JJ’s confession… I’m just worried he may start to want her again, if he doesn’t still. I know he’s helping us, helping me, and he doesn’t have to, but… I know how hard this has to be for him. I’ve gone from his wife to a serial killer. He’s torn between wanting to protect me from the justice system and turning me in to it. I can understand where he's coming from because when he was in prison, he killed some guys. It was hard for me to hear it, but I sympathized easily. I just think he’s having a harder time…” 

“Why?”

“Well, he killed two guys that were just drug mules. They killed his friend in prison just because they could and they knew it would hurt him. So he retaliated. It was personal. Spence can’t come from a place this cold like you and I can. He can’t come from a place where we spot a stranger and say we want to rid the world of them.” 

“Can’t say I blame him, most people can’t.”

“I know. I mean, our job is to think that way. His entire livelihood has been built around putting people like me away. Now, he has to say he’s married to me. It just makes me feel like maybe he regrets marrying me.”

“I think if he did, he would’ve divorced you by now, or turned you in, or something,” he tried to assure you. 

“Maybe, or he’s just waiting until I’m caught. Then he can pretend like he didn’t know, and he can divorce me easily. Otherwise, we’d have to make something up to our team if we got divorced.” 

“Have you talked to him about this?” 

“No. he’ll just tell me I’m paranoid about JJ...” 

“Well… are you? I mean, are you just being paranoid for no reason?” 

“Maybe. He swears he doesn’t love her, or feel anything, and he probably doesn’t. That doesn’t make me feel any safer or better about Spencer though. Even with JJ not in the picture…” You sighed, realizing you were rambling. 

“What is it?” Dexter gently urged. 

“What if he just leaves because he doesn’t love me any more? Because I am who I am?” 

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “You were honest with me, so now I’m going to be brutally honest with you.” 

You braced yourself, fearing the worst from your friend. 

“You sought me out, knowing full well what might happen if we took your curiosity all the way. You knew that the moment you killed someone outside of your job, it would change your entire life, everything about it. You knew it, and I told it to you repeatedly.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, listening. 

“So now, you can’t really be upset with him for having normal responses and reactions. This fear you’re having, of him leaving? It’s a side effect of him being involved, of him knowing the truth. That fear is probably always going to be there, unless of course he somehow proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won’t leave, but that’s impossible.”

“But that’s what I want,” you retorted. “I just want him to say that he forgives me, that he understands why I did what I did, and he won’t leave me for it. I’m just worried with all this extra stress the investigation has caused, so close to him finding out, it’ll push him away.” 

“If it does… it does. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, unfortunately. It’s better to live your life blissfully ignorant, than to go about every day worrying that today is the day something might go wrong.” 

“That’s poetic, did you read that somewhere?” you sarcastically responded. 

“I’m serious. Would you rather live wondering every morning you wake up, ‘Oh, is today the day he decides to leave me?’ Or would you rather just live it happily? Personally, I’d take the happy memories over ones that would be clouded by fear. Aside from waiting to tell you about JJ, you’ve never mentioned Spencer as someone who is flakey, flighty, or a liar. I’d say, if he’s willing to do all this work to keep you from being put in prison, he’s in it for the long haul.”

His words actually made sense and seemed to warm you up. 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah. Besides, you’d have to be crazy to try and divorce a serial killer right?” 

You shook your head and made a face before throwing a cleaning bottle at him. “You’re such an ass!” 

The two of you laughed before talking about things that had nothing to do with the case or killing or your shaky marriage. It was nice to escape for a bit. You caught up about Debra, she was dating some new guy apparently. Rita and Dexter seemed fine but apparently she was uncomfortable with a woman sponsor. 

As the sun was starting to get much lower in the sky, you and Dexter decided to pack things up and call it a day. The boat should have been completely clear of everything by then. Dexter started the boat and began to make towards the shore, which would probably take about ten minutes. He wanted to be sure that you all wouldn’t be disturbed. 

“It’s been hard, you know?” you suddenly said as you leaned back in the seat behind him, admiring the gorgeous view of the horizon. “Being an agent… I have to still know more than everyone in the room, and yet I can’t know too much or it’s suspicious and leads them back to you or me. Every day is getting harder and harder.” Your voice dropped slightly, hope dwindling out of your tone. 

“You just have to lie, that’s all.” 

“I know, that’s the hardest part for me.” 

Dexter couldn’t help himself but laugh. “I like how the killing is the easy part, but the lying is the hard part.” 

“Well the people I’m lying to are friends, Dex. They’re practically family. I’ve prided myself on being honest and trustworthy and forthright my entire life. Now all that’s a farce.” 

“I know,” he finally said with some sympathy and a low voice. “I bet it’s hard. Lying comes naturally for me because Harry told me to basically say the opposite of what I was thinking or feeling at all times. I was raised to be a liar to protect myself. I can’t imagine switching gears now.” 

You let a soft smile touch your lips. This was the side Spence needed to see, the whole world needed to see. The fun, caring, gentle side of Dexter. 

“I never thought I’d see the day where I am best friends with a Fed, and two of them are keeping my secrets,” Dexter noted with a smirk. “Kind of a crazy world, huh?” 

“Yeah, I never thought I’d befriend an unsub, let alone want to protect him,” you informed, getting up and standing next to him. You nudged his shoulder and he glanced at you, the two of you exchanging a fond smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​​​​​​​

@magpiegirl80​​​​​​​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​​

@iamwarrenspeace​​​

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​​​

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​​​​

@thejemersoninferno​​​​​​​

@rda1989​​​​​​​

@munlis​​​​​​​

@thefridgeismybestie​​​​​​​

@bubblyanarocks3​​​​​​​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​​​​​​​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​​​​​​​

@feelmyroarrrr​​​​​​​​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​​​​​​

@damalseer​​​​​​​

@heyitscam99​​​​​​​

@yknott81​​​​​​​

@thelittlebigirl​​​​​​​

@glitterquadricorn​​​​​​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​​​​​​​

@alyssaj23​​​​​​​

@sea040561​​​​​​​

@princess76179​​​​​​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​​​​​​

@sarahp879​​​​​​​

@malfoysqueen14​​​​​​​

@ellallheart​​​​​​​

@breezy1415​​​​​​​

@marvelmayo​​​​​​​

@paintballkid711​​​​​​​

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999​​​​​​​

@ultrarebelheart​​​​​​​

@lenawiinchester​​​​​​​

@esoltis280​​

ITCM

@arganfics​​

[sugar-kisser]

Lost Memories - Park Seonghwa

warnings: mafia affiliated acts & cussing

Something feels very wrong, but you can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. But then again you can’t even pinpoint where you are, what happened, or how. Your body lays heavy in the uncomfortable bed with sheets thinner than paper, and you stare around the dark monotone colored room. Two small strips of light escape through the side of the blinds on the window to your right.

Your thoughts are jumbled and you barely create a coherent sentence in your own head. You have memories, but they don’t feel recent enough to know what caused you to get here, or even if you were the same person. Your gut feeling tells you that the memories feel different.

“Oh my god you’re awake,” an older feminine voice cals out. You look over towards the woman who walks into your room. She’s dressed to the nines as if she just came from a party with cocktails and poker chips.

“Mom?” You asked rather surprised. 

“What surprised to see your mother here?” She asks rather proudly.

“I can’t remember really anything. Everything feels like a mess in my head,” you tell her.

“Oh darling don’t we all,” your mother dramatically comments as she takes a seat in the chair next to you, “you’re father is happy that you’ll be coming home tomorrow. Your sister is arriving soon and she’ll stay with you for the night and bring you home.”

“So you’re leaving?” You ask not surprised by the way she’s been acting since she’s walked through the door.

“I’ve got places to be. People to see. Alcohol to drink,” she laughs. She quickly stops and pulls something out of her bag and hands it to you.

“The doctors told us you lost your memories,” she explains her demeanor and tone changing rather seriously, “we don’t know how far back your memories go. But these are the last three years of journal entries you’ve written. Hopefully it’ll help you in anyway remember.” You smile at her and take the journal from her hands and open it to the first page to begin reading.

----

Being at home feels strange. You feel like a ghost haunting someone’s home that use to belong to you. But you manage to make yourself somewhat comfortable. You haven’t seen your mother since the day she visited you at the hospital, but based off your journal entries it seems normal for her to be gone so much. You also are apparently not close with your father because of work but you manage to do whatever he asks. You rely most on your sister since you’ve been back, but everyone seems on edge. You feel as if they are walking on eggshells around you. Like they are keeping a secret from you, or secrets.

“We’re having a ball tonight. So make sure to dress nicely. Dad’s having a really important meeting and he wants his kids to look the part,” you sister pops her head through the door before leaving. You place your almost completed journal down and make your way over to your closet to pull out a dress to prepare.

Based off your journal entries which you feel you have to rely on for just about everything till your memories return, if they ever will, your father throws these parties about once a month in order to meet with important people of other companies to make deals and alliances.

Nobody has told you, but you figured based off your journal and the way everything is being run around the house, your father is apart of the mafia. He apparently is one of the largest running ones in the world and has been highly respected through his years. There has only been one person who has challenged him but it never got under his skin. But based off the journal this person who has been causing a ruckus is after you. So for the ball this evening you father plans on hiring bodyguards to keep an eye on you to make sure nothing happens. But for some odd reason you’re anticipating to meet this person or let alone see him because nothing in your journal hinted about who he is, not even a name.

You look over the small variety of dresses that sit in the back of your closet and decide on a long black silk dress that pools at the floor. A long slit goes up the side of your dress to expose your left leg and the neckline is cut into a deep V, and the sleeves reach your wrists. With the dress on you’ve come to realize it’s a rather old dress considering how tight it is on you, but you adjust to it and chose to make it work for the evening. You quickly doll yourself up in make-up, jewelry, hair, and shoes and you meet your sister, father, and surprisingly your mother in the grand ballroom twenty minutes before guests will be let in.

You are introduced to your bodyguards and a full glass of champagne is placed into your hands by your mother who is somehow already tipsy, which is outstanding considering the party hasn’t even begun but you expect none-the-less.

Guests begin to pile in and you stick to the side of the room and stick out like a sore thumb, but who could blame you. Nobody told you how you should interact with the most deadly people on this planet let alone what you yourself should be doing at a party much like this. You begin to entertain yourself with the glass of alcohol in your hand losing yourself in your own thoughts.

“May I have this dance?” 

You snap out of your thoughts and turn your head towards the dashing man standing in front of you. You would assume he was a prince pulled right out of fairytale based off the way he looked and his smile. You take his slightly outstretched hand and hand your glass off to the nearest bodyguard. The man guides you to the dance floor and you find yourself blending in with the crowd.

“How is your recovery going Miss Y/N?” He asks you as the two of you begin to dance. His left hand on your waist and his right lightly wrapped around your hand. He guides the two of you around in small slow circles.

“How do you know my name?” You ask him.

“Well everyone in here knows who you are,” he slightly laughs, “but I know you personally.”

“I don’t remember you,” you respond apologetically.

“So it is true,” he slightly gasps but understands, “you have lost your memories.”

“From what I’m told yes,” you nod your head.

“So you don’t know who I am then? Or where you are from?” He asks.

“Am I not from here? Is this not my home?” You counter.

“Ah so they’re brainwashing you too,” he almost chuckles, “no, this is not your home.”

“I- I don’t understand,” you stammer but he doesn’t respond to you. Instead he pulls away from you and bows politely.

“The truth is waiting for you in your room. If you would like to remember where you belong,” he tells you, “and no, I’m not trying to trick you. Go if you want.” He smiles one last time before disappearing into the crowd. 

You continue to stand in the middle of the crowd without a dance partner, but you quickly look around for your bodyguard and somehow manage to sneak your way out of the ballroom. You quickly but cautiously make your way back to your bedroom, curiosity getting the better of you. 

Your bedroom door is slightly open so you peak your head in before fully entering. A small decorative circular box sits on the edge of your bed but that’s not what catches your eye. A tall blonde male dressed in possibly the nicest suit he owns stands on your balcony staring out into the yard, his back to you.

“So you listened to Yeosang. That’s a first,” the man softly laughs, “usually you like to play games before you listen to anyone.”

“Who are you?” You demand. The man turns around and you watch as his eyes, quite literally, soften just looking at you. You feel your heart ache just at the sight of him, but you could not recognize him to save your own life.

“All in due time,” he smiles, “I want you to remember who I am.” He walks back into your room and picks up your journal that sits on the chair just inside the balcony doors.

“This,” he starts by holding up the journal, “is all a lie. Whatever you read is not what your life has been in the four and a half years.”

“Then what the hell have I been reading?” You demand, seeing as he clearly knows the answer to everything.

“Something your parents want you to believe,” he answers, “what you’ve been doing the past four and a half years is in that box.” He nods his head to the box sitting on the edge of your bed. You look over to the box then back at him again and turn to walk towards your bed. You pull off the lid of the box and colorful pieces of paper fall out over the rim. You pick up the colorful pages and look over them quickly realizing they’re letters. The red letters addressed to you and the purple ones addressed to a man named Seonghwa. You also find little sticky notes and two whit envelopes at the bottom, one with your name and the other with Seonghwa’s.

“Letters?” You asks.

“And notes, and our vows,” he tells you, “read them all. I’ll be back tomorrow to take you home...”

“But I’ll understand if you want to stay,” his whispers turning slightly away from you, “until then Y/N.” He bows his head to you and leaves your bedroom quietly, closing the door behind himself. As the room stills to silence once more you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. How long has it been pounding?

You turn your attention back to the papers that lay on top of your bed. You pickup most of them and head over to the corner of your room next to your lamp and turn it on. You sit on the floor and look over the letters. You separate the ones you apparently wrote and the ones Seonghwa wrote to you. You then pick up the first one and notice a date on the letter and then quickly arrange the letters by date to help them make better sense when you read them. 

-----

The hours of the night quickly tick by and you lose yourself in reading all the letters and notes. Your head is spinning by the time you finish all of them and reach your vows, the last things remaining in the box. 

If these letters are real then your family has been using you this entire time to save their mafia which is falling apart if you don’t marry the son of another mafia to save your father’s ass from being taken over or taken down. 

You had also run away and were saved by Seonghwa and his mafia groups which sent your father into an outrage and almost a full blown war but you managed to settle things because you knew all your fathers secrets and could easily hand them over to Seonghwa and that would end your father’s career. So you father let you be and you were finally free and happy. 

You and Seonghwa had also fallen in love and secretly visited each other while still under your fathers control and you finally escaped and when you had the two of you got set to marry and made life your own. 

As you read the letters you could feel how happy Seonghwa had made you and how deeply in love you were with him. But you still can’t remember a thing and it breaks your heart knowing you have a husband who loves you very much but you can’t return the feelings because of an accident that took away all your happiest memories it seems. 

You pull out the white envelope with your name written on it and you open the flap and pull out the lined pieces of paper with Seonghwa’s recognizable hand writing in it. You read over his vows to you, your eyes tearing up with the story of the two of you he told and list of reasons why he fell in love with you. You feel pure bliss reading it. It feels all so familiar and it just continues to tear you apart that you just can’t remember. You place the letter to the side of you and push all the tears out of your eyes before moving on to your vows to Seonghwa. Maybe this will help you understand or help create the feelings why you fell in love with him. You open your vows envelope and pull out another set of lined paper and slowly read over every word, taking in each reason and the story you chose to tell.

“There you are. Everyone has been looking for you,” you sister loudly sighs in annoyance busting into your room, “what are you reading?”

“I-It’s nothing,” you stammer, “just some letters I found under my bed.” You hope your lie would pass by your sister but it doesn’t stop her from coming over and grabbing a letter off the floor and reading over the contents quickly. Her eyes widen and she drops the paper. She quickly runs out of the room and you quickly being shoving everything back into the box you have and shove the lid back on. You look at your door, which is your only escape, but your sister and whoever else could be back any moment. You quickly look back at your open balcony and quickly run out to it. You look to the sides of the walls and nothing gives you hope that you could climb down. You look over the railing and notice the pool below. You look behind you as you hear the door open. You rather and and some of his men quickly coming into the room. 

“Y/N! Get back here!” You father yells. You quickly climb over the railing and look down once more and back at him and jump, hoping to land into the pool. You hold onto the box a little tighter and you plummet into the pool. You quickly resurface and push yourself to the edge of the pool and you notice a hand reaching out to you. You look up to find the same man who danced with you earlier that evening. You put your hand out and he pulls you out and he tells your to run. 

Guns begin to empty their magazines and the sounds are ear piercing. You and Yeosang quickly run through the large yard and manage to move through the large rose bushes. A pain shoots through your shoulder and the force of the pain sends you falling to the ground. You drop the box of letter and Yeosang quickly helps you back up.

“The letters,” you tell him. You crouch down and quickly pick all of them back up and the two of you start running again.

“We’re almost there I promise,” Yeosang yells at you. The two of you could hear dogs barking and motor bikes and buds in the distance behind you. You quickly see a large wall and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. Yeosang whistles and the two of you wait about ten seconds before there are two large explosions. One in the far distance and one that’s about thirty yards away from you. Yeosang takes the box from your hands and grabs your hand and pulls you down the side of the house and you guys escape through the huge hole in the wall.

On the other side of the wall a large van opens its doors and Yeosang helps you in first before climbing in after you.

“She was shot in the shoulder,” Yeosang tells the other man in the car. The driver takes off and you fall into your seat, your shoulder hitting the back of the chair and pain is sent through your shoulder and bounces off different parts of you body.

“Well good thing is, the bullet went straight through her and it’s not stuck in her,” the other man in the back of the car explains as he examines your shoulder.

“Seonghwa isn’t going to be happy hearing this at all,” the driver comments.

“Well no shit Mingi,” Yeosang sneers right back, “just drive.” You feel the speed of the car pick up and the other man in the back, who Yeosang has called San, wraps your shoulder up and apologizes for every time you’re bumped or he touches it. Eventually the car comes to a stop and Yeosang helps you out of the car, San carrying the box of letters, and Mingi hopping out of the driver’s seat and rounding the car to join you three.

“What the hell happened?” Seonghwa voice demands as soon as he sees your torn dress and wrapped shoulder. He rushes down the steps of his mansion and over to you. 

“Who did this?” He asks anybody as he stares into your eyes and then looks over the rest of your body for other wounds.

“He father possibly. Or one of his men,” Yeosang answers, “they were all shooting at us.”

“You weren’t shot were you?” Seonghwa looks over at his friend who shakes his head.

“Okay good. The others should be back soon,” Seonghwa tells them, “but for now let’s head inside.” Seonghwa guides you up the steps of the house and your legs almost give out on the first few steps because of the constant running on tattered ground has torn up your feet.

“Don’t worry I got you,” Seonghwa whispers. He picks you up gently and carries you up the rest of the steps and inside the house. The first intake of breath inside the house almost triggers something in your head. It smells so familiar to you. You place your hand on Seonghwa chest and ask him to set you down. 

You look around the front room and begin venturing towards a room immediately. Seonghwa quickly follows you, interested in if you’ve managed to remember something in the few hours you last saw each other.

“Are you remembering something?” He asks.

“I- I don’t know yet,” you turn to face him as you stopped in the center of what looks like a small little office.

“Do you know what this room is?” He looks around, then turning to you smiling with his hand tucked behind his back. You shake your head in response.

“This is your studio,” he tells you, “this room also holds a lot of memories of us. Good and bad. I actually haven’t stepped in since your accident. Especially when you disappeared and we couldn’t find you for a couple weeks.”

“You lost me?” You turn to face him.

“The accident took a toll on the both of us. We both were taken out by someone and when I woke up I was at home and they wouldn’t tell me where you were,” Seonghwa turn away from you, “they said you weren’t there by the time they got to the scene.”

“i’m here now aren’t I?” You asks slowly approaching him. You place your hand on his shoulder and you can feel him body trembling. He quickly turns around and you notice his red tearful eyes. He meets your eyes for a second before looking down. You crouch down and look him again.

“Please don’t hide from me,” you whisper, “I’m sorry this all happened.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he tells you, closing his eyes. You feel your heart break even further and you hand instinctively wipes the tears from under his eyes and his looks up at you in surprise.

“I feel like being here is going to help me memories,” you tell him honestly, “I mean as soon as we came through the front door I found my own office without realizing it.” You smile at the blonde man in front of you.

“Then should I give you the rest of the house tour?” He manages to crack a small smile. You nod you head and he walks you out of your office and begins showing you around the house. In each room he explains little memories they held, good and bad. About half way through the house Seonghwa noticed how tired you were getting and he decided to end the house tour for now and showed you to your room. 

“This is our room. But you can sleep in it by yourself. I’ll be in the guest next door,” Seonghwa opens the two grand doors into the large master room. You walk in and look around the room before flopping down on the bed.

“Do you not want to change first?” He giggles. and you grumble a no but he doesn’t take it for an answer. Instead he heads into your closet and pulls out your favorite set of pjs and lays them on the bed next to you. You push yourself off the bed and you take the clothes and change in the bathroom and exit when you’re done. He has you sit on the edge of the bed and takes off your make-up for you since you dominant arm is injured.

“I can do this. I still have an extra arm,” you offer him.

“But I want to do this,” he answers as he wipes off your eye make-up. His touch is gentle to your face but he manages to get all the make-up off and even takes your hair out of the fancy ponytail you manage to put it into.

“Sleep well,” he smiles at you before exiting the room. You stay sitting on the bed and look around the room. You notice a picture cabinet against the far wall and you push yourself off the bed and go over to look at it. 

Most are your wedding pictures and how happy the two of you looked on your wedding day. You continue down the line of photos looking at each of them as they tell a story.

You eventually make your way back to bed and climb under the comfy sheet and curl yourself into a ball to keep warm.

Falling back in love with him doesn’t seem like it’s going to be hard at all.

-----

Hell you were right. Falling in love with this man all over again is the best thing you did because you also slowly regained your memories starting with waking up later that day you were brought back home and remember Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s names when you absentmindedly greeted them. 

Seonghwa took you to a doctor later that day and he further explained that being in an environment that is familiar to you will help bring back memories quicker than moving or being somewhere where no memories have been made before. 

So eventually over months you slowly got back your memories an even made new ones. 

Seonghwa retaught you all you wanted to learn and even taught you how to defend yourself if anyone ever managed to try to get ahold of you again. Seonghwa also dealt with your father and kicked him down the food chain in the mafia and was quickly demolished and could no longer even try to climb the web back up to the top where Seonghwa now sits.

You do admit that what Seonghwa does isn’t entirely your favorite thing in the world but you come to terms with the way he lives and respect what he does because he’s not like mot mafia groups. Being the head of the world makes everyone want to be allies and he’s more of the group to come for when help is needed. He only choses to resolve to violence if it’s the last thing that there is left to do.

Outside of his business he never let a day go by without telling you stories or taking you somewhere you two went before. He helped you regain all your memories as well as making you fall in love again. He was patient and kind, just the way when you first met him. He never once changed or tried to push you into things. Although you two did argue over things a couple would he would always be first to apologize, even if you were the one in the wrong.

At the end of your second year together, and although already technically married, Seonghwa proposed again and you could of never said no. So the two of you married once again. You fell in love twice with the same man, for the same reasons, and got to regain the old and make the new. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 19

Well this came as surprise to me. Literally, the whole idea came to me before I was going to bed so I wrote it the next morning, and here we are. Features some Aladdin quotes, see if you can spot them. Enjoy! 

“And then Icarus, what a guy, he is so convincing as Hades, Pain and Panic start following him!” Calix hooted.

“No way, man that didn’t actually happen.” Jay challenged Calix’s story.

“No, no I’ve heard Icarus’ Hades impression, he’s good.” Aziz confirmed, “Hey, remember Icarus’ Hades impression after three drinks at Dionysus’ bacchanal?”

Calix gulped back the drink Circe had left in their shared room and where he, Aziz, and Jay were passing the time sharing stories while waiting around for Uma and Jordan’s arrival.

It had been a pretty placid three days since Jordan reversed Jay’s hypnosis for Malik’s last wish. At first there was a panic when they realized how suspicious it would be if Jay was no longer under Jafar’s thrall but they fixed that with Jordan giving him glowing red contacts. Allowing them to have another infiltrator at the Coven meetings besides Jade, Calix and Uma.

The door opened and Jordan slipped into the room, gingerly cradling her lamp in her hands. But no Uma behind her.

These three placid days had driven Uma to distraction since they were laying around on their asses and not doing anything so she arranged for this new meeting so they’d find something else to do besides eavesdrop for news of what was happening at next week’s Summer Solstice.

But even though this meeting was so important that she felt the need to threaten them with slow, graphic strangulation with her tentacles while Harry used his hook to disembowel him, apparently their leader was late.

“Where’s Jade?” Calix asked, throwing back another shot. It was a fair question since Jordan’s lamp was still technically under Jade’s possession. Or so the Coven thought.

“Showing makeup techniques to Lala and Malik.” Jordan answered.

“Oh right, Lala mentioned that to me this morning.” Aziz warily eyed the fifth shot Calix gulped down.

“Oh, she did? You talk about things other than the plan?” Jordan smoothly slid between him and Calix, her voice was suspiciously too nonchalant.

“Yeah, conversations spawn into different topics. That’s what happens when two people hang out with each other.” Aziz said a little testily with how Jordan was scanning his face like she was searching for some secret that he’d be careless enough to slip.

“Oh you and Lala hanging out together.” Jordan pursed her lips lightly, sounding way too similar to a disapproving aunt, “Can we have a private conversation in my lamp.”

Before Aziz could suss out whatever she was trying to pull and where this was coming from, Jordan had transported them into her lamp.

“Do you have a crush on Lala?” She blurted out accusingly.

Aziz decided to go for a joke, “I-I don’t know about me crushing her, bu-but I can’t blame her if the reverse is true. I mean, look at me.”

Jordan stared with an unamused raised eyebrow.

“Aziz, I know you.” She started, as if that explained why she was so sure she found the romance of the century after two innocent sentences, “I've seen you go through this before. You’re just hanging out with a girl but then you start talking about every topic under the sun. And then you get a crush and you’re all like “She's smart and fun, she’s got these eyes that just...and her hair wow! And her smile!”

“Then you go on a date that doesn’t really go anywhere for whatever reason and get pushed aside. Remember, Lonnie, and Ruby, and Alexandria and Alfonsa, and Arabella, and her twin sisters, woah! Now that I list them out, you date a lot of Triton’s granddaughters.”

“What is your point? What does that have to do with me and Lala? Not that there is anything happening.” Aziz felt himself gulping back the nervousness that he knew exactly what she was talking about even as he denied it.

“Oh please, you’re half smiling while you say her name!”

“I’m not!” Aziz unmanly squawked and cleared his throat into a deeper contralto, “I do not.”

“My point is it’s one thing to date an Ak. You get your heart broken. But a Vk? She’ll try to steal your throne and break your heart.” Jordan said.

“Steals your throne and breaks your heart. Sounds the title of a sex tape. Do you want dibs or can I have it?” Aziz took a shot in the dark to try joking his way out of this again.  “Now is not the time to joke about the title of our sex tapes. This is serious!”  “You’re still hung up on, “Can your friend do this?” It’s a bit obvious.” Aziz pointed out. 

“Oh, you wanted to call your first sex tape, “A whole new world,” like that’s original.” Jordan shot back.  “And the “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders” piece you did with Calix was a unique one?” Aziz retorted. 

“For your information, I couldn’t choose any title but that because.. wait wait wait? Now is not the time.”

“Aziz Ali iban Aladdin, explain yourself right now.” Jordan crossed her arms.  “Jordan, we’ve been over this. You’re not my mom.” Aziz huffed at the use of his full name.  “You’re right, I’m not. Your mom doesn’t know about what happened in Odiferous during spring break. Now I have a phone and I have video. So tell me about your feelings for Lala.”  

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Aziz said exasperatedly which was no use since she was ignoring anything that came out of his mouth.

“When did you first feel something more?” Jordan demanded.

“Rarw. Rrrawr. Meow? Are you understanding me at all?” Aziz asked the stony faced leopard man.

Aziz had to admit some of his attempts to talk to the leopard-men was out of boredom. He was starting to get a bit stir crazy being stuck in the castle all day pretending to be Jade or Lala’s slave boy. He could understand why Uncle Genie hated being in the lamp. It was so boring, having to wait for permission to do things and the things you were allowed to do was stuck inside. No running around the corridors and flipping off roofs with wind rushing through your hair or the pit in your stomach when you almost break your neck.

He missed it.

And although Lala was pretty focused in studying the Atlantean texts her mother laid out for her, even she seemed to be getting bored because at random moments, she would angrily shut her book and demand to hear Aziz talk about Agrabah.

He had to admit that if he had a choice, he’d rather be with Jordan and the others trying to make a plan to escape or at least go outside. Talking about Agrabah was getting to be the highlight of his day.

He had started with daring adventure stories about the things his parents used to get into before the Great Uniting like when they had to fight a landshark or the time his dad literally lost his head to the decapitated wizard, Caliph Kapok, and they had to get body and head back together again. He had lots of those stories, Genie often said they could create their own tv series, possibly an animated one for kids to enjoy.

And then, upon Lala’s numerous aside questions, he started describing Agrabah with its alluring spices, chests of gold and diverse and eccentric cast of merchants and travelers that lived in the Seven Deserts. He described the bad like the previous-rampant poverty that seemed similar to the Isle albeit with more head chopping from fellow humans than from a bitter decapitated wizard. It was embarrassing but one time he looked at the ornate diamond-encrusted sand-dial and saw that he had passed over an hour talking about his home. He hadn’t meant to but it just came out. He loved his home so much and describing it felt like he was back there on the dunes for a little while.

He had never talked to anyone about his home before. Jordan already knew what it was like obviously, and no one at Auradon Prep cared beyond the merchandise they could buy at the kazbah. It was so much more than that to him. Living there was an experience, an adventure. You never knew where the smell of spices could lead you or what the secret nooks and crannies would reveal.

The thing was Lala seemed just as enthralled with the place as he was. Usually when he discussed his home, people would shudder in horror at the thought of being accidentally turned into a rat due magic gone wrong and seeing the world from down below or cringed at the thought of getting sand in uncomfortable places after intense competitions of sand surfing.

But Lala looked at him with a sparkle of excitement in her eye and would occasionally point out fun variations to try like horse racing only instead of across the desert, race under the desert, jumping to the few dry spots that were present in the muddy underbelly.

He hoped that if they succeeded in defeating the Coven, Lala would visit Agrabah one day. He had a feeling that the adventures they’d get into together would be amazing. Potentially life threatening. But fun nonetheless. He’d love to watch her go against Fashoom. Or better yet, back to back against the giant scorpions guarding kanz quadim. With his wits and knowledge and her skill and cunning, they’d be an unbeatable team. It’d be fun to go with someone who wanted to be there. 

Normally, he went with Jordan but she said it was only because it was her obligation to keep him from breaking his neck and/or all the bones in his body. Her words.  And his few Agrabah friends who would be game to go, were commoners who had to work during the day and it would be unfair for him to ask them to ditch just because he wanted some fun. 

Yeah, it’d be fun to explore the hidden valleys of the Seven Deserts with her. He looked back to the white-haired girl where she was still bent over a book of indecipherable Atlantean words and figures, so he turned back to Kaj II, Usulan II and Muviro II. Lala’s leopard men she had named after people she knew would annoy her mother.

Aziz growled with two purrs spaced between like he had heard Raj do but the leopard men looked at him like he was an idiot. He wasn’t sure he was even speaking cat-language but it was better than accidentally challenging him to a fight so he’d take it.

“Will you stop with the ridiculous sounds, you’re not speaking leopard. Better stick to monkeys.” Lala cut through his attempts at conversing.

“How would you know? You said you don’t speak leopard.” Aziz shot back, happy that there was some element of human conversation. How the hell she lived in a jungle for days on end without human interaction was beyond his capabilities. “True. However, I know what a leopard sounds like and you don’t sound like a leopard. More like a sick alley cat.”

“Excuse me, priestess” Aziz rolled his eyes, and made another purr-growly sound at the leopards just to be contrary.

When could he go outside? When? When? When?

No, it was stupid. He couldn’t go outside and risk looking like he was escaping and ruin the whole damn mission requiring the others to get his ass out of the dungeon again.

He shuddered, gingerly touching the cheek where Staqauit had struck him numerous times, the malicious laughter of the cat twins taunting him about his impending death.

He needed to do something. Being stuck here with just his thoughts was going to drive him insane.

“Hello?”

“Huh what?”

“I said,'' Lala cleared her throat, “If you want to sound more leopard-like, start with a growl in your throat while meowing and add like you’re going to scream.” She demonstrated her leopard yowl which did get  the leopard men’s attention as they looked around for sign of attack or danger.

Aziz tried to mimic what Lala did with her instructions but failed part way through as a tickle caught in his nose before his attempted scream and he fell into a coughing fit, painfully hacking his throat.

Aziz panted, catching his breath while Lala had the grace to look back at her book and pretend not to be amused, “Okay maybe talking to cats is not my thing. But you got a leg up me with your feline self.”

“Feline self?” Lala cocked her head curiously, bringing once again to Aziz’s mind, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“You know, your eyes, the leopards, the-” 

“You think I was born with these eyes? You think I’m part cat?” Lala questioned. “Nooo,” Aziz hedged, already seeing he was going to be wrong, “Not anymore. It’s just your mom has the same eyes so I-”

“It’s spell.” Lala explained, “My mom did it when she got her staff. She did it to me when magic got through to the Isle. It helps me understand the leopards and for them to understand my orders, and it helps my reflexes. There is always a way to improve. Not that I needed improving, but I’ll admit some leopard senses are better than human’s. Like smell. Now I can smell everyone’s scent a mile away.”  .

“Scent?” “Yes, your natural scent. You smell like all that baklav Jordan’s been giving you.” She sniffed the air around him again, “Sand. Jasmine. Musk.”

“What does Jordan smell like?” Aziz asked curiously, and a little relieved that he didn’t smell worse like blood and sweat and general stink from not showering for two weeks.

“Hmm I can’t get a clear smell. You know, not objects per say. But she smells like pheromones, sometimes like fire, sand and wind. Mainly reeks of desperation.”

“Well we’re all in desperate straits here.” Aziz chuckled even though it wasn’t really that funny. Well sort of. Jordan absolutely hated not being in control. Or at least looking like she wasn’t in control. She’d freak if she knew that she quote unquote “reeked of desperation.”

“What about Jay?”

“Sweat, oil, grease, brass, musk, dirt. Something else I can’t tell which usually means someone’s hiding something or lying. Not a surprise there. He’s lucky no one else can smell him, the stench of oil and deceit is unbearable on him.”

“Yeah, good thing. I doubt he’d have a lot of admirers around him if he did.” Aziz said, feeling his mind wander off to too familiar but inevitable train of envious thought. 

“Admirers? He has admirers in Auradon? I thought you people didn��t like thieves and bad guys. Why is he popular?”

“He’s good now.” Aziz reminded her, but couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into his voice as he thought of the crowds praising Jay as he scored yet another goal. All the girls and some guys ooing at him and being utterly charmed as he showed off that he stole their wallets. Or if he executed a pretty decent backflip. The guy looked so cool and attractive no matter what he did. And that bad boy act made him even cooler in everyone’s eyes.

“He’s a good thief like Aladdin,” he remembered hearing someone say and Aziz had burned. Good thief?! Jay wasn’t a good thief! Jay wasn’t stealing things in Auradon because he was hungry or wanted to give to the poor. He stole because he was greedy. Aziz could steal too, Dad taught him the tricks, but when he showed off, he got no applause. They thought he was being inappropriate for a prince of his station.

Or now that Jay was here, it was a second-rate kind of steal. He could steal a watch from someone, but Jay could steal a person’s computer and lunch bag. He got the bigger score.

“People love him and his parkor and stupid tourney goals.” Aziz genuinely growled. He felt his blood pump at how everyone were magnets drawn to his presence while he waited in the wings of the tourney field. They did all the same activities, but Jay was better. People were saying he was equal to Aladdin.

If he was forgettable before Jay came around, now he was just invisible.

And honestly useless compared to Jay. He knew Jordan invited him on this mission because she trusted him and it would be breaking unofficial rule that if one of them went on a life changing save the world adventure, the other had to come too, that was just how things were done. But had he really done anything useful?

No, he had gotten captured. They all had gotten captured but he was the only one who had almost died. Because he was mortal, untrained and weak.

The thoughts came again. Had really been less than a week since he had been in the dungeon? Less than a week but at times he still could feel it as if it had been hours ago.

He could remember it all, some of it was blurred darkness. The only thing registering was that he was in pain. But he remembered the beginning.

Staqauit wasted no time grabbing his throat with one hand and choking him, Chimera and Illusion wrapped their arms around him almost as if they were giving a comforting hug. The thought was quickly diminished as their claws tore through his shirt and dug into his skin, he could feel it, feel the slight curve of their sharpness like a hook that wouldn’t be able to get out. And they didn’t no matter how he fruitlessly thrashed.

But it was only the beginning…

Just as he saw the world fuzz around the edges Staqauit threw him to the ground with Chimera and Illusion still stuck to him.

“Squish” Aziz wanted to scream at the pain that entered his torso and at the sickening sound of his blood squirting out. It felt his insides were dipped into boiling water.  

But he didn’t, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He was supposed to be a hero, he would not admit weakness like this. He would use his wits to get out of it.

But he had barely time to think up a clever escape as he vainly scrambled to stop the blood from gushing out more. He didn’t recall any of the princes or his father ever being stabbed mid-battle.

Chimera and Illusion extricated themselves from him, their low voices purring contentedly at the pain wrought.

Aziz tried to get up but he couldn’t. He felt the stabbing pain even though he wasn’t being hit anymore. He couldn’t concentrate. He just felt the agony. He struggled to his feet but the muscles in his legs gave out as he slipped on the puddle of his own blood that was seeping the floor.

“Ah ah ah, you think I’m done with you?” Staqauit’s accented voice sneered, “That was only a minor surface wound.”

Aziz didn’t look at the man. He was too concerned with trying to stand up straight again, but that was for naught when he felt the scraping cement of what seemed to be a boulder dropped on his back.

“Carry this to the other side of the room. Double time.” Staqauit ordered, his rapier scraping the ground in front of Aziz’s face.

Aziz didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea. Perhaps because he truly couldn’t think of what else to do. He rationalized to himself in some irrational way that if he did this, maybe Staqauit would get bored. Maybe he’d survive.  So he did as Staqauit ordered. He tried to lift the boulder.

He felt his hands bleed as they scraped and tensed to keep the boulder steady on his back. Bent down so low that his knees touched his chest. Pressing hard on the wound.

“At least it’s stopped bleeding,” was the sole hysterical thought in his mind. His lungs felt they were burning and just pounding his chest as if to get out of his body. Blood rushed in his ears and the slow smack of Staqauit’s whip on the floor, keeping time, sounded like gunshots to his ears.

He wasn’t breathing right. He knew that. Aziz felt like he had been running for miles. His throat felt the need for oxygen and his eyes watered. But he managed to get one foot forward, his thoughts running wild.

Where were the others? When was Jordan going to come back? For he knew Jordan would come to him the moment she could as she had since he was 4. What if that ruined the mission? That she failed because he was too weak to save himself?

Then his mind took a turn to what he had been suppressing the moment Staqauit got hold of this throat. What if this was it? What if this was how he was going to die?

His knees buckled at the thought and he fell to the ground, allowing the boulder to drop from his back to feel the sting of the whip. This time he didn’t hold back the scream.

That scream was like a whistle for them as Chimera and Illusion pounced, their punches, scratches and kicks indistinguishable from one another.

And there was more…. he remembered the water boarding vaguely but he was glad he mostly blacked out of that, the boulder and the choking was enough for him.

But when he woke up and saw Lala, all he felt was shame that he had to be rescued. 

Like every fight, he thought of what he should have done after the confrontation was over. When Staqauit was choking him, he should have kicked him back in the stomach. The stomach area was always a quick disable to an opponent. Staqauit would have let him go and then he could have parkored and fought his way out with the weapons that were stationed around the dungeon.

But he hadn’t done that. He had thrashed and took the assault and hadn’t been able to think up anything on the sly like he knew Jay was infamous for.

With that thought, some defeated admittance slithered into his voice. Not that it was much of a defeat. It was barely a competition when Jay was naturally better and Aziz could never match no matter how hard he tried. “People love him, he’s strong and fast.. everyone wants him or to be like him…..I wish I could be like him too.”

He hated how much it was true.

“Why?” Lala scrunched her nose in confusion.

Aziz sighed, wishing his explanation didn’t sound so pathetic, “I’m forgettable in Auradon. I’m the third in line for the throne so I’m not inheriting the kingdom like all the other guys in my class. And I’m not that talkative. Believe me, in Auradon that is not a good thing if you want people to notice you. Or at least not be forgettable, and Jay can...” he trailed off. He didn’t want to get into the time in the dungeon. She had been there, she knew he was weak.

“And how does Jay fit into this?”

“He’s like me, I guess. Only better in everything. Better thief, better at tourney, more witty, better at flirting. I just blend in...I don’t want that anymore it sucks.”

“Blending in is a good thing. It allows you to skulk and learn your enemies’ tactics so you can ambush them.” Lala said.

“Great. But that’s in the wild. I’m not willing to move to the jungle just so my introvertedness can be an asset.”

“Okay maybe the ambush thing isn’t important but it is still applicable. It’s good that you’re not as outgoing like the others. Look at those people bragging and flirting and trying to garner attention onto themselves, they’re annoying. It’s always them, them, flash and boasts. They would never survive in life because they are always thinking of themselves. They don’t observe their surroundings, they miss the details that could help in the future. Like- like? I know-A fool who does not observe will fail. They will fail and try again and fail and try again. But a person who does take in their surroundings will learn the lesson once and remember it.”

“You don’t dominate the conversation but when you do, it is sensible and important. You don’t waste words. Same with your actions. You don’t talk the talk, you let your actions show how you get things done. I wouldn’t trust those extroverted people with my life. They’re too bold and impulsive and think with their fists. I ca-People can respect you. Trust you. You are genuine, and witty because you think so much, you will be successful later on.”

“I guess so.” Aziz smudged the dirt-packed floor with his foot, watching the sight of a small mealworm that had been habitating there, crawl out, “But it sucks. I get being successful later in life but what about now? In Auradon, no one takes a second look at me. You have to be a really sociable or talented person like Jay to get noticed. I can’t do that. I try but I- And, and what about in the dungeon, my observation skills gave me nothing! If I act a little more like Jay maybe I wouldn’t be the weak link needing to be rescued.”  Aziz blurted out.

Lala didn’t speak and Aziz cringed, staring at the ground. But the silence was growing so long he had to look back to gauge her reaction and saw Lala was waiting for him to look at her. 

Then she spoke, “You didn’t escape but you did survive. That takes a special inner strength especially when your enemies wish to demoralize and destroy you. And it is useless to ponder what others would have done when they weren’t been in the situation. You did what you could, and if you are so concerned about your aptitude, I’ll teach you. You have the strength, you need to practice better technique. Stop the self pity it’s a disgusting habit.”

Aziz tried to protest, but felt himself only mouthing the words as a damn nervous blush starting crawling up his neck. He still felt like he should have done better but he appreciated Lala’s words. He knew she held herself and almost everyone else on the standard of their physical skill and made it known when she thought someone was weak. For her to claim that he was strong even after she healed him, rescued him and saw him beaten bloody and battered, it meant something. 

And what she was about to say earlier? That little slip-up. She respected him. He hadn’t thought earning her respect was something he had wanted, but as she said it.. he felt so good that he did.

“As for the others, fuck them.” Lala interrupted, “Isn’t Auradon a place  where you’re not supposed to be shallow? See beyond first impressions and get to know them? If they don’t do that, fuck them. You shouldn’t even be complaining that people don’t notice you because it means to ones who do, actually care. You’re less outgoing than others. It’s not your fault that they don’t try to see beyond.”

Lala was still talking but Aziz stopped listening. What she said, “It’s not your fault” hit him like a sandstorm. The images of his attempts to try to be better. More funny. More entertaining. More talented. More outgoing. Things that people would want to talk to him like they gathered around his father or around Chad and the other royals.

Yet he was outshone by someone better. His constant overthinking working against him as he talked, praying that he didn’t look like he was trying too hard as he was. Praying that he wasn’t going to be forgettable to people. He failed. He wondered what was so wrong with him that made him invisible. He wondered how people like Lonnie and Jordan could insist he was so fun to be around when he couldn’t make his presence known when he was in the room with the likes of Jay.

But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was born to be more of a listener than a doer. He preferred being one on one with people. He couldn’t change that. But he could accept it. He could accept that he was never going to be the star of the room and that people may not give him a second glance.

If so, then fuck them. Because it was true. If they could write him off as just forgettable, then he didn’t need their attention anyway.

His shoulder moved and he snapped back to realize he had zoned out in front of Lala. He felt a blush crawl up his neck, making him flush more. He hated how obviously red it was against his olive skin. “Sorry I- I was listening. You really.. I realized..I mean. You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Lala. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.” He leaned forward to hug her but held back. Touchy-feely was not the norm on the Isle, but he felt so grateful for her words that it felt wrong just to say thanks. So he settled for leaning close and smiling. He was pretty sure it was the smile of an idiot but he did it anyway. The nice thing was Lala gave a small-closed lip smile in return and roughly booped his nose.

“I know you needed it. Anyone who is considering to act more like Jay needs to be talked off the deep end.”

Feeling a bit more generous now that he was coming around to accepting he didn’t need to be as cool as Jay to be noticed, Aziz snapped back into psychologist mode, trying to see his observances of Jay through a more objective, less jealous lens.

Not that he had much time to observe Jay since he got hypnotized which was surely a traumatic betrayal on its own since it came from his father’s snake staff. Which spoke to how uncaring and domineering Jafar must be as a father if he felt the need to control his son.

“I don’t know. I think Jay is more than the impulsive idiot you take him for. I believe it's just a facade he puts up.” Aziz mused “To annoy people? It works.” Lala rolled her eyes.

“What went down between you that you hate him so much?” Aziz asked.

“I don’t hate him, I dislike him. He’s annoying. He stole my spears for himself, he thinks he’s so great he tries to fight Mabaya on his own and almost gets both of us killed because again, he took my weapons and then broke them! What idiot tries to chuck a spear out a charging elephant? It does nothing. If he had to throw the spear, he should have aimed at a vital joint or his eye at least. I can’t respect such idiocy.” Lala huffed.

“I understand but he was a bit out of his element in the jungle and it is his fall-back to try to boast and impress. Usually people who do that are trying to hide something.” Aziz said. Then he thought of a saying of his mother. It was a bit of what Vks called, sentimental Auradon crap, but he felt it should be said, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

“Whatever.” Lala yawned.

“What happened to not judging people? Look beyond the surface.” Aziz teased.

“That was for you. I’m a bad person, I don’t need to follow that rule.” Lala sniffed haughtily.

It would have been so easy to take that as another little joke in their back and forth, but his observing skills struck again. She sounded haughty but her eyes were downcast, and considering what she said that she was too like her mother… she felt it was true.

“You’re not exactly like your mother, you know. I don’t think so at least” Aziz said softly in case Lala didn’t want to broach the subject and could pretend to ignore him.

“I know I’m not exactly like her. I’m only as close to her as she allows me to be. She’s always one step ahead.” Lala muttered, not looking at him. “If I was like her she’d have me be the princess of Opar. But I’m not good enough for that. Not like Tarzan’s children.” “I don’t know Tarzan’s children that well but I don’t think Queen La would find them worthy heirs. I never saw Kerchak swing from a tree or pick up a sharp object in my life. And Victoria-”

“No. Not Tarzan and Jane’s children. Tarzan and my mom’s. The ones she’s planning to have in the future. They don’t even exist and I’m not as good as them according to her because I got one stupid scar and I’m claustrophobic.” Lala scowled, smacking the ground in anger of her own weaknesses.

“You seem to be handling your claustrophobia.” Aziz encouraged. 

“As long as I don’t think about it. That’s why I study so hard. It’s because it takes my mind off where I am, not because it requires my intense study. Trust me. But at night…” Lala inhaled deeply and tensed, “I hate this place. I miss the fresh air and space. Every time someone closes the door, I feel like it's going to be lock with this air that-” She inhaled deeply again.

“Let’s go to a window,” Aziz suggested motioning to leave the room. Lala took the offer eagerly and they bounded up the stairs to Lala’s room, the leopard men obediently behind them.

Lala threw open the windows to the balcony and breathed deeply. A blissful smile enveloped her features as her body relaxed. The wind was out today, and unlike Auradon, this wasn’t a refreshing light breeze. On the Isle, when the wind blew, it blew like a gust and Aziz was impressed that Lala stood straight without bending to its battering assult. But it fit her. Lala was the person who could stand strong against natural forces. Her face perfectly serene as the wind whipped her white braid about and ruffled her long sleeves.

Aziz stood next to her, keeping a hand to the side of his face as the gusts constantly pushed his bangs into his eyes and mouth and became a general nuisance. “I don’t think you’re exactly like your mom. Not just because you can’t live to her caliber.  You’re not shallow considering you speak to a guy who hasn’t rung any animal by his neck. Despite your wish for a kingdom, I don’t think, at least I’m guessing, you don’t have a real desire to lord over others like a tyrant.” 

“From what I’ve observed, and I’m a pretty good observer if I say so myself. You’re reserved because you know that’s the way to survive. But I also think it speaks to how genuine you are. You don’t deal with bullshit, if you respect a person you show it, if you don’t, you don’t. A little blunt but honesty is better than fakery. You seem to actually like learning and challenging yourself with the Atlantean magic. You laughed at my jokes which shows you have a brilliant sense of humor... And despite what you say, you did care about your siblings. You can’t live up to her mom and her imaginary children? Then fuck her. You’re pretty formidable by yourself. You’d be successful as a warrior or a priestess or whatever. You’d have awesome adventures no matter what you do because you’re a badass warrior princess.``

Although she wasn’t looking at him, he could tell she was listening. He could see the corner of her mouth twitching up and down, fighting a smile. So he decided to return the favor and nose boop her to get her attention.

She batted his hand away but a small laugh escaped her lips. “Badass warrior princess. Hmm you observed me very well.”

“Eh little observations here and there, some is just gut instinct. Some people may think a person’s reserve is them being stuck up but I get your’s is more than that.” Aziz coughed as a piece of his hair blew into his mouth.

“People may think you’re forgettable, but I understand you’re more of an observer.” Lala pursed her lips, catching her braid as it flew to hit Aziz’s cheek.

Aziz rubbed his cheek, his mother’s saying popping into his head again. He shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious and nervous about repeating the quote. Which was weird because he said it about Jay just a few minutes before. But saying it, to Lala, seemed more..more meaningful somehow.

No, he was overthinking all of this again so Aziz ignored it, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

Lala smiled at him and there was something.. a something in the air. Energy, a vibe, he wasn’t sure but it made the fact that even though they were in the blustery air, he felt as if he were enclosed in a small world between the two of them.  Time to change the subject then!  “So speaking of observing, I haven’t really had the chance to do it around here much, but isn’t it fascinating to watch the people here?” Aziz asked. People watching was his go to subject for most conversations. Not that many people had much to contribute. People watching was not a thing most people engaged in which he thought was a shame. It was the most fun ever! People  had such weird idiosyncrasies even when they did a normal thing like walking past whether it was an odd head bop or having feet pointed in first position or the like.  Lala shrugged and Aziz nodded understandingly. He knew the topic wouldn’t probably go anywhere but then...“What's people watching?”  “Oh it’s this thing where you just sit and watch random people. You know observe their habits, stuff that they do.” Aziz sighed. It was a lot more interesting action than in explanation.  “Oooh!” Lala nodded understandingly, “Like observing your prey and enemies. I’ve done that lots of times. It’s entertaining.”  Aziz’s eyes widened, “You think it’s fun too!” 

Lala looked at him as if he was crazy for suggesting otherwise, “Yes. It’s a useful skill and people do such weird stuff.” 

“Such weird stuff!” Aziz said at the same time, and then he tried to dial down the enthusiasm in his voice when Lala made the “calm down” sign, snorting at his excitement.  “Remember when we were at Gaston’s bar and that Hun guy was fighting Stanley? I noticed in other fights that he does this thing with his head.. ugh I can’t describe it. But like he’d almost twist his...”  ———————————————————————————————

That had been three days ago and they almost talked for an hour when Kaj II growled his warning that Queen La was arriving and Aziz had to swing off the balcony and climb against the wall to the correct balcony that would lead to Jade’s room. 

Not that he had realized it but in hindsight, that might have been the moment he developed a crush on the warrior princess. Ever since then, he just… he just wanted to be around her a little more compared to the others. He wanted to hear more about her opinions or stories or anything she had to say.

And whenever she smiled at his jokes even if she rolled her eyes because it was corny, he felt like he won a tourney victory or something. And she was so..so graceful. Not cat-like graceful but beautiful, every move she makes was stunning.

Not that he allowed himself to think about it too much. There were more important things at stake like saving the world, and if he thought about how he had a crush on Lala then he’d get self-conscious and nervous and he didn’t want that. Their friendship was just fine for him. He was even teaching her monkey. 

Not that it was any of Jordan’s business.

“It’s not important.” Aziz said.

“It better not be. You can try to deny it but I can see that “Can you feel the love tonight” nonsense from a mile away. Why don’t you just forget crushing on mermaids and.. and maybe a nice girl from Agrabah. Or a nice boy. You had such a good time with Mena, remember.” 

“Mena was...Honestly Mena was the only guy I.. I can’t. I keep comparing other men to him which is— Can we not talk about him?” Aziz growled, partly from the memory of his sole boyfriend who had used him for the status of dating a prince and had been cheated on him the whole time, and partly because Jordan was bringing him up even though she knew it was a touchy subject. 

“I know he didn’t work out but it’s like you told me, you can’t give up on the whole male population because of one cheating boyfriend. Cheating would be nothing compared to this. This crush is a mistake.” Jordan huffed.

“Why is it a mistake exactly?” Aziz raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s judgemental attitude. Usually she was all for Aziz meeting someone and start planning their dates even though her tastes were a bit extravagant like setting off fireworks when he leaned in for a kiss.  

“I get the appeal, really. She was a mysterious stranger swinging on a vine. But she’s the same stranger who broke Calix’s arm! He’s lucky that he has magic on his side and could heal the arm that she broke. If he was mortal, he’d be doomed. There’s no hospitals here, we’d have to cut it off.”

“That’s not how unattended broken arms work, Jordan.” Aziz rubbed his temples at her wildly dramatic reasons why having a crush on Lala would be bad, “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do anything when there are more important things at stake.”

“I know. I’m just saying you shouldn’t even pursue this when we get back to Auradon. Think about, Aziz. Really think about it. Imagine what would happen if you even got together? She’s the daughter of Queen La. Allah knows that if she got jealous, she’d murder the other person and kill you for looking a for wandering eyes.” Jordan said.

“Then I guess you both have something in common.” Aziz said sarcastically, “Like when you sent your ex a box of scorpions when you found him cheating on you.”

“That’s completely different! He deserved it! You don’t deserve to feel pain. I’m telling you it’s not good to act on love at first sight.”

“Love at first sight?” Aziz scoffed. Did she not even know him? They always joked about people who thought they fell in love at first sight. 

Sure, for some it was true. Auradon was practically built on it but more often than not it could lead to a very difficult marriage. That’s why Snow White took that job as a reporter so she wouldn’t be around King Florian so much.

Jordan should know him better, he may get a crush at first glance, but he wouldn’t act on it unless he was sure there was more.

“I’m not in love with her. I’m not doing anything with her.”

“You’re hanging out with her!” Jordan cried.

“I’m also hanging out with Jade. With your logic, I could be crushing on her. She’s clever, she’s daring, we have things in common, we can do parkour together. Plus she’s the daughter of one of our families’ enemies. Star crossed lovers and all that. It’s a perfect fairytale romance.” Aziz breathlessly mocked.

“Jade is not… she wouldn’t use you like Lala.”

“She’s a Vk, who says Jade wouldn’t.” Aziz pointed out.

“Jade’s like you and me.” Jordan defended lamely.

“How? What? Because she’s descended from Agrabahians?” Aziz cried. He knew she could be judgemental and superficial but really? This?

“No. I mean technically yeah but no. She and Jay. She cares about him. They’re like us.” Jordan said meaningfully, grasping his hands and looking lovingly in his eyes in a way that made Aziz feel small and childish.

He hated it when she got like this. Acting like she was so much more worldly and knowing because she was a genie. She had a duty to protect him, the poor sheltered mortal prince who didn’t know any better or understand the morally grey areas of life. He survived torture in the damn dungeon!

Which now that he thought about it, beyond the hug Jordan hadn’t asked him a single thing about the incident. It seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Yeah, she cared about his safety. But for all the wrong reasons.  

“So? If that was true then why don’t you trust Jay if his bond with Jade is so much like our bond.” Aziz asked, pointing out the hole in her little argument.

“Well um I, Jay’s Jay’s complicated and I mean I don’t distrust him, it’s just after he said that thing about me giving..”

The epiphany dawned on Aziz before Jordan finished her sentence. How could he not have realized it before? It was all Jordan ever worried about.

“It’s because Jade hasn’t asked you for wishes and Lala has. That’s it.”

“She probably figured out that I’d back out of my promise so she’s trying to use you so you could convince me to give her wishes!” Jordan cried like a detective solving a case with her convoluted logic.

“And you think she’s going to seduce me to do that? Do you have so little trust in me?” Aziz used the calm steely tone that he knew would annoy her most. Not only did she act like he was a sheltered, naive mortal but a weak willed one too.

“NO no I do trust you! I know you would never intentionally do that to me. But I don’t want you to get hurt just because she’s manipulating you to get to me!” Jordan screamed, stamping her foot childishly that he was not giving into her.

“How self-absorbed can you get? Jordan, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your powers. Is it such a crazy thought that she might actually fall for me?” Aziz matched his volume to hers.

“Why wouldn’t she want me? I have phenomenal cosmic power and convenience for everyone. A lamp that forces me to obey their desires. You can’t offer her that. You’re just..you.”

Aziz stared at her, the sentence hitting him like a gut punch. He couldn’t believe Jordan of all people was saying this to him. She was the one who always helped him out on dates and assured him that anyone would fall in love with him after

….Maybe all that helping out wasn’t just from the goodness of her heart? It was because she secretly thought he couldn't get a girl on his own. Why would he with his so few talents? He wasn’t debenoir or charming enough like Jay. He wasn’t going to inherit the throne like other princes. What did he have to offer that the other boys at Auradon Prep couldn’t offer or even top? All he had was a genie friend who’d make “a whole new world”  dates.

Moreover, it hurt. His best friend in the world also thought that he wasn’t good enough on his own. She thought he needed her to survive through life and love and all those trials.

Now he was glad he told Lala how he felt ignored. Clearly his so-called “best friend/wingwoman/sister” was too oblivious and selfish to comfort him. Not even that. She secretly shared everyone else’s opinion that he was forgettable!

“Me? What does that-“ Aziz snarled.

“I-I just don’t want you to spend so much time with her.” Jordan seemed to sense his anger and began backtracking, “You know I don’t have a lot of people to hang out with. So many people just want me for my wishes. You-you don’t want to use me. You’re my best friend. That’s why I need you. After everything I’ve done for you, all I’m asking is for you to be my friend.” Aziz heard her but didn't listen, her hurtful words still ringing in his ears. Besides that was completely unbelievable. She was afraid of losing him? That was a ridiculous idea and she knew that. If she was going to lie to his face, she could try to make it believable! 

And what? It wasn’t like he owed her for everything she had done for him. That wasn’t how friendship worked! He didn’t ask her to do things and join adventures. She did it herself because she was his friend. 

Or he had thought it was because they were sibling/friends. Apparently it was because she believed he needed her. 

“You need me around forever to sooth your constant paranoid insecurity. I get it.” Aziz rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

“It’s not a paranoid insecurity. It’s a fact.” Jordan claimed.

“Jordan, have you ever thought, maybe the reason people will only look at you for your wishes is because your general personality is unbearable to deal with. That’s why no one wants to be your friend. There’s nothing likable to be friends with but thank Allah, at least if they hang around long enough they’ll get wishes out of you.” Aziz snapped.

Jordan froze, clearly hurt by the sound of the crack in her voice, “Do you feel that way too?”

Aziz didn’t give himself time to think. She didn’t deserve any amount of comfort from him after what she just said. She didn’t need to act like she knew everything about life and treat him like an incapable, forgettable mortal. That was what he was to her, a mortal. And he knew from all their talks together just how little she respected mortals. And apparently he was no exception. 

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

For a brief eerie moment, the wind was sucked out of the room and silence reigned. Oppressive, weighty silence that he could literally feel pressing against his chest and head and the rest of his body. He began to wonder if he should try to escape, that Jordan was about to do something they’d both regret.

“GET OUT!!” Jordan screamed.

“I can’t get out. You control your lamp.” Aziz hissed through his teeth to keep from yelling again. 

“Fuck you.” The sight of Jordan giving him the finger was his last vision before pink smoke and sand fogged up his view and he rudely fell to the floor.

He glared at the lamp, imagining its arrogant, selfish, all knowing, cosmic occupant pacing the floor, creating a mini sand storm in her anger. Fine.

“Fuck you too.”

[thewinterwaifu]

Part 1: May I pls have a Berserk matchup? I'm a female Taurus INFP-T, demi with tendency for men. I'm 5'3", pale skin and brown w/ blonde ombre hair that reaches shoulders, but with a no. 0 undercut from about and inch above my ears down. I'm ambiverted, so I change depending on who I'm with. I have Asperger's, selective mutism, haphephobia and severe social anxiety. I am a CSA survivor. Quiet and reserved, unless something really goes against what I stand for.

Part 2: (Berserk matchup with female demi Taurus INFP-T) I love both children and animals, and have an extreme soft spot and protective side for them. I'm the emotional support pillar for most people, as well as the mother figure. I get extremely protective of people closest to me. I struggle interacting with strangers that make me feel uncomfortable.

Part 3: (Berserk matchup with female demi Taurus INFP-T (who didn't realize she didn't paste the whole thing completely until after it got posted)) I'm not quick to anger, but when I do get really upset or angry I have three defaults: a) shutting down in quiet seething rage and just send the person scathing glares, b) storming off and crying, or c) butting heads with offender - which my friends say is my scariest rage, since apparently most of them are ready to run when they hear my voice then.

Part 4: (matchup for female demi Taurus INFP-T) Apologies for the length, but this is the last one, I swear. If there's any characters I wouldn't want to end up with, it would be Serpico or Judea, as I only see them platonically.

Hello ♡!I love doing Berserk stuff hehe

I match you with...

Guts!

You may have clashed as first because you are both stubborn and refuse to back down when angry, so you may have had MANY misunderstandings at first

With time though, he started warming up to you, and hey it's not like he could blame you, in Midland it's often be killed or be killed for most people

Guts completely gets your haphephobia since he shares it and therefore affection between the both of you will only come when both of you are ready and 100% comfortable with it

He admires how despite usually being a rather quiet person you don't hesitate to stand up for what you believe in! Despite not wanting to admit it, Guts would really benefit from having somebody who doesn't judge him, loves him for who he is and willing to support him emotionally. And of course, he promises to forever keep you safe in return! He would never let harm come your way. When you and the rest of the travelling group get to a city or some place else, Guts is more than happy to handle strangers for you as well

He may tease you about your soft spot for children or animals, but he actually finds it cute! In a place such as Midland , someone who truly cares about others and doesn't step on others isn't that common. You give him some hope for the future, despite how pessimistic he is!

Other possible matches:Adult/Fantasia arc Rickert,Luca,Roderick

[kuno-chan]

Love Amongst the Dragons: Gales of Yesterday - Ch. 3, The Tempest

Summary: In a sentence, Prince Callum doesn't care for dragons. He has his reasons for not being a fan, but the Dragon Ban has expired and now his life is full of them as the Dragon Keep has finished and everyone around him is preoccupied in making sure everything is ready for the Xadians arriving so the dragon rider's training program may succeed. Now, Callum is up to his neck in everything that has to do with dragons as he does his best to satiate some dangerous curiosities, wrestle sorrowful memories and support his stepfather, King Harrow, in this time of redemption.

Rating: G

--

Please consider reading and reviewing on AO3

--

The human kingdoms were a strange place. There was very little magic. In fact, there was basically no magic anywhere.

Rayla found it rather bizarre,honestly. She said as much to Runaan.

“Humans were not born with magic,” he told her, concealing a knife in his boot. He instructed her to do the same. This entire diplomatic mission was supposed to be peaceful, but it wasn’t as if the humans were completely trustworthy. Runaan’s chief fear was what might happen if things went wrong; if they suddenly found themselves surrounded by human guards with no way out. They had their dragons, but now, so did the humans. “We can’t expect their lands to have any, either. Otherwise, they would have figured out a way to harness it.”

“They have dark magic,” Rayla said.

“What they call magic. Dark magic is not true magic.”

Rayla nodded. She agreed wholeheartedly.

“Are Luna and Athena secure?” he asked.

“In the stables. They’re resting, I’m sure. It was a pretty long trip for them. Luna was getting a bit cranky after a few days.”

Runaan raised his brows at her in question. “Is Luna secure?”

“... she was when I left her,” Rayla said, grinning nervously. “I swear.”

“And we must keep it that way. Dragons are new for most of these humans and Luna will spook them if she simply shows up.”

“She’ll probably just steal their kitchen utensils.”

“And I imagine they value their kitchen utensils.”

Rayla shrugged, though she shared a knowing smile. “Oh, I suppose. I’ll make sure she knows she can’t play with the whisks around here.”

“Good. Now, come.” Runaan beckoned. “I want you to be there when I speak with the King. You should know how to navigate these situations. Diplomacy is a skill you might learn.”

Rayla followed Runaan to a more private room than she was expecting. It was small, not even half the size of the throne room, more intimately decorated with paintings and items that she assumed the king held dear. A drawing of him and the boy she saw upon arriving at the castle hung on the wall.

“Please, both of you,” King Harrow gestured. “Sit. I appreciate you being available despite how tired you must be.”

Runaan nodded. “It’s what we came to do. We ought to start with a conversation.”

Rayla sat quietly, as ordered, but also impressed. Humans were not Runaan’s favorite people in the entire world. So, when he showed no qualms about leading the diplomatic party into the human kingdoms, Rayla was surprised... and not. On one hand, Runaan didn’t care for humans for a variety of reasons. On the other hand, he would perform his duty without complaint. Without fail.

So, Rayla did as expected, she sat quietly and observed the situation. She even debated sitting or standing in the corner. But she took a seat and Runaan gave her no indication that he disapproved.

“I agree. So, first, let me open with a question: What are your main concerns? I want to address those before we move on to other things. I realize the need for transparency if there is to be any trust between Xadia and Katolis.”

Runaan nodded. “The treaty has expired, but Xadia is concerned about the humans using the dragons solely as war machines. Yes, in battle they are invaluable, but to raise and use dragons with that purpose and that purpose alone is to foster a culture where they are nothing more than tools. And, that, is a dangerous sentiment to breed. Especially considering the use of… other magics among humans.”

“I absolutely agree,” King Harrow said. “And you have my word that I am doing everything in my power to make sure those in charge of the dragons’ training understand this. These are creatures who deserve respect if we are to gain their allegiance, should we even call it that. There must be respect and trust between dragon and rider.”

Rayla almost raised her brows. She hadn’t expected that answer.

“Then, we are in agreement,” Runaan said. “As long as that ideal shines through there shouldn’t be a problem. As for the Dragon Keep, who oversees it?”

“I’ve put Lord Viren in charge of the Dragon Keep. He is my closest advisor and I would trust him with my life.” The king stood said.

“The high mage.”

A pause. The king nodded.

Runaan said nothing.

The king broke the long silence that followed. “Lord Viren is my responsibility and I will see to it that nothing, and I mean nothing, atrocious happens to those dragons. Contrary to what you may believe, I do not always agree with him and his… methods.”

“I will hold you accountable then.”

King Harrow sat back but said nothing. He only nodded.

Rayla sat in silence the entire time as the king and Runaan discussed the conditions of which Xadia would allow the humans use of their dragons for military power without risk of transgression.

All the while, Rayla examined the king. This was the man who drove their kingdoms to war. The man who had a part, however big or small, in killing Thunder. They never even recovered his egg. Some part of her wanted to hate him. Wanted to blame him for the situations that plagued her life. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to hate him for all the sincerity in his eyes. Runaan could see the conflict written on her face once they finished an hour later.

“You’re troubled,” he said.

“He’s… not what I expected.”

“I imagine he’s not. What do you make of him?” he asked.

“... He regrets.”

“As he should. Many people died in his war. Human or not, those decisions weigh on him.”

“What do you think of him?”

“I can respect a man who realizes his mistakes, but it doesn’t make the mistakes go away. The people who died won’t come back. Regardless if he knows what he did was wrong, those who laid down their lives or suffered in the shadow of his decisions gain no reprieve.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.” It was more of a statement than a clarification.

“I will hold judgement. Your judgement is your own. I expect you on your best behavior, regardless.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You don’t have to keep telling me, you know.”

Runaan only made a noise that told her more than enough about his expectations.

-:-:-:-

In the morning Callum saw his brother for all of ten minutes before Ezran found somewhere else to be. He was starting to wonder if he upset his little brother somehow, but that usually wasn’t the case when Ezran left to go exploring. Callum wondered, but he supposed it was something else.

Either way, it left him somewhat alone for the day. Claudia and Soren both had other obligations and different things to do under the orders of their father. Soren and Varius were busy with the new dragon riders and Claudia was doing research for her father on some aspect of dragon behavior.

Even his stepfather was entertaining and making sure the Xadians were comfortable. They were planning to visit the Dragon Keep soon.

Every day was about dragons, really. Every day Callum woke up, the dragons were a part of their lives in some capacity. He hadn’t expected it. Not like this.

He still tensed up when he woke in the morning. It took him ten minutes or so just to get himself prepared for the day, even if nothing was inherently wrong. His stepfather always told him he didn’t have to be involved and, initially, Callum had completely prepared himself to do just that. No dragons, no way.

Then, the Dragon Keep went up. Then, dragons started being brought in. Soren got Varius. Claudia began looking more into it. His stepfather talked about it more. They assigned Lord Viren to the project.

Suddenly, everywhere he turned… dragons, dragons, dragons.

It used to be thirty minutes in the morning. Thirty minutes before he could get up and face his new reality.

It made him sick, having to look at it all.

All of it just reminded him of his mother.

Her breath rattled in her chest.

It stopped.

Callum’s chest tightened. The thoughts threatened to overwhelm him when he thought about it too much. When he thought about it all, sometimes.

With Ezran busy for the day, apparently off on his own shenanigans, Callum took his sketchbook and, against his better judgement, found his way to the Dragon Keep.

At first, that was how it started and why he ended up going there at all. As long as he stayed on the wall and far from the actual creatures, he could sketch them to his heart’s content. He would sketch one dragon, then go home. It gradually became two or more. Now, he didn’t really have a limit. Just whenever he felt finished for the day.

He still stayed high on the wall though. He never ventured close to them. Not once. Not on his life.

When he got to the keep, however, Soren and his dragon riding recruits were using the wall he normally occupied. Whatever they were doing, he didn’t want to disturb them. Step-prince or not, occasionally, it distracted people that he was a prince and was the adopted son of the king. Those who weren’t around him as often sometimes felt like they had to pay him mind. It made Callum uncomfortable.

So, he looked around.

Sketching would have to wait, he supposed.

It probably wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he started poking around. Frankly, he felt like Ezran, just wanting to know what was around the corners, going to places he most likely wasn’t supposed to.

He walked near Lord Viren’s office at the keep, past it and down the hall he’d never bothered going down. The halls were simple but decorated, red rugs, tapestries and weapons hung in traditional Katolis fashion. The hall widened and simplified at the very end. To the right, Callum knew was the arena. To the left, a darker tunnel, but otherwise open. Airy. Breezy, even? Drafty, perhaps was the right word.

Callum knew better, but he took the left anyway. He wanted to know where the breeze came from. Was it another way out? An escape route should this place go up in flames?

What he found was a simple room. The breeze came from the open windows, letting in light and the smell of fresh air; it gave the room a less scary quality than Callum expected. It would have been a perfect place to spend a private moment, were it not for the cage in the center of the room.

And the dragon in the cage.

Blue slitted eyes trained on him. Callum froze.

The Tempest looked at him, eyes focused on his every move. Callum didn’t budge. He and the Tempest stared each other down. Rather, the Tempest stared him down.

Callum just stared.

He stared and prayed.

Could it shoot fire at him from this distance?

Did it shoot fire?

Was it poisonous?

He recalled Soren’s words about Chaos class dragons and realized he’d already made a mistake by praying and not running first. It was too late now though. He was as good as dragon lunch if he moved even one muscle and --

The Tempest’s eyes flickered. It looked him over, then snorted. It went back to laying down.

Callum was almost disappointed. Relieved, but almost disappointed. He wasn’t even worth a dragon’s time.

“Thanks, I guess,” Callum said. “Didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just be--”

There was a muffled string of familiar voices coming from down the hall. The trainers.

And Lord Viren.

Callum closed the door to the room and ducked away from the entrance. If Lord Viren found him down here, he’d be furious and that was not something he wanted to face so close to his office. It was just… an unsettling office. Especially if Lord Viren thought he might have stolen something. No, thank you.

The Tempest went back to staring at him.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave in a minute, okay? I just need to wait until he’s gone,” Callum hissed.

What was he doing? Why was he apologizing to the dragon? The Tempest probably didn’t care one way or another what Callum did so long as he didn’t come and bother him. He didn’t have to worry about that. Callum couldn’t have been tighter against the wall if he tried.

He wasn’t sure which one was worse: Lord Viren or the dragons.

Apparently, Callum had decided Lord Viren right at this moment.

The Tempest groaned and turned over. Fair enough. It didn’t seem to care what Callum did. It had its own problems.

This is what he got for being nosy, he supposed. He’d kept coming to the keep just to draw the dragons for the sake of art and curiosity, knowing what it would make him feel. He went to sleep at night, nowadays, feeling a little more anxious knowing that tomorrow he’d go back. But it was a point of pride for him. This was going to be his life, right? Surrounded by dragons. He ought to face his fears and deal with it.

At least, that’s what he told himself when his heart was beating in his chest so hard it hurt.

He wasn’t good at anything that didn’t have to do with lines on paper.

At the very least, he could face this… issue haunting him.

Every time he saw a dragon, he saw his mother’s dying face.

Callum looked back at the Tempest. A groan escaped the dragon’s mouth and his belly rose and fell. He frowned at the dragon’s breathing. The Tempest seemed… exhausted?

Lord Viren was just outside the door. Callum could hear him, probably making his way to his office.

“... no food, no water. Understood? Make an example out of them if need be. These beasts need to know who’s in charge around here. If they go out of control, we may all end up burned alive.”

The trainer shuddered, then agreed to obey.

In the cell, the Tempest rolled over just barely, lethargic and breathing somewhat labored. Restless, even. He opened and closed his mouth, his tongue lolling out slightly. He wasn’t hurt -- not that Callum would see any bruises with a hide as thick as a dragons, but…

“You’re starving,” Callum said softly.

The Tempest trained a blue eye on him. There was some animosity that kept Callum from getting any closer to him. Humans were not his favorite people in the world. And he had a feeling an elf would not be in his good graces either.

Outside, the door to Lord Viren’s office slammed shut.

Callum didn’t leave right away, but the Tempest looked away from him, curling into a ball as if to protect himself from anymore visitors.

It took a moment for Callum to leave, observing the Tempest before his hands and feet finally found the door, then a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

-:-:-:-

“Prince Callum.”

Callum froze, tensing from Lord Viren’s stern and not so pleased tone of voice. He turned on his heel.

“Lord Viren, I was just, uh, exploring.”

“Were you now?” Lord Viren closed the door to his office. “Exploring the very cell down the hall from my office? How coincidental.”

“Yep, it is pretty strange how we met down here, but I really should be going now--”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

His tone cut like ice.

Callum tried to act like nothing was wrong. “No, sir, I--”

“Then, why don’t you and I remain honest with each other, hm? I know you were down here spying on whatever you think I have hidden away, but I assure you there’s nothing. So, I suggest you run along and not do it again.”

Callum frowned. “If there’s nothing down here then why do you have a dragon in the cell you know I was just in?”

“That dragon is in confinement for poor behavior. There is nothing down there. Nothing that concerns you, at least.”

“You’re starving him.”

“I’m teaching him to listen to his masters. He will be fed and kept alive, but at my discretion.” Viren tapped his staff on the ground. “These are wild beasts, boy. Not humans. And you’re a fool if you truly believe that we shouldn’t protect ourselves from their wrath. If the dragon doesn’t make it that is its own fault for not cooperating.”

“Right now, the king’s wrath is the only one you should worry about.” Callum turned to leave. “When he finds out about this, he’s going to be furious.”

Lord Viren said nothing.

Nothing dismayed him more than the king’s disapproval.

But in a chilling tone Lord Viren said, “He will be… worried.” Callum stopped. “Yes, very worried. This Xadian diplomacy mission is very important to him. Why, if he thought it might fail on account of me, I’m not sure he would even sleep at night. But, I suppose you’re right. The stress of his anger is something I fear. For all our sakes.”

Callum turned to glare at Viren, but the man was already walking away, his cane tapping the ground the only sound between them.

-:-:-:-

No, Lord Viren was…

He was right.

Yes, he was right.

But so was his decision.

Callum couldn’t just let that Tempest starve to death. No, that was wrong in every way and he couldn’t just let it happen.

On the other hand, Lord Viren wasn’t entirely wrong either. His least favorite person right now, but not entirely wrong. Callum thought about it all the way back to the castle and it wasn’t until he ran into Ezran once he got back to their joined rooms.

“Where have you been?” Callum raised a brow at Ezran.

Ezran looked up from where he was playing with Bait. “Callum! Oh, uh… nowhere?”

Callum frowned. “Were you sneaking into the baker’s again?”

Ezran grinned. “Oh, uh, yeah! You caught me.”

Callum snorted and shook his head. “Well, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

Callum told him all of it. About the Tempest he found, wanting to tell the king and his conversation with Lord Viren.

“So, are you going to tell dad?”

“Well, yeah. It’s the right thing to do…” Callum said. “... right?”

Ezran smiled a little. “Of course. We should go tell him right now.”

The king sat in his room, the desk piled high with papers that probably had to do with the arrival of the Xadian diplomats. After all, their safety fell on his shoulders. A heavy responsibility considering everything.

“I’m sorry, boys. I know I was pretty busy all day.”

Callum shook his head. “No, it’s okay. We know you’re busy.”

“Yeah,” Ezran said. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize.”

Harrow sighed and stood from his chair. He paced the room with his hands behind his back. “This diplomatic mission with the Xadians and the Dragon Keep… it all needs to go well. “

“Your Majesty,” Callum started. Harrow looked back at him with a sad smile. Callum cleared his throat. “You know… everybody can see you trying to make up for everything.”

Harrow chuckled a little, a crestfallen tone somewhere in it. “It is very hard to make up for a war you helped start. Believe me, Callum. As it is, I don’t care about my reputation. No. After the things I saw and realizing my part in those horrors? This is my duty. For the sake of peace between our two kingdoms, it is my duty to ensure that this goes well. That Xadia and Katolis -- all the human kingdoms -- can have a chance at real peace and cooperation between all our peoples. Do you boys understand?”

Callum and Ezran looked at each other, then nodded at their father.

“We understand,” Callum said.

Harrow approached them and got down on one knee, coming to eye level with Ezran specifically. “Ezran, one day you will also need to make decisions like this. As king, there will be… a heavy burden on your shoulders. One that I will always be sorry fell on your shoulders. But it’s important that you take this duty seriously. People will look to you for guidance. But to learn how to lead you must learn how to follow and learning to follow means listening. And, right now, as a prince, this is the best time to do just that. I was young when I became king. And perhaps I didn’t listen as a prince as well as I should have. Do you understand why I’m telling you all this?”

Ezran nodded. He even smiled and put Bait down for just a moment. “If I can be half as good a king as you are, then I’ll do great, Dad.”

Ezran hugged him and, a moment later, Callum joined. He felt King Harrow put his arms around them. “Thank you, boys.” When they pulled back, he put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now, it’s getting late. You boys should go and rest. Tomorrow I’m sure will be another long day.”

“Actually, Dad, we--”

“Really should be getting that sleep,” Callum said quickly. He grinned and nodded. “Yup. It’s time to sleep. Just like you said.”

Harrow laughed a little as he rose to his feet. “Very well. You two run along, then. There are other ways for you to get some sleep than to help me with my paperwork.”

They left the king to his dreaded paperwork and Ezran frowned at Callum. “Why didn’t you tell him about the dragon, Callum?”

Bait croaked. Callum sighed. “You saw him, Ez. He’s got enough to deal with right now with the Xadians here. I’ll just have to figure something out on my own.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Callum shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. No matter what happens, I’ll make sure that dragon has a fighting chance.”

[azure7539arts]

Regarding chapter 76

Warning: SPOILERS

I’ve been seeing a few opinions about this matter around, and while I’m not here to say that what happened in chapter 76 was not Wei WuXian’s fault (it is), I feel like there are some misinterpretations floating around somehow??? So I’m leaving my own take on things under the cut:

While Jin ZiXuan’s death was indeed Wei WuXian’s fault, I feel like the situation is too complex to be downplaying other elements and saying that he is entirely to blame here, even though he was only reacting instinctively to the situation. What else was he supposed to do anyway?

First of all, regarding Wei WuXian’s hatred toward Jin ZiXuan: there was no reason why Wei WuXian, as far as he could see at the time, should’ve forgiven Jin ZiXuan. This is the man who looked down on Jiang YanLi—arguably one of the people Wei WuXian loved the most—and basically implied he didn’t even want to go near/hear the mention of the Jiang family because of his engagement with her. That, apart from the already stuck-up first impression he left in Wei WuXian’s heart for years and years since they were nothing but children, is only the beginning to this justifiable resentment Wei WuXian had toward Jin ZiXuan. 

Wei WuXian realized later on, after the engagement had been broken off for some time, that his beloved shijie still harbored feelings for Jin ZiXuan, and that she must’ve been especially hurt to hear that Jin ZiXuan had denied her in such a way. Strike two. (I mean, who wouldn’t hate the idea that your soft, golden-hearted sister was pining for that stuck-up, good-for-nothing rich kid who wouldn’t even acknowledge her properly?)

Strike three, and the one that left the worst impression on Wei WuXian’s heart, the one that he could not possibly find it within himself to let go, was when Jin ZiXuan made Jiang YanLi cry. Jiang YanLi who had never shed tears in front of anyone, even her brothers (possibly especially them). And because of what? Because Jin ZiXuan, instead of properly looking into things and properly finding out what was going on, decided (out of his own bad impressions that he couldn’t let go about Jiang YanLi—bad impressions that were not a result of anything she had ever said or done, too, because they were only there out of his own selfishness and refusal to even acknowledge YanLi or try to understand her) that Jiang YanLi must be the bad person who was stealing other people’s hard work for her own gain. It wasn’t even difficult to figure out what was going on, which Wei WuXian did whilst beating the crap out of Jin ZiXuan, but Jin ZiXuan didn’t bother, much like how he had never bothered with Jiang YanLi. 

Strike four is Jin ZiXuan, for no apparent reason that Wei WuXian could personally see, suddenly started asking after Jiang YanLi—after outright saying she wasn’t worthy of him, after saying that she stole other people’s hard work to make herself seem better, after making her cry and breaking her heard again and again. Jin ZiXuan, being a proud person, never said it outright that he had wanted to talk her YanLi to apologize to her and perhaps get to know her better now. Wei WuXian, protective of his sister, only assumed—and not incorrectly, from everything he had personally witnessed so far—that Jin ZiXuan was doing this because his mother was making him to. And he had every right to want his sister to not have her heart broken again by this rich boy who thought very highly of himself.

Strike five (and this is a lot of strikes here, and if it were me and this was happening to the one other remaining out of the two still-alive people whom I loved the most, I would’ve totally hated Jin ZiXuan, too) happened on Mount Baifeng when Jin ZiXuan did not allow a clearly uncomfortable Jiang YanLi to leave even though she had already excused herself??? I mean, from the POV of a protective little brother who did not know Jin ZiXuan was nervous and only wanted to spend some more time with YanLi, this would be a very worrying and disconcerting move. They were in the middle of a forest with no one else (but for Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi who were hiding in a bush), and anything could happen. What if Jin ZiXuan was one of those people who resorted to violence/forcefully taking what he couldn’t have when he realized he couldn’t have them? This is a very big what-if that Wei WuXian could not risk because this was his sister here. Combined with the fact that people had been turning on him left and right now that the Sunshot Campaign was done and they didn’t have to side with him anymore, Wei WuXian’s outlook on life was not rose-tinted anymore, and he’d rather protect first before he could let something horribly go wrong. Which is not on Jin ZiXuan, but this general distrust of people didn’t help Jin ZiXuan’s case any.

So after these 5 strikes, things happen, Wei WuXian left YunMeng Jiang Sect, left the Jiang family, and suddenly, one day, he heard that his sister, once again, was getting married to Jin ZiXuan. He did not get to see Jin ZiXuan’s change in attitude, didn’t get to see how well Jin ZiXuan treated his sister now (instead of the contempt he had for her before), and he felt like Jin ZiXuan was having it too easy because he didn’t deserve YanLi at all. But since this was his sister—her wedding, which he didn’t even get to see or celebrate with her—he pushed it back and smiled for her as he said his congratulations when she came to show him her wedding robes especially. 

He never worked out his problems with Jin ZiXuan, never had the chance to nor had he ever been given one. 

Fast forward to chapter 76, in which Wei WuXian was happily on his way to his nephew’s full-month party, the first time he would officially get to see Jiang YanLi and Jiang Cheng in a very long time, and was suddenly ambushed, accused, attacked by Jin ZiXun over something he didn’t even know about. Jin ZiXun not only tried to trap and kill Wei WuXian, he also mocked Wei WuXian’s own little happiness that he would be able to see his family soon before crushing the present he had worked so hard on to give Jin Ling, the little nephew who his sister let him pick out a name for, too. 

This was not a good situation. Needless to say, he was extremely agitated for a good reason. And with the demonic cultivation already destroying him from the inside out, this was the recipe for a disaster, and Jin ZiXuan’s appearance only added to it. 

Jin ZiXuan meant well, we all know this, but first of all, he and Wei WuXian parted on bad terms. Second of all, he insisted that Wei WuXian backed down first to go back to Koi Tower for questioning, and this is not really okay. They had no proof he Wei WuXian did anything to anyone, but they’d still rather take him in for questioning first instead of assuming his innocence (not that Wei WuXian had, admittedly, been doing anything to help his reputation anyway). But why shouldn’t Jin ZiXun and his 300 some people back down first? And what would even happen should Wei WuXian had allowed them to take him back anyway? Jin GuangShan did not like Wei WuXian after he had pointed out that the man was only trying to take over the power vacuum left by the Wen family; he even wanted Wei WuXian to hand over the Stygian Tiger Seal, claiming that it was too dangerous for Wei WuXian to keep. Jin ZiXun was dead set on making sure he either made Wei WuXian admit to doing something he hadn’t done, or killed him for it. 

It didn’t help that when Wei WuXian asked if he had known about this all along after inviting Wei WuXian to Jin Ling’s party, Jin ZiXuan did not outright deny it. “Are you mad?” is not a no, and in his state, along with the five strikes of distrust mentioned above, Wei WuXian couldn’t have been in the mood to stand back and interpret it.  Jin ZiXuan tried, but did he outright deny it when Ji ZiXun said, “Whoever touches him gets nothing but a splash of black! ZiXuan, when you invited him, weren’t you worried that you, Sister-in-Law and A-Ling would receive an irremovable stain for the rest of your lives?!” No, he didn’t.

The situation was hostile, and Wei WuXian, whose survival instincts had always been high (even higher in those days because he was the one overseeing the protection of more than fifty other people who had been hounded and hunted for having the wrong family name), had to be hostile also, or he understood that he wouldn’t be making out of this alive. 

So, all in all, Jin ZiXuan’s blood is indeed on Wei WuXian’s hands because he lost control (which he didn’t even realize that he did, at any rate), but the situation was too complex to dump this entire thing on him and overlook how other people played their parts in aggravating the already tense political atmosphere that surrounded Wei WuXian’s decision to take 50 some refugees under his wings. People were being openly hostile toward him—they wanted to kill him if they could—and he responded in kind. How else could he have survived up to this point?

If people hadn’t assumed the worst of him because it was convenient—because he was practicing demonic arts, because they wanted to make him pay for tearing their schemes out right in the open, because they desired the power he had despite condemning him on principle based on his demonic cultivation alone—then none of this would’ve happened. 

[kimekaim]

From Anonymous, to You (Chapter 1)

"I have a delivery for Miss Julia Drossel! Is anyone home?" I persistently knocked on the door. Spring had truly started to show it's colors. Even though I was one of the busier gentlemen those days, I didn't quite mind waiting in front of a beautiful garden under an even more beautiful sky. The red-brick buildings that lined up along the clean stone road were a new and unusual sight for me, but I'd grown very fond of them. The joint melody produced by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of sparrows was suddenly disturbed by panicked footsteps originating from beyond the door. "Just a moment!", a raspy voice echoed from inside the house. As the footsteps got louder, I started hearing panting. "Seems they've realized I've been kept waiting long enough", I thought. The door opened to an expected sight. "I apologize for the wait. Please, do come inside!”, a woman gestured me to enter with a smile. I was not surprised at her appearance. Usually when you hear the word "Novel writer", a person sporting unkempt hair, and oversized clothes comes to mind. You imagine their burdened eyes having thick glasses over them and bags beneath them, practically begging to get some rest. A weak and exhausted appearance is not out of the picture either. This woman—my client, fulfilled all those generalizations. Even though I was the one who had waited, I felt bad for making this poor little creature run and sweat on her way to the door. I dropped my delivery at the entrance as she led the way and I followed. She took small, quick steps, like a child. I could see her messy auburn hair bouncing up and down as she hurriedly made her way to her sitting room. Judging from the crashing and rustling I heard as I was waiting outside, and the fact that her sitting room was oddly cleaner in contrast to the rest of the house, I deduced that she had quickly cleaned up her room while she kept me waiting outside. The room consisted of a dining table, and another, smaller table surrounded by some couches. Dozens of pages were littered all over the small table, accompanied by a typewriter. Miss Drossel extended her hand towards the nearest couch. "Please sit, I'll be right back with some tea", she said as she left the room, her voice having cleared up, her panting subsided. As I took the seat, my eyes scanned the room. The floorwork was intricate, the room was decorated with quite a few cabinets, each housing decorative utensils. The room contained a fireplace and multiple windows. Each window was covered with vines, and the room took on a green-and-yellow hue as the sunlight passed through the vines and illuminated the walls. My attention soon shifted to the object closest to me. The Underwood No. 4 desktop manual typewriter. It was manufactured in 1915 by the Underwood Typewriter company and quickly became the industry standard. It's been called the "Weapon of choice for working class women", though, it was also the preferred weapon of some men, including me. Next, my eyes fell on the unavoidable mess in front of me. Dozens of dozens of typed papers accompanied by even more crumpled up scraps lay on the table. I had started reading them before I even realized it. My curiosity was to be blamed, for the name Julia Drossel had been known to me for some time and enticed profound interest. She was a newly emerged author who had taken the literature world by storm. While other authors wrote stories with the themes of war, love, and honour, Miss Drossel wrote stories which were completely in the realm of fantasy, filled with fearsome, fire-breathing dragons, heroes, princesses, and monsters of every type. She had provided people with fresh, underused themes and she had recieved universal acclaim in return. That's not all of what contributed to her fame, she was apparently an eccentric figure, preferring to stay in seclusion instead of interacting with her fans. Moreover, she was awful when it came to meeting deadlines, and the general consensus was that she was abysmal at work management. Seeing her slovenly appearance and hearing her drop utensils in the kitchen when faced with the simple task of preparing tea did good to convince me of the truth of these rumors. Miss Drossel soon returned with two cups of tea, and let out a breath of relief as she finally sat down and got a chance to relax. "Forgive me for taking too long, writing has left me feeling more exhausted than usual these days", she remarked as she took a sip. "It's nothing. Thank you for the tea." "You are Mr. Eberfreya of the postal company, correct?" "Yes, madame. I take it that I'm to be tasked with assisting you in writing your novella?" Upon hearing those words, her expression drowned. I could empathize. I wondered if it was her frustration and lack of progress that drove her to request a typist. "Yes, that is correct. My work has slowed down to a halt since the past week, so I'm in rough waters right now." It was just as I had deduced. "I'm assuming that you need an extra pair of hands in order to be able to meet your deadline, ma'am?" I questioned. “I wish that were the case, but no, that’s not it. I…..need you to ghost-write for me”. That was strike two. My deductions proved correct twice in a row, but I still found it hard to believe what I was hearing. My deductions were but a hunch, a mere feeling that I followed. This was the last request I had expected to receive from an author of this caliber, who had proven their skill with the pen time and time again. I did a poor job at hiding my surprise. Miss Drossel must have expected a reaction. She gazed down at the floor in slight embarrassment upon witnessing my noticeably open jaw and widened eyes. “Ye—Yes of course! Please instruct me and I shall put your feelings into words.” The words came pouring out of my mouth, which was forming an awkward smile. I wanted to end this uncomfortable silence as soon as possible. The timid lady in front of me took a sip of tea and turned her head towards her window, sporting a dreaming expression as she gazed outside. The collective chirping of birds and clicking of insects coming from outside combined with the yellow and green hue of her meticulous sitting room created quite the memorable ambience as we sat there in complete silence. “My feelings....... I want to write a story that’s capable of pulling tears, touching hearts, being empathized with, and bringing forth a change of heart in every soul that reads it.” “Got it. You want to write a fantasy story with a greater focus on emotion rather than action this time.” “No.” She snapped back. She hunched forward, resting her elbows on the table. She made a stern face. This clumsy and petite young woman had an admirable seriousness when it came to her work. “I want to write a story that will leave its mark on the readers’ hearts for years to come. Such an effect can never be achieved through a fantasy story. People read those stories because the charisma of the heroic protagonist compels them to. They read it for the thrill they get when they see the twists and turns that the hero faces throughout his adventures. They read it because they crave action. Such stories carry no emotional weight. I have learned that because I have failed to achieve that effect.” And I agreed. But what was she going towards here? “This time…. I want to write a story that embraces realism. I cannot reach the hearts of my readers through the charming princes I write, or the shining knights I conjure. If I hope to capture their hearts, I must write stories that relate to them. I must create characters that they can empathize with.” Miss Drossel sat back on her couch, and continued, “Empathy……Empathy is what I want to write about. Do you know what the meaning of empathy is, Eberfreya?” “I think…. Empathy is when you acknowledge the pain that others are going through”, I answered. Pardon me for not being the most well-spoken person in the room. “Correct, but that’s not all there is to it. A wise man once said, ‘Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself.’ The word empathy not only refers to acknowledging the pain of others, but also putting yourself in their shoes. You try to imagine yourself as that person, going through the same pain”. “In other words, Eberfreya. Empathy is the mother of understanding. And understanding breeds kindness. What do you do when you see a weak-looking cat outside your house?” I went into deep thought. What would I do if faced with such a situation? I would obviously be annoyed if I saw a malnourished feline waiting for me at the door. What was I supposed to do? Upon seeing me perplexed at this simple question, Miss Drossel opened her mouth to reveal the answer. I could spot some concern on her face. “Feed it, perhaps?” I quickly spoke. I had never fed a cat before, nor had I even had the notion of doing so. Thinking of cats and what to do with them, I was reminded of my boss. An obvious cat enthusiast, he would order separate milk bottles daily, reserved solely for the neighborhood cats. He had made it so that the company employees and the cats shared the same lunch break. Everyday at 2pm, while we ate our lunches inside, he would step outside and enjoy his time with the cats as they feasted. Remembering him was what enabled me to finally answer the Miss’ question. “E-Exactly! You would feed the cat because you’d deduce from it’s thin stature that it’s probably not been getting enough food. That is empathy. You imagine yourself as the cat, and you think about what you want if you were starving like that cat. That allows you to gain an understanding of that cat’s situation. That in turn, gives way to kindness on your part.” The lady conversing with me was making a dumbfounded expression. Perhaps she expected me to be educated in this matter. I was quite the opposite. “I...I see” My face was like that of a toddler trying to understand a difficult concept. Empathy led to understanding, which made acts of kindness inevitable. I need just imagine myself as another being, another soul, and I would become capable of kindness. That was all I understood from this schooling I had just received. Perhaps being kind was not the arduous task I thought it was. “I have written my fair share of fantasy. My readers will never truly empathize with characters which do not trudge paths which are similar to their own. My readers must have characters which are comparable to themselves. My characters must be human, like my readers. My story must be realistic enough that one may even be forgiven for mistaking it for non-fiction.” I had already figured out what she was trying to say. People who will be flipping through the pages of Miss Drossel’s next work would be anticipating excitement and action, yet all they will receive will be constant, merciless pulls on the strings of their hearts. Miss Drossel desired to put something new in store for her loyal fans this time.

After taking her last sip of tea, Miss Drossel decided to the beat around the bush no longer.

“Eberfreya, You are to assist me in creating a modern spectacle. This year, the imagination of the common man shall not be dominated by archaic tales and folklore, as it has been for so long, rather, we shall breathe new life into the world of words and expose the literary masses to new and foreign wonders.” “Well then, madame”, I spoke as I removed my leather gloves. “May we shake on it for good fortune in our upcoming endeavor?” Perhaps pleased with my quick uptake on the task at hand, the Miss responded with a smile as we both reached forward. Our hands met in agreement above the typewriter and hundreds of blank papers waiting to be filled, two weapons powerful enough to bring about a cultural revolution. Two stories interwined Prologues unknown, Epilogues unknown Their past was nothing but a disheveled thread of fate Will it unravel, will it become known?

[tuwam]

comfort.

‘are you okay hanna?’ jamie asks, with snickers that she can’t keep in from across the table. “no.” and as she says it, hanna’s feels another itch at her skin, causing her head to fall promptly back on the desk.

[ the soulmate au where once you meet your soulmate, it’s physically uncomfortable to be apart from them for too long. ft. minna @rosaeau​ ]

rewind to a few months ago.

hanna didn’t need a damn tutor. she was a good student, no matter what her english professor said. she mentions that she has dreams of entering the new york fashion scene and her father jumps at the chance to flaunt his money.

“it’s a bad idea pop.” they’re at the kitchen table when he suggests the idea, his ridiculous money themed apron on while his mother makes sure he doesn’t burn another pancake that he tries to flip. hanna’s father is - a joke. to her and her mother. a joke that her mother can’t seem to get enough of and while he almost lands the pancake on her face both of them are laughing. hanna for a few seconds before she returns to her previous statement. “i don’t need a tutor.”

while he looks like he might cave, her mother is the one to grab the skillet handle and fix hanna with a look. her dad’s easy to persuade, her mother, not so much. for the life of her, hanna sits there and tries to figure out how the two of them can possibly match. her father, gambling addict, tycoon owner whose about as silly as they come when he steps out of his world with flashing lights. her mother, stubborn, hard-working and caring less about money unless it’s to keep her going, keep her free. her mother’s stubborn but her father’s persistent. 

she watches them wrestle for the skillet before her mother’s expertly flipping one. naturally, it’s the one thing she doesn’t get about soulmates. she’s heard so much about it, and is told she’s lucky to be able to see it up close. it’s unpredictable and apparently the talk of the world.

soulmates. not in the way people write them in stories, dreams them up when they talk about how they wish romance to be. actual soulmates, destined to be by something that humans can’t quite comprehend. because each story is different, all everyone knows is once you know you know. by something less cheesy than a spark in a kiss or a tug on the heart. something physical, almost biological.

hanna doesn’t know the details, she just knows her parents had that experience and now they’re never apart. it’s cute, but she’s trying to win a case here, so she’s boring holes into her father’s resolve.

‘you’re not paying attention in classes hanna.’ “noted. still don’t need a tutor.” ‘you don’t care about anything that’s not fashion hanna.’ “noted. but i don’t need a tutor.”

‘at least try it out seol.’ a tough blow. a low blow. hanna regards her father with a glare before she’s grabbing her things to head to her first class. 

hurray for econ.

‘he used your name?’ hanna’s only solace from these troubles are jamie. jamie who is greeting her outside of class with a chocolate mocha and hanna could kiss her. could, but she’s too busy sipping at the drink and relishing it all. the joy and wonders of a mocha on a hot day.  “he knows I won’t say no.” the decision to go by hanna came from the time spent with her mother, just a little joke about the flowers she’d put on her designs when she was younger. she’s far past the flower-dazzle stage but the name stuck.  ‘okay but, you don’t study for english, they’re not wrong.’ “whose side are you even on these days, the disrespect.” ‘just try it out, it might be good? if not i’ll learn it just to tutor you.’ “your lover boy might be mad but just to humor myself, i will.”

jamie makes a motion, maybe to fight the lover boy comment but hanna is too busy dashing up the library stairs.

the thing is, she knows she’s not paying enough attention to her english class. simply because when she’d expressed her interest in the new york market, she meant learning a bit for her visit there. learning the essentials and not the fundamentals of the language. of course her father is who he is, a renown businessman and if there was one thing he drove home it was that she should never half-ass anything. family drawings in elementary school - have hers at the top. golf carts races with her family - first place. if she wanted to be in fashion, she had to conquer. she had to explain to him why couture houses just - wasn’t a possibility in this day and age.

the rest was very much doable. her competitive streak comes from him no doubt. but, she wasn’t to blame if she just wasn’t that into her english class as she was her other classes. the business classes were a necessity and well the fashion classes were just that. long before she realized she was failing even vocabulary quizzes because of lack of studying, and they were so far into the grammar components she couldn’t catch up.

it was frustrating but she’d be damned if she let anyone else know that.

aside from jamie hanna had accumulated something of a reputation on their campus. other than the reputation that came with her father’s empire, she was simply known for being a socialite. being at parties but never interacting with people, just shining in diamonds she just had to bat her lashes to get. for that, hanna just liked to try new designs around the masses, she didn’t even enjoy the parties, but the image must be maintained for the goal ahead. really, most of her time is spent with jamie. when people sit and gossip to one another, whether about her or the newest soulmate phenomenon, she’s never a part of it.

only now she hears the giggling behind her when jamie finds a spot for them to set up shop. hanna’s econ books thrown around while jamie tosses her english book atop them all.

'apparently, sam’s friends. joon and ahyeon?’ hanna makes a hum that she’s listening, though her eyes show she’s contemplating opening this damned book. ‘they’re soulmates and he’s having a hard time stopping them from killing each other.’ “huh?” when she does look up jamie is engrossed in her phone, as usual, and hanna gets revenge by dropping her huge ethics book on top of her pile. jamie’s jump in her seat and scandalized look is just the reaction she’d expected. ‘he won’t say rather- he says he doesn’t know why. they’re antsier than usual.’ “makes you wonder if it’s all really a good thing? or if the match up is legit.”

‘well, it worked for your parents.’ 

another hum.

“i suppose.”

hanna just doesn’t enjoy the thought of having no control, can’t really fathom how her mother handled it. but it’s not something she needs to think about - and it’s joon and ahyeon’s problem not her own. she has english to pretend to study so that jamie will give her sketchbook back.

if there’s one thing hanna loves more than anything (and jamie) it’s being right.

‘it could’ve have been all bad.’ see it’s been a week and some days since her father committed to getting her tutors. she’s had to try a tutor each day and hanna’s damn near ready to rip her hair out.

it’s been, a wild few days. and jamie’s expression shows she’s enjoying the insufferable stories more than she should. if it weren’t for the vanilla bean that’s before her, hanna might actually forego the entire story. but she’d been right, this was a bad idea.

day one.

hanna’s on-time. tired from studying all night for her art history class, fingers patched from an accident with her sewing machine. granted, she wasn’t in the best mood from the beginning. she’s on-time though, her books and pencil case laid out neatly on the cafe table. a cafe table of all places.

he comes, and it’s a guy because he’s announcing his presence before he even sits down. there’s nothing really wrong with him, he’s a little loud, a few minutes late but hanna’s always a little too punctual so it’s understandable. what she remembers is that he dressed nice and she’s sure she has a business class with him.

'okay let’s get right to it shall we?’ he’s the asshat who talks too much because he wants everyone to know that he knows too much and wants too much. in short, greedy. ‘let’s test your knowledge of english first alright?’ his name is minhyun and hanna had never wanted a death note faster in her twenty two years of living.

because the test was the problem. not his perfectly combed up hair, or his perfect teeth, or the tailored suit he always fucking wears to class because he has to be that business major. hell his accent wasn’t even the problem. it was the test - with questions specifically tailored to her understanding of business and her father. as well as a reading comprehension that was simply a list of his achievements. the nerve.

“do you just want to cut a deal with my dad?” ‘what? no - what?’ his english was surprisingly good here. ‘however, if it were possible, could you slide him the resume?’ when her coffee arrived she was sure to pour it all over that damned exam and leave.

( jamie promptly laughed at this one because ‘hanna you didn’t’ and hanna took one more sip before saying ‘yes i did’. )

day two.

they meet in the student courtyard, hanna taking the time to attempt to sunbathe and lower her blood pressure. it as a nice day which meant crop tops and athletic leggings, seeing as she’d just come from a run. something to clear her mind before this english tutoring completely consumed her. hopefully the heat would do it first.

here’s the thing. hanna works out, has to work out if maybe one day she has to model her pieces for someone. technically she’s always modeling her pieces, plus her mother is a workout buff so she’s always at the gym. her figure is exceptional though it’s hidden behind her fashion.

so, she’s not confused when she feels eyes on her. they’re college students but apparently some of the male students are as shameless as ever. no one could be as shameless as minhyun so she’s ready to give a proper scolding, when she recognizes the face.

well not at first. but she should’ve.

“unless you plan on never having kids, i’d look away.” a cough and the male standing above her is tumbling apologies. ‘i’m your tutor, seolhyun-ssi.’ which is weird because few people call her by her full name. hanna is curling her legs under her before gesturing out for him because what. the. fuck?

the test was fine. the test was actually alright, aside from the outdated questions that she’s sure she’s seen somewhere before. no the test wasn’t the problem, the fact that they were outdoors wasn’t, and certainly not that he called her by her name. the problem was that he couldn’t keep his eyes off her while she took the test, or while she spoke. it’s one look, one particular look before hanna remembers.

“don’t you work for my father?” ( it’s at this point in the story that jamie yells out a ‘nooooo’ ) ‘ah, so you remember me?’ she remembers him, remembers his long-standing crush on her and him bothering her each time she went to visit one of the hotels. it was creepy. this was creepier. “uh-huh. two minutes before I call my father’s guards.” he was off like a light.

hanna was exasperated.

the next one, a girl her age who apparently was korean-american. a girl who spent half the time just swapping instagram feeds and asking for pictures and tours of hanna’s closet. it hit a limit when hanna caught her taking pictures of her designs. she’d almost broken her phone - instead she factory reset it. she’d accepted the praise her mother had given her and the high five jamie had given her when she heard.

the one after that - an older woman because yes that was the problem age. an older woman who aside from being entirely too punctual was going on and on about the history of english and it’s arrival into korea. then she proceeded to discuss why english was important and should be studied before she addressed that hanna was not studying english and was studying fashion and why that was bad. yeah, when that tirade started, hanna just up and left.

It doesn’t help that the one for the next day had ended up rescheduling and hanna – didn’t have it in her to accept nor decline, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with another joke.

she was tired of playing tutor roulette.

‘just drop english.’ Is jamie’s final answer after hanna’s given her the full rundown of her week, head lowered until her forehead’s almost touching the top of her drink. “my father wouldn’t let me dare.” It’s her ego too, her ego that won’t let her just give up on it and while Jamie knows, she’d rather hanna sit in her own stubbornness than tell her about it. she does however, offer a comforting hand to ruffle hanna’s hair like she always does giving hanna time to jolt up from her miserable position and fix her hair with a pout.

‘try this last one out, if they’re that bad than I promise I’ll save you from your misery and tutor you myself.’ “deal.”

they meet in the library. jamie’s been a dear and promised hanna another refill of the vanilla bean she’d gratefully placed on the table, as long as she clears this session. clear meaning she doesn’t leave early though hanna is looking at the clock for the minute reason she needs to book it out. jamie is sitting a table away and watching intently and hanna, hanna is sitting rather miserably, chin on the table, eyes on her watch, and fingers playing with the drink that’s currently keeping her alive.

please be late please be late please be late.

‘kim seolhyun?’ she looks up, dreading the sense of déjà vu that’s about to come over her because what. she notices a few things, he’s very tall, very on-time, and very unlike the image she’s been ready to torment her. he’s in a button-up and he’s already sitting across from her as he starts to pull things out his bag. ‘I’m bang minsoo your tutor.’ he’s tall, tall to the point where if she were standing she’d still have to view him from this angle. well she is watching him from a weird angle and he’s still pulling things out his bag. It’s a normal bag too, his clothes, normal too. he’s – normal. aside from exceptionally soft looking hair but who cares about that.

“you’re on time.” ‘I am.’ “you’re dressed normal.” ‘as are most college students.’ it’s then that she realizes he’s all about finished taking out all of his things, now scattered neatly across the table and she’s aware of the things she doesn’t have spread out. ‘now are you ready?’ “for what?”

‘I’ve reviewed your class syllabus and I’m planning on at least getting you prepared for your coming quiz, then we can start with fundamentals and such.’ he’s flipping through papers, books and hanna’s suddenly sitting a lot straighter than before. she also doesn’t take her eyes off how concentrated he seems to be. concentrated but – calm. It’s strange. ‘seolhyun-ssi?’ “huh?” she takes her eyes off Jamie, who’s busy throwing signals from behind his ear. questions probably but hanna can’t quite make them out because her tutor – minsoo is looking dead at her. ‘are you ready to begin?’ he doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that she has no paper as he’s already slid his materials over to her. he’s just waiting. “hanna.” ‘pardon?’ “hanna, I go by hanna.” ‘alright then hanna, lets begin.’ “yeah sure.”

‘that just about does it. review these concepts tonight and your oral exam should go fine. review some right after I leave though.’ “you’re leaving?” hanna’s almost embarrassed at the words, because they come out so easily and she’s still looking at the words he’s underlining when she says it. ‘your session’s up, and - I do have class.’ she’s even more embarrassed to say she’s having a good time because god her father won’t let her live it down. “okay, thank you. next week we’re meeting here right?” ‘ideally it would depend on if you pass tomorrow but yes here is fine.’

she understood concepts that she’d normally drown her teacher out. minsoo was patient and well he wasn’t speaking on overwhelming amount of english so she could follow. It’s probably why she’d been able to follow along, and probably why she didn’t notice the time pass, she does notice minsoo getting up – probably because it’s so abrupt and she’s sorting through her thoughts, but it makes her shift in her seat. even more so when jamie bounds over and fixes her with a stare – one she can’t quite read. hanna shifts even more, a strange shudder taking over as she immediately grabs for her drink.

‘okay so?’ “well – I didn’t throw my drink on him.” ‘I noticed.’

“okay he wasn’t too bad, I still want my drink.” ‘did you mean he wasn’t bad looking?’ “absolutely not, lead me to overpriced coffee!”

and if hanna sticks closer to Jamie during the walk there, neither of them complain.

of course she has to tell her father to stop looking for another tutor. It’s at the end of the next day, after studying thoroughly and doing not so bad on her oral exam the morning after their tutor session. he’s in the study, normally where he doesn’t like being bothered, but there’s her mom, lounging on the chair while he flits back and forth between bank books and the laptop. how they spend so much time together is beyond her. she pops in and eyes are on her.

“hey, just wanted to say I’ll be keeping this tutor.” ‘he’s cute isn’t he?’ is the first thing her mother says and hanna quite literally falls from where she’d been planning to stick her head in and right out. “shameless.” ‘didn’t hear a no.’

‘that’s great dear, it was getting hard to not do a full screening on the next one and scare them away.’ “yeah yeah thanks.” hanna’s composing herself, rubbing at her shoulders to relieve her goosebumps. her mother catches this immediately and looks up from her book, eyes calculating. ‘are you cold hun?’ her father looks up, more concern in his eyes than anything. the drama queen. “yeah, do you guys have the air on?” they share a look – the strange telepathy that they always do. ‘no – but darling you’re in a long-sleeved shirt.’ “I could be getting sick. I’ll take something.”

as it turns out, she’s not getting sick. that was evident after the hoard of medication she’d taken and the lack of actual flu or cold symptoms. couldn’t be allergies as hanna has none, and there’s no bug going around school.

she just feels.

antsy.

she keeps shivering whether she’s in her clothes or not, itching and shaking even under cold water.

the morning after the conversation with her parents she’d bundled up fiercely the next day, making sure she would sweat out whatever cold would hit her. when it seemed like the fabric of her clothes was just making things worse, she opted for shorter sleeves and lighter, softer clothing. something to take away the itch that’s making her body shake.

‘maybe you’re allergic to something.’ Is jamie’s rationing. “my allergies would’ve been shown up.” is hanna’s answer.

she considers her diet, though she’s relatively a healthy person, she makes a log of what she could’ve eaten to cause it. but again, she has no food allergies either, she’s relatively healthy and it doesn’t feel like a food issue. even if her stomach does start to twist and turn now and then, it’s not the sick feeling from eating something bad – and hanna would know she’s had food poisoning.

she gets chills, has goosebumps she can’t really see. Her stomach twists no matter how much ginger tea she drinks and she’s at the point of wanting to jump out her own skin. It’s led to her being quite irritable too. rolling her eyes when her teacher asks her a question she knows hanna doesn’t know the answer to, snapping at someone near her parking space on her way to class.

‘could be your period babe.’ “my period was two weeks ago.”

and it’s not that either. It’s not the emotion that double over before her period, it’s not the stabs in her stomach that start coming early, or the cravings she’ll likely have. It’s none of that and this is the first time hanna’s wished that it was, at least then she would know what to do. because right now she wants to shed her own skin, feels like she’s growing in and out of it at the same time. feels like she’s itching something but never quite scratching it, like she needs something soothing but the burn isn’t painful it’s just – uncomfortable.

“do I need to see a doctor?” it’s a week into this when she mentions it to her parents. a week of her arriving irritable to school, practically clinging to jamie and saying nothing but groaning each time she feels a pull she doesn’t understand. like her skin was rubber and something was trying to call her back, pulling her thin but not ripping just – stretching. hanna was in agony and her mother now sat on the edge of the couch, running her hand through her hair while her father observed her. she’d told them her symptoms but she’s all but realized how crazy she must sound. ‘describe it again seol.’ hanna groans into the pillow but her mother’s touch is – distracting, helps her focus. “feels like I’m being tugged in several directions, everything is subtle but at the same time it’s overwhelming. It’s like if someone pressed needles against you but just the tip so you didn’t feel the pain. It’s terrible.” If anything, she would get bonus points in creative writing for her descriptions. If her teacher could see her now. Hanna wishes no one could see her, wishes she could all but melt into the couch. ‘do you know when it started?’ “I don’t know last week sometime?”

all these questions and all hanna wants to do is bury further away from it all. 

‘we’ll get you to a doctor this afternoon, are you still going to class?’ she wants to say no, wants to stay right where she is until later this afternoon, instead she drags herself up and to her room. If she were more attentive, she might’ve noticed the look her parents share as she heads to get ready.

jamie is ready with a chamomile tea, a hint of ginger and a hug for Hanna when she walks out of her class. she makes no comment on how hanna left early and just smothers her in a hug, a hug that hanna can’t be bothered to wiggle out of. she focuses on the fact that it’s jamie and not that her body feels like it wants to be somewhere else but can’t figure itself out. instead they head to the library, jamie sending worried glances each time hanna shakes her shoulders or holds her head.

“please not headaches.” she doesn’t have time to think because as the headache grows there’s a figure before them both. it’s of course her tutor, though it was almost hard to tell because of the mask he’s sporting. ‘sorry, I’m a bit late.’ truthfully hanna hadn’t noticed. she’s more concerned at how he sounds as bad as she feels. ‘ready to start?’ “are you feeling okay?” is the first thing hanna asks, jamie having left her side so they can start. ‘nothing too bad, wore a mask in case it’s contagious but I don’t think so.’ “i’d take anything over whatever is hitting me right now.” she swears she gets a smile at the comment, but they’re launching into problems right away.

for the past week, the discomfort that hanna’s felt has been relentless. it started in small bursts but began to last the entire day, hence why she’d begged her parents to see a doctor today. as minsoo starts to finish reading her homework for the week, she’s suddenly aware that she’s feeling better. much better. his mask is off too. she’s grateful because truthfully, hanna didn’t think she could get through this session with that same pain that’s been plaguing her. she’s also relieved that he seems to be feeling better. she has half a mind to text her parents that all are good but he’s getting up, things packed already and her lips move with an urgency new to her.

“hey, can I get your number, in case I feel under the weather again and actually can’t show up?” minsoo’s giving it though, without question or complaint and hanna’s waving the phone as she waves him off. ‘you look like you’re feeling better.’ “thank god, or he might’ve asked for different pupil.” ‘mmmmm, I doubt that.’

hanna shrugs though, making sure to send a quick message to him.

to: 💥 minsoo [ hanna! ✌️ ] from: 💥 minsoo [ 👌 ]

when she arrives home, her mother is questioning her instantly.

“i just feel better? not sure, but my tutor session went well!” just to bring the mood up because she can see her parents are visibly concerned. ‘but hanna, you were in pretty bad shape.’ “maybe I just needed to flush out a bad bug, I feel fine!”

hanna’s in the same predicament, though it feels worse than before. the symptoms double over within half the time from before and she’s cuddled under her covers trying every possible position to ease the discomfort.

‘hanna I’m really worried.’ jamie’s voice rings on the other end of the line. “don’t worry, I really think it needs to run it’s course.” whatever it is.

whe doesn’t miss tutoring this week, though she can tell from minsoo’s hair, a little shaggy on the edges, that he’s dealing with his own things too. things that seem to disappear during their session, a reason why she makes it a goal to not miss them, no matter how bad she feels. It’s not exactly pain anyway, it’s just discomfort.

body-shaking discomfort.

she continues her routine. suffering for a week but managing to make her tutoring sessions just because she can. and they always make her feel better in that moment, a reason why she thinks it might just be stress.

two more weeks pass and hanna’s sure it’s not just a bad bug. because the intervals are shorter where she feels discomfort. It goes from a few days to one day to a few hours. it gets bad that she’s in her bed staring at her phone.

to: 💥 minsoo [ hey, it’s hanna! I might not make our session tomorrow, I’m really not feeling well. 😷😷😷😷 ] from:💥 minsoo [ I hope I didn’t give you what I caught, it’s not exactly fun ] to: 💥 minsoo [ don’t think what I have is contagious ] from:💥 minsoo [ how so? ]

and hanna hadn’t planned on discussing this, talking past her update but, she indulges.

to: 💥 minsoo [ feels like my insides being stretched ] from: 💥 minsoo [ ouch, in every direction and nowhere at all ] to: 💥 minsoo [ YES ] from: 💥 minsoo [ sorry I might’ve given it to you ] to: 💥 minsoo [ hm, I likely gave it to you ] from: 💥 minsoo [ either way, I hope you feel better ] to: 💥 minsoo [ if you find any remedies tell me!!!!! ] from: 💥  [ sure thing. ]

and for good measure.

to: 💥 minsoo [ goodnight! ]

she feels worse after missing their session. much worse. to the point where she’s pacing around her room, stepping in place, doing anything to try and ease her body and it’s confusion. it’s restless and it’s making hanna’s head spin. when her parents ask she just says she doesn’t know. when she asks the doctors they just say they don’t know.

because yeah that gives her hope.

“seriously I have no idea what it is.” hanna’s panting now, having resorted to running to let off some steam. she’s on the phone with minsoo, who despite his own afflictions has been a good comfort for her during it all. ‘me neither, needless to say, I keep worrying my sister.’ “my parents are surprisingly calm, though I know they’re worried.” they haven’t kept off her case, in a good way though. They check up on her and give her food without her needing to ask, she’s just been unable to feel reprieve from anything really. minsoo had laughed when she told him how her father hovered by the door ready to get her anything. “I’ll have fun trying to explain this sick note to my professors.” not that she minds, maybe she needed the break. running like this, and watching minsoo’s face change as he talks, as she cools down and listens, isn’t too bad.

‘hanna.’ “hm?” ‘you’ve been walking a while where are you?’ “uhm, don’t know. Why?” ‘it looks familiar…’ for a second it looks like he’s leaning into the screen and then there’s a flurry of movement, then laughter. ‘you’re nearing my neighborhood, how’d you manage that?’ “who knows. didn’t realize I was walking that far.” ‘I’ll come down.’ before she can say that he doesn’t have to, or that he’s not feeling well, she sees his figure approaching from the end of the street. funny enough, he looks like he ran. “you didn’t run here did you….” ‘I needed the exercise. I feel better already.’ and though he’s joking, catching his breath hanna’s been feeling immensely better since a little after her run. enough that she can smile fully at him, even laugh at his words.

he walks with her for the rest of her cool down. a cool down that she feels like she doesn’t even need because everything’s settled right now. It could be, and hanna considers it, the calm of the night, maybe she needed a good run. maybe she needed a change in environment, in pace. whatever it is, it’s working. has her joking with minsoo and feeling like herself, feeling that she’s missed their sessions all too much.

‘is that true?’ she doesn’t realize she’s spoken the words until she meets minsoo’s eyes on her. and she’s suddenly very aware of how close they’re walking together. hanna doesn’t move though, instead she just laughs and averts her eyes. “I miss them, they were the highlight of my week.” which isn’t a lie, even if she tries to put sarcasm in her tone. really, english tutoring as the highlight of her week? it was true whether she denied it or not. she suddenly didn’t mind if he knew or not. ‘it’s definitely been the best part of my few weeks.’

they walk a bit more, night closes in a bit more and they lose track of time. to where her father’s messaging her and hanna almost dreads having to go back, having to end the peace. but she’s feeling better so there’s a plus.

“I have to head home before my father sends a search party.” and – as if he knows. as if her eyes reveal everything without knowing, minsoo’s speaking up as she turns. ‘I’ll walk you.’ she doesn’t object. not when he sticks just as close, not when they pass the gates to her compound and he’s at the door, past the door and they’re laughing in the study.

‘you’re feeling better.’ Is what her mother says first. they’re both at the door, her father’s arm wrapped snug around his mother’s waist, his eyes on minsoo. “hey, sorry i’m late. i ran into minsoo? guess we both just needed a run.” ‘both? minsoo I wasn’t aware you weren’t feeling well either.’ ‘I’m fine ma’am, i was worried I’d given whatever I had to hanna but I’m glad that’s not the case.’ ‘i’m glad too. hanna do try to answer your phone more often, your father gets restless.’ “please, he’d be up the roof if it was you.” to which hanna’s father, the joke of her life, quite literally picks her mother up bridal style as he announces his love. hanna notices minsoo’s confusion and realizes she’s never told him, though she’s never in a position to tell anyone. “my parents are a soulmate match. for them they can’t spend too much time apart of they get restless, it’s wild. you’d think my mother was going through menopause.” ‘hanna!’ though her mother’s words have no bite while she’s literally being hugged tight by her husband, even after he’s set her back on her feet. ‘is it painful?’ are minsoo’s first words. unsurprising because most people have tons of questions when they hear about it. minsoo never seemed the curious type though, but hanna leans back and watches as her parents perk up at the opportunity to talk about their love.

‘at first it was unbearable? because we didn’t know what was going on or how to tell the cause. with ours it’s hard to tell but overtime the pull quite literally leads you to them because you’re in agony.’ ‘the pull?’ minsoo looks thoroughly interested and hanna – for whatever, maybe the aftereffects of this nonexistent flu, finds it cute. ‘hard to describe, the body literally cannot stand the distance for too long. after a while it becomes easier to withstand distance, the discomfort is there but not as strong the more time we spend together afterwards, and the more we deal with it. hanna’s father is just a baby. Hanna takes after him I suppose, she’s been moping about this house you’d think she was having period pains.’ “mom!” minsoo, the traitor, finds it his job to laugh and hanna quite literally thinks about knocking him out the couch. Until he smiles her way saying stupid things like: ‘glad you’re feeling better now.’

hanna’s floored because she’s got an urge in that moment. and it makes her want to shove everyone away, and yet, pull one person close.

abort mission.

she’s shooing everyone out, minsoo particularly.

‘he can’t go home by himself this late.’ “HUH?” the one time her father wants to be lenient about a boy.

the one time.

‘it’s fine I can call a taxi.’ ‘nonsense, we have a guest room down here.’

after much preparation hanna’s closing the door after bidding him a good night and a small apology. she sees her parents from atop the stairs and marches past them and their smug grins to her room.

‘he’s what?’ “downstairs in the guest room.” ‘wow, third base already.’ “like you haven’t slept over at sam’s.” ‘touche.’

just then hanna’s phone vibrates and she’s looking at the screen and nearly dropping her phone.

from: 💥 minsoo

“he’s texting me, jamie. jamie minsoo’s texting me why’s he texting me he’s downstairs what’s going on?” ‘well I suppose we won’t know the answer to that unless you read it and text back now would we?’

touche.

from: 💥 minsoo [ thanks for letting me spend the night. forgot to say so earlier. ]

“why’s he thanking me, he should thank my parents.” ‘idiot – does he have your parents on speed dial, no he has your cute ass.’

to: 💥 minsoo [ it’s no problem! I hadn’t realized how late it was, hope you don’t mind. ] to: 💥 minsoo [ hope you’re not secretly a thief either. sorry about my lovey-dovey high school parents ]

From: 💥 minsoo [ don’t mind at all. It was nice of them. and they’re nice too, obviously very in love. i’ve seen soulmate pairs before but they’re – refreshing. ]

‘oho, soulmate talk.’ “I’m gonna hang up.” ‘fine, hang up and talk to your loverboy.’

hanna chokes.

to: 💥 minsoo [ are they? I thought they’d be a bit much. you never seemed like you’d be interested in that. from: 💥 minsoo [ soulmate lore and stuff? you never asked. ] to: 💥 minsoo [ i’m sorry among all the agony and english suffering I forgot to ask about soulmate lore with you. ] from: 💥 minsoo [ what do you think of it then? ]

In that moment, hanna has to take a break because a headache’s coming. She almost groans at the feeling and jamie picks up immediately.

‘I’m going to assume he didn’t say anything bad, you okay?’ “yeah I might turn in, not feeling good again.” ‘okay, call me if you need anything alright?’ “okay bye bye.” sealed with extra loud lip smacks and kiss noises because of course.

from: 💥 minsoo [ you okay? ] to: 💥 minsoo [ yeah, headache. maybe I’ve been up too long. ] from: 💥 minsoo [ not good, you should take a nap ] to: 💥 minsoo [ but! soulmate! lore! ] from: 💥 minsoo [ someone’s excited. ] to: 💥 minsoo [ I can talk all night about it, since I have first hand encounters ] from: 💥 minsoo [ I’ll be up all night, can’t seem to sleep ] to: 💥 minsoo [ I’ll be down in five ]

and for some reason he doesn’t protest. so hanna wraps herself in her blanket and slinks her way downstairs to the guest room, praying to the gods that her parents don’t wake up. or even if they do, they don’t ask.

they talk all night. hanna’s headache that was calling her to bed nowhere to be found. minsoo’s restlessness lulled into alertness and attention he gives her the entire night, both splayed over the living room couch. he tells her about his doubts and beliefs in the soulmate theory, his experiences both good and bad. he tells about couples he’s seen fail and couples he’s seen prosper, talks about how hopeful hanna’s parents can make people. hanna talks about her fears with it, her reservations and also her fascination when she looks at her parents. they talk and they talk until they can’t fight sleep and it’s the easiest sleep they’ve had in weeks, though neither admit. they just fall into one another.

that’s how hanna wakes up. with her head between her arms, placed firmly on the edge of the couch and minsoo’s chest directly in front of her. she doesn’t move though, relishing in the best sleep she’s had in weeks. in fact, it’s the sound coming from the kitchen that wakes her. it’s a glimpse of her father peeking over the couch and her making eye contact that has her shrieking and bounding for her room.

when she’s showered and changed and sent jamie a promise text to tell her everything, she joins her family. minsoo is up and looking so well-rested that he hasn’t quite fixed his hair yet. it’s cute ad insufferable, hanna wants to crawl back upstairs. but she quite literally feels her headache disappear when he waves a good morning and she waves back, turning to glare at her parents before they can say anything. of course, her mother isn’t phased.

‘you both slept well.’ “good morning and good bye mother.” ‘I made breakfast.’ “to go, I have class and minsoo has to get home.” ‘I’ll take---’ “I’ll drive him thank you father.”

hanna’s grabbing the keys, the kimbap and literally rushing minsoo out the door before her parents can trap them any further.

easily, thankfully, they fall into conversation as if they hadn’t fallen asleep earlier. hanna offers to drive minsoo to campus and the top-down on her car makes his hair more of a statement when they arrive. so much so that she’s laughing and he’s puzzled.

‘you’ve been laughing for fifteen minutes, earlier I was worried we’d crash.’ “yikes, your faith in my driving skills. here hold on.” without prompt, without warning really, hanna’s leaning over to fix the strands of hair that have gone wild. not like she couldn’t just tell him because now he’s this close and hanna thinks she can’t breathe but this is the easiest it’s been to breathe in weeks. and that’s scary. terrifying.

‘hanna!’ thank god for jamie. because hanna, jumps back and is hopping out the car to greet her friend. thank god for jamie but oh god jamie, jamie doesn’t spare one single glance moving from hanna to minsoo and her eyebrows doing that thing that makes hanna want to run. ‘thanks for the ride.’ Is all minsoo says, a smile on his face after he bows to jamie and waves himself off. hanna’s got about two seconds of leeway and she’s considering running, instead she calls after minsoo, practically bounds after him. “can I walk with you, I barely know your classes.” she half expects him to deny her, instead he’s nodding. and hanna for now will say it’s just to avoid getting grilled.

except that it becomes a routine. and hanna hadn’t planned that. hadn’t planned on getting used to the feeling of walking with minsoo to classes and him eventually walking her to hers. after one morning where he doesn’t and she does so bad on her english exam he’s waiting outside with vanilla bean and she’s forgetting all about it.

seriously what kind of warlock is he, hanna’s been trying to figure it out. she’s so caught off-guard that jamie’s managed to pull her out her daze with a fry to her face.

‘maybe you just like him.’ “pardon.” ‘you literally suffer when he’s not around, you like him.’ hanna takes a careful sip of her drink, letting jamie mull over her words. when she doesn’t, hanna swallow. “nah.”

jamie groans.

she does enjoy the company he brings though. the feeling of him walking beside her to class, to tutoring, even home that’s become more routine. it’s always the leaving part that hanna can’t quite get over, always makes her rub her hands together as if she’s collecting static, settling herself. she thinks nothing of it though, glad to be free of whatever plagued her in the earlier months.

except that the bug comes back.

at the worst of times in her opinion. it’s midterm season and while she’s enjoyed the help he’s given her, thoroughly enjoyed his presence around her, how they’ve started grabbing coffee together and even eating out when tutoring lasts too late, they need to study. hanna doesn’t want to disrupt minsoo’s study schedule and respects the request to take their tutoring out of midterm week. that also means, he’s busy studying that he’s not around to walk her to classes, and it’s not like hanna’s been dependent on it, that’ silly. but she feels it, feels it more apparent than she thought she would from the week before midterms start, into the beginning of the exam week.

‘maybe it’s because you guys just spend so much time together.’ Is jamie’s answer. Though hanna can tell jamie’s beginning to worry, about a lot really. hanna doesn’t get attachments like this, and the fact that it’s becoming so apparent and so troublesome that it’s affecting her environment. jamie’s worried but doesn’t want her worry to affect hanna. hanna appreciate it, so she wants to get to the bottom of this.

‘you could just miss him.’ is the solution her mother offers, still perched in the couch in the study, a book on soulmates in her hand. it’s plausible, even if it’s only been a few days since she’d seen him, it’s very plausible. hanna takes a look at the book in her mother’s hand and ignores how her stomach churns at the title. ignores what that might mean for her.

because to hanna that was dependence bordering on insanity. for her, for minsoo, whom she barely knew. sure she knew the little things, like his favorite color nowadays, how simple he liked his wardrobe, how tall she’d have to stand on the top of her toes to reach his height. how he likes his coffee and which classes he dreads and why, his little ticks when he doesn’t understand things and just how endearing it is that he can not understand things. the look on his face or the color on his face when she points out that she thinks it is endearing. she knows these little things, has saved them for the moments when she’s stuck in a long day and she knows they can still walk home together.

she knows that but it’s not enough to need. it shouldn’t be.

but hanna counts all that she knows, all she’s beginning to adore and she’s getting frightened.

scared as she is, she doesn’t get to hold it in for long. it’s the middle of midterm week and she’s sure she’s going to fail her english midterm tomorrow because she can’t fucking focus. for the life of her, her body itches and the covers aren’t helping but she’s wrapped in them anyway. she doesn’t want to call anyone, ask anyone, she just wants the feeling gone.

as if on cue her phone vibrates.

from: 💥minsoo [ you doing okay? ] to: 💥minsoo [ guess ] from: 💥minsoo [ exam stress? ] to: 💥minsoo [ nope, worse ] from: 💥minsoo [ penny for your thoughts ] to: 💥minsoo [ I’ll give you a million if you come by ] from: 💥minsoo [ on my way ]

and hanna doesn’t wait. she’s downstairs and meeting him outside the door.

they walk and they walk and they walk until they come across a playground. hanna on the swings and minsoo sitting quite literally in front of where she stops.

‘any reason you chose swings?’ “any reason you’re sitting there?”

touche.

she steps back, as far back as she can before the swing is pressed into her back and minsoo is a few feet in front of her. and she stays there, stays there and watches him. he sits absently, fingers idle in the woodchips, night just moving around him. around his shoulders, around his hands, his silhouette.

hanna looks for strings first.

she feels the first tug but sees none. it’s not like the swing is pressing into her back, it’s the opposite. something pulling. with the tug comes the itch, the shudder. and it’s not the cold. she sees no strings though, nothing buzzing around minsoo. but she sees him shudder, sees him look up instantly in her direction.

when their eyes meet hanna allows herself to sit and walk forward until her feet kick lightly against his own.

she moves back again, as far back as the swing will let her. and waits. without a word, waiting for something in the moonlight around him to shift. like how tides just follow the pull of the moon, she waits for it. then her skin starts to crawl and his eyes haven’t left hers, so she sits and moves forward again. this time his hand is on the swing when her feet kick at his. stopping, holding.

‘you’re a glutton for punishment.’ “I was testing my theory.” ‘which is?’

hanna bites at her lip. even the sting she feels couldn’t quite compare to the feeling, the calm that settles over her each time she swings back over to him.

“you know how – you can only go so far on the swing, until you’re yanked back.” ‘i’m aware.’ “that’s what it’s like with you. like pulling tight of a band until it’s released back.” ‘and it’s like it was never pulled in the first place.’ “right-!! you know?” ‘well since it’s a soulmate thing, the other person feels the same you know.’

hanna’s suddenly very shy and very grateful for how dark it is.

“so do you – how do you feel?” ‘how do you feel?’ “scared as hell. excited. better than I felt earlier.” ‘I’m about the same. not as scared, curious. willing.’

the last one has hanna’s head snapping up, minsoo who’d been looking elsewhere, maybe for a pull of the tides too, fixes his eyes back on her.

“willing to – what?” ‘well, I’m here.’ “you’re helpful.”

but hanna’s smiling as she says it. smiling and playing with the chips below her feet.

‘hey, fate picked me.’ “well - i’d pick you.”

oh boy is she glad it’s dark as hell outside.

“how long did you know, I can’t believe you two knew.” ‘i can’t believe you took so long to figure it out.’

hanna is, staring quite scandalized at her parents, while minsoo sits not bothered in the slightest, at the kitchen counter. they’d talked, but upon deciding that hanna does need to sleep to attempt to pass her exam, that she head home. minsoo of course had walked her, her parents had of course been up when they arrived.

‘admittedly your mother was in denial so you take after her.’ if it weren’t for the skillet she was focusing on, hanna was sure her father would have a spoon shaped mark on his face. “i wasn’t in denial.” minsoo makes something that sounds like a snort and hanna is betrayed. ‘jamie even asked me outside your class if i’d give you time to figure it out.’ “wow is this why sam’s friends were ready to kill each other, how long have you known.” ‘since the first night your parents let me stay here.’ “i am surrounded by traitors.” ‘i’m wondering if he should still tutor you.’

if she weren’t starving, hanna would’ve gone right to bed. but minsoo took the blanket and is offering a more comfortable spot curled up beside him. and pancakes. comfort and pancakes and minsoo seem like the better option. and when hanna’s close to falling asleep, head on his shoulder and stomach full, she thinks it might be the forever option.

fast forward to present day.

‘are you okay hanna?’ jamie asks, with snickers that she can’t keep in from across the table. “no.” and as she says it, hanna’s feels another itch at her skin, causing her head to fall promptly back on the desk. 

“a vacation with his sister, why.” ‘yes, the nerve of your boyfriend, spending time with his family.’ “he said he’d be back today.” ‘yes, he said sometime this afternoon, it’s one.’

hanna is close to drowning herself in this damn vanilla bean when she hears a chime, and already feels the ache start to subside. already feels a smile curling, though she’s a bit peeved.

“i’m the glutton for punishment.” ‘i missed you too.’ and she’s pouting, even when he hands her a souvenir, up until the kiss pressed to the top of her head. up until all of the ache disappears and she’s engulfed in arms for the remainder of their time at the cafe. engulfed in the very feeling that makes her feel like, the wait doesn’t hold a candle to the reward. and it never will.

[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 39: Blind Tiger

January melted into February. Or it would be more accurate to say melted and refroze as the snow turned to sleet and ice.

Every day seemed to make your stomach bigger, though women simpered about how tiny and cute your little baby bump was whenever you left this damn house.

But it was really starting to get in the way. Especially in the bedroom. No, Ramsay didn't say anything about it, and he never missed an opportunity to fuck you, but to you... it was just... awkward in a way. Having sex was becoming taxing, trying to find a position that wasn't uncomfortable.

But, your girls were back in the city. Ramsay seemed content. He hadn't even bitched about his boring desk job since finally returning to work. And he was no longer drowning in excessive bottles of liquor. He had cut back a lot. Ever since you killed the Targaryen. He still drank every day, just not as much. Theon Greyjoy had been spotted two days ago. However, there were only 5 short days until you found out what Baby B was. It scared you senseless. You were no closer in figuring out how to keep your husband safe.

Life at the safe house was boring. You spent half the day sleeping or reading. Charlotte came to stay with you a lot. It was nice to have another female to hang out with. You missed Liz and Kaden, but Liz was now too sick to leave her house.

She had called you the night before last and cried to you about how much pain she was in. How she regretted the idea of chemo. She should have just pushed for surgery. It hurt you to hear her so down and miserable. She was always so head strong and encouraging. You wished you knew what to do to help, anything to make her smile.

Your mother had called you a week ago, all in a dither that Eli was apparently getting married. Eli and Jeyne were going out there this weekend, so Mom and Dad could meet her. Eli had been very distant with you since that night at dinner. Not that you could blame him, but damn. You had just become cool with him again.

You had lunch a couple of times with Whit and Jared, when they didn't have to immediately get back home after their 'coffee bean' runs.

"Oh yeah, mom and dad are ectastic that we get to use our flight skills for more than just med evac. Dad said, coffee beans was a funny investment, but as long as it put money in our pockets and made us happy. Going to put Kasey in traveling cheer squad this summer. She will be so excited."

Well, at least your Sheep were prospering. Ramsay had set up the schemes to buy all the land you had wanted, and construction for new businesses were in the works. You had gotten in touch with the Martell's to grow on land your Sheep had set up, as well as building more secure labs, though marijuana was the best choice to go with, for you personally. At least it was naturally occurring. You didn't really want any part in synthetic shit, to which Ramsay begrudgingly obliged.

"What do you want to do for your boyfriend's birthday?" Ramsay asked, looking up from the laptop he had been absorbed in for the last two hours.

"What?" You asked, marking your place in the book you had been reading.

"Matt. His eighteenth birthday is tomorrow." Ramsay said, glancing at the sleet tinking on the windows.

"I dunno. I figured he and Ty would spend the day together. Thought maybe I would talk you into giving him a decent amount of money for him to blow on stupid shit." You shrugged, pulling your blanket up around you, trying to ignore the annoying urge to pee for the sixth time in the last hour and a half.

"Sure." Your husband replied, lighting a cigarette and going back to whatever it was he had been doing. Numbers by the sound of pen scratching on paper, furious muttering, and deep sighs. "It's fight night. Want to go? Thought I'd take you to dinner and then to the ring."

"Um... sure? I've never been." You shrugged, yawning and rubbing your belly.

You closed your eyes with a small smile, breathing slowly, and deeply when... it happened.

You gasped, threw your eyes open, and sat up straight.

Ramsay looked up, alarmed, half rising from his seat.

"I felt it! I felt the baby move!" You said excitedly, looking down at your belly.

"Sure it wasn't just some weird body function?" He asked, raising a brow and closing the computer.

"Positive." You said excitedly. You stared hard at your belly and gave another gasp after a few moments of silence, "yes! I can feel the baby. Oh my god."

Ramsay leaned back in his chair and watched you with a rather uncharacteristically warm expression.

You both simply stared at one another until finally Ramsay stood from his seat and gave a deep stretch like a cat.

"Were you ever good at math?" He asked, cracking his knuckles and frowning at his notebook.

"Well I can find x." You replied, knowing your answer wasn't good enough. "Why?"

"I'm missing something. A variable or... I don't know." He said slowly.

You said nothing. Finally he shook his head slightly, scratching his jaw and turning to you.

"Dinner?"

"Whatever. It's gotten to the point where as long as I eat it doesn't matter. Heartburn doesn't discriminate it seems, either. But I would really love bell peppers."

"You make my life so easy." He chuckled, walking down the hall.

You watched him leave with a grin.

"I suppose I can dress for comfort?" You called from the closet. You turned to look at Ramsay as he entered the room. His faded jeans and band shirt were enough of an answer.

"You're very fond of this old rag." You said, picking at his shirt as he pulled his leather jacket on.

He shrugged, "first concert. Met Alyn there, actually."

"Oh?" You said, pulling your hoodie on.

"Yeah. We were fourteen. Gave him a bloody nose in the mosh pit. Then I saved his life from some big dude after he got caught making out with the dudes drunk woman. Rolled one behind the venue, and the rest was history. He just kind of stuck around. Father always hated my Boys, so I kept them close. Anyways, burgers and shakes? We can buy your bell peppers on the way back home."

"Burgers and shakes sound wonderful. On one condition." You nodded, pulling your hood up and grabbing your wallet from your purse.

"What's that?" He asked, ushering you out of the house.

"The fries have to be perfect for the shakes."

"Shake fries. Maybe you could market that." He chuckled, helping you into the Jeep.

Ramsay had had the Jeep repainted, tagged, and replaced the vin number. Made you a bit sad, but, safety first, right? Right.

"So, what am I to expect?" You asked, finishing your shake.

"It'll be loud. But what's better than a few beers and watching people beat the shit out of each other? Wonder if anyone good is fighting tonight?" Ramsay said, dropping his cigarette butt out of the cracked window.

He shifted in his seat, pulling his gun and knife, sliding both under the seat. You watched him with a raised brow.

"They check at the door." He shrugged, opening his door.

You met Damon, Charlotte, Ben, and to your excitement, Kaden at the front gates.

The boy rushed you, hugging you tightly.

"Aunt (y/n)! Look!" Kaden practically shouted, pulling his cap off.

"Oh goodness. What happened to all your hair?" You asked, kneeling down and running your hand over his fuzz.

"I did it for mommy." He said, eyes bright.

You looked up at Ben who gave a half shrug and sad smile.

"Liz had a meltdown and said fuck it. Says she was gonna lose it all anyways, might as well get on with it." Ben said, hurt lacing his words.

"But can I tell you a secret?" Kaden said, motioning you closer.

"What's that, hon?" You asked quietly.

He leaned into you, "it will grow back. Just like mommy's."

You gave a small, watery laugh, realizing you were emotional, "yes. Yes it will."

"Come on son, let's get out of the cold." Ben said, as Kaden put his hat back on.

You watched the boy with a fond smile, as Ramsay laced his fingers in yours and tugged you along.

Ramsay led you to a row of seats, close to the ring. Maybe too close for your liking.

"Want something to eat or drink before I send Dame off?" Charlotte asked, sitting behind you.

"I'd love a sprite or something." You replied, glancing back at her.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." She replied.

You watched Ramsay's profile, but he seemed unemotional as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Someone fell into the seat beside you. You turned quickly to see Tyene. She smiled brightly at you as Matt sat on her other side.

You hugged her warmly, "hey."

"Hey yourself. I was excited to hear you were coming. We miss you." Tyene said, looking past you to glare at your husband.

"I miss you all. But, gotta keep this baby safe." You said, placing your hand on your belly.

"Mama was saying how cute you looked yesterday when you swung by." Tyene smiled.

"I was sad you weren't there. But, I heard you were in good hands." You grinned, watching Matt shrug out of his coat.

Tyene shrugged, but grinned broadly.

"Speaking of, what are we doing tomorrow?"

Tyene chewed her lip and gave another shrug, "dunno. Thought we would party it up tomorrow night at Alyn's club or something."

You nodded, "just text me and lemme know."

You made it through two fights before becoming slightly bored. You stole glances at your husband, who looked equally as bored, as he slouched in his seat and jiggled his foot.

You were going to suggest blowing this joint and maybe sneaking into a movie when the boredom flipped completely. But not into excitement.

The final two fighters of the night. Loras Tyrell, which meant the Tyrells and Lannisters were here. And none other than this infamous Jon Snow that your husband hated with almost as much passion as his obsession for you.

When the man took the ring, Ramsay sat up straight and rigid, eyes narrowed to cold slits, jaw clenched, and fists balled.

You caught Damon and Ben exchanged glances.

You watched how Ramsay watched this Snow guy. It was calculating and almost hungry. Like a starving wolf, in the dead of winter, watching a herd of deer run past.

You opened your mouth to say something to him but Damon made a frantic gesture with his hand, catching your eye, and shaking his head fervently.

You closed your mouth again and turned your eyes to the ring.

They were both fast, but Loras was not consistent. After three rounds, Snow had ended it.

The noise of the crowd was loud and excited as Snow was paraded around the ring in triumph by the ref. He looked solemn and uncomfortable at all the attention.

The stands had mostly cleared before Ramsay finally came back down to earth and stood, fists still balled.

You held on to your empty cup, trying to think of something to say. But what was there to say?

You followed him quietly to the lobby, where you bade Matt, Tyene, Ben, and Kaden good bye, giving Kaden about 15 extra hugs and threatened him to be a good boy for his mommy and daddy. To which he assured you he was always good.

You threw your cup away when a group of Lannisters and Tyrells pushed past you, all practically running toward the exit. It puzzled you.

You turned to Ramsay to ask if he had seen but to your surprise you found him pushing through the crowd in the other direction, Damon tearing off after him.

You exchanged a look with Charlotte and followed in their wake.

"SNOW!" Ramsay shouted, pushing people aside.

"Oh god. Please no." You sighed, hurrying to catch up to your husband.

"Bolton." Jon replied, inclining his head slightly, turning from the news crew and the red head on his arm.

"I'm calling you out." Ramsay growled.

"Baby, do you think that..." You started, halting at Ramsay's side, but stopping in midsentence as he gripped your arm and gave you a murderous look.

Jon Snow stood there, glaring at Ramsay in dislike. The woman at his side, glanced you and your husband over before leaning into Jon and whispering in his ear. He gave her a perplexed look when she pulled away and she wore an arrogant smirk, meeting your gaze.

You curled your lip and glared back at her.

"No." Jon finally spoke.

The red head rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and stormed off.

"Pussy." Ramsay sneered, but his smirk dropped when his phone rang. "What?" He barked when he answered. His face hardened, "no. Do not engage." He hung up and turned to you, pushing you rather roughly along in front of him.

Damon gave you a look of sympathy as you were pushed past him.

Ramsay said nothing until he got to your door at the Jeep. He pushed you into the cold door and grabbed your face.

"If you ever make a fool of me like that in front of people and question my actions ever again, it will be the last thing you ever do." He hissed in so much venom that for the first time you were completely afraid of your husband. He meant it. The ice in his bite made it unmistakable.

You swallowed, dropping your eyes as the tears lined your lower lashes, "yes sir. I'm sorry. I just... I don't want you to get hurt."

Ramsay released you, running the back of his hand along your cheek. He placed his finger under your chin and pulled your face up to his. He placed a kiss to your lips, but said nothing.

"I'm taking you home, then I have to see what the fuck is going on." He helped you into your seat and slammed the door.

"Stannis." You said, remembering what Olyvar had said.

"What?" Ramsay said, glancing over at you in confusion.

"The day I met Oly at the bar to sign paperwork and went to lunch... He told me that Renly had gone into hiding and that Stannis was going to make a move on the Lannisters before the idiot boys wedding. But then I saw the Stark girl and forgot all about it. So sorry baby. I figured you'd know anyways." You said, tumbling over the words as they fell from your mouth.

Ramsay watched you as he sat there waiting on the red light to turn, lights and sirens coming from behind. He said nothing as the cop cars soared past. He cleared his throat and lit a cigarette.

"So?" You asked.

"Nothing. We will go home and that's it. As far as I am concerned neither side makes a difference to me. Maybe they will all kill each other. I have no ties to any of those cunts. Guess we will see what happens when the smoke clears tomorrow morning."

×××

"Party tonight?" You asked, looking up from Tyene's message.

Ramsay shrugged, looking up from his computer, "sure. But tell your snake we are partying my way. And I need to meet the kid at one o'clock downtown on the corner of Fifth and Kings Road."

"Um, okay? What are you doing? You've been quiet all morning." You questioned, sitting up from the couch.

"Numbers. And background cheks. This woman your brother is marrying... she's interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" You asked, with a jealous bite.

Ramsay noticed it and laughed, "jealous? Jealousy bores me, doll. You've nothing to fear. I just meant her family. They have bad blood with the Lannisters. Found articles and police reports. Aparently aren't very popular with Tywin's brother. Maybe that's why she didn't laugh or seem surprised at dinner. She's a couple years younger than you. Been in the service for six years."

You listened to him ramble his useless facts on your soon to be sister in law.

There came a knock on the door and you saw Ramsay crinkle his brow in confusion before he rose from his chair.

He opened the door and Damon stepped in.

"Robb Stark. He's looking for you."

Ramsay clicked his tongue and smirked.

"Tell him to meet me at the shop at six. Then we are going to the club for the kids birthday. I only need you with me when I meet the cop."

"Yessir." Damon nodded, clutching his keys and phone.

"Why did you come all the way up here instead of just calling?" Ramsay asked, crossing his arms.

"Because he's security detail this morning." You spoke up, putting your book down.

Your husband looked between you and Damon, who gave a half shrug and nod.

"I thought that was Friday?"

"Babe, it is Friday." You said, furrowing your brows slightly.

"Hm. Interesting." He hummed, leaving the room.

"He good?" Damon asked quietly.

You shrugged, "he's been a bit off for a couple days."

"When's your appointment?"

You heaved a sigh, "Wednesday."

"Ah. I see." Damon nodded, glancing around the mostly empty house.

"This is a pretty dress." You said, pulling the navy blue dress from the bag.

"I thought it would look good on you. Classic waves. Pearls. You have two hours." Ramsay replied, throwing a box of shoes on the bed.

"Why are we dressing so nice to get the kid fucked up for his eighteenth birthday?" You asked, examining the highly polished, black shoes.

"Rite of passage."  

Ramsay walked in the bathroom, fixing his cufflinks as you pulled the last if the curlers from your hair. You felt your cheeks warm as you glanced at him in the mirror.

"Why do we look like we belong in the thirties?" You asked, turning to him.

"Dress code." He said, adjusting his tie and placing his fedora hat delicately on his perfectly slicked hair. You just noticed he had gotten a haircut while he was out.

"Where are we going?" You asked, turning back to the counter to find your lipstick.

"It's a surprise."

"Who are we meeting?"

"Matt, your snake, Dame, Charlotte, and Alyn."

He clasped your strand of pearls around your neck, fingers lingering longer than needed as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Alright, doll. First we meet with Stark, then we meet up with the gang."

"I'm following your lead." You smiled, putting your makeup away.

"You will hold your tongue, understood?" Ramsay said, throwing open the conference room door.

You nodded, entering the dark room, as Ramsay flipped on the light. You took a seat and ran your hand over the smooth surface of the polished table.

Ramsay leaned against the table beside you, glancing down at his watch. He tutted in annoyance.

"I really hate when people don't have the courtesy to be on time."

"You'd really hate my mom then. She'll be late to her own funeral." You giggled, tapping your foot on the ground, as you smoothed out your dress.

Moments later Damon entered, looking just as clean cut as Ramsay. You almost didn't recognize him and took a few moments of staring to realize who it was, as he swept his hat off his head and tucked it under his arm, leaning against the wall as Robb Stark walked in stiffly. The news reporter, Talisa a step behind him.

"Let's waste no time, I'm in rather a hurry this evening." Ramsay said, taking a seat beside you.

Robb made to sit across the table but Ramsay held up his hand, "gun on the table."

Robb scowled, pulling his gun and placing it on the table.

Ramsay glanced at you, "check her."

You rose from your seat, walking around the table to Talisa.

"Is this really necessary?" Robb asked, stiffening even more.

"Just a precaution." Ramsay said, lighting a cigarette.

You gave Talisa a small smile, "Sorry. But, safety first." You pat her down, "oh! I love your shoes."

"Uh... thanks?" She said, standing just as stiffly as Robb.

You pulled away from her and returned to your seat.

Robb and Talisa took their seats, both looking very awkward and uncomfortable.

"So, you got my message?" Ramsay asked, resting his elbows on the table.

"Yes. I did. You're a hard man to find." Robb said, with a nod.

"I like it that way. But I've been watching you. Nosing around in things that will get you killed. I would hire a professional hacker next time you try to find me. Now, before I say any more, why have you been meeting with my father?"

Robb eyed Ramsay closely, "he's helping me find my sister."

"Why? What's in it for him?" Ramsay asked, masking his confusion, but not before you took note of it.

"Don't know. He came to me and said he was sorry about my father and offered his help." Robb said, looking down at his hands as he rested them on the table.

You could see the strain in his face. Poor guy. Trying to play by his law abiding, police rules.

"Hm. Well, I am afraid I lied about having your sister. However, I know who has her. But locating her physical being has been difficult." Ramsay said, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Who?" Robb asked at once, snapping his head up.

"Hold on there, detective. What's in it for me?" Ramsay chuckled.

You gave him a side eye, frowning at his enjoyment by keeping this poor man in the dark.

"Bolton, I'm a cop. I don't make near enough what you're asking for." Robb said with a frustrated sigh, running his hand over his face.

Ramsay smirked, putting his cigarette out in the ash tray on the table, taking his hat off, and placing it in your lap.

"And I am just a simple banker, who owns a garage."

"Please. Name your price." Talisa spoke up, grabbing Robb's hand tight.

"Alright, how about this... Give me Theon Greyjoy and I will deliver your sister to you. Bring me Theon and his uncle, Euron Greyjoy and I will give you your sister and fifty k."

Robb gaped, "Theon? Why?"

"That's my business. Deal?" Ramsay said, a grin twitching the corner of his mouth.

"I can't. I don't even know where he is. He never came back to work." Robb admitted, chewing his lip.

The grin spread like poison on Ramsay's face.

"Seem to be losing everyone close to you, huh?"

Robb gave an ugly scowl and made to stand. Ramsay pulled back his jacket to reveal the gun strapped to his chest. Robb sat back in his chair.

"Do we have a deal?" Ramsay asked, rising from his chair, pulling the gun.

Talisa gasped, casting around wildly as Damon stepped in front of the only exit, hand tucked away inside his jacket.

Robb sighed, "Do I even have a choice?"

Ramsay laughed, "And I thought all Stark's were slow on the uptake. Look at it this way, you both walk out of here and never mention this meeting to anyone, you give me what I want, I give you what you want. Easy, right?"

Robb gripped the arms of his chair, "and if I bring the whole department down on you?"

Ramsay sucked his front teeth and gave an eye roll. He lazily held his gun up at Talisa.

You watched her eyes widen and color drain from her face.

"If you try anything stupid, well..." Ramsay said, pulling the trigger.

Talisa screamed as the shot rang out, and a hole appeared in the wall feet behind her. Ramsay had just missed grazing her cheek.

Robb jumped up, lunging for his gun, but Ramsay pulled a knife from nowhere it seemed and buried it in Robb's sleeve, pinning him just out of reach of his gun.

Talisa was sobbing hysterically into her hands, and Robb was fuming. Ramsay glanced at the shocked, sobbing woman in distaste.

"Now. Do. We. Have. A. Deal?" Ramsay asked, fingering the handle of the knife.

"Yes." Robb said weakly, shoulders dropping.

Ramsay wrenched the knife from the table with a satisfied grin and held out his hand. Robb shook it reluctantly.

"Because I'm such a good guy, I'll give you a clue on your sister. Joffrey Baratheon."

Robb eyed Ramsay, snatched his gun from the table, helped Talisa from her chair, and ushered her from the room.

"Remember, if you speak a word of this, your graves are already dug!" Ramsay called after them with a malicious laugh.

Once they were gone you turned to your husband, as he took his hat back from you.

"The Lannisters don't have her though." You said bluntly.

Ramsay chuckled, "I know. But I like watching cops chase their tails. Now, let's get the fuck outta here. We have a long night ahead of us."

"What is this place?" You asked, snaking your arm around Ramsay's waist as he led you down a flight of cobblestone steps to a thick door. There was a small sign above the door that read "Naked Man".

Ramsay only gave you a smirk as he knocked on the door.

You glanced back at Damon, Charlotte, Matt, Tyene, and Alyn. They had all dressed like you and Ramsay. It was like looking back in time.

An eye hole in the door slid back. Ramsay pulled back his sleeve slightly to reveal part of his flayed man tattoo, "Bolton, party of seven. Our blades are sharp."

The eye hole slid closed and a few moments later the heavy door swung in and Ramsay led you into an underground club. It was dim, full of smoke haze, mostly older men, girls dressed in curve hugging floor gowns like yours, and an electro swing band on a wooden stage. It had to be the most upbeat, and yet elegant place you had ever set foot in. The floors were dark polished oak, the walls done up in more elegant wood work. It was cozy and yet regal. It was... classic.

Ramsay turned around, grabbing Matt by the tie and pulling him forward, "your night is on me." He released Matt and glanced at your group, "to the Seven Deadly Sins." He winked, looking past you and letting a wicked smirk grow.

You turned to see what Ramsay was looking at. There in a corner, smoking cigars and playing poker sat Roose and Tywin Lannister.

Ramsay gripped your hand and led you toward his father. You followed unwillingly.

He slid into an empty seat beside his father, grabbed a glass off a tray a woman was carrying, and pulled you into his lap.

He took a very long, exaggerated drink, set the glass down, pulled his hat off, and smiled sweetly at his father.

Roose eyed Ramsay in weariness. "Son. Don't ever see you here."

"Yeah, been awhile. What brings you to the city? You hardly ever come to the city... though I've had it that you've been here a lot recently." Ramsay said, dealing himself cards, and pulling out his cigarettes.

"Mr. Lannister and I had business to take care of." Roose said curtly, eyeing you over.

"Been keeping busy, Lannister? Heard you pulled some amazing feats last night." Ramsay said, glancing up from his cards, pushing them aside, and giving Tywin a calculating look.

"Yes. Stannis is lucky to have the men he still has. Though it may not remain that way very long." Tywin nodded, taking a drink from his glass.

Jaime Lannister slid into the empty seat next to his father. He glanced you and Ramsay over.

"Didn't realize all the Bolton's would be here tonight." Jaime said, taking a drink offered by a woman.

"Strictly coincidence. Now, which one of you is selling?" Ramsay shrugged.

"What do you want, son?" Roose asked rather dangerously.

"Just wanna buy drugs, old man." Ramsay replied giving his father a very innocent look, that could of fooled God himself. "You always got good shit on you. I need it for the night. Look, I'm feeling generous, I'll even pay double."

"I don't need your money, idiot. Take it and go." Roose hissed, pulling a neatly folded bag of fine white powder from his breast pocket and thrusting it at Ramsay.

"Hey, I may get you a 'Dad of the year' coffee cup for father's day this year." Ramsay chuckled, taking the baggie. "Guess I can still expect you Wednesday afternoon?"

Roose eyed you and nodded, "of course. Wouldn't miss it."

You looked daggers at your father in law, thankful Ramsay couldn't see from your angle in his lap.

"Come on, doll. Let's leave the grumpy old men to their boring game. The young lion is cheating anyways." Ramsay said, nudging you to stand, and nodding at Jaime with a polite smile.

He gripped your hand and led you across the club, out of sight of Roose, to the table the Boys sat at.

"Right, kid. Hope you know what an honor it is to be here. I mean both literally here," he motioned around the building, "and officially being apart of the Bastard's Boys."

Matt gave a nod, looking a bit dazed.

Ramsay tossed the baggie he had got off his father to Alyn. "Six lines."

Alyn nodded, pulling his wallet and sliding a credit card out.

"Do you swing?" Ramsay whispered in your ear as you turned your attention to the band playing.

"Yes, actually. It's my favorite." You replied, turning back to him.

"Man, I knew I married you for a reason." He grinned, pulling out his wallet and pulling six crips bills from it. He passed them around, rolling his as tightly as he could.

"To a night you will never remember, or forget." Ramsay said, winking at Matt, snorting the thin line Alyn had carefully slid across the table with the plastic card.

Something about watching Ramsay snort cocaine was slightly heartbreaking. You knew he had used many times over the years, but he had never done it in front of you, and often assured you he only drank, popped pills occasionally, and smoked marijuana since "falling in love" with you.

You stood there watching him drop the rolled up bill on the table, bury his face in one hand, and clutch at his chest with the other. He shook his head, dropped his hands, and turned his eyes to yours as his pupils blew.

"Oh fuck." He muttered, taking a seat and staring at the table.

Alyn clapped him on the shoulder, "just give it a minute. Inhaled too hard is all."

You watched everyone succumb to the high from the blow. You felt like an outsider slightly. You made to sit down when Ramsay gripped your hand and rose from his chair.

He ordered a round of drinks for the table as he led you past the bar and to the dance floor.

"Pretty soon I'll be too fat for this." You said with a sad smile, as you fell into the fast paced steps with him.

He twirled you and pulled you into him, biting at your neck, "until then, though, I will take you dancing whenever you want."

"How is it that you are the most charming and horrible man I have ever met?" You asked, feeling slightly breathless already.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it." He replied, also seeming rather winded. Though it may have just been the drugs. You weren't sure.

Three songs later you had to call it quits. Ramsay returned you to the table, and left you to get you a glass of water.

You glanced around the place, seeing your group scattered, enjoying themselves. It made you smile. Ramsay set the glass down in front of you, taking a seat beside you and pulling your chair closer.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, throwing back his drink.

"You." You said slowly turning your gaze from the room to him.

"What about me?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his brows slightly.

"I dunno. You're different. Not being so murderous or threatening. Treating Matt to, what I'm sure is a very expensive night, and... I dunno. I don't know how to explain it." You said, running your eyes over him.

"All of us spent our eighteenth birthdays here, and he's a Boy now. So, I thought I'd extend the hand. I take care of those who work for me. Sometimes that means doing things like this." He replied with a small shrug.

You nodded, turning back to the crowd, giving a tiny gasp as Tyene climbed up on a table, shouting to get everyone's attention.

"Hey! Tonight we are celebrating a birthday. And the birthday boy needs all your support to help him blow out his birthday candles!" Tyene shouted, as two bartenders set a towering birthday cake on the counter.

Alyn and Damon were helping a very inebriated Matt to the cake. There were a few catcalls and jeers from the crowd.

On the third attempt Matt managed to blow out all the candles, which was greeted by clapping and whistles. Mostly by the older men who took delight in watching a stupid kid make a fool of himself, while trashed beyond belief.

"Cake then?" Ramsay asked.

"Please." You nodded, giving a smile.

"I need a kiss first." Ramsay said, reaching for your face and pulling you toward him.

You placed your lips to his, kissing him deeply. He moved his hand from your cheek to grope and grab at your breasts.

"Stop it." You hissed against his lips.

"You like it." He grinned back, letting a small moan escape him as you slid from your seat to his lap.

"How pissed would your father be if I fucked you right here?" You asked, kissing along his jaw.

"Mm, so pissed." He panted, tipping his head back.

"Good." You purred in his ear, hiking your dress up enough to straddle your husband.

He slid his hands to your hips and gripped hard, as you ground against his pants.

You felt him stir in his pants as he shifted to push his hips into you.

You took one of his hands, sliding it up your dress.

"Gave you a grand to buy underwear and you aren't even wearing any." He said with a small, longing groan as he ran his fingers against you.

"Just wanted you to know that I'm ready." You whispered, biting at his neck.

He shifted I'm his seat, to undo his belt, "how ruined are these pants?"

"On a scale of not to embarrassingly, I'm going to have to go with embarrassingly." You smirked, nipping his ear.

He grinned, peaking his eye open. "We need to move over a couple tables if you're wanting to piss off my father."

"Well, move us." You replied.

"When did you become the bad influence?" He chuckled, cupping your ass as he stood, bringing you with him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing and nibbling at his ear, you made to respond when someone cleared their throat bringing you back to reality.

You pulled away from him to look around.

"Down here." A voice said.

Both you and Ramsay looked down to see Tyrion Lannister.

"Little man." Ramsay chuckled, sitting back down.

You gave a sniff, sliding back into your own seat and fixing your dress.

"Sorry to interrupt. I'm not usually one to be a cock block, but I would hate for such a young, beautiful couple to be caught off guard with their pants down."

You stared at Tyrion, raising a brow.

"What do you mean?" Ramsay asked.

Tyrion nodded at a group of men watching you and Ramsay.

"Fuck them. Jealous fucks." Ramsay said, glaring back at them in malice.

"All the same." Tyrion said, taking a seat at the table.

Ramsay pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to Tyrion, who took it.

"What brings you here?" Tyrion asked, lighting his cigarette.

Ramsay nodded at Matt, who was being held up by Tyene, who was laughing wildly. "Kid's birthday. All my Boys and I spent our eighteenth birthdays here, and so I thought I'd bring the kid as I made him an official Boy this afternoon."

Tyrion watched Matt through his mismatched eyes, a small grin on his face, which was heavily cut and bruised.

"What happened to you?" Ramsay asked bluntly.

Tyrion sighed in his exhale of smoke, "Stannis' little escapade last night. Had a hell of a time trying to keep things together, then father, of course, swooped in and saved the day."

"Ah, fathers. Always stealing the thunder. Aren't they the worst?" Ramsay nodded.

Tyrion gave a bitter laugh, "I will drink to that."

"Hear hear." Ramsay said, turning in his seat to catch a waitresses attention.

She set two glasses down in front of Ramsay and Tyrion, offering you one, but you waved her away.

"Where's your bitch of a sister?"

"Probably off gloating over Stannis' defeat last night." Tyrion shrugged.

You watched Ramsay give a sweeping glance over the room and frown. He sighed, pulled his gun, placed it in your lap, slipping his hand in his pants pocket as he stood up.

You caught the glint of metal as he pulled his hand from his pocket.

"If you'll excuse me." He said, stalking off, grabbing Damon by the elbow as he walked by.

Confused you turned in your seat, seeing the group Tyrion had warned about harassing Matt and Tyene.

Tyrion gave a tut, watching closely as Ramsay tapped the closest man on the shoulder and hit him squarely in the face without a word as the man turned to face him.

Alyn swooped in as Ramsay and Damon tackled the group of men to the ground.

Tyene tugged Matt away from the brawl. He tripped over a chair and fell backward, hitting his head on a the table.

A single gunshot rang out, silencing the room at once; Ramsay standing abruptly, running his hand over his chest and giving a small sigh.

Roose stood there, gun raised, eyes narrowed.

"Ramsay, get out of my club." He snarled, his voice hardly an octave above a whisper that seemed to carry around the room.

Ramsay made a noise, wiping his bloodied lip on the back of his hand, motioning at the men picking themselves up off the ground.

"What of them? They started it!" Ramsay said in a voice of forced calm.

"They are here as my guests." Roose said as if it settled the matter.

"And I'm here as your son!" Ramsay raged, stepping into Roose.

"Get. Out." Roose hissed, narrowing his pale eyes to deadly slits, pushing the barrel of his gun into Ramsay's chest.

"I will remember this. I take back what I said about father of the year." Ramsay said through clenched teeth, a manic grin threatening to show.

He yanked Alyn toward him, grabbing at him, and pulling the bag of powder from him. He turned back to his father and emptied the baggie on Roose's shoes, flinging the empty bag in Roose's face. He dropped a pair of brass knuckles at his father's feet and turned to Damon and Alyn.

"Let's go Boys."

Alyn helped Tyene gather up Matt, and Charlotte appeared at your side, grabbing your empty hand.

You held on to Ramsay's gun and hat, not daring to make eye contact with Roose as you were shunted through the room.

The wind was bitter as you stepped out into the cold night. Ramsay relieved you of gun and hat.

Matt leaned against the wall as you emerged from the top of the stairs. He looked upset, running his hand over the back of his head.

"Sup?" Damon asked, looking Matt over.

"They... I... my shoe." Matt said, unable to string words together in his upset, drunk state.

You looked down to see Matt was only wearing one shoe.

[jerseydeanne]

Roseberrycupcakes- Last post 😢😢😢😢😢

My dearest JD: thank you so much for your supportive words. Since this is your platform, you could have easily dismissed my posts as irrelevant. While I will continue to send in submissions, this will likely be my last submission that delves deeply into my personal life. Xoxo, Roseberry

I have a secret to share: my father abandoned me when I was a teenager. Well, to be more precise, he left my entire family. In fact, this year is the ten year mark of his absence. The day he left was like any other day. He and my mom bickered over breakfast, my sibling and I grabbed our lunchboxes and munched on cereal bars, and my dad dropped me and my sibling off at school. Then, he was off to work–or so we thought. He never showed up.

My dad is a physician, just like I am; but a surgeon, unlike me. Quite successful one too; or, at least, he used to be. In my last submission, I mentioned that there’s not much love lost between my grandmother (my paternal grandmother) and me; there’s a reason for that. My grandmother, despite her former position as the first lady of a church, is a woman who’s deeply obsessed with social standings. She’s quite materialistic; and you see, she wasn’t satisfied with the lifestyle my dad led. My dad’s quiet suburb home with a beautiful wife and two children just didn’t scream wealth to her. With her funds depleting after my grandfather’s passing, she desperately needed money. I should specify that her need wasn’t for her survival; it was for appearances among the wealthier members of the congregation. My parents’ marriage have been rocky for years thanks to my dad’s philandering ways; and my dad’s psyche was destabilized with my grandfather’s passing, which my grandmother took full advantage of. She went around her circle of friends searching for business opportunities, and received a proposition: my dad would be a business partner in opening a hospital chain in another country; there was enough market research done in the area; and they knew they would have enough “patients” (they probably viewed them as “customers”). With the estimated profit margin, my grandmother was hooked; she knew my mother would be vehemently against such greedy methods to earn money from patients; so she persuaded my dad behind my mom’s back. After all, my mother was “just” a housewife; what could she do if my dad decided to uproot everything and move to another country? How wrong they all were.

After three days of his absence, my mom was finally able to get in contact with my dad. During those three days, he had not called once or even showed signs that he was still alive. Of course, you can probably imagine the yelling matches that ensued. My mom was no longer a pushover who was going to follow my dad to the ends of the earth; and that was the last phone conversation they ever had.

You would think that my mom would have immediately filed for divorce after this argument; she didn’t. She knew very well of the stigma surrounding the divorce even in this day in age, particularly in the social set we belonged. She knew she couldn’t stop the rumors of his absence from spreading; after all, everyone at the university hospital freaked out once they realized he quit without saying a goodbye to anyone; but she wasn’t going to divorce him. “Why would I divorce him? Am I supposed to let him legitimatize whatever whore he is with?” were her precise words at the time. It didn’t matter that my sibling and I would rather have her divorce him and be free of him then be tied to him, even if it’s just on papers. Without a divorce court forcing my dear father to fork over child support, he apparently had no reason to. For the next couple of years, he would go on to not pay a single dime for his own flesh and blood. Of course, during this time, he was earning extraordinary salary; the highest tax bracket, to be specific. When we finally managed to persuade my mom to divorce him, he ended up paying barely a year of child support for me; and that was the only source of contact I had with him for years to come.

I don’t know how to describe the years of my father’s absence. Since the morning he left, he never called or reached out to me or my sibling to this day; not on birthdays or Christmases. Never. It was like he erased our existences completely. I wish I could say his abandonment hit both of us equally hard; but to be frank, it hit me quite harder. I was daddy’s little girl, always following him around like a puppy and begging for his approval. Unfortunately, from an early age, my sibling was my dad’s golden child; and I was always labeled as the black sheep of the family. It didn’t help me that I was the one who was on the receiving end of my mom’s numerous breakdowns as the older sibling. She would tell me that this was all my fault; and I couldn’t say a word in response. You see, during their last argument, my dad yelled down the phone that the only reason he married my mom was because she got pregnant with me. My very conception was the reason my mom and my dad married each other; my very existence was the reason my mom couldn’t leave him earlier in the marriage; what could I say in response to her hurtful yet true claim? I understood her plight; she had just lost her husband and she was forced to raise two teenagers on her own; it would have been tough on anyone. But in the midst of her emotional struggle, she forgot at times that I had lost my father; I never chose to be born, yet it was me who got blamed.

The reason I decided to reveal something so private on a public forum was two folds. First, I wanted to make an argument regarding Ms. Markle’s relationship with her father. There are some who state that Ms. Markle’s shouldn’t be criticized for leaving her father bankrupt, because her father practically “abandoned” her. I’m not someone to criticize a child who refused to be taken advantage of by an abusive parent, but the reason I’m uncomfortable with such argument is because it sets a wrong standard. When I had dinner with my father for the first time since he abandoned me, I couldn’t recognize the grey-haired man in front of me; he had never sent a single picture over the years. He said his perfunctory apology over steak dinner, and I asked how the hospital was doing as if I cared. I was surprised to hear that he wasn’t doing so well. Despite the initial high earnings, the chain was suffering losses; he was in debt. I thought I had stopped caring, but in the days that followed, a heavy weight settled into my heart. Then one night, I broke down and crawled into my mom’s bed. I told her of my dad’s situation. I was scared. I knew he had no real friends left by his side; he had cut off contacts with his own two children; all he had were odious family members and business associates who were taking advantage of him. I was afraid he was going to commit suicide over such a silly thing like money. I no longer viewed my dad as a paternal figure; I pitied him as a human being for being so easily misled. I begged my mom to allow me to help him financially if he’s willing to accept it; and not so surprisingly, my mom agreed. She stated that even though she resented my dad over the years, she’s the one who won because she has us by her side. Of course, if my dad were the sort of person who went along nicely, these sort of things would have never happened in the first place. Apparently, it’s “none of your damn business” what happens, but at least I tried. I was free from the guilt of CHOOSING to abandon my own parent in need.

I didn’t make that offer to my dad because I’m some sort of an angel. To be frank, I wished more horrific thoughts than I would care to admit. During all those humiliating years of my father’s absence, I wished him dead. I really did. I wished he died–not by suicide, because that would somehow make me feel guilty; I wished he died by car crash or by cancer; because that way, it wouldn’t have been his choice to leave me; I could blame someone else instead of him or myself; his absence wouldn’t be a source of derogatory gossip; and I could actually admit that I was raised by a single mother. I ended up berating myself endlessly for having these thoughts. What kind of a person wishes her own father dead? Even when I finally met him again, it took every ounce of strength to refrain from throwing the glass of water in front of me when he still thought he could talk to me like I was a little girl. So I’m no saint when it comes to my father; yet I still thought of helping him out when he was in need. I’m not saying those who’ve been abandoned are required to help these poor excuses for parents; it’s just that in my personal opinion, it would be wrong to insinuate that leaving them in the pit is somehow the norm; but that’s the angle Ms. Markle and her supporters are aiming for.

Ms. Markle was adored by her parents. My dad never came to my graduations; he wasn’t available for my high school one; and he rejected my offer to attend my med school graduation; without both of my parents, I didn’t go to any of my graduations since middle school. So if her graduating pics with her father were real, her father at least made an effort to be in his daughter’s life; and this would make her disregard for her father’s financial situation quite heartless. Not everyone deserves to be a parent; we all know that. But being an adult sometimes means recognizing the fact that your flawed parents are not superheroes; they’re humans just like you and me; they make mistakes; they’re not perfect; and they deserve our forgiveness sometimes.

The second reason I delved into such private details I’ve told no friends is to remind people of Harry’s goodness. I’m not a “good” person, but if it means anything, Harry’s a better person than I am. He really is. I wouldn’t necessarily say being abandoned by a parent is worse than losing a parent who loved you; my father had a choice to leave, while his mother didn’t; I can blame my dad, but Harry has no one to blame. I don’t remember what I said to my dad the morning he abandoned me, but my last conversation with him is yet to come; as long as he’s alive, I can still try to help no matter how many times he turn me down. Harry doesn’t have that luxury, and I think this finality makes Harry’s situation more heartbreaking than mine. Because I am acutely aware of what it was like to be on the receiving end of prying gossip, I can’t imagine what it was like for him to go through such episodes on a much larger scale. Despite what many believe, Harry didn’t have an easy life; money and luxury cushions blows only when you’re not used to having it. I bet Harry would give all of those away in a heartbeat if it means having his mother back, but he can’t.

One last point I wanted to make was this: describing children of divorced parents as coming from “broken homes” is a quite cruel and ignorant statement. To be brutally honest, my family may have been a “picture perfect” family when my dad was around, but it was never calm within our four walls; it was more broken before he left than afterwards. There were always arguments going on; unless you know what it’s like to be a little girl constantly looking over the master bedroom to make sure your mom didn’t swallow a bottle of bleach to end her life, you have no idea what can go on inside a home. So I know full well that broken homes can exist in families with both parents. When parents scream at one another, they may think they’re screaming at each other, but it’s the children in the midst who remember the words; in this regards, divorce is better for children, because they don’t have to endure endless arguments. Instead of dragging a marriage that ended decades ago, maybe it’s time for everyone to bury what is dead and support the living.

Thanks to all who read this long story.

-Roseberrycupcakes (RCC)

[hopeduckling13]

Find My Way Back To You: Chapter 6

Summary:  Hope Swan-Jones is the product of the product of true love and her true love, so her having very powerful magic was always in the cards. Luckily she lives in a town where everyone is very familiar with magic, so nothing can go wrong, can it?

Or so everyone thought, but then one day as a newborn Hope accidently travels back in time with her mother Emma.

How will the past population of Storybrooke react to their Savior having another kid and being married? And more importantly will the Savior and her baby daughter find a way back home to all of their loved ones?

- - -

Catch Up:

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857127/chapters/34395467

FF.NET: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12964592/1/Find-My-Way-Back-To-You

[Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

--- PAST EMMA’S POV ---

 David and I are working on some of the paperwork stuff today. It’s not very hard and it’s boring, so it gives us plenty opportunity to sort through our thoughts about everything that’s currently happening in Storybrooke. And to mentally start planning for the impending doom.

Cora, who is a very bad person and managed to get the Evil Queen to work with her, is in my hometown and she’s threatening everyone I care about. She hasn’t made a real move yet, but I know, that it’s happening soon. I should get as much peace and quiet now as possible.

Also, Captain Hook and Rumpelstiltskin recently got into a fight, which resulted in Belle losing her memories and Hook being hit by a car. I’m assuming that that fight will continue any minute now since I got a call from Whale earlier, who said, that Hook discharged himself from the hospital. So he’s probably already planning his next attack on Gold. I’d try to stop all that, but I must say, that I don’t really care about what happens to either of them. Especially Gold since he mentioned, that he’s soon going to cash in that favour I still owe him for saving Ashley’s baby from him. He’s a crazy person, so the favour will probably be insane too and I don’t really feel like finding out what it is about. I doubt it’s going to be something pleasant and easy. Why can’t he just cash in his favour for a hair of me. I am magical and special after all because of who my parents are.

If all that wasn’t enough, there’s also a stranger in Storybrooke, which is very weird. For 28 years no one but me was able to enter or leave the town and now there’s this weird guy who tweets pictures of his food. Greg Mendell. He just drove over the townline with his car like it’s a total normal road, running over Hook in the process.

So, with all the drama going on in Storybrooke at the moment, no one can blame me for grabbing my gun, when I hear the door to the sheriff station open. I point the gun to the entrance of the room and only put it down once I realize, that the intruder really just is my roommate Mary Margret. I sigh in relief.

“Sorry. I thought you might be Cora or Hook or something like that.” I apologize. Mary Margret just waves me off and tells me, that it’s understandable, which is not exactly a lie under the circumstances.

“What are you doing here, Mary Margret? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” David asks his wife, when she walks over to him and gives him a peck on the lips. They smile at each other and I feel like making up an excuse to leave the room. I hate couples. They make me very uncomfortable and that’s not just because I don’t do relationships myself. That might have been the case, if I was looking for someone to be with, which I’m not, so there’s no jealousy at all involved.

“I’m on lunch break and I thought we could get some takeout from Granny’s and have lunch together. As a family.” Mary Margret answers and I need to leave more than ever. I can’t handle hearing the F-word just yet. I’ve been alone all my life, so I just hate it when Mary Margret pretends that’s not the case and we can just be one happy family. But at least her idea gives me an excuse to flee.

“I’m getting us some takeout. You guys wait here.”

I don’t give them an opportunity to stop me as I grab my red leather jacket and almost sprint out of the building. Finally, some much needed air and space. That is at least for as long as I see Hook on the other side of the street, heading in my direction.

“Swan.” He says cheerfully as a kind of greeting and I just sigh in annoyance. He leans down as if he’s about to kiss me and I push him away without a second thought, while glaring at him. What the hell is this about? His stupid innuendoes and the constant flirting aren’t enough for him anymore?

“What do you want, Hook?”

He tilts his head and sighs to himself like he’s somewhat disappointed.

“So we’re back to ‘Hook’ and no welcoming kisses? Too bad. I quite enjoyed our previous arrangement.”

What the hell?! Neither of those things ever happened! What kind of drugs did they give him at the hospital? They obviously didn’t mix well with his precious rum. Or maybe Gold messed with his brain, which doesn’t really seem like his style at all. I’m pretty sure, that if Gold made his move by now, Hook would be dead already.

“You’re a crazy person and now move out of my way.” I almost yell at him. I don’t even know what it is about that guy, that makes me so angry whenever he’s around. It’s probably pure hate. I mean he’s so damn infuriating – he acts like he knows me and can read my every thought, which he definitely can’t. He might have figured out that I’m an orphan, but who knows how he knew that. Cora probably told him since they’re besties. It was the right decision to leave him on the beanstalk – if I would have trusted him, I probably would’ve never made it back to Henry. Because Hook would have stolen the compass from us to give it to Cora.

“So harsh, love. Ouch.”

I roll my eyes at him, before continuing to glare at him. Maybe I’ll develop a superpower to kill Hook by simply glaring at him, if I try long enough. I do have some kind of magical powers after all since Cora couldn’t rip out my heart.

“I’m not your ‘love’, so don’t call me that. Also, leave me alone.” I say as I start moving towards Granny’s. Unfortunately, Hook has no intention of listening to me and follows me, which shouldn’t be a surprise since he never ever did anything I told him to do – like stay in his hospital room, so Gold doesn’t get the chance to kill him right there on the spot or stay at the hospital for as long as he needs to stay. The list goes on and on. I stopped counting by now – not that I ever started to begin with since I don’t give a damn what he does.

“But that would be no fun, Swan. You were the one that wanted to keep me company remember, love?” I shouldn’t have said anything about the nickname. Now he’s just saying it on purpose to upset me – and it works. Whenever he says it, I feel the need to strangle him with my own hands.

“I might have mentioned wanting us to hang out to you…in your dreams, Hook. Now go back to your stupid ship and do whatever it is you do in your free time – perhaps plan your stupid suicide mission against Rumpelstiltskin.”

He laughs in disbelieve.

“So, you’re still convinced you’re actually going to get your revenge on the Dark One and live to tell the tale.” I don’t even ask him, but rather make the statement. I know his answer anyway. He really is delusional. Maybe he isn’t acting weird at all today and all those creepy things he’s saying are normal for his standards. I wouldn’t put it past him. Not anymore. “I told you before in the hospital and I’m telling you now. If you continue your revenge mission, you’re going to be dead soon.”

“It’s not like I have anything to lose since he took away everything I cared about.”

Not having anything to lose, I do know what that feels like. It sucks a lot. It’s the first time since I met Hook, that I kind of understand where he’s coming from. Maybe we aren’t so different after all, but that doesn’t change anything. He’s still my enemy and I don’t want anything to do with him. So, I pat him on the shoulder in understanding as if to wish him good luck, before walking away.

“Suit yourself.”

This time he doesn’t follow me, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole way to Granny’s.

  I get some grilled cheeses with onion rings for me and the other two at the station from the diner run by the old lady. When I exit Granny’s, Hook seems to be long gone and I sigh in relief. I don’t think I could have handled his annoying self a second time today. He somehow gets under my skin no matter what he does, and it bothers me. It’s like my body keeps telling me to trust him, which would be a big mistake. I can’t control myself around him and that’s dangerous – after all I still have no idea why I touched his shoulder earlier or why I told the nurse at the hospital to hide him. The walls I build around my heart seem to dissolve whenever he’s there, and that’s a terrible thing. They’re there to protect me after all, so they can’t fail me. Not after all these years.

Lost in my thoughts about Hook, my walk to the station passes in a blur. It’s over before it really started, and I contemplate sitting in my bug just for a little while, but I decide against it. It might be really hard to spend time with Mary Margret and David, but I can’t hide from them forever – they would never let me. Also, I do appreciate that they care about me. It’s just hard to forget all the years I’ve been on my own. Someone caring about me, it’ll take some getting used to. Maybe in a few years I’ll be ready to accept them as people who are related to me.

As I walk into the station I hear a faint voice, which sounds awfully much like my own. What the hell are Mary Margaret and David doing? Are they watching some of the security footage in a weird attempt to get to know me? And that right when I thought this town couldn’t get any weirder?

But apparently my life wasn’t crazy enough yet, I realize as I walk into the main room of the sheriff station. My assumption would be a total normal thing in comparison to the truth, really.

There, standing right in the middle, am I? Or at least someone who looks like me? And talks like me? She seems a few years older and has a new-born baby on her arm. At that realization I let the food, along with my jaw, drop to the floor. I try to get a question out, like who she is and what she wants, but I still can’t move anything, including my mouth. The few words I do get out sound like a weird whisper. I don’t even recognise my own voice anymore.

The other me then approaches me and smiles softly.

“Don’t freak out, okay? I’m you…” She says, and I feel my eyebrows raising to the clouds. What the hell? How can she be me? I’m me. This stupid town is like the worst place to live at. “I’m from the future and I need your help to get back home. I’m sure together we can figure something out.”

Time travel? That shouldn’t even surprise me anymore, but it does. And she wants my help to get back to the future? Who does she think I am? A wizard or something?

Also, she’s me. But she can’t be me. When I gave up Henry, I swore to myself, that I would never ever risk getting pregnant again, so how the hell do I have a baby in the future? There’s no way this was an accident, I wouldn’t let that happen. Not ever again. That can only mean, that I let down my walls for someone, which means more future pain. Love isn’t real after all and it only brings you wasted years and endless torment. I don’t want that to be my future. I’m kind of doing okay right now, why do I have to destroy that again?

Oh god, this is all too much, I think as I storm out of the sheriff station because I doubt I can stay there a second longer without suffocating. Let’s just hope no one will follow me. I need to be alone. Sometimes I think, that I really should just go back to Boston. I had a better life then.