#but he thought those words weren’t mine and then I recited a whole chapter

[bubblefina]

King of Hearts chapter 5

Masterlist

Summary: Reader and Tom meet during their years at Hogwarts, but as the years pass a rivalry grows between the two of them, which leads from soft beginnings to tragic endings.

“Wait, tonight? Are you mad? Meeting that late without having a class will get us in trouble either way, no way am I-”

“You’re such a goody two shoes Riddle. Fine, I'll meet you right outside the dungeons near the Slytherin common room at 11:50, I’ll escort you to the tower. Be there or I won't be happy.”

Pairings: Tom x f!reader

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧.˚ *•̩̩͙ ✩

Chapter 5- Blackmail

Around 11:40 at night, you left the dorm room to head to the Astronomy tower for the last class of the “day”. The Astronomy tower was located at the tallest tower at Hogwarts, and the classroom was at the very top, in a wide open space.

Other first years walked beside you on the stairs, the stairway was lit by a few lanterns around every corner, but that still made it a little hard to see.

The Astronomy Tower was spaced out, telescopes around every edge, one for each student. Small desks were placed next to each telescope to accompany it.

“No desks? We have to stand for the whole class period?” a girl you didn’t recognize was complaining to her friends, alerting the teacher.

“Studying stars will not require you to sit down. Welcome to class, in Astronomy you will study stars and the movements of plants. To get started, you will have to find your desk. Each desk has a name card on it, go find it and set your things down.”

The students scattered to find their seats, and one by one each seat was taken. Walking around flipping cards, you couldn’t find your name, luckily after a few more seats you were able to find your seat at the right edge of the tower.

After setting your things down, you heard someone walk behind you and sit down next to you.

“You again?” you ask.

“Stealing my words now? How low, l/n. When I said you should expand your vocabulary, I didn’t mean you should take mine.” Tom Riddle had sat in the seat to your right, tucking the note with his name on it into his robe.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Looking at him for a few seconds, waiting for his response felt like a one-sided staring contest, he never gave you a proper reply other than a hum.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face the professor who was setting new instructions for the class.

“Let’s get started quickly. Open up your textbook on constellations and stars and go to page 4 and find the constellation, ‘Capricornus’. Find the constellation using your telescope and map out it’s position using the instructions in your textbook. If you need any help, refer to the people around you and as a last resort ask me.” 

You looked at the surrounding people, a girl that was talking with her friend on your left, and on your right was Tom, who was already adjusting his telescope.

‘So I'm stuck in between a rock and a hard place,’ you thought, adjusting your telescope to get good luck at the night sky.

The rest of the class time was spent charting nearby stars and filling out small worksheets that the teacher had given out to the students that finished early.

After class ended, the students were led back to their classrooms, being watched closely by prefects so that none of them would loiter around the hallways.

●・○・●・○・●・●・○・●・○・●・

The months passed quickly as Autumn turned into early Winter. It was nearing Christmas, just a few weeks away.

Sitting down in the Great Hall, alone, you were flipping the pages of your Transfiguration textbook, rapidly writing down notes on the wrinkled parchment that you had laying on the table.

Professor Dumbledore had a Transfiguration test during your second period, and it was a written test rather than a physical test. 

Was it partially your fault for not studying prior? Yes it is, but it couldn’t be helped that the professors took the holiday time to assign more assignments than they did before, especially professor Binns. His assignments for History of Magic were more boring than his class.

The surrounding students started to leave their seats, signaling that class was starting soon. You had Charms first, and then Transfiguration. It was only Thursday, one more day, and you can relax for the weekend.

After your accident on the first day, you took your time and tried to gain the professor's favor in Charms by excelling in your lessons, and it worked. You might not have had the same level of favor as Tom, but you were getting there.

Being better than those three Slytherin girls made you happy either way, their taunting of your talents made you study and work harder until you were one of the first ones to perfect a Charm in the class.

In the spirit of the snow that was piling on the castle floors outside, the professor had a lesson that resonated with the seasonal changes that were happening.

“An Ice jinx, very simple really. The jinx itself makes a block of ice, but, if you use the stronger version, you can conjure multiple ice structures of different sizes. For now, you will work on one ice block.”

The directions had been simple enough, the incantation was, “Parva Glaciem”, and the students were left to try and succeed with the Charm.

You had a knack for mastering charms, and managed to perfect the charm with ease, earning praise from the professor.

He asked you to go around and help any students that seemed like they were struggling, and your eye was focused on one person in particular.

“Can I be of any help?” you ask.

“Depends, does your help involve hitting me in the face with an ice cube somehow?”

“It was one time, Archer! I’m doing this out of the good of my heart.” You sat down in the empty seat next to him and pulled out your wand.

“You have a heart, y/n? I find that hard to believe.” His teasing comment made you dramatically gasp and clutch your chest as if you had been hurt.

Over the past few months, you and Archer had grown closer. Since your flying skills weren’t the best, he had helped you every Friday after classes near the quidditch pitch. During those ‘tutoring’ times, he had given you tips on how to control your broom, how to stay on your broom if anything happens, and maneuvering techniques.

Most of the time was spent teasing each other about random things. He would make fun of your shaking hands around the broom as you flew higher and higher, and you made fun of him for not paying attention to where he was going when the both of you were flying around, causing him to crash into trees often.

In return for helping you with flying, you gave him tutoring lessons on subjects he struggled with. The main one was Charms, which you were fortunately excellent at.

“You know, I’m still surprised that you aren’t good at Charms, you seem good at everything else.” You motioned your wand as he watched your hand movements closely.

“I think you have me confused with someone else, y/n. I’m nowhere near perfect, maybe you’re thinking of Riddle over there. I heard he’s top of every class.” You looked to where Archer was motioning. The Slytherin area, where Tom was sitting. He had been talking to two other boys, which was odd, you always thought he was antisocial.

Focusing your attention towards Archer, you smiled and continued to help him with the Ice Jinx.

Unfortunately, no matter what you had tried, Archer still couldn’t perform the jinx properly. The most he could do was have a few pieces of cold air wisp from his wand.

“Okay, let's try something different this time,” you grabbed his hand and helped him with the motion of the jinx, the both of you were sitting so close, and to your surprise his hands were really warm, which helped with the coldness of the classroom, “now try it again.” You let go of his hands and watched him do the movement and recite the incantation.

A small block of ice appeared on his desk and he whispered a victorious ‘yes’ as you went back to your seat.

“Don’t even start, Naomi.” you said as you sat down.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything.” She held her hands up in a defensive motion, but the look on her face gave her away.

“I saw you looking at us, don’t say anything about this to Melissa. She’ll grill me for hours about the power of love.”

You made Naomi swear on it. When Melissa had heard about your flying lessons with Archer, it took her hours before she could stop babbling about the potency of your supposed ‘relationship’ with him.

●・○・●・○・●・●・○・●・○・●・

Another week has passed since that Thursday. You were in your bed reviewing the test that had been given back to you from professor Dumbledore.

For a person that didn’t study fully, you still had managed to pass the test. Maybe not to the best of your abilities, but it was still a pass.

Professor Dumbledore had grown fond of your magical abilities. Even if you messed up during class, you were quick enough to not let anyone notice and try again. He admired your willingness to get better, and you quickly became one of his favorite students.

Melissa and Azalea were both fast asleep, but Naomi was still up. She had a book in her hand and was reading it intently with her wand acting as a light.

You got out of your bed and headed towards the door, Astronomy was waiting for you.

“Leaving for class?” Naomi asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be back when it ends. You should get some sleep too, it’s not good to stay awake for this long.” Naomi gave you a small smile.

“I’d love to, but that frog that Azalea got in Diagon Alley is more than likely going to keep me up until it kills me, or I kill it. Don’t tell her that, though.” She held her finger up to her lips and went back to reading her book.

She wasn’t wrong. The frog that was stuck in a cage on Azaleas night stand hadn’t stopped croaking since she bought it, it's been keeping you awake for days.

You had gotten to the Astronomy tower a bit earlier than usual, maybe your tired state made you move quicker? When you opened the tower door, you saw Riddle sitting down on a stool near his desk, scribbling something.

Yes, the teacher had stools sent to the class because too many students had complained about standing through the whole class, some even managed to fall asleep standing up. The late night classes were not everybody’s forte.

“Early as usual, aren't we, Riddle?” you ask him as you slump your way to your seat.

“It's surprising to see you here this early too, l/n,” he stopped writing on his parchment and turned to look you in the face, his usual blank face turned into a disgusted one as he examined you head to toe, “what happened to your...everywhere.”

He most likely noticed your dark circles and lack of care in taking care of your appearance. Taking in a deep breath, you gave out the best explanation you could, “Azalea got a pet frog and it won't stop crying at night, no one's getting any sleep.”

“Why don’t you just.” he waved his wand around in an unknown motion, when you finally caught onto what he was implying you gasped.

“I will not kill a frog, especially one that belongs to a friend.” he rolled his eyes at your response and went back to writing on his parchment.

Taking advantage of the quiet atmosphere, you laid your head upon the table and closed your eyes. Class wouldn’t start for another 10 minutes or so, that was all you needed.

It felt like not even ten seconds had passed before your shoulder was being shaken. Groaning, you turned your head around to see your professor standing with her hands on her hips.

“Miss l/n, my classroom will not be used as a place for sleep. Please catch up with the lesson, and no more snoozing off.” She left the area you were in and went around to the other students who had watched the scene unfold, telling them to start working too.

After your eyes have adjusted to the scenery, you tap Riddle's shoulder rather harshly, making his head whip towards you in irritation.

“What do you want?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“It wasn’t my responsibility, serve you right for falling asleep in class.” 

It was partially your fault for trusting in him enough to wake you up in the first place. 

You took out your textbook from your bag and turned to the page about Jupiter's rotation around the sun.

The class had been mapping different planets for the past few weeks, and learning about their cycle around the orbit system.

You looked into your telescope to find Jupiter, but couldn't see it everywhere. All the other students had been writing things down on their parchment about the placement of the planet, but why can they manage to find it, but you can’t?

Adjusting your telescope a little more, you moved it around until you could see something in the supposed blank sky. After looking a little, you saw something red flash before your eyes as you maneuvered the telescope around.

Quickly turning back to it, you zoomed in on the object and as you looked at it more closely, your mouth gaped.

You once again went back to Riddle's shoulder and slapped it a few times, making him groan in annoyance.

“What could you possibly want now?” He asks irritatingly.

 “I found a heart.” was the only reply you could give him.

“A heart? How sweet, maybe you can show it to someone who will believe you, or go back to sleep, maybe you’re still dreaming.” He turned back to his desk, but was interrupted once again when you pulled him over to yours.

“Just look inside, I promise you’ll see it too.” 

Reluctantly, he took a hold of your telescope and peered inside. His reaction wasn’t as big as yours,, but you did see a shift in his expression.

“Well, it's not exactly a perfect heart, but it is shaped like one.” he took a step back and continued to stare at the sky.

“Do you know what it is?” you ask him.

“No, why would I?”

“I thought you knew everything.” you mock him sarcastically, which results in him mocking you right back. The both of you didn’t converse all that much afterwards, but you were entranced by what you had just found, and continued to look at it through your telescope until class ended.

You flipped through your textbook to find anything about it, but nothing popped up.

‘Maybe it’s in an advanced copy?’ you would probably be able to find something about it in the library.

●・○・●・○・●・●・○・●・○・●・

The next afternoon was spent in the library, rummaging through multiple books about stars and anything relating to Astronomy, but not being able to find anything.

There had been a stack of books on the table you were sitting at, and they kept getting bigger and bigger.

Reaching for one of the last books in your stack, you noticed the weird title it had.

“Wizard's guide to the dark stars?” you whispered to yourself.

As you skimmed through the pages, you landed on one that talked of a heart shaped nebula that resided in the eastern hemisphere of the sky.

It showed a picture of the nebula. It was similar to the one you had seen last night, although it seemed as if it was painted rather than an actual photo.

Below the photo gave a description of the nebula.

“There has been a phenomenon among young wizards where they have been seeing a heart shaped cluster among the stars at night. Said cluster, only being visible through a telescope, is said to look like a heart. There has been discord among many scholars in trying to explain what it could mean and where it came from. As time has passed, the explanation for the nebula has come to light. It is said that not everyone can view the nebula, only two people can see it at a set time, and only those two people can see it. It has been theorized that if those two people see the nebula together, they-”

The explanation was cut off. The bottom portion of the page was ripped off, and any other continuation was cut off as well. Closing the book, you thought to yourself. It sounded like a potential prophecy in the making, but there hadn’t been any reasonable evidence behind it, and if there were it was cut off.

The paragraph had said something about only two people being able to see it at a set time, you had to tell Tom what you had found.

Stepping out of the library and into the corridors, you walked along the hallways until you found Tom with a small group of Slytherins climbing the stairs to another floor.

“Riddle!” you yell, starting to run after him before he could disappear behind the wall.

He and the other boys looked your way, watching you run towards them in a hurry.

“Well well well, aren’t you a lost little Ravenclaw-”

“Shut it, Malfoy. I don’t have time for you today,” your voice was slightly haughty, making Malfoy's face contort, before he had the chance to say anything, you grabbed Tom’s wrist, “you’re coming with me.” And without a moment to spare, you dragged him to a separate hallway, far away from any students.

“This is considered kidnapping-” Tom barely got to finish his sentence before you suddenly stopped and faced him, your face a little too close to his for comfort.

“I found something.” you say, skimming through the pages of the book you had checked out of the library.

“Found what, and loosen your grip next time, you nearly tore off my wrist.” As Tom rubs his wrist, you push the page with the prophecy near his face.

“Remember that thing we saw last night? The heart. Turns out it’s a nebula, and it says something that sounds like a prophecy, but the rest got torn off. I was thinking, we have enough information to go around and find out what it really means-”

“Hold on. What do you mean, we? I don’t remember giving my permission to be dragged into this.”

“Funny story, since you and I saw the nebula together last night, we’re kind of in it together.” 

Tom looked uninterested, which was understandable. He didn’t really have an opinion on what he had seen last night.

“What makes you think I’ll help you? So what if I saw that nebula with you, I didn’t say I’d join this scavenger hunt of yours.” He turned around and started to walk away from you, but he didn’t make it that far before you cut in.

“If you help me, I won't tell anyone that I've seen you in the restricted section of the library late at night.”

Tom paused right in his step, he looked as if he was hit with a freezing jinx. He turned his head to you, his eyes slightly wide.

“How do you…” he began.

“For the past few weeks, I've been falling asleep in the library because of my lack of rest. Sometimes when I wake up I can see someone trying to enter the restricted section, and when I got a closer look, it was you.” you tapped the tip of his nose in a mocking manner.

“Would be a shame if someone like headmaster Dippet heard of a student going in the restricted section.” You crossed your arms and looked around the hallway, a small smirk was curling on your lips as Tom watched you.

“You’re...blackmailing me…?” he took a step back from you, eyes still slightly wide.

You closed the gap again, “Is that a yes or a no?”

You saw his nose scrunch up in anger, taking a breath before he answered, “very well...I’ll help you.” 

“Wonderful, we’ll meet at the tower tonight, at midnight.”

“Wait, tonight? Are you mad? Meeting that late without having a class will get us in trouble either way, no way am I-”

“You’re such a goody two shoes Riddle. Fine, I'll meet you right outside the dungeons near the Slytherin common room at 11:50, I’ll escort you to the tower. Be there or I won't be happy.” 

You skipped away from him, leaving him dumbfounded and alone in the empty hallway.

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfiction #voldemort #daddy voldy #hogwarts #harry potter #original character #hocrux #King of Hearts

[shera-dnd]

AND WE’RE BACK BABY! WHO IS READY FOR SOME ANGST?

Well you better be ready, because I packed this one full of it

The campfire crackled between them, fire lighting their faces and smoke rising into the night sky. Silence had fallen over their camp, and none dared to break it. Belladonna, the Black Cat turned Black Knight, held her knees to her chest, tail wrapped protectively around her body. Though she easily towered over her companions, now she felt so small and frail.

“I knew there was something wrong with Taurus,” Amitola spoke first. She could still remember the way Belladonna looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and how he looked at her like she was nothing more than a valuable asset.

“And I should have known much sooner,” Belladonna replied, quietly.

Weiss, for her part, stayed quiet. Amitola wasn’t sure if this was due to having her words taken from her, or out of respect for their conversation.

“He lied to us,” she said, and red tinged her skin as her anger rose, “he said the humans took you. That we should avenge your death.”

“Of course he did,” Belladonna sighed, though there was no disappointment in her voice, there was still sadness, “I shouldn’t be surprised that he turned my defiance into more fuel for his revenge.”

“When I saw you I thought...I thought you had faked your own death to escape us, that you had left us,” that you had left me, she thought, but did not dare say it out loud, “when you had only left him.”

“Could you claim you would have been more accepting?” Belladonna asked, looking her in the eyes, “that the court wouldn’t have slain me the moment I spoke of my plan.”

And once more there was silence, tense and agonizing. Holding the Black Cat’s gaze in that moment was like holding your breath, and there was only so long Amitola could keep that up.

“No, I cannot,” she spoke, red shifting into blue, “even now I doubt this plan will ever work.”

Belladonna let out a sad chuckle, “sometimes even I have my doubts.”

“Well, I don’t!” Weiss declared, breaking her silence. Though Amitola could only shake her head, the Black Cat looked at her with something almost like hope in her eyes. “You are a fae who has clad herself in iron, and refused to burn. You have done the impossible once, Lady Blake, I cannot see how you couldn’t do it a second time.”

“I appreciate your confidence, my lady,” Belladonna thanked, “but I have done nothing more than accept Lord Ozpin’s gift.”

“Then accept my gift as well,” Weiss insisted, taking the Black Cat’s hand. Jealous greens and reds marred her at the sight, “I shall take my father’s seat at the council, and my sister shall take Ironwood’s once she becomes the Witch of Winter. Together we can sway the council in our favor, we can reshape Atlas. We can build the bridge from our side too.”

Light returned to Belladonna’s eyes and she smiled, “I didn’t take you for the kind to have big dreams, Lady Weiss.”

“This isn’t a dream,” she countered, “it’s a plan, and my plans don’t fail!”

Amitola couldn’t help herself. “Haven’t your plans for the festival failed miserably?”

“Things have certainly not gone the way I expected, but I must say…” Weiss took her hands away from Belladonna’s and looked directly at Amitola, with a smirk on her face that set her skin into a riot of colors, “I much prefer it this way.”

Her body seemed to decide that yellows and pinks were the colors of choice for the moment, as much as the fae herself found it profoundly disagreeable, forcefully changing it back to its natural colors.

“This still doesn’t speak well for your planning skills, Schnee,” Amitola argued, “and here I thought your whole family knew how to scheme from birth.”

“Actually, we have a scheming tutor,” Weiss played along, “though I can’t say I paid much attention to mine.”

“I take it you were too busy daydreaming about sword fighting and rescuing damsels in distress to pay attention to your classes,” Amitola joked, finally getting her revenge by making the human blush for once.

“You are…not incorrect,” Weiss answered quietly.

This whole time none of them seem to notice the bright smile on Belladonna’s face. Genuine and full of joy, only growing as they continued to playfully argue. It was only when laughter escaped her lips that her cheer was brought to their attention.

“Are you well, Lady Blake?” Weiss asked, a little worried by the sudden display of mirth from the fae.

“I’m more than well,” she answered, another chuckle escaping her, “you two just reminded me of why I chose this path in the first place.”

Weiss looked oh so very pleased with herself, smiling back at the Black Cat. Amitola on the other hand was utterly disgusted at the implication, and at how happy it made the Schnee. She forced her skin to shift a sickly green, before faking a gag.

“Don’t be rude!” Weiss complained, nudging her with her elbow.

“Bite me, Schnee!”

Belladonna could only laugh at those two, comfortably leaning back and watching them go at each other once again, her tail swaying contently behind her. To see a Schnee and an unseelie play around like this, it made her mission feel just a little bit more possible, and the slightest hint more rewarding.

It was unfortunate then that Amitola did not quite see the value in Belladonna’s pursuit.

In the days that followed Amitola continued to fulfil her roles in Fennec and Corsac’s plan. It started simple, spying on the human nobility, taking on different faces so she could listen to their never ending gossip.

Then came the rumors, spread through words she spoke in the wind, or through faces that weren’t her own. Small things, little twists on the truth, small lies here and there to rile up the nobility. Soon fear would spread among them, the fear that there was a spy in their ranks, that one of the kingdoms was conspiring against the others, during a celebration of peace no less.

Amitola did not delude herself, she knew this wouldn’t be enough to spark a war between the nations, this was simply the first step, gathering wood so someone else may light the pyre of war. But once the fire was lit, she had made sure that it had enough fuel to keep on burning until Atlas was consumed whole.

And the Schnees along with it.

Not a month ago she would’ve been filled with pride at having a hand in the destruction of that damned family, and their accursed kingdom with it. Now it was difficult to find any joy in this. When every night she returned to that same smile from across the campfire, the smell of the meal she had prepared for them, the sound of that playful voice. It stripped her heart of any joy it could find, and in its place left only the terrible weight of guilt.

She knew peace wasn’t an option, that Belladonna had deluded herself, and that this could only end in war. This was her only option. If this could only end with one side destroying the other, then she had to make sure her side was the one to survive.

She had to do this. They had to burn so her people wouldn’t have to.

Even when Penny stumbled onto her again and again, every time offering little apologies riddled with that sweet giggle of hers.

They had to burn.

Even when the Branwen sisters sang and recited beautiful poetry about their home, their family, the people they love.

They had to burn.

Even when she saw that sparkle in Belladonna’s eye whenever she talked about the future and all the amazing things they’d achieve together.

They had to burn.

Even when Weiss smiled so sweetly. When she snarked and bantered with Amitola over something silly. When she gave Amitola space, because she knew when to back down. When she laughed. When they sparred. When she looked at her, her real self, as if she had never seen something quite so beautiful.

They had to burn.

But Amitola didn’t want to be the one to light that torch.

Days passed, and the tournament grew ever nearer, with now only two nights between them and the great event they had been waiting for. It was half heartedly then that Amitola continued her job, that she continued to don the faces of strangers and speak words she did not care to remember.

It was perhaps of this indisposition that she did not catch the pair of eyes that followed her as she left the tents of the vacuan emissaries.

“Lady Ilia,” called the last voice she wished to hear.

Amitola did her best to pretend not to hear it. She turned to leave, but there she was.

“I’ve been looking for you all evening,” Weiss informed her, “where have you been?”

“None of your business, Schn--Gigas,” Amitola snapped.

There was some annoyance in her expression, but she put it away and did not push. Curse her for being so understanding.

“How did you find me anyways?” Amitola continued, trying her best to stay angry at her companion.

“Mostly luck, but with some unwitting help from Lord Marigold,” Weiss answered, causing the fae’s eyes to go wide in attention, “he was attempting to spy on you for some gods forsaken reason, but I sent him scurrying away before he got the chance.”

Oh no.

How much had Marigold seen? How long had he been following her? Damn it all, if he saw something she couldn’t risk letting him tell anyone. But silencing him would require…

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. He didn’t see anything,” Weiss assured, offering Amitolla her arm, “how about I walk you back to camp?”

Or maybe she could ignore the little lordling for now. It’s not like anyone with any real power actually believes a single word he says. Oh, curse the Schnee again for having this effect on her.

“I...wouldn’t be opposed,” she sighed, resigning herself to a fate of wanting to spend time with a Schnee and genuinely enjoying it.

And so they crossed the festival grounds, arm in arm in a way that Amitola vehemently refused to acknowledge. Part of her worried that people were watching them, making assumptions as to the nature of their relationship, but it was clear the festival goers could not care less about a single minor noble and her little knight.

Weiss on the other hand was trying her best to not look profoundly pleased by this turn of events. She was failing miserably, of course, but it was clear that she was trying. Another curse, this time for being so endeering in her awkwardness.

“You know, I meant what I said,” Weiss spoke, quietly, so only the fae could hear it, “the festival hasn’t gone the way I expected it, but I think I’m much happier with how things turned out.”

Amitola did not answer. It was hard to, when it felt like Weiss had just impaled her heart.

“As a kid I always wanted to come to the festival. I wanted to be a knight like my sister, and compete in the Vytal tournament,” she continued, unaware of the pain in her companion’s heart, “this is my first festival, and I’m glad I get to enjoy it with you.”

They had to burn.

“This is my first festival too,” she informed, voice naturally even, as she did all she could to hide the turmoil building inside her, “my parents used to show me the tents when I was a kid, and they told me that someday, when I had mastered my glamours, I would get to walk among the humans and enjoy the celebrations with you.”

“They must be happy for you then,” Weiss offered with a smile, but she was wrong.

They had to burn.

“I’m certain that they would be.”

There was a question stuck between Weiss’s lips, something she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to, so instead she stayed silent. Thankfully they had reached their camp and Amitola finally had an excuse to escape the Schnee’s terrifyingly comforting touch.

“Where is Blake?” Amitola asked, trying to escape the topic.

“She plans to spend the night with Lady Yang,” Weiss answered, “I believe she wishes to tell her about her nature.”

“Of course,” was her only reply, now wishing for nothing more than sweet silence.

For a while Weiss obliged, focusing all her attention on making them both supper. Allowing Amitola to enjoy some momentary peace, even if her mind and heart denied her any. It was unfortunate then, that even this flawed blessing was also a fleeting one.

“That’s why you hate my family, isn’t it?” Weiss asked, though she already knew the answer, “we’ve hurt you and your family.”

“Always so clever, Schnee,” Amitola mocked, half heartedly, “yes, your family is the reason why my parents and my entire village are gone.”

Shock and horror spread through Weiss’s face, “I did not know.”

They had to burn.

“Of course you didn’t, you were probably just a little girl back then,” Amitola offered, “I was barely old enough to understand what was happening.”

She only noticed she was crying when she saw the stains from the teardrops on her dress. It had been so long and yet that memory still wracked her with such terrible sadness. Even back with Taurus, when he insisted that she allowed that tragedy to fuel her rage, she could not find any anger in her, only sadness. Anger and hate were things she had to learn.

“Your family’s men had pushed my village further down river, so they could open up a new iron mine,” she told her through the tears, “for a while we thought that would be it, that if we just lived our lives away from your people, that maybe we’d be allowed to live on,” a sad chuckle escaped her, “but things just couldn’t be that easy. One day that mine flooded, and the iron your father had mined now poisoned our river, and my village burned.”

“I’m sorry,” Weiss whispered, tears streaking down her face as well, “I’m so sorry.”

They...had to burn.

“I know.”

Amitola couldn’t look at Weiss right now, she couldn’t bear to see the genuine sadness and worry in it, so she looked away. So she was surprised when she felt Weiss’s arms wrap around her in the terrible comfort of a hug.

“I--I promise I won’t let anything like this happen again. I swear it, I’ll do everything within my power to keep this tragedy from repeating itself,” Weiss swore once more. Yet another on the long list of oaths she has made to Amitola.

And yet, this time, she believed her. She genuinely and truly believed every word Weiss said. She was a human, a Schnee, and Amitola couldn’t help but trust her implicitly. But that wasn’t the worst part - no - the worst part was the revelation that came next.

“They would have loved you, you know?” Amitola said, voice cracking with every word, “my parents. They would’ve been truly happy that I met you.”

Weiss pulled away, just enough to look into the fae’s eyes. Perhaps it was all the tears clouding her vision, but to her the Schnee’s expression was unreadable.

“I would have been honored to meet them.”

They...

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep tearing herself apart, she couldn’t keep doing this.

“Curse you, Weiss,” Amitola whispered, “why must you be kind? Why can’t you be the monster I always thought you’d be?”

Weiss wiped away her tears, looking at her now with clear confusion, “what?”

“Things would be so much easier if you were some hateful monster. It would be so much easier if I didn’t care,” Amitola accused as she shoved her away, “but you had to be so trusting, you just had to be lovely, did you not? You had to make this hurt.”

“Ilia, I don’t understand.”

“I betrayed you, you fool!” Amitola shouted, “I’ve been spying for the fae for days now, and you just let me, because you were enough of an idiot to trust me!”

Weiss tried to stand up, but roots and vines had grown around her legs while she was distracted.

“Ilia!” She called, desperately trying to get rid of damned plants.

“Curse you, Weiss Schnee,” she repeated, more softly, with every hope that Weiss wouldn’t hear, “curse you for making me love you.”

She left for the woods before she could hear her answer.

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #blake belladonna #angst #copious angst #medieval au #fanfic

[capricornus-rex]

Stronger Than Blood (7)

Chapter 7: Unlikely Prize | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

Also tagging @ayamenimthiriel​

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4  – 5 | Previous: Part 6 | Next: Part 8 | Masterlist

7 of ?

Cal charted a course back to Zeffo.

“Why’d you wanna go back there?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a good look of the place,” Cal shifts in his seat as he reasons out, sneaking a side glance at Greez to watch out for his reaction. “Because I blacked out after being caught into a stasis detonator.”

“Oh…” Greez moaned with guilt in stringing along his words.

You made yourself comfortable while the newly-patched up ship zooms through hyperspace. From the couch at the holotable, you watch the crew busy themselves with their dashboards and computers, while you’re stuck to staring at the planet’s map projection, though you didn’t mind—it felt nice to have everything staying still and quiet for a change.

The silence, the engine hum, and the faint chirps of the dashboard computers—altogether, it was nostalgic.

You were so used to the sparks of welding guns and blaster fire that the silence was completely foreign yet comforting. You allowed your back to slump against the smooth leather cushion, the engine hum lulled you to sleep like a lullaby, and the blue light glared back at your eyes, making it feel heavier by the second.

However, the latter was immediately cut off by Cal stepping into the room with you.

“Hey, how you holding up?”

“I’m okay, just exhausted from all of… this.” you gestured at everything, referring to the skirmish back at Nalima and even repairing the Mantis did a number on your strength.

Cal sat down next to you, but he didn’t initiate a conversation. Unmoving, you examined his features: his freckles gave him a certain charm, your eyes trailed along the waving locks of his hair—the blue glow oddly mixed well with his ginger head—but what really catches you is the awkward motions he does with himself such as slouching against the couch, shaking his knee, or fiddling with the chipping of his glove.

Both of you know perfectly well that there is that one topic that’s been crawling at the back of your minds. Either of you were just waiting for the other to bring it up. Cal was too shy to bring it up. As for you, the topic was an odd conversation starter—especially if you’ve only known the guy for only a few hours.

“Back at Melgu’s place,” Cal finally started. “He called you a Serennian.”

“Yeah, I am one,”

“How’d you end up in Nalima?”

“It’s long a story,” you sighed, lightly combing your scalp with your fingers, staring at the holotable with blank eyes to avoid looking back into Cal.

Sensing that it was a bit of a hard topic for you to open up. He decided on another question.

“Were you…” he trailed off, that was enough to draw your attention back to him. “Were you ever a Jedi?”

You shake your head, “No, but… they tell me that I’m strong with the Force. I’ve only known so little about it that I honestly don’t grasp the concept in full, really.”

“Who taught you about it?”

“My mother, but she wasn’t like me. I was told that I was more sensitive, for some reason that I don’t know or can’t explain or don’t understand at all. I only knew one other person who was like me… but I don’t want to be associated with him.”

The voices, the exchanges, the words—they all rang back into your head. The conversations of your parents that you overheard, they were mostly about politics—a subject you couldn’t comprehend for your age that time.

“Apparently, that one person who is like me is a Separatist leader,” you scoffed, resenting him. Fully remembering his name from the hushed, private whispers of your mother; never has she said his first name, only his title in full—with the original family name—or simply the title alone. “And he’s no ordinary Separatist leader. He wielded a weapon like yours. A lightsaber, as you call it.”

In an instant, he put two and two together.

Cal reminisces way back to the Clone Wars, he had heard of the name from various conferences where he tagged along with his master back in the Jedi Temple. Although he and Master Tapal never had the opportunity to face him whether in combat or in a diplomatic negotiation, this particular lightsaber-wielding Separatist leader often found himself the talk of the town amongst the Senate and Jedi Council alike.

The mere recitation of his name stoked the embers of hate and anger that you have always carried for him. Your conviction that he was the one behind the murder of your mother remained unwavering all these years—her death may not be by his blade, but her blood spilled into his hands anyway.

“All my life, the only name I knew and carried was [Y/N] Moorken. I believed it to be my family’s name, but when he said our name was altered, I realized that my mother was dissociating us—my father and I—from him. I remember her telling him that I was better off never knowing him at all. I’ve heard everything—what he’s done, especially back in the Clone Wars, and I promised myself that I won’t turn out like him.”

You pull your legs to your chest, hugging your shins with your arms and resting your chin over your knees; you couldn’t maintain eye contact with Cal, your mind dwelled on the memories of those heated exchanges, the spitting of words, until it reached to the point where the sight of the shuttle exploding—with your mother in it and perhaps the assassin as well—forced you to conclude your flashbacks.

Cal noticed your flinching, but both of you sat in silence. For one, he was relieved that you had told him sooner; you had your reasons—one of them being that you sensed Cal that he was trustworthy enough, it was a combination of intuition and the Force trying to guide you in baby steps.

“Does this change anything on how you think of me?”

Your straightforwardness took Cal aback. It took a lot of guts from you to speak so bluntly like that, despite it being quite a heavy topic for you to disclose. He couldn’t imagine why you would think that he—or any of the crew—would shun you for who you are… or were, at least.

That was the only time you looked back into his eyes, playing into a turquoise to teal hue from the illumination of the holotable. You hate yourself for bringing up more detail, although you couldn’t help it; you have been looking for an outlet—such as someone to open up to—and you simply let loose. A sigh concluded your piece, half-expecting Cal to react and the other half expecting him to say nothing.

He shakes his head, “No, it doesn’t. Though, it just… rather adds up to my perspective of you.”

“Right…”

The two of you remained in your seats, a quake that signaled the Mantis’s landing, it prompted the two of you to stride towards the door. The entry ramp opened and a cold gust of wind greeted you. A few droplets of the rain carried by the clouds riddled your cheeks, as if that’s the planet’s way of kissing you welcome. Goosebumps pelted your skin due to the abrupt change of temperature—from Nalima’s warm and temperate climate to the gusty windstorm of Zeffo.

“I’ll be away in a few minutes, this shouldn’t take long,”

“Where will you go?”

Cal points to his north.

“I won’t be long there, unless of course I end up winding into the wrong way,”

You chuckle, “I doubt it.”

“Are you coming with?”

You stammered at the beginning, “I just might take a look around this part. I wouldn’t wanna end up too far away.”

Cal ended the exchange with a curt “Alright then” and headed off. When he was gone, you had the space of the hangar to yourself. You walk to the west part of the platform and you had a full view of the waterfalls cascading with one another, their water black yet their foam white as clouds—as if the night sky had become the floor of this planet until the true evening falls.

Your shoulders jumped when a roaring TIE Fighter zooms past the horizon above the waterfall plateau. You watched it come and go like a comet in the gray skies until it disappeared into the mountain’s backside.

“Huh, no surprise there,” you thought out loud.

You turned around and sprinted towards the derelict hangar. It was devoid of life, but for a scavenger this may as well have been a gold mine! Crates upon crates towered over your height, some were flimsily blanketed with tarps that weren’t long enough to fully conceal them, exposing the Empire’s sigil tattooed in white paint on the boxes’ faces beside the label of its contents.

Using the hem of a tarp to wipe off the dust that’s collected on one side of a crate, you reveal the white Aurebesh label beneath the grime, the label reads: PROJECT AUGUR – RESOURCES.

The first two words were intriguing. You pulled away the tarp that covers its lid, you opened to find a medley of parts that were of great variety. Picking each one up to examine them and then returning them when they didn’t attract you that much, you went on rummaging through the crates for something that you could use. After all, it’s not like the Stormtroopers will notice.

“Do they even keep a track list of these stuff?” you scoffed, examining an odd-looking part that somehow resembled a piston but you knew full well that it wasn’t.

You didn’t notice the rust-colored blast door at the other end of the hangar until it resounded loud enough for its echoes to bounce across the natural stone walls. You jolted in response. The feeling of the unknown behind that door made your heart wild.

Out of the blue, it would’ve appeared that the wind had gained a voice—an incoherent yet audible sound fluttered with the stale wind. The air hummed—hollow and foreboding—but something about that door gravitated you to it, luring you closer until your fingertips touch the controls. The pads of your first two fingers rested on the button, you hesitate, that is until the air whispered to you again—you could’ve sworn you heard your name.

“Darling…? My darling [y/n]?”

You abruptly twirled to your back, eyes wide and frantic as they search the empty hangar. The voice uttered your name again, this time you turned to the door, hoping to find the face of that voice.

“Mom?”

You pawed the blast door, hoping that she’d call again; you finally pressed the button, the door whizzes open but you’re met with an empty corridor. Unbeknownst to you, the path and hallway laid out to you was not the real one. It was the Force testing your senses and perhaps your mental willpower.

“Darling, where are you?” Jezria’s melodic voice sounded almost too ghostly, but you didn’t notice. You’re too caught up with the idea of reuniting with your mother—even if she had been dead for years.

The illusion was so surreal, too enticing even, that you lost track of things—perhaps even your senses as well—in the expense of seeing your mother another time. You spot her, but she continued to go ahead of you, a gaping distance divided mother and child.

“Wait! Mom, wait for me!” you cracked. Chasing her through the long hallway that doesn’t seem to cease in length.

Jezria, of the shell of her anyway, kept on walking. Her back to you as she continued forward.

“I’m almost there!” you announced, though unsure whether you’re announcing it for your mother or coaxing yourself to keep on.

You came upon another door, thankfully the end of the tunnel, but as you opened the second door, the next place that you reached made your small yet eager smile dissolve.

You stand in the midst of a manor’s hallway. In a single glance, you easily identified that the architecture was of Serennian make. The gray marble floors, the finely embroidered drapes along the tall windows, and the expensive-looking deep purple wallpaper with light wooden paneling that was glossy to the touch. You know this interior even with your eyes closed.

It’s your house.

“Home?” your eyebrows furrowed so much that your forehead wrinkled. You surveyed the area, and then behind your back, the same rust-colored door remained. “I don’t get it…”

Nevertheless, you strode through the hallway, following your mother’s trail.

“Foolish child…” a faceless voice hummed along the walls.

“Who’s there?!” you violently spun.

“What weak resolve,” it continued.

“Where are you!?”

“Like mother… like daughter,”

You clenched your jaw and fists, slowly turning around while surveying the entirety of the hallway.

“Show yourself!” you snarled.

“Had you been surrendered to me, then things would have been significantly different. Your mother and father would still be alive. You’d have so much power in your hands that—not even in your current age—could fathom its real meaning down to its last fiber.”

“No, you’re wrong!”

A figure appeared from the curb around the end of the hallway. It was him.

“Count Dooku.”

Even for an apparition, he seemed satisfied to hear you utter his name. He took it as a greeting and bowed curtly with a smile making his white beard more angular.

“So, you finally decided to speak my name. No matter how many times my idiot sister tried to eradicate my very existence from your life.”

You reached for your staff and immediately drew it out to its full length. Count Dooku’s apparition chuckled, amused by your naïve courage.

“Oh, child, you do not understand what is right in front of you, don’t you?”

“Does it matter? I’ll destroy you either way. You had my mother killed!”

“Puh!” Dooku harrumphed, the aristocratic air loomed around him that it’s basically his aura. “Jezria was weak. Always trying to put a façade that she can never hold up! Incapable of protecting herself and ultimately her own daughter!”

“Stop it! Shut up! You don’t know anything about her—neither do you know anything about me!”

“I don’t need to. Once the Emperor has you in his grasp, with my mission complete, I have granted him a prize: my own niece, strong and powerful in the Dark Side of the Force!”

“I am nothing like you!” you roared. “I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU!!!”

——————————————————–

In the middle of his roaming, something piqued within Cal enough to stop him in his tracks. From the cliffside, the cold gale muffled out the abrupt, rhythmic thunder of the pulverizers, but that windstorm didn’t do much to stunt Cal’s senses with the Force. Peering over the black waterfalls below, he tried to reach out, albeit briefly, just so he could pinpoint whatever’s troubling him.

“Bee-chirp?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, just… had a feeling. Got worried for a second,”

Cal continued his way to the Imperial headquarters, upon his entry, all of the Stormtropers had their backs turned to him—whether facing the way ahead or keeping their noses stuck to their computers. He slipped into the elevator and slammed the up button. He got to the upper level, he prowled through the ventilation shafts. The Stormtrooper’s idle banter revolved around the subject of complaining that they got nothing to do in the planet and wanted to be assigned to another, where there ought to be action.

“Did you hear that?”

Both Stormtroopers’ heads panned across the room, searching for the source of the sound—which was Cal landing on the balls of his feet against the metal grates.

“Probably just those typical exhaust bursts from the fans,”

“Shouldn’t we report that? I mean, won’t that blow up?”

“Nah.”

Cal continued to stalk in the shadows, away from the enemies’ sight, just when he had his chance to strike, their hands immediately jerked up and pressed against the ear area of their helmets. He thought he had been spotted, but he stood corrected.

“Still, it’s better if we—wait, I’m getting a radio call here!”

“Me too! What the… Jedi?!”

The young redhead’s eyes widened upon hearing the words. He knew whom they’re talking about.

“She doesn’t have a saber though!”

“So, she isn’t Jedi?! Then what?”

“It’s the fugitive from Nalima! But we’re being called as reinforcements at the caves,”

“Ugh hate that place!”

Cal watched the enemies depart via elevator, en route to the ice caves.

“[y/n]…!” he exclaimed under his breath.

Luckily for him, Cal knew the shortcut—he just needed to pass through that Purge Trooper with a rifle.

Meanwhile you were facing off the swarms of Stormtroopers coming wave after wave on you. Thanks to that delusion, you didn’t realize that you’ve wandered off into the abandoned village. But your outburst at the end has caused another energy wave exploding out of you, disorienting and alarming the stationed Stormtroopers in that very area.

So far, you were able to fare quite well against them even with just your techstaff; with the adrenaline of the outburst, you felt like you could do this all day, not once did you feel tired. The voice of Dooku in your head—as much as you hated it to hear him—coaxed you with every move, distortedly affirming and encouraging your every attack.

“That anger is your best weapon. Show no mercy! Let the Dark Side of the Force give you the power you so deserve!”

“Get out of my head!” you snarled as you fought, not caring whether or not the Stormtroopers heard you.

As for those troopers with blasters, you evaded them—utilizing both the self-defense skills you’ve learned through the years, amplified by the Force with which you couldn’t harmoniously bend to your will yet.

Eventually, the soldiers in white armor have stopped pouring in, but their horde was replaced by a singular Purge Trooper wielding twin batons. This enemy’s body may be lithe, but here was a lethality that he imposed upon the way he projects himself to his victim.

“Well,” he snarled. “You’re no Jedi, but you are a prize for the Emperor!”

You didn’t exactly grasp what he meant by that, though it didn’t matter—your survival did.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #force-user! reader #force-sensitive! reader #sith-related! reader #star wars #star wars fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order fic #sw #sw fic #swjfo #swjfo fic #sw jfo fic #sw jfo #jfo #jfo fic #anon #for anon #anon request #anon prompt #anon ask #request #fic #fic request #requested by anon

[queerchoicesblog]

Until My Very Last Breath

Folks, the Ancient Greece wlw miniseries suggested by @jackievarma for the wlw writing project has come to an end. I hope you enjoy the latest update even if I am afraid you would have preferred a different one but it seemed to me the most suitable for the story. Although being immortalised a rebours as an Edenic celebration of lesbian love, the truth about Sappho's thiasus is slightly different and a bit less sunshine and rainbows.

If you do happen to like this miniseries, please consider spreading the word!

Next week a new miniseries set in the Italian Renaissance will be posted, stay tuned...

Previous chapter: Underneath The Stars

------------------------------------------------------ As moons gone by, Kleanthis and I grew closer and closer. Our love didn't combust, burning away in lust and desire. If anything, the mutual hunger we felt for each other and made us languish when apart only fuelled a deepest connection of mind and souls. Kleanthis completed her journey as a student and started a new one as Sappho's protégé. She assisted her with the new students, teaching them the basics of dancing, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever I caught the way those girls looked at her. I couldn't blame them though: I had never seen a woman as beautiful as her. I'm sure even Helen of Troy couldn't hold a candle to the perfection of my love. Kleanthis always teased me about my jealousy: to be honest, never once I had to doubt her loyalty. She still had admirers but -she assured me- her heart belonged to me only.

The same could be said for me. I grew into one of the most promising student of the thiasus and my rising popularity and blossoming beauty provided me a fair share of girls constantly at my side, adoring. However, there was only one girl I would sneak away with to see the dawn by the sea. The tender look in Kleanthis's eyes as she strummed her lyre, her raven curls sprawled in my lap, was all I was willing to live for. Tasting the softness of her lips, hearing her laughter, holding her slender hand: I couldn't ask for more. There were others couples like us in the thiasus. Some girls weren't romantically interested in their companions, others just followed their hearts' desires without committing to one friend in particular, and a few of us felt that need after some time. I wanted to be hers and hers only and Kleanthis expressed her desire to make an oath to Aphrodite to be mine. The celebration of our promise and oath took place at the temple. Sappho herself recited a sacred blessing and we wore flower crowns. The girls played the lyre and sang songs for us to evoke the favour of the goddess on our union and I found myself wondering if the sparkle of joy I felt inside was what nana meant when talking about weddings. Is that how a bride feel on her wedding day? Kleanthis and I performed together for several moons, our voices and grace enchanting whoever stopped to listen. I heard that some students wrote poems about us: apparently, our loving communion and chemistry inspired them. We were Muses, we were lovers. We made offerings to the goddess and bathed naked and free in the sea before running into each other arms ever again as if pulled by a godly force. We never once missed a rose-fingered dawn. Until that morning when Kleanthis wasn't there. An uncomfortable tingle spread through my body as I start searching her. I looked everywhere, asked around but I couldn't find her anywhere. That night I went to sleep praying she would come find me, casting away the anguish tightening my chest. She didn't but I found her the morning after at the beach. I went there at dawn and there she was. She was looking out into the horizon, standing at the water's edge. She didn't see me as she was giving me her shoulders. I called her name. When she turned, I knew she had cried: her dark eyes were puffed and red. In her hands she was holding a note. Unable to see her suffering like that, I run towards her and cupped her face, begging her to tell what sorrow crossed her path. Bad news from the family? A vicious threat? "Speak to me, my love", I whispered, peppering her cheeks and forehead with kisses. When she spoke, her melodious voice cracking under her grief, I went pale. "Your father wrote. He found you a husband. You'll leave before the next moon" I vividly remember feeling a pain so intense as if a dagger pierced my chest. No, it can't be. Say it's not true. Laugh, Kleanthis, don't cry. You love teasing me and make fun of how easily I believe your witty jokes. You loved it, at least. Stop it now and laugh. Your sweet laughter that made my knees weak and filled my hear with the sweetest affection. Laugh, Kleanthis, I beg you, laugh and tell me it was a bad joke! But Kleanthis didn't laugh, she fell to her knees and hugged my waist. She cried, wetting my tunic with her tears. None of us paid attention to the rose-fingered dawn that morning. I demanded a private meeting with Sappho and asked her to help me. Desperate, I begged her on my knees to let me stay: I didn't want to sail back to Athens, Lesbos was my home now. I was an excellent student, I could have studied more and become a teacher or a priestess. Just like Kleanthis. There must be a way I can stay, I suggested. My teacher frowned. It wasn't that easy, she couldn't go against the will of my family and so couldn't I. The wedding had already been agreed and scheduled. My mind raced back to all her teachings about how love is the most important thing in this world and the love for other girls was equal to the love for a man. I believed her words, we all did and they set us free. Why now her hands were suddenly tied? "So what is this? Was it all...a fraud?" I heard myself asking, following my train of thoughts. No, it wasn't, it isn't, she said. But we weren't supposed to spend our whole life at the thiasus. Only few were picked to become acolytes, the majority of the girls who came to Lesbos's shores were sent back to their family and their new marital lives when their time came. Tears of rage and grief formed at the corner of my eyes when I asked what about love? Wasn't it a reason valid enough to stay? She presided a cult of Aphrodite, she taught us so. True, but it was different for her, she winced. And what we learned on the island would have helped us in our adult lives as women, no longer girls. We had secured the blessing of the goddess and that was her will. "Then your Aphrodite is a tyrant mistress I no longer wish to serve" I exclaimed before storming off, tears rimming my cheeks. --------- I reminisce only fragments of the old hymns and odes we used to sing at the thiasus. Only a few are stuck indelibly in my mind and will be till the time I cross the gates of the underworld. I will always remember the one I whispered, my cheeks wet with tears, when I was sitting on the boat dragging me away from the island where my heart laid. I knew Kleanthis  was watching me sailing away from her against my will on the shore. So I sang, I sang for her, hoping that my voice, albeit cracked, could find her surfing the winds. I claim I've always been a loyal companion You must know that And I beseech you, be sure I will love you until my very last breath

#original work #wlw writing project #wlw writing #wlw miniseries #lgbtqa+ #ancient greece

[andiandyandee]

We Are Going to Be Friends Pt. 8

Check it out, I finished the stupid chapter, and it’s not even angsty. (Or in other words, the chapter where we establish that Roman and Logan are completely hopeless and also Logan is soft (tm)

Words: 1681

Here’s the Series on a03

Heres the last part

Tag List: @datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

Let me know if you want tagged! Please Reblog this, without reblogs I don’t get feedback and without feedback you can expect fewer chapters because I’m less motivated to write. 

Anyway here’s the fic:

    By the time they actually finished working through Remus’s English work, it was dark outside, and the crowd downstairs had grown considerably. Where there had at one point been only a few, there were now easily twenty teenagers downstairs. When Logan and Remus walked into the living room, the crowd was, in fact, singing broadway songs. Remus adamantly refused to join in, and Logan didn’t know them, so he too just watched them sing, slightly bemused. Once they had ordered pizza, 10 of them, as a matter of fact, the songs died down and the whole group was mostly just laying around, several conversations happening at once. Logan wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, occasionally making a quip or answering a question, but mostly just curled up on the couch, glad to be anywhere but at his parents' house.

    His relaxation was cut short by Kai flopping down on the couch next to him, his head in Logan’s lap.

    “Give me attention.” Kai groaned, shifting uncomfortably. Logan instinctively started playing with his hair, which is what he usually did with Alex when she got like this, but he couldn’t help noticing the way Kai was grimacing as he tried to get comfortable.

    “Are you… In pain?” Logan asked quietly, handing Kai a pillow to help elevate his back a bit.

    “Oh. Wait, give me less attention than that.” Logan raised an eyebrow, “It’s fine, just EDS.” Kai replied, obviously hoping Logan would either be too embarrassed to ask or too proud to admit he didn’t know something.

    “Oh, do you have your braces? Or pain meds you need to take? I would be willing to get them for you.” Kai looked at him, mostly shocked, but also confused.

    “You know what EDS is? How do you know I even wear braces, maybe I don’t.”

   “Yes, I am vaguely familiar with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, as a member of my typical social group also has it, though theirs is the vascular kind, rather than the classic type you appear to have. And based on the constant bruises to your hands, wrists, elbows, which are all in the shape of typical bracing equipment, along with the fact that you regularly wear long sleeves or gloves to hide your braces when you do wear them,” Kai made a face at that, “plus you are, currently, wearing a knee brace, I thought it might be an easy jump to make.” Logan had kept his voice so low, it was unlikely even Remus, the closest to the pair, could hear them.

    “My meds would be great, but I don’t want them to see me in my braces. I’ll put them on before I go to sleep.” Logan pinched his face up, but with the benefit of being exceptionally tall, he also had a far longer reach than most, which meant he easily grabbed Kai’s bag, handing it to him.

     “These people are your friends, you know. They wouldn’t mind you wearing something to make you more comfortable. It’s not embarrassing to show that your strength sometimes needs a little help.”

     “Don’t you mean it’s not embarrassing to show weakness?” Kai grumbled, sitting up.

    “Did I say it’s not embarrassing to show weakness? I don’t think I did. It’s horribly embarrassing to show weakness, I would know.” He grinned conspiratorially at Kai’s confusion, “Remus saw me cry like an infant less than 12 hours after meeting me. This,” Logan gestured at the braces and pills in Kai’s bag, ignoring the way Kai looked at him when he admitted that little tidbit of information, “this is not weakness. It is incredible, but vulnerable, strength. And there is no shame in them knowing that you are strong, even if you need braces to, as my acquaintance October would say, ‘kick someone’s ass’.” Kai turned slightly red, mumbled something about kicking his ass if he didn’t stop with the feelings, and pulled his wrist and hand braces out of his bag.

    Kai had eventually gone back to the floor, now trying and failing to flirt with a girl Logan didn’t know but thought might be named Lauren. Remus had moved closer to Logan, leaning against the couch and was occasionally making subdued quips about something ridiculous. Mostly just random facts or commentary on the things the group was doing.

    “Lo! What music do you listen to?” Roman was holding his phone, clearly looking for something to put on. Logan turned red, realizing that pretty much any song he enjoyed would not work with this crowd as it did with his usual acquaintances.

    “I.. don’t think any songs on my average playlist would be suitable for this particular group of people.”  Roman nodded, as if that made sense.

    “Ah, Logan likes that pg-13 music. Should have guessed that.” Logan rolled his eyes, but Roman put on Fall Out Boy with a smirk, and Logan shrugged.

    “My typical music tastes are a little more.. riot starting than this, but sure.” Roman raised an eyebrow at that comment, and then grinned in a way not unlike Remus’s smile, too wide, a little maniacal.

    “Logan Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Is Starr I refuse to believe you have ever, once in your life been involved in a riot. You’re definitely a ‘Use Your Words’ kind of guy.”  Logan replied, without thinking, with the same joke his friend group made every time someone said they ‘seemed like the type to use their words.’

    “Urine Speaks Louder Than Words,” and then, as if they weren’t already the exact opposite of what the group expected, he followed it up with, “Besides, cops, Nazis, bigots, and assholes all respond better to being kicked in the face.” The chunk of the group who was listening all had wide eyes, but Remus was trying to hold back tears. He was laughing so hard he wasn’t making noise, just tiny, wheezing breaths every few seconds. “I uh... Mean... yes, certainly, a debate is the reasonable course of action to achieve our goals.”

    “Remind me to not piss you off.” Roman squeaked,  his cheeks and ears a little red. Logan, who was trying to avoid eye contact, took this as fear, and immediately went to assure Roman that he would not hurt him, but then somebody got the idea to play truth or dare, which Logan politely declined participation in, which mean of course he was now sitting in a circle on the floor playing.

    “Logan! Truth or Dare?” Dahlia asked with the slightly evil grin most of the group had when asking Logan or Roman to do anything. He had a feeling they were trying to accomplish something, though Logan could not for the life of him figure out what it was.

    “Oh, Dare, I suppose.” Logan shrugged. So far they had dared him to demonstrate his “Strength” by lifting Roman bridal style, had him recite Shakespearean sonnets dramatically, and sing “Fall for You” which was a little too emo for Logan, but several of the group seemed to know. The truths were far more awkward, like asking him his favorite eye color, which was brown, his sexuality, which was queer with no more specifics, if he had any crushes, which he had admitted he hadn’t thought about and did not have an answer for.

    “Let me do your makeup!” She demanded, already pulling a makeup bag from behind her.

    “That’s fine, I suppose. Are you planning on using foundation or eyeliner?” She nodded

    “Yeah, probably. I have some lighter foundation I use on Elliot sometimes.” Logan rolled his eyes, Grabbing his own bag.

    “That won't be necessary, we can use mine. I’m far paler than Elliot. And much cooler-toned, at that.” Roman was looking pink and starry-eyed again.

    “You.. you wear makeup?” He asked in a small voice.

    “Yes, I often wear foundation or concealer, and wear eyeliner regularly on weekends.” He gestured at his face, which now that Roman was looking at it closely, he could see that there was makeup there. Logan looked at Dahlia with a neutral expression. “Would you prefer I take mine off before you begin?” She nodded.

    He went into the washroom and removed his foundation, which left his dark circles and light freckles visible. He scrunched up his nose at his appearance before coming back into the living room, where Dahlia had turned the lights on in, and everyone had dismantled the truth or dare circle. “Are.. we no longer doing truth or dare?” Logan asked with a confused look around.

    “No, I think we’re just going to do makeovers now. All the straight boys are offended about it.” Dahlia grinned as Logan sat down. “Jesus, Lo, have you ever slept in your life? You look like Remus with those circles.” Logan rolled his eyes fondly, handing her his make-up, which was really just foundation, concealer, powder, and eyeliner. She got to work, walking him through what she was doing, though he had to admit he wasn’t paying much attention. Roman was getting his makeup done by Elliot, Remus was doing someone's makeup, but Logan hadn’t cared to remember their name. The night was domestic, a few more jokes about Logan’s comment, twenty minutes of laughter when Dahlia revealed Logan’s makeup and Roman choked on his drink, barely getting out an ‘it looks good’ before he left to get a shower and change to clean up after spitting orange soda into his lap. Logan had felt mostly embarrassed at that, not sure why Roman had had such a negative reaction in the first place. He thought the makeup was well done, though perhaps the red lips and dark blue glitter eyeshadow was a little more dramatic than he was used to. They watched movies until it was nearly light outside, which Logan complained about, only a little since he had plans in the morning, and when Logan left at 9 AM, picked up by Micheal, one of the seniors Logan hung out with most often, in the 1986 pick-up that was more rust than it was metal at this point,  he was in a relatively good mood.

#logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logince #eventual logince #teen au #punk au #sanders sides #men in makeup #discussions of illness #discussions of fighting #ask to tag #ask to be tagged // #my writing

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 6 - Wine Clears My Head

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 4.2k words

Chapter 6: Wine Clears My Head

You followed Weong-Bin to a bench on one of the streets, where he motioned for you to sit down. Reluctantly, you did so, and Weong-Bin sat right beside you. You leaned back against the bench, glancing over at Weong-Bin as he looked around the area. There was a moment of silence, but he turned to you.

           “Hungry?” he asked.

           “No,” you said simply. “What do you want to talk about?” Weong-Bin sighed, running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

           “Can I start by asking what happened to your hands?”

           “I burnt them this morning.”

           “On what?”

           “Coffee. Now can we continue?” Weong-Bin rolled his eyes.

           “You’re so clumsy, Jesus.” He muttered.

           “I’ll leave if you want.”

           “No, no! Okay… You know I meant what I said yesterday, right? About wanting to get back together.” You were hesitant but nodded.

           “I know.”

           “I really do care about you…” he said gently.

           “Well, you have a funny way of showing it sometimes.” You admitted.

           “I know, I know.” He sighed. “I’m not happy with how I act when I get frustrated.” A moment of silence fell over you, and you watched people pass you by. “I only want what’s best for the girls. It’s always been that way.”

           “I know that.” You said simply. “But if you want me back so bad, why did you cheat on me back then??” Weong-Bin took a deep breath.

           “I was upset…. we were going through a lot of stuff with…well…” he cut it off there. “You know.” You nodded in agreement as you rubbed your arm, eyes falling onto your lap. “I just did it. And I regret it.”

           “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.” You said softly. Weong-Bin let out a deep sigh, and he sounded frustrated through it.

           “…Okay, fair…” he said. You glanced at him, and you couldn’t help to once again think back to the good times, even when those good times became few and far between. Weong-Bin’s job made him wealthy, he showered you and eventually the girls with anything he could think of. You went on trips, you ate at the most expensive places, you went to fabulous parties for his work. It was a nice life and you couldn’t deny any of that. But, with every good memory that flooded into your mind, three negative memories came in and swallowed them whole. Arguments, doubts, name-calling on both ends, affairs, that horribly messy divorce…You didn’t know if you wanted to risk going through that again, hell, if you even could handle it again.

           “There’s a part of me that wants to believe you, Weong-Bin.” You admitted. “I want to be a family again for the girl’s sake but…I can’t. I just can’t.”    

           “…Is it because of Hoseok?” you sighed, shaking your head. “What’s even your relationship with him now?”

           “I don’t….” you paused. “I don’t know. But regardless, he has absolutely nothing to do with my choice.” Weong-Bin didn’t look convinced with your answer. “Besides, it’s like I said, you sprang this on me out of nowhere.”

           “I didn’t want to do that.” He said. “I mean it when I said that I had the entire thing planned out. But after I saw that you and Hoseok reunited, I’ll be honest, it pissed me off and I…. well, I overreacted.”

           “Yeah, I know.” You said simply. Weong-Bin turned to you, and when you turned towards him, he gently took your hands into his.

“I’ve always loved you. That’s never changed. I loved being a father and a husband and working man and….it was all so perfect and I curse myself every day that I fucked it up. I want to make it right.”

           “Weong-Bin…” You mumbled. “I…. I need time to think, at least.” You said. That was it, Weong-Bin had enough. He let go of your hands and turned away from you, staring ahead as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked irritated and inconvenienced.

           “Come on!” He said. “After all that?! I said all the right things, and I mean them!” He said. When he saw your shocked expression, he quickly stopped himself. Coughing into his hand, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-.”

           “This is exactly why I won’t take you back.” You said simply, standing up. “I believe you meant everything that you have told me, but it’s this yelling and the way you talk to me… I dealt with it for so long, and I can’t do it anymore.” You felt a lump in your throat. “I only tolerate you now because you gave me two kids, but if they weren’t here, I’d never want to hear from you again.” You fixed your bag. “That doesn’t strike me as a good sign to be in a relationship with you.” Weong-Bin sighed, leaning back against the bench.

           “…I’ll change your mind. You’ll remember how happy you were with me, and you know it.” He said simply, looking at you. Hearing that made you chuckle.

           “My point exactly.” You said simply. “Call Min Ja tonight, she’s still hurt you left. I’ll see you Wednesday night…” With that, you made sure to cute the conversation off there and turned around, speed walking to the train station. You didn’t bother looking behind you, as you quickly hurried onto the platform. While you waited for the train, you sent a message to Yuna saying that you would be home soon, and to meet at the apartment.

           When you got to your apartment, Yuna was already inside using her key. She was given an extra just in case of any emergency calls, and you were grateful that you made that decision sooner rather than later. Opening the door to the apartment, you saw Yuna sitting around the coffee table with the girls. The girls were coloring, and Yuna seemed to be getting some studying done.

           “Oh Yuna, you’re a lifesaver.” You sighed, dropping your bag on the floor as the girls looked up.

           “Mama!” Hyo Bin shouted, looking up at you as you walked over to the table. “Look! It’s a kitty!”

           “A kitty, wow.” You hummed. Min Ja walked over to show you her picture as well.

           “Mine is a picture of you!” She said happily. You smiled, taking the picture as you kissed her forehead.

           “Yuna, I’m so sorry this was so sudden.”

           “No, it’s okay.” Yuna assured. “I just hope everything is okay.”

           “Everything is fine.” You assured. “Again, I really appreciate it.” Opening your pocketbook, you pulled out the money you promised and handed it to her. She didn’t want to take it at first, but you reminded her that you hired her to be paid, so she kind of had no choice. With a smile, Yuna stuffed the money into her bag.

           “Mommy, Yuna said she wants to be an idol.” Min Ja said as Yuna got up to get ready.

           “Oh yeah?” You hummed, glancing at the teenage girl. “An idol, hm?”

           “Yeah, I’ve been going to auditions. No luck yet.” She said, chuckling a bit. “There’sauditions coming up for JYP Entertainment, I’m going to try my luck there.”

           “She’s super good, Mommy. I want to be an idol too!” You couldn’t help but chuckle at Min Ja’s enthusiasm.

           “Well I wish you luck, Yuna. You’ll do great~!” You smiled encouragingly. The teenage girl blushed, smiling a bit.

           “Thanks. I’ll be heading out, then.” Yuna said. “Bye girls.” She waved as the girls hurried and gave her a hug, which she happily knelt down to accept it. As you wrangled your girls into your arms, kissing them each, you waved Yuna out the door. Once it was just you and the girls, you lied on your back and groaned, covering your face. It wasn’t long before your girls hopped onto your stomach, making your grunt.

           “Mommy, why were you late?” Min Ja asked.

           “I had to work.”

           “Is that why Yuna picked us up?”

           “Yes.”

           “Oh.” Min Ja looked at Hyo Bin, who snuggled herself onto your chest. You smiled, running a hand through her hair as Min Ja continued to talk, switching the conversation to what she did during her time at daycare. As you listened to her, you heard your phone begin to ring. Sitting up, you scrambled towards your phone and opened it. Weong-Bin was calling. Assuming it was for Min Ja, you answered it.

           “Hello?”

           “Are you home yet?”

           “Yes. I just got in a few minutes ago.”

           “Let me talk to Min Ja.” He said. Without a response, you turned to your daughter; she was looking at you with a curious expression.

           “Min Ja, Daddy is on the phone.” Her eyes lit up as she took the phone into her hands.

           “Hi Daddy!” She said eagerly. You watched as she talked to her father, your hand still going through Hyo Bin’s hair. You could hear Weong-Bin’s voice faintly on the other end, apologizing for leaving the recital, but saying the Min Ja did a wonderful job. Though Min Ja was still upset, talking to her father definitely lifted her outlook on the entire situation. After some time, Min Ja hung up the phone.

           “What did Daddy say?” you asked curiously.

           “He said he was sorry and that he would see us soon.” She nodded. “Then he told me to hang up the phone first. So, I did.” Rolling your eyes, you took the phone back and checked the time. It seemed like now was a good time to get the girls bathed, and then you would start dinner up.

---

           That talk with Weong-Bin was no help. If anything, it made everything a lot worse. If Weong-Bin had kept his cool attitude straight through until the end of the conversation, you had to admit to yourself that you may have been singing a different tune. But you knew that was how he was, being sweet as a button one minute, but it took one thing that he did not want to hear to set him off. He was like a child in that aspect. With this weighing on your shoulders, you couldn’t focus on anything. It was bringing your mood down, it was bringing your energy down…you didn’t feel like yourself, and it was bothering you. When you got like this, it was only up to a few hours you would go through the motions, and then be fine. But now, it had been almost four days. Tonight, the girls were with their father, leaving you alone in the house. You figured this was a good time for some self-care.

           You drew yourself a bath after dinner, sitting in there until your fingers and toes became prunes. The wine was prepared, you had your fluffiest pajamas out and ready to envelop you in their warmth, and Netflix was already pulled up with a variety of shows to watch. Hopefully, this would bring your mood up or at least make you feel less shitty. The bath was helping so far, relaxing your muscles and putting you at ease. So, it was a good start.

           As you finished up your bath and slipped into your pajamas, you fell back onto the couch. After filling a glass of wine, bundling yourself up in a warm blanket, and flipping through Netflix, you allowed the glow of the TV and the warmth of the wine to envelope you.

           “This is fine…” you mumbled to yourself, snuggling deeper into your blanket, and put the wine glass to your lips. “I need alone time.” Alone time left a chance for thoughts to come creeping into your mind.

           I want to be a family again.

           You responded to that thought by taking another drink of your wine.

           I really do care about you.

           Another sip.

           Is it because of Jung Hoseok?

           More.

           I will change your mind. You’ll remember how happy you were with me, and you know it.

           Two more drinks. Before you knew it, your wine bottle was almost done, and so was your head. It was swimming, but no longer from your intrusive thoughts. You had come to realize how you were spoiled with Hoseok visiting you when the girls were with their dad because now that he wasn’t there, you didn’t like the silence of the living room. It was something you had forced yourself to tolerate before, with your family living too far away, Nayeon keeping herself busy with school, and Taehyung’s job taking up a lot of his nights. Jungkook and Seokjin were most likely busy with school and work…That just left you, a sad sack in her fluffy pajamas and getting tipsy on wine while thinking about your love life.

           “I can’t handle this.” You finally said, lifting up your phone. You scrolled through your messages until you fell upon Hobi, who was at the top of your messages list since he was the last person you talked to. You were talking about possibly meeting up for dinner soon, and you had recommended the restaurant that Seokjin had worked at. He was pestering you to attend ever since he got the job, and you were trying your hardest to make time. You hesitated for a moment. The last thing you ever wanted to do was to become dependent on Hoseok. After all, he was a single guy with single friends who were most likely out having a good time. Just because you made the decision to stop partying and going out when you had Min Ja, does not mean everyone else did. Staring at his contact information, you decided one text wouldn’t hurt.

           Hey… (Sent 8:45 p.m.)

           Setting your phone down, you fell back on the couch, nuzzling your head into a pillow. Your eyes stared blankly at the TV from now on, you weren’t too sure at this point what you were watching. The last movie had ended, and something new popped up in the queue. You were almost certain this was something you had seen before, but you had no strength anymore to change it. You didn’t even react at first when you heard your phone buzz underneath your body. Groaning, you shifted a bit, pulling the phone into view to see Hoseok’s name and selfie blaring bright light into your face. He was calling you. Quickly, you answered.

           “Hello?” You groaned. You heard Hoseok hum when he heard the grogginess in your voice.

           “Are you okay?” he asked curiously.

           “Yeah…I just wanted to text you.” Hoseok could notice you were starting to grumble and slur some words. “I was a bit lonely tonight with the girls at their dad's.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You chuckled a bit.

           “You must be buuusssyyyy.” You cooed, your voice slurring as you reached out for more alcohol. “If you weren’t, the first thing out of your mouth with be if you could come by.”

           “Heh, you must be drunk.”

           “Mmmmm, maybe a little.” A giggle escaped your lips. “I’m…sorry I bothered you.”

           “Oh, it’s okay. I was just preparing some stuff for work tomorrow.” He admitted. “It sounds like you need to go to sleep.”

           “I do…” you said softly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep though.”

           “Because you’re drunk on wine?” he teased. Another giggle escaped your lips, and Hoseok couldn’t help but smile.

           “No….” you hummed. “Weong-Bin has been getting into my head again…” Hoseok’s lips almost immediately turned into a frown, and he sat back in his chair. “I don’t think I told you, but at the recital, Weong-Bin said that he wanted us to be a family again.” Hoseok blinked, trying not to give an over the top reaction.

           “What did you say?” he asked curiously.

           “…Well, I told him no….” you said, feeling your throat tighten and your eyes cloud with tears. “But he keeps calling my phone and texting me asking to talk to him. The other day he showed up at my work and worried the hell out of my coworker. He’s been worried for me ever since, the poor kid. I feel so guilty. And the girls have no idea what’s going on, but it’s been like four days and I’ve just been in such a rut. And I know that they know I’m not myself, you know?” A sniffle interrupted your rant, and you felt your throat close up for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. “And I burnt my hands the other day and they still hurt and nothing I’m doing to cheer myself up is working and I-.”

           “Okay, okay.” You heard Hoseok quickly cut you off, and you stopped almost immediately. Your eyes were red and puffy now, and your heart was pounding in your chest. Was he tired of hearing you vent? He was busy after all. “I’m on my way over.”

           “What?” you sat up, sniffling. “N-no, you don’t have to do that. I just wanted to call for a few minutes. Besides, your work-.”

           “I’ll bring my work with me and do it there. It’s just paperwork and applications for the next session. Portable.” You heard the rustling of papers on Hoseok’s end, and you sniffled again. “Just stay by the door and I’ll let you know when I’m there.”

           “I’m sorry…” you hiccupped.

           “Don’t be sorry.” He said gently. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” With that, the two of you hung up. As silence filled the room again, the faint glow of the paused Netflix screen being your only source of light, you stood up off your couch. Dragging yourself to the door, you unlocked the knob and opened the latch, allowing Hoseok easy access when he arrived.

---

           “I’m here.” Hoseok chimed gently, knocking on your door. When he didn’t hear a response, he tried to open the door. He was surprised to find it was unlocked but stepped inside. “Hello?” He hummed, stepping into the apartment. Sliding off his shoes, he closed and locked the door before making his way into the living room. He called your name with a gentle, and worried tone in his voice.

           “I’m on the couch.” You called back, just as Hoseok saw you. You were still curled up, stuck in that one position on the couch that you put yourself in after unlocking the door. He walked over, seeing you on the couch, a quarter-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, and a wine glass that was empty as well.

           “So, you must be really drunk.” Hoseok hummed, lifting up the wine glass and bottle. You glanced up, your eyes following him into the kitchen as much as they would allow before giving you a headache. Your ears told you what your eyes could not, that he dumped the rest of the wine out and put the glass in the sink to be cleaned. “When was the last time I saw you drunk? We were what, 19?” He teased, a smile forming on his face as he walked back to the couch. You pulled your knees up to your chest, allowing some space on the couch for Hoseok to sit. He turned on a table lamp before he sat beside you, and placed all of his work on his lap.

           “Iiiiiiiiii think so?” You slurred, trying your best to think back. “I stopped drinking after I got pregnant.”

           “When did you start again?”

           “After the divorce.” You hummed, and Hoseok responded with a breathy chuckle. “I haven’t been really, really drunk though. Tipsy, sure, but…” you had to stop yourself to groan.  

           “Well that’s what you get for drinking a whole bottle of wine.” He said, flipping his little folder of work open. He was skimming through some applications.

           “I have a lot on my miiiiiind!” You groaned, nuzzling the pillow under your head in defeat. “I know I’m going to regret it tomorrow.” Hoseok smiled a bit. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you do your work.” You hummed.

           Nothing was said after that. Hoseok did his work for a little while, while you silently lied beside him. You had since turned off Netflix since you weren’t even really watching it anyway. There was nothing in particular that you wanted to say to Hoseok right now, just knowing that there was a body next to you in case you needed to speak, made you feel much more at ease than any bath or fluffy pajamas. Hearing him scribble away on his work, while also humming and making simple sounds of intrigue at every application that he looked at was like music to your ears at that moment, and that was most likely what sent you to sleep.

           When Hoseok finished with some of his work, he was starting to get tired too. His eyes wandered to the digital clock on the TV stand, and he saw that it was pushing 11 o’clock. Setting his folder onto the coffee table, he stood up off the couch and looked towards you. He saw you were already sound asleep, your chest lightly rising and falling with every breath that you took. He noticed your body had to be contorted in order to make room for him to sit, and it’s been a few hours, so he was assuming that you were far from comfortable. Kneeling down, he gently reached out and shook your shoulder.

           “Time to wake up.” He cooed, smiling gently as he heard you groan. “Come on, let me take you into bed before I head home.”

           “Don’t goooo, Hobiiii.” You begged, your eyes still half shut as you struggled between slumber and alertness. Hoseok chuckled a bit. “I’m lonely….”

           “I know, but you’ll be up and at work tomorrow, so it’ll be okay. Let’s get you to bed.” He helped sit you upright, and your eyes finally opened all the way, scanning the room with a tired and still drunk expression on your face. Hoseok chuckled. “How cute.” He cooed.

           “Stop.” You pouted, nudging him. “Let’s just go…” you stood up, scratching your hair as you felt the blanket drop back onto the couch. Hoseok led you to the bedroom turning on the light before watching you shuffle to your bed. “Mmmmm….” You groaned, plopping down onto the comfort of your mattress. Nuzzling into the pillow, you felt Hoseok grab the blanket from the end of the bed and toss it over you, falling onto you and covering you in a warm embrace. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled.

           “I told you not to apologize.” You heard Hoseok respond as he stood at the side of your bed. “Now, head to sleep.”

           “Will you stay?” you asked softly, glancing up at him with a pout on your face. Hoseok sighed, putting his hands on his hips. He smiled down at you.

           “Just go to sleep. I’ll hang around for a bit.”

           “What time is it anyway?” you hummed curiously.

           “Almost 11.”

           “Oh…” You sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s so late. I don’t want you to travel in the dark.” Hoseok smiled more, watching your body begin to relax as slumber and your drunk state was beginning to take over you. “Promise you’ll stay. My couch is comfortable.”

           “I know…” He chuckled.

           “My bed is comfortable tooooo~.” You giggled a bit. “But I’m already in it~.” Hoseok felt his cheeks hit up a bit, but he began to laugh, an attempt to cover up any embarrassment he may have been feeling. “Mmmm, but you’ll take the couch. Because you’re good.”            

           “I’ll go get you some water.” He said. You heard him leave the room, and you hummed, nuzzling into your pillow. Your head was still pounding, and you lied down in your bed, gripping the pillow tightly as you tried to keep yourself awake until Hoseok came back.

           When Hoseok returned to your room, water in hand, he tried to make his way in as quietly as he could, in hopes of not waking you if you fell asleep. When he approached your bed, he set the water down on the bedside table and tilted his head to look at you. In a short amount of time since he had exited the room, you had fallen back asleep. This time, instead of being curled up on the couch, you were sprawled out on your bed as you snored the minutes away. He knew now that he wouldn’t be able to wake you up if he tried.

           “Oh, what am I going to do with you, hm?” he hummed, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face. The touch only startled you, but it didn’t wake you up. You just shifted, groaning a bit, but you continued to snore in your dream-induced slumber. Knowing that you were asleep, Hoseok quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

           Hoseok found himself in the living room, and it was quiet. He looked around the room, putting his hands behind his head as he tried to think of what to do. He groaned, sitting on the couch as he ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t too sure how long he decided to sit there, his mind glancing back towards your bedroom door from time to time. After what felt like forever, he looked towards the clock and saw that it had only been 45 minutes since you had entered your room and fell asleep.

           “Well, guess there’s no helping it.” He hummed, standing up. He walked to the door, checked that it was locked, before walking to the couch and laying down, tossing the blanket over him, resting on the pillow, and staring at the ceiling until he too, was able to fall asleep.

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[raybansandcoffee]

Adventure of a Lifetime: Chapter Ten

You can locate the first nine chapters HERE.

“So are you going to tell me now about you and Jeremy?” Frankie asked. I’d been right. She had slept in my room. We stayed up late talking, getting about two hours of sleep before Frankie’s crazy-ass internal clock woke her up which meant she woke me up. Thankfully, she went and made coffee and delivered me a cup before sneaking up to her room to shower. She knew just how cranky I was in the morning without my magic bean juice. She was now laying on my bed with wet hair, black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and a plaid shirt. Her makeup wasn’t done yet she still looked way better than I would even after I was done getting ready.

“Why do you think I’ll tell you this morning but wouldn’t tell you last night?”

“Because you’re usually much more talkative when you’ve had time to internally freak out about a situation for a few hours, which I’m sure you’ve been doing.”

“No, I haven’t.” I had.

“Liar.” I was.

“We are just friends. Last night was nothing.” It wasn’t nothing, it was everything? Okay, maybe that was too much. It was a really great first date, calling it nothing diminished how I felt about it. But honestly, I didn’t want to have my sister analyzing it this morning.

“Last night wasn’t nothing. If last night was nothing you would’ve freely given me details to the night without hesitation. Your hesitation shows me it’s something. Was last night your first date?” She’d now come into the bathroom where I was putting my makeup on while my hair was wrapped in a towel on top of my head and hadn’t gotten dressed yet.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you haven’t been on a first date since you started dating Patrick. I haven’t been on one since I was 18. The idea of a first date makes me want to break out into hives but I’d be really excited for you.”

“Yes, it was our first date,” I begrudgingly told her. “He technically asked me out on a date like two weeks ago and I found every excuse humanly possible to delay it. Last night I ran out of excuses.”

“Why would you want an excuse to not go out with him? He seems really great, in addition to the obvious that he is super hot.”

“First dates also make me want to break out into hives The last first date I went on I was in my 20s still and it was Patrick who I’d known for ages through mutual friends so it wasn’t really that intimidating. Outside of that shit, I don’t need to add more complication to my life. I need to focus on the kids. I don’t need to worry about having a life. I just need to provide for the kids, do my work, and that’s it. I don’t need the rest.”

“You might not NEED the rest, but you fucking deserve it. Charlotte,” she sighed. She never called me Charlotte. As a little kid she couldn’t say it because the double T gave her trouble, thus all of the nicknames. Plus my Dad loved that his girls had typically male nicknames and were named after his two favorite uncles. “Charlotte, honestly. Do you really believe that you are just supposed to be their mother and nothing else?”

“I mean, no. But the judgement I get when I attempt to have a life is just something I can’t deal with.”

“Who the fuck is judging you? Honestly. It’s not me or Ryan. Dad and Mandi both would support you in opening your heart again and finding love. Tony won’t pass judgement on anything, he’s 22 -old with no future plans living in his sister’s guest house. And clearly our mother has no room to judge anything. She packed up the house and moved to a different fucking continent when you were 13. Who else has an opinion that matters?”

“People.” I didn’t want to get into it. Frankie was a beast when she was in an argument and knew she was right.

“Is it Jane or Robert?” I shook my head. “Are you afraid of what Patrick will think?”

“Of course not. I understood why he left. The life I have is not the life he wanted, I mean it’s honestly not the life either of us wanted it’s the one that was handed to me.”

“And you did the most honorable thing I’ve ever seen and took it without any complaint and all you did was love those kids. Who on Earth are you worried about? Charlotte, who is it?” I refused to look towards her and into her eyes. “Is it Alex? It’s Alex right?”

“No, of course not.” I paused for a moment before shrugging. “Yes, it’s Alex,” I replied sheepishly.

“Alex is just a bitch. I mean I love her but she’s an incredible bitch a lot of the time.” She tried to keep her voice low in case Savannah woke up. She didn’t want to risk trash-talking her mother because honestly we both grew up with a lot of adults trash-talking our mother and it made life difficult. “Alex is still jealous that Sam and Michael trusted you with the kids. Which baffles me, has she somehow missed how upside down your life has been for the last year? Every plan you had in life changed because of one night. But it’s Alex. She fully expected when that will was read at Dad’s the morning after that it was going to say the guardianship of the kids went to her or at least someone in Sam’s family. She didn’t expect it to be you.”

“No one did, except me and Dad. I knew I’d answered yes when they asked and had to sign a form agreeing to it. Dad was their attorney so he drew up the will. Which they updated fairly regularly. It seems super weird for someone my age and I made fun of Michael for doing it when he was 30 because it’s a thing I really only imagine old people doing but because Michael lost both of his parents young he wanted everything in place. He lived in flux between aunts and uncles and grandparents for so long he wanted to know that there was somewhere stable for the kids to go.”

“I knew they were coming to you. Sam asked me if it was wrong to ask you. She respected that you didn’t want to have kids but she also didn’t want anyone else to raise hers if something happened to her. She knew of everyone in her life you would be the person who would raise them in the way she would. You would let them grow and learn and become who they were meant to be, not what someone thought they should be.” I hadn’t known this. Sam never told me she consulted my sister and Frankie never told me that she knew I’d said yes. She let me go on and on about how the societal pressures of motherhood on women in their 20s and 30s were ridiculous and listen to my feminist rants and my Gloria Steinem quotes about how I was never having a child, not ever for any reason possible would I become a mother. “I told her that there wasn’t anything in the world you loved more than family and those kids were family. Well that Ellery was family, they weren’t even pregnant with Axel yet.”

“They are my family. They are my universe. I always thought all of you were crazy about the ‘it’s different when they are yours’ bullshit. I get it now. You know how much I hate admitting that you are right. But you were so right. They aren’t even mine and it’s different.”

“They are yours. Ellie calls you Mom. Axel’s first word was Mama and he said it to you. You didn’t just get handed Sam and Michael’s kids, you essentially got handed their lives just without a partner to do it all. You opted to sell the LA house for obvious reasons, but you could’ve kept this place and stayed in the city. You’re still dealing with everything that weekend thrust upon you. Getting kids and PTSD in a weekend is no fucking cake walk.” I had been diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder shortly after they died. Seeing their house when it was still a crime scene with evidence markers, crime scene tape, and just about every horrific thing your mind can come up with if you’ve ever watch an episode of Law and Order. Then being the one to identifying their bodies because Sam’s parents weren’t in LA yet and I wasn’t sure Jane and Robert could handle doing that. I definitely didn’t handle it well, but I wanted to save them that pain. Taking part in planning the double funeral of my two best friends was so hard I wanted the San Andreas fault to open up and swallow me whole. Then becoming a Mom, that wasn’t something I’d ever even imagined being possible. It was a lot in the span of about four days and had left me a mess. A year’s worth of weekly therapy and I was doing a lot better though I still wasn’t great and obviously still dealt with residual trauma, like my nightmares. “I don’t blame you for moving here.”

“Seriously? You’ve been mad at me for 11 months for moving.”

“I know and I still am, but for purely selfish reasons. I miss having one night a week where I got to leave my kids with my husband and have dinner with my sister. I miss that on Saturdays in the summer we’d all somehow end up at Dad’s to swim without planning it and we wouldn’t go home until I had to put the kids in bed on Sunday night. I miss that if I wanted to see you that it was a short drive and you didn’t just exist on the screen of my phone. I miss having you at soccer games and dance recitals. I miss our coffee dates in the middle of a work day. I miss our brunches with way too many mimosas. I just miss you, a lot.”

“I miss you too.”

“I do also know that you bringing the kids here was probably the best decision for you and those babies. It gave you a chance to remove yourself and the kids from the immediate aftermath of the nightmare we all lived through. You didn’t have to run into friends at Whole Foods who look at you with sad eyes and try to pretend like it didn’t happen. Trust me. I’ve gotten those looks when I run into your friends. They ask how you are doing, some ask how the kids are, they all pretend that you didn’t become a mother because some crazed maniac murdered your best friends. It fucking sucks and every time I get in the car and cry about it I am just so thankful it wasn’t you in the store and that it was me.”

“The few times I’ve been back in LA that’s happened. I miss Los Angeles like crazy sometimes but honestly not running into people who know me has been nice. That happened once here. It was over winter, I ran into someone from college at the grocery store, they were here on a family vacation. It was awkward but it was only once. Los Angeles feels like a small fucking town now because I literally can’t go anywhere when I’m home without running into someone.”

“If you still lived there I think it would be easier but you’re starting to get happy here. Is Jeremy part of that?”

“I mean I haven’t known him that long. But having another adult human to talk to is really nice. I mean I see Jane and Robert, which is nice. But it’s still kind of awkward. I don’t think there will ever be a time that I talk to them when it isn’t 100% about the kids or how they are doing without Sam. Robert isn’t sure he wants to go to LA for the trial. Jane is going, she’s staying at my condo. Until there’s an answer to that and closure I don’t think they will every move through the stages of grief. While I still miss them every day I had to get to the point where I didn’t lay in bed crying every night because Sam and Michael were gone. I had to take care of the kids.”

“How often do you see them?”

“Once a month when I drop the kids off at their house. Which I really need to start catching a plane to LA for those weekends every month. Last month when they were gone wrecked me. Savannah spent the weekend with the dude she’d been seeing. Being in this house when it was completely silent was too much.”

“Maybe that will be different now that you have someone in your life that isn’t Savannah or the kids.” My sister shrugged. I knew she was happy to see that I’d put myself out there to even attempt to build relationships here. Even if it was just a new friend.

“Maybe, I don’t know. He’s going back to LA next weekend for a while. His ex-wife lives there and they share custody differently when school isn’t in session. So it’s not like I really need to be concerned about it. He’s going to leave and I’ll be here.”

“Well you’ve been talking about coming home for the trial. Maybe you do that. It gets you to LA for longer than a few days. Bring the kids back home for a while. Relax. Get some sun. Give me my sister back for a while.”

“I mean it will be hard to relax considering I’ll be there for a murder trial. Sort of puts a damper on a vacation.”

“But if you come back for a couple weeks or a month it will only hopefully be like a week of it. Plus we can do Ellery’s birthday in LA.”

“I’ll think about it.” She sighed. “Just finish getting ready. I know you brought your makeup over here so you could have an excuse to spend time with me this morning. So just do your makeup and let me do mine. And don’t sigh at me about this.”

“I just miss you and would love to have you home for part of the summer.”

“Like I said. I’ll think about it.” We finished getting ready both eventually drying our hair and attempting to curl it. Watching her in the mirror next to me made me laugh inside. She was who taught me how to do my makeup and do my hair. Our motions were almost identical. The only difference was her hair was much shorter than mine and I always settled for a more subtle makeup look than she did.

“Good morning, girls,” Mandi said as she walked into my room.

“We’re in the bathroom,” I yelled back.

“You both look beautiful this morning.” She sat in the chair. She was fully dressed. Her hair perfectly curled and makeup perfectly done. “Charlie, you might want to put some more clothes on.” I was in a pair of booty shorts and a t-shirt that I only slept in.

“I’m gonna put clothes on but since you two have been secretive about what we are doing today I hadn’t picked out clothes yet. I know I’ll need to be dressed a little nicer for our dinner tonight.”

“No, you won’t. We will just be eating here,” Mandi said. “Your Dad wants to do homemade pizza night like we always used to do when you guys were kids.”

“That sounds perfect. So we’ll need to go to a grocery store at some point today. Start setting this place for everything this weekend.” I could tell Frankie was already building a grocery list in her head.

“Do you know how many people will be at dinner tomorrow night?” Mandi asked.

“Umm. Our family which is 11, Jeremy and Ava make 13, Alex’s family makes 18, Jane and Robert are 20, plus their family which makes 23. I’m prepared for 25 in case Sam’s cousin brings her boyfriend. When I talked to her last weekend she wasn’t sure. I also wanted to make sure that if Savannah wanted to bring her boyfriend that she could.”

“And Saturday?” I looked to Frankie for an answer; she’d been the one keeping track of that.

“We estimated like 35ish but it could get up to 50 depending on if assholes that didn’t RSVP showed up,” Frankie answered.

“50 people in my house? Who the fuck did you and Alex invite?”

“The list we agreed on. Alex had a few extras she thought might want to be here. I thought she cleared that with you.”

“Of course she didn’t,” I replied. “What was the total list you sent out? I got at least 15 or 20 emails or texts from people who couldn’t come.”

“I think the total was like 80.” Frankie shrugged.

“I hate this. I don’t want that many people in my house. I don’t have the space for that many people in my house. I don’t like being around that many people unless I absolutely have to for work or the kids.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mandi said. “Your Dad and I will be here to take care of you.”

“Beyond the whole ‘I don’t like people’ aspect of this, my house is not big enough for that many people. My kids will be completely overwhelmed by that many people. And the last thing they need is people crying to them about how their Mom and Dad died.”

“It’ll be okay. Most of it is outside,” Frankie said. She could sense I wasn’t just anxious but I was angry. I was trying not to blow up because I knew it wasn’t completely her fault but she and Alex had invited all of these people to my house when I really just wanted a small gathering of the closest friends and family. I didn’t need a large party of people.

“Alright girls, let’s calm down. How about we leave the house for a little while?” Mandi suggested. “We can go get mani/pedis and maybe grab lunch somewhere. Just the three of us, hell the four of us. Let’s grab Savannah.”

“Are we sure we can leave all five kids with Dad, Ryan, and Tony?” I asked.

“They’ll be fine,” Frankie said. “The three of them on the five of the kids will be fine. The girls will probably all end up playing with Barbies or something and it’s not like Ryan hasn’t changed his fair share of diapers in the last decade.”

It didn’t take long before we were finished getting ready. I threw on a pair of jeans that had probably too many holes in them We kidnapped Savannah, left instructions on feeding lunch to the kids with my Dad and brothers and we were out the door. We all climbed into my Jeep and took off towards town. I’d opted to leave the GLS at home in case the men decided to take the children anywhere. They’d at least mostly fit in it. We grabbed coffee from my favorite coffee shop before heading into the salon and being seated for pedicures. It was actually really nice to have time today with just Mandi, Frankie, and Savannah. I rarely ever got girl time that didn’t involve the 5-year-old girl in my life. I felt my phone vibrate in my lap and picked it up to see a text message from Jeremy.

Good morning, Gorgeous.

Oh. Gorgeous huh? One date and we go from you calling me Charlie to pet names.

I mean, you are gorgeous so it’s more like an accurate description than a pet name.

How did you sleep?

As good as one can when sharing their bed with their older sister. I told you she’d sleep in there. Kept me up WAY past my bedtime to try and get details on what last night was and who you are in my life.

Better you than me. I came home to two very whiny dogs.

Bring them today as long as they promise not to maul my cats.

Harrison could kick the shit out of either of my dogs.

True story. He’s a chonky fucker.

Chonky?

Yes. Chonky. If I call him fat or chunky I’m shaming him. He’s chonky. It’s a term of endearment in the cat mom community.

You are one of the strangest people I know.

So what time do you want me to come over today?

Well, right now I’m getting a pedicure with Mandi, Frankie, and Savannah. We are going to also get manicures and then lunch. So I can text you when we are done. I mean you’re welcome to go over there now if you want to hang out with my Dad and brothers. I’m sure they would be at least half as annoying as the women are right now.

Why are they annoying?

This is the line of questioning I’ve received today:

So was last night a date? How long have you and Jeremy known each other? How did you meet? Did he kiss you at the end of the night and if so was he a good kisser?

I’d continue but my sister is starting to ask questions that I’m essentially answering with the middle finger.

Okay. Now I need to know those.

My sister is nosy. She wants to know if you’re a good kisser, which I didn’t disclose that I’d kissed you so she’s making assumptions. They are correct, but no less they are assumptions.

She’s funny and she will definitely make a great lawyer if she decides to practice and not stay at her non-profit.

For the sake of the world, I hope that this is just so she has another set of letters after her name and not so she can practice law. She’s terrifying.

So did you answer any of the questions?

Ugh you are just as bad as they are. I did finally confirm that last night was a date. Frankie started bugging me about it last night when we went to bed and all morning.

No answer on if I’m a good kisser or not.?

The answer was a middle finger.

You’re cute when you’re angry. You’re tiny and filled with rage.

You are barely taller than me! So just shut it.

Okay. I’ve been caught. Frankie says hi but if I don’t stop texting you she’s stealing my phone.

Text or call me when you’re on your way home. I’ll come over to meet you there.

Okay.

For real. If you’re bored just go over to my place. My Dad and Ryan are harmless. Hell my Dad will probably end up making you talk music for hours on end. The kids are all at home with them.

Not worried about me around your Dad without you?

Nah. I like you. I’m just refusing to give information to the women because it drives them crazy. My whole plan was for everyone to get to know you today.

I’m glad you like me. I like you too.

And you are a good kisser. So live with that knowledge while I refuse to share it.

You’re a good kisser too. I sort of regretted not staying last night by the time I got home.

You should learn to trust me. I’m always right.

You also have such a fucking ego. Enjoy your pampering, and I’ll see you in a few hours.

“You’re so smiley,” Savannah said. “I can’t even tell you how happy that makes me.”

“So, since she won’t spill everything, what can you tell me?” Frankie was determined to learn what she could about Jeremy’s role in my life.

“Umm, Jeremy’s daughter Ava and Ellery are best friends. He’s a great dad, super-nice, and has been a lot of fun to have around. Charlie is smiling more but I don’t think it’s just Jeremy. I think she’s starting to settle into life. It’s been a year. The first year of anything is hard right? College, post-college, marriage, kids, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. She’s survived a year in the worst hell anyone could imagine. She’s got the Mom thing down, well as much as one can. She deserves to get her personal life back to where it should be. Dating is a normal thing and she perhaps lucked out on her first try.” I smiled and knew I was blushing.

“Okay, okay! I told you! It was a date and he’s a great guy. He asked me out weeks ago and I was terrified that I wasn’t supposed to be dating so I tried to avoid it. I ran out of excuses last night and he planned a really fantastic first date. We’ve become good friends. He makes living here feel a whole lot less lonely. But it was ONE DATE I have no idea whether I got lucky on my first try. I mean if I were him I would run for the fucking hills. His date ended by meeting the woman’s ENTIRE FAMILY. Okay, not entire but basically my entire family. He should run far, far away.” By now we were sitting and getting our nails done while our toenails dried.

“But you were giggling at your phone which usually means you are texting with a guy you find cute,” Frankie said. “You’ve been like that since you’d hide on a laptop on AOL Instant Messenger while trying to come up with your moody lyrics to use as away messages. So you clearly hope you got lucky on your first try. And from what I saw of him last night, he seems amazing.”

“He is,” Savannah said. “She didn’t even hesitate to tell him about Sam and Michael or how she became a mother.”

“Seriously?” Mandi asked.

“It felt like he wouldn’t judge me and maybe he’d have some insight on the single parenting stuff I’m doing. He asked if I planned on having any other kids, I said I hadn’t planned on having them and life was too hard with two little ones on my own. He asked if their dad was in the picture and I just told him what happened.”

“Everything?”

“I mean I waited to tell him about the PTSD and the nightmares until we’d known each other longer than a couple of hours, but yeah, he knows everything. He hasn’t been scared off by any of it. He’s watched me cry. He’s gotten a phone call or two in the middle of the night when I woke up with a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep. He offered to stay with me this weekend because he was worried about the nightmares. They’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you’ve told your therapist?” Mandi asked.

“I have. She wants me to take some sleeping medication for it but I’m too scared I won’t wake up. At some point I’ll feel like I can take it but right now everything just seems like too much.”

“Well, I think he sounds like a fantastic person. And everything you’ve told me about him makes it seem like he’s almost too good to be true.” I’d disclosed a little about him to my step-mom over the last couple of weeks. My sister, however, knew nothing. I didn’t want her to start to question me about him when there was nothing to question me about.

“How long have you known?” My sister turned to our stepmom with the look in her eyes that told us she wasn’t going to take any hiding from the questions.

“She text me about him the first day of summer break. It was the day Tony drove out here.”

“I was texting you that day, and you mentioned nothing.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. It was the first day he and I really spent together and you were trying to lecture me about letting our brother run away from home to live with me.”

“Well, you were.” She had to be right. Always. Even when she knew she wasn’t right, she would find a way to refuse to admit to Tony and me that we were right.

“Tony is doing great living with me. He’s not sleeping the summer away. Most mornings he’s in the house before I even come down for breakfast. He’s been working with me on the score I’m writing and has been a huge help with that. I was stuck for so long. He stole the copy of the film from me one night, watched it twice before bed and then came into my studio the next morning, sat down at my piano and fixed a song I’d been essentially screaming into the abyss about for weeks. I submitted the first draft of the score yesterday. I was running behind and got it sent in a week early. I may never let Tony leave my house.”

“He’s really been loving that he can just create with you every day. He sounds happy every time he calls home. As a Mom, that’s the only thing you can want. Which by the way, Frankie, when your sister calls home, she sounds happy too. So lay off it for a while. She has enough to worry about; we don’t need to add to it.”

“I’m just so confused by why everyone else knew but me. Well, Ryan too. Even Dad knew.”

“Frankie, you refer to my ex as Dickhead. Patrick didn’t do anything wrong, and you call him Dickhead. To his face even.”

“Well, he is,” she defended.

“But he isn’t. If the situation was reversed I would’ve left him. We had agreed that babies were completely out of the picture and marriage was a maybe. I broke our agreement and while he understood completely why I broke it, I also understood why he left. He never wanted kids of his own or anyone else’s so his girlfriend/roommate suddenly having a 4-year-old and an infant were dealbreakers. I will never be angry at him for what he did. It’s time for you to stop being angry about it.” I rarely spoke like this to Frankie, especially when there were people around us. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He did what was best for himself and in the end what was best for me and the kids. He wouldn��t have been happy which would have ended up making me miserable and I wouldn’t have been here for Ellie to meet Ava and you wouldn’t be grilling me about the first date I went on. So in fact, you should send him a fucking thank you note.” Mandi and Savannah both started to laugh as Frankie sat there with her mouth open. She was at a loss for words, a true rarity.

We finished with our nails and went to one of my favorite lunch spots. Lunch was much more normal conversation. We talked about the weekend ahead, family, and completely avoided the topic of my love life. It was a welcome break for a little over an hour. Once we were in the car, I quickly sent a text to Jeremy telling him we were on our way home. I pulled up the driveway to see his truck already there. I laughed a little on the inside knowing he probably had gotten bored and come over earlier because I hadn’t gotten a response from him. We climbed out and went into the house which seemed oddly silent for having four adults and five children in it.

“Where are they?” Savannah asked.

“I’m assuming the basement but the silence has me scared,” I replied. My house was only silent in the middle of the night when I was the only person awake. I put my purse down and headed downstairs. As soon as I made it to the bottom landing someone grabbed me lifting me up off the ground as I screamed. “What the fuck?”

“Hi,” Jeremy replied as I stopped moving and realized I’d been thrown over his shoulder and was now staring directly at his ass.

“Hi. That’s all you have to say. You just scared the shit out of me, and all you have to say is hi.” He flipped me back, so I was on my feet in front of him. I heard the three women I’d just had lunch with laughing along with the sound of my brother-in-law’s incredibly distinct laugh.

“Umm, how was lunch?” I balled my hand into a fist and punched him in the arm before he grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hug. “You look beautiful and smell really good,” he whispered into my ear.

“Lunch was fine. Now why on Earth is my house this quiet? This house is never quite.”

“Well, the big kids are all in the theater watching a movie. Axel is upstairs taking a nap.” He waived the baby monitor in front of me so I could see that he was listening to hear if he woke up. “And the grown-up kids are all in your studio. So it’s quiet because we’ve got things handled.” He smiled the cutest smile at me, and honestly, all I wanted to do was kiss him but realizing that a portion of my family was standing with us, I held back.

“Did you put Axel in bed?”

“I did. I got here as the kids were getting finished with lunch. He looked exhausted and needed cleaned up before I put him down. He and I are becoming besties.”

“You’re too sweet. Thank you.” It was in that moment that I realized we were holding hands. I almost yanked mine away but realized that I didn’t care.

“What movie did the kids turn on?” Savannah asked.

“Trolls,” Ryan replied. “Carter got outvoted by all of the girls. Poor guy wanted to watch one of the Cars movies.”

“Ellery is OBSESSED with Trolls. I can’t even tell you how many times a week we have a dance party to that Justin Timberlake song. She’s been stuck on it for what seems like her entire life,” I replied.

“Carter will be fine. You know all three of the girls are obsessed with it, he’s seen it enough times. Plus he knows he can come in here and read his comics. We bought him a bunch of new ones and a new graphic novel right before we left town so he’d keep himself occupied when he needed a break from everyone,” my sister interjected while she rolled her eyes a little. Carter was a lot like me. We could both handle crowds until we couldn’t handle them anymore and we needed quiet alone time. It often drove Frankie crazy how much alike he and I were. When we had family functions a lot of the time the two of us would disappear and they’d find us snuggled up in a chair together with a blanket and books. We were the nerds of the family.

“Your Dad told me when you got home, you were supposed to come to the studio,” Jeremy said.

“If Dad is playing with your instruments, I’m out.” Frankie was laughing. “I’m going to go watch Trolls with the kids.”

“I’ve got to go get some laundry and homework done before my family gets in town tomorrow,” Savannah said. “I’ll keep an eye on Axel too.” She held her hand open for Jeremy to pass the baby monitor to her. My sister and step-mom headed to the theater, where all of the kids were watching the movie. Jeremy pulled me into a tight hug once we both realized Ryan was out of the room.

“Sorry about earlier. I just thought it would be funny.”

“It was funny but also scared the crap out of me.” He leaned forward to kiss me. “So when did you get here?”

“When you were still getting your pedicure and told me to come over here if I was bored. I text Tony and he said that they were feeding the kids and breaking into the instruments when you were out of the house. I thought a good way to get to know your Dad and brother-in-law without you was to come over and bond over music.”

“It is always the best way,” I replied before kissing him again. “You also put my baby to sleep.”

“I did. He’s too fucking cute to resist. Fell asleep in my arms after I got him cleaned up and in pajamas.”

“Were you singing to him? That’s my trick. He hates the rocking chair which is honestly the worst thing to have happen with a kid who is a chunk like him. But if he can feel a warm body and you sing to him he’s out after a few little dances around his bedroom.”

“I did sing to him.”

“What did you pick?” I wanted to imagine in my head what it sounded like when he sang to my little dude. I could picture it and what I saw him my head was perfect. Mainly because Jeremy showed up today in jeans, a white t-shirt andgrey zip-up hoodie.

“I noticed you had song lyrics on his wall.” I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. In our final visit here together, Sam and I decorated Axel’s nursery. She was seven months pregnant, incredibly bitchy and knew any moment she’d be unable to travel. She kept fearing he’d come early because Ellery had come a few weeks early and had a short stay in the NICU. Sam was terrified that would happen again. Axel however came a week late and was the fattest happiest little baby.

She’d been unable to decide what to do with his nursery in Tahoe. In LA everything was pristine and a neutral color palette to match the modern farm house decor. Tahoe was harder because the house oozed personality. Deciding on the name Axel of course made Michael want to do every bad Guns N’ Roses themed idea he could come up with. He wasn’t allowed on the trip, in fact it was just a girls trip. He kept Ellery at home with him and we spent a full weekend in Tahoe just the two of us, Alex had been unable to come because of work. We laid on the floor of the room the first day throwing ideas out until one finally hit. We used the best of our art skills to paint a mural on the wall that looked reminiscent of the area the house was in. Lots of trees and a lake below them. In her perfect calligraphy Sam traced lyrics into the mural and filled them in. It looked like a greeting card or a notebook you’d end up paying $20 for at some fancy boutique or Anthropologie and then fear writing in because nothing was worthy of the notebook.

“Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow,” Jeremy softly sang into my ear as he held me in another hug.

“It was cheesy. It was an idea we saw on Pinterest. Coldplay was this weird love we shared. We saw them in concert so many times. We ridiculously took trips to under the false pretenses to visit my Mom so we could see them in London. Michael wasn’t really a fan but he allowed us to have that moment, though he told us we should’ve put the lyrics to ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ instead. He was outvoted 2-1.” Jeremy laughed. “If you’re ever in his room when it’s completely dark outside, wait a minute in the room after turning the lights off. We painted glow in the dark stars all over the sky of the mural and the ceiling.”

“That’s awesome. Though I would’ve totally been on board with a Guns N’ Roses mural.”

“Of course you would.” I kissed him again and just hugged him to me as I breathed my way through the memory I was in the middle of reliving.

“We should go back with your Dad and brothers. They will get suspicious.”

“They definitely will. Especially considering Frankie has had ample interrogation time today, and Tony has gotten none. He was so pissed last night that she wouldn’t let him come in my room with us as everyone headed to bed. He wanted to know how our date went.” Jeremy laughed before grabbing my hand and walking with me towards my studio.

“He did ask me how it went when it was just the two of us for a minute. I told him that it went great, and I was glad you finally weakened to my ways.” I laughed at him. “He said he was glad you might have a life finally.”

“Okay, this idea of you and my brother becoming friends is maybe not okay.” He laughed at me as he opened the door, pulling me into the studio. “So, what of my instruments have you destroyed?”

“None of them,” Dad said. “But when you moved you took some of my favorites and I missed them.” I loved seeing my Dad comfortably sitting with a guitar in his lap while Tony sat at the drums and Ryan at the piano.

“They’ve missed you too. I mean, you could come visit your kid once in a while.” I winked at him.

“Oh my middle child, my smartass and the one who ended up with my humor how I’ve missed you.” I sat down on the couch next to my Dad as Jeremy sat down in the comfy chair in the room. I rested my head on my Dad’s shoulder. I took a deep breath, breathing in his cologne. The same cologne he’d worn my entire life. It was Polo and came in a green bottle with a gold logo on it. It was the smell of comfort and safety.

“I would’ve much rather stayed home with all of you. They made me get all girly.” I held my hand up, showing my brand new, very fake nails. My rebellious act in being forced to do this was that they are pitch black. I always had incredibly short nails; it was truly an occupational hazard. They claimed that I needed to appear a little more ‘refined’ this weekend. I agreed if for no reason other than occasionally having long nails was fun and maybe they’d make me appear sexy or something. Honestly, I had no idea why I agreed to it, but I did.

“Can you still play with those claws?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes, they frequently force me into this situation. I learned quickly.” I reached for my Black Strat plugging it into the amp next to me. Without even a moment of hesitation I went into the opening guitar riff of “Sweet Child O’ Mine” causing Jeremy to laugh loudly as Tony started in on drums and Ryan stood up to do his best Axel Rose impression. It was obvious he’d immediately fit in with his wife’s misfit siblings the first time she brought him home. She’d been worried we’d embarrass her. My Dad sat back laughing and watching all of us. I knew this made him happy. This was what home felt like for us, I knew by the end of the night we’d get enough alcohol in my sister that she’d even join in. Normally Mandi would pick us over a movie but she hadn’t gotten time with Ellery in ages so I was sure she was just trying to soak up time with her granddaughter before the rest of the weekend came and she had to share her.

“Is there anything you can’t play?” Jeremy asked. Over the last few weeks, he’d discovered that I could typically play a song by ear. He’d played a few of the songs he was working on for me and I’d picked them up quickly. I had yet to figure out if it made him mad that I could play them without him teaching me or giving me sheet music or if he thought it was hot that this woman he was interested in could join in on one of his songs without lifting a finger.

“Yes, there’s a lot. In fact the solo in this song is one I’ve never been able to figure it out and it pisses me off. I’ve spent SO long trying. I hate it. Tony can play it. Ryan can play it.”

“I can play it,” Dad interrupted. “t pisses her off when I can play something better than her.”

“You can’t, but let yourself believe that, Pops.”

“You are still unfairly talented,” Jeremy said.

“Oh, it’s fair. I had no social life because of this.”

“She lies.” Of course, it would be my little brother that revealed my secret. “She had a social life, but it was all with other music nerds. She tried to be in a band, but it was all guys, and Dad put a stop to that quickly.”

“She was young and one of them had tattoos. I am a Dad.” Everyone in the room laughed. Dad was extremely protective of his girls. I had tried to join a band in high school with some of my guy friends and one of the guys in the band was 20 or 21 at the time. He did have a right to be concerned.

“I have tattoos,” Jeremy said. I started to laugh.

“So does she,” Dad replied. “Eventually, I lost all control of her.”

“Eventually, every kid grows up, Dad. Just wait someday I’ll call you screaming because Ellery has a tattoo.”

“Don’t put that image in my head.” He shook his head, causing all of us to laugh. “Did you ladies go to the grocery store to get stuff for dinner?”

“No, I did however order groceries to be delivered later today. It’s way more convenient. I have also had a nervous breakdown in the grocery store so I try to avoid it during daylight hours.” I laughed at myself as I saw Jeremy’s eyes get big. “You would’ve had one too. It was like rush hour grocery shopping on a Sunday. Elle had the flu and we were getting stuff for her so I could get her home, get her medication and put her in bed. She puked on me, herself, her brother and our groceries from where she was standing in the cart’s main area at her insistence. Then…her brother projectile vomited on me and a grocery shelf. Worst motherhood moment of my life.”

“You called Frankie bawling because you almost threw up in the car on the way home.” Ryan started to laugh. It was funny now, but it wasn’t when it happened.

“All three of us were covered in vomit. It was so horrible. Frankie had literally left the day before because she’d been here for WAY too long and with Ellie starting to get a fever we didn’t want her catching something and taking it home to the kids.”

“She was of course too late,” Ryan said looking at Jeremy who was the only person in the room that didn’t know the story. My family clearly all shared everything with each other and the rest of the universe with ease. “She was about half-hour from LA when she had to pull over and throw up. She barely made it into the bathroom in the house. By the end of the next day all five of us were sick.”

“It was horrible. I made Savannah wear a mask and threatened a hazmat suit. She was the only one who didn’t get sick. Even I was throwing up by the end of the day. It was Ellery’s payback for making her go to a some open play thing to make friends that Frankie found online in some Mom group. She did not want to go and she came home sick. She did not have to go back to it.” It was a little over an hour that we were having our own little jam session before the alert went off on my phone that the grocery delivery was at the gate. I went up to let them in and get the groceries. As I made it to the living room I realized Jeremy was on my heels.

“Need some help?” He knew I wouldn’t need it but also seemed to know a moment alone would be nice. I nodded as I walked to the door I’d directed the delivery driver and he helped unload the groceries into the butler’s pantry that was by the dining room table. Jeremy and I then quickly moved the groceries to the kitchen and started to put them away. He’d been here enough that he almost knew where everything in my kitchen went without needing guidance. “You okay?” He’d let me get most of the groceries away while being quiet. He seemed to know that occasionally I needed to say nothing and to let me do that.

“I’m okay. Just a lot of memories rushing back today. It was a year ago today that I had my last really good day with Sam. We sat in the studio, we didn’t have work to do because she was technically on maternity leave with Axel because he was only a few weeks old. But she wanted out of the house so she took Ellery to a friend’s house for a play date and left Michael and Axel at home by themselves. We laid in the studio, listening to our favorite songs, playing music together and just having a really great best friend day. We recorded some of it for shits and giggles. I haven’t listened to it in a year. I have it but I’m afraid to. We weren’t singing anything we wrote, we were singing our favorite songs and being goofballs.” I took a deep breath. “And tomorrow. Tomorrow is their wedding anniversary and it will be a year since I saw my best friend alive. A year since I hugged her. A year since I told her I loved her and her reply with her usual ‘of course you love me, I’m fucking amazing’ and then she’d pause and say ‘I love you too, Chuck.’ A year since I saw her beautiful smile light up her face when she looked at her kids or her husband. A year since I told Michael to remember how lucky he was to marry her and get me as his bonus wife. Tomorrow is their 8th anniversary. Sam’s lucky number was 8.”

“I’m staying here tonight,” Jeremy said as he pulled me into a hug as the tears started to fill my eyes and I felt the lump in my throat that had lived there for the last 364 days.

“You have to get Ava in the morning.”

“I can get up early and leave. But I know that you need someone around tonight, and rather than letting that someone be your sister, I’d like it to be me. If you’re okay with that.” I nodded as I took a deep breath and felt a tear slide down my face. “Do you have room for Ava and I both tomorrow?”

“Of course. The girls would love to have Ava as part of their sleepover all weekend. I was going to suggest it whether you decided to stay here or not. The stuff will go late both nights, and I want you here with me. Ava will fit in perfectly with the three girls. We’ll have three boys here too. It will be a houseful. You and Ava will be the perfect addition.” He pressed his lips into my forehead.

“I think tonight you should show me all of your tattoos. I was trying to be a gentleman our first day hanging out, and while I saw some of the tattoos because you were in a bathing suit, it was high waisted, so I have a feeling I missed a few.” I laughed. It was the perfect thing to break my mood and make me smile.

“If you’re lucky, I’ll let you see them. Though I know, there is one you haven’t seen that is easy to spot.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at me. I pulled my arms back from around his chest as he kept his around me. I took my Apple Watch off, there on my wrist, in beautiful dainty handwriting, all lowercase letters, were the words ‘time makes you bolder.’ “Interesting.”

“It’s my Mom’s handwriting.”

“Like Stephanie? Your biological Mom?” I nodded. “When did you get that?”

“It the winter after I turned 28. I was struggling. I was working for a composer occasionally and getting a handful of really small jobs, nothing anyone would even really even know was me or ever see. So I disappeared for a few months to London to see if I could find work there. My Mom was still living there and Sam was there, she thought she was still in love with some guy she met when we went to stay with my Mom for spring break our senior year of college that she moved to London for. She was working in a coffee shop and playing open mic nights when she could. My Mom’s name is Stephanie. Most people call her that, it’s what she goes by professionally, Stephanie Rossi. But at some point in her life my Mom decided she wanted to be Stevie Nicks, she lucked out that her parents named her Stephanie. When they were still young and in love my Dad started calling her Stevie and it stuck. Honestly, Frankie and I both call her Stevie. I can’t remember the last time I called her mom.”

“So the tattoo?”

“Well, I’d been struggling with not doing what I really wanted to with music. I was considering that I’d gone the wrong direction and should maybe produce or focus on songwriting for pop and rock music instead of composing. Thought about putting a band together. I was lost, thus ending up roaming around England and Europe with my Mom. She understood how it felt to feel as lost as I was, fuck she left her entire family because she needed to chase her dream. I got my first big offer which got me to go home. I wasn’t going home to work for anyone else anymore. I was going to do the unthinkable and if necessary live off my trust fund until I was where I wanted to be, I was going to give it a year. Mom was so excited to see me make this GIANT bold decision. Sam realized it was the decision she needed to make and literally packed her bags in a split second to catch a plane with me. But the night before we left my Mom and I went to a tattoo shop and I got this. It’s from “Landslide.” Time makes you bolder, even children get older and I’m getting older too. My wrist clearly didn’t have space for all of it so Mom decided it should just be time makes you bolder.”

“And it’s made you bolder.”

“WAY bolder. Before my Dad told me to take time to go see my Mom I was positive I’d done everything wrong and should’ve gone to law school. I told Dad I was considering that I might need to work at his firm if I ever wanted to have a real-life and real job. He didn’t want to see that and knew Stevie would take care of any crazy ideas I had about being a real grown-up. I was their dreamer.”

“Do they get along now?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah, fairly well. Things with Stevie were always hard for all of us. But she always says the one thing in her life that wasn’t a mistake was giving my Dad his girls. Even if it wasn’t the life she imagined for herself, it was the perfect life for him. She and Mandi is a different situation. She sort of threw us on Mandi without asking. Vinnie got a say in it and didn’t really give his wife an option. I mean, it’s better now but still not great. Small doses, and they are good.”

“She still isn’t coming this weekend?”

“No,” I said as I put my watch back on. “She’s off somewhere on a shoot and loving it. She called me yesterday morning to see if I had changed my mind and she offered to catch a flight. While it would be nice to have her here, it would just make everything worse. My Mom and Sam’s parents don’t get along well, which makes the whole fiasco of the funeral a worse thing than it could’ve been.”

“Why don’t they get along?”

“Well Sam moved to London at 24 and because moving directly in with a guy she fell in love with in the span of a week was a bad idea she crashed at my Mom’s place. Well her parents thought that she did. She really lived with the guy. But she told them she was moving in with my Mom. They thought my flighty mother had convinced their daughter to runaway after a guy that she introduced her to. It was a mess.” I laughed. “Stevie didn’t tell her to run away for love. I mean Stevie loves love and is always waiting for her next romance. But she wouldn’t encourage it with anyone else. Hell she tried to convince me that moving in with Patrick after 3 years was too fast. But because of that she and I both felt it would be best for her not to be here. She’ll be back in LA this summer and either come stay with me and the kids for a while or I’ll go home, stay with Dad and spend time with her.”

“That’s good.” He hugged me tighter again. “I wish I could hit fast forward on this weekend for you. Ryan said you had a meltdown on Frankie this morning because of the number of people that she and Alex invited.”

“Yeah, they invited 80 people. It’s possible that Saturday there will be 50 people in my fucking house. I am so NOT prepared for that.”

“That is a lot of people. But we will get you through it. Sunday will be a day at the pool with only the closest family. Monday when they are all gone I’ll just spoil you and let you sleep. Either I can help Savannah with all of the kids or we can bribe her and Tony to watch them so you can recharge and I can take care of you.”

“Are you real?”

“Yes?” He seemed confused by my question.

“I will absolutely need to recharge.”

“I know. Too much action is gonna stress you out.”

“Right. Well, I spent years with Patrick, who would always be mad that after a vacation or holiday or birthday party or work event or really anything, I’d need like two days of silence and sleep before I could be a functioning human again. He hated it. I finally started letting him stay at our place and would check into a hotel for a couple of days and sleep.”

“That’s odd, especially considering it was your condo.”

“Right? Okay so maybe he was a Dickhead sometimes. But you for real seem like you’re fictional if you’re going to let me have a day of silence after this.”

“I just want to make sure that you feel your best. Especially since I leave next weekend.”

“Don’t talk about that. I don’t want to think about it. We are so new if we are even a we, I don’t know. You leaving already sucks.” I pouted. He pouted back at me.

“You know if you hadn’t blown me off for two weeks we wouldn’t be so new, we’d just be mostly new.”

“You’re right but also shut up. I had my reasons.”

“I know, and I fully support them. You needed to get to the point where you felt okay attempting to be more than just their Mom. I get it.” I rested my head on his chest. “Do you want to go back downstairs?” I shook my head no.

“It’s quiet right now. I like that it’s quiet. Once they are all around again it won’t be quiet and I won’t be able to stand here like this with you. I’ll have to go back to basically pretending there’s an invisible forcefield around you that if I touch you I’ll get electrocuted.”

“Except you don’t. They all know we’ve been on a date. They will all know I’m sleeping here tonight and no offense, I’m not sleeping out at Tony’s.” I laughed. “I mean I can sleep on the couch in your room if you don’t want me in bed with you but I’m sleeping in your room. Maybe I’ll get to be the lucky one to stay up all night with you.”

“Maybe you will.” I stayed quiet for a minute as he swayed back and forth with me still in his arms. It was like I did sometimes when the kids cried. I’d try to soothe them with movement. It was working. I was fairly certain if I could figure out how to balance and not fall over I could fall asleep in his arms like this. “I’m sorry I hesitated.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“No, I need to. There’s a lot in my life that I’ve been afraid of the last year. I shouldn’t have been afraid of this.” I looked up at him and smiled before pressing my lips into his.

*****AUTHOR'S NOTE*****

First, I apologize for the delay with this chapter. It took much longer to get up than I expected. You may or may not have seen this so I will share a little bit about it again. It was just over two weeks ago that my grandfather passed away. Losing someone is never easy but it made some of this writing feel too real so I had to take a step back last week as we held his funeral and I worked my way through the beginning stages of grief.

Last weekend I started to feel more myself. I got back to work in a normal and productive manner. I work for myself so it was incredibly beneficial to be able to take the time necessary to process, grieve, and do the things I needed to do for myself. My grandfather was a very important person in my life and a huge part of who I am. I am obnoxiously proud of the fact that I am an Italian-American, my grandfather was the youngest son of two Italian immigrants who came to America for the hope of a better life. His father died when he was 18 months old. His mother could not read or write. His house was bilingual, mainly because their Mom struggled with English and her 7 children helped her to learn it based on what they were learning at school. There will likely never be a day in my life that I don't miss him, he was the strongest person I knew. He was 96 years old. He watched his parents, every one of his siblings, their spouses, some nieces and nephews, almost all of his cousins and a good portion of his friends die. But the hardest for him was losing my grandma. She was the center of his universe. I honestly think if he could've had it his way he would've held her hand while she died to help her through the end and then died right there with her. But instead, he lived on, for seven years without her. He missed her every day until he didn't have to miss her anymore. The unique thing for me is one of my friends was one of his nurses. She was able to tell me about her experience with him and the stories he was telling all of the staff about his bride and how he couldn't wait to see her again.

Needless to say, the sadness is still present and the tears still come like a waterfall on occasion, but working Charlie through her grief was honestly a helpful thing. Being able to sink my teeth into a chapter was not only healthy for me, it was freeing. I could take the feelings I have, adjust them for the purpose of how Charlie would feel and go with it. Writing is also my creative outlet. As someone who deals with depression and anxiety in a major, life-altering way my writing helps me to stay sane. So it's been an immense help. And I finally hit a good flow. I already have over 3,000 words of Chapter 11 on the way.

Okay, now about the chapter. I know it's long which most people love and it's maybe got stuff that doesn't seem important to people but I felt like the details about Charlie and who she is were important, especially as this awful anniversary approaches her. The happy memories are sometimes the hardest to face and she's facing them all head-on while still trying to be a good daughter, sister, mother, friend, and who knows maybe at some point be a good girlfriend. Having her family around her makes her feel whole. It's the thing about Italian-American families. We will argue and drive each other crazy but when it comes down to it family comes first and we'd protect them to the end. I know it sounds stereotypical but honestly, growing up in a city with a tight-knit Italian-American community has shown me how true it is. Italians also really know how to hold a grudge but that's for another day, haha. My Dad calls it Italian Alzheimers, they forget everything but the grudge. The closeness of the family and community of Italian-Americans is one of the reasons I'm drawn to writing characters that are part of that community. Also because it's what I know. The traditions, the family, even the arguing, it's my life and while I am not Charlie and don't have a ton in common with her, it's easy to write the interaction of her family. It's also why Everlee from In the Heat of Los Angeles was easy for me to write. There was a bit of a reflection of my family in theirs.

I am enjoying writing the shift in the relationship between Charlie and Jeremy. They are fun to write. They are an interesting couple for me to write. They have so much in common while still being very different from each other. Jeremy is quickly becoming a huge support system for Charlie, which is what she needs. It doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes and a good kisser.

As for the news recently about Jeremy. I am an outside observer, a fan. I don't know what is true what isn't true. I believe that cancel culture is toxic, even the law states innocent until proven guilty. I am going to continue this story because the Jeremy I've created is a character I love. If at some time the circumstances regarding the news from this week change, I'll re-evaluate. But for now, we will continue on this Adventure. I hope you are all willing to stick with me.

I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter, good and bad. It's been a tough few weeks for me so my writing could be completely off of it's normal. Your support, even if it's silent, means a lot but I would really love to hear from you. What intrigues you about this? Why you started reading it and maybe why you're still reading it? If you've read any of my other writing I'd love to hear how you feel about this as it is obviously very different from my past writing.

I am filled with endless gratitude for you all. Thank you for letting me take the time this needed. Hopefully 11 continues on as easily as it has started.

xx. Annie

#jeremy renner #jeremy renner fanfic #jeremy renner fan fic #jeremy renner fanfiction #jeremy renner fan fiction #Elizabeth olsen #Lizzie Olsen #Elizabeth Olsen as Charlie De Luca #oc fanfic #oc fan fic #oc fan fiction #oc fanfiction #original character fan fic #original character fan fiction #original character fanfic #original character fanfiction #marvel #hawkeye #mcu

[littleredchucks]

Hi. I kind of wanted to ask you about Lives in Abstraction for the fanfic commentary ask but found it so hard to chose just one section. Could you possibly do it for the letter by Victor in chapter 37? I’ve always kind of wanted to know what actually happened to Victor because the letter doesn’t say much.

Okey-dokey, so… when I wrote this it sort of killed me. I hated how sad it was and I fudged over a lot of details in the letter because it just seemed a bit much. Cos I know what happened to Bauer but I didn’t want to put it in the story. Nevertheless I’m going to give it a go, because I love Bauer and Rosey so much and it’s nice to revisit them from time to time, even the sad bits. I’ve written too much beneath the cut.

“I am so sorry, my Rosey (he wrote) for all that you suffered, for what befell you. I loved you so fiercely. I love you still. I am sorry you were stolen from me, that I had not the chance to grow old with you as I always hoped. I wish that we were still in possession of the crab phones that we fashioned, do you remember those? I am sure they could cross such distance, could connect us. But they are gone, I suppose. Everything is gone now. I do not talk of those years, do you know, because when I have tried it has made the people who heard my words rather upset, but you have asked me, and I can deny you nothing, and besides, perhaps writing shall be easier than talking. Perhaps I should apologise now, in case I write something which does not agree with you. Will you forgive me, my Rosey, my dearest one, for all that befell me?

(I really wanted the tone of this letter to be soft and melancholy and quite slow, especially to begin with, like Bauer is struggling with putting the words down and with ordering his thoughts. This is basically the only time when the story is in his voice but it’s not the voice he would have used in any other chapter, because he’s been through so much and is mentally fragile and just so tired in body and soul. The crab phones are a reminder of their time at Nice, obviously, of that most happy time, and when Rosey first felt a strange sense of foreboding about their future, because Bauer talked of dying together. And the phones are sort of their thing, in the Dali film and in a lot of fan art of them. Bauer is wishing there were some way they could communicate. I wanted to show that they were as important to Bauer as they were to Rosey, that Rosey’s feelings weren’t one sided, and that his narrative can be trusted, I guess, even when he’s been focused on only one thing, or stuck in the darkness of his own mental illness. And truly, no one understands Rosey’s mind better than Bauer, hence the apology in case he writes something that upsets him, because Bauer spent so much of their time together attempting to shield and protect Rosey. Still, he knows he can’t deny Rosey’s questions.

I spent some time at first still in Milan, at the San Vittore Prison, but not in any part that I had previously broken in to. I suppose they knew me. They kept me underground instead. They asked many questions, in a wide variety of ways, but I convinced myself to unlearn the answers they were looking for after a while, and so was no use to them, and told them nothing. They took things from me. They hurt me. My feet - my fingers - I - they … I cannot -I fear am not so easy on the eye as your letter seems to suggest that I was all those years ago. They kept me in the dark, in the very dark, for a very long time. I could not-

(Yeah. So, San Vittore was built in the late nineteenth century and housed a lot of political prisoners in Italy in WW2. It tends to be referred to as ‘notorious’ in most books. Not a nice place. My mother’s father and brothers were imprisoned in Spain during the war and I’ve been informed it was a similar sort of shit show. Also, books I have on San Vittore talk of how there was a lot of torture. My great uncle had his toe and finger nails forcibly removed during interrogation. Victor wants to be able to tell Rosey what happened, about all this terrible stuff, but in a way it’s too difficult to write it down, it still hurts him too much, and he also doesn’t want to think of Rosey getting upset, or worse, sighing at him for getting himself in to such trouble. I wondered for a long while about the phrasing “in the very dark” but in the end left it like that because it just seemed right. I felt like Bauer would struggle to describe that as well, he’s still afraid of that cloying darkness and believing he had been forgotten and left to die, but also that, as he ages, his ability to navigate between the languages he knows might be slipping too, hence the odd nature of his writing and wording and sentences going unfinished.

But then there were explosions and fire and I was able to count the nights by the sounds of destruction and then the guards fled but they did not unlock the door and no one unlocked the door Rosey and when they finally did it was not for freedom but for a new prison. Risiera di San Sabba. I believe they thought I was someone other than I am for they asked a great many questions, and did so much, so many things, to me, my body, to try and get answers. I recited for them my mother’s prayers in response to their demands and so they allowed me the job of carrying the corpses to the furnace rather than joining them in the oven. Then there was more fire, more death, and then they too were gone, and we were called free and expected to go on our way.

(I guess this is a continuation of that fear of the darkness and being left for dead. And I also wanted to somehow show that for Bauer, in writing this, a panic is rising. When he says “and no one unlocked the door Rosey” he’s panicking because he’s back in that moment and it’s terrifying him. It also affects his punctuation, he’s just trying to get the words out and doesn’t care that the sentence is running on. Until Risiera di San Sabba. I struggled with my history nerdiness here because I didn’t want to do a whole lot of background or filler information because Bauer just wouldn’t, that’s not where his head is at in this. Risiera di San Sabba was a concentration camp in northern Italy. It was a transit camp for Jewish prisoners being sent to Auschwitz but also a permanent camp for political prisoners. In the section a bit before Bauer notes that the guards knew him, or something about him, and so it made sense that he would end up there. It wasn’t a nice place. My partner’s family lost a lot of family in WW2. The story goes that they converted to Christianity to try and avoid the Nazis but it didn’t save many of them. To my mind Bauer talked his way out of execution by creating another character, and it because it was nearing the end and things were in such chaos in northern Italy at the time, he managed to survive. I also imagine Bauer has a rather poetic kind of speech most of the time. He is, through the story, occasionally crass but he also has a rather lovely way of speaking and so that final line “more fire, more death, and then they too were gone” seemed to fit. A lot of freed prisoners and refugees got stuck at San Sabba for years after the war because they had nowhere to go and in my mind Bauer, in a state of shock, was there until Maria found him, by chance, and took him with her. She tried to settle back in Milan but just couldn’t do it, too much had changed for them both, and so they began a slow drift toward Nice, ending up there without really meaning to, certainly without Maria knowing the full significance of the place.

I am sorry. I have written too much, things you do not want to read and-I still wait for you to finish my sentences, do you know. Still expect to feel the squeeze of your hand in mine. But you never shall, never again. I know. You are dead and I write these letters to a ghost. I even thought that I had received a reply from you, a beautiful thing full of love and memories and it brought such joy to my heart, but now I cannot find it anywhere. For how could you reply? It was a small consolation, a tiny shred of comfort, that at least you had died and they could not do to you what they did to-I miss you so. But even if you were living I do not think I could bear to have you see me. Though I long to see you, oh my beautiful Rosey, I could not live if you were to see what I have become. Such a vain creature I am. I used to revel in the way that you gazed at my form, at the press of your hands against my skin, as if you worshipped me. Childish fool that I was. But you did love me. You did? I found a copy of your poems. Not my copy, another copy, and I signed it for you and she said she would send it off to you, as if she could send a book of poems to the underworld. Did it find you, my dear, beloved, constant Rosey? I hope so. I hope that you know what your love has meant to me.

(The idea of finishing sentences is pretty integral to this story. It was the whole focus, wasn’t it? But it’s also a Noel and Julian thing, because a lot of this fic goes back to that relationship and that magic they have when they look at each other across the stage, that holding hands, trade mark tenderness. Hmm. But this is also where it’s revealed that Bauer thinks Rosey is dead. Maria didn’t say it to him, he was sure Rosey was dead when she found him and she just didn’t tell him otherwise, because she had honestly assumed that Rosey would attempt suicide again and possibly succeed. She didn’t want to give Bauer hope and then have it destroyed. I found the idea of writing to a ghost fascinating. To me it was a way of further showing where Bauer’s mind was, the level he was functioning. The lines between dream and reality are blurring and he can’t quite remember what’s true and what he’s just thought up or remembered from long ago. He’s pretty blunt and clear in his assessment of himself though, but not when it comes to his belief that Rosey loved him. I actually hate that his certainty in that might have been broken a bit, over the years. The memories of Rosey worshipping him are a real kick in the guts for Rosey though, they’re designed to be, because those memories are so sacred and he’s refused to acknowledge them. I also quite liked the notion of sending a book of poems to the underworld.

It gave me the thought to write to you, simply so that I might not be so alone. I try to paint, it is only water and colour and lines now on paper, and when I mumble to myself about the form or the colour they look at me strangely, so I try to hide what we all know, that I have lost myself, slipped almost completely from a mind that was never quite secure to begin with.

(So, this is really the way I feel about painting, more so now actually, than when I wrote it. And this is the most lucid I think Bauer is in this letter, strange considering he’s talking about the fact that he feels his mind is ebbing. And acknowledging that his mental health has never been great. I guess I wanted to show that Bauer was always aware of that, he wasn’t ignorant of his problems.

I miss you. But I am gad that you cannot see me. I am as dead to the world as you are in my way. It is for the best, I think. I only wish I could have laid bougainvillea at your grave, for it grows here, up the wall by my window. I wish I knew where you lay so that I could send some now. Who will know to do the same for me? It will be my turn so soon. Who will leave flowers for me to remind of the night I found my twin, my ‘found remembrance of spiritual love’, of complete love, who will there be to hold my hand? I miss your hand in mine…”

He signed it: “With all the love in the world, always and forever, your Victor”.

(I think I forgot to mention before how the idea of Bauer not wanting to be seen was important for me in this as well. Because the story covers so much of their lives I felt it was important to show that views can shift and evolve and that Victor’s understanding of his own body has changed, though not for the better. He always used clothing to hide or play characters but not with Rosey, with him he would waltz around nude or use clothing as an in joke. He always showed his heart so openly and clearly to Rosey and now he can’t even bear the thought. It’s not just that his body has been altered by age and torture and hardship, it’s that his heart has as well, and the idea of Rosey seeing that, which he would, is horrifying to Bauer. Finally I wanted to throw in the mention of the bougainvillea because that was another image that carried through the story. I love bougainvillea, they’re fascinating plants and I have several growing around my little house. I saw a lot of them in Europe when I was a little kid and have such strong memories of them. They are so vibrant, so strange in their colouring and flower formation and once they’re established they are hardy as fuck. But here the remembrance is sad. Bauer doesn’t know where Rosey’s grave is and worries that there will be no memory of what they were together. He’s not so fussed about being forgotten as an individual but the idea of losing the life they had together is painful for him. It was really quite sad. Damn. Um. And then it ends with the refrain of “always and forever” but is signed simply Victor. I tend to refer to him as Bauer, Rosey does too for a lot of it, and Bauer don’t self-refer in that way much. He calls himself an idiot or refers to his titles like Madman and General but I wanted this to be very pared down. Rosey calls him Victor when he’s being tender, and that’s what Victor is remembering most.I actually hated writing this a bit. I wanted to change my mind and have them find each other and have a happy ending. I had a good readership of about five who talked me through it and understood that it needed to go that way and I gave them fair warning, and that helped me feel less horrible about it. Sorry this has run so long but thank you for the ask.

#my writing #victor Bauer #Gui Rosey

[sithlordintraining]

The Princess & her Knights

A/N: Well, well, well, idk. Chapter 7 and SNA 18 in one week😱

Summary: Greaser Kylo Ren fell in love with good girl Rey Kenobi over the summer. When they unexpectedly discover they’re now in the same high school, will they be able to rekindle their romance? OF COURSE, with a little help from their friends and some singing. But that was Junior year, can their love really stand the course of Senior year, college applications, and other teenage problems?

Chapters: 6, 8

“The very purpose of a knight is to fight on behalf of a lady.”

Thomas Malory

It was a regular chilly fall day, everyone was lining up to pick up their homecoming tickets after school. Marnie, Rizzo, and you stood on the line talking about God knows what. “Hey girls.” Kenickie waved before kissing Rizzo. Soon all the Knights were cutting the line standing with the girls. A breeze racked through your body, you clenched the books closer to your chest wishing the line would move faster. Warmth started to spread as something heavy and black hit your shoulders. Turning, it was none other than your handsome stalker, Juney and that ridiculous attractive free strand in the front of his amber eyes. It didn’t help that that had become his signature look. “What?!” He exclaimed as you sent him those dagger eyes. “You looked cold, I just wanted to warm you up. Can’t have my favorite paper shaker catching her death before I get to see you on your debut.” You rolled your eyes as you caught his adorable boyish smile, thank God your mind was preoccupied with annoyance because you would definitely be fighting back a smile.

“What do you want?” You asked. He just chuckled as you did your best to play annoyed. They both knew she was enjoying his attention. “You aren’t going to the dance, so you’re just cutting the line to harass me?” The line started to move and he shuffled along with you. “Well, it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t now would it, Y/N?” His sweet voice cooed in your ear. Amber eyes blazing when he saw the subtle twitch of your lips upward. “I also wanted to say I heard about your little race, I’m impressed; a girl who can fight and race, guess I’m a lucky fella.” You shook your head chuckling at his sentence. You definitely didn’t have anything to come back with. Once again, that boyish smiled appeared when he heard your laugh. Unbeknownst to the flirting duo, the Knights, Rizzo, and Marnie watched them. “You know, I think that it’s real kick that Y/N’s a Knight,” Rizzo said. Marnie shook her head agreeing: “Yeah and they’re really cute together, who would’ve thought two Knights dating.” Of course, your supersonic hearing picked up on this last comment. Opening your mouth to say something, Kylo beat you to the punch. “They aren’t dating. And even if she was a Knight, you can’t date within the circle.”

Dramatically you spun to Juney. “You’re a Knight?!” Shrugging it off, he sent you a cool smirk. “Yeah baby, just had to get my license and then I could get my jacket.” Maybe you were overreacting it was just some stupid greaser gang, but the hard worker in you earned that jacket. “This should be mine!” You pulled the jacket from your shoulders and waved it in Kylo’s face. “I did everything! I won the race, I won the car, I won your stupid car from Hux for you.” The crowd that now surrounded you bust into whispers and oh’s the information spilling from your lips. “My car IS NOT stupid!” Kylo rose his voice. “And I told you before no, don’t be stubborn.” Shoving the jacket into his chest you yelled “You’re a real germ, a jerkface, a joke!” Kylo scoffed. “Y/N, don’t act like you’re hearing for the first time.” You folded both arms, pressing the books closer to your heaving chest. “Oh yeah, and I bet your reason is as dumb as last time.” Having enough, you decided to leave. You didn’t care if you didn’t get tickets. You and Phasma could just hang at your place. Before you could leave, Juney grabbed your hand squeezing it tight so that his sweat did make his hand slip from yours.

“I challenge you to a race, Kylo.” Everyone went silent as amber and brown eyes burned into each other. “My claim is for Y/N to become a Knight.” Juney’s voice was loud and assertive. Kylo growled in annoyance. “I second that!” Kenickie spoke up. “No.” Kylo grew frustrated. “Yeah, me too!” Doody jumped in and was soon followed by Putzie and Sonny. Everyone watched as the Knights turned on their leader. He knew he had no choice but to accept the challenge. “I accept.” He said through gritted teeth. “And you,” His gaze turned to you. “You are not allowed to the race, understand?” A spark lit in your eye, glossed lips curling up to reprimand him for talking to you like a child. “Don’t talk to her like that!” Juney barked. Kylo’s long index went flying into the guy’s face with growl “Listen-” “Ben?” Rey’s soft voice flew through his ears. She looked at him to Juney, then to you; face growing hard every second. The couple stood glaring at you and you couldn’t help but feel heated and a stinging in your eyes. Juney saw you and tugged at your hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” Hand in hand, Kylo’s eyes burned at the sight of the two of you; whatever he thought he was doing to keep you two apart, was only bringing you closer.

Your mind was so all over the place, you had forgotten that you were holding Juney’s hand, whose fingers had now interlocked with yours. Dragging him along, you tried regulating your breathing. You couldn’t believe he talked to you like that! Well, it was kind of your fault, but the look of disgust in his eyes hurt you. Juney watched as tears brimmed your coated lashes, slowly he reached for the key in your hand to open the door and helped you settle in. “Hey,” he said softly. You sniffled, avoiding his gaze. “Hey, don’t cry.” The back of his hand whipped away the free tear that escaped. Your hands feverishly wiped at your face out of embarrassment. “Look, you can’t let them see you like this. Ok? Can’t let them see them get to you.” He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Especially her.” He turned to see Rey stealing glances at you two. Leaning through the car window, his rough thumb brushed along your cheek. “Now lemme see your smile. Come on! Lemme see that smile that drives me wild.” He coaxed. You tried so hard, but eventually gave in. You gifted him a smile along with a giggle. “There you go.” He sighed with a lazy smile. “Thanks.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “The very purpose of a knight is to fight on behalf of a lady.”

It possibly was the worst week for Kylo; not only was his whole gang against him, but they all seemed to be congregating around you, especially Juney. Everywhere, it was you and him, or somebody talking about you two. It was also an unspoken agreement that Kylo wouldn’t come over to study and missed not just English, but all his other classes. This resulted in a very mad Luke, who threatened to remove Rey and him from the Homecoming court. Kylo couldn’t do that to Rey, so he returned to class only to realize you weren’t in class due to cheer practice. This only made him, strangely, glum. And to top it off, Rey was mad at him. She expressed her distaste the fact that Kylo was racing because of you but also wanted him to win so you wouldn’t be in the Knights. Not to mention, the race was the night before the homecoming parade and he appeared on the float with a nice big nick on his right cheek. And it didn’t make it better that both him and Rey were taking out their anger out on each other because of you. Your ponytail swinging side to side, as you recited the chants with a bright white smile. Juney, the Knights, and the Pink Ladies all sat in the front and cheer you on. Every call and response that group was there as your participating audience, chanting, singing, dancing, and because of this response from the “coolest” kids in school, everyone else joined in too! Kylo sat in the corner just fuming at every bad joke that Juney said to get your attention and every smile you tried to hide every time one of the other cheerleaders giggled about how cute they are. He rolled his eyes.

It was finally over and you were surrounded by the Pink Ladies. “Oh my gosh,” Marnie exclaimed “You were just so cute!” “Yeah and those moves!” The girls exclaimed and you smiled at all the compliments. Jan held one pom-pom, as Marnie held the other as you all walked towards Rizzo’s car. Next to it, was all the Knights, you sucked in a breath as Juney turned around stomping his cigarette out and sent you a smile. His lips curled up into a smile as he made his way toward you, “I really enjoyed the show you put out there for me.” (Y/e/c) eyes rolled at his comment. “Oh trust me, I didn’t do it for you.” He laughed at your response, wincing when he closed his eyes. “What happened to your eye?” Furrowing your brows, looking at his bruised right eye. “Nothing,” He shrugged off. Before you could start interrogating him, you were cut off by a hand on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N!” Patty and a group of fellow cheerleaders approached you. “You were really awesome out there.” You started to smile. “Thanks Patty, you were great too!” She looked around seeing the Knights and Pinks looking at her. “Well...I came to see if you wanted a ride to the sleepover.” “Sleepover?” You tilted her head. “Yeah, Rey’s having a sleepover for the whole squad.” A string of whispers broke out amongst the other girls as Rey, Rose, and Kylo approached them. “Rey did you not invite her?” Patty crossed her arms. Rey was at a lost for words, as everyone stared at her. She was caught in the act and there was nothing she could do. “Oh, no. I-I I already promised Frenchie I’d go to her house, Rey asked me.” You replied. Patty’s scowling face returned to it’s happy expression. “Oh well, maybe next time.” Patty shrugged as all the girls made their way to their vehicles. It was an uneasy silence between Rey, Rose, and Kylo. Rose as usual, sending you an apologetic look as she hopped into the hornet. “I don’t know why you helped that girl, if it was me, I would’ve watched Patty tear her a new one.” All the girls laughed, except you, as you piled into the Studebaker.

It was a few minutes into the hour and laughter and music filled Frenchie’s room. A flash of the light from outside caught the girl's attention. Rizzo told them it was the boys and she was going out to have a little fun. “Hey, Kenickie.” Rizzo smiled. She glanced at Kylo, who was sulking in the passenger seat. “What’s with blueberry?” Kenickie looked at his friend and sighed. “I’m not here for you, I’m here for Y/N.” Rizzo rolled her eyes. She climbed back up with a disgusted attitude. “It’s for you.” She drudged past you. “Is it Juney?!” Frenchie asked, as her, Marnie and Jan ran to the window. “No, it’s her other Knight in greasy armor.” Throwing on a sweater and your white cheer sneakers, you climbed down to see Kenickie perched against his car. “Hey,” He said. “Um, he’s been like this for about a while, and I think you’re the only one who might do any good.” You sauntered towards your friend who just stared down at his hands. You leaned your hands against the window, tilting your head. ‘He should go talk to Rey, she is his girlfriend.’ a voice with a rather nasty attitude popped into your head. You shook it off, he was your best friend, before all of this. “Hey,” You whispered. “Do you want to go for a walk?” He started to remove himself from the car as his answer.

The walk was silent minus the scuffing of his boots and the jingle of your charm bracelet. “I’m sorry!” Both teens spat out in unison. A small laugh left both of your lips. “I’m sorry I nagged you into becoming a Knight. I should’ve never pushed you.” Your eyes seemed to grow wider at your apology. “To be honest, I don’t even think I’d look good in a leather jacket.” You began to ramble. “Well, I would, but I just don’t think I could wear it every day like you guys. Some outfits don’t require a leather jacket.” Kylo chortled at the way your eyes wandered around, somewhat picturing the outfit. “I wish you would’ve told me before I got this!” He pointed to his cheek. “Oh, I’m sorry.” You tsked. “At least you don’t have a black eye.” “Well, that’s the reason your ‘Knight in shining armor’ has one. And I’m sorry.” Kylo sighed. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, I shouldn’t get so...Rey should’ve invited you. Whatever we have, is between us and no one else.” His hands moved through his hair. “And the reason I don’t want you to be a Knight is that I, I just, they’re all a bunch of nosebleeds and you’re too smart for that.” “Aren’t you one of those? And I hang out with you.” You said. He chuckled. “Ok, haha. You’re too good for all that and I just want to make sure, you’re ok, you know?” A hand slipped on his shoulder. “You don’t have to protect me.” Kylo shook his head. “Yeah, I know, but.” He just shrugged.

Silence set in once again before you asked the question that had been lingering in our mind.“So...I’m guessing you won. I’m not a Knight, right?” He rubbed his rough hand on the back of his neck. “Actually, Kenickie won. So you are a Knight.” Kylo watched as your (y/e/c) eyes lit up under the moonlight. “I was so preoccupied with beating Juney, I forgot about the others. And then, well, we fought.” He shrugged. “I-I I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t get a leather jacket. You’re the only girl, so you should be special; I could get you denim jacket, or a letterman with a K, or a pin, or a necklace.” Kylo rambled on, forgetting you were there. “Aw how sweet, the Master of the Knights treating me all special, like a princess!” You teased, sticking your tongue out. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever Princess. As long as you remember who is running this joint.” Your melodic laugh ran through his ears and he couldn’t help but smile.

Kylo halted in his steps as he approached the middle of the block. You paused seeing the glum look on his face. “That’s her house.” He whispered. Shadows of girls moving about behind the yellow shades dance, while faint music could be heard in the background. He didn’t need to tell you that he and Rey weren’t on good terms at the moment, you could see it. “Hey,” He felt a tug on his jacket sleeve. “Go talk to her.” His feet moved with your pulling.”I-I, she won’t, what do I say.” You shrugged. “Something from your heart or a book. She seems like one of those romance fantasy stories readers.” Kylo’s breathing became heavier as you begin to pick up rocks to throw. Seeing his anxiety set in. Your dainty fingers fell across his broad shoulders. “Kylo relax, I’ll hide behind that bush and read you your lines ok?” The smile set on your face calmed his fears. His cheeks were rose stricken at the look you gave him, with shining eyes grew tired. He shook his head out of the trance and took a breath.

Getting the attention of Rey was enough to make him want to give up. Now the audience of the whole cheer squad watching was enough to make him back out. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” The sound of your voice caused Kylo to turn to you. Your lips mouthed: ‘speak’. “But so-soft!” He looked at you once more for his line. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Rey is the sun.” You shout-whispered.  “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Rey is the sun.” Kylo said aloud, which gained giggles from all of the girls and you. He shot you a menacing look for playing with him. You apologized and continued: “It’s you, my love.” And then he began repeating your every word. “I came here heart heavy, but now I’m left tongue-tied by your beauty. So hear my soul speak; Before I met you, I was living in the dark. Afraid and unaware. I was beginning to panic, wondering what to do but then I met you. But then I met you. And like the Sun, you brighten my day and cleared the gray skies and in the wake of the rain, you left rainbows as your footprints. For you are the center of my world and I am the sea that shines because of you.” Rey’s face was stained red at his choice of words. “For the moon, in all her beauty cannot touch you. For the moon and the stars and sky cannot come between what we have.” You whispered, which only gained the parted lips from Kylo. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, well because, you were the moon and if anything, it was the moon and the sea that were inseparable. Coaxing Kylo to speak, you tripped over a bush and landed on the ground. The girls tried to see over the large square bushes that separated the houses. “Is that Kenickie?” Rey asked. “Hey!” You said in a rather comical deep voice. Kylo chuckled knowing it wasn’t him. He went to continue, only to see Mr. Kenobi at the door. “Good evening, sir.” Kylo cleared his throat. Mr. Kenobi nodded. “What a wonderful soliloquy you performed for the whole house, Ben.” Kylo blushed again. “It is late, do you need a ride home?” Kylo shook his head. “No, I have one. Um...Good night.”

Everyone filled back into the house. Kylo sauntered over to you, who was now sitting upright on the neighbor’s lawn. “Need help, Princess?” He offered his hand and you accepted. You began to walk back to Rizzo’s house as it was getting late. “Where are those words from?” Kylo asked. “Some old quotes and just some things, I wouldn’t mind hearing myself. You know to boost my ego.” You chuckled. “I’m sure people boost your ego all the time, Princess.” “Princess? Is this my new name?” You cooed playfully. “Well, you had Knights fighting in your honor, so.” “Well, you and Juney started it.” You replied. He ran his hand through his dark locks. “You shouldn’t be talking to him. You’re just, you two wouldn’t work. It just can’t!” He exclaimed. “Why not?” You inquired more information. “He’s a phony! Juney’s real name is William Alfred Smith Jr., he’s like some hotel heir and he parades around like he doesn’t have the bread. He went to the most prestigious military school since I’ve known him, he’s a big nerd too; only rebels to get back at his father and when he comes back he gets in trouble. He’s been in juvie for almost the past two years you know?” Kylo spilled out everything. You walked silently taking everything in. “Well, I’m glad for your concern. But, you shouldn’t have told me about him going to jail.” You scolded. “Why?! He clearly hasn’t told you and I’m surprised you didn’t hear about.” Kylo scoffed. “Well, did you tell Rey about how and why you got expelled from DCP?” He fell silent. “That’s different.” He whispered. “Perhaps, but it’s something that should have been done by him.” Kylo kicked the rock in the street, mumbling to himself. “But, I knew he was different.” You turned to him. “When he walked me to the car, he quoted Thomas Malory.” You smiled thinking about how those amber eyes were both sweet and determined. “Who is Thomas Malory?” Kylo asked, still fixated on the rock. “He was the one who wrote about King Arthur and all those Knights.” Kylo still had a blank look. “I-I read that book you gave me.” He changed the subject. “Good! What part?” You smiled. “Well, the pigs are eating everything and the others don’t really dig it.” He laughed. “So you like it so far?” You asked. “So far, yes.” He smiled. You reached Rizzo’s house to see them all hanging out the window waiting for you. “Princess?” He held out his hands to boost you up the to the window. “My Knight.”

P.S: I started reading The Portrait of Dorian Grey.

#Tell Me More #grease #grease au #50s #50s au #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren one shot #kylo ren au #ben #ben solo #ben solo imagine #ben solo au #imagine #imagines #star wars imagine #tfa imagine #swtfa #sw #swtlj #star wars #Star Wars: The Force Awakens #star wars the last jedi #Star Wars: The Last Jedi #drabble #drabbles #kylo ren drabble #kylo ren drabbles #one shot

[theartone]

A Study in Miscommunication - Chapter 7

<<Chapter 1 <Chapter 6

----John's POV----

I couldn't remember the last time I was this happy. I was giddy. It was ridiculous and amazing.

As we drove on, crawling through the endless London traffic I reigned myself in, bit by bit. I should be irritated that he snatched my phone from me instead of asking for it; he came close to picking it straight out of my pocket. He probably would've if I hadn't moved first.

I wondered if I should ask my other questions: What am I doing here? What do you want me to do at this crime scene? Am I even allowed to do this? Why me?

That would probably end poorly so I kept my mouth shut. If Sherlock hadn't thought of those things (especially the last one) I shouldn't encourage it. Besides, I'll probably do something else mortifying.

I shifted in my seat to get more comfortable but I ended up settling closer to him. I could feel the body heat radiating from his leg. I wanted to shift away but I knew if I did it'd look like he made me uncomfortable and I wanted him to like me. The fact that he did make me uncomfortable really didn't help. If he was as good at reading people as he said he'd read why I felt uncomfortable and that would be... uncomfortable.

Recognizing that my thought process was devolving I spent the rest of the trip thinking about surgical procedures and Grandma Watson.

----Sherlock's POV----

I managed to enjoy the silence for two blocks before John shifted and my mind came back on. I wanted to snap at him for interrupting me but his posture wasn't relaxed. That was surprising. He should be basking in the glow of... friendship?

We were friends now, right?

Should I introduce him as my friend to the officers? No, no that wouldn't work. They'd make a big deal of me having friends and that would be weird to John and while John already knew I was weird but there was only so much one person would take before it was too much and I became freakish.

Assistant? But that would imply that we weren't friends... that he was below me. I caught a mental image of John below me and cut off a growl.

I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts and realized my nasal passages were clogging.

That was bad.

Really bad.

Harry Watson may not be a drug addict but alcoholism was close enough for most people. I cursed my weakness. Sure, I had just gotten Lestrade (and therefore my brother) off my back but I shouldn't have pickpocketed that passerby. Or taken that little detour after hanging up with Mrs Hudson.

Why was I always so impulsive?!

On the same note, why did John bring out such strong reactions in me and my thoughts? A train of thought was running through all the different ways to put John's dirty mind to the test instead of being disgusted at the idea of touching another person. The heat from his leg made me crave pressing my leg against his and capturing it.

WHY?

It wasn't the drugs. At least, not entirely. I was clean last night and that was the first time I'd masturbated to porn since I was a teenager. Usually, if I brought it up the expressions of boredom killed my libido. And it had been an age since I'd imagined anything outside of that half-sleep state when waking up.

John was different.

John was perfect.

No, no one was perfect. It had to be an act. He clearly lusted for me. He was probably just making a play to get in my bed.

Then why the outburst in front of Mrs Hudson?

John clearly wasn't thinking long term.

What was his angle?

I started mentally listing to see what I missed: lonely, unhappy, unfulfilled, wants to be useful, wants to work, trained doctor, army medic, adrenaline addiction, bisexual (? is that even a thing? is he just closeted? focus!) bored, likes routines, therapist, trust issues, smart-ish, anger issues, conscience, polite, manners, Mike Stamford, blog-

Blog!

He wrote about my case right before Lestrade came to me. Was that before or after Lestrade forwarded me information? John's blog didn't have timestamps for the entries-

Therapist!

The only information available was "trust issues." It ensured that I looked into him more, that I'd see the blog entry, that I'd see him.

Coincidences?

No.

I'd dismissed it thinking it was all Mycroft and after dismissing John's association with him I didn't think of other possibilities. Stupid!

Of course, it didn't mean that Mycroft didn't set the whole thing up. But, in the texts, he seemed eager to talk to John. And Anthea never even hinted at anything like with the computer.

I looked at John out of the side of my eye; he seemed to be reciting a recipe. Flour, eggs... Oh, fighting an erection. Obvious. Probably linked to a grandparent or something.

Was it?

Was John just acting?

The anonymous commenter... was John a fan?

The real question was: Was John a murderer?

And what would I do if he was?

----John's POV----

Sherlock directed the taxi to pull along the outermost police vehicle and hopped out. He left the door open and I slid across his seat rather than try to fight with my cane in order to get out the door on my side, closing the door behind me. Sherlock started walking and I tried to keep up.

"Did I get anything wrong?"

I swallowed the questions I realized I should have asked, 'What the hell am I doing here?' chief among them, and answered.

"Spot on then. I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock sounded almost disappointed.

I resisted smiling, "Harry is short for Harriet."

Sherlock stopped on the spot and I took a few steps past him expecting him to catch up quickly.

"Harry is your sister."

I was forced to stop since we were within hearing range of the pc. "What am I supposed to be doing here?" I needed direction.

"SISTER." Sherlock spat, angrily.

"No, seriously." I implored. This was an actual crime scene. Suddenly it was all real and I was feeling very uncomfortable. How could I be of use here? I was about to make a tremendous fool of myself. "What am I doing here?"

"There's always something," Sherlock grumbled and walked straight to the blue and white tape, ignoring me completely.

---- Sherlock's POV ----

I directed the cab to stop as close to the scene as he could. John's discomfort was shifting from uncomfortable around me to uncomfortable with the surroundings. That would be useful. But, could be bad too. I need to distract him. "Did I get anything wrong?" Duel purpose of questioning my lead suspect and sating some curiosity.

The cab drove away without asking for payment. I frowned internally but John didn't seem to notice.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have."

Sibling rivalry. Probably older then. Boring.

"Clara and Harry split up, three months ago. They're getting a divorce."

Marriage has been on the rocks quite some time then. Both parties must have been more reluctant to admit the failure because of... children? No. The couple wanted kids but never had any-

"Harry is a drinker," John admitted reluctantly.

Family trait. How tedious.

"Spot on then." And boring. "I didn't expect to be right about everything." Boring, boring, boring!

"Harry is short for Harriet."

Oh!

Well, that's interesting.

They didn't want to admit the failing because they didn't want to add to the statistics. Possibly active in the community. The stress of unconventional sexuality and probable harassment lead to drinking. High paying job but constantly passed over for promotions, discrimination. Traditional family values, factoring John's tone when he said Harriet... John's denial of Mrs Hudson's insinuations...

Say something!

"Harry is your sister." Is that your problem with her? That she's gay? It isn't a sibling rivalry at all? No, that's not it...

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" John tried to change the subject.

"Sister!" I hissed and resumed my stride.

John reiterated his question.

I needed John's honest reactions so I didn't answer him.

"There's always something," I muttered as I factored this new information into John's profile. She probably came out early, while still at school. It would have been the 80's... I've been going about this all wrong. Stupid!

Sally was watching the line. I needed her to speak first, she didn't look happy to see me. But that was normal. Her first words would set the tone of the interaction. I was hoping she had forgiven me but each step seemed to cloud her face. She was so smart normally, her choice in men was holding her career back more than I ever did.

Please be friendly, please have forgiven me, we were friends once. C'mon Sally. Please. I'm already weird enough...

"Hullo, Freak!"

Fantastic.

First crime scene back and: I'm high, may have brought the murder as my assistant, if John isn't the murderer he's interesting and will possibly be my new flatmate, he's the only person who I've even considered in any case and my mind is stuck in a sex-loop on a person who has problems with his own sexuality. And probably mine.

And I'm being harassed by the only person who's ever been pleasant to me on Lestrade's team who has... yes, hooked up with Anderson. Again.

If I stay professional maybe she will too? "I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Why?"

Be nice, be nice, be nice. "I was invited." Be nice...

"Why?"

Be polite, be polite, it's your own fault I reminded myself, be polite. "I think he wants me to take a look."

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"

I let myself under the tape. "Always, Sally." Since we're not going to be civil I can at least use this to my advantage. I took a deep sniff. "I know you didn't make it home last night."

John moved closer before I was done with Sally and my hand went to the tape. John was going to come, I wanted to see his reactions, I needed an assistant and John needed a job. There was no reason John shouldn't come.

"Ah-ah-ah." She moved to stop John. "Who's this?"

That's a very good question, Sally.

Chapter 8>

#moved from ao3 #asim #a study in miscommunication #preslash johnlock #sherlock fanfic #finished story #updating as i edit #chapter 7

[rustleandeddy]

Chapter 13

Rustle buzzed about in the wobbling bubble of air he’d dragged down with him. For a last ditch effort to solve the issue of not being able to breathe water, the bubble was proving to be quite a workable solution. It took concentration to keep it in place around him, but beyond that, if he was focused on his work, he could almost forget he was even underwater.

He’d found his way back to the jagged ground where he’d lost Eddy and was scanning through the wavy surface of his bubble for the lost merman’s bag. He grinned as he spotted it, not a dozen yards from where he expected it to be.

“At least I’m still good at navigating by the wind,” he murmured to himself, flitting to touch down on the shattered black stone and silt of the cavern floor.

He tugged open the flap.

“The spell book…” he said, almost reverently.

In his journey back to this place, he’d been wracking his brain for what he could or should do to find and rescue his lost friend. An idea had come to him, but before he could even attempt it, he would have to liberate the spellbook from the bag. The task was more easily said than done. The book was many times his size, and though fairies were stronger than they looked, he was by no means the strongest fairy he knew. He wriggled into the bag. His improvised air supply caused it to bulge and billow. No matter how he heaved, pushed, buzzed, or shoved, he couldn’t get the tome to shift.

“All of the magic I could ever want to learn, and I can’t get to it!” he cried in frustration.

He took a moment to rest and think about a solution. All of this traveling, and all of the magic he had been using, had him utterly exhausted. His tiny body burned with fatigue. Now that he’d taken a moment of respite, he discovered just how much of a fight it was to keep his eyes open. He laid back and gazed up at the bag above him. Inflated as it was with the air he’d dragged down with him, he could almost imagine it as a little home. It was cramped enough to make him uncomfortable—small spaces were not a fairy’s favorite—but the open end was enough to mitigate those feelings. He fluttered his wings a bit to get them to lay flat beneath him, then put his aching mind to work solving his problem.

Rustle’s imagination offered up meager, ill-conceived solutions. He could try wedging the spellbook open while it was still inside the bag. … No, there wasn’t room. He could cut the bag open. … No, it was rubbery and tough. Being tossed about as much as it was hadn’t so much as torn or punctured it. Even with the digging claw, he didn’t imagine he would be able to get through it.

Bit by bit, his imagination shifted to other, more enjoyable tasks. He found himself reminiscing about his home. So bright during the day. Nice and cool a night. Predators never came very near. The flowers were heavy with nectar. Oh… Nectar. The sweets Eddy provided were passable, but nothing compared to a sweet, sticky draught of honeysuckle. He could feel it trickling down his throat and spilling over his chin. He could hear the language of his people, complex and musical, not filtered through a spell. It was such a wonderful place, he wondered why he’d ever gotten it in his head that he needed to leave its borders to explore. The image of it dancing in his head was enticing enough to push even the magnificent and compassionate Merantia from his thoughts.

The reverie shattered when he felt himself tipping upward.

“What?” he snorted in a daze.

The book he was laying atop flipped up on end, dumping him out into the warm water. He flailed about and tried to get his bearings as the former contents of the bag plunked down around him and the bag streaked toward the surface. He swam after it and splashed into the air to take a breath, then gazed down. The bag was floating on the surface.

It took him a second or two to realize what had happened. He must have dozed off. Without his mind focused upon it, the bubble he’d dragged down with him bobbed back to the surface, ripping the bag along with it and tipping its contents out. He may not have had the strength to lift it by himself, but his inborn affinity for manipulating air meant the bubble he’d formed was more than a match for it.

“Wow…”  he said. “I wish I’d done that on purpose.”

He prodded at the bulging bag until it upended. The trapped air spilled out and it drifted back toward the floor of the cavern. The half-second of sleep and the rude awakening had done little to restore his strength, but now that the book was free the promise of its contents was enough to spur him downward, once more with a fresh bubble of air in tow. He lifted the cover of the book. Words formed in his mind as he swept his eyes across the shapes. It was different this time. The words didn’t have a precise meaning. They were incantations, not meant to be understood. They were meant to sculpt mystic forces. It wasn’t as simple as knowing how the words sounded, he needed to be able to recite them properly. Failure to do so correctly could produce a malfunctioning spell like the one that Eddy had muddled through to enable them to communicate. Doing so with a less innocuous spell could have far more troubling results.

“I can’t try water for air. For all I know if I botch it I could end up unable to breath either. But there must be something that can help me, and that won’t hurt me if I cast it wrong…”

He leafed through the pages. Slowly, as though the thoughts themselves had become jealous for being ignored, he felt his adoration and devotion to the exquisite and infallible Merantia weave back into his mind.

“I should learn something impressive…” he mused. “Just think how proud my dear Merantia will be when she discovers I’ve learned the magic of her people…”

#

Bult, Sitz, and Cul swam along the rift, gazing at the sea floor lit by their combined glow.

“You ever seen a farm, Sitz?” Bult asked.

“Nope,” Sitz said.

“How are we supposed to find one if we don’t know what it looks like?”

“We know what the rift looks like, right?”

“Sure.”

“So we swim until we see a part of it that looks like someone’s been digging around in it. Simple.”

Bult nodded. “That’s good thinking.”

“No. That’s just ordinary thinking. How long have we been swimming and you didn’t speak up to ask that question until now? What were you doing if not watching for something out of the ordinary?”

“I don’t know. I was just sort of following. I figured one of you knew.”

“Lucky we did,” Sitz said.

He turned to Cul.

“Or at least,  lucky I did. Because Cul here’s clammed up again.”

“Hmm?” Cul said, looking up at the sound of his name.

“You heard me. You were sure chatty with that shore-lover. And now that you’re back among your own you’re quiet as a jellyfish,” Sitz said. “I never knew you had a taste for the shore.”

“It’s interesting, that’s all.”

“Plenty more to see down here than there is up there,” Bult said. “The three of us have seen more of the world than any shore-lover or surface-dweller ever will.”

“I know that. But the thing is, I’ve seen what I’ve seen. And I haven’t seen what she’s seen. New is new, even if there’s not much of it.”

“So it’s just novelty then,” Sitz said doubtfully.

“I don’t like your tone, Sitz,” Cul said.

“You were making eyes at her. Which is fine. Nothing wrong with having maid here and there, so long as they don’t meet. But those weren’t the eyes you were making. Nomads and shore-lovers don’t work together in the long haul.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sitz.”

“He thinks you’re falling in love with her,” Bult said.

“I know what he’s talking about,” Cul snapped. “I’m saying he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I just met her today! How fast do you think a merman and fall in love?”

“Not that fast, but you’ve had plenty of time to think you’re falling in love. Plenty of time to get dragged by the current far enough along to find yourself in a bad place when it finally lets you go.”

“What do you care about it anyway? Since when do you have an opinion about who I talk to?”

“Since I’m the one who’ll have to drag your mopey tail around behind me when we head on our way and you’re left pining for her.”

“Has that ever happened?”

“Not to you maybe, but to plenty of others. Remember Hadge? Tried to take a shore-lover with him. The shore-lover couldn’t keep up, ended up costing us four whole tides and a rendevous before they finally cut it off.”

Bult nodded. “And then we had to deal with him and his heartache.”

“That was after we did business with that same mermaid for over a year,” Cul said. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there, Sitz.”

“Care for a wager?”

“On what?”

“If it turns out you’re falling for this… What’s her name?”

“Mira.”

“If it turns out you’re falling for Mira, I get the gem she paid you. If we leave her behind and you don’t drag the floor like a bottom feeder, I’ll give you mine.”

“Deal. Easiest gem I ever made. And look. There’s the farm. Let’s go.”

The three came upon the orderly, well-maintained rows of fronds and swam down among them.

“Say… Whoever this missing brother is, he does good work,” Bult said.

“So now we found the place, what are we looking for?” Sitz said.

“You know what the sea floor looks like after a bad trembler. Anything that looks like it happened recently and might have hurt someone. Simple,” Cul said.

They drifted down and began their investigation. Bult, in particular, was intrigued by the bed of bivalves that made up the pearl farm.

“Pearls… They’re precious and all, but it never made sense to me that of all the things you find down here, it’s the pearls that surface folk like most.”

“I blame it on the shore-lovers,” Sitz said. “It’s the same as when you sold those blue snail shells to that couple in Deep Swell and then when we swung around for the next trip everyone wanted one. Nothing special about blue snail shells, except that you can’t get them around Deep Swell. But the right person comes along and offers the right thing for sale, and suddenly everyone wants it. Good riddance. It’s hard enough getting the good stuff for ourselves. Those crystals from the bottom of the Trensgate? Can you imagine if the surface folk started trying to buy them too? And then they’d just hang them from the prow of their boats or whatever it is they do with precious things…”

Bult knocked on the shell of one of the larger clams. “How often do you think he checks these? …”

“Bult, we’re here to find Mira’s brother, not to steal things,” Cul snapped.

“If her brother’s dead, by the time someone comes to see to this, it’ll have grown back, right?”

Sitz slapped Bult on the back of the head. “You idiot. They’d still know, because it would have been bigger if it wasn’t taken. … Now these fronds. No one will miss a few of these.”

He tugged a few of the seaweed fronds from the ground and coiled them up.

“Sitz!” Cul growled.

“What’s done is done. Not like I can put them back,” he said, grinning greasily as he slipped the purloined goods into one of his many pockets.

“What difference does it make? We already don’t do business with Barnacle,” Bult said. “So what if they think we steal? Shore-lovers barely move around anyway.”

“If someone robbed me when they’d been hired to help me, even if I was a shore-lover, I’d make certain I spread the word. Now let’s split up. And no one steal anything else,” Cul said. “We’ll meet back here once we’ve checked enough of the rift to be certain nothing might have happened near enough to the farm for someone working here to be hurt.”

Cul swam forward, taking the center of the rift. Sitz and Bult looked to each other knowingly before taking the north and south walls respectively.

#

Mab hammered at an axle and stepped back. It had only been a few minutes since she’d started working on it, less than half the time Eddy had spent, but that was evidently plenty. She’d completely transformed a rickety assembly of cobbled-together gears and struts into something that Eddy would have believed had been forged specifically for this purpose. A two-wheeled cart of sorts, with its seat slung between the wheels and low to the ground.

“Let’s see how that works for you,” she said, stowing her tools and slipping her gauntlets back on.

Eddy slid himself up to it and dragged himself into the sling. It was a tricky bit of maneuvering. The cart was eager to roll away from him as he tried to mount it. After a painful flop forward, he managed to slap his tail in place on the sling. He dug his claws into the ground and pulled forward. Sure enough, hand over hand, he was able to “walk” along in much the same position he normally swam, and all without scraping his already somewhat-raw tail along the stone.

“It works! A land roller! I can go on land as easy as you, and without magic!” He paused. “I need magic for the breathing, and for now the talking. Also, it would hurt me very much to go on land high up without magic. But now it would take less magic!”

“Enough tinkering,” Mab said. “I want to see one of these diggers finally working after wasting so much time trying to fix them.”

“Yes! We go! Take with you that pile of gears, please. Those are the parts that I think are missing.”

Mab gathered the indicated parts and they went on their way. While it was certainly faster and easier to wheel along with the cart, it was also a great deal louder, but Eddy didn’t seem to mind. He pulled himself forward with a broad, toothy grin.

“How did you get here, Mab?” he said.

“Long story.”

“I like long stories. We are living in a long story right now! Your story can be part of the story when I tell it to the people back home.”

“So you think you’re getting back home, do you?”

“Why would fate send us on a fun adventure to learn all new things, and then not let us get back to tell about the adventure. Every adventure ends with someone going home again.”

“That’s not how my ‘adventure’ ended…”

“That’s because your adventure isn’t over yet. But tell me the first part, please!”

She sighed. “I thought I missed having someone to talk to… Fine. But listen close. This isn’t the sort of story I’m liable to tell twice.”

She cleared her throat.

“What do you know about mining?”

“Very much! I have a mine. I got here from my mine.”

“Good. I had a mine too. My family did. It ran dry long before I was born.” She tipped her head. “Poor choice of words. It was never dry. We were close to the sea, and water was always finding its way in.”

“I can see that would be a problem for a bad swimmer.”

“What I meant when I said it ran dry was that we’d mined out everything we could make use of, in the tunnels and caverns that wouldn’t flood. The copper was gone in my grandfather’s time. We found some good flint, not worth much but always worth something. That was gone by my father’s time. Now even the strongest and most beautiful stone was mostly gone. When you’re a dwarf, if you can’t find what you need, as often as not, the solution is to go deeper. So we dug and dug, and dug and dug and dug. Finally I found this vast cavern. No telling where it connected to the surface, but the air was fresh, so I climbed down. It went on forever, or so it seemed. Down and out. I didn’t know the surface as well as my brother, who had been working another branch of the mine, so I didn’t realize that all that digging and exploring had taken me out below the sea.”

She shut her eyes.

“Old adage. A dwarf has no place above the trees or below the waves. Put your pick through a wall and flood out a perfectly good shaft and you’ll soon understand just how much we hate water. But I didn’t know how far I’d gone. And I was too busy dreaming about just what we could do with a cavern so large. If I could prove I was the first to find it, it would belong to the Masonmill family. This place was large enough to found a city. So I did what any good dwarf would do. I started sampling the stone. Stupid. Should have waited.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a terrible sense of smell.”

Eddy looked up, puzzled. “Why is smell a thing for mining?”

Mab scratched her neck. “Sometimes we strike firedamp without knowing. I suppose it wouldn’t be a problem for you. You’d just see the bubbles rising.”

“Firedamp?”

“It’s like bad air that explodes if it touches flame.”

“Flame!” Eddy said brightly. “I have just seen flame for the first time. It is hot. Very much of it, and very fast, would be very bad.”

“I know…” She said. “It’s got a very distinctive smell, but I can’t smell it. At some point while I was digging I must have found some of it. If the cavern wasn’t so big, I probably would have died. You can’t breathe the stuff, you see. Instead, it found one of my lanterns back near the entrance before it found me. Big explosion. Big cave-in. Water started rushing in from everywhere. By the time it had settled enough that I could think, the way back was blocked. I could only follow every fresh path I found to try to stay ahead of the water. My food ran out, my water ran out. Eventually I found this strange, spongy substance growing through the stone. I tried to take a sample and the whole wall gave out. I tumbled down into this place.”

She shook her head.

“I really ought to learn not to take samples anymore. Anyway, I’d ended up here. That stuff grew over the hole, and any new holes I dig either get grown over as well or spew water. So I’ve been living off these fronds and those skitter-clamps for longer than I care to think about. How did you get here?”

“My friend felt air in my mine, and when we went there, I cast a spell I shouldn’t have cast and ended up in a place with lots of tunnels. One had Borgle. Then the earth shook and I got buried, but I woke Borgle up and he dug me to here.”

Mab shut her eyes.

“The quakes… They’ve been getting worse, haven’t they? Lately they’ve been bad enough to shake more diggers loose. That’s what I thought sent this one down here,” Mab said, pointing to Borgle, now just a short distance away. “If that stuff wasn’t growing on the ceiling, holding it all together, I think this cavern would have collapsed ages ago.”

Eddy excitedly rattled up to the top of the hill.

“Borgle! Look, I found a friend who can help make you not broken!” he said.

Borgle released an enthusiastic chime. The points of light in its functional eyes shifted to follow Mab as she walked a slow circle around Borgle. She looked like she was appraising the digger for sale.

“Borgle is a very good digger. Maybe we cannot dig out of here, but if we can dig out of here, I’m sure Borgle can dig us out of here. As long as we can figure out how to ask nicely enough,” Eddy said.

“You are talking to it,” Mab said flatly.

“Yes! How else would he know what it is I am trying to say?”

“This is a mechanism. You wouldn’t talk to your pick.”

“Sometimes I talk to my pick,” Eddy defended. “Mining is long and lonely and talking makes the time pass. When my pick does not cut the rock very much and I need it to cut the rock very much, I yell at the pick.”

Mab paused. “Granted. It can do a bit of good to shout at a recalcitrant bit of apparatus. But you don’t very well expect it to listen.”

“Borgle, make some noises!”

The digger produced three deliberate grinding whirs. Mab’s expression dropped.

“So it thinks then.”

“Yes! It is very good. Very much a wonderful, new thing.”

“New isn’t always good, Eddy.” Mab said. “If a thing can think, it can disagree. Fine for a friend. Lousy for a hammer.”

“Good that Borgle is a friend, then,” Eddy said.

Mab looked doubtfully between them.

“It doesn’t much matter. There’s no two ways about this. If we want a way out, this is the thing to do it. Let me see what sort of damage you’ve done to it.”

Mab peered into the open hatch and pawed at the loosened parts and unpopulated slots and holes. Eddy rattled forward to give Borgle a reassuring pat on the “nose.”

“Mab is very good with hammering and things, Borgle. You see? She made me this thing for rolling! We’ll have you fixed soon, and then, you can dig us to a better place!”

#fairy #merman #the adventures of rustle and eddy

[kdfrqqg]

Heaven’s Comfort Part 5

Cas X Reader Word count: 3,101 Warnings: Smut, Oral, language

Summary: Cas and Reader’s relationship heats up after a deeply personal hunt.

Catch up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A day had passed since the peck on the cheek; Castiel had spent the night in your bed simply embracing you, once again.  You woke up completely refreshed but alone.  You wondered where Cas had gone off to but you weren’t concerned because you were ready to take on the day.  Quickly, you remembered it was Saturday and the only thing that was going to get done today was that Dean would wash the car.  Sam made it a point not to find a case on the weekends, if possible.  You looked at your phone, it was already 10 am.  You must have forgotten to set your alarm or Cas turned it off knowing you would want to rest after yesterday.

Wandering though out the bunker, your first stop was the kitchen, you still smelled cooked bacon.  There was a plate of food in spot; Dean must have left it for you.  It was good, a side of bacon with potatoes and onions and he used real butter, bless that man.  After eating, you of course found yourself in the library; you were in search of a book that you hadn’t read yet.  You pulled a few books down and started a couple of chapters in each.  Hours past, they were all Men of Letter’s journals or lore books; you weren’t really interested in that right now.   You wanted a novel, something with a story that could hold your attention for hours.  You went to your bedroom to look through your personal stash.  Seriously, did I really read all of these? You thought.  You must have finished your last brown paper bag worth of books two weeks ago and you hadn’t gone shopping for cheap books since.  Finally, you remembered that bargain basement romance novel you bought the first day of the hunt this week.  You didn’t care that it was dry and corny, you were desperate. Now, where did you put it?  You found the book buried under dirty clothes in your duffel.   You wanted to read in bed but it was too early for PJs so you just took off your shirt and jeans.  You propped yourself up on about a half dozen pillows.  You settled in to read with only your favorite pair of blue fuzzy socks and matching black bra and panty set. You were super comfy, sinking into spot as you picked up where you left off the other day, finding the page you had turned down.  Chapter seven was really when the book started to get good.  Celeste was watching Blake, the farm hand; throw bales of hay, while she sipped lemonade in the kitchen of her daddy’s farm house.  It was super cheesy.  You were picturing Cas not Blake throwing the hay, his lean, tanned body all sweaty from hard work and the sun.  You were getting turned on.  You weren’t sure if it was the book or if you were just really horny.  About a week or two ago now, you tried to touch yourself in the shower but it didn’t really work.  You needed your bed; you needed to lie down so you were left unsatisfied and still frustrated.  It was hard, normally, you were all alone in your room and you could touch yourself as much as you wanted.  Unfortunately, with the never sleeping Cas, lying next to you, your opportunities were limited.  You started to slowly drag your knuckles down the edge of your body.  Your left hand began to grope your breast hard, rubbing across your bra trying to harden your nipple.  All of a sudden you heard a quick knock on the door, you sat straight up. You hadn’t even gotten your hand in your panties yet.    You sighed and recited a quick mantra in your head a few times to calm yourself, ‘Act like everything is fine, Cas doesn’t know what you were doing.’ “Hey there you are.” Cas said casually, stepping into your room with a stack of books in his hand and a smile on his face, “I thought you’d be in the library.” “I was but I couldn’t find anything I wanted to read.” You flashed him the book you were working on today.  You realized that he may not understand why there is some big breasted woman and a Fabio wanna be on the front of the cover.  Most of the books that you had read together were period works of fiction and everyone was normally covered, all the time.   He didn’t even ask if he could join you, yesterday you had made that perfectly clear you wanted him near you but right now you wanted some alone time.  You thought about saying something but you bit your tongue once you saw him begin to strip down.  Shit, it was like all your fantasies coming true.   Fuck, don’t look, you told yourself and you breathed out loudly.  Cas had only recently become comfortable stripping down to just his underwear.  He turned around to fold his clothes neatly in the chair, his toned back muscles flexed as he moved; they were in serious need of being rubbed down with massage oils.  You were getting so turned on, this here was the torture that you lived with recently, but of course everything else was great.  You smiled when you realized he was wearing a pair of the boxer briefs you had purchased for him a few weeks ago.  Remembering, telling the guys at the store, ‘I don’t care if he is an angel; it’s gross that he only owns one pair of underwear.  I am buying these.  End of discussion!’  You wanted to take it slow for him, but right now you were so needy.  You told yourself, ‘(Y/N), you can do this, you can lie next to Cas, reading your book and everything will be fine.’  You exhaled loudly trying to reset your mind. He climbed on top of the sheets and adjusted his pillows to find a comfortable position.  No words were spoken just shy glances and coy smiles were shared.  His scent was like honey and peppermint today, why did he have to look and smell so damn good.  He opened his book and you continued to read yours.  You were ok for about thirty minutes; you had time to calm down.  Then the words on the page taunted you, TWITCHING, HUNGER, PRESSED. They just popped off the page and sent a shock wave down your whole body to your core.  You couldn’t help yourself your left hand began to trace down your frame again.  Your touch felt so good, you moaned quietly but it was loud enough for Cas to hear you.  Out your peripheral vision, you saw Cas look at you and raise his eye brows.  You didn’t dare make direct eye contact.  You thought you should stop reading this but you didn’t, you were now addicted.  Your hand moved closer to your inner thigh before you traced it back up your body.  Your fingers grazed over your clavicle then over your supple cleavage.  Another moan sprang from your mouth, shit; it was like your body was betraying you.  You sucked your lips into your mouth, you couldn’t moan again. “Your book must be good?” Cas asked.  You didn’t say anything; you couldn’t be sure what was going to come out of your mouth.   “If it’s good, you should read it to me.” His suggestion brought a look of embarrassment to your face that he had never seen.  No one would have ever accused you of being shy so for you to be embarrassed it was out of character for you.   “Cas, ummm… I don’t think that would be very appropriate.” You told him.  He had a look of confusion and tilted his head slightly at you. “I don’t understand. We read all the time together.” He emphasized. “Yeah, we do but this is a romance novel.” You tried to explain. “We read Pride and Prejudice and that was a romance.”  He informed you. “Well, this is very different than P&P, Cas.” You mumbled, “I’m just not comfortable reading this out loud to you.” you reasoned with him more. “I still don’t understand?” now he was asking and you felt a need to tell him something. “Because this is-is…” you huffed, thinking of the correct words, “the literary equivalent of Dean’s porn!”  His face went blank as he tried to process what you just said.  He had watched porn before and knew what physical effects it had on his own vessel, so he should know what it was currently doing to you; you at least hoped he knew. “Dean likes his porn and clearly you are enjoying this book.  I still think you should read it to me.  Maybe it’s something that I will also enjoy.” “Cas…” you whined.  His baby blues gently looked into yours.  You were putty; you might as well not fight it and he knew that he had won you over.   With a grin, he said, “Oh and make those voices too.”  You shot him a death stare before your sank deep down the bed, covering your face with the book from the near certain mortification you were about to experience.   You breathed out loudly from under the book, ok; you were going to do this.  One swift motion, you sat up, turned to him and crossed your legs.  You flipped back to the beginning of chapter nine and began to read out loud.

Celeste’s father had left the property for an overnight business trip.  After watching, Blake shoveling bales of hay almost all morning she knew that he would desire refreshment and maybe a nice rub down.  She found Blake in the barn with his shirt off.  Her sex ached as she gazed upon his toned skin.  

You continued to read a couple of pages and then the pre-sex panting and moaning was coming up.  You weren’t sure how to handle this.  Do you go full force or read it with a straight face?  At first you were timid.

“Oh Blake!” She gasped.

Cas looked interested when you moaned a little.  He started to stare at your lips as you read; you loved the way he looked at you. You were louder this time with more passion in your voice.

“I want you! Please! Blake! Don’t tease me!” Celeste moaned.  

Blake pushed Celeste’s panties to the side as he forcefully shoved his first two fingers inside of Celeste’s sex.

“Oh! Yes Blake! More! More! Please Blake!” Celeste’s groans filled the small barn.  

Cas stopped you, “(Y/N) can you read that page again?” he asked shyly.  Really? You thought, this what already difficult.  “Can you also change Blake’s name to mine?” he requested.   “Wait, what?” you asked back.  Trying to process what you just heard. “I want to hear you say my name the way you said his.” You looked down biting your bottom lip, quickly covered your face with the book again as you contemplated his request.  You pulled the book away from your face and stared back at Cas, a fiendish smile crept across your face.  You were confident now, with a sultry bed room voice you read.

“Oh Cas!” She gasped.

Your core clinched the first time your said his name like that.  Your right hand caressed your outer thigh as you rutted your covered pussy into the bed for some relief.  

“I want you! Please! Cas! Don’t tease me!” (Y/N) moaned.  

You were louder this time, if the guys had been in the hallway they would have heard you.  Cas watched, his eyes were blown dark with lust, as you tried to get your release without being touched.  You read the next line quickly in your head and placed the book face down on the bed.  You looked Cas right in his smoldering almond shaped eyes and moaned loudly.

“Oh! Yes Cas!” you closed your eyes, tilting your head back and you bit your bottom lip again with a smile, you body shivered before the next phrase came out, “More! More! Please Cas!”

Before you opened your eyes, the space between your lips became nonexistence as Cas pressed you into the mattress.  Your lips had already become flushed and full, his lips tingled as he carefully filled your open mouth with his tongue.  You synced your pressure of your kisses to his; letting him set the pace.  His honey flavored lips were absolutely delicious as his hand glided over your lower neck along your collarbone while the other wrapped tighter around your waist.  Cas stopped kissing you for a moment, searching your face for any hesitation, there was none.  He steadily peppered kisses from your jaw line down to the top line of your bra.  You closed your eyes taking in the feeling of his fingers and lips over your body.  Moans gently released from your mouth, but they were softer now.   “Why did I wait so long?” He questioned you.  A toothy smile spread across your face, you weren’t going to respond to that, instead you grabbed the back of his head and pull him into a deep kiss.  His hand moved from your chest down your torso to your bent closed knees.  He smoothly pressed his hand in between your legs; the feeling sent a pulse straight to your core.  You broke away from the kiss and threw your head back as a low growl of a moan escaped your lips.  You were so aroused that it wasn’t going to take much to push you over your edge.  Cas’ expanding erection rubbed against your outer thigh, you squirmed from his touch needing more.  You reached to put your hand down his boxers, he stopped you, pinning both of your hands above your head.  The smile in his eyes was one you had never seen, “I just want to touch you,” he swiftly sucked you into his kiss; you barely let out an OK, before he sprinkled more kisses on your neck.  The way his stubble coasted across your tender skin made your giggle and squirm a little.  You loved that he could hold you down with just one hand.  He finally let you go as both of his hands streamed down your edge of your shape.  He repositioned himself between your legs; he crept down your body rapidly kissing every inch he could.  You wanted to see him better, you propped yourself on your elbows and reached behind you to undo the hook of your bra.  You didn’t want him to fumble and get flustered with the hook but you wanted him to be the one to expose your breasts.  He made it to your pussy, your black panties were soaked by now, his kisses were slow and more deliberate as he kissed the outer edges of your panties.  “May I touch you here?” he asked. Those words sent another shock though you, your legs clenched around his shoulders as you caressed your engorged breasts. “Yes! Cas! Please!” you moaned with a satisfied smile.   He moved back up your body now looking at you directly, nervously he said, “My experience in this area is limited. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You reassured him, “What you are doing is perfect, Honey!  I promise I won’t be disappointed.” You grinded delicately against him and claimed another exquisite kiss from those perfect chapped lips.  He carefully slid your bra off your shoulders, kissing and caressing as every new piece of flesh was bared to his love.  Your hands searched across his back touching the little ripples of muscle.  Then his tongue licked the outer rim of your nipple, he slipped his hand between your bodies and down your panties.  Your hands let go him as you laid back ready for ecstasy.  You were so hungry for him; your walls were already quivering as Cas moved his fingers through your slick folds.  His mouth circled your nipple as he tasted you even more, your normally small breast had swelled to the point that they had started to hurt.  One of your hands started to brush against your breast while Cas sucked hard on your nipple.  Incoherent words dibbled from your mouth, Cas loved to see this way.  It pushed him to vigorously rub your clit, while he nestled in between your breasts.  His hand pulsated in side you.  Finally, you released a loud moan, “Oh Cas!” as you climaxed from his touch.  It was difficult to catch your breath. “Was that good (Y/N)?” he asked.   “Cas, that was wonderful!”  You gasped, pressing him in a deep kiss. It only took you a moment to recover, you used your body weight to propel yourself on top of Cas.  “Now it’s my turn.” You informed him; he didn’t try and stop you this time.  You had been waiting to touch him for so long.  You slithered down his body as you removed his boxers revealing his long thick perfect cock.  You settled between his legs and pumped his shaft with two hands because he was just that long.   “(Y/N)! Oh! Yes!” he moaned.  That was all the encouragement you needed to hear but you wanted to tease him a bit.  You gently pressed kisses into his hip bone, continuing to stoke his twitching length.  Your tongue made a zig zag pattern across his stomach and found its way down to the tip of his cock.  You licked a strip or two up and down his dick making sure to lap up any pre-cum forming at his head.  You were delightfully surprised that it tasted sweet, like cinnamon and vanilla. “Do you want me to continue?” you asked placing your finger to your mouth. “Yes! Please!” he pleaded.  Your lips sank down on his shaft; you began to bob your head and relaxing your jaw.  He thrust his hips up; your sucking became more intense as his moans became bolder.    His hand wrapped around your locks near the back of your head.  He wanted more and you were going to give it to him.  You meticulously moved over his cock, almost coming all the way off before sliding right back on.  He bucked more into your mouth.  He was about to pop.  You were unrelenting until finally he pressed you firmly down on his cock, “Damn! (Y/N)!,” he screamed out,  then his warm sweet cum poured in your mouth.   The two of you were content and fell into each other’s arms. I love yous were shared during the course of the evening as you explored each other more deeply and your bodies became one.

@greenappleeyes @bandobsession98 @jensen-jarpad​

I love all the likes and reblogs but I really do want your feedback. Please leave me a comment; let me know what worked or what didn’t. If you hated it let me know what I could do different. It may determine how I write my next fic.

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#cas x reader smut #castiel x reader #cas #castiel #heaven's comfort series #heaven's comfort #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #supernatural #spn fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfic #my writing

[jo-the-schmo]

Breaking...Ch.14

Masterlsit Part 13 is here lol

A/N: This is my shortest chapter yet and it’s dull af I’m so sorry.

Wordcount:1855 (v short)

Warnings: Idk at this pint, does disappointment count?

Tags: @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty@meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demi-godamit @gum-and-chips@sweaterkitty-fluff@pinkyiger7 @littlemissshortcakes@msageofenlightenment @unprofessional-inhumanbeing@fandom-panda-221@hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple @ashwolfcub@myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate @superwholockbooknerd526 @frozengal2013@lmaodedhaha@itsmikayblr @sarmar29 @arya-durin-77 @phantastic-fandoms@hoshihime98 @shinigamired @martapetrovic @robotic-space @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit2 (lol) @asprinkleofmermaids @pinkyiger7 (I’m tagging you twice my friend!) If anyone else wants to be tagged just send me an ask!

Breaking Plans

It’s been a solid week since you fought with Philip and neither of you has said a word to each other since. You wanted to, you really did, you just didn’t know what to say. You wanted to apologize because you knew you were in the wrong; you were adult enough to admit that. All he was wanted to do was help you and you just metaphorically slapped him in the face. You felt like a grade A certified asshole. Completely miserable, honestly you had a better time working for Burr because at least then you had something to look forward to. Writing to him, waiting to see him, dreaming about him. Now you had nothing. He was here, you saw him every day and it hurt you. The way he looked at you hurt you, it wasn’t a look of hatred or even of disappointment. He was confused. His eyes alone said it all, he didn’t even have to ask out loud the questions he wanted answers to. ‘Why did you say that? Did I do something wrong? Am I really just some kid to you?’ Those questions were something you had no problem answering. Why did I say that? Because I’m stupid. Did you do something wrong? No, of course not! Are you just some kid to me? No! No, I love you I think? You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to do something. As worried as you were about other possible questions he may ask, you had to make this nonsense stop. You messed with your hair for a second before getting off your bed, making your way through the main room and up the stairs. You looked down at the hall and felt your stomach turn. You couldn’t help but feel nervous as you looked at his door. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down and went up to his door. From in the room you could hear a furious scratching sound. You needed a way to start off, an idea formed in your head. You gave the door a soft knock, the sound stopped.

“Who is it?” He called out from behind the door.

“It’s me…” You responded, he sighed.

“I’m writing.” He said simply. Okay, time to try the idea. You cleared your throat and straightened your posture to help your diaphragm.

“Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” You sang softly, you heard him shift.

“What?”

“Just let me in, that would be enough.” You continued.

“What are you doing?”

“What? Do I need to step up my game? Alright, you asked for it mister!” You put your hand in front of your mouth and did the best beat box you could manage, doing it for a moment before stopping and trying to rap. “My name is Y/N, I can be a poet! I’ll recite this poem just to show you. But I can’t say your mine, you have kind eyes but you probably hate mine. I practice Latin and watch you play piano with your mother! I called you mister to prove you’re not a bother! This crazy day’s making me say what I think! Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq!” You heard him chuckle as you adjusted to a more soft voice and more melodic song tone. “Take a break! I can’t fully explain what happened this winter while you were up state! But I’m taking this advice from your father. There’s something I know, I need to be more stark, please let me in before the day turns dark!” You stopped for a moment and heard footsteps approaching you, the door opened slowly.

“I’ll try to pull myself away.” He took a step back to let you enter and you did so, closing the door behind you.

“My dearest Philip Hamilton, it’s really hard to tell you this. Sit down with me and compromise, we can’t stop till we’re appeased. Don’t tell your little sister, Titania will remind you, you’re my favorite Hamilton, even when you can’t look at me. In those letters I received from you a few weeks ago I noticed some things in the way your phrased. I realized my feelings, I must defend this. When I woke I knew I must protect and say…My dearest Philip Hamilton, I’m sorry for not being fearless. I’ll say it again, you’re my dearest, Philip Hamilton… Anyway, all just the same! I’ll tell you what I can muster, I know I seem evasive. But it’s to protect your family from what happened while you were upstate. I know you’re very busy, I know you’re more important! But I’m addressing my flawed mess and I just can’t wait! You can still push me away. But I like you only a moment away!” You sang.

“My starlight, please come here. I should’ve come to you before today!” He matched your melody and held out his arms. You couldn’t help but run into them, both of you hugging each other tightly. You pressed the side of your face into his shoulder. “Oh my starlight…” He sang softly.

“My sunshine…”  You didn’t even sing that last line, tears began to trickle down your cheeks and onto his shoulder. He smoothed down your hair and held you close. “I’m sorry…I don’t want you to get hurt, I know I can be really defensive but I’m trying to open up more because I want to open up to you! I care about you and I don’t want you to be upset, you aren’t just some kid to me, I’m sorry I said that, I didn’t mean it. I don’t think I can tell you what happened yet, but it’s not because I’m in danger or anything I just literally can’t say it for a lot of reasons. I’m really stressed out about this and I can’t even come close to describing how upset I am that I can’t tell you because I want to, I don’t want to lie to you but I’m doing everything I can right now. I’m so sorry-“ He cut off your rambling.

“Shh, it’s okay. I get it, I understand. I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing. All these responsibilities you keep maintain and creating in your life. I wish you’d trust me more, yes, but I realized some things too. I am just a kid; I know you just said I’m not but I am. I have a lot of growing up I need to do.”

“What are you talking about? You’re more mature than any other man I’ve met honestly.” You weren’t lying, times have changed drastically in your time compared to now.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time actually, Grandfather helped me realize it. History has its eyes on me and I want the person our nation remembers to be fair, passionate and wise. That’s why I’ve decided something…”

“W-What have you decided?” Don’t tell me…Philly?

“I’m going to boarding school next fall.” He informed somberly, he didn’t look at you but you could tell he was a bit sad. He’s…He’s leaving? “So? What do you think?” He asked.

“I, uh, that’s good I guess. If that’s what you really want to do…then I’ll support you. H-How long will you be gone for?” You questioned nervously. He sighed.

“In normal cases, a year and be back for the summer but… It’s college and I want to graduate as fast as my father did… So, I’ll be away during the summer as well.” A whole year?! He looked at the worry on your face. “Don’t worry! I’ll be able to visit for Christmas and such! You won’t just not see me for two years!” TWO YEARS?!

“That long? But…” No! Y/N, as much as you love him you need to let him do this! I can’t just shelter him, no matter how much I want to take him far away from this place. “Okay, just promise me that you’ll take care of yourself and that you’ll write to us whenever you get the chance…And the most important thing, promise me you’ll still be Philip when you come back…Promise?” You looked up at him with pleading eyes. He was only a few inches taller than you. He nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

“Of course, I’ll always be your sunshine! The sun always comes back right?” Yeah, the sun will always come back…But it never meets the stars…

…

             After your talk with Philip, you realized your feelings would have to be pushed to the side. You knew that if you told him then he’d stay. He’d stay in New York City with you, love you with every fiber of his being. But, you couldn’t hold him back. He really wants this, he wants to better himself, even if you think that he’s already perfect. This isn’t about you, it’s about him. So, you didn’t tell him. There were times when you thought you should but you didn’t. You loved him too much, he needed to grow and for him to grow you had to wait. It’s a needed sacrifice. Spring went by in the blink of an eye, the hot, sticky air of summer soon passed as well, much to your dismay. August was ending and you knew what that meant. Philip will leave, and the sun will follow him. And it did. The day came for Philip’s departure, everyone was excited to see him succeed while you had to pretend to not feel regret. He hugged and kissed everyone until you were the only one left. You couldn’t tell why but you felt like he was holding something back when he looked at you. Like he wanted to say more than he did. He took your hand, kissed the knuckle but stayed like that longer than usual. When he finally lifted his hand he said.

“Goodnight, my starlight.” It took you a moment to realize what he was saying. He said the exact same thing that night, after you both had watched the stars together.

“Night, Sunshine” You quoted yourself. Everyone else went inside as he walked over to the carriage waiting for him. “Wait! Philly, one more thing!” You ran up to him as he stood in front of the open carriage door. You cupped your hand over his cheek and turned his face to the side, placing a soft kiss on the opposite cheek. He froze, eyes filled with awe. You pulled away and smiled with bittersweet words on your tongue. “Make me proud, Sunny.” You’ve never seen him smile as hard as he was at that moment, like his childhood dream just came true. He nodded happily.

“Wait for me. I’ll be back before you know it!” You took a step back and let him get into the carriage, you watched as it pulled out of the yard and down the street. You didn’t go back inside until it was out of your line of sight. You shut the door behind you, already feeling empty without him near you.

I did the right thing…right?

Will I ever be satisfied?

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamilton the musical #hamiltrash #hamilton an american musical #alexander hamilton #eliza schuyler #angelica schuyler #John Laurens #lafayette #mulligan #thomas jefferson #james madison #george washington #king george iii #Philip Hamilton #philip x reader #time travel au #hamilton au #aaron burr #feel the burrn

[continuousevolution]

Note to self: the truth about honesty & flaws of casual confession: set your foundation right

Open Prayer I thank you Lord that your patience and mercy is never ending. I can’t begin the fathom how you had enough of it to walk me the long way round -by your grace alone I am here today, alive in every sense of the word, and that is all the evidence I need that you love me. I treasure the moment that I transitioned from simply acknowledging you, to embracing you, recognising you and comprehending who really are. I often reflect on the moments where the holy spirit has flooded my soul with love, a gentle reminder of your affection for me God. I see your love on the cross. I am not perfect God, I have fallen many times and will fall many times again. I acknowledge I can’t attain perfection in this life, but you Lord are capable of all things, and therefore pray that you might bless me enough to use an imperfect person for your perfect works. Sometimes I wonder if it's best I don't know when you’re using me for your will, because then I cannot be at risk of accumulating an ego. I commit my life to you, I give you my mountain tops and my valleys Lord. Have all of me. I pray that with each day I become less of me and more of you. That as you consume me, you shine from me and that people begin to see the you in me before the me in me. That I distinguish your light from the rest of the commotion polluting this world and stay on the right path, and that if I stray, I find the courage to lay down my pride and run home to you. I pray that my words reflect and glorify you Lord, that they bring comfort and courage to people who are feeling as defeated. No one compares to you, you’re above all. I am so blessed and so grateful that I am yours and you are mine. You give my life purpose, dignity and ability. Without you, I have no hope. You’re my greatest love. Dedication If you are reading this and you have made mistakes in your past, this is for you. If you are reading this and you still think about those mistakes when other opportunities arise, finding yourself hearing this small voice echoing words such as ‘incapable’, ‘failure’ or ‘unworthy’ into the corners of your heart, this is for you. If you have made mistakes in your past and you feel like they’re suffocating you, this is for you. If you’ve made mistakes in your past and you feel like they’re all people see when they look at you – if they’re all you see when you look at you – if your mistakes have become chains, binding you and causing you to be unable to step into new seasons, new chapters, new life; if you feel a disconnect between who you are and who you were, this is for you. If you’re not who you used to be, this message is for you. The ground work In describing a 'good person’ there are many qualities I would have said were critical to the criteria, with 'honest' being one of the highest ranking. This note to self is centred around the danger of honesty and casual confession, and the importance of ensuring our emotions, actions and lives are motivated and directed by a heavenly foundation. I hope this post reassures vulnerable people that the only assurance, recognition, forgiveness and validation they need is from our Saviour. Up until about a few months ago, if I had of met you I would have fairly instantly have told you the ‘ins and outs’ of my testimony, including the nitty gritty details of every high and low that led me here. These weren't, and aren't, all things I'm necessarily proud of. Yet, I found myself shouting them from the roof tops and preaching them under the ideology that 'there are no mistakes, just choices', and that ‘we should be grateful for all the choices we have made, honourable and not so, because they are the reason that we are exactly where we are today’. I used to believe that we should be honest with ourselves, and others, about the paths we have walked in order to help set ourselves, and others, free of the of the chains of past mistakes – to deconstruct the perceived plague of a ‘sinner’. These ideologies don’t sound toxic, deceitful or hurtful. Infact, I would argue the discourse used offers a sense comfort, liberation and ambition. Please do not misunderstand me, I don’t believe these ideologies are necessarily fatal– but they can be, if the foundation from which you build your understanding of them is flawed. I used to understand these ideologies on a fairly superficial level, but because my relationship with Christ has matured and strengthened I have been changed radically, and therefore, the way in which I understand and reflect these ideologies has also changed radically. Losing me? Hold on. I’ve got a word on my heart I believe God has challenged me to share with you (and yes, I use the word challenged because I am ignorant enough that I came to this revelation the practical way – making it to this revelation was challenging). It is critical from here on in that you understand that we humanly operate is systematic – our reality is a cycle. Our internal condition (hearts and emotions, left to their own accord) will determine our thoughts, perspectives and beliefs - they will determine what we perceive to be 'true'; From our thoughts and beliefs come our actions; repeated action results in behaviour: repeated behaviour results in habit: habit results in lifestyle; Your lifestyle dictates your external exposure; the things which you are exposed to will impact your emotions and there we are back to the start again – one big cycle. To live a life of purpose, to fulfil our God given callings, we need to ensure that our emotions do not determine our thoughts, perspectives and beliefs -that is not a fertile foundation. A fertile, sound, reliable foundation is established from the word of God – when we depend on his truth, instead of the truth we have enabled external factors to fabricate, we break the cycle and step into a life which is unrestricted by the confines of this world; we step into the kingdom of Christ. There is nothing wrong with the ideologies I mentioned earlier –it is true, we all make poor choices and those choices ultimately do shape and lead us. God willing, they will take us out of the valleys we walk ourselves into and through to the other side. God can use any circumstance for his will. These ideologies are not necessarily wrong, but, what can be wrong is your foundational understandings of these ideologies, and the motivation for action that misunderstanding may cause. If your foundational understanding regarding these ideologies comes from a poor understanding of who you are in Christ, than its likely the actions which result from these ideologies won’t reflect the will of Christ and won’t enable to fulfil your calling. Personally, I heard a preacher speak once and he recited that one of he’s biggest fears is that when I meet my saviour in heaven he’ll point to one list which has all the things I did for him, only to point to another which is much longer and contains all the things I could have done if I had just laid down my life, listened and heard his word and did what he was calling me to do – I ponder about this often. What comes next is four realisations I had that enabled me to step away from the trap of casual confession and into the grace and life he has called me to; to lay down my crosses and take up his love; to critically examine and reflect on my habits, motivations and foundations – to align my heart, mind and will with that of Christ and trust him; to understand the power of speech, value of my soul, and source of identification. 1. The weight of knowledge The bible gives us the truth and the word - it tells us that our words are life and death. It tells us the route to forgiveness and righteousness. It reveals love, it reveals freedom, and it reveals him. It lays it all out for us so clearly. When I took math in high school, I was told all the equations and formulas. I knew of them - I did trust me, I read them and could recite them to you but for the love of God I just did not understand them and therefore they were useless to me. I think it's safe to say that most people in this world could tell you ‘what the bible is’ and give you some kind of broad blurb as to ‘what it's all about’. Does that however mean that every person who can tell you something about the word of God understands the freedom and love engraved in its pages, or has even read it? Does it mean they have comprehended the news of the gospel? Does it mean they have accepted Christ as their saviour, king, father, hope, eternity? Does it mean they have even thought about it? Unfortunately, no. Unfortunately, knowledge is nothing without comprehension. Knowledge has no weight. 2. The intimacy of Comprehension When we understand, when we truly comprehend the knowledge we have accumulated that is when it is given weight – that is when we unlock a whole new intimacy with our Saviour. When we comprehend and truly understand his word instead of just being aware of it we are able to live freely. He gives us a map, but if we do not learn how to interpret it and orientate ourselves we won’t be able to distinguish which way is which – we will remain lost. Before I understood who I was through faith, by grace, I spoke about my past openly. I shared my worst mistakes; by voicing my downfalls I was voicing my shame - I was subconsciously trying to convince myself that it didn't matter. If I can verbalise it I have obviously dealt with it, right? I was furthering my attempt to have 'dealt' with it by telling myself that speaking about it would help me to accept I'm not perfect and help others accept it's okay not to be perfect, too. Well, at least that is certainly what I was trying to convince myself of and comfort myself with. But whilst doing this I didn't realise the thing I was actually doing was wearing my heart on my sleeve, completely exposed and unprotected. I think today we have developed a habit of glorifying ungodly lifestyles, particularly how we can 'beat' them. We place so much emphasis on ‘breakthrough’ moments rather than recognising all the small, simplistic breakthroughs that also lead to freedom. This glorification of ‘conquering demons’ had such a strong subconscious influence on the way I thought, spoke and behaved. I subconsciously wanted to be strong, I wanted to be an 'overcomer', I wanted to be resilient; I wanted to believe that despite all of my shortcomings, all of my ungodliness, all of my brokenness I still had hope. I wanted to show and know that I was still worth something; that I had still made something of myself; that I still could make something of myself; that I wasn't defined by the mistakes I had made. In desiring to be these things, in desiring to be more, I thought I needed to remind myself and make people aware of where I was now and where I used to be. In hindsight, it's like I was constantly trying to prove myself, often to people I'd never met - but mostly to myself. It's like my mistakes were chains and I felt so embarrassed, so fake and insincere until I addressed them –I kept trying to justify them or at least where I was now. It’s like I had to give every person I crossed paths with a disclaimer, ‘I'm not perfect, I've made bad decisions but now I'm trying. I'm not pure or worthy and I have a tendency to screw up. I'd love to keep talking to you, but I thought you should know what type of person I am so you can make an informed decision regarding the people you chose to surround yourself with. I mean hey look, I have stuffed up but at least I'm honest right? That's got to count for something, doesn't it? Honest people are good people, true?”. In effect, I was wearing my inner most insecurities, shame, loss, pain and fears on my sleeve just to have a shot at redeeming myself – another failed action. The problem with this is that my motivation for being honest was coming from an obsession or focus on my deeds. I was trying to do; to justify; to fix; to heal; to redeem and earn everything on my own. But the reality is we can't do it on our own, and we don’t have to. I was lost in disappointment with my shortfalls, compelled by fear that they were indicative of my nature because I had not listened to his words. I was filled with stubbornness, pride and embarrassment – my poor foundation led me to insecurity, to a desert, to pain, to suffering, to loss, despair: I disobeyed you God, I did this. It was my responsibility, so I’ll deal with it. I’ll fix it. When I’ve fixed myself, when I’ve shown you how far I’ve come, then I’ll be worthy of you. Then I’ll feel whole. Then I’ll feel secure. I won’t be such a liar, I won’t be superficial or hypocritical, because my actions will finally reflect my heart and love for you. I spoke my past over my future and gave the enemy ammunition. I needed to turn to HIS WORDS AND COMPREHEND THE TRUTH; He has told us we are forgiven: Mark 2:5 ‘when Jesus saw their faith, he said “son, your sins are forgiven’ He told us we are redeemed: Ephesians 1:7, ‘in him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace’ Isaiah 52:3, ‘for this is what the Lord says, “you were sold for nothing and without money you will be redeemed”’ Deuteronomy 15:15, ‘Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you.’ Isaiah 42:22 ‘I have swept away your offences like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you’ He told us of grace – he told us it's free. He told us that we had this grace from the beginning of time and that it became accessible through Jesus. That we can't earn his love or alter our worth in his eyes – he called us because of his own purpose and will, not anything we have done. : Romans 3:24, ‘and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came through Christ Jesus’ Romans 11:6, ‘and if by grace, then it cannot be based on works; if it were, grace would no longer be grace’ 2 Timothy 1:9, ‘he has saved us and called us to a holy life – not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but has now been revealed through the appearing of our saviour, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel’ He told us the only way to God is through our saviour Jesus Christ, and we must believe, truly recognise and embrace the weight of his sacrifice: John 1:7, ‘for the law came through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ’. He told us that from the moment we were created our God had plans for us – not that he makes plans according to our deeds – our God is all knowing – his plans are beyond our comprehension, he's ways are wonderful. You are part of a generation which was brought whilst they were dead, you are called according to his will and your future has been secured through your faith. Ephesians 2, ‘as for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of the world and of the ruler of the kingdom of air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy made us alive in Christ even when we were dead in transgressions – it is by grace you have been saved. And god raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches if his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and thus is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works , which God prepared in advance for us to do’ For me, I had heard people preach using Proverbs 18 ‘The tongue has the power of life and death’, so many times over the past year - it's actually kind of humorous in hindsight how thick I actually am. Man, what a patient, merciful, kind god we have. In hindsight, I can see he continuously reached out to me with this verse saying, ‘how many times do I have to tell you, my grace is sufficient. You take me completely or not at all. And if you are going to take me, then you best realise your purpose is now to be a bearer of my love, a harvester of my fruit. I have anointed you and called you. Your words hold the weight and ability to birth life or death – walk where I have called you and preach the love I have covered you in. When you were broken, I held you together and I will continue to do so. I have been found by you, and with you I will stay until you come to see me face to face, and even then I will be with you. When you opened your heart to me, you accepted my grace - every time you need reassurance all you need do is open your heart to me more. My grace is sufficient, you will never thirst again, you are free now my child.’ And that is the honest truth. Don’t you see? Who you are, when you have come to Christ, ceases to have anything to do with what you have done. Your identity is in him. You become a new person, by his ability, not your own. Stop trying to carry your cross. He already carried it for you. Stop trying to punish yourself; he took your punishment when he laid his life down for you. You want to show God how much you love him? Really? Then honour the sacrifice he made for you. He did it, willingly. Accept and embrace that. To try and carry your own cross after he already did it for you, is to discredit and disrespect what he did for you. Now I know, sometimes we do this without realising, but you can bet your bottom dollar every time we realise that is what we’re doing we should lay our pride at his feet and thank him for his love and mercy. 3. The flaws of casual confession The word confession is often associated with guilt and the admission of wrongs – personally, I associate this word with a formal act, typically involving a person of authority or a person who has been wronged. So then, what is casual confession? Casual confession is when you seek comfort in the reassurance of others about the things in your life, your past and your heart that you're not proud of or not yet comfortable with – maybe it's friends, maybe it's leaders, maybe it's family, maybe it's strangers, maybe it's even every person you meet. I've seen casual confession manifest itself in many forms; I've seen it emerge in self-depreciating jokes, in colloquial language,‘d&m’s’ and the list goes on. Casual confession stems from a lack of understanding and a whole lot of knowledge. For me, casual confession had even corrupted the motivation of sharing my testimony - it impacted the tone of language in which I communicated it, therefore, in fact I really wasn't providing a testament of his grace, because I was still bearing my own cross. I grew up in a Catholic Church and I am so grateful for that, but I grew up under the impression that to be 'right' with God I had to confess and that I could only do this through a priest - it wasn't enough to just pray to God I had to physically 'get it off my chest' to a third party. I guess it's out of that habit that my rocky foundation for the ideology I spoke about previously was formed -I thought that I could free myself and help others be free by verbalising things. I'm not saying that we should never talk about our struggles. I'm not in any way saying that talking things through within sound relationships is not right - I'm not saying it's pointless or unhelpful. What I'm saying is that talking things through becomes a problem when it is the only way we are seeking comfort, reassurance and freedom - the comfort and freedom we seek can't be found in the world; it doesn't matter how many people you chat about it with. It doesn't matter how comfortable you become at verbalising it - if this is the only place you are turning to then you will only find temporary freedom. You might feel the weight lift but in my experience, the ‘freedom’ you'll feel following casual confession is the equivalent of the breath you breathe after being dumped by a wave at the beach, right before you are dumped by the next one- its short, it's disorientating, it's unfulfilling and it's barely enough to carry you through to the next one. If this is a habit you have developed you will be well aware it is a habit you are required to continue fuelling. It is a habit demanded by your emotions and thoughts regarding a circumstance and a reliance on your perceived truth rather than THE TRUTH. If left uncorrected, perceived truths and will continue to leave you feeling flawed, insecure, unworthy, damaged, and incomplete. This may be what culture and society will tell you but it is not what God has and will tell you every day, Amen. If you haven't reconciled with God and received verification that you are made new, that you are good, that you are worthy, you are forgiven, that you are able to start again from him DIRECTLY, if you haven't accepted his grace, then you will be trapped in reliance on casual confession for the rest of your days - why settle for temporary release when you have direct access freedom? Casual confession will cause you despair after the emptiness you are tirelessly trying to fill continues to grow. Casual confession will cause you pain as untrustworthy and negative people come into contact with what should be classified information and exploit it. Casual confession will confine us to where we are as we speak our pasts over our futures and fuel the enemy's war against us - the devil can't read our minds but surely as we confess carelessly, insecurely, shamefully and casually he listens, gaining ammunition and plotting his attempts at destruction and devastation in our lives. 4. The truth about honesty I want to make this clear – I do not have a problem with honesty. I love honesty, I desire honesty, I aspire to complete, utter, surrendered, transparent honesty to my God. In that, I am not saying it’s okay to be honest with God and lie to everyone else, no. What I am saying is that your motivation for being honest needs to stem from a healthy foundation with Jesus, and once that motivation is aligned with God; healthy honesty with those around you will result. Proverbs 18 continues, ‘from the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit’. In other words, the produce of our speech with fill our hearts and minds; what we verbalise has power over our circumstance. As we choose our thoughts, perspectives, attitudes and words we choose our destination – we chose life or we chose death. Can't you see the ball is in our court? If you need it clearer look to Proverbs 21:23 which says, ‘those who guard their mouths and their tongues keep themselves from calamity’. Calamity means simply, ‘an event causing great and often sudden damage or distress; a disaster’. Wow. Those who mind what comes from their lips protect themselves from sudden disaster. Matthew 15:11 says, ‘what goes into someone's mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them’. I think why I love this scripture so much is that it reinforces gods promises and vision of us – it says it's not about what you have done or who you have been – go changed. It's not about what went in; it’s about what came out. It's not about whom you were when you started; it's about who you are now. God is a redeemer, allow him in follow and allow him to walk in your life. We have the ability to speak life or death – Proverbs 18 tells us so – if we are honest from a place of insecurity and shame, the tone of our speech will be toxic, breathe death and provide a foothold for the enemy, potentially restricting us from growth. HOWEVER, if we are honest from a place of security, grace and faith then we ensure our honesty is one which is fruitful, harvests life, and enables us and others to establish and build our foundations in Christ and to live freely in the grace he has provided us. If your motivation for honesty comes from a place of guilt, shame or a desire to justify your actions then please, I urge you to refresh yourself with his truth. And I urge you to acknowledge the power of your tongue. Examine the motivation of your words as well as the way in which you enable your emotions to be verbalised – don’t continue to speak your past over your future. I pray that you realise that you have to protect your integrity. You need to be wise with your heart - there is a distinct difference between honesty and exploitation. You can be honest all the time without exploiting your integrity, heart and soul. Your foundation determines the role of your feelings – a healthy foundation will ensure that you are not allowing your feelings to manifest into toxic speech. A healthy foundation will ensure that you do not continue to speak your past over your future. It will ensure that you walk into your calling, entitled – because through grace he has made you so. You are under no obligation to share anything with anyone, because quite frankly you can't trust everyone. To be a good honest person doesn't mean you have to overexert yourself, bare your soul to strangers or make a display of every part of yourself. Some things are just meant to be private. I don't mean private as in hidden; you don't have to be ashamed, insecure, embarrassed or hide parts of yourself. What I am referring to when I use the word private is personal - they have a higher value then the things you share with every Jack, Jill and Joe you meet in the street. We are intimate beings, our souls are soft and they are precious - they need protecting; they need guarding. We live in harsh times; people don't always do right because we are all just that – people. We're all stumbling through and all making mistakes. The things that make us, us - they're special. They're classified. They're valuable. Why? Because you are. Be wise. Protect yourself. You don't need a wall, but you do need some wisdom – guard your heart. Sometimes that will be from other people, but just as often, it will be from yourself. How? Turn to your saviour, listen, trust, confide, follow. The New Living Translation titles Proverbs 4 as ‘A father’s wise advice’; it provides wholesome, nurturing, loving, gentle advice to us. Particularly, I want to draw attention to verse 20-27: ‘My child, pay attention to what I say. Listen carefully to my words. Don't lose sight of them. Let them penetrate deep into your heart, for they bring life to those who find them, and healing to their whole body. Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life. Avoid all perverse talk, stay away from corrupt speech. Look straight ahead, and fix your eyes on what lies before you. Mark a straight path for your feet; stay on the safe path. Don't get side-tracked, keep your feet from following evil.’ Cling to his words. Study them. Memorise them. Breathe them in and share them. Break the cycle of casual confession; don't speak the death of the past over the purity and life of your future. His word is truth and it never changes, it is written and referenced specifically for you, you need reassurance? You need encouragement? You need love? You need redemption? You need a new beginning? In a moment, every moment, it is yours for the taking; walk intimately with God and experience the freedom of his love. Never forget, your true validation; your identity does not belong to and is not, was not will never be created or altered by this world, anything you experience or undertake in it. You were born of the dirt but you have life by the Holy Spirit. Closing Prayer God we thank you for being who you are. We thank you for being so patient, merciful, kind and generous with us Lord. Thank-you for giving us a map to navigate this life and world with. I hope that bit by bit we uncover the wisdom the comprehend it. I pray that our foundation is formed from the promises you have proclaimed and that our actions and speech result directly from and reflect them. We stand in awe of your beauty and wonder. In this moment I open my heart to you and reaffirm my acceptance of you as my saviour and king, I choose to walk with you every day for the rest of my life. And should by any chance I get lost along then I pray that I have the courage to come running home into your open arms. You are my origin, my beginning, my middle, my end - my destination and every step between. I pray my life is a book that glorifies your name. I love you lord.

#Written

[discoabc]

Ch 4 Deleted Scene: Chinese Whispers

A/N: I was looking through all the versions of chapters I rewrote and found this one from ages ago! I deleted it for multiple reasons but I thought the game Sakura described was quite a fun idea : )

There were perks to being Ami’s self-proclaimed friend that began to make up for the irritating fact that I had to interact with her, a child and, worse, a child bully. She was the kind of girl I would’ve have avoided like the plague when I was mentally her age, too humiliated by her stupid, immature insults to ever stand up for myself. I imagined the original Sakura would’ve gagged at the sight of me sitting with her to eat lunch.

But it meant I didn’t have to ever worry about accidentally having any of the rookie nine attach themselves to me. Ami was fairly disliked by a lot of my classmates, especially the smarter ones who could see how awful she could be. Apparently, her random insulting of me hadn’t been by chance, she’d in fact been going around to those who hadn’t found a group of friends yet or people she considered below her and just reeled off the remarks meant to hurt.

Luckily, she’d yet to have fired off her mouth at Hinata when she had decided we were friends and I’d managed to discourage her from saying anything to the Hyuga heiress. Hinata was as sweet as she was shy, and I felt often a painful kind of second-hand anxiety for the girl. Bullying at school was the last thing she wanted considering her life at home wasn’t free from carefully aimed insults.

Aside from being able to avoid those I wanted to avoid and carefully point the gun of Aimi’s sneers away from those who didn’t deserve it in the slightest, the girl came in useful as we were made often by Iruka to work in groups. I hadn’t exactly dreaded not being able to find a group accepting of me joining them, but it made things simpler when Ami included me without thinking, glaring at anyone who suggested I wasn’t welcome in her clique.

It took a little while for me to stop her trying to get me to sit beside her in lesson rather than the bench behind the girl though. I wanted to concentrate during class, or at least give off the impression that I was so Iruka didn’t pencil me down as a problem child. Usually I didn’t have to feign interest, although often not because of the actual topic being discussed but the implications of it.

We had the ninja rules shoved down our throat fairly early on and were reminded of them daily. Sometimes we had tests on them just to see if we remembered what they were, and those were the tests I realized fairly quickly weren’t ones for me to pretend I didn’t know them as well as I did. The average for them was one hundred percent starting front the third week. Even Naruto could recite most of them by then (if with slightly different wording that is).

The speed at which we were indoctrinated into the system was almost terrifying. Our pride in our village was also inflated quickly through very biased tales of our previous Hokages and other well-known ninjas alongside much repetition of the importance of the Will of Fire. The love for Konoha was drilled into us so much that eventually it became easy to think you’d always thought so highly of your home and were more than prepared to protect it with a patriotic zeal!

As someone who refused any attempt at this child-friendly brainwashing, it was morbidly fascinating to watch as my classmates, who previously hadn’t cared that much about Konoha as a whole, began to mention their love for our village more frequently and have it stay at the forefront of their minds.

Aside from the ninja code being engraved into our brains and artificial emotions being grown in us, we learnt the barest basics of maths and even then only things that would be useful to us as ninja. Instead of studying books for literature and language classes, we were taught about simple codes and the Konoha sign language alongside other general signs that even civilians might know due to their literal nature. Games my classmates assumed were for fun breaks between lessons were in fact exercises meant to improve our teamwork and intelligence gathering skills.

A favourite game of mine was a strange version of Chinese Whispers. The main goal was to get the message from the informant to Iruka, who took the role of the Hokage. A handful of people however were chosen to be the spies and enemy ninja whose aim was to change the message so no useful information would be passed on. The informant couldn’t directly pass on the message to the Hokage and could only say it three times to three different people. Likewise, everyone playing the game was restricted to whispering the information into someone’s ear at most three times, although it could be to the same person. The last person who was able to speak after the information had been tossed around the entire class was the one who told the Hokage the message. The final twist was that, if rightly accused, the enemy ninja was removed from the game and no longer allowed to play. But accuse wrongly and you and the innocent accused were removed.

As soon as the rules were ingrained in our minds, the game became increasingly complex. People would start trying to catch out the enemies by lying themselves, silent alliances were built between people, and spies would start accusing innocent classmates to throw off the suspicion placed on their allies that they were visibly communicating with. Sign language was technically cheating but we all started making our own specific signs. Iruka would catch on after a while and we’d be forced to stop only to start up new signals.

I loved it with surprising fierceness. Perhaps it was because it was one of the few times I didn’t have to act completely average. It was such a complex game that any genius move I implemented could easily be discounted as luck or even not ever be noticed. I had fun playing it.

Fun, as long as Naruto wasn’t ruining the game. Since a lot of our classmates were now obviously ignoring him, he’d taken up his infuriating class clown role. That meant sometimes whispering purposefully loud so everyone could hear. Other times he would change the message into an insult about Iruka and get us all into trouble when the message was spoken at the end. At first even I found it a little funny. Now it was just a hindrance to the one thing I really enjoyed.

For god’s sake Naruto, I am trying to tell Iruka that we must move now to save a small village we trade with before our enemies burn it down and kill all men, women and children, would you just piss off?!

Our PE classes weren’t as rigorous as I’d thought they’d be. Since we were still in young, fragile bodies, sparring wasn’t allowed until next year (which would be such a different time, I thought whilst internally rolling my eyes). Sharp weaponry couldn’t be touched for a whole eighteen months too, and we certainly wouldn’t be learning how to use any explosive tags or smoke bombs until we were nine or so. So instead we did the extreme basics. Our hand-eye coordination was improved by throwing games, at first using balls and later more strangely shaped objects. We ran increasingly longer distances to improve our stamina. Climbing walls and scaling trees without our chakra was a must.

It became a more intense lesson when everyone started enhancing their limbs with more chakra unconsciously to keep up with our training. My awareness of my chakra became a hindrance as I had to concentrate it to specific parts of my body, not too much so I was moving way faster than my peers but not too little so I lagged behind. PE became a class of physical and mental exhaustion.

#deleted scenes #TKAB #this is from so long ago now omg #not as interesting as the other deleted scenes I don't think but I do like the chinese whispers idea

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Fair Won Prize:  chapter 3

“Excuse me, what did you say again?” Durbe didn’t look as if he could yet convince himself that he’d actually woken up and heard what he did.

Vector loved playing with people like this. He wrapped his arm around Mizael’s shoulders and leaned closer to him, ignoring the way Mizael rolled his eyes.

“I said, Mizael finally agreed to my courting and we’ve agreed on a relationship.”

Rio stared over at the pile of empty cups they’d drunk from the night before, then looked back at Durbe and Gilag. “I suggest we test whatever’s left to find out what else was in those drinks aside from that sleeping potion.”

Ryouga looked quite as if he wanted to agree with his twin. Instead, he gave Mizael a very firm look.

“Is he telling the truth?”

Mizael pushed Vector away – successfully, after trying two or three times – and stepped forward. “He’s leaving things out. Such as this isn’t romantic at all and is far more in the way of conveying my thanks for his actions last night. It’s also in no way permanent. Either one of us can cancel it at any point.”

Vector held back a smirk. He would let Mizael think that for now. Now he put a pout on his lips.

“I was rather heroic last night. I’m sure you can put it into a song, dear Ryouga.” The pout turned into a smile that was a hair’s breadth from a smirk. He waved one hand ever so dramatically. “There you all were, sound asleep and completely vulnerable to anything and everything those beasts wanted to do to you.”

He recited everything he’d heard on their plans, saving Mizael for last, letting his words linger over those schemes. He did not miss the sudden fury boiling in Alit’s eyes at what would’ve been his own fate, nor how it was flavored with sorrow. Something to keep in mind for the future, he thought, before returning to his recitations.

“Then that one idiot dared to lay a hand on Mizael here,” he said, gesturing so his fingers brushed by the ranger’s hair, but didn’t touch it. His every action he chose to make it clear how different he was from those fools who’d never heard of asking for anything.

Not that Vector himself especially liked asking or that the would-be slavers would’ve ever gotten a ‘yes’ in the first place.

“I decided at that point, it wasn’t worth being amused by their idiocy anymore.” With a flick of his fingers his knife was in his hand once more. He admired the edge of it, which would need a bit of sharpening before he used it again. “And I cut his hand off.” No one touches what’s mine. Even if Mizael didn’t know he was mine then.

“And you got blood in my hair,” Mizael pointed out. Vector tsked at that.

“I helped you get it out, didn’t I?”

“You killed all of them.” Durbe observed. “So where are the bodies?”

“We dragged them out there,” Mizael said, gesturing with one graceful hand. “And I asked Jinlong to set them on fire.”

“It was very beautiful to see,” Vector added. He toyed with the tip of his blade. “Though some of the locals tried to wander by. They didn’t stay long.”

Ryouga groaned, leaning back in his seat. “Tell me you didn’t kill them too. They haven’t done anything that we know of...have they?”

Mizael shook his head. “They didn’t stay long. They took one look at us sitting there and left.” He turned a look toward Vector. “I don’t think Vector playing with his knife and my hair at the same time inclined them to want to stay and talk.”

“I didn’t want them to stay and talk!” Vector defended himself, widening in his eyes in the best indication of innocence he could manage. “You’re right, though. They didn’t do anything to us, so they might not have been in on what was going on.”

He didn’t know if that were true or not. But he had ways to find out before much longer.

“So with all of that, you decided that Vector could be an acceptable… companion?” Durbe reached the point he clearly wanted to be at the most.

“I’ve known those who would be worse,” Mizael acknowleged, and Vector let himself smile broadly and openly this time, stealing another caress to the side of Mizael’s neck now. With their bargain made – if not fully consumated yet – then he let himself take a few more liberties with Mizael. Small ones, but only ones that he knew Mizael would agree to.

Durbe sighed, leaning his head back on the wall in mimicry of Ryouga, who just shook his own head.

“You don’t need our permission for this,” Ryouga said, “but I’m glad that you let us know.”

Ponta peered up from Gilag’s lap and giggled, an eerily human sound. “Because if you hadn’t, one of you would probably take his head off!”

Vector shot the tanuki a very annoyed look. As always, though, Ponta didn’t even seem bothered by it. Instead, he licked a paw and curled himself back up, while still watching everything with far too wise eyes.

Vector didn’t like Ponta. He’d always thought the magical creature knew far more than it possibly should have and that was something he preferred to no one else but he did.

But there wasn’t any real way to say that right now, so he turned back to the group as a whole. “Now that you know, I think we should head on to the next city. Some place with a good inn we can spend a night or two in.” Or three or four. “Just to make certain all of that drug’s cleared out of you all.”

He didn’t think he fooled any of them on that score. He’d not hidden his desire for Mizael for a moment since conceiving it. He wasn’t surprised when Alit buried his face in one hand and shook his head.

“I didn’t need to hear that. I didn’t want to hear that. I don’t want to know anything at all about it.” He lifted up his head and turned to Rio. “Can you make sure no one hears anything they do?” He turned toward Durbe and Gilag. “Or one of you? Please? Some kind of… I dunno, a silence spell?”

Vector snickered. “Do you really think we’re going to be that loud?” He would make a special point of it, just to annoy them all, spell or no spell. Not only would it annoy them if it didn’t work, but if it did, he’d know how loud he could get Mizael to be. Sometimes the best victories were personal ones.

“I don’t want to know if you are,” Alit pointed out. Gilag, Rio, and Durbe were already muttering to one another, even as Ryouga got up and started for the door.

“I’ll check on the horses. Be ready to go soon,” he said. All of them nodded; they did have a job to do farther along, and as much as Vector looked forward to his personal triumph, he wanted to get that taken care of as well.

Mizael knew quite well that he hadn’t made anything like a perfect choice, but one thing remained clear: if Vector hadn’t been there and been awake, then right now he’d likely be in that slaver’s bed. He knew and trusted his own skills, but he’d been at least mostly asleep, unable to properly defend himself. He had no idea of if the other would’ve been able to restrain him in a way he couldn’t get out of or not.

At least, he reminded himself, Vector remained honest about what he wanted. He restrained himself from touching Mizael in any way except which Mizael allowed, even if he did do that much more frequently now that they’d made their bargain.

He wasn’t at all the best, but he wasn’t the worst, and Mizael owed him now. Honor meant a great deal to Mizael, as it did to the dragons who’d raised him, and he would repay the debt in the only fashion he knew Vector would accept.

In the long run it wouldn’t make much of a difference in his life. Vector was human; Mizael wasn’t. A thousand years from now, Mizael would still roam the lands, free as only a dragon-trained elven ranger could be, and Vector would be little more than a passing memory. Perhaps one softly thought upon from time to time, depending on how their trysts went.

That was part of what he’d spoken of with Jinlong when he’d called him the first time the night before. Jinlong reassured him that dragons had done the same thing in the past. That was how some human and dragon hybrids now existed, or dragon and elven: sometimes even elven and human. A deed worthy of such a bargain wasn’t common, but Vector’s actions came under that heading.

Vector’s fingers touched the side of Mizael’s arm and he turned toward him.

“Ryouga says we’re ready to go.” Vector gave him a thoughtful look before he leaned over and touched his lips to Mizael’s. Vector was, amazingly, a good kisser, one with plenty of practice.

Mizael returned it, not surprised to find Vector sliding his arms around him and holding him close. Vector was warm and strong, and Mizael thought it wouldn’t be hard to get used to him.

The next proper inn, the kind of place that not only had good beds, a place where they could all get good meals and good drinks that weren’t going to put them into any unwanted sleep – none of them really wanted to touch any sort of ale again for quite some time, regardless of how clean they knew it was – and where they could repack their supplies wasn’t for another three days of travel.

Vector restrained himself. They stopped at inns along the way, but none of them had what everyone else wanted: privacy. Putting up a group of seven, plus horses, wasn’t something most village inns could handle, and certainly not in individual rooms.

Even with Mizael having accepted the courting and their arrangements more or less worked out – they dealt with small details as they came along, most of which included Vector not actually touching him that much – Vector could hardly wait for the actual consummation of the bargain. The fact it would include intimate relations – sex – had been implied and agreed upon from the very beginning.

I saved his ass, so now I get to have it. Vector held back a snicker. He really wanted to say that out loud, but the various annoyed looks that got shot his way whenever he opened his mouth lately kept him leashed.

To a degree. He had so many plans set up for when he and Mizael finally took that step. No one would be able to ignore him then.

“Looks like we’ll be staying in Deepflower tonight,” Ryouga said, checking the map he kept. “Tomorrow we can finally cross the border and we’ll be on the high road to the Echoing Woods.”

“What is it we’re supposed to do there again?” Alit wondered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t keep this stuff straight.”

Vector wondered if Alit even knew how to read. From what he knew of the ex-gladiator’s history, it wasn’t likely. Good enough excuse to not know where they were going.

“The Echoing Woods are inhabited mostly by dryads,” Gilag said, turning his gaze in that direction. Ponta lifted his head up as well, watching the way the wind blew.

Or something.

Gilag kept going. “There are also stone spirits and a dwarven city in the area. Someone is robbing the city and all the signs are that magic is involved.”

“So we’re going to find out how and fix it up,” Alit said, nodding and stretching his arms out to work out the kinks. “Sounds good to me.”

“It’ll take us another few days to get there once we’ve crossed the border, so Deepflower is where we’ll restock it all,” Ryouga said, rolling up the map and tucking it away again. He cast a glance toward Vector, who rode beside Mizael, as always these days. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Vector inched closer to Mizael, a quick slash of a smirk across his lips followed by an anticipatory look at the ranger.

Ryouga held back whatever he had in mind to say and started down the road one more time, the rest of the Order of the Outcasts following behind.

Score one for me, Vector praised himself, stealing another look at Mizael as they rode. And tonight I’ll score even more.

The Golden Griffon was, without a doubt, the best inn in Deepflower. It had a lot of competition; Deepflower was one of the hub cities of the kingdom, where all manner of traders, travelers, and merchandise of every sort made its way from here to the various points of the kingdom and to many other kingdoms as well. Situated beside a swift-flowing, wide river that led to the ocean, from there one could go almost anywhere, and have supplies bought to make the trip that much easier.

With that much traffic, it wasn’t surprising at all that the team had a wide selection of inns to choose from. Vector made that choice this time, though.

“I’ve been here before,” he said, riding directly for the Golden Griffon and the familiar welcoming staff. “They know how to treat everyone like royalty.”

He could use a little pampering before they got back on the road for the serious business of saving people who couldn’t save themselves. He rather thought they all could, no matter who would admit it.

The owner of the Griffon knew exactly who he was, of course, and knew better than to speak of it to anyone else. He simply bowed low the moment he came out and saw who his new guests were.

“A pleasure to see you again, your worship,” the owner murmured, head bent respectfully. “Do you have any special requests today?”

Vector wrapped an arm around Mizael and pulled him close. “I’ll take the Grand Suite for the two of us, and have it well stocked.” He waved his other hand toward the rest of the group. “We’ve been shoved together enough on this trip. Individual rooms for everyone else.”

The owner glanced up, eyes going from one to the other of them, and Vector wasn’t at all surprised to see a gleam of greed there. He would be well rewarded for his services here and he knew it.

“As you wish. Would you like to eat in your rooms or in the main dining area?”

“Main dining area?” Durbe murmured, probably to Ryouga. “Most inns I know just call it the common room and be done with it.”

“Upscale place,” was all Ryouga said in return. Without looking, Vector had a feeling that the bard had his lute in his hands, idly checking the tuning. He had a habit of doing that whenever they were in a new situation. It helped make people ignore him as less of a threat, which meant he could watch what was going on and be ready to step in when necessary.

Vector hadn’t fallen for it, not once. But he had always had insider information anyway.

He focused his attention right now on the innkeeper, and enjoying the mildly startled look on Mizael’s face.

“We’ll eat in the suite. It’s much quieter.” He glaned at Mizael. “You don’t mind, do you?” He really hoped Mizael didn’t. He had one more order to give in regards to dinner.

Mizael shrugged. “I don’t care, as long as we eat.”

Perfect. Vector returned his attention to the owner. “I’m in the mood for the fourth special tonight. It’s still the one from last time, isn’t it?”

“Of course, sir!” The owner bowed again. “Also, the bathing facilities are empty at the moment, if you’d care to make use of them.”

Vector let out a very satisfied sigh at that. “I think we will.”

There were two sections to the bathing facilities. One for the usual sort of guests and the one that Vector led Mizael to. Both of the sections had the exact same features and were built to the highest of quality. But the one Vector wanted had something that the other one didn’t: absolute privacy. No one was going to get in there without passing by the guard on duty and having been granted permission by whoever used the facilities at that moment.

Vector made it clear that he didn’t want anyone else in there unless armageddon happened, and maybe not even then. He could think of few better ways to spend an apocalypse than with Mizael in his arms.

Not that there was one planned to happen any time soon that he knew of, anyway.

Mizael glanced around, a slight frown tilting his lips. Vector understood the ranger far better than some might’ve expected, and stepped up to enfold him in his arms again.

“It’s a little different from what you’re used to, isn’t it?” he murmured. The bathing room here was as wide as the tavern they’d stopped at with the would-be slavers, tiled in cool blue and pale green, with one large pool sunk into the floor. Warmed towels hung over a silver-wrought rack and lovely scents arose from the pool itself.

Another rack awaited their clean clothes, while a basket of finely woven reeds covered in silk awaited their laundry. Part of the service included all of their dirty clothes washed, dried, and mended, then returned to them.

Mizael didn’t move away from him, something Vector found pleasing. “Yes,” was all he said in response, though, and Vector nuzzled against him.

“We’ll only stay as long as we need to in order to rest up and get the supplies,” Vector promised. Overwhelming Mizael with sensual pleasures – of all kinds – wouldn’t work very well. He simply enjoyed the wilds too much.

But a small immersion in this luxury would please Vector himself quite a bit, and it was long past time that he and Mizael consummated their bargain, in every kind of way.

He started to fiddle with his clothes. He knew exacty what kind of supplies the innkeeper would provide, and where they would all be. This wasn’t even close to his first time bringing a new lover here for their first tryst.

And he so looked forward to introducing Mizael to every bit of sensual pleasure imaginable.

To Be Continued

Notes: Next chapter is the last one, and that's when they do it. It isn't graphic at all, so use your own judgment.

#higuchimon writes #fanfic #ygo zexal #vector #mizael #mizael x vector #vector x mizael #miseryshipping #chapters: fair won prize #series: order of the outcasts