#I think a few members of the cluster are getting larger

[paperthin-carapace]

I'm sending you some venison and parsnip soup, listen out for a skittering at your door, that'll be Pachinko (one of my rats)

-Scarlet

The soup was quite good. Sadly, I lost strength while eating it and spilled about half of it :(. I am very sorry.

[soundsfaebutokay]

So I've recc'd this video before, but it deserves its own post because it's one of my favorite things on youtube. It's a Tedx Talk by comics writer, editor, and journalist Jay Edidin, and I really think that it will connect with a lot of people here.

If you live and breathe stories of all kinds, you might like this.

If you care about media representation, you might like this.

If you're neurodivergent, you might like this.

If you're interested in a gender transition story that veers from the norm, you might like this.

If you love the original Leverage and especially Parker, and understand how important it is that a character like her exists, you will definitely like this.

Transcript below the cut:

You Are Here: The Cartography of Stories

by Jay Edidin

I am autistic. And what this means in practice is that there are some things that are easier for me than they are for most people, and a great many things that are somewhat harder, and these affect my life in more or less overt ways. As it goes, I'm pretty lucky. I've been able to build a career around special interests and granular obsession. My main gig at the moment is explaining superhero comics continuity and publishing history for which work I am somehow paid in actual legal currency—which is both a triumph of the frivolous in an era of the frantically pragmatic, and a job that's really singularly suited to my strengths and also to my idiosyncrasies.

I like comics. I like stories in general, because they make sense to me in ways that the rest of the world and my own mind often don't. Self-knowledge is not an intuitive thing for me. What sense of self I have, I've built gradually and laboriously and mostly through long-term pattern recognition. For decades, I didn't even really have a self-image. If you'd asked me to draw myself, I would eventually have given you a pair of glasses and maybe a very messy scribble of hair, and that would've been about it. But what I do know—backwards, forwards, and in pretty much every way that matters—are stories. I know how they work. I understand their language, their complex inner clockwork, and I can use those things to extrapolate a sort of external compass that picks up where my internal one falls short. Stories—their forms, their structure, the sense of order inherent to them—give me the means to navigate what otherwise, at least for me, would be an impassable storm of unparsable data. Or stories are a periscope, angled to access the parts of myself I can't intuitively see. Or stories are a series of mirrors by which I can assemble a composite sketch of an identity I rarely recognize whole...which is how I worked out that I was transgender, in my early thirties, by way of a television show.

This is my story. And it's about narrative cartography, and representation, and why those things matter. It's about autism and it's about gender and it's about how they intersect. And it's about the kinds of people we know how to see, and the kinds of people we don't. It's not the kind of story that gets told a lot, you might hear a lot, because the narrative around gender transition and dysphoria in our culture is really, really prescriptive. It's basically the story of the kid who has known for their whole life that they're this and not that, and that story demands the kind of intuitive self-knowledge that I can't really do, and a kind of relationship to gender that I don't really have—which is part of why it took me so long to figure my own stuff out.

So, to what extent this story, my story has a beginning, it begins early in 2014 when I published an essay titled, "I See Your Value Now: Asperger's and the Art of Allegory." And it explored, among other things, the ways that I use narrative and narrative structures to navigate real life. And it got picked up in a number of fairly prominent places that got linked, and I casually followed the ensuing discussion. And I was surprised to discover that readers were fairly consistently assuming I was a man. Now, that in itself wasn't a new experience for me, even though at the time I was writing under a very unambiguously female byline. It had happened in the letter columns of comics I'd edited. It had happened when a parody Twitter account I'd created went viral. When I was on staff at Wired, I budgeted for fancy scotch by putting a dollar in a box every time a reader responded in a way that made it clear they were assuming I was a man in response to an article where my name was clearly visible, and then I had to stop doing that because it happened so often I couldn't afford to keep it up. But in all of those cases, the context, you know, the reasons were pretty obvious. The fields I'd worked in, the beats I covered, they were places where women had had to fight disproportionally hard for visibility and recognition. We live in a culture that assumes a male default, so given a neutral voice and a character limit, most readers will assume a male author.

But this was different, because this wasn't just a book I'd edited, it wasn't a story I'd reported—it was me, it was my story. And it made me uncomfortable, got under my skin in ways that the other stuff really hadn't. And so I did what I do when that happens, and I tried to sort of reverse-engineer it to look at the conclusions and peel them back to see the narratives behind them and the stories that made them tick. And I started this, I started this by going back to the text of the essay, and you know, examining it every way I could think of: looking at craft, looking at content. And in doing so, I was surprised to realize that while I had written about a number of characters with whom I identified closely, that every single one of those characters I'd written about was male. And that surprised me even more than the responses to the essay had, because I've spent my career writing and talking and thinking about gender and representation in popular media. In 2014, I'd been the feminist gadfly of an editorial department and multiple mastheads. I'd been a founding board member of an organization that existed to advocate for more and better representation of women and girls in comics characters and creators. And most of my favorite characters, the ones I'd actively seek out and follow, were women. Just not, apparently, the characters I saw myself in.

Now I still didn't realize it was me at this point. Remember: self-knowledge, not very intuitive for me. And while I had spent a lot of time thinking about gender, I'd never really bothered to think much about my own. I knew academically that the way other people read and interpreted my gender affected and had influenced a lifetime of social and professional interactions, and that those in turn had informed the person I'd grown up into during that time. But I really believed, like I just sort of had in the back of my head, that if you peeled away all of that social conditioning, you'd basically end up with what I got when I tried to draw a self-portrait. So: a pair of glasses, messy scribble of hair, and in this case, maybe also some very strong opinions about the X-Men. I mean, I knew something was off. I'd always known something was off, that my relationship to gender was messy and uncomfortable, but gender itself struck me as messy and uncomfortable, and it had never been a large enough part of how I defined myself to really feel like something that merited further study, and I had deadlines, and...so it was always on the back burner. So, I looked, I looked at what I had, at this improbable group of exclusively male characters. And I looked and I figured that if this wasn't me, then it had to be a result of the stories I had access to, to choose from, and the entertainment landscape I was looking at. And the funny thing is, I wasn't wrong, exactly. I just wasn't right either.

See, the characters I'd written about had one other significant trait in common aside from their gender, which is that they were all more or less explicitly, more or less heavily coded as autistic. And I thought, "Ah, yes. This explains it. This is under representation in fiction echoing under representation in life and vice versa." Because the characteristics that I'd honed in on, that I particularly identified with in these guys, were things like emotional unavailability and social awkwardness and granular obsession, and all of those are characteristics that are seen as unsympathetic and therefore unmarketable in female characters. Which is also why readers were assuming that I was a man.

Because, you see, here's the thing. I'm not the only one who uses stories to navigate the world. I'm just a little more deliberate about it. For humans, stories formed the bridge between data and understanding. They're where we look when we need to contextualize something new, or to recognize something we're pretty sure we've seen before. They're how we identify ourselves; they're how we locate ourselves and each other in the larger world. There were no fictional women like me; there weren't representations of women like me in media, and so readers were primed not to recognize women like me in real life either.

Now by this point, I had started writing a follow-up essay, and this one was also about autism and narratives, but specifically focused on how they intersected with gender and representation in media. And in context of this essay, I went about looking to see if I could find even one female character who had that cluster of traits I'd been looking for, and I was asking around in autistic communities. And I got a few more or less useful one-off suggestions, and some really, really splendid arguments about semantics and standards, and um...then I got one answer over and over and over in community after community after community. "Leverage," people told me. "You have to watch Leverage."

So I watched Leverage. Leverage is five seasons of ensemble heist drama. It's about a team of very skilled con artists who take down corrupt and powerful plutocrats and the like, and it's a lot of fun, and it's very clever, and it's clever enough that it doesn't really matter that it's pretty formulaic, and I enjoyed it a lot. But what's most important, what Leverage has is Parker.

Parker is a master thief, and she is the best of the best of the best in ways that all of Leverage's characters are the best of the best. And superficially, she looks like the kind of woman you see on TV. So she's young, and she's slender, and she's blonde, and she's attractive but in a sort of approachable way. And all of that familiarity is brilliant misdirection, because the thing is, there are no other women like Parker on TV. Because Parker—even if it's never explicitly stated in the show—Parker is coded incredibly clearly as autistic. Parker is socially awkward. Her speech tends to have limited inflection; what inflection it does have is repetitive and sounds rehearsed a lot of the time. She's not emotionally literate; she struggles with it, and the social skills she develops over the series, she learns by rote, like they're just another grift. When she's not scaling skyscrapers or cartwheeling through laser grids, she wears her body like an ill-fitting suit. Parker moves like me. And Parker, Parker was a revelation—she was a revolution unto herself. In a media landscape where unempathetic women usually exist to either be punished or "loved whole," Parker got to play the crabby savant. And she wasn't emotionally intuitive but it was never ever played as the product of abuse or trauma even though she had survived both of those—it was just part of her, as much as were her hands or her eyes. And she had a genuine character arc. My god, she had a genuine romantic arc, even. And none of that required her to turn into anything other than what she was. And in Parker I recognized a thousand tics and details of my life and my personality...but. I didn't recognize myself.

Why? What difference was there in Parker, you know, between Parker and the other characters I'd written about? Those characters, they'd spanned ethnicities and backgrounds and different media and appearances and the only other characteristic they all had in common was their gender. So that was where I started to look next, and I thought, "Well, okay, maybe, maybe it's masculinity. Maybe if Parker were less feminine, she'd click with me the way those other characters had." So then I tried to imagine a Parker with short hair, who's explicitly butch, and...nothing. So okay, I extended it in what seems like the only logical direction to extend it. I said, "Well, if it's not masculinity, what if it's actual maleness? What if Parker were a man?" Ah. Yeah.

In the end, everything changed, and nothing changed, which is often the way that it goes for me. Add a landmark, no matter how slight, and the map is irrevocably altered. Add a landmark, and paths that were invisible before open wide. Add a landmark, and you may not have moved, but suddenly you know where you are and where you can go.

I wasn't going to tell this story when I started planning this talk. I was gonna tell a similar story, it was about stories, like this is, about narratives and the ways that they influence our culture and vice versa. And it centered around a group of women at NASA who had basically rewritten the narrative around space exploration, and it was a lot more fun, and I still think it was more interesting. But it's also a story you can probably work out for yourselves. In fact it's a story some of you probably have, if you follow that kind of thing, which you probably do given that you're here. And this is a story, my story is not a story that I like to tell. It's not a fun story to talk about because it's very personal and I am a very private person. And it's not universal. And it's not always relatable, and it's definitely not aspirational. And it's not the kind of story that you tend to encounter unless you're already part of it...which is why I'm telling it now. Because the thing is, I'm not the only person who uses stories to parse the world and navigate it. I'm just a little more deliberate. Because I'm tired of having to rely on composite sketches.

Open your maps. Add a landmark. Reroute accordingly.

[unadulteratedfandomtrash]

Sam Wilson x Reader ~ Safe & Sound  [Pt.3]

A/N: Hi, guys. I am sorry I took so long to post this final chapter. I had to put a halt to everything in order to focus on some personal matters. I still need time, but I hope to be able to post more consistently in the future. Please enjoy this final part to my Sam Wilson mini-series. Thank you to everyone who has been supporting this account and my writing! I love you all. [Pt. 1]  [Pt.2]  [My Marvel Masterlist] Word Count: 1979

– Previously –

“Tony!” Sam immediately shouts for the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. His nerves feel as if there is molten lava coursing through them. He cannot keep still. “I just got a confirmed location and visual on them.”

“Perfect,” the man in question lands right beside Sam as he replies. “Give me and Rhodey access to that camera feed so we can get to work right away.”

“On it.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the camera feed is shared with the two men in the suits. Tony works on leading his army of AI-controlled suits with James manually shifting aside the smaller pieces of concrete as Sam notifies Scott of their initiation

– Now –

Dust and dirt billows into the air as the Avengers all work together to remove the smaller blocks of concrete and metal to get to the center where their fellow teammates are trapped within. Beads of sweat run down their foreheads as the harsh sun shines brightly in the sky. The mixture of sweat and all those particles leads to a sticky layer of grime clinging to the heroes’ skin.

Despite the exhausting labor, all of the Avengers, especially Sam, refuses to stop. The worse case scenario keeps running through his mind, leaving him even more panicked than before. He knows better than to escalate the situation by being careless, referencing the techniques he learned and taught to the veterans he worked with back when he worked at the verteran’s affairs office, but there is only so much he can do. He is only human, and humans have their limits—(Y/n) being injured is his limit.

A loud chirping beep startles the former airman out of his spiraling anxieties. Looking over to his right, Sam notices that the beeping from his drone is much louder than it was ten minutes ago, prompting him to look down at the gauntlet on his arm; the screen displays the three subjects being tracked: Red Wing, (Y/n), and himself. All three dots are clustered very close to one another.

Surveying the area, Sam notices some precariously balanced concrete slabs blocking the path closest to his injured girlfriend. He grits his teeth in frustration while shouting to gain the attention of his teammates. 

“Guys, I just found the fastest route to reach (Y/n), but the debris here is very unstable. I don’t think we should proceed, bu-”

“We’re gonna have to proceed,” Tony interjects. “With the utmost caution, of course, but time’s running out. We’re losing sunlight.”

“But how are we gonna get to her without dropping the remaining chunks of the building on top of her, Stark? That’s not a risk I am willing to take,” Sam rebuts angrily. He understands why Tony is insisting this, but the fear of losing (Y/n) trumps and rationale.

“We’re going to do this together,” Steve announces from behind, stepping up to place a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “This will put our teamwork skills to the test, but given all the training and this given situation, I am confident we’ll all succeed in this rescue mission.”

Taking a deep breath in, Sam steels himself for the upcoming events that will soon take place. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Easy, easy! Don’t pull yet, Rhodey!”

“Steady, Wanda!”

Tensions rise as each member of the team puts in all of their effort to pull away the debris at the same time to prevent any collapses. Wanda has a few of the larger chunks waiting in her glowy-red grasp, waiting to be levitated into the air as Tony and Rhodes get ready to work together to pull their own concrete boulders with the help of some heavy duty cables scavenged from the aircraft’s storage compartment and Bruce adjusts his hold on a block from the base of the pile as the Hulk. From above, Natasha is sitting in the pilot’s seat of the Quinjet, ready to swoop down to transport (Y/n) over to Helen for medical treatment; Steve and Clint are the ones in charge of running in to grab her as soon as the debris is lifted away.

Sam, on the other hand, is in charge of instructing everyone how and when to move their respective pieces, and to be honest, he hates it. Being the newly-appointed as the orchestrator of this rescue mission is adding on to his already astronomical stress levels. Any wrong move could lead to the death of his girlfriend and teammates, so the man makes an effort to keep a clear mind and concentrate on the problem at hand.

“Okay, we pull away on three,” Sam announces. “Everyone good to go?”

A chorus of agreements and confirmations sound off in response, and as soon as every hero has replied, Sam takes a few deep breaths.

In. 

Out.

In. 

Out.

In.

Out.

“One.”

Everyone tenses up. Their muscles contract and strain, readying themselves for the moment when they need to be put to use. 

“Two.”

A small, minute distance between the ground and the blocks of debris begin to form. There is a loud, deep rumbling of the concrete shifting. It scares them, but nothing has happened yet, so they push forward.

“Three.”

Thrusters, cables, and muscles groan and stretch in complaint as every ounce of effort is put into pulling the debris up and dragging it away. Sam keeps a close eye on each Avenger’s progress, calling out anyone who was moving either too slow or fast in comparison to the rest of the team. It takes quite a while—they work very slowly to maintain as much control over the situation as possible—but after eighteen minutes of hard work, Sam is able to see (Y/n), Scott, and Red Wing behind the concrete.

Unfortunately, their success is cut short when segments of the concrete slab being lifted by Tony and Rhodes break away, descending down towards (Y/n)’s head. A panicked shout leaves all of the heroes’ lips, but all Sam can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. 

Before any of them can react, Scott jumps into action. He is quick to return back to his normal size, throwing himself on top of (Y/n) with his arms caging her sides as his back shields the woman from the falling debris. The solid chunks of cement strike against Scott’s unprotected backside, but he pays no mind to the pain, focusing instead on ensuring that (Y/n) does not become injured any further. 

A mantra of “thank you’s” escape Sam’s lips as he looks down at the camera feed Red Wing is providing, sighing in relief at the sight of Scott re-evaluating (Y/n) just in case his body could not deflect all the debris. There is a thin layer of dirt dusting over her skin, but none of her injuries have worsened since the excavation. 

“Alright, guys, let’s get moving,” Steve’s voice cuts in, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. He realizes that the captain probably predicted his lapse in concentration. “I want to get (Y/n) out of here ASAP. Clint and I are headed over now, so I better see the Quinjet within the next few minutes.”

Having squeezed himself onto the small and uncomfortable plastic chair provided by the hospital staff, Sam waits patiently (Y/n) sleeps through the medications in her system. A part of him grows impatient—he wants her to wake up at this very moment to reassure his frantic heart that everything is okay now—but Sam knows better than that. After the chaos that has taken place over the span of less than twelve hours, (Y/n) deserves all the rest she can get.

As if she could feel the waves of anxiety exuding from her boyfriend, (Y/n)’s hand begins to twitch. This movement does not go unnoticed by Sam. He watches with bated breath as she gradually rouses from her medicated slumber, bleary eyes blinking away the figurative heaviness weighing down on her eyelids. Her eyes slowly survey the room in search of something, or someone, and once they find Sam, a small whine is all she needs to let out in order for him to immediately move to comfort her.

“Hey, beautiful. I’m right here. Don’t move just yet. You’re in the hospital,” Sam gently explains with a hand over (Y/n)’s, “I’ll go get a nurse to help get that tube outta your throat. Just gimme a second, I’ll be right back.” Sam is out of the room before the young woman can even blink; she barely had time to process what he had said to her. She uses the time to examine her surroundings: admiring the colorful blur of flowers and balloons crowding the bedside table, squinting when her eyes meet the harsh, bright lights above, and relishing in the softness of the blanket beneath her fingers. 

For a moment, (Y/n) wonders why her fingers can feel something warm and soft when hospitals only ever provide thin sheets that may as well serve as tablecloth until she cranes her head to look down. Tears well up in her eyes upon noticing that Sam had taken the time to go back to their apartment to retrieve the blanket he had gifted to her for their first anniversary. The plush fabric envelopes her in a cocoon of warmth, both literal and metaphorical. 

“I’m baaaack,” Sam calls out playfully as he re-enters the room with a nurse trailing behind him. “See, I was so fast you probably didn’t even notice I was gone.”

Despite how painful it is to verbally articulate her thoughts with a tube in her throat, (Y/n) manages a small smile. Her goofy boyfriend always manages to find a way to brighten a somber situation. His jokes might be corny and cliche at times, but the energy he puts into them never fails to make everyone laugh, or smirk at the least. 

Finding her hand once more, Sam waits patiently at (Y/n)’s side as the nurse removes any unnecessary equipment. He cracks a few more jokes during her brief assessment, and once she declares his girlfriend to be on the path to a speedy recovery, he quickly thanks her before proceeding to shoo the poor woman out of the room. 

“What,” he asks innocently upon seeing the stink eye directed at him. “Can I help you?”

“She was just doing her job,” she rasps out, her voice hoarse and scratchy thanks to the intubation tube. “You didn’t need to rush her out like that.” “I’m just tryin’ to maximize the time I can spend with my girl before the lady comes back to kick me out for the night.”

With the shake of her head and a playful frown of disappointment, (Y/n) slowly shuffles to the edge of her bed with a groan. Sam immediately rushes over to scold her, but is met with a soft “no.” He stares at her incredulously, but seeing the determined look on his lover’s face, he decides to help her instead, gently tucking his arms under her.

“And may I ask why my seriously injured girlfriend has decided to move from her perfectly comfortable spot on the bed to the very edge of the mattress,” Sam teases while setting her down. Cords and tubes are meticulously rearranged to avoid becoming tangled, or worse, before blankets are piled back on over her.

“Cuddles.” “Oh.” A proud smirk stretches across Sam’s lips as he gingerly crawls into the vacant spot beside (Y/n), wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Is this my payment for rescuing you?”

“No.” The smirk disappears, a pout replacing its place. (Y/n) has to force down the giggle that wants to bubble up to the surface. “This is.”

A quick kiss finds its way to the man’s cheek before a familiar weight settles on his shoulder. Looking down, Sam finds her head nestled between his arm and chest, cheek squished almost uncomfortably into his pectoral. Given the situation, Sam wants to scold her in fear of disturbing any of her injuries, but he cannot find the heart to do it. (Y/n) has always been a very touchy person—she craves physical contact, and seeks it out during stressful times—so seeing her pressed up against his body, Sam realizes she needs the close contact with him. It provides her with a sense of security and warmth that words can never convey.

“Payment accepted,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her head. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms, safe and sound.”

The End

Tag List

@pono-pura-vida​  @wanniiieeee​  @brujademente​  @justanothermagicalsara​

[junicai]

drop offs.

| summary | During filming ‘Highway To Heaven’, there is a small altercation between the heel of Aria’s boot, a loose rock, and the edge of a cliff.

| word count | 3.2k

| warnings | near death experiences (only sort of), swearing

| era | circa. 2019

20. “Put your arm around my - or just fall on me, that works too.”

58. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

The hot desert air blew roughly against the thin cotton of Aria’s shirt - fluttering the material and tugging it against the single button that was holding the fabric closed. The atmosphere was dry and dusty, hence the steadily growing pile of empty water bottles that was building up in the back seat of one of the staff vans that had driven the members to their filming location in the Mojave Desert.

Fanning herself, Aria knelt down to pull on the zipper of her boot, checking that it was still properly closed. Black heeled boots were, realistically, not the most suitable footwear for traversing the desert terrain, but the extra inches of height put her closer to Taeil in stature so she wasn’t going to complain.

However, the last thing she needed to happen was to stumble over a rock and twist her ankle in the middle of filming.

In an ideal world, she’d have perfect balance, even when teetering around on the four-inch, wide-based heel, (or just be four inches taller naturally), but with the wind as a major factor; Aria was stuck playing a balancing act with her body.

They’d been filming for the best part of the day, having arrived in the early morning to scout out the final locations and prep some of the equipment. The journey up in the van was tedious, and over two hours long, but Aria had made herself comfortable on Donghyuck’s shoulder twenty minutes after leaving their hotel, and promptly crashed out a few minutes after that.

Johnny had been the one to gently shake her shoulder, trying to wake her up without startling her while Donghyuck was attempting - and failing - to wriggle his way out from underneath her without jostling her too much. She’d crawled out of the car with a red mark imprinted on her cheek, that she rubbed at harshly when it was pointed out with a giggle by Jungwoo.

The crew had covered the solo shots first - using the time in between each shot to touch up make-up and hair, or in some of the members’ cases, explore the desert and chase unsuspecting lizards through the undergrowth.

Aria had squeaked when a flash of muddy green had darted past her foot, jumping back an inch and then another foot when a sprinting Taeil brushed past in hot pursuit.

She turned back to look at Taeyong who was watching from afar with a huffy look on his face, throwing up his hands when Taeil finally stopped running and turned around defeated.

“Hyung! It keeps going towards you but you’re not catching it!” The leader complained, walking towards him.

Aria raised her eyebrows in disbelief, moving away from the duo that seemed dead set on bothering the unknown creature to stand beside Mark at the edge of the road. “What exactly are they chasing?”

“Lizards.”

“Lizards?”

He nodded.  

Humming softly, Aria shook her head and knelt down again to tug at the zipper on her boot. After a careful yank, she stood back up, having been satisfied that it was still tightly closed.

“Is that hurting you or something?” Mark questioned, looking over at her.

“Oh no,” Aria waved him off. “I don’t know, I’m just paranoid that it’s going to come undone. Bad feeling about it or whatever.” She shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“It’s not pinching you or anything? Because I’m pretty sure there’s band-aids in the back, I can grab you one if you need it?” Mark pressed on.

“No I’m alright. If it bothers me later on, I’ll get one myself okay?”

Mark frowned, still not satisfied.

Aria stood up on her tippy-toes to reach around Mark’s neck, swinging her arm around it. “Markie~ I’m okay! See?” She jumped lightly, hopping on one foot and then the other.

Conceding, he smiled at her, poking her stomach. “Race me.”

Aria hardly blinked. “You’re on.”

“I’m coming!” Donghyuck screamed from the other side of the road, pausing momentarily to check that there were no cars coming up on the otherwise deserted road, before crossing and moving to stand in between the other two maknaes. “Ready?”

“Always.”

“On your marks!”

“Get set!”

“Go!”

The trio set off at a run, dust flying up behind their shoes.

At an immediate disadvantage because of her designated footwear, Aria began to slow almost immediately, the other two boys racing ahead. She cupped her mouth in her hands, starting to call out to them to slow down, they were cheating, but was halted by another voice calling for her from across the other side of the road.

The race was halted as Aria was called for her own solo shots. She pouted at the boys, but claimed that because it was interrupted, then there could be no winner called, and they’d have to do it again later on.

Donghyuck and Mark readily agreed, and Aria left towards her specific filming location with a flutter of her fingers towards the pair.

Now, don’t get her wrong. Aria loved filming their music videos. Watching a creative idea and physical representation of their songs come to life firsthand was incredible, and the costuming, the hair design, the make-up, was all mind-blowing to her. Her hair roots were always crying at the end of a promotional period, but she genuinely thinks she’s never looked as good as she did with the soft, bubble-gum pink hair they’d bleached the strands to dye for this promotional set.

The bright lights and the group shots, dancing a new routine together for the first time in a professional setting that wasn’t the practice room - it was exhilarating.

What was not exhilarating, was the occasionally precarious filming locations that the directors decided fit the theme so well that it would be idiotic to pass up on.

That lead to situations like the current: Aria, Jaehyun, Doyoung, Johnny and Taeil all clustered together at the edge of a rather substantial cliff edge, leaning out over the ledge to see the camera that was filming them.

Aria had a firm grip on the back of Johnny’s shirt, trying to find a groove that she could wedge her heel into to prevent herself from falling should the rocks move from underneath her feet.

The ground was dry, and there was little to no purchase offered from the dust that coated the rolling pebbles. Additionally, the lack of grip on the bottom of her black boots wasn’t helpful, and Aria found herself scrabbling for even a semblance of grip.

“Aria!” A voice called out from the bottom of the cliff.

She leaned over to catch the eye of the cameraman. “We can’t see your face, you’re too far back. Can you shuffle forward a bit?”

Teeth pinching her bottom lip, Aria nodded hesitantly, sliding a hand up Jaehyun’s arm in a silent request for help as he was the one sitting closest to the edge of the cliff.

He took her hand in one of his own, the other moving to grab her elbow as she slowly stepped forward and out onto the front area of the protruding cliff. Here, Aria could feel the complete lack of substance beneath her feet, and although she knew it wasn’t true, it felt like the rock she was standing on was paper thin.

Her weight wobbled to-and-fro for a moment, and Jaehyun gripped her arm tightly.

“Careful.” He warned.

Aria let out a shaky exhale, peering down over the cliff edge. “Is this okay?” She called down.

A hum. “Maybe a little bit more? You’re slightly blocking Taeil at the moment. Just be careful, the rocks mightn’t be stable enough out there to support you, so go slowly.”

Aria didn’t think the rocks were stable enough to support her where she was standing currently, let alone another few inches out, but she began to tentatively step out regardless. Her hand clenched around Jaehyun’s.

Slowly, she moved out further, stepping out onto the edge of the cliff with one eye half closed, expecting the ground to shift but feeling nothing. Blinking in surprise, she then felt confident to transfer her entire weight forward, which was a mistake.

A small circular rock shifted beneath her heel, and Aria’s support crumpled out from beneath her.

She let out a shrill shriek, hands grasping at air behind her. She pushed herself against the falling ground, hoping for the cliff edge.

“Shit!” A strong hand tangled in the material of her shirt, pulling her back none-to-gently into a hard back, arms immediately coming to wrap around her waist and hold her there; steady.

Aria’s breath came in hard pants.

She was shaking rapidly, hands quaking as she tucked them underneath her own arms, eyes fixated on the ground where the rocks she had been stood on had crumbled. They had collected in a neat pile at the foot of the cliff - only a three metre or so drop, but substantial enough that one of the larger rocks had split into half, and the other rocks had cracks lining their sides.

God.

That was an awfully long way down.

Is that what she was standing over?

It was like she was removed from the situation. Aria was looking out over the cliff edge - but it wasn’t her viewpoint. Like a film camera, being watched on a small silver screen.

Where was the film crew?

Had they moved the equipment out of the way in the rocks in time?

Was there a camera buried beneath the pile of rocks?

“-ia, Aria- Riri!” A shout in her left ear, pulling her attention away from the swirling thoughts of oh god oh shit oh god oh s-

“Hey.” Jaehyun had spun her in his arms, dragging her eyes away from the cliff edge and catching her face in his hands, making her face him. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re okay, you’re safe. You’re okay.” His voice had a quiver to it, and his hands had yet to release their painfully tight grip on her arms.

She barely even registered it.

Aria’s voice broke out in a whimper, and as her eyes widened to slowly begin filling with tears, Jaehyun pulled her back into his chest, letting his hand come up to rub soothingly along her back. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you baby, you’re okay.” He soothed.

Her heart was ricocheting around her chest like a boomerang.

At some point, she had sunk to her knees and Jaehyun had followed her down, having pulled her away from the edge of the cliff immediately. She knelt slightly, before sinking bodily into his arms, and Jaehyun continued to murmur comfort into her ear as she buried her face in the loose material of his white shirt.

Her head pounded like a rushing river, too many thoughts too make a lot of sense of any singular one. Behind her eyes, the image of the rocks kept flashing, the feeling of the ground collapsing from beneath her feet, falling, the wind rushing through her ears, falling, a hand grasping the back of her shirt but the grip slipping through loose fingertips, falling, falling falling.  

The pair stayed like that for a while - how long, Aria really wasn’t sure, she was more focused on trying to get herself to stop shaking like a caffeine addict going through withdrawals.

The rocks beneath her knees bit into the skin, but she welcomed the grounding feeling - a small bite of pain nipping through the overwhelming rush of emotions threatening to overtake her and swallow her whole.

Slowly though, her breath came back in measured breaths, calming from the harsh panting that was previously pulling at her lungs.

Taking stock of where she was, Aria began to register the other bodies around her. In the time it had taken for her to re-gather herself, Doyoung had settled behind her, hands hovering like he was afraid to startle her with a touch. Taeil was nowhere to be found, but upon a questioning look from Aria, Doyoung was quick to explain in a soft voice that he had followed Johnny down to get the back of the van set up for her - pulling out an ice-pack from the trailer and gathering the blankets from the other vans.

That had Aria moving to push herself to her feet, shaking her head. “No, no, I’m okay. We still have the group shots to film, I can do it. It’s fine.” She argued weakly.

Jaehyun pulled her back down into her lap with a firm grip. “No, it’s not fine. If it were fine, then you wouldn’t still be shaking like a goddamn leaf.”

Aria consciously clenched her muscles to stop the tremors running through her arms like shockwaves. “M’not.”

Doyoung sighed, raising a hand to run it over Aria’s mildly disheveled hair. It would have to be restyled later on, but the windswept look was something that they were aiming for, so he didn’t think it was too bad, all things considered.

“Baby, it’s okay to be scared after that. No one’s expecting you to do anything more today.”

“But it’s fine-”

“You could have died, Akari!” Jaehyun was shaking as well, something that Aria had just noticed. He dropped his head to rest on her shoulder. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. So please. Just, sit down in the van right now, okay?”

“Jae, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, hyung!”

Aria took in a stuttered breath. “B-but I’m ok-ay-” Her voice cracked slightly, tremors returning full-force.

The two boys returned their focus to the girl in between them, exchanging a meaningful glance that meant nothing to Aria. Doyoung wrapped his arms around her as well, and soon she was caught in a hug between them, finally letting the tears pool up in her eyes.

“I-I’m o-kay,” She stuttered out, fists gripping someone’s shirt - she didn’t care too much who it was at the time.

“Yeah,” Doyoung pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tightening his arms briefly. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay.”

It wasn’t until sometime after, once Aria had managed to pull back the tears and had calmed the shaking to some degree, that Jaehyun gave her a soft prompt to stand up. Her legs were like a newborn foal beneath her, knees shifting and she leant out to grip at Doyoung’s arm again as he moved away.

“Here, here.” Jaehyun pulled her towards him. “Put your arm around my - or just fall on me. That works too.” His concerned tone was undercut by a ribbon of teasing, although it did little to mask how reluctant he was to let go of the young girl, even for a moment.

“Shush.” Aria straightened up herself from where she had face planted into his chest again, her knees having betrayed her to gravity, but this time made no complaint when Jaehyun’s arm retook its spot around her waist.

Together, with the aid of Doyoung, Aria made her way down the dusty cliffside, moving over to the van with an open door, and some of the members waiting around it anxiously.

Yuta was the first to break away from the group, making his way over to hoist Aria into his arms - paying no mind to her stuttered exclaim of hey! His arms slipped beneath her knees, and he lifted her gently, taking the weight off of Jaehyun’s staggering frame.

Upon reaching the van, it was like telepathy. Yuta turned to let Jaehyun take the weight of Aria from his arms - he already knew that the younger boy was shook up, and wouldn’t be comfortable unless he was physically touching Aria in some shape or form for the next few hours - while Taeyong was patting Mark on the back and alerting him to Aria’s arrival.

Jaehyun slid in first, before Aria was placed gently onto the blankets, Mark piling in behind her and proceeding to wrap her in another hug. This time though, it wasn’t her that was shaking, and she could feel the soft quiver of Mark’s hands as they pulled loosely at the bottom of her shirt.

Together, the two boys replicated the hug that Jaehyun and Doyoung had wrapped her in a few minutes ago.

“M’okay.” She whispered.

“You almost weren’t.” Came his huffed response.

“But I am.”

Mark gave no reply.

“God-” Jaehyun choked out a laugh, running a hand though his hair. “Never - and I mean never - do that again.”

She looked down. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Mark’s head had snapped up from where he had buried it in her shoulder. “For causing a cliff-collapse? Because I’m pretty sure there’s someone who needs to apologize for that and it’s not you its the director.”

Aria winced. She had watched through the sliver of the car door that was still open as Taeyong had cast a cold look over to Yuta and Johnny, the three men exchanging a nod before moving away from the vehicle and over to where the staff were finishing up with Donghyuck’s solo shots. The second youngest member had been a few minutes walk away when it had all happened, so he hadn’t been privy to the theatrics of it all; something that Aria was ultimately grateful for.

She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to breath ever again if Donghyuck had been one of the men wrapped around her right then.

Either way, the three men had made their way out of view of the car, and Aria didn’t envy anyone who was on the other end of their glares. Taeyong had looked pissed, and honestly Aria was growing too tired to care.

After the shaking had died down, it was like her muscles had atrophied in under a minute, and suddenly she was left weakened and with the want to curl up in a ball to sleep.

It seemed, however, that Jaehyun had already prepared for this, and was moving Mark and himself around to allow Aria to curl up comfortably in the back of the van - her head in his lap and her feet in Mark’s.

“M’sorry.” She whispered again, just about to fall off into sleep.

“You’re okay, baby. It’s not your fault. We’re all just happy you’re okay.” Jaehyun murmured, petting her hair lightly.

“Thank you,” Aria turned her head to breath the words into Jaehyun’s stomach, hand coming to squeeze his arm. “Thank you for catching me.” Her voice broke slightly.

“I’m not about to let you down on my watch. And that includes falling to a potential death.” The weak attempt at a joke brought a watery laugh from Aria’s lips nonetheless.

“Can I say I saw the highway to heaven now?”

A soft chuckle, and another pet through her hair. “Sure, baby.”

With Jaehyun’s hand running soothing circuits through her hair, and Mark having worked off her boots - tutting lightly at the red marks that they had left - Aria drifted.

head full of cliff edges and falling.

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 1 - Meeting the Team

This was it.  She was excited.  No excited wasn’t the word.  Terrified? Yeah, that was closer.  Marinette was about to step into the Young Justice base for the first time and meet her new teammates.  What if they don’t like her?  What if they don’t let her join the team?  What if they let her join the team but they exclude her?  What if they get mad at her because she won’t expose her identity and they think she doesn’t trust them?  What if she messes up and she ends up getting someone killed?  What if she gets one of her teammates killed? What if she gets someone else killed? What if… No!  

She wasn’t going to do that.  She wasn’t the same 14 year old girl who spiraled into anxiety-induced, worst-case-scenario, death spirals.  She was 17 now.  She was in her final year of school before college, nearly an adult, legally, she was an adult.  She was the Guardian.  She was a hero.  She was already in a prestigious internship with one of the biggest names in fashion.  She was working with the Justice League, well Young Justice, but that was better because there wasn’t as much of a time commitment, which was really good because she didn’t have much to spare… where was she going with this? Right!  She was smart.  She was competent.  She was confident(ish).  She was… standing outside the zeta tube opening staring at it like an idiot, and she was going to be late.  

She took a deep breath and ran her free hand over the costume she wasn’t quite used to yet, trying to find comfort in the feeling and focus her mind.  She could do this.  She may no longer be able to be Ladybug for secrecy reasons, but Ladybug wasn’t her only option.  She was Chimera now and Chimera was not linked back to the miraculous.  So this new and completely un-miraculous affiliated hero definitely wasn’t unifying the fox and horse miraculous.  Chimera was a separate and unmiraculous hero.  She was a new heroic entity; a powerful amalgamation of divergent parts; an illusion, who uses illusions; a dream that can never be captured.   Chimera was just another magical hero working in the background.

Gone was the flashy, bright suit of a central hero.  She was a shadow now and her suit reflected her new role.  The base of the suit was a brown so dark, it almost looked black.  Her knee-high boots and gloves that reached to midway up her bicep were both black, meeting with the brown core of the suit with a strip of deep orange.  Her mask was the same dark brown color with deep orange at the corners.    She no longer had her yoyo, but in its place was a rope that responded to her like her yoyo did.  Her flute across her back completed her weaponry.

She was still a hero, just not a miraculous one, as far as anyone else knew. She was still protecting people for now, she just wasn’t on the front lines anymore.  She was still protecting the miraculous and would for the rest of her life.  And she was still… standing outside the Zeta tube opening, staring.

She closed her eyes, and walked through the portal.  Before she let out her breath, she could feel a difference in the air around her.  She heard a digital voice say “Recognize Chimera B12.”  She opened one eye tentatively and jumped back with a quiet squeak when she saw Batman standing on the other side giving her an amused smile next to Black Canary and a red figure.  

Black Canary stepped forward, “Welcome to Mount Justice, Chimera.  You’ve already met Batman.  This is Red Tornado.  He supervises the cave here.” Chimera nodded to him but before she could say anything Black Canary continued speaking.  “We are very excited to have you here.  While you are training and on missions, this will be your home.  I know you have an apartment near your internship, but if you ever want to get away, you are always welcome to stay here whenever and however long you want to.” Her voice was warm and welcoming.  She leaned over and lowered her voice, “lead lined walls and no bugs or cameras allowed in the personal rooms in case you want to drop your transformation while you are here.”  She gave her a nod and started walking, motioning to Chimera to follow her.

“As discussed before, your team knows nothing about you.  What you choose to disclose is your decision.  Only Batman and I know anything more.  The team is used to people hiding their identities so there is no pressure to give your personal identity.  I mean, there might be teasing, but you are under absolutely no obligation to divulge and they will respect that.  Especially since Robin is under the same requirement.”  

They entered into a small sitting area that appeared to be their common room. The first thing she noticed was a kitchen that was almost as nice as her parents’ kitchen in the bakery and significantly bigger.  She let out a quiet “Wow” without even noticing she had done it.  She would have to try that out as soon as she was able to get back to it.

“Pretty nice, huh?” She heard from behind her.  She whirled around and finally noticed the other half of the room were a few couches and chairs were clustered in front of a television.  More significantly, there was a red headed boy talking to her, standing in front of four other teens.  They were looking at her with uncertainty and a slight bit of curiosity except the red headed boy who looked excited to meet her, and the larger black haired boy who looked a bit hostile.

“Uh, yeah.  It’s… um, a really nice kitchen.  It looks… really professional.”  She stammered, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

The red head smiled brightly at her.  “Only the best for the Justice League.”

“Alright team, it’s nice to see your smiling faces.” Black Canary started with more than a hint of sarcasm.  “I would like to introduce you to your new team member.  This is Chimera.”  Chimera gave an awkward wave to the Young Justice members.  “She was recruited by the Justice League.  Her identity is secret and will stay that way, am I clear?” She stared at each of the team members one at a time.  “Good. She is here under an outside deal so she may not always be available for missions, but she will be here whenever she can be.”

The red head raised his hand. “Wally, you don’t have to raise your hand.” Batman said tiredly.

“What is the outside deal?  What does that even mean?”

“It means something else brought her to our vicinity and she is only available to us because of that.  The details of the deal are not important.  Only that she is a hero on your team and every bit as dedicated to the team as the rest of you.”

“How is she as dedicated if she can’t commit to being here?” Artemis snarked quietly to Superboy.

“We all have outside lives that demand our attention.  There are times I can’t go out with the Justice League.  One of the others cover for me.  Are you suggesting I am not committed to the Justice League?” Batman stared harshly at her.

“No, sir.” Artemis shrunk back.

“I’m sorry, I have school and… other obligations, but I promise I will give you as much time and attention as I can spare without going insane.  Learned that the hard way.” She looked down as she muttered the last part under her breath.  She quickly looked back up hoping nobody heard her.  Everyone seemed to have the same expressions on their faces except Superboy who was giving her a quizzical look.  “I am committed to the team.  I want to be here, I promise.  Um… here, I brought macarons!”  She said with forced cheeriness, attempting to placate their suspicions and hostility. She opened the lid to the box of macarons she had brought with her.

Chimera’s hair blew back as Wally rushed forward.  He had already grabbed three macarons before she even saw him move. “These are delicious!  Where did you get them?”

“Thank you.  I made them. I like to bake.”  She smiled broadly at him.

Wally stared at her with his jaw open, the macaron close to falling out of his mouth. “Marry me.” He said dreamily.

Chimera giggled at him.  “How about I use the only-the-best kitchen to make something else for you a bit later instead?”

Wally gave her a bright grin.  “That will work.”  He looked at the rest of the macarons longingly then back at his teammates.  “Uh…. These are absolutely terrible and you shouldn’t have to be subjected to them.  I’ll just finish these off so you don’t have to.”  He reached back toward the box but Chimera closed the lid and raised an amused brow at him.

“Move over,” Robin pushed Wally to the side.  “Thank you Chimera.  That was sweet of you.”  He took a bite and looked back up at her with a smile.  “Hey, Wally was right.  These are delicious.  Artemis, Kaldur, Superboy, get over here and try these.”

Kaldur and Artemis came over, Artemis shoving Wally again for no apparent reason. Superboy stayed where he had been and continued to eye her suspiciously.  Wally looked at them with a pout.  “Hey!  Leave some for me.”

“You’ve already had a bunch.  The rest of us get some too.” Artemis rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.  I need to eat.” Wally whined.

“Thank you… I’m sorry, I didn’t get any of your names.” Chimera said apologetically.

“Tall, blonde, and hostile is Artemis.  Tall, blonde, and aloof is Kaldur.  Tall, dark, and broody back there is Superboy.  You already met Wally, aka Kid Flash.  And I’m Robin.”  Robin gave her a charming smile and shook her hand.

She gave them all a brilliant smile.  “It is nice to meet you all.  I’m really excited to work with you.”  Wally smiled broadly at her and gave a lovesick sigh.  Artemis groaned and turned away.

Kaldur moved forward and extended his hand to her, “Welcome to the team.”

She shook his hand and gave him a warm smile.  “Thank you.”

“Okay, now that everyone has introduced themselves, let’s get to the training area.  I’m interested to see how Chimera’s powers work with the rest of yours.”  Black Canary announced.

“The training area is just this way,” Robin said with a suave smile, sweeping his arm out toward the direction they were supposed to move.

“Thanks,” Chimera smiled anxiously at him.

Wally came up on the other side of her and bumped his shoulder gently into hers.  “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.” He said with a wink.

Chimera looked at him blank faced for a few seconds before throwing him a sassy grin.  “It’s not me I’m worried about, speedy.”

“Oh no, Speedy was someone else.” Artemis threw in, moving past the group.

“You’re kidding.” Chimera stared at her.

“Nope.” Artemis responded popping the p.  “A whole different hero.  Not even fast either.  Makes no sense.”

“Good to know.” Chimera nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, she can never meet Speedy.” Wally looked at the other heroes with wide eyes.

“Is he that bad?” Chimera asked, concern seeping into her eyes.

Artemis turned back to her and grinned wickedly, “No, he’s afraid you’ll start dating him.”

“Ahh.  I don’t date teammates so, don’t worry.”  Chimera reassured Wally with a clap on his back.  Artemis barely contained the chuckles that were fighting to spill out.

Wally gave her a distressed look, “But, teammates are great.  They are supportive and understand you… They’re… They’re the ideal dating material.”

“You make some interesting points.” She nodded as though contemplating his words.  “Luckily, you have very pretty and interesting teammates, four at least from what I can see.  So you have a wealth of dating material at your disposal.”  Chimera gave him a wink and walked ahead of him.  Artemis cackled loudly and threw her arm over Chimera’s shoulders, walking along with her.  “I think I’m going to like having you here.”

Chimera smiled at her.  “Good.  I hope so.”

Black Canary gave them a serious look and stood in the middle of the sparring area as the team lined up around the edges.  “Let’s get started.  This is an exhibition sparring match.  We want to see what you can do and what your teammates can do and see how you can mesh.”

“You don’t know what she can do?” Kaldur asked.

“I know. It’s you I’m concerned about.  You’re going to be working with her and leading her. You need to know what she can do. So, Chimera?  Go full force.  We want to know what to plan for in the field.”  Black Canary commanded.

Chimera looked at her unsure.  “Full force?  Are you sure? I don’t want to… That can be really dangerous.”

Black Canary nodded in understanding.  “I get that, but I assure you it will be fine.  We just need to see where you are in your skills, so we need you to give it your all.”

Chimera eyes got even bigger, “I’m not going to kill someone to prove a point.  I can do a demonstration instead.”

The rest of the team looked at her insulted.  Robin finally spoke up to scoff at her.  “We can take it.  We’ve dealt with worse.  Don’t worry.”

Ladybug looked back at him with wide eyes.  “It isn’t… I don’t think I’m a better fighter than you.  I’m positive you all have better training than I do, especially since I don’t have any, it’s just… I’ve brought down the Eiffel Tower with one hit before.  Thank god for miraculous ladybugs.  But you all look a bit more…” she struggled for an appropriate word to finish her thought, “…vulnerable.  I really don’t want to hurt any of you.”  She shot him a pleading look.

Superboy stepped forward with a determined look on his face. “Then try me.  I’m less…” he paused as if thinking, “what was that word you used… Vulnerable.”

She looked at him uncertain then looked over to Black Canary, taking note of her stern expression.  She nodded and stepped onto the mat.  “I’ll make it work.” Chimera offered uncertainly.

They faced each other for a few moments before settling into a fighting stance.  When she was ready, Chimera nodded to Superboy.  He rushed at her and extended his arm at the last second to deliver a haymaker punch.  Chimera bent backwards and twirled in a semi-circle so she was standing behind him and kicked him in the butt, sending him sprawling on the floor.  He got up and glared at her.  He rushed her again, this time aiming for her waist so she couldn’t duck under him.  She stared at him coming at her like a deer in headlights.  Superboy got a smug glint in his eye as he closed in on her.  At the last second, Chimera jumped up and rolled down his back, landing on her feet behind him, the wide eyed expression long gone.

“We need you to try, Chimera.  We need you to actually fight, not just dodge.”  Batman stated sternly.

Chimera looked over to him to nod at the instruction. The momentary distraction was enough for Superboy to land a hard hit to her stomach.  The force of the impact sent her flying across the mat.  The team winced and groaned in sympathy as she hit a wall with a hard thump.  Superboy moved over to her to check on her but stopped half way to her.   Chimera stood up and cocked her head to the side, examining Superboy.  She raised her brow and asked calmly, “So… super strength.  Invulnerability?”

He nodded at her.  “Okay then.”  She smirked at him, walking back to the central area of the room.  “Let’s do this.”  He smiled slightly and nodded.  She immediately launched herself at him, catching him by surprise.  She punched him hard enough to send him across the room in the opposite direction.  He slid toward the wall but was able to regain enough control to use the wall as a springboard to launch himself back at her.  She saw him coming and twisted at the last second, using his momentum against him to push him off balance.  He recovered quicker than she expected and swept her legs out from under her. She used her momentum to turn the fall into a flip, leading to a series of flips and twists taking her away from him, giving her some space to think.

They circled around each other trying to plan their next move.  Suddenly Chimera stopped and looked like she just realized something.  “Oh I forgot.  I’m supposed to be showing my skills…” she started innocently.  Superboy took advantage of her apparent distraction to jump at her again but that was the moment she had been waiting for.  “Voyage” she whispered and created a portal behind her. She stepped out of the way at the last possible second, sending Superboy through the portal at full speed.  The portal ended close to the rock wall on the other side of the room.  Superboy almost slammed into the wall with his full force but she had left him enough room to bounce back off the wall and launch himself back through the portal and back in front of her, throwing a punch toward her sternum that she was just barely able to twist away from, rolling along his arm until she was in the perfect position to elbow him in the back of his head.  He grunted and turned back toward her, circling around her again.

“Full force, Chimera,” Black Canary chastised her.

“Not going to make him bleed on purpose for a game, Ms. Canary.” Chimera responded, still focused on Superboy.  “Besides, we’re not done yet.”  She turned to Superboy, “Right?”  He nodded at her, an amused glint in his eyes.  “I haven’t even showed off all my skills yet.”

“Well, let’s see those skills you keep talking about.” Superboy taunted her.

“If you say so Superboy.” She smirked at him then frowned.  “I don’t appreciate that your actual name is the name I would have called you to taunt you.  You’re making my job harder.”

He frowned at her, the amused look that had been in his eyes dropping.  “So sorry my name is an inconvenience.  You can call me The Weapon like my makers did if you prefer.”

Chimera stood up straight, fidgeting and frowning at him.  “That’s… really?” She looked around to the other heroes.  They all nodded solemnly.

She looked back at him with softer eyes.  “What do you want to be called?” She asked in a kind tone.

“I… Superboy.”  He said stiffly, not exactly sure how to respond to the shift in atmosphere.

Chimera nodded and gave him a warm smile.  “Superboy it is.  No nicknames unless you approve of them.”

“As heartwarming as this is, you are supposed to be sparring.” Black Canary reminded them.

“Right,” Chimera said shook her head to refocus herself. “Sorry.”  She whispered “Mirage,” bringing her flute up to her lips.  As soon as the notes were heard, a dozen replicas of her appeared and began running around the circle.  Superboy tried to scan them but they all looked identical even with his infrared vision.  He stilled to listen for a heartbeat or breathing, but he couldn’t detect it in any of them.  He looked around wildly.  It was a sea of dark brown and bright orange.  He nodded to himself calculating the possibilities.  Most likely she managed to split herself.  So either they are all fully sentient or there is a central figure controlling them.  He’d have to hope for the latter.

His eyes flicked to one of the figures running at him.  The figure jumped into a flying kick.  He dodged out of the way and rolled to his feet, looking around again for the next attack. He didn’t wait long.  Another figure ducked low to sweep his feet.  He jumped over her but felt a sharp pain in his side as one of the replicas body checked him with enough force to knock him into the far wall.  

Superboy shook his head to clear it.  When he took more than a few seconds to recover, the replicas looked at him concerned.  One of them finally moved forward and asked “Are you okay to continue?”  

He stared at the replica for a few moments before nodding.  “We’re not done yet.”  All the replicas smiled at him and moved into new positions, waiting for him to indicate he was ready.  As soon as he nodded two replicas moved to attack him, one went high, one went for his legs.  He lunged for the one going high, jumping over the one going for his legs.  As soon as he reached her, she disappeared.  Not meeting the resistance he had expected, the force of the lunge caused him to lay out flat on the floor.  He grunted and jumped up before any of the replicas could attack again.  

As soon as he was up he looked around with a grin. “Mirage,” he repeated.  They were all an illusion.  He just had to find the real one.  Two attacked him again.  He hit one causing it to disappear but the other one hit him with her flute, knocking him to the side.  He shook his head again and turned back to them and backed away, giving himself space. He just had to find the one. There had to be an indication of which one was the real one.  He couldn’t use his infrared vision or hearing.  Maybe there was something about them.  He stared at them as they circled around each other.  There!  There was one with a different shade of orange, the shade Chimera had before the match. All the replicas had bright orange but the real Chimera had deep orange accents.  

He kept his eyes moving so she wouldn’t know he’d made her.  He moved forward toward one of the replicas moving to punch her.  Chimera attacked from the side again, coming at him before he could touch the replica and make it disappear.  He grinned to himself.  At the last second, he changed his trajectory and sent another haymaker toward her.  He jerked back in pain as the replica he had been moving toward originally made contact, knocking the air out of his lungs. He grunted in anger and confusion as a rope was tied around him, pinning down his arms.  His legs were swept out from under him causing him to land hard. He trashed with all his strength as he felt her tying his legs too.  He kept thrashing against the rope, but no matter how hard he pushed and pulled, the rope showed no indication of weakening.  

After a few moments of him pointlessly struggling, Black Canary walked over and declared Chimera the winner.  She smiled excitedly at Chimera.  “Now we know what we’re working with and we can plan how to incorporate your skills into missions and approaches to your training.”

Chimera nodded in understanding and looked over to the team who were still watching her in various degrees of surprise.  Kaldur nodded in approval.  Wally and Artemis stared at her in shock.  Robin was pointing and laughing at Superboy.  Chimera glowered at him and turned back to Superboy, releasing the rope so he could get up.  

As soon as he was freed, Superboy jumped up and rubbed his arms, glaring at the floor.  Chimera smiled nervously in his direction, but he refused to look at her and had turned his body away from her.  She sighed and looked down too, shifting nervously.  After a few moments, she started gathering up the rope to tie it back around her waist.  She furrowed her brows at the sound of Robin still laughing, which seemed to upset Superboy even more.  She narrowed her eyes at him and whipped the rope out in his direction.  It snapped a few inches away from his face with a crack so loud it reverberated throughout the cave.  Robin jumped away awkwardly and fell backwards, landing on his butt.

Superboy looked from Robin to her.  He let out a small laugh and gave her a smile. Chimera took it as a good sign and smiled back at him.  “That was a lot of fun.  You are really good at picking up on details, otherwise that color trick wouldn’t have worked.” Her voice was soft, like she was addressing a scared child.

He nodded at her and quietly said, “Thanks. It was fun.”

“Does that mean we can do it again sometime?  I need practice sparring and I’m usually afraid I’ll hurt someone when I’m in the suit and when I’m not, it isn’t as effective. I mean, helpful still, but not as effective.”  He stared at her for a few seconds but finally nodded at her.

“That was a pretty good introduction but it’s getting late now.  I think it’s time to call it a night.  Red Tornado, can you take Chimera to the room she will be using so she can recharge?” Black Canary asked.

When Chimera returned a few minutes later, the group smiled at her and gave their goodbyes.  They made plans for everyone to return the next day for more training.  One by one, they all left through the Zeta tubes except for Superboy.  Chimera looked at him confused.  “Are you not leaving too?”

“No.” He stated coldly.

“Why not?  I mean… if you don’t mind me asking.” She stammered out.

“Because I live here.” He grumbled back at her.

“Alone?” She gasped.

“With Red Tornado.” He corrected defiantly.

“But no other… people? In this big, empty, cold place?” She looked out over the cave, the empty, cold, inhospitable place he was going to call home.

“I like being alone.”  He stated in an annoyed voice.

Something that looked like anger flashed across her face transforming into a determined look before she smoothed it out and gave him a cheeky grin.  “That’s a shame.”  

He narrowed his eyes looking at her suspiciously, “Why is that?”

“I’m moving in.”  Her smile grew bigger.

He furrowed his brow and frowned, “What?”

“I’m moving in.  I have school and, uh… stuff during the day, but I’ll be here in the mornings and at night, most weekends.” She nodded at him.  “It will be like a sleepover every night… except we’ll be sleeping in separate rooms.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, unsure how to react. “Whatever,” he grunted walking back toward the residence area.  “Dinner is usually in like 30 minutes.” He called over his shoulder.  She smiled in his direction.  It wasn’t a warm welcome but it was better than nothing.  

“Are you sure about this?  It isn’t required for you to live here.  Most of the members don’t.” Black Canary reassured her.

“That’s why I’m doing it.  I’ve already had one teammate who had to live essentially alone and isolated in a big, empty space.  He hated it.  It messes with your self-worth and your ability to interact with other people, no matter how badly you want to.  It scrapes away at your humanity.  I couldn’t really do anything for his living situation, but I can do something for Superboy.”

“It will make keeping your identity more difficult.” Batman warned her softly.

“I know, but he’s my teammate.  I won’t abandon him.  And I need a friend here too.  I’ll be all alone otherwise, so… it will be mutually beneficial… I hope.”  She added tentatively.

Batman and Black Canary shared an approving look with each other and turned back to her.  “Okay.  Let us or Red Tornado know if you need anything.  We really think you are going to fit in amazingly with this team.”

Chimera smiled at them and shifted slightly to look out over the rest of the cave.  “I think so, too.”

Chapter 2

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In the Neighbourhood

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, very lightly edited

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After your grandmother breaks her hip, you volunteer to look after her as she recovers but her neighbour is a bit too friendly.

Note: @lokislastlove​ thinks I won’t call her out anymore but I’m calling her out and you should too. Always blame her.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your grandmother’s house never changed. Nestled between two larger homes and with grass as green as the next, it was as perfect as any along the suburban sprawl. Inside, the same framed pictures of your mother and your aunt and uncle, those of you, your siblings, and your cousins, and family members you only saw at reunions. All of them far away. All of them keeping her company only in the still images. None of them coming to care for her; none but you.

You didn’t mind so much. With two degrees under your belt, you were ready to start your novel as you pondered a third. Your online transcription job was easy enough to travel with and you loved your grandmother. The least you could do was help her out in her recovery. A broken hip but otherwise okay. She couldn’t do much from her wheelchair and you feared a worse injury if she tried.

You moved in on a Sunday. The family next door, the Barbers, were the perfect picture of a suburban clan. Andy introduced himself and his wife, Laurie, and their quiet son, Jacob. Then they asked if your grandmother, Lucille, was coming to their barbecue that afternoon and invited you along with her. Your grandmother confirmed that she didn’t want to miss out on Laurie’s potato salad because she’d tripped on a rug.

So you wheeled her over, careful as the grass slowed the chair, and you angled her through the open gate. You seemed to be the last to arrive. The air smelled of searing beef and swirled with the buzz of voices. You stood behind your grandmother’s chair as you looked around nervously and a plump woman with short curly white hair approached.

“Darla!” You grandmother greeted. “You’re back from your little getaway.”

“Arn was keen to come home,” The woman smiled up at you and back to your grandmother. “I heard you had a bit of an incident.”

“Oh, still spry, but the damn doctor has me ‘takin’ it easy’,” You grandma sneered. “I’ll be up at it before long. This is my granddaughter, you remember her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Darla smiled though you barely remembered her. “So sweet of you to come down to look after our Lucille.”

“It’s nothing,” You said. “I owe her. I spent too many holidays on campus.”

“That you did,” Your grandmother chided. “But do go on and socialise, dear. There must be someone here your own age. Or closer to. You can’t be lettin’ yourself get caught up with us old biddies.”

“I’m fine,” You chuckled. “Really.”

“You go. Get something to drink.” You grandmother snapped her fingers. “Mingle!”

You huffed but left her with Darla and another woman, you were certain her name was Betty, passed you on her way to join them. You looked around. The wives were in their clusters and the men drank from brown bottles as they laughed and talked about sports. You didn’t know about children or baseball. 

You went to the end of the table, just by the barbecue, a cooler open and waited as a young boy claimed a can of Orange Crush. You reached inside and took out a grape soda. The lid of the barbecue closed and you turned to face its master; Andy smiled as you blinked at him.

“That’s the kid’s cooler,” He said. “There’s a mini fridge in the garage if you want something stronger.”

“I’m good with this,” You cracked the can. 

“I thought you were a college girl,” He said as he set down his long spatula.

“Graduated.” You assured him. “Never was big on the scene though.”

“Really?” He lifted a brow. “I kinda miss it.” He stepped around the barbecue, closer to you. “It was a while ago now but it was fun. You know,” He put his hands on his hips as he looked across the yard. “I was in a frat with Carson over there,” He nodded to skinny man holding a bottle of water amid the sea of brown glass. “We got in quite a bit of trouble. Maybe I wrote a few of my exams drunk but didn’t do much harm.”

“Oh yeah?” You said dully. “What do you do now?”

“Law. Assistant district attorney.” He preened. “But don’t worry, I can still have fun.”

He winked and you squinted at him. He was an old man trying to relate to a youth. There was what, ten, fifteen years between you? Wasn’t that much, really, and yet it was.

“Legal fun,” You suggested.

“Well, the immoral isn’t always illegal,” He mused. “So… Miss Graduate, you have a job lined up?”

“I work online for now but I’m writing, too.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy but it’ll do for the time being. Until my grandma’s better.”

“That’s a nice thing you’re doing,” He said. “You know, not a lot of people I know my age would drop everything to go care for family.”

“Least I can do,” You sipped from the can. “She always did make the best lemon meringue. It has its perks.”

He chuckled and backed up as he grabbed the spatula again and opened the barbecue.

“Offer stands,” He called over the smoke. “Beer’s in the garage.”

“Thanks,” You smiled and slowly walked away. This was like that party you’d spent hiding on the porch; awkward as hell.

🏡

The first two weeks passed swiftly. You woke up, made breakfast for your grandmother, her usual oatmeal and tea, then you spent a few hours working online, then lunch, an hour of writing, a walk through the neighbourhood, some alone time, dinner, and then some nightly crime dramas with your grandmother. Each day was identical to the last and you felt the vaunted slog of suburban life.

It was Saturday. You needed to get out. Your grandmother even encouraged it. A few hours at the bar, drinking, dancing, you returned with a guy, Gabe, you met there, hushing him as you snuck him in the front door. 

The house was dark as you climbed the stairs carefully and ushered Gabe into your bedroom. You closed the door and grabbed him as you stumbled to the bed. It was messy, hurried, and desperate. Entirely regrettable as you laid staring out the window at the sky after. You didn’t have time to ask him to leave before he started snoring.

You slept for a few hours and woke as the sun began to rise. You poked the stranger you knew as Gabe until he woke up and you threw his clothes at him before you dressed. You peeked into the hall and waved him out behind you. You led him down the stairs and to the front door. He left you with some empty nicety and you hid your wince. It wasn’t your first one night stand but it was definitely the worst.

“Fun night?” You turned as Andy descended the steps of his porch and opened his car door.

“You work on Sundays?” You grumbled. You hoped he hadn’t seen your regret walking away.

“Not usually but I got some hours to make up.” He dropped his briefcase in the back seat and closed the door. “I know that guy. Pretty sure he’s still on probation for the molly he was dealing at the mechanics.”

“Ugh, no.” You covered your face. “You saw?”

“I got a bit curious as I was finishing my coffee.” He pointed to the window with lacy curtains. “Great view just above the sink.”

“So you’re one of those neighbours?” You crossed your arms.

“I seem nosy but really I’m just looking out for you.” He opened the driver’s side door and planted his hand on the roof of the car. “Look, you don’t know the people around here. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I won’t be seeing him again.” You retreated to the door and stopped there. “Boring, to say the least.”

“Heh,” Andy scoffed. “Really?”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside, closing the door with a snap. You went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Hey, grandma,” You called as you began to climb. “You ready to get up?”

🏡

At the end of the next week, you took your grandmother to her check up. Her recovery was on track but she had a long way to go. The doctor was optimistic that at her next appointment, she’d be ready to use her walker more often.

As you helped her out of the car and got her settled in her chair, you ignored the roar of the mower in the next yard. You’d seen Andy as you drove up. He was pushing the machine back and forth across his already perfectly manicured yard; shirtless. As you turned to push your grandmother up the walk, you couldn’t help but notice that he was in great shape for his age. For any age, really.

“Hey,” He yelled over the motor and shut it down. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Andy,” Your grandmother chimed. “Great! Doc says I’m doing well.”

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled, still slightly embarrassed over your last interaction with the man.

“Well, seeing as I’m already out here and you already had such a busy day, I could do your lawn while I’m at it?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and you quickly tore your eyes away from his chest. 

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Your grandma giggled. “It’s so hot out here.”

“I don’t mind,” He insisted. “Laurie’s gone to see her parents with Jacob so I’m just trying to keep myself busy.”

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya?” Your grandmother shook her hand. “Fine! Sweetie,” She reached back and tapped your hand. “Let’s go make some lemonade for this young man so he doesn’t overheat.”

Andy smiled and you nodded at him awkwardly. You wheeled your grandmother up the newly installed ramp and inside. She ordered you to the kitchen and directed you to the lemons hidden in the crisper.

“The juicer is just under there.” She pointed to the cupboard, “And you’ll want to add some sugar.”

“I know how to make lemonade, grandma,” You said as you pulled out the pitcher.

“That Andy’s a nice man,” She said. “So helpful… handsome too. It’s too bad you’re so young… and he’s so married.”

“Stop,” You warned. “You said the same thing about your doctor.”

“Yes, but he’s a doctor. He’s rich.” She snickered. “And not married, just not into your type.”

“Grandma,” You snipped. “Really.”

“I don’t know how your mother ended up with you.” She said. “She was such a little troublemaker.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard,” You said as you washed the lemon juice from your hands and added water and sugar to the pitcher. “I think her stories were more a warning.”

“Too smart for your own good,” She tutted as you mixed the lemonade.

You went to the cupboard and grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer as you set a glass on the counter. You poured the lemonade and gave her a sour look. 

“You think you can look after yourself for a few minutes?” You asked dryly.

“Girlie, I was taking care of you while you were in diapers,” She narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“I don’t wear diapers,” She hissed as you neared the door. “Yet.”

You went out the front door as Andy pushed the mower across the yard just along the walkway. He stopped and looked over at you. He shut down the motor again and neared you as you came down the steps to hold out the glass. He thanked you and took a big gulp before he handed it back.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything,” He said. “The other day. Sometimes… I say stuff without thinking.”

“It’s… whatever.” You shrugged and set the glass on the rail of the porch. “No hard feelings.”

“I just got a hot tub. Just gotta hook it up and it’s ready to go.” He said. “You should stop by later. Get a soak in.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You stood at the top of the steps. “I don’t wanna leave grandma all alone. She wants to watch Casablanca tonight. I promised we would.”

“Maybe another night.” He offered. “You work so hard. You deserve a break.”

“Maybe,” You said evasively as you turned and crossed the porch. You glanced back as you opened the door and he was still looking at you.

“Lemonade’s good.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

🏡

You finished lunch and left your grandmother to her puzzle at the dining room table. You went upstairs to change the shirt you’d spilled mustard down; it was all you could smell. You tore off your shirt and tossed it on the bed. You rounded the bed to the dresser that sat just below the window and opened the draw. Movement caught your eye and you looked up across the space between yards.

Andy’s eyes met yours through the windows. You’d never realised they were adjacent, let alone so easy to see through. He wore a towel around his waist, freshly showered and his gaze strayed for just a moment. You blanched and pulled out a shirt and covered yourself with it. He smirked and tilted his head. Then he winked and a shiver went through you.

You grabbed the curtain and closed it so forcefully you nearly bent the rod. You backed away and put the shirt on properly. Surely, he was being funny. A tense, awkward moment. What else could he do but make a joke? Well, it wasn’t a very good one.

🏡

You stayed inside for the better part of a week. Aside from your walks with your grandmother and a trip to the grocery store, you kept your curtains closed, and hid yourself away. Maybe you’d built it up in your mind but you were just set off-kilter by the wordless interaction. Since, you felt as though you’d been walking a tightrope, too afraid to look down.

But that night, your grandmother wanted to sit outside. It was warm and the nights were shorter; later. You wheeled her out, a book on her lap, and as you made to skirt back inside, he appeared. Andy had impeccable timing. It made you wonder if he was watching you; if he had been for much longer than you knew. Well, now you were just being paranoid.

“Hey,” He stood at the edge of the yard. “Beautiful night.”

“Sure is,” You grandma replied. “I’ve got a new book and I’m ready to enjoy the breeze.”

“Oh, a new book? What’s it about?” He asked as he neared tentatively.

“Another scary one.” She cracked the cover. “Or so I hear. Skinwalkers taking over a whole city.”

“Ah, spooky,” He commented and looked at you. “And you?”

“Writing. Inside.” You said evenly.

“I figured since it was so nice, I was finally gonna try out my new Jacuzzi,” He said. “I just… I did promise you a soak so I thought maybe--”

“Eh, I don’t know.” You neared the door. “I really should try to get some writing done.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Your grandmother intoned. “You’ve been on that computer all day. You should go, relax.”

“Really, I--”

“Laurie might join us. She’s inside doing some work.” He piped up. “She wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Go on! I’m getting sick of ya anyway,” Your grandmother snorted. “You could stand to loosen up.”

“Grandma,” You huffed.

“Go get changed,” She ordered and smiled at Andy. “She’ll be over shortly.”

You blinked and tried to hide your irritation. You went inside before Andy could notice and you stormed upstairs. You weren’t even sure you’d packed a suit. You searched through the dresser. The curtains were still drawn tight. You found your old pink bikini with the white flowers. Really? It had to be that one?

You changed, reluctantly. It couldn’t have covered less of you. You found a tee shirt and pulled it over. You descended the stairs again and stepped out on the porch.

“Thanks for that, grandma.” You scowled.

“I can see why you were never popular,” She laughed. “Go. Have fun. This old lady can handle herself.”

You stomped down the steps beside the ramp and stopped at the border of the yards. You sighed and went to the gate, it was open in expectation of you. You heard the whir of jets before you entered. Andy was just beside the hot tub, testing the temperature with his hand as you stood across from him. He looked up and gave a crooked smirk.

“Andy,” The back door opened and Laurie appeared. “Oh, hey.” She smiled at you before turning back to her husband. “I’m gonna pass. Gina’s not going to make it in tomorrow so looks like I’ll be up all night.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” Andy said. “More tub for us I guess.”

“Yes, love you too,” She said dryly. “You enjoy yourself. And don’t leave that thing on all night.”

“Yes, honey,” He said before she shut the door. “Love you.”

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry. Maybe you had been a bit presumptuous. Andy climbed into the jacuzzi and lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh. You hesitated to get closer but you did. He watched you, expectantly. You grabbed the edge and tried to will yourself in.

“You’re wearing that?” He nodded to your tee.

“Yeah,” You lifted your leg over the side.

“You don’t gotta be shy,” He grinned.

You paused and frowned at him.

“I’m joking,” He said. “The other day. That was… funny. Bad timing.”

“Mhmm,” You drew your other leg over and carefully sat.

“You met any more cute guys?” He asked suddenly. You squinted.

“What?” 

“Not much to do around here, you know? Pretty boring.”

“No. I don’t--” You sputtered. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Once my grandma’s better, I’ll be going.”

“Still, it’s lonely.” He said softly. 

“What do you care?” You asked, harsher than intended. 

He was quiet. He leaned back and looked over at the house then back to you. He exhaled and spread his arms over the edge.

“So… that toy you hide in your night table? You always use it or you ever just… feel yourself?”

Your heart sank. You felt as if you would choke on air. Had you imagined his words?

“What did you just--”

“Took you long enough to catch on,” He said. “Got a good view of you when I can’t sleep but… not anymore. Too bad.”

“Andy,” You stood and the water splashed around you. “You-- You’re-- Laurie, she--”

“I haven’t fucked her in months. This is what she does.” He sat forward and caught your hand. “She works. All the time. I try and she… just doesn’t want to.”

“Let me go.” You struggled with him. “You’re disgusting. You’re married!”

“Me? Fucking awful some young girl strolls into town and tries to seduce a married man? What would grandma think? And Laurie? She’s not one to sit back and be humiliated.” He tugged on you. “I have a reputation around here. You’re just a stranger, and apparently one, who fucks strangers.”

“What are you talking about?” You nearly slipped as he spun you back to him. “You’ve been watching me and--”

“I’m just a neighbour looking out for you,” He pulled even harder and your feet slid across the bottom of the jacuzzi, forcing you to catch yourself on him. “Like I do all my neighbours. They would confirm as much.”

“Get--” You grabbed his arm as it snaked around you. “Andy! Laurie--”

“Doesn’t give a fuck and if she came out, well, she’d only realise what’s she’s pushed me to.” 

You wriggled as he held you to him. He drew your leg over his so that you straddled his lap. You pushed on his chest and grunted.

“You keep it up and everyone will hear. Even sweet old nana.” He snarled. “I saw you looking at me that day… when you brought me lemonade.”

“No, no,” You rasped.

“I’m old, not that old,” He purred. “As you can obviously see.”

“Let me go. Please.” You begged. He was too strong and your arms only ached from pushing against him. “Andy--”

“Shhh,” He grabbed your chin with his wet hand and pulled you close until your lips almost met his. “In this town, rumours travel. It might be old news that you left a bar with that dumb kid but now, it’s evidence.” His hand slipped down your neck and squeezed. “Such a bad girl.”

“No one would--”

“They have no reason not to believe me,” He rolled up your wet shirt with his other hand. “Annie across the street, she likes gossip. She’s seen you flirting with me, at least that’s how she told it to Laurie but you know, my wife just laughs it off. And now she’s no doubt seen you come into my backyard in just this.” He pulled your shirt higher. “And her mind is going wild.”

“I can’t--”

“How long did he last? A minute? Less?” He snarled and his other hand slipped down to draw your shirt up. You kept your arms down as you tried to resist. “Bet you could wait to use your little toy.”

“Stop,” You pleaded.

“Get your arms up.” His voice was deep and dangerous. “And stop your whining.”

You stopped and stared at him. His blue eyes burned into yours and sent a shiver through you. His fingertips pinched your hips as they crawled under your shirt and he pushed it higher.

“You don’t shut up and someone will hear, sweetie,” He warned. “Up.”

He tugged until you raised your arms. A wave of bile rose in your chest and you let him peel away your wet shirt and reveal the skimpy bikini beneath. He dropped the cotton over the side of the tub and his hands grazed the triangles of your top.

“Cute,” He hummed. “You hiding this from me?”

You were quiet, sickened. With him, with yourself. You knew you couldn’t fight, wouldn’t. You remembered the barbecue and how you’d been the odd one out. Recalled how Andy had talked to almost every person there. Everyone loved him and no one knew you.

“Mmm mm mm,” His fingertips walked around your neck and he picked at the knot behind your neck. The straps loosened and he let your top fall and expose your chest. 

He bent to bury his face against you and nibbled along your tits. You looked, startled, to the back door. It was still shut. A light glow from a bedroom above and the distant beat of music escaped through the slightly opened bedroom window. Another light died on the first floor and was replaced by a second on the top floor, reflecting against yours on the other side. 

You quivered as Andy took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. You felt it in your core as his hand cupped your other tit. He reached beneath you and played with the edge of your bottom. He drew you back as he leaned against the side of the tub and lifted his pelvis, and you with him. He tugged on his shorts and sat back down.

You felt hollow and a cloud of panic filled your stomach. You struggled against you and he bit you. You squeaked as his teeth threatened to break the skin and stilled. He parted and looked up at you.

“Be a good girl,” He felt beneath you and began to stroke himself.

“Please--”

“Shhh,” He turned his hand and hooked his fingers in your bottoms, pulling them aside. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He rubbed his tip against your folds. “It’ll be good.” He drew you to him and angled you over his dick. “Better than ever before.”

He forced you down and your lips formed an o as he entered you. You latched onto his shoulders without thinking and he pushed you to his limit. His lips and teeth returned to your chest as he once more began to toy with you. You quivered as he began to rock your hips.

The water swished around you, swirling and slapping against your skin. You held your breath as you tried not to cry out. You hissed as you dug your nails into his shoulders and let him guide you. Despite yourself, despite everything, it felt good. It felt wonderful. He was right and you were weak.

“You like that?” He nuzzled your throat. “Is this what you think of at night, huh?”

You bit your lip as he kneaded your hips and kept your moving.

“I think of it all the time,” He muttered. “All the time. Maybe…” His breath caught and he groaned. “Maybe I could offer to take you grocery shopping, hmm? We could have some fun in the car…”

“Andy…” You whimpered. “No, we can’t-- not again…”

You grasped his wrists and tried to push yourself off of him. A semblance of sanity returned to you as you looked him in the face. His eyes were dilated and dusky. He was entranced; incorrigible. You struggled as he held you down.

“This is wrong--”

He shoved you off him as his lip curled. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the other side of the tub. The water splashed as he stood behind you and grabbed your arm. He turned you over and pushed you over the siding, a jet blowing against your pelvis.

“Doesn’t feel wrong to me.” He growled.

He held you down with a large hand between your shoulders as he pushed your legs apart with his knee. He pressed against you and searched for your entrance, swiftly impaling you. You choked down a mewl as your hips crashed into the wall of the tub. He leaned his weight on you entirely as he rutted into you without relent. You were certain someone would hear the clapping of flesh or the stir of water all around.

“You’ll do what I want, when I want,” He sneered. “And from what I can tell, you’ll like it.”

“Andy--” Your voice fizzled as the pressure mixed with the steady stream of the jet as it hit your cunt. 

You held in a moan as you hung over the side of the tub, the blood pounding in your head as you panted wildly. You covered your mouth, afraid you would cry out as the coil inside you twisted and twisted. Your legs quaked as you orgasmed.

Andy’s hand gripped your hips and he pulled you back against him, again and again, using your body easily. You slid back and forth over the side and he bent over you, crushing you against the tub. He growled in your ear and his thrust jolted your body.

He pulled out suddenly, still looming over you as he stroked himself against your bikini and pressed his damp beard to your cheek as he shuddered. His hot cum spilled out onto the wet fabric and dripped down your thigh as he eased himself through his climax. He sighed and pushed himself from atop you, falling back into the water heavily.

You stayed as you were for a moment. Stunned. Shakily you stood and fixed your top and pulled your bottom straight. You couldn’t look at him. You climbed out of the tub and walked unsteadily across the grass.

“Ah, that was relaxing,” He said. “Come back anytime.”

You ignored him and continued onto the gate.

“Oh, and it’s supposed to be a cool night,” He called after you. “You should keep your window open.”

You slipped through and the gate creaked behind you and closed with a metallic click. You shivered as you kept to the side of your grandma’s house and entered through the back. You didn’t want anyone to see; you were certain they would know if they did.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: A line not to be crossed

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) Deep in the Vergo cluster was the world of Hypress. A serene world of forests, exotic wildlife, and most importantly the central headquarters of the Zoomboian Trade Organization.

Unlike other trade conglomerates who have their headquarters on busy trade worlds filled with never ending streams of shuttles and ships transporting untold billions worth of cargo, the ZTO had placed their headquarters on one of the most remote locations in the galaxy. In fact it was well known that despite owning Hypress outright the only standing structure on the entire planet was the headquarters building itself and a nearby landing pad.

Some would consider this level of distance from major trading hubs and routes to be a hinderance but it was in fact a power move by the ZTO showing that they were so assured of their success that they did not need to be in the center of trade networks to know their investments were sound. This level of assurance and confidence was often enough to saw potential clients to go through the ZTO rather than other organizations, but for those requiring more they were often flown to the world itself to conduct their negotiations in person in the shadow of the ZTO's grandeur. Thus Hiplin found himself sitting across from his latest and possibly most important client. Markus Flint was the founder and current president of the outer rings mining guild. He was well built for a human which was unsurprising considering  having started out as a lowly miner himself. Markus had risen through the ranks and come to manage entire asteroid belt mining operations before breaking away to form the mining guild. His popularity among the laborers drew many miners to him until the guild was the only source of professional miners in the outer systems forcing mining companies to pay the guild to lease their members.

The ZTO had been trying for decades now to enter into the lucrative mineral trade but had been stone walled so to say by the mining companies seeking to keep their competitors at a minimum. It was only the creation of the mining guild that the ZTO decided to approach the matter from a different perspective.

If they could strike a deal with Mr. Flint then they would be partners with the sole source of skilled labor miners in the outer systems allowing them the leverage needed to pry the death grip the established mining companies had on the industry.

They had invited Mr. Flint to Hypress to negotiate just that and had sent their top negotiators Hiplin and Glom to facilitate the deal.

"Does the meal to your liking?" asked Hiplin.

"Aye," Markus began before cutting off a large piece of meat and biting into it, "if this were any fresher than I would think me self back on terra itself."

From the corner of his blackened eye Hiplin could see glom nodding. It had been his idea to procure the favored meat of humans called "steak". He had originally purchase an entire cargo hauler of the food for their chefs to practice on until they could cook it perfectly. A seemingly needless expenditure that now was bearing fruit.

"That is most satisfactory to hear."

Hiplin returned to his meal as well which was equally as carefully planned out as had been the accusation of the meat. Research had shown that humans are somewhat uncomfortable with alien features, such as his vertical mouth and oddly shaped teeth. Therefore his meal consisted of foods that would require him to chew longer before swallowing leading to fewer bites and fewer visual displays of his mouth opening to put the human at ease. Even the table itself had been hand picked for its circular nature giving all those present a feeling of equality.

Inwardly Hiplin had been frustrated with the level of subtext human culture had established over their few thousand years of existence that surpassed even the oldest species of the universe. Humans, though outwardly simple in nature, had developed a seemingly sixth sense to detect underlining messages that made them shrewd traders.

"I must say I was quite surprised to hear the all mighty Zoomboian's wanted to talk with me."

Hiplin looked from his meal to see Markus carefully examining his cup. "With all this wealth and power you have it's hard to believe what you would need me for."

As Hiplin was still chewing his food it was glom's que to speak. "We are not all money grubbers here you know, Mr. Flint." Glom put down his fork and pointed to himself. "I started out as nothing more than an accountant when I first joined the ZTO and I have never forgotten my origins in the back rows of my accounting hall."

Markus grunted and set the cup down and regarded Glom, his clear blue eyes sizing up the negotiator. "I can respect that as a made man myself, but even I don't own an entire planet."

"Yet." Hiplin finished chewing and chimed in while pointing his own fork at Markus. Not capable of producing a facial expression of a smile, it was deemed the motion would be the equivalent of the friendly expression.

Markus let out a loud deep laugh and slapped the table before raising his cup again. "I will drink to that!" He downed the contents in a single gulp before resting the cup down and swatting his stomach.

"I best step away before I make myself as big as a planet; lord knows I can't help myself when I'm around good food."

"Surely you jest." Hiplin said, putting down his own fork. "You appear no larger than any other of your species."

Markus raised and eyebrow and stood up from the table. "Are you joking? If I was any bigger  I would be hauled off to the slaughter house and sold as discount Sunday diner."

Hiplin did not reply as his mind raced. He was unsure if he should continue to compliment Mr. Flint or acknowledge his statement. His training dictated that he should never insult a clients appearance, but with humans the rules were never set in stone. If he continued complimenting him after such a statement he may suspect that his statements are needless flattery and think negatively; but if he confirmed Flint's statement he risked taking what was meant as humor and turning it into fact risking the possibility of anger.

While Hiplin continued debating internally it was Glom who spoke.

"If you were any bigger you would not be able to fit through the door rather than get all the way to the slaughter house."

Hiplin's eyes went wide at glom's remark and he shot a deathly stare at him which Glom met in turn and with a slight nod gestured for patience.

"This one gets it!"   Markus slapped the table again and laughed. "If me wife ever learned I couldn't fit through a door she'd starve me for weeks to make sure I could fit through grate!"

Markus continued laughing as Hiplin let out a deep sigh of relief. Glom was smirking as he had correctly guessed which tactic would most prevail against a human like Flint. After careful study Glom had determined that Mr. Flint was the human type to despise flattery and favored the simple direct approach in speech patterns.

 Hiplin stood himself now and gestured to the adjoining room. "Perhaps we can continue our negotiations now in more formal settings."

Markus nodded as Glom stood as well and the three made their way to the next room over. As they reached the doorway Glom turned to the still smiling flint and said "If your wife is as plum as you are than I am sure we can send you some larger doors when you return home."

The first sign something was wrong was when Hiplin noticed had stopped walking. Markus turned slowly and to Hiplin's surprise the previous smiling face was gone, now replaced with one of underlining hatred and anger.

"What did you just say about me wife?"

The words came slowly but were as sharp as diamonds.

Glom's own expression appeared surprised and worried so hiplin spoke to try and defuse the situation.

"What I believe my cohort meant to say was-"

"Was I talking to you!?" Markus rounded on Hiplin as a few droplets of spit sprayed from his mouth at the outburst.

Markus turned around again and walked towards glom. "I asked you, what did you just say about me wife?" He stabbed his finger into glom's chest with each syllable.

"I..I..What I meant to say was.." Glom was stammering now as his mind raced.

Markus was now standing in front of Glom and though he was only a few inches taller than Glom it felt as if he was towering over him now. Markus leaned down slightly so he was face to face.

"Did you just call me wife fat?"

Glom's mouth opened and closed several times while he looked toward Hiplin for help but nothing came.

Markus fixed Glom with his coldest stare yet and spoke slowly. "You don't eve'a talk about me wife."

Before Glom could respond Markus turned to Hiplin with disgust written all over his face. "We're done here." he said and then strode off to the exit with his boots beating heavily against the fine wood.

Glom and Hiplin panicked and quickly followed after Mr. flint.

"Mr flint, please accept my humblest apologies for my cohorts behavior." Hiplin spoke huffingly while trying to keep pace with Markus. "He is terrible with human customs of humor."

"Terribly so!" Glom chipped in now moving to the opposite side of Markus.

"You don't call a man's wife fat to 'is face and expect him to act like everything is fine an dandy!" Markus huffed loudly and pushed open the thick doors to the hallway leading to the landing pad. "You're lucky I don't have me mining hammer right now or else they'd be washing you out of the carpet for months!"

glom was about to say something when Hiplin grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned him to be quiet.

Before they knew it the group was on the landing pad with Markus making his way back to the mining guild's shuttle with the two negotiators in toe.

"Please!" Hiplin begged as Markus began ascending the boarding ramp, "Let us forget these last few minutes and resume our negotiations; it will greatly benefit us both in the end."

Markus turned and looked down at Hiplin with nothing but disgust across his face.

"I've seen ye true colors now and there ain't no way I or me guild would ever do business with the likes of you!"

With that he went up the boarding ramp and the shuttle ascending back into the stars leaving the two negotiators dumbstruck on where things had gone so wrong.

[moonchildsaurora]

Garden of Words

✤ prince/king!Yunho x tailor!reader ✤ genre: Prince AU // angst, fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, lots of bittersweetness, rated PG ✤ count: 3.5k+ ✤ [ part 2 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - look, when I was writing my plan out for this, my notes only centered around the garden scene. . .and here we are 3000+ words later hahahaaaaaa, this is what happens when the mind goes “what if” and gets invested in the before/after rather than just the now 😔 one day I’ll be able to write shorter, sweeter pieces but today isn’t the day. I’d like to whole-heartedly thank anyone who reads through this entire piece, for your time and hopefully it was worth it. Also I’ve decided to have a little bit of fun with subtly featuring other members in each others’ mini stories, so see if y’all can spot who the next character we’ll be visiting next! 💙 P.S. paragraphs in all italics are flashback scenes!

“Excuse me, are you the fae of the garden?”

The watering can of butterscotch shade in your hands tilted back to pause in the sprinkling of water droplets on the freshly bloomed red gardenias. Turning around, you found the source of the small tinkling voice.

“Good morning Young Prince,” you greeted him, setting the watering can down on a nearby bench before making your way over. Sunlight shone abundantly down on the Royal Glasshouse, some areas where the stained-glass windows stood were bathed in colourful hues. Where the light hit your peachy robe made of georgette-silk gave an ethereal glow to your figure.

The Young Prince looked at you with wonder as you bent down to his level before speaking to him again, “and how did you manage to find your way here, little one?” You recognised the mahogany velvet capelet that wrapped around his form; after all, just two weeks ago were you tirelessly hand-sewing those dainty pearls that left a trail of constellations across the velvet surface.

“Hmm…I followed the pretty blue butterflies!” the Young Prince excitedly pointed to where several of them were fluttering over the yellow hibiscuses. Of course he would, he is the King’s son after all and his smile was perfect proof of that too.

Your eyes soften and the sides of our lips tilted further up, “Well they definitely have led you to a special spot haven’t they?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” the Young Prince turned to look behind him quickly, as if to check if the coast was clear before taking a few shy steps closer to you. He brought up his little hands to cup them around his mouth and anticipating that he was going to whisper, you leaned in with a listening ear. 

“I’m not supposed to come here on my own but Father brings me here sometimes and always tells me that the flowers here are most happy because of the fae who cares for them. I wanted to meet the fae because they never are around when Father and I are here.”

With great effort you suppressed the giggles that threatened to spill out, not wanting the Young Prince to think that you were laughing at him but rather at how adorable of a pout he formed by the end of whispering his little secret to you.

“Who told you that you couldn’t come here by yourself?”

“Everyone says that this glasshouse is Father’s most favourite and no one should come in without him saying ok. Even Mother doesn’t come here.”

Now it was all starting to make more sense to you, trust him to give you a title like fae of the garden. Letting out a gentle sigh, you gave the Young Prince a reassuring smile and held out your pinky.

“I promise not to tell, if you don’t.”

His eyes sparkled immediately as his little pinky was quick to curl around yours, “Oh thank you great fae!”

The soft spot in your heart grew once more.

“Would you like to see what fresh blooms will greet us today, Young Prince?” 

The initial shyness he had melted away and the eager tug on your hands with a delighted laugh was a clear answer to your question. You let him lead you down the cobblestone pathway, patiently answering his questions whenever he’d point out flowers to you along the walk.  

“Ah! Father’s favourite flower!”

The both of you slowed to a stop where the sea of multi-coloured freesias clustered, like a protective circle, around the Juliet Rose bush. With glowing apricot coloured petals that looked tender to touch, the rose bush stood dignified in the middle. Oh, the amount of care and love that went in to growing these roses, it truly is the treasure of the Royal Glasshouse.

You could still feel the phantom prickles on your fingertips from when you’d accidentally catch on one of the thorns whilst pruning. But you also remembered the warm hands that used to encompass yours and those same hands fought many more thorns to build this piece of Eden just for you.   

“Shall we get some to give to him later on?” you suggested, having swiftly gone round the corner to retrieve the pruning knife from the crate.

“Yes, yes! Oh but won’t our shoes get muddy going in there?”

“Your Father didn’t mind losing many good white trousers to the dirt when he used to tend to the garden.”

“Father did that?” gasped the Young Prince, his eyes locked on as you moved with practiced ease. Still unsure as to whether he should risk a scolding from his tutor later on, he stayed behind the pebble border.

You hummed in reply, tip-toeing to avoid disturbing the freesias to reach the rose bush. “He drove the palace tailors mad with the amount of buttons he’d lose…but it was all worth it in the end.”

Your hands cupped one of the larger roses, observing the intricate layers of petals within the heart of the bloom. Just like the layers of memories that stirred within you in that moment.  

”Not again Your Highness!”

Shoving the tunic you had been sewing to fix up a rip at the seams to the side, you hurried over with a handkerchief towards the Crown Prince as he came out of the Royal Glasshouse. When he wasn’t attending his classes or royal duties, all free time was spent on the garden. The only rule was that no one but the Crown Prince was allowed inside.

“Blossom, we’ve talked about this. You know I’d prefer it if you used my name.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worrying about now! The Queen won’t be too thrilled to know that you–“

A snow white camellia was tucked behind your ear, distracting you to a pause. Your hand immediately reached up and your fingers were met with the morning dew still upon the petals.

“This is first of the few that have successfully bloomed.”

“You’re distracting me on purpose, Yunho!”

“Well it got you to say my name, did it not?” he laughed, crouching down slightly to allow you to help wipe some of the soil off his cheeks. Even as you continued to fret over his mess of a stained blouse that certainly will cause a ruckus over afternoon tea, Yunho looked at you with so much affection that it would’ve made the rest of the flowers blush.

“You are impossible,” with no real bite to your words.

“And yet you’ve stayed by me all this time.”

You weren’t just the child of the Queen’s personal seamstress, no, you were Yunho’s first real friend within the palace. He treasured the friendship, for being with you meant Jeong Yunho could breathe freely. 

The hallway had a woeful chill despite the midday sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Perhaps it was reflecting your current state of mind, your feet scurrying with haste to carry you to the safety of your chambers. Only behind closed doors did you allow your walls to crumble.

“It’s settled then, we shall entrust you with the task of creating the wedding gown. After all your sewing skills are immaculate and the Princess herself personally requested for you.”

Your mind kept replaying the announcement, echoes taunting the reality right in your face. Extremely confused at the absence of feeling on top of the world that you’ve been tasked with such a prestigious request nor were you jumping with joy knowing that Aethevintis and Cilon were officiating a strong alliance through a royal engagement.

“Every tailor in the kingdom would’ve killed for this job! Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself!”

The palace staff showered words of encouragement and your mother couldn’t be any prouder…

...yet it did nothing to ease the piercing cold emptiness that invaded your shattered heart.     

“Blossom that would be considered as assault against the Crown Prince.”

You threw an unamused look his way, right after you had nearly kneed Yunho in the face when he effortlessly hitched you over his shoulders. Without so much as giving you a valid explanation as to why he arrived unannounced at the tailors’ room, only to whisk you away from your half-sewn bodice.

“Some of us need to work, Yunho!”

“You’ve been working a fair bit lately, I simply miss spending time with you.”

Now that you have actually acknowledged your feelings towards him, you couldn’t afford to let such words feed the false hope; not when you knew there will be an inevitable split in your pathways. You had been purposely avoiding him since preparations for the Engagement Ball have started, under the guise that you needed complete focus on your commission. It numbed the hurt inside temporarily, but you couldn’t deny that you’ve missed him.

Terribly so.

“Where exactly are you taking us?”

Scrunching your nose slightly at the smell of hay and heavy worn leather upon entering the stables, you noticed the saddle was already on Yunho’s Friesian stallion. Had he planned this beforehand?

“On an adventure!”

Of course, Yunho may have forgotten to notify you that he was supposed to be at a council meeting at that moment instead of bolting out of the stables like your lives depended on it.

He needed to breathe again and you decided to run with him for once, rather than away. The faint shouts of his name could be heard in the distance but consequences be damned if it meant seeing his radiant smile be set free and feeling the steadiness of your entwined hands.

“Watch your step.”

For whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, that Yunho somehow managed to sneak away from his own Engagement Ball without getting noticed and now was guiding you through an alternate and poorly-lit route towards the garden. Had it not been for his insistence that this matter was of great importance, you would’ve dragged him back in to the Grand Hall yourself.

Not even daring to think about the implications of his future wife being left, having to wait inside and what should happen if any of the guests or palace staff saw you with the Crown Prince in this questionable state?

“I’ve already talked to Captain Song and requested for his guard unit to ensure this area is kept clear for tonight, so you needn’t worry.”

His warm hand that held onto yours gave a reassuring squeeze, dampening your anxiousness just a little. You ended up facing the entrance to the Royal Glasshouse, the window panes were crystal clear in the dark that you could see the stars that hung above in the night sky in the reflection. Admittedly this place hadn’t graced your mind in months and you immediately felt disappointment towards yourself for not checking in with Yunho over time about his progress.

As you were about to speak, your vision suddenly goes pitch black.

“Hope you don’t mind but it’s a surprise,” Yunho whispered softly and only then did you realise that those were his hands covering your eyes. Wordlessly you nodded and allowed him to lead you in, an array of floral scents hitting your senses almost immediately, indicating that you both have made it well in to the glasshouse.

Something brushed against the top of your head unexpectedly and you flinched back, hitting Yunho’s solid chest.

“It’s ok, it’s just the blue jade vines. I’ve got you.” You wished your heart would stop fluttering as you felt him shuffle around you.

“Had it been anything else, I would’ve been right out the door and never stepping foot in here again,” you murmured.

You heard Yunho’s low chuckling before, “And leave me behind? That’s harsh. Who would I ever share this with then?”

His hands lifted and you blinked a few times to settle the initial haziness. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view; there were lanterns both hanging from the roof and ones scattered around to illuminate the interior with a soft glow, fireflies danced about unbothered and even with the vast amount of plants it wasn’t a suffocating space.

Taking tentative steps to look at some of the flowers up close, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just when you thought Yunho couldn’t get any more incredible than he already is.

“Yunho, this is…you really did it! From which fairytale did you pull this garden out of? All of this is exquisitely stunning!” you said, gently running your hand over the pink and white baby’s breath bushes.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s barely keeping himself together under his calm façade. His heart has been yearning to just go against all odds and take you away with him but that meant condemning you to a lifetime of hardship, in a world where tradition doesn’t take too kindly to change.

He would never do that to you.

If he couldn’t be free to love you openly, then he’d love you in all the ways that required unspoken words. He poured his time and love into creating something, untouched by others and solely from himself, that he could give to you.

Just like he already has with his heart.

So when you heard him call your name, rather than the usual term of endearment he’d use, it set off the butterflies in your stomach. He reached out for you and you met him halfway.

“Did you know these are my favourites? They’re still young but as they grow, you’ll see that they aren’t just ordinary roses. They’re called Juliet Rose.”

Yunho showed you around the garden, telling you of the different flowers and their meanings. Peruvian lilies for lasting bonds, bluebells for devotion, gladiolus for strength, chrysanthemums for happiness, carnations for faithfulness. You were so caught up with keeping track that you nearly missed what Yunho had said next.

“–for an undying love or you’re the only one…”

“What...did you say?”

A barely-there whisper as you choked the words out. The running water from the mini fountain in the lily pad pond was the only sound among the silence that stretched between you both. And then there was the feeling of dread again, that you needed to run. Far away. Now. “W-We should go, th– your future fiancée is wait–“

You barely made it past 4 steps before Yunho caught your wrist and this time, he wasn’t going to let go. He called your name again.

“Please look at me.”

Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that got through to you, telling you that you’d deeply regret it if you were to leave. So you willed your heart to stay through the pain and to stay for Yunho. It wasn’t until you felt damp velvet against your cheeks that you realised it was from the tears that cascaded down from your eyes and soaked in to Yunho’s suit, for he held your shaking form close to him.

“I’m such a fool.”

“Well, I guess we’re both just fools very much in love then.”    

And then it dawned on you.

This entire garden being Yunho’s vow to you, which made you cry even harder than if he would’ve just confessed out loud to you right from the start. 

Your hands grasped onto his back, fisting the fabric as you buried yourself further in to him. Noting that he smelled of clementines on a cool breezy summer day, you ingrained that scent to your memory. Wishing upon all the stars above that time would stop and allow you both to just live in your little garden.

“And with your permission, could you allow this fool to be selfish for a while more?”

A light kiss to your forehead before your face was tilted up, sore tear-stained eyes meeting his matching ones. “You? Selfish? Impossible.” Keeping your voice soft, partially from not wanting to break the peaceful ambience as you clumsily wiped his tears away.

Yunho knows he already has been selfish especially with time, he can’t stop it but he can draw it out at least. And he’s selfish in wanting to take from you when he knows he cannot give back entirely. But if it’s once in this lifetime that he gets to have you before having to return to the cruel world of normality, then he will get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness for being selfish.

He pours out everything in to the searing kiss he places on your lips and whilst you never imagined your first kiss to be like this, at the very least you finally have closure. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks and warm hands that refused to part until the very last second. Words that you both have been meaning to tell each other over the years are woven into poetries.

The garden kept it all, kept your love safe and your hearts safer.

“Do they make you happy too?”

Just like that, you’re brought back to the present. “What gave it away little one?” you asked, glancing to smile at him before focusing on cutting off two large roses.

“You were making the same face at the roses as Father does when he’s happy…when he tells me about you and the garden,” replied the Young Prince with honesty. The blue butterflies from before came fluttering around the roses that you held in your hands, much like the ones that stirred inside you once more when you heard the words.

Some things never change, do they?

You started to take the thorns off the stems with the pruning knife before replying, “They do, and this is my happy place.” Once you deemed the stems were safe enough for the Young Prince to hold, you made your way back over to him. You knelt down and presented the roses to him, “What do you think?”

He cautiously took the flowers that dwarfed his small hands, peering in to the layers curiously and taking a whiff of the delicate scent. “They’re really pretty! I think Father will like them very much!”

“Shall we go look for a few more blooms? You can create your very own little bouquet.”

The Young Prince made little noises of excitement and rushed to hold on to your hand once more, continuing on the quest to pick more flowers. It wasn’t until awhile later when you were showing the Young Prince how to arrange the flowers he picked to tie them together, that you heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Father!”

If Yunho hadn’t already learnt how to harden his heart these past years, the scene before him would’ve surely made him cry with happiness. For a second he could pretend that this was real, that you were the one with the aquamarine diamond band around your finger and that he was coming to join his actual family for tea in the garden. His eyes never wavered from yours, even when his son came barrelling in to his legs waving his bouquet merrily in the air.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted with a formal bow, not missing how Yunho’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Father, I finally got to meet the great fae! We spent all morning finding these!”

Only when you subtly flicked your eyes down towards the child did Yunho respond, quickly reaching down to take the bouquet from his son’s outstretched hand and bringing him in for a hug too.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here, sneaking off from your tutor again,” amusement lacing Yunho’s tone, “and what an intriguing choice of flowers you’ve got there.”

Father and son both adorning mirrored grins on their faces, “they’re for you, do you like them? And I’m sorry for sneaking in here Father!” said the Young Prince, little brows furrowing slightly.

“Very much, thank you…the both of you. And it’s ok as long as skipping your lessons doesn’t become a habit,” said Yunho as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately and drew his gaze back to you.

“Unfortunately we must take our leave now.”

“How come? Do we really have to go?” The Young Prince seem to have inherit the puppy-dog eyes from his father, putting on the best pout he could muster as he looked between the two of you. Yunho shook his head, bending down to pick his son up. “Remember Grandpa and Grandma are coming by for lunch? Your Mother even asked the cooks to prepare our favourite dessert,” as if attempting to appease him.  

“But…I wanted to spend more time here!”

“You’re always welcome back here little one, if His Majesty is ok with that–”

“Of course, although I hope it won’t be too much trouble?”

You gave a gentle smile and eyes twinkling with mirth, “Considering he hasn’t lost more than two dozen buttons within the last two weeks nor requires daily stitch repairs, I’d say it won’t be too much trouble at all Your Majesty.” That drew out an apology and light laughter from Yunho.  

You walked the King and the Young Prince back to the entrance of the Royal Glasshouse, and just before stepping out Yunho turned to you once more. “Have you stopped by the pond recently?” the random query puzzled you.

“I thought I saw something interesting growing there the other day.”

Please go.

Right after waving a goodbye to Yunho and his son, without a care of making it obvious you hurried to where the lily pads floated at. It wasn’t hard to miss the bundles of serene blues nestled in the damp soil near edge of the pond. As you got closer, the realisation of what those were made your heart soar and ache at the same time.

A couple of tears fell onto the sea of blue petals as you reached out to cradle them with your hands.

“As if I could ever forget…my beloved King,” you whispered to the forget-me-nots that silently delivered Yunho’s words for you—

This garden is forever yours and so is my love, always. Never forget that.  

[x-winging-it]

Mini set rant

I want to preface this with the fact that I loved Shadow and Bone  - I’ve already binged it an am going to start my rewatch in the next few days. 

But... 

I thought it was kind of visually disappointing in a few places? The books are super visual and some of the scenes feel practically made for a visual medium like tv/film- and it was these scenes I felt really missed out. I get they were limited due to the situations of filming, but this is just my take on what I would have liked to see? (and hope they get more budget/freedom to do next series) 

First off the domed hall/ Grisha dining room

This is supposed to be the school for all grisha, the home base for the entire second army and it just felt... really small 

Now this doesn’t feel like an army 

along each side we can see 6, 7 and 4

Seems about 12-14 on each side making the capacity like 36-42 total plus the darkling. 

Compare it to say hogwarts in Harry potter (another school for magic small science users) 

Or to compare to another Netflix Property- The Witcher and Queen Calanthe’s feast hall 

The next location is the Grand palace. This place is supposed to be the embodiment of everything wrong with the Lantsov’s - a dynasty at its breaking point - so think like Winter Palace and the Romanov’s or Versailles and the French kings. 

A film I think really does the excess aesthetic really well is Disney’s Cinderella 2015 

Like look at how insane and over the top everything is 

Now I get not everyone has Disney budget, so look at what they did do. 

First the Throne room, here is the show’s version:

And here is the description in the book :

as we moved through a spacious entryhall into a long corridor lined with mirrors and ornamented in gold I thought how different this place was from the Little Palace. Everywhere I looked I saw marble and gold, soaring walls of white and palest blue, gleaming chandaliers, liveried footmen, polished parquet floors laid out in elaborate geometric designs. It wasn't without beauty but there was something exhausting about the extravagance of it all... as we walked by a tree of jade embellished with diamond leaves... the throne room was three stories high, every window sparkling with gold double eagles. A long pale blue carpet ran the length of the room, where the members of the court milled about the raised throne.... (shadow and bone ch7) 

First off the lack of pale blue - like it’s a basic thing 

Second it seems quite subdued. Like the grand-palace is supposed to be gaudy and rococoo and mad- like the royal family

The Lantsov’s are very heavily based on the Romanov’s so for reference here is the ‘small’ throne room in the Winter Palace, St Petersburgh

and here is the Grand throne room (also called the Apollo room) 

It just seems kinda plain here. 

Finally we have the winter Fete- now for some reason it’s been moved to just take place in the Little Palace- when it is described in the books as this 

'music floated down the marble hallways, the air felt curiously warm  and was perfumed with the scent of thousand of white flowers grown in grisha hothouses. They covered tables and trailed down balaustrades in thick clusters... the ballroom was larger and grander than even the throne room had been. Lit by row after row of sparkling chandeliers and full of masses of people drinking and dancing to the sounds of a masked orchestra seated along the far wall...the crystals dripping from the chandeliers even the floor beneath our feet seemed to sparkle...

'until we made our way behind the stage that had been set up along the far wall of the ballroom... to introduce the grisha. the orchestra struck a dramatic chords and the guests were soon gasping as the inferni sent archs of flames shooting over the crowd and squallers sent spires of glitter whirling about the room. They were joined by a large group of tidemakers who with the squallers help bought a massive wave crashing over the balcony to hover inches about the audience's heads. I saw hands reach up to touch the shining sheet of water. Then the inferni raised their hands and with a hiss the water disappeared into a swirling mass of mist.  hidden by the side of the stage, I had a sudden inspiration and sent light cascading through the mist , creating a rainbow that shimmered briefly in the air... and he led me to base of the steps at the base of the platform... the queen surrounded by her ladies looking bored...

Do you get my point about how visual this is?

Now if we want a ballroom you could go for something like this:

(great gallery at Schonbrunn palace- not too far from Budapest in Vienna, Austria ) 

If you want a theatre you can go for this: 

The Hungarian state Opera House

Instead we go for a stripped back performance in the Little Palace instead- whatever fine 

It looks like this: 

 Which is quite nice- except it looks more ornate than the Grand Palace 

The Queen even has a line in the show about how quaint it is supposed to be- yet it outshines her palace. The Darkling and the Royal Family approach power in fundamentally different ways, and it makes no thematic sense for his palace to be more elaborate than theirs. 

Finally the actual display... 

Is it just me or did this whole thing feel kind of cramped? - especially when the Inferni were performing (they literally looked like they were standing on chairs 

Again - this is a nitpick- but I do love the visual elements of the books and just feel like some of the themes get a bit lost with these slightly odd changes 

[crystalessenceswrites]

Burden of the Survivors- Chapter Two

Burden of the Survivors

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence *no spoilers- takes place in Season 1 timeline* Summary: Mando works alone- except for when the absolutely can’t. There are few people Din trusts – trusts as in he doesn’t expect a viroblade in the back the second he’s turned around. She’s one of them. Just as cautious and nearly as tight lipped about her past as he is, Din doesn’t mind her around too much. A/N: My inspiration is a fickle thing, I’ve been swinging back and forth between Shadows and BotS for a few weeks now. Finally got enough to sit down and finish this chapter, so cheers to that.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] Cross-posted to AO3

Chapter Two

When Vero found you, you were nothing but a pickpocket on the lower-level streets of Coruscant-the byproduct of the horrors of the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire. You were nearing sixteen and beginning to lose your touch. When you were younger-and smaller-it was easier to weave through crowds and avoid attention. Puberty and a growth spurt made it much more difficult for the teenage you to blend in. You made it work, you had to if you wanted to get by, but it took twice as much work to get folks to look the other way. Ever observant Vero caught on quick but said you had potential, just not as a street thief. The alabaster skinned theelin approached you with a job, a job that paid more than you could scrounge up in two weeks selling your stolen treasures. All you had to do was deliver a small parcel to a pilot friend of his at a docking station a few levels up without getting caught by the city guard before the pilot was scheduled to leave in two hours. It seemed easy enough and you desperately needed the credits. The last thing on your mind was what was in the package you carried. You knew better than to stick your nose where it did not belong, especially when you were getting paid. That decision changed your life.

The job was a test to see if you were capable and trustworthy enough to bring on for a real job as a runner, and you passed with flying colors. Vero took you under his wing and had you running smuggled goods and other products all over Coruscant. It was a reckless job, you knew that-even as a child-but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly at a time in your life when you had forgotten what that was like. You were one of many street kids on Coruscant that had to turn to life in the underworld to get by, but you thank the Maker you ended up with the one crew on Coruscant that had some small sense of morals.

Vero worked for Shan Tillis, who had grown up on the streets of Corellia himself. Shan was sympathetic, smuggling had been his way out of the gutter, and he offered you that same opportunity. It had not taken long for Shan and the others to realize you were too smart and too quick on your feet to just move goods, that you and your brain could be used elsewhere. So, they taught you. Kom and Redarr, Shan’s lead muscle heads, taught you how to fight and how to fight dirty. Sola bought you your first proper viroblade (you’d nicked one years ago but it was made for hands much larger than yours so you’d always been rather clumsy with it) and taught you every trick in the book she knew, every weak spot on the body, how to wound but not kill and where to bleed someone out the fastest. Her lessons were always your favorite. Tala taught you how to pilot every kind of ship you could get your hands on, and how to hotwire a landspeeder- Vero was not thrilled when he discovered that lesson had been performed on his precious baby.

Everything that made you into the infamous bounty hunter you were now had been taught to you by that crew. Every cautious tick had been drilled into you by Kom and Vero. Redarr had schooled you on blasters, made you practice in-between jobs on how to take them apart and put them back together with your eyes closed. Zena taught you how to read people and how to know when a deal was about to go south.

Shan imparted you with the most practical wisdom of them all. How to know when you’re fucked.

This job seems pretty fucked to you.

The Mandalorian is silent as the two of you settle on the ridge above the compound. Scope out, he looks over the cluster of buildings. Even from a distance you’ve already counted ten nikto out and about, and you can safely assume they’re all heavily armed.

You tighten the various straps and holsters on your person before slipping your tactical mask into place. The contraption covers the lower half of your face and has always been more for the intimidation factor than much else. Redarr had gifted it to you all those years ago as more of joke than practical gear but you’d grown attached. Between the mask and its voice modulator, your hood and dark, nondescript clothes you could remained relatively anonymous when you wanted to, which was most of the time.

“If we come along the east side I think I can make it up to the roof without being seen, provide you with a little more cover.” You did always prefer the higher ground.

Mando nods, continuing to scan the scene, “there’s two on the northwest corner you’ll have to manage.”

Your scoff crackles through the modulator, “they won’t be an issue.”

He grunts before his head snaps back towards the edge of the compound, “shit. Bounty droid.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whip out your own scope, focusing in on where Mando was watching. Sure enough, you spot an IG unit bounty droid making its way up to the group of nikto lingering outside.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”

You roll your eyes as the shooting starts. Droids had to have figured out by now it was never that easy. If it was, anyone with a blaster could join the guild.

The droid has a handle on the gunfight, but you groan as you watch the compound go into lockdown, all the blast doors slam shut before the last shot is fired.

“Droids.” Mando snaps as he stands, one hand clenched around the hilt of a blaster.

You jump up, following behind him. Again, with the acting first, thinking second.

As you approach the encampment Mando jerks his head up, “you take the topside.”

“Gladly.”

You scramble up the side of the building with relative ease, there are plenty of odd pipes and vents that make convenient grips as you haul yourself and up over the lip of the roof. When the droid had ruined any chance at a surprise attack, you’d lost sight of the two guards on the roof. You keep your rifle aimed in their last known direction as you settle onto your stomach, ready to cover Mando as needed.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset,” the droid repeats.

Maker they really have no learning curve.

“IG unit! Stand down!”

The bounty droid has split second reaction times, shooting at what you can safely assume is Mando when he groans from somewhere down below and out of view. “We’re in the Guild!”

“So I suggest you stand down before you take a bolt to the brains, droid.”

Your quip draws the droid’s attention to your vantage point on the roof.

“You are Guild members? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us,” Mando grumbles. “So much for the element of surprise.”

That was a kriffing understatement.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.”

“This is true.”

You have to restrain your eye rolling to keep monitoring the roofline.

“I have a suggestion.”

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

How many people was he going to offer to share your credits with? This was beginning to get out of hand.

“This is acceptable.”

Well considering how much Mando hated droid he at least knew how to manage them considerably well.

“Great. Now let’s regroup, out of harm’s way, and form a plan.”

You were sorely doubting that the droid was capable of forming a decent plan or following whatever you and Mando came up with, but it was worth a shot considering the situation had become even more fucked thanks to him.

“I will of course receive the reputation merits associated with the mission.”

“Is this really the time?” You shout down at the pair.

Mando seems to have the same idea, “can we talk about this later?”

“I require an answer if I am to proceed-”

An orange head pops into view on the roof across from you, “we’ve got company!”

The nikto takes a shot at the droid, “oh, no. Alert. Alert. Alert.”

Whole lot of help this one was. You land a headshot just as the doors of the compound slide open, more soldiers swarming out, blasters drawn.

“Let’s go!” Mando dives for cover and the droid follows after.

Your spot affords you a decent line of sight into the courtyard but there’s more of them then you thought there would be out in the middle of nowhere guarding who knows what you were after. It takes you picking off three of them before they realize you’re shooting at them from above. There’s a flurry of shouting and pointing in your direction and Mando makes a run for the main set of blast doors at the back of the courtyard. You were going to have friends on the roof soon. Lucky you.

Rolling back you jump to your feet, taking a couple pot shots into the courtyard as you make for the far end of the roof. The droid is a decent shot, covering Mando’s mad dash while you focus on the nikto popping up across the roof. One hauls himself over the edge to your left, making a swipe at yours leg with his blaster. The loud crunch of your boot to his skull cuts through the blaster fire around you as the body falls into courtyard. Gross. Two more appear out of thin air, their shots barely missing your head. Losing your blaster you duck and roll, knocking both over as you draw a viroblade from your thigh holster. Neither have time to react before you’re on them, each taking one clean slice to the neck.

Mando and the IG unit have made it to the main door as you duck behind some ventilation equipment at the northwest corner of the building. You appear to have control of the roof for now, but you can see the soldiers in the courtyard beginning to regroup. They have Mando and the bounty droid pinned. Shit. You can hear Mando’s modulated shouts from below but you can’t quite make out what he’s going on about. Hopefully he’s chewing out the dumbass droid who go you into this mess.

The IG unit steps out again, laying out a spread of blaster fire that doesn’t seem to do much. The nikto have plenty of coverage behind debris and the series of pillars lining the courtyard. Their numbers also seem to be steadily growing. Just how many of them were set up out here? Who needed this many bodyguards? It was nearly a small army. The IG unit cannot keep up with the incoming blaster fire, even with your help from above.

Your stomach drops as you catch sight of another incoming nikto on a hover blaster at the encampment entrance. You were all fucked. All you can do is hope Mando’s found good cover down there as you drop to your stomach, bracing behind the ventilation unit. The nikto lets it rip, covering the area with a spray of bolts. Most sound like they’re striking below you, focused on where you assume Mando and the droid are hiding.

Then as suddenly as it started the gun stops. Poking your head out you watch as the nikto is flung backwards and Mando yanks the blaster to him. You thank the Maker for whatever good fortune he earned for that to work. It takes only moments for Mando to swing the blaster around and mow down the rest of the small army.

“Well done,” the IG unit cuts through the eerie silence following the blaster fire. “I will disengage self-destruct initiative.”

“Wait, you guys can self-destruct?” Seemed a bit counterintuitive.

Mando’s visor snaps to where you’re hanging over the edge of the roof, looking for a spot to climb down. He wordlessly offers you a hand and you toss your pack and blaster down to him. Its not too high up so you simply ease over the edge and drop to the ground, ignoring the harsh jolt to your knees.

“Manufactures protocol dictates I cannot be captured; thus I have a self-destruct initiative.”

So the droid could have killed you all if had deemed the situation too risky. Great. You’re glad you hadn’t been aware of that during the shootout.

Mando helps the droid back to its feet. “You know, you’re not so bad. For a droid.”

Had hell frozen over? Mando was as droid adverse as they got, and now he was complimenting one? The universe must be ending.

“Agreed.”

“That blaster hit looks nasty. You okay?”

“Running a quick diagnostic… it has missed my central wiring harness.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”

Mando glances back to you, “good?”

“Never better,” you grin. This could have gone significantly worse, so you had no room to complain at the moment.

“Well, now we just need to get the door open.”

The way Mando’s helmet whips back to the large blaster makes you groan. There were easier, less messy ways to go about things. You don’t attempt to talk the hunter out of it, he most likely wouldn’t listen to you anyways. It almost looks like he has fun shooting out the blast door until in collapses inwards.

You all take tentative steps inside the compound. One head appears around a far corner to the right. Mando’s quick draw has him downed before anyone blinks. “Anyone else?”

As if any survivors were going to offer themselves up to be shot.

“I’ll clear the west side,” you offer and Mando nods before heading off with the bounty droid in the opposite direction.

An unnerving silence settles over you as you stalk down the halls of the mysterious compound. The small army camped here had been prepared and well supplied. There are crates upon crates of food stuffs, weapons and ammunition. Some places are nearly packed floor to ceiling with it. What exactly was going on out here? How did they get all this out here in the middle of nowhere?

You worry your necklace pendant with one hand, an unconscious gesture you have yet to train yourself out of. Something was not right about this job, or at least more than normal. Over the years your own morals had morphed to accommodate your line of work. You worked for the guild and were often paid by unsavory individuals, but that was what you did to survive, and you refused to let that get to you. This however was picking at an old wound, long forgotten.

Another shot echoes through the compound and you find yourself racing back towards Mando and the droid, blaster held at the ready. Swinging around a corner you find Mando standing over a small floating pod, the bounty droid smoking out of its “head” on the floor. Maybe he didn’t want to split the bounty after all.

“Mando?” Your voice seems to cut through whatever trance the hunter was under, head snapping back towards you. “What happened?”

His shoulders drop, the tension seeming to fall away at your appearance. “He was going to kill the bounty.”

“I thought you said the client specified they wanted it alive if at all possible.”

Mando nods, “they did say that.”

That gnawing sense of dreads returns. Stepping up next to Mando you glance down into the pod-which appears to be functioning as some kind of traveling pram-and are greeted with wide dark eyes and pointy green ears.

Oh Maker no…

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 2 part 2

I brought the adventurers back to the cottage. This was the group that had been in the dungeon since last week—and they seemed to have run afoul of one of its denizens. I’ll admit I was excited—I haven’t given up on my dreams of adventure, and I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask. I thought it might be tactful, though, to wait until we weren’t in the midst of a medical issue before grilling them.

The one with the issue was the smallest of the party, and given the what she was wearing looked to be a witch herself (I noted wryly that we as a group did seem to have a distinctive style of dress). I got her to remove her hands from her face so I could assess the problem. She revealed that her nose had three large warts, all an unusual violet color. This, I’d actually seen before—it’s called Toad Nose (aka Witch’s Nose, though thankfully that pejorative name has fallen out of fashion), and it’s extremely common. In addition to causing visible warts, it can affect the mood of the patient, making them irritable and low-energy. I knew off the top of my head what I could use to cure it. I actually already had some potentially useful reagents at the cottage (the songberry, the princess toad droppings, and the vampire venom would all work for the mood aspect of the ailment), but I wanted to save them for emergencies if I could. Since I had to go foraging for something to help with the warts, anyway, I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to pick up something extra while I was out.

I had Ailean hop up onto my shoulder and told the group I would be back as soon as I could. The largest one, the clear muscle of the group, asked where I was going, and I told him I had to collect the ingredients for the potion. He asked why I didn’t have them around the cottage and I said I’d only just moved in and hadn’t had time to build up much of a stock yet.

For whatever reason, he didn’t seem to believe me. He stood and got very close and asked how they knew I wasn’t working for the Queen of the Strange. Both of the other adventurers told him to back off, but he stayed where he was.

I told him first of all that I didn’t even know who the Queen of the Strange was, and secondly if I was working for an enemy of theirs I would have left them where they were, helpless in the middle of a dungeon. Then I fired back, asking why as an adventuring party they didn’t have a healing member.

The third party member, the one in the black cloak who looked like she’d be good at sneaking around, admitted that their fourth party member had left the party, citing responsibilities in her hometown to tend. Having met these three, I couldn’t blame her. Then, the one in the black cloak stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time, before turning to the others and saying that she believed me, I was actually going to go look for potion ingredients.

The big guy announced that he was coming with me but I said absolutely not. I didn’t need a seven-foot asshole stomping after me, trampling the plants and scaring the animals that might cure his friend. He said I seemed awfully defensive for someone with nothing to hide. I said he seemed awfully paranoid for someone who came to me for help.

He didn’t have a response to that. I told them to sit tight and that I’d be back as soon as possible.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I headed to Meltwater Loch first, remembering to bring a pair of wool gloves. There’s a species of frog known as smooth-croak that’s abundant there whose mucus helps with warts. Skin-to-skin contact is best avoided, though—while it does feel lovely and makes your skin very smooth, it’s rather painful for the frog.

Finding a smooth-croak was easy (as I mentioned above, they’re everywhere at the loch), and I was able to get enough of its slime on the gloves for the potion. It and Ailean were croaking back and forth the entire time—I assume she was comforting it, assuring it I wouldn’t hurt it. As I was folding up the gloves and putting them in my basket, though, something caught my eye. A bit deeper into the loch, there was a cluster of ancient planks floating on the surface of the water. Below them, there appeared to be a half-buried crate.

I waded into the shallows to get a closer look, and found it wasn’t a crate—it was a chest. It wasn’t buried at all, either. Instead there was a nearly-whole skeleton wrapped around it. The skull laid on top, as if whoever it used to be died while resting their cheek atop their possessions.

Now, while I’ve made a habit of saying ‘yes’ to things that clearly present themselves since I’ve gotten here, I hesitated with this one. It occurred to me that it had clearly been here for a long time, and at the same time it was easily visible from close to shore—where people would have come wading frequently. So, why had no one gone and retrieved it before me?

My gut told me to leave well enough alone and that’s exactly what I did. Maybe I’ll ask Evander about it and come back to it in the future.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I went to Moonbreaker Mountain next, this time looking to climb nearly to the summit. To help with the mood portion of the ailment, I was hoping to bottle a goat’s echo. That’s not the name of a plant—I was looking for a literal echo. It’s a magic thing; it’s difficult to explain. Don’t worry about it.

As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m not in the best of shape. By the time I made it to the top of the mountain, I was wheezing. I sat down on a boulder near a larger outcropping, and once my heart was no longer pounding in my ears I began to hear a bleating from the other side.

I hurried around, only to find not a goat but a sheep on the other side. I sighed and went to continue looking, only to find it following me. I asked what it wanted, and it trotted over to the far side of the mountaintop and bleated again. I followed it and looked down the side. At the bottom was what looked to be a small farm, with an isolated house, two fields, and a few other buildings scattered around.

I asked it if it was lost, and took its body language to mean yes. I told it I was sorry, but I had a patient to heal and I didn’t have time to guide it down the mountain. I told it I’d send someone up to help it as soon as I could, but that I had to keep moving.

A little while later, I did find a goat. It was walking along a sheer cliff face, slowly making its way up. They’re notoriously skittish creatures, so I stayed low and tried to make as little noise as possible, waiting for it to cry so I could catch its echo.

Before I got the chance, a great snapping of wood and clattering of rock sounded behind me, startling me and scaring the goat into bounding up the cliff face and out of sight. I cursed and strode over to investigate what had ruined my plan. I found none other than the big guy from the adventuring party, fallen over on his ass and trying to scramble out of sight.

I, of course, asked him what in the fuck he thought he was doing. He said he was just making sure I was safe as I collected what I needed. I reminded him that I didn’t need his protection, and that as a matter of fact he’d just scared one of the ingredients away. I told him to go back to the cottage and wait like I told him.

He said he just thought the timing was kind of funny, how his friend had been cursed and they’d run into the one person who could help immediately. I told him he could think whatever he wanted, but unless he wanted the warts to spread over his friend’s entire body until she was unrecognizable, he’d stop getting in my way. That’s not something that Toad Nose actually does—as the name implies, it’s limited to the nasal region—but I was tired of his bullshit and needed him out of my hair. It worked, and he sheepishly made his way back down the mountain.

I immediately returned to the lost sheep and said I’d help it find its way home.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

It took about a half hour and a lot of soothing words to coax the sheep down the other side, and by the time we made it to the farmhouse the owner was outside waiting for us. She introduced herself as Ainsley Tennant, and I told her my name in return. She thanked me for bringing the sheep back and asked if I was the new witch in Greenmoor. I nodded, and she said she could tell from the clothes (this left me a bit miffed, as I thought I was wearing a rather sensible ensemble today). She said I was a worthy successor to the title. When I asked how she knew, she told me that the sheep I’d returned was named Senga, and that it had belonged to my predecessor—not as livestock, but as a pet. She said it was typically very skittish and wary of people, and that it had trusted me immediately was a good sign.

It took me a moment to process this. My predecessor had been painted as a loner by the information the townsfolk had given me. I suppose I had just assumed she was cold and antisocial—not nearly the kind of person who’d keep pets, especially not such nontraditional ones. It made me all the more curious about who she was, what she was like when she lived here, and what might have caused her to disappear.

I was curious about Ainsley, too. I asked her why she lived on the other side of the mountain from Greenmor, instead of with the others in town. She said that—like my predecessor—she wasn’t much of a people person, and that by the time she’d arrived in Greenmoor the need for livestock and crops had been met by the families already living there. Rather than try to fill a niche she didn’t have a passion for, Ainsley decided to be entirely self-sufficient. She said complete independence from anybody else was a short-lived pipe dream, but that she was proud of how much she was able to rely on herself for food and shelter in the end—though she mentioned it had been a bit lonely since my predecessor had disappeared, as she was the only person from town Ainsley had any kind of social relationship with.

I was curious to learn more about my predecessor, so I said I might be able to come around and visit every once in a while. She said I would always be welcome. Then, I said I had to get back to treat a patient. She thanked me again for guiding Senga back and gave me a bit of honey—to sweeten the potion, she told me. Then she sent me on my way.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

As it was getting dark by the time I made it back over the mountain, I decided to suck it up and use one of my stored ingredients for the potion rather than spend any more time searching for a new one. So, I headed straight back to the cottage. I could hear the adventuring party bickering loudly as I approached. I steeled myself and opened the door.

They didn’t even acknowledge me, so I didn’t interrupt them.

I wasn’t paying too close attention, but the other two seemed to be angry at the big guy for following me—not because I had told him not to, but because it left only one of them in fighting shape in the case of some potential ambush. I decided if I never saw these people again after today I would be happy.

I decided before I even started brewing to call the potion Toad Turd Tonic, after one of its active ingredients. I figured it would make for a nice gross-out if any of these jackasses thought to ask what it was. Here is how I made it:

First, I built a fire and put the cauldron over it.

I put my mucus-soaked glove into the water, so that the slime could leach out as it heated up.

As I waited for the water to boil, I crushed the princess toad droppings I got from Glimmerwood Grove into a fine powder.

Once the mucus-water reached a rolling boil, I removed the glove with a poker and added the powdered droppings and Ainsley’s honey.

I stirred it briskly until it all combined into a uniform green concoction.

The final product was slightly thicker than water, but still poured fairly easily. Wordlessly, I thrust a cup of it at the afflicted adventurer, finally interrupting the group’s yammering. As soon as she’d downed it, the warts simply popped off of her nose and onto the floor. It did not occur to any of them to pick the warts up—they left them there for me to deal with.

The big guy was eager to leave and went outside as soon as his friend was cured. I was no longer eager to ask these three anything about adventuring, but there was one thing I was curious about. I asked the newly-cured patient why she couldn’t heal herself—she was clearly a witch. She said her training wasn’t in healing, but rather in illusion magic.

Of course it was. The worst magical vocation.

Then on that subject, the one with the black cloak said they were in need of a healing party member, and had the nerve to ask me to join their party. For any other group, I might have considered it. But to her I said that I had too many responsibilities in Greenmoor to just leave, and that I didn’t think I fit in with the group dynamic anyway. Thankfully, she didn’t press the matter and instead handed me my payment.

As they left, the big guy suddenly turned, trotted back to the doorway and said: “I just realized we never got your name.”

“What a shame,” I said, and shut the door in his face.

⇦●〇●⇨

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The Plan.”

Getting excited for tomorrow. I have had this idea for a while and am pleased to be able to execute it. Building up to something good :)

Dr. Krill, Adam, and Dr. Katie stood in the low ceilinged Vrul council chamber at the center of the city. The entire room was as Adam had remembered it, with large glass windows looking out at all 360 degrees of the city. At one point he had assumed it was just the selfish desire of the ruling class to look down on the citizens, but as he looked, he could now see that there was some utility to the tower, almost a watch tower over the city. The canals and structure of the city itself could be sectioned off if there was ever an emergency, cut like a pie into triangular sections that could be excluded from the force shield if it was ever needed. 

As soon as their historian had put forward her hypothesis, the Vrul council had been called to order, and a few other GA members were now sitting in on the meeting remotely. They would have come themselves, but upon hearing about the horrible creatures that were, even now, clawing at their walls, the council had ordered the shield sup for what must have been the first time in millennia.

Luckily for them, they had never let the shields fall into disrepair, and as he looked out the window he could see the shimmering blue purple nexus of power glistening in the sky above them.

It worried him thinking that the ancient Vrul had deemed it necessary to have a force field that went into the sky as well. Dr. Kell had had a ruptured helium sack when they brought him in, but that gave the assumption that, perhaps, he would still have been able to float in his infected state, which was not something that bare thinking about, though it WAS an important item to consider.

“Yes, all the evidence does seem to point to that.” The counselor said, their head turned towards the GA chairwoman as they spoke, “We have contacted the other cities along the central line and they report their cities are built in much the same way. Satellite imaging shows clusters of…. The nesting sights all over the world, though their greatest cluster happens to be around our city. If each circle has approximately seven of the creatures burrowed below it, we estimate about 49,000 of the creatures possibly burrowed below our landscape. The animals in the area seem to know to steer clear of the nesting sites. The larger animals have moved in great migrations towards the poles where there are few of the nesting sites, and the animals who have a lighter step are prone to avoiding the circle when they can. Zoomed in pictures DO show the occasional skeletalized remains of some creature or another, but it is hard to tell what they died from.

The GA chairwoman was nodding, “So you believe that the cities were built for a different reason than originally thought.”

There was a pause and then the council nodded, “Yes, it seems likely that Vrul lived in open cities before the outbreak began and then built the city in defense against the creatures. The Deltas, we have found are the main spreading vector, since they are stronger and faster, they are more mobile, but the disease affects everyone similarly causing acute aggression and infected pustules filled with sores that rupture and spread a cloud into the air.”

Dr. Krill stepped forward just then to cut into the conversation, “Dr. Katie and I have examined the infection under controlled conditions, and it is clearly a disease that originated on this planet. It does not have the structures you would assume from a viral or bacterial infection common on worlds where the creatures are more animal than plant. In this case the subject does seem primarily interested in infecting our species. The disease is transmissible primarily through respiration where the spores enter the body and into the lungs, as it were, where they are dissolved and the toxin spreads directly through to the brain. It will then destroy most of the decision making and memory centers of the cortex, amp up aggression, and then start germinating more spores in those packets that we have seen.”

“So it isn’t contagious to other species.” The Chair woman asked 

Krill shook his head, “I did not say that.  While it is a disease that is meant for plant-like liforms, any creature with lungs similar to ours are also under direct fire of infection. Humans for example send blood directly to their brain from the lungs, and have cortical centers that are generally analogous to our own. Of course, humans have the blood brain barrier that would be much less likely to allow that to happen, so I don’t see a mental breakdown as part of its affect on humans, but I do imagine they could develop sores that could burst and be contagious.”

“I see, than what is your plan?”

Another of the council members took the moment to step forward, “Clearly we restrict movement outside the city. It worked for us for four thousand years and it shall work for the next four thousand years.”

There was a murmur of agreement around them before.

“You’re not fucking serious.”

There was a pause as the entire council chamber turned to look at him, Admiral vir standing just before the window and staring down at the city.

The human looked on in absolute consternation.

“Do you have a problem with that, human.”

Admiral Vir drew himself up, “Damn straight I have a problem with that. You have an opportunity to take your planet back. You have all the weapons and all the allies in the galaxy and you won’t even fight for your own planet. Living in your air tight cities and using it as an excuse to bring down even greater restrictions on a group of people who have never known any sort of freedom before.”

“Watch your ton-” “No, I am not one of your citizens, and I won’t be silenced for my opinion. At the end of the day it IS your decision, but you have to understand. The Vrul home planet is one of the greatest sources we have of natural gas and yet Vrul economic power is at an all time low, and that is because the group of you wont leave your cities to harvest it. Now we learn that there is a reason, a stoppable reason, and you just want to sit here and do nothing about it always watched by the fear of what if something happens, what if one of them gets in somehow, what if the strain changes, what if what if what if.” He looked around the room, “not to mention that if you took control of these things, you would be able to expand your cities, which would mean no more termination orders for those who are deemed, by the government mind you, to be useless.” he gave a very pointed look at Krill, “You would have had the doctor dead if it wasn’t for my intervention, and then as soon as something went wrong you called him back. I think that is a perfect example on how this system just isn’t working.”

The Vrul council stared at him, and it was pretty clear that they weren’t a fan of the words coming out of his mouth. There was one problem though, there were other citizens in the room than weren’t going to keep their mouths shut. There was Krill of course, who they had already discredited, but the Admiral had waited for the perfect opening, the the psychologist was there, the historian and more than a few other assistants, who he could see were Betas.

He knew from what Krill had said that Betas were insufferable gossips. So anything that happened in this tower was likely to get out.

With grudging slowness the council grinded back into movement, “Than what do you suggest, Admiral? We are not well versed in military tactics which is what this would require. You  can hardly blame us for turning back to the one thing that has always worked.”

Good job hiding behind being pathetic he thought to himself.

“It is a good thing that I am Admiral of the GA armada and have some experience with the tactical side of warfare.” He turned to look around at the others, “We will want to continue doing our tests on these creatures. I want to know what their weaknesses are, and I want to know how to kill them. This is to hoping that bullets do the trick, but I also want to know what they are attracted to. Some of you have suggested vibrations in the ground, in which case, I can use that.

Krill and katie agreed with him.

And he walked with them as they stepped from the room.

“You are really toeing a line the way you speak to them, I think.” Katie whispered quietly

He leaned in, “I have a feeling that the Vrul weren’t always like this. The traditions of government they have now are based on martial law that was present during a zombie apocalypse four thousand years ago. They don’t want to give up their power, but my duty isn’t to their government, it is to their citizens.”

Krill hummed his agreement from Kati’s opposite side, “The Admiral is right, I believe. The more I think about it, the more I have come to a conclusion that we are not as….. How shall we say…. Fragile as the council would make us believe. A lot of what they say is based on the idea that we need to be protected, but I think that ideology is something that was passed down from when we actually DID need to be protected. What other truths about the Vrul don’t we know because we haven’t been allowed to look into it further.”

Adam tapped his fingers against his crossed bicep, “The maximum age of a Vrul for one. I read a paper that said that the average age of a Vrul before termination is only around thirty or forty years, but if what they are saying is true about these zombie vrul, than it is likely they are around four thousand years old.” He glanced over at Krill, “how old does this make you past your termination order/”

Krill shrugged, “I was evaluated early, so I am only considered 35 in your human years, a little bit older in the Vrul reckoning of things, but that does pose an interesting hypothesis. I have never actually seen a Vrul die of old age. But it would make sense with the termination order. If we were forced into cities, than it would make sense that they would do these things out of a need for population control, that is assuming that we can live forever, a thought that seems ludicrous to me, but still.”

Adam nodded, “Starting off though, I want to know what kind of music does what to the creature.”

Dr Katie looked at him skeptically, “Music?”

He nodded, “Music.”

“What are you planning, she said suspiciously, looking him over with a critical eye.

He smiled, “Dealing with the hoard all at once, but if we can do that, and use music against them, well then I would want to use all of my inherent advantages now wouldn’t I?”

Katie nodded with some thought and motioned him onward.

They went back to the chamber, while he and some of the marines went back to the wall, where the group of ravening Vrul were still tearing at the base.

“Lower the shields.” he ordered on of the Betas.

The creature looked at him like he was nuts, but the look on his face made clear, in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to argue and hurried to do as Adam ordered.

The small section of the field opened, and he leaned out over the drop looking down at the creatures still clambering at the wall.

“Huh, Maverick, come here.”

Maverick trotted over behind him, rifle bouncing in a sling against her chest and she skidded to a halt next to him, “Yes Boss.”

“Think you can shoot one of them in the head from up here?”

She paused, frowned but then shrugged, “I mean…. yeah , probably.”

“Go on, target practice.”

She looked at him a bit confused for a second, before shrugging and leaning out over the drop. He grabbed her by the back of the shirt just to give her that extra bit of security while she got a good angle.

There was a small pause, and then a sharp subsonic crack as the rifle fired. The Vrul flinched at the shockwave and Adam’s ear’s rang. Damn idiot forgot to put in some hearing protection before she did that, but what was done was done. Not even a millisecond later there was a sharp explosion as the Vrul in question shattered into its component parts. It cracked open like an egg and the strange, and deadly pollen ruptured out before falling back onto the ground.”

Maverick drew herself back inside the shield which shut quickly.

“Huh, that worked better than expected.”

“Yeah, but did you see the polen?”

He frowned and nodded, “I did. I don’t think any Vrul should be going on this mission with us, and as for the humans. IT will be full suits and respirators for everyone. I want to see how long these spores can last in the environment by themselves. Hopefully it isn’t long, because if it is then that puts my whole plan out the window. I also want to see how long it can last in the air, because that is going to be super important.

***

When he returned to the lab later on after coordinating his original idea Dr. Katie and krill were waiting for him with their results.

“So, what did we find.”

“A couple of things.” Krill announced, “FIrst of all, the spores last a very short time outside the host, maybe twenty four hours at most, though that is only when provided with the perfect condition. They cannot infect the surrounding plant life or the soil. The spores themselves are rather heavy and so they don’t stick around in the air longer than the wind can keep them up, and they seem to be neutralized by water, or water ruins their infectivity when outside a subject, so that is also good news. His helium sack would still work if it was not for the tear, which means that these creatures can float, and we know that the deltas can burrow to some degree.”

Adam was nodding slowly, “And how about the music?”

“Ah, that we found is interesting. A steady and predictable beat does cause them confusion, so most human songs will get them. Anything without a measured beat isn’t an issue, like classical music for the most part. Songs that have no drumline don’t confuse them as much, and songs where the drum line isn’t as noticeable also don’t affect them as much. A good predictable drumline as seen in many rock songs will get them nice and confused, but your best bet for neutralizing them is a hard rock or metal drumline with additional patterns coming from the guitar and vocal track.”

“Hard rock and metal to save the day then.”

They looked at him with a curious expression as he grinned at them.

“What are you planning.”

“I am planning to kill zombies, and I am planning to do it in style.” 

[woman-loving]

A History of US Bear Subculture

Selection from “A Concise History of Self-Identifying Bears,” by Les Wright, published in The Bear Book: Readings in the History and Evolution of a Gay Male Subculture, edited by Les Wright, 1997.

Roots In his 1991 introduction to The Bear Cult: Photography by Chris Nelson,[1] Edward Lucie-Smith attributes iconographic sources of bears to the 1950s gladiator movies starring bodybuilder Steve Reeves. Gay “physique studios” of the time reflected the predominant fashion of closely shaven faces and bodies. “Old Reliable,” a Los Angeles-based photographer of homoerotic wrestling, specialized in “natural” men, soliciting hustlers, punks, ex-cons, and other truly “rough trade” types off the streets (from the 1950s-1990s) to pose for his camera. Old Reliable’s models were street-smart scrappers, perhaps shabby, perhaps defiant, unquestionably blue-collar, or lower, class. A fat cigar in one hand and the middle finger of the other hand thrust into the camera’s face is the signature pose for Old Reliable’s models. John Rechy’s novels, especially 1963 best-seller City of the Night, serve as a record of gay male engenderment of this particular type in the urban subcultures of the late 1950s and 1960s.

Another informant, living in the Miami, Florida area during the 1970s, reports that when he first started coming out into the bar scene in his mid-twenties he encountered a cluster of “bears” that congregated in the Tool Room, a back bar area of Warehouse VIII, a “disco place.”

“[i]n the meantime, some counter-culture tabloid I read occasionally ran a cryptic personal ad for a Bears party, which would gather at a men’s bar called The Ramrod on a particular evening and time, so I bit. Not knowing the bar’s whereabouts, then learning the address and trying to find the unmarked place in the downtown darkness, I was late but not too late. A dozen of so men with beards, most of them husky, were piling out of the bar door as I was walking in. Two of them grabbed me by each arm, and one said “Great! You’re the even number!” Now I was just in the first stages of coming out, even to myself, but I let myself get swept away (with an alarmed smile on my face). I thought I was headed for my first orgy (gay or straight), but it turned out to be a real party at a home on one of the causeway islands between Miami and Miami Beach. Real men having a hell of a good time without a woman in sight. Imagine!! We watched the second half of the Dolphins game, played some cards, then sat outside under the moonlight, slowly pairing off and disappearing back indoors or off into tropical hiding places behind the patio.

I was out. I started hanging out regularly at the Ramrod, where any bearded local was greeted as “Hey, Brother Bear!” I checked out The Rack, a leather saloon, but the bear camaraderie was not present. A few Rack regulars were good-looking, beefy, bearded guys, but their bikes and image were their focus, not the bears among them. The bears continued to patronize the Ramrod and the Tool Room, or a larger bar in Fort Lauderdale called Tacky’s, but could be found in lots of neighborhood bars, too, like The Hamlet and The Everglades. Not only did we refer to ourselves as bears, but the term caught on among non-bears too.

It was too early in beardom, I guess, to have a Bears club or organization of any kind. Nobody thought of it. There were spontaneous parties arranged by word-of-mouth, picnics, beach volleyball. We even loaded three vans full of bears and invaded Key West.

You might think of Florida as an unlikely place to find bears, but bearded men were very common there in the 60s and 70s. When the disco era streamrollered fashion for straight and queer alike, it became less common. Many bears kept our beards, many left only a moustache. The Ramrod faltered and closed, 13 Buttons and The Copa flourished, as did all the big discos of the day. I became more private whit three bear affairs over five years, then finally met a cowboy in New Orleans on Mardi Gras and left Florida forever. We moved to Colorado in 1981 and had five great years together. I've been in Denver since 1986 and was later a founding member of one of the oldest bear clubs in the country, Front Range Bears.

But that’s another story.”[2]

Larry Reams has unearthed the first documented apparent uses of “bear” in the current sense. He has found among records of the Los Angeles-based Satyrs’ MC club the formation of a “bear” club mentioned in two entries from 1966.[3] Another source cites anecdotally a group of lovers of a “Papa Bear” in Dallas, Texas, as the start of the “bear community” “well before 1975.”[4] Several undocumented sources have related similar anecdotes of private circle or bar circles of self-identifying bears.

The first published description of gay “bears” appeared in a whimsical article called “Who’s Who in the Zoo: A Glossary of Gay Animals,” penned by George Mazzei in the Advocate, July 26, 1979. Larry Reams reports that he and his friend, the author,

“were standing in Griffs’, a Los Angeles leather bar, one evening discussing the types of men we were and those to whom we were attracted. We decided we were Bears and continued on to formulate what we thought constitutes a Bear. Once we had described Bears it was an easy step to look around the bar and create the rest of the article.”[5]

Because the type so strongly suggests aspects of both bear attitude and bear image, it is worth quoting in its entirety:

“Bears are usually hunky, chunky types reminiscent of railroad engineers and former football greats. They have larger chests and bellies than average, and notably muscular legs. Some Italian-American Bears, however, are leaner and smaller; it’s attitude that makes a Bear.

General Characteristics: Hair. Their tangled bears often present no discernible place to insert a comb. Laughter. Bears laugh a lot and are generally good natured. They make wonderful companions since they are prone to reach for the check, buy the next round and keep abreast of when the Trocadero is dancing this season. Their good humor can turn threatening if you attempt to cruise their trick and you will hear about if for weeks afterward. [...]”

Jack Fritscher was creating and documenting a similar impulse in San Francisco contemporaneous to this Los Angeles subculture. Those pre-AIDS years in the Castro and South-of-Market subculture are documented in the roman à clef Some Dance to Remember. Recorded in the novel is an account of Fritscher’s short-lived underground magazine called Man2Man, a direct precursor to the first incarnation of BEAR magazine. The “homomasculinity” of Fritscher’s philosophical quest was summed up in the magazine’s subtitle: “What you’re looking for is looking for you!”

First-Wave Bears of the Zeitgeist, 1986-1989

The energy that called itself “bear” appeared as one of the signs of reemerging gay communal life following the arrival of AIDS in the 1980s. After several years in a state of shock, emotional devastation, eating more, perhaps exercising less, continuing to age, and ready for a somewhat slower and more compassionate pace of gay sex and gay social life, “hibernating” clones, leathermen, and many other self-identifying types came back to gay public spheres as “bears.” AIDS led many of us to put on extra padding and to eroticize (or publicly admit to our erotic desire for) male bulk. Feminists, such as Andrea Dworkin and Mary Daly, had articulated the mechanisms of patriarchal/capitalist subjugation through the “beauty myth.” The tyranny of the “Castro (or Christopher) Street clone” had been breached.

Since the late 1970s, in counterpoint to the “endless party” spirit of gay life, increasing numbers of gay men were burning out on the alcohol and recreational drugs. Alcoholism has been, and remains, a serious problem in the gay community. The drug experimentation of the “love generation” had turned into a nightmare before AIDS arrived. Now, for the first time, many were experiencing another sense of self, a “sober self,” a discovery of self-respect, which allowed them to bring to a halt these self-destructive behaviors. Across the country sobriety became not only fashionable, but even “politically correct.” Discussion of the uses and misuses of the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous belongs elsewhere. Relevant to bears is the rise of self-esteem among gays--whether through sexual “liberation” or adoption of cultural norms of the moment.

The self-empowerment movements of the 1970s, the nurturance and “safe space” strategies of 1970s feminism, the ever greener alternative impulses of rural gays, Radical Faeries, and nongay-identifing men-loving men (as disseminated, for example, through RFD magazine), and the fundamental strategy of Stonewall politics--coming out--prepared the way. For gay men, who had come out as gay, as sober, as HIV positive, as leathermen, it would seem “natural” to come out--yet again--as a bear. On the one hand, Stonewall-era identity politics shaped the Zeitgeist. On the other hand, for many men-loving men who did not identify with any of the images of gay men in the gay press or with (usually) urban gay men they had encountered on trips to a city, their first encounter with the idea or an embodiment of a “bear” would strike pay dirt. Many have reported immediate identification, sometimes after years or decade of not “fitting in.” Twelve-stepping and two-stepping were new venues for socializing, for being in community without an explicit exhortation to sex. It gave us another chance, a utopian moment, in which to reinvent ourselves and our community.

“Bears” have been emerging as successor to the “clone” and as transmutated variant of “leatherman,” as an integration into gay mainstream social life of “girth-and-mirthers.” In many ways, it was a humanizing response to what clones had been. Martin P. Levine, in his study “The Life and Death of Gay Clones,” focuses on the urban enclave of West Village clones (Manhattan), noting that “AIDS, gay liberation, male gender roles, and the ethics of self-fulfillment, constraint, and commitment”[7] were the sociocultural shapers, creating and destroying this gay male subculture. Bears, during the 1980s, represented a break with the competitive and objectifying tendencies which had alienated so many Stonewall-era gay men. Bears continued the tradition of masculine identification, the social identity politics of gay liberation, and basic Enlightenment values of equality, self-determination, and self-fulfillment. Bears sought to ameliorate between socially isolating cliques and creating safe social spaces, comingling social and sexual spheres, merging rough, unkempt masculine iconography with the emotional nurturing lacking in the clone subculture and the caretaking many gay men felt called to as a direct result of the AIDS epidemic.

The point of titration came in 1987. The “Bear Hugs” parties, the advent of BEAR magazine, and developments in electronic communications were the catalysts that sparked the concept of the self-aware, self-identifying bear across communities. First, computer bulletin boards and then listservres and moderated mailing lists made communications instantaneous and were collectively dubbed “cybearspace.” All three significant events took place or are tracable back to San Fransisco, independent each other but with an unexpectedly synergistic effect all together. All three represented, each in its own way, a “safe space” for bears.

Play Parties A group of friends began organizing private “play parties” in Berkeley and San Francisco in 1987, as safe and warm gatherings--social and sexual for their friends and friends of friends. Private, invitation-only “jack-off circles” became popular during the AIDS sexual freeze, but these were an alternative social and sexual space for gay men who felt “left out”--out because they did not fit, or felt like they did not fit, the gay media images of “beauty”--young, tanned, smooth-skinned, blond LA surfer boy “twinks.” Their “difference” was both physical and perceptual, and was expressed through a social and sexual inclusiveness--men in their thirties, forties, and fifties, ranging from slender to stocky to chubby (though generally on the heavier side), usually with beards and perhaps body hair, and from a range of social classes. The common mold was a warm, nurturing, affectionate attitude toward each other. The intimacy of the early days changed, however, when the gatherings grew to over 100. By 1989, a larger space and a more formalized “guest list” became necessary.

This San Francisco group was the spawning ground for several later developments. Among them were Bear Fax Enterprises, a business privately owned by Ben Bruner and Bill Martin. The International Bear Expo, which ran for three years in San Francisco (1992, 1993, and 1994), the effort of dozens of local bears, was overseen by a steering committee, many of whom later founded the Bears of San Francisco and the International Bear Rendezvous. The “International Mr. Bear” competition and title were introduced at Expo ‘92; John Caldera, the first title holder, eventually acquired ownership of the tile, and the contest has been held annually ever since.

“Bear soup” became a widely adopted idea. In many places it refers specially to hot tub parties, though often with the implication of an orgy or private sexual pairings later in the evening. Sometimes “bear soup” seems to refer merely to a crowded space full of bears. The Bear Hugs group in Great Britain is a strictly social organization.

Similar groups, such as the OzBears of Sydney, Australia, and the Bear Cave parties in Manhattan, had started up for purposes of private socializing, and formed the basis of new groups that developed into bear clubs dedicated to social activities or even community work. As organized bear clubs have arisen and sex clubs started advertising a weekly “bear night,” these play parties have all but disappeared.

BEAR Magazine At about the same time, Bart Thomas began putting together a small, photocopied underground magazine he called BEAR . The magazine was, at first, local to San Francisco. It consisted of jack-off photos and personal ads. The reader could send in appropriate photos of himself or stop by the BEAR office and pose for the magazine. In some ways, BEAR may be seen as the direct successor of Jack Fritscher’s Man2Man underground magazine of nearly a decade before. Before he could actually launch the magazine, Thomas succumbed to complications form AIDS, but not before passing the torch to his friend Richard Bulger.

Bulger’s vision of a lifestyle magazine, articulating this masculinity, with a leftist sexual political slant, and embedded anthropological underpinnings, not to wax abstractly, but to act, to embody the principles through practice and a level of discourse clear to any blue-collar man. In a few years’ time the magazine expanded in size and status, and from word-of-mouth circulation to international commercial distribution, with a full line of videotapes, photo sets, and accessories.

In this 1993 study of BEAR magazine, Joe Policarpio describes the dual aspects of image and attitude stressed by publisher Richard Bulger through his choice of models and editorial content. The general profile of a “bear” includes at least some facial hair and some body hair (”usually the more the better”), a “musky animality,” a blend of traditionally masculine aggressiveness and (feminine) desire to cuddle, muscles by Nautilus or physical labor, and a tendency to be older than the models found in most other gay male porn magazines. “The most important point is these men are presented as fitting an ideological pattern the magazine espouses. This is one of freewheeling, playful and positive attitude toward sexuality between men. He is comfortable in his body and exudes a sense of self-assurance.”[8]

Because of personal ties, BEAR magazine was from the start intimately connected with the South-of-Market bar scene. The original Lone Star Saloon was the first “bear bar,” and followed the tradition of the Ambush and the Balcony, both of which had gone out of business early in the AIDS epidemic. These “sleaze bars” all developed an international reputation. They all offered a free-spirited, anarchic, anything-goes ambience, drawing in blue-collar types who disdained the middle-class pretensions of mainstream gay culture, those who sensibility combined social rough edges with the loyalty ethic of the American lower classes, and misfits, eccentrics, and other “rugged individual” types historically drawn to frontier towns and their saloons.

“Cybearspace” Direct electronic communications over the Internet developed and proliferated during the 1980s and 1990s. Word-of-mouth knowledge of bears spread very rapidly across the Internet. The preponderance of bears on-line or in computer fields is traceable back, in part, to this. One of the most often used private or personal uses of the Internet, regardless of sexual orientation, is for communications of a sexual nature. The lines of communication are numerous and diverse: live chat lines (IRC), BBS (electronic bulletin boards), unmoderated (echoed) an moderated mailing lists, websites, CU See ME (live video transmission), and e-mail. Altogether an individual can transmit or receive text, images (such as gif or jpeg), sound, and video images (nearly) instantaneously. The Internet allows for establishing and maintaining contact anonymously, for uncensored communication, for the exchange of visual images (yourself, your friends, your favorite sexual icon), and for echoed messages (broadcasting to all subscribers of a mailing list of a global mailing to everyone in your e-mail address book). Certain mediums (such as the IRC) can guarantee anonymity (no clues as to personal identity or physical appearance). The question of subverting prejudgment on the basis of appearance becomes moot, however, when we consider the proliferation of visual mediums, such as webpages, archived gif and jpegs, or CU SeeMe, which permit blatant self-advertising based on one’s appearance without revealing one’s name or location.

Early on, circa 1985-1988, there were several bear-dedicated bulletin boards, such as the PC Bear’s Lair (sysop Les Kooyman). The bearcave chat room on the IRC has been a very popular site in cybearspace for live conversation. While the option of remaining anonymous is always available (everyone uses a “handle,” or pseudonym), cyber-communities have evolved over time. This may range from sexual encounters to personal friendships to life partners.

By far the most popular cybearspace is the Bears Mailing List, or BML. Founded by Steve Dyer and Brian Gollum in 1988, it grew from a small, friendly, safe-feeling cybergathering of several dozen bears to a heavily subscribed, largely anonymous, and often fractious, moderated exchange of over 3,000 subscribers. Since 1995 Henry Mensch and Roger Klorese have been moderating the BML and introducing changes to accommodate the dramatic shift in tenor and purpose of the list. Subscribers are drawn from all fifty states and several dozen nations worldwide. English is the lingua franca although everything, including whether to have and who should determine a common language (and how), has been brought up for discussion. Bob Donahue’s somewhat tongue-in-cheek rough guide to “bear codes,” which was accessible from the BML archives, is the source of subspecies terminology within the bear community, such a cub, otter, behr, and the like. Numerous individuals have taken the code in all seriousness and this has become a source of contention, quoted by both sides in disputes over what is a “real” bear. [...]

Although not the only cybear group to do so, the BML has staged several informal, in-person gatherings of its subscribers  During Stonewall 25 in New York City, for example, some sixty to seventy BMLers gathered at Bethesda Fountain in Central Park on the day before the parade. Consensus determined the group should form a spontaneous contingent and march in the parade. And thus on Sunday, Stonewall 25 included a sizable contingent of mostly bearded, bearish-appearing gay men from all across the country and from abroad.

Second Wave: formalizing, 1989-1994

Bear Clubs As the concept of bear circulated between gay communities across the country and “news of recent developments in the gay capital” was drawing more comers to San Francisco, localized efforts to promote and organize bears appeared everywhere. The Bear Paws of Iowa, co-founded by Dave Annis and Larry Toothman in 1989, was the first bear club. By 1992, Bear Expo organizers were aware of four such clubs. Two years later, there were forty. According to the International Directory of Bear Organizations, maintained by The Tidewater Bears (Virginia), as of January 1996, there were 137 bear clubs or explicitly bear-friendly (girth-and-mirth and leather) clubs worldwide.

Bear clubs have generally followed along the lines of their older cousins, the lather motorcycle clubs. In some places this means an informal club that schedules periodic social events. In other places, this has translated into a great deal of fundraising and gay community civic activities. As the club model has gained wider acceptance, it has drawn long-standing problems endemic throughout the gay community into its sphere.

A formal club membership structures creates automatically an insider/outsider division, even if membership is “open to all” (usually defined as “bears and their admires”). Having a club also invites quibbling over definitions of who is a “real” bear. (This is borne out by regional differences, whether emphasis has been placed on body hair, on body weight, or on “attitude,” though a beard or moustache seems to be universally required). Clubs and organizers of events, such as the OctoBearFest (Denver), Orlando Bear Bust, Bear Pride (Chicago), European Big Men’s Conference, or the International Bear Rendezvous (San Francisco) have created bear contests, which engenders the very hierarchical system the earlier bear impulse had been resisting.

Finally, the disjunctive ideals of bears as working-class masculinity and bears as an increasingly distinct subculture within mainstream gay culture bring into sharp relief the larger issues of gay community. If bears began in a spirit of inclusiveness and egalitarian-mindedness, sex positive and relatively “anti-looks-ist,” then what is to be made of the increasingly conformist, consumerist, competitiveness that has take over? As the idea of bears has spread, the opportunities to travel far and wide, to purchase ever more and ever more costly bearphernalia, to update an expand one’s computer sources are generating another, unanticipated dividing line-between bear haves and bear have-nots. to what extent does having money now calculate into the formulas of who is a “real” bear?

Expanded Print Media As BEAR magazine rapidly grew in format, production values, and circulation, reception among gay mainstream media remained very lower. The first published serious essay on bears was a piece I wrote in 1989. It appeared in its entirety in Seattle Gay News, an abbreviated version in the San Francisco Sentinel, and Drummer magazine carried the “Sociology of the Urban Bear” as the first bear cover story in 1990. (It was reprinted in Classic Bear, February 1996.)

What became known as bear types had been featured, in one way or another, in RFD (rural), in Chiron Rising (”mature”), in leather/SM-oriented, and girth-and-mirth publications. Numerous niche-crossover magazines sprang up in the early 1990s--Bulk Male, The Big Ad, Husky, Daddy, Daddybear, GRUF. Bearish models began staring back at the reader from the pages of Advocate Men, Honcho, In Touch, and other gay mainstream glossies. BEAR magazine’s direct competitor American Bear, published by Tim Martin (Louisville, KY) took advantage of a lacuna left by BEAR magazine’s retreat from Bulger’s philosophical lifestyle magazine publishing. With the establishment of the bear icon in the gay community and the world of mainstream-gay print advertising, gay bears had become a local presence everywhere (not just in San Fransisco). And with interests, at least sometimes, beyond immediate sexual gratification, this translated into new niche markets. While American Bear Features a regular column on dissonant (HIV-positive/negative) couples (Bulger adamantly refused to mention AIDS in his magazine), a how-to column on accessing the Internet, and other features, none of the bear magazines have attained Playboy-calibre intellectual content.

In the early 1990s “bear war” broke out when Bulger, then owner-publisher of BEAR, sought to gain sole ownership of the word “bear” as his company’s trademark. Needless to say, this led to a lot of bad feelings and was widely followed and criticized in cybearspace. The Advocate even mentioned it in print. At the time, the Bear Hug group’s informal newsletter the Bear Fax had been expanded into a full-fledged magazine by Bill Martin. The lingering legacy of this “war” was a schism, based on a difference in basic body types typically portrayed in each magazine, between “fat bears” and “skinny bears.” Since this time, personals ads have proven far more profitable, and the bulk of the magazine currently consisted of personals ads, photo spreads, and commercial advertising.[9] The magazine was sold to Bear-Dog Hoffman in 1994 and is currently under Joseph Bean’s editorship. It is not clear which direction the magazine will go. It is clear that BEAR is the voice of authority in matters of bear community and sensibility.

Print media as gone a long way in generating a prototypical bear icon--full-bearded, fairly to very hairy, beefy to chunky GWM baby-boomer, probably of Irish, Jewish, Italian, Scandinavian, or Armenian heritage. In reality, the question of race, presence or absence of body hair, body build, social class, or outlook on life is anything but so neatly compartmentalized. BEAR magazine introduced the serious photographic work of Chris Nelson (as Brahman Studio) and Steve Sutton (who succumbed to complications from AIDS in 1994). Lynn Ludwig has established himself as the documenter of the San Francisco bear community. And, perhaps, the most gifted photographer of bears is Los Angeles-based John Rand, whose work is included in this book.

Bear Contests The bear calendar includes many regional gatherings, as mentioned above, as well as annual bear contests as the local club level. The highlight of such events is often the bear content. As Lurch, a popular bear icon, stand-up comic, TV actor, and psychiatric nurse, has put it, “I prefer to say ‘titleholder.’ ‘Winner’ implies ‘losers,’ and none of us are losers.”[10] Successful bear contest titleholders may be expected to organize or work a number of fund-raisers, go on public speaking engagements and represent their hometown or club on the road. In other places, the local bear club may be one of the few, or even the only social outlet, and merely being a known presence in the local community is the extent of the titleholder’s “duties.”

The emergence of bear contents has tended to straddle the fence between two sides--parodying traditional gay ideals of beauty while striving to establish a new, legitimate bear ideal. The International Mr. Bear contest, a component part of the San Francisco-based International Bear Expo, evolved in its first three year from poking somewhat self-conscious fun at traditional gay values to striving in an increasingly serious manner to project an image of a self-confident bear ideal, a new icon assuming its place among the archetypes of male beauty. From the beginning there has been an emphasis on personal warmth, a compassionate nature, civic-mindedness in the gay community, and spiritual playfulness. Titleholders John Caldera (IMB ‘92) and Steve Heyl (IMB ‘93) worked hard during their “reign,” and have remained genuinely and deeply committed to the bear community. Yet, in the progression of titleholders and the proliferation of bear contests in recent years, here has been an increasing tendency toward consolidating a bear image, and away from qualities intangible or at least invisible to the camera.

[wildcreationmagic]

NozelxOcReader

Chapter 2 Captain’s Request (1/2)

Assisting the Captains you are in for a little more than just guiding them as your magic proves to be quite helpful. Although some aren’t as happy having the help of a civilian.

Captain’s Request (1/2)

Taking to the skies it was quiet for sometime other than you pointing where to go and saying how long or what to look for. Nozel still not acknowledging you and at times you weren’t sure if he was even going to follow your directions. “It should be coming up soon. The area isn’t large, but it has grown over the past few years. Even so it’s still easy to overlook.” 

Hearing your statement Fuegoleon looks at you and you turn your head to meet his gaze as he speaks. “If it’s gotten larger than that means there is activity going on.” You nod glancing back in front of you to ensure it wasn’t missed.

“Yes, the children are told to stay away and not many animals like being around there except sometimes birds overhead. It is practically dead- stop!” You point and up ahead is a fair sized area the trees appear to be nearly petrified with no leaves on them. Allowing you all to see the murky and muddy water beneath leading to a larger body of water in the center. You gesture to a clearing in the forest just outside of the area. “That would be the best place to land without being seen.” 

“I see it.” Is the flat reply you get as the other Captains watch you interact with Nozel almost naturally despite the difference in rank between you two. Landing everyone is off as the eagle is dispelled while Nozel walks over to converse with the other Captains on how to approach this. Mainly Fuegoleon, Nozel and Yami while William stays off to the side with a pleasant expression on his features. 

It isn’t exactly hard to hear what they are saying either with how their voices raise a bit. Yami being the biggest offender. “I say we just go in and can them before they know what hit them. They shouldn’t know we are here if what that crow said is true and they stay down there most of the time.” 

Eagle eyes close as he sighs with Yami’s suggestion. “And risk their leader escaping? We don’t even know how many of them there are, and you want to charge in there blindly?”  His brow arched down sharply. It was clear even Fuegoleon was doubting Yami’s plan.

“Nozel is right, besides that we have the boy’s safety to consider as well.” The crimson haired Captain keeps his arms crossed, and the three seem to be at a standoff with conflicting ideas.

In the meantime William looks over to you as you’re deep in thought. You could offer to help, but at the same time they were Magic Knights and Captains at that. Offering your assistance could be seen as insulting- at least to Captain Silva anyway. Taking a breath you can feel your heart pounding in nervousness at proposing something to the Captains. “Is something troubling you?” William’s voice rings out beside you. You didn’t even hear him approach his footfalls so quiet and you give a soft start. Even so the other Captains don’t notice as they were too engrossed in their own conversation. “I didn’t mean to startle you (Y/n).” 

Hand on your racing heart you watch the Captain who offers you a gentle smile in apology. “No, it’s alright Captain Vangeance. I was just thinking.” Hearing this he tips his head slightly as if inclining for you to continue and you take a nervous breath. “Well the other Captains,” you take a glance at them “are arguing over how to safely approach and gauge the enemy. From what I know all your magics aren’t exactly suited for stealth like that- no offence Captain.” 

“None taken.” 

Glad you didn’t offend him you continue speaking while periodically glancing at the other Captains. “I know it isn’t my place, but I may be able to help. With my magic I can transform into animals. If I were to turn into a hawk for example I could go overhead and take a count reporting back to you four. Meanwhile the bandits, or whatever you wish to call them, wouldn’t be the wiser.” 

Intrigued William offers you a brilliant smile while pondering your proposal for a second, and within moments he is turning to the other Captains. “Gentlemen, I think (Y/n) has a solution to our problem.” Striding up to the others with you even your friend gives William a strange look as sharp violet eyes land on you in contempt.

Fuegoleon however interjects before Nozel can voice his displeasure at this proposal. “William, are you sure this is a good idea? She is a civilian after all.” His purple hues turn to you kindly. “We are truly grateful, but we can’t allow you to put yourself in danger.”

Your eyes close a moment you take a breath while Yami seems to agree, but you surprise everyone. “It wasn’t Captain Vangeance’s idea for me to help, but my own. With my magic I can turn into different creatures. It would allow me to get close enough without anyone being the wiser to you being here.” 

Exchanging glances Fuegoleon closes his eyes conceding while Yami nods. “I suppose, blondie here is the best chance we got.” Nozel’s sharp eyes dig into Yami then back to you and William.

“You can’t be serious, if something goes wrong the whole mission could be jeopardized. Besides that if she gets hurt it will be on us for letting her ‘help’.” Putting down the idea it was clear he wasn’t happy having to have assistance from someone who wasn’t only not a Magic Knight, but a commoner as well.  

Meeting Nozel’s gaze he stares back with an unreadable expression on his features while you try to reason with him. “Captain Silva I know that it is a risk, but in the case I do get hurt it would be my own fault for being careless. I hardly think the Magic Knights would be to blame for someone who willingly helped while knowing this could be risky. There was a risk involved even letting me show you where this place was since we didn’t know what would be waiting.” 

As you speak Yami grins, Fuegoleon smiles with his arms crossed, William gives a closed eyed smile while your friend was beaming giving Captain Silva a sideways smirk.

Eyes finally leaving your face to William his tone doesn’t change. “Fine, but if this goes badly it will be on your head Vangeance.” 

Despite the harsh words William smiles and nods surprisingly chipper. “Of course.”

All eyes turn to you as Fuegoleon gives a small nod of encouragement, William tips his head expectantly with a pleasant expression, and Yami waits patiently. Nozel on the other hand seems like he was waiting for you to back out of what you said. As if he is looking for any excuse to call you out, but you don’t. 

Instead you take out your grimoire and flip it open setting it out on a rock holding your hand over it. As you do so your mana flows out around you covering like a blanket and your shape shifts. The green glow morphing its shape is all the Captains could see as they watch until a shrill whistle of a hawk rings out, and a sleek feathered body shoots from the glow dispersing it. 

Spiraling upwards everyone’s gaze was on your new form as you glide effortlessly climbing higher and higher while you soar over the swampy area. Blue hues the same as your human form; you survey the land until you catch sight of the stagnant pool of water in the center of it all. Concentrating you sense several mana signatures all of them fairly strong, but not something the Captains would have to worry over. Through the cluster of mana you sensed a smaller one that has to be the missing child. With one last inspection of the water you glide off, and once out of view make a wide arc back to the Captains.

Once low enough you shift back to human and land, turning your attention to the four men as Yami mutters. “Damn I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it.”  Which irks Miranda as she is about to call him out, but you speak up first.

“I counted about 10 different mana signatures and what I assume was the boy’s is the farthest from us.” William nods and you continue. “About 10feet off the shore the shelf drops off sheerly and 10 to 12 meters down it looks like there is a dome or bubble from some magic is how they are staying down there.” 

Smiling at you William glances over the other Captains almost smugly with how successful you were with your ‘mission’. Yami rubbing the back of his neck shaking his head. “Well damn. You’re more diligent than some of my squad members.” Finral swaks a bit but is shut down by his Captain. “Shut it, you’re my ride. So you’re not completely useless.”

“Oh gee thanks Captain Yami.” The spacial user replied sarcastically as the others converse.

Fuegoleon places a hand on his chin pondering his thoughts to the others. “Then if we stay far enough back from the edge we may be able to catch them by surprise. I say we approach with caution, we don’t know if they will do anything rash to the boy if cornered. (Y/n).” You jump a bit with the mention of your name looking at the Crimson Lion Captain as he meets your eyes. “Come with us, but stay close and stay back. Leaving you here alone would be too risky.” 

Still not happy with you coming with Nozel says nothing, if the other Captains agreed it was useless trying to convince them otherwise as you all begin to move. Edging up to the edge of the treeline William raises a hand to silently signal the group to stop as you gaze into the clearing. It looks like it could have once been a beautiful small lake in the clearing, but any trace of green or color in general is long gone now. Slowly leaving the treeline now you all stop a bit before the waters edge as Captain Vangeance opens up his grimoire, but as several minutes pass the other three give him a mixture of expressions.

For once not speaking loudly Yami pokes at his rival. “What’s wrong Goldie, did ya get stage fright finally?” 

He shakes his head at Yami while glancing around cautiously. “I attempted to use a spell to discreetly dispose of them, but my magic can’t seem to penetrate even the water.”  Head turning Yami puffs out some smoke and wades calf deep in the water glancing at the Golden Dawn Captain.

“I don’t see what your problem is, water seems fine to me. If it is a barrier I can just slash through it-.” Fuegoleon places a hand on his shoulder shaking his head.

“That wouldn’t be wise Yami, you could hurt the boy they have. Nozel, perhaps you could pull the boy out using your mercury.”

Hearing them debate you are further back, but still able to hear what is going on. Blinking you are surprised as even Captain Silva wasn’t able to penetrate the water's surface. Thinking you look between the receding mercury and Captain Yami a thought comes to mind.

“Captains, I may be able to help here.” Four pairs of eyes gaze at you while Finral shakes his head.

“I know you’ve helped us a bit, but what can you do? Not even my Spacial Magic could open a portal below there for the Captains.” 

Heart racing and heat to your face you shake your head. “I’m not saying I’m strong by any means, but perhaps one of my creatures could get past the surface. I noticed Captain Sukehiro can enter past the surface just fine, but any magic is repelled. While my creatures are technically magic they are also sentient beings in their own right that live for a period of time.” 

Even if you are sure of your plan, bringing it up to the Captains makes you nervous to seem like you’re intruding or showing off.

Behind his mask William beams at you along with Fuegoleon as Nozel’s critical stare turns to one of interest and Yami chuckles. “I knew there was a reason Sunshine is friends with you Blondie.” 

Fuegoleon gestures rather gently for you to carry on as he muses softly. “Regardless of your claim of not being strong you’ve got more power than you give yourself credit for. Don’t sell yourself short.” Yami however couldn’t resist a snicker at the last sentence. 

“You sure she isn’t falling a little short in height Fuegoleon?” Your eyes closed and brow furrowed a bit. You don’t see what Miranda did to Yami but he sure isn’t happy about it.

“Captain, could you please take this a bit more seriously?” Having had it with Yami’s attitude you step back as your grimoire opens. “Wild Creation Magic: Armored Alligator.” Forming in seconds a nearly 30 foot reptile sits toothy jaws agape, slightly different from a normal gator with a dorsal fin lining each side of it’s back. Each fin tapers along several points down the body to the base of the tail as it recedes. Head swerving towards you with glowing green eyes you gently rub the tip of its snout while the others look on impressed. Just moments ago you called yourself weak, but you made that creature?

Through your mana you convey what is wanted of the gator as it’s jaws close slowly and it wades into the water until disappearing entirely. Not even 20 seconds later bubbles come up and bodies scramble from the murky water. Shouts higher in tone than one would think a man could make cause Yami to burst out laughing. “And here comes the rats.”

Your alligator pops up as well carrying the boy by the back of his shirt as he coughs and sputters whimpering in fear. Teeth parting while setting him down at your feet you wrap your arms around him comfortingly to try and stop his whimpering. “It’s okay, you’re safe now Timmothy.” You swiftly recognize him and inwardly shake your head. “The Magic Knights are here; they'll make sure everything is taken care of.” Miranda helps you ensure Timmothy is alright as he eases up remembering one of Carney’s own residents is a Magic Knight, so they couldn’t be that bad.

A couple of stray bandits from the group single you and Miranda out but she knocks them back with a Solar Burst. The alligator you have summoned yet lets out a hiss of air using its tail to swipe them away knocking the pair over to Fuegoleon and Nozel. Fuegoleon grinning at you while Nozel seems rather indifferent. 

.

Considering the difference in skill level, despite the numbers it isn’t long until the Captains have the kidnappers subdued. Yami sitting on his small pile while knocking the heel of his boot against one’s head that was still conscious enough.

 Briefly inspecting the other Captain’s work William gives a smile and nod of approval.

“Well, that should be the last of them.”  With his usual smile on his features things were calming down as you relax your hold on the boy while the others also seem to relax. “Now all we have to do is get them back to the Capital, Yami would you be able to assist with that?”

Head turning up he pauses mid-light of a new cigarette as him and the other Captains tense turning in the same direction. Closest of them to you was Fuegoleon who grits his teeth. “It isn’t quite over I’m afraid, it seems their leader has shown up.” The mana around was worse than you could have ever imagined. A mixture of icy cold when your limbs go numb on a winter day and smoke trying to choke the life out of you. Any light that was left from the day is choked out as well by a cloud of black miasma that creeps closer. As it passes by the already dead trees they begin to wither even more and they crumble to dust.

“Don’t let it touch you!” Fuegoleon roars sending a blast of flames and it disperses most of it as the waves of heat push the air upwards. 

Yami meanwhile tisks seeming tense but still joking. “No, really? I was gonna go see if that stuff smelled like flowers!” Glancing over his shoulder at Miranda he shouts out to her. “Sunshine protect your friend and the boy!” 

“Yes, Sir!” 

Firmly nodding she moves closer while you keep on guard yourself, as the culprit of the attack is revealed. Floating on a similar miasma she giggles and tips her head. Cheekbones gaunt over her face while her skin was white as snow, ruby lips, hair silver and nearly down to her ankles. Though the most disturbing thing may be her pitch black eyes almost seeming to steal your soul. Her dress pure black along her skeletal frame with a conical black witch hat upon her head.

“Ohh I was hoping to surprise you boys. Though what a shock for me learning all my little helpers were put out! Not to mention you took my little lamb, but no matter. I have you all to play with now!” Singing in near childish glee twirling until she suddenly stops and head jerks to the side unnaturally. “Although, I can’t decide who to play with first. Soon you can all play with me forever in the afterlife!” 

Yami sighs, until cig still between his teeth. “Ya know lady, you really must like the sound of your own voice. And no offence, but who would want to play with you? You look like a damn skeleton. We’re just here to haul your ass in and take that magic item off your hands, now cough it up.” 

There was no answer, instead all Yami gets in response is a hiss as her hand lashes out and grimoire flips open. The cover has a skeletal hand reaching up with a 3-leaf clover over the middle finger otherwise the rest was all black. Hands reaching up out of the boggy ground grabbing at Yami’s limbs holding him in place as he grunts. “I’m really not into this kinky shit you freaky lady!” 

Flames shoot and eat away at the hands holding Yami down as he sighs dramatically. Meanwhile Nozel scoffs at the Black Bulls Captain. “You need to learn and watch that tongue of yours Foreigner.” As he scolds a spear of mercury shoots at the woman who had been launching at Yami. “Next time we may not be here to save you.” 

Launching attacks at her the woman giggles putting up a defence and attacking whenever she gets the chance. “I never told you boys, but I’m Clementine! Though I suppose it won’t matter soon enough.”

Clicking his tongue Yami dodges and swaps attacks with her best he could without getting too close to the toxic death cloud around her. “Oh and why is that?”

“Hehe, because you’ll all be dead!” Throwing her hands up twirling Yami grunts in response.

“Yeesh, Jack I think I found a chick as crazy as you.” He mumbles while Fuegoleon roars at the Captains to keep focus.

With the Captains keeping her at bay it was a relief to see they had this covered. The main reason why the witch wasn’t taken down yet was because she seemed to like and flit between each Captain giving a few attacks that were more meddlesome than anything before disappearing again. 

When this first began you knew that you had Gustaph summoned so you called for him by sending your mana through a given area. Finally the whistling shriek from his beak signals his arrival as he lands beside you and you place the little boy on his back just in case. You knew better than to try and get away if the Captains didn’t instruct you, it would possibly only cause them problems in the long run. 

After avoiding another attack you watch as Captain Vangeange grows one of his World Trees as he calls out to the others. “We need to finish this shortly! Judging by her magic it’s safe to say there is a good chance she could get stronger once the sun sets!” 

Running along the branches of his tree he sends a flurry of them at the witch only to be blocked by her deadly miasma, as she floats fluttering her lashes fondly at him.

“Oh how right you are Captain Vangeange!” The witch coos out seemingly thrilled with his observation. “Though I wouldn't expect anything less from the Captain of the mightiest Magic Knight squad! You really are a golden boy aren’t you? Ahaha!” Clapping deranged and delighted she wasn’t bothered in the slightest as her efforts were being thwarted by the Captains. 

“Oh Stalllord! Come here sweetheart, come to mommy!” Holding her arms out in joy like she is welcoming a child or puppy as the ground shakes startling you and the Captains. Bubbling up from the depths a large skeletal figure with strips of flesh hanging off the bones rises up. It’s face short and wide with horns curling back behind the skull as two large fangs protrude from the top jaw- it seems some of the other teeth are missing or broken. Supported by the vertebra of it’s spine two massive long fingered arms come out slapping the wet ground and you have Gustaph take off into the air out of the way. Yourself sitting on his back with the boy while Miranda pulls her broom from a magic pouch and floats beside you on it. From your new position you could see a pair of broken wings on the back as well making you conclude this was likely a dragon. Or rather a type of dracolich. 

“That’s a good boy! Mommy has some new toys for you to play with, don’t be too rough on them though darling! I still need them alive!” As the monster appears it is almost like the fog has thickened ten-fold. 

Yami uses his Dark Cloak Lightless Slash to stave off the hand coming slapping down on him as the Stallord lets out a bellowing yowl seeming to flinch back. A blaze of flames surge at the face of the beast, however it only shakes and rumbles again in annoyance. The bits of flesh that were still hanging on burning up filling the air with a foul stench. Mercury lashes out forming chains around the skeletal wrists binding them to the ground leaving only the head mobile. Jaw opening William seizes the chance and throws what looked like an orb or spore at it. Moments after it makes contact it explodes into a giant tree overtaking the creature as all goes silent.

“Stallord! My baby! How dare you!” Her voice shrieks at you all.

Yami leans back as he raises a brow with her words. “I don’t know how good your eyesight is, but that thing was no baby.”

Nozel tips his chin up at her voice laced with disdain. “It’s over, now give us the magic item. We know it’s an item to enhance necromancy like magic such as yours.” 

Inky black eyes lock onto Nozel as she sneers at him. “Never, I’ll just have to try a little harder! Once I’m done with you lot, all your mana will be mine! Then I’ll be that much closer to showing I’m not only the strongest witch, but the strongest mage!”

William keeps his tone composed but his eyes tell a much different story. His gaze narrows as he questions the woman. “What of the trouble you’ve been causing these people along with kidnapping a young boy?”

She scoffs at the Golden Dawn Captain. “I’m tired of hiding! Tired of staying in that damn forest, but Mother didn’t see it that way so she banished me!” Huffing as her voice rips and breaks while showing off her teeth in a sneer. “And I’m so tired of all of you! Now just lay down, and DIE!” Expending much more mana she tips her hand up and flicks it off showing the magic item. 

The Crown of Necromancy. Wrapped around her forehead in black gold the almost dainty and strangely beautiful item tapers up in several points around her head. Onyx black gems glinting while she presses it down on her temple and blood drips down her face. On the bottom what looks like thorns digging into her skin and they slowly seem to soak up some of the blood making the gems glisten like rubies. 

The thought of them filling or being powered by blood was enough to make you want to be sick. This woman is truly insane. 

A cylinder of mana nearly explodes from the World Tree that had subdued the Stallord while Clementine giggles. William’s face twists to one of concern as the bark turns from an earthy brown to an almost bone white with wisps of black emitting from it, and before long the top spews more of that toxic mist or sludge. 

“ROWL!” 

Rumbling and shaking emits and cracks from the tree echo through the area until the skeletal beast bursts from it’s prison. 

 Up in the sky away from the thing you spot the black fog-like miasma curling around the outer trees and slowly starting to circle closer to the Captains. Keeping low and hiding against the dark ground and foggy mist. 

“Captains you need to get off the ground!” 

 Shouting you summon four more gryphons who dart in the direction of the Captains. A tawny colored one to Captain Vermillion, a pure black gryphon for Yami, a golden coated one towards William while the last gryphon has the features of a snowy owl and white lion goes for Nozel. Three of the four get to the Captains while the snowy colored one clicks in displeasure with Nozel already being on a mercury eagle. All the while his violet eyes gaze at you with his typical nearly unreadable expression, though what his eyes say is clear. He doesn’t need assistance from anyone, let alone from you.

A shout from Yami snaps your attention away from the scornful gaze of Nozel. “Thanks Blondie! Hey prissy pants, not all of us can fly ya know so could be a little more grateful!”  

Clementine pouts a little but claps her hands together, although as her eyes turn to you and she gives a smile that reminds you of a spider you hold back a shudder. “Oh hello darling. I didn’t see you there! Sorry to have left you out of the fun for so long!” She coos out at you, but it just makes your skin crawl.

Attempting to move towards you, you’re surprised when a blade of silver comes between yourself and the witch. Glancing over as Captain Silva has a scowl on his features. “She may be here but your fight is with us, witch. Let down your guard and we will finish you here and now.” Watching the silver haired royal you feel inwardly grateful for the protection even if the Captain was a little cold.

Hovering back Clementine scowls landing on her pet’s head as the black mist disappears from her, presumably not to destroy her own creature. Drawing upon the crown’s power more as the veins on her face become more prominent as her lower half begins to sink into the head of the Stallord. Breathing heavily her face is near crazed as she lets out a scream and so does the creature. More of the black substance spewing from the mouth as Fuegoleon places a large column of fire all around Clementine and her pet blocking the attack and any risk of hitting yourself or the others. 

His spell has hardly dissipated when another flaming attack is launched. 

“Sol Linea!” 

Bony hand raising to block Fuegoleon’s attack, Yami smirks brandishing his sword high above his head. “Heh not today. Dark Cloak Lightless Slash!” Severing the arm Clementine fused with the stall creature screams in agony as blood drips from her own arm, and she slumps over the skeletal head touching the boggy ground while her face is hidden from view. 

To your left a gleam of silver catches your eye. “Silver Shining Regal Spear.”  As a glowing beam extends from Nozel’s hand as he sweeps it across the area, and through the spine of the monster. Screaming as she falls Clementine’s dracolich crumbles and she tumbles through the muddy ground.

She isn’t even given the chance to stand up when she is ensnared by a mana draining tree as her body goes limp, and as her head hangs the crown slips from her head into the mud. The fog clears with your gryphons landing and the Captain's dismount off of them while Nozel stands on his eagle surveying yet as it lands.

“It seems she killed some of her followers with that black mist.” Nozel isn’t sure if he could even call them that for all they know they could have been forced out of fear, but it wasn’t an excuse for their actions. 

Finral, who had been hiding, opens a portal allowing the remaining unconscious bandits to be put through as Yami and Miranda follow once the Crown of Necromancy is secured in a magic lock box which is replaced in her magic pouch. While William turns towards the remaining Captains. “Fuegoleon, Nozel would you mind escorting the boy and (Y/n) back? Yami and I will inform the Wizard King, meanwhile this will give you a chance to ensure everything is still fine in the village.” Purple hues turn to you as he smiles warmly. “And I must thank you for assisting us even though you weren’t obligated.”

You give a little smile back. “Even if I only offered to show you where this is, if I didn’t help it would be bad as refusing to help outright would it not?” 

Closing his eyes he smiles and hums giving a short reply as he leaves you alone with the remaining two Captains. “I suppose.”

A cry snaps you out of it as you turn around and see Nozel looking irritated and Fuegoleon just seems troubled. Walking over you pick up what is going on. “I don’t wanna fly! I just wanna walk back home!” Tears pooling over Timmy’s eyes you sigh a bit walking over as Nozel turns his eagle gaze towards you. “Get this boy to understand it is the only way. We will not be walking all the way back to that village, it’s a ridiculous distance. It will be well after nightfall.” Scowling at the boy Nozel seems to have had it being in Carney away from the Capitial. Fuegoleon pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It seems this is our only option Nozel, although I don’t think the boy will be able to walk all that way by himself.” Hearing this Nozel gives a start, his eyes staring at Fuegoleon, he couldn’t be serious!? 

Calling Gustaph over with your mana the gryphon pads over and lowers himself to the ground as Timmy sniffles yet, but as you talk he calms a bit. “Get on Gustaph’s back he will carry you, and I promise he won’t fly again. I know that was scary but you were brave.” Finally nodding with your coaxing he does so and Gustaph strides past both Captains proud as a peacock. 

Gazing at them you give an inquisitive glance and they follow, Nozel a little happier with the fact he didn’t have to carry the boy or worry about him keeping up. Both Captains follow suit after you. 

Despite having to walk shortly after the battle both Captains don’t seem to struggle a bit although you shouldn’t be surprised you couldn’t quite hide it, and Nozel notices his words scathing. “What is with that look on your face?”

Slightly embarrassed and ashamed you glance away keeping a hand on Gusaph’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just thought after the battle you would be a bit tired Captain Silva. I didn’t mean to offend either of you.” 

The Silver Eagles Captain gives you hardly more than a ‘hmph’ turning his head away in dismissal as Fuegoleon smiles at you. “No need to apologize. The battle was more troublesome than we expected, but as Captains we couldn’t fail in something so simple.” You blink in surprise, but you nod giving a slight smile. It was amazing in the contrast of their personalities. 

“Ah, I see. I guess around here nothing quite as… exciting happens so it was a bit of a shock.” 

In turn you receive a grin from the Crimson Lion Captain. “I believe you handled yourself quite well. You may be used to simply bandits, but your abilities and magic saved us. Without you we may not have been able to reach the boy through the barrier.” His eyes turn to the now sleeping boy on Gustaph’s back. Nozel’s eyes flit slideways a moment to you, but he doesn’t dispute what his rival has said. 

“I’m sure you would have found a way. I was likely just lucky more than anything. Yes, my creatures are alive, but they were still from spells originally so I wasn’t completely sure it would work.” Speaking softly you keep your eyes ahead while sharp violet hues watch you closely.

To your side the gentle rumble of Fuegoleon’s voice washes over you. “Even so you were a great help, and as the Captain of the Crimson Lion Kings I thank you.”  Head turned away slightly, you hide a blush to your cheeks from the praise. Eventually during the walk Fuegoleon speaks more to you, and you begin to open up. Relaxing as the two of you speak almost like longtime friends. 

Beaming at the taller man your eyes are alight with life and enjoyment due to the newfound familiarity. “Ah, my older sister is around your age. We used to spar using poles, the first to three hits won. Though I’m sure it was just an excuse to yell if I did something wrong. She still isn’t fond of me, but she is my sister. So of course I care about her no matter what she says or does to me.” Engrossed in your conversation you don’t notice the attention of a certain silver haired royal, fleeting as the glance was.

Eyes ahead Fuegoleon’s eyes nearly crinkle with the mention of sparring. “My own sister is a little older than me, we used to do the same with our magic. She can be high strung and ferocious in her own right, but everytime we trained it was to better ourselves.” Head turning slightly towards you he continues. “Even if you don’t get along with your own sister, I believe everything she’s done has made you stronger.” Offering a heartfelt smile you nod slightly.

Just on the other side of Fuegoleon his rival stares at him with a mixture of disbelief and judgmental glares. Why was he conversing with you, a commoner so casually? Demeaning himself to such conversation as if you were his equal. You had helped them yes, but now that you were simply showing them back to the main road leading to Carney there was no such need. They need to get the boy to his family while checking the village one last time before they leave once Vangeance and the Foreigner return. 

Watching the lion violet eyes meet as Fuegoleon questions his fellow Royal and Captain. “Nozel, is something the matter?” 

Turning his head away indignantly his eyes focus on the trees ahead of them, almost dismissing his rival. “Hmph, nothing is wrong. I just see no point in wasting your conversing in such a familiar manner. Unless you’re planning something absurd.”

Eyes closing the crimson haired male gives a toothy smile to himself. “I’ll tell you as you need to know Nozel, don’t worry.” 

Scowling at the other Nozel makes no further comment as he knows Fuegoleon has something in mind. He just doesn’t know what. Hearing this exchange you feel a bit of relief, so it wasn’t just you Captain Silva was so dismissive with. 

By the time you reach the main road close to Carney it’s well after dark with a crescent moon illuminating your path. Stopping and informing the Captains as you look to Gustaph who carries Timmy on his back yet. “I’m sorry Captains I should go, but Gustaph can lead you the rest of the way back. I need to be returning home before I worry anyone further.” Hearing this the gryphon watches you and snaps his beak gently while nodding his head in understanding making you smile. “Good boy Gustaph, come home when done. You deserve a rest."

Two gazes settle on you, one friendly giving an appreciative nod while the other is dismissive and uninterested at best. Bidding the Captains farewell you take a shortcut home leaving them to go the rest of the way.

~

Now alone with your gryphon and the sleeping boy there is an unseen tension between the two. Fuegoleon is the first to break it with his calm rumbling tone. “Nozel was that really called for? She was a great help to us after all, you could have shown a bit of courtesy towards her.” 

Brows arching downward sharply Fuegoleon is given a harsh scowl. “I have shown plenty of courtesy when she assisted us, but getting involved in the fight is another matter. If she had been hurt it would-.” 

“She said it would be her own fault, she knew the possible danger of bringing us here and yet she did. Even with the view most of the town has of Magic Knights she assisted us. “ 

Gaze narrow yet Nozel stares ahead as he scoffs at the others' reasoning. “Even so, there was no need for that chatter earlier. You’re a Royal Fuegoleon and she is a mere commoner. Helpful or not she is below our concern once the mission was finished.”

Brown tufts upon his feathered head wiggling Gustaph flicks his tail and trills at Nozel annoyed as the Silver Eagles Captain watches the creature in near disbelief. Scowling at the creature as they continue forward, but he couldn’t help his thoughts wandering briefly from their mission.

~

Departing from the Captains you backtrack down the main road to Carney back to the farm. Taking a shortcut through a few fields as you finally come to a familiar patch of trees slowing your pace. At first entering the small grove you don’t see him, but with the trees thinning you spot an all too familiar figure. 

“Looks like someone was busy today. Man those Magic Knights sure are a pain, lucky thing they had you or who knows what they would have done.” A yawn passes from his lips and you freeze in place while staring. Noticing your demeanor he blinks and glances at you. “What no hello?” 

Muscles frozen, a shudder threatens to wrack through your body as you stare at Rhya. Eyes wide like a caught deer as you struggle to move let alone speak. Watching you rubbing the back of his head the man sighs blinking sleepily. “(Y/n).” Snapping out of your shock lifting your chin to regard him as he tips his head curiously “So you still don’t remember old Rhya huh?” 

Flashes of the dreams pass through your mind, but you shove them aside. This man seems to know you, but you really don’t know him. It was just a coincidence he was similar to the Rhya from your dreams. Steeling yourself finally you speak up warily trying to change the subject. “How did you know this? Have you been following me?” No matter how confident you want to sound it still didn’t stop your voice from shaking.

Lazily grinning a bit he shrugs just as energetically lacing his hands behind his head. “Well someone had to keep an eye on ya, after you ran off the first time. You were fine though and you had those Magic Knight Captains with you. After feeling your mana move so far from the village it was only natural I’d follow. Besides if you were in any real danger I would have stepped in.” 

“So you are following me.” Heart pounding you still couldn’t shake the strange feeling as part of you is wanting to trust him and part wanting to just never see this man again. “I keep telling you, I’ve never met you before. Now please just let me be.” Sighing at your answer he rubs the back of his head seeing your try to continue on your way.

“Come on, for all you know I could be some poor lost soul with nowhere to go.” Arms spread out in a friendly gesture he offers a seemingly harmless grin. “Help a guy out would ya (Y/n)?”  Steps freezing you grit your teeth, there was a chance he did need help, but then he wouldn’t be doing and saying all these weird things! For all you know he could be crazy. The familiarity was just from dejavu. 

“I’m sorry just… if you go into town there should be a place you can stay for awhile.” Choking on your words you feel horrible for turning him away, but you can’t stay a moment longer. Using your grimoire and shifting into a fox darting through the bushes while tears prick your eyes. 

~

Watching you go Rhya sighs with a troubled expression while speaking to no one in particular. “Well that could have gone better.”

 Giving a troubled smile he shakes his head, dark eyes nearly sparkling. “Even after growing up with humans you’ve really never changed have you (Y/n)?” 

Opening a portal behind himself Rhya leans back falling through the Spacial Magic rip, and it closes leaving no trace he had been there in the first place.

~ 

Vision blurred as branches and leaves whip past, you only stop seeing the lights from the farmhouse before shifting back holding in some sniffles. Composing yourself for a few moments you head inside. Family greeting you with hugs, except for your sister, as your mother asks what took so long, and you explain that things took a little longer than expected. Along with having to help Captains a bit more than you thought, but of course you leave out a few details that would be concerning. Several minutes later you quell any concerns for the most part giving your parents a hug. Despite being in your early 20s you still lived at home, but it wasn’t exactly uncommon especially being a farming family, and the fact you were an adult granted you some more leeway. But parents would be parents and naturally worry.

Still a ball of nerves you don’t eat much and pass it off to your family as just being tired. You don’t like lying, but you couldn’t exactly tell them the cause of your worries without seeming crazy. Cleaning up for bed you slip into some night clothes and fall onto your mattress. Staring at your small vanity, the mirror on top reflecting your exhausted gaze. Perhaps you are more tired than you thought, but you can’t help but let your mind wander to Rhya a moment along with the Captains. Blue eyes falling on a small wooden box you were given by your father as a child. Right now you felt a strong familiar pull to the stone inside however you can’t fight the exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. For once falling into a dreamless sleep.

~

Inside the Wizard King’s office he smiles at the four Captains in front of him. “Gentlemen thank you for your hard work. Thanks to you Carney should be getting back to normal, perhaps after your assistance the people will consider trading again with the Capital. “

Yami blinks a bit while pondering a bit. “Huh, I didn’t know that little village traded with us before.” Julius laughs a bit in response.

“Yes, they did before the incident a few years ago. The one you said the local girl informed you about. Of course when they stopped it was harder on them than us, but it’s always nice to have a diversity of goods from various places. It also shows the villages in the Forsaken Realm; we haven’t forgotten them. Now, I know you just came from there, but I would like you to check one last time to make sure everything is in order. So I expect all of you back there tomorrow morning!” Beaming brightly at them the four are dismissed. 

Leaving Yami grins while looking over the other Captains. “Well looks like we got another trip to Carney, what ya think Prissy Pants?” Knowing how the Silver Eagles Captain would feel Yami can’t help but poke at him.

Head turning indignantly Nozel scoffs while his lips turn down while watching Yami. “I don’t know what you're getting at Foreigner, but as an order from the Wizard King of course I’ll follow it. Now if you’ll excuse me, unlike some fools I have to return to my squad.” With a pointed glance at Yami it’s clear who he is talking about, but no further comments are made since the Nozel’s cape was already fluttering behind him dismissing the matter.

The other Captains departing as well to rest until they return to Carney in the morning. A similar thought running through their minds as they consider how to approach a certain question tomorrow.

[darkqueen74]

-Dez-

Was this some kind of recompense for having died in front of her? This was the second time his former best friend was laid out prostrate and seemingly dead in front of him. Dez couldn’t say that this time was any more enjoyable than the last time. At least this time he knew that she could not go into stasis and that her becoming whatever it was that she truly was now meant that she couldn’t die. Neither of those things meant it was any easier to watch, and maybe that was his punishment. Who knew? The fates and gods were fickle bastards after all. Knowing that Mithos and Thinius were extremely powerful and that Brie had been able to obtain some talismans that amplified their healing abilities did help to reassure Dez that things would soon be put right again.

Movement off to his side caught Dez’s attention as the three who were trying to heal Brie were doing their “thing”. As soon as his head turned and got a full look at Leandre’s face, he knew exactly what was going through the other male’s mind. Since his “return from the dead” and reintegration into those in Brie’s confidence, he had watched them all. He knew that there was some kind of special bond between her guard and Brie, and the look on the Demonic Nephilim’s face now said that their friend’s current state had the male in a murderous rage. Dez also knew that if there was a murder, when Brie woke up she would be in an even worse mood than just having been knocked clean out.

“Leandre, why don’t we take a moment to think.” Dez’s eyes darted back and forth between Thenasus and Leandre. From the look he saw forming on Thenasus’ face, the larger man was seeing what Dez was. Dez slapped his hand into the middle of Andronicus’ chest to get his attention too. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to head off the coming confrontation on his own, no matter how much more powerful he was than he had been before.

-Andronicus-

Andronicus felt the stupid Grigori’s fist hit his chest and was about to show him that while he may not be as powerful he could make the male hurt when he caught sight of his friend, Leandre. Instead of putting Dez on his ass, he joined the Grigori in trying to keep Leandre and Thenasus separated. In normal circumstances Thenasus would be the one that most would have bet on to win a purely physical confrontation between the two males, but this was far from normal circumstances. Andi knew that there was something between the Queen and Leandre. He’d never pushed or pried, Leandre was after all known for keeping his own counsel in most things. The past had made Leandre circumspect about sharing details of his life, let alone his thoughts. Recent events with Talia only served to reinforce why this was smart.

“Lee, it was an accident. Come on now, let’s not add more violence to this day.” Andi moved to put himself between Leandre and Thenasus. He needed to keep them separated till the others were able to heal Brie enough for her to wake up. If she was at least awake, maybe Lee would be distracted enough not to kill Thenasus.

-Leandre-

“Get out of my way Andi, I don’t want to have to hurt you.” Leandre’s jaw was set and his eyes were hard. He was going to make Thenasus hurt for not being careful. Yes, they were supposed to fight all out in sparring but there were certain rules when there weren’t full healers present.

Fingers curled into fists then straightened with each step that Leandre took towards Thenasus. The taller male was backing up, trying to avoid a confrontation, but Lendre wasn’t going to let him escape that easy. Now, if Andi would just get out of the way so he had a clear path to get things done.

-Dez-

Why did it always seem to fall on him to solve things? He had to be the one to explain that Thiniu was Talon and Talia’s dad, he was the one that had to explain the whole “Brie could have more than one mate” thing because she was a demi-godess thing and they had weird connections to things, he had to be the one to know things that were coming and to tell anyone, and now he was going to have to be the one to head of this disaster before it became an epic cluster fuck that no doubt he would get to clean up.

“Leandre, calm your tits, boy, It was an accident. I doubt Thenasus set out to bash his Queen’s brains in. Rarely does a member of the royal guard wake up in the morning and think ‘Gee, I wonder how I can piss everyone in Imperium off in one fell swoop? I know! Try and kill the Queen in training!’ Come on boy! Do not make me put you in a cell to calm your ass down.”

-Leandre-

There were few things that Dez could have said that would have gotten through the rage that had been all encompassing in Leandre’s mind; but the Grigori had found one of those things that cut through everything and had the Demonic Nephilim spinning around and now coming at him. Now all of the rage that had been directed at Thenasus was focused like a laser beam at Dez. Without knowing anything about Leandre’s past, he had found the one thing that would trigger Leandre into even greater violence than injuring Brie.

“You will NOT put me in a cell.” Lee started now to advance towards Dez. The normal blue-green of his eyes started to have a red ring around the iris. He didn’t know if he could defeat the Grigori, but Lee would die before he ever let anyone put him in a cell again.

-Dez-

“Then calm your ass down, Leandre.” Dez, unlike Thenasus, was not backing down. Someone had to stand up to Leandre and get him to listen to reason. Otherwise there was going to be a lot of violence and bloodshed, and the worst part was going to be that it would be from friendly fire. “I do not want to have to put you in a cell, but I will if I have to. Don’t make me do it, Lee.”

While Dez’s stance was set, his entire countenance speaking of resolution to stop Leandre from whatever violence and retribution he was seaking; on the inside, Dez wasn’t as assured. He knew exactly where he would teleport Leandre if he had to, but he’d prefer if the other male would just stop for a minute and realize that Mithos, Thinius, and Orpheus would have Brie patched up before too long.

-Leandre-

A vibration of power filled the air and Leandre barely felt it as Andi tried to stop him from advancing on the Grigori. Lee had developed tunnel vision and all he saw, all he heard, all he could acknowledge in the room was the smartass Grigori who was threatening him. He might end up in a cell, but he was going to make th male hurt first. Fuck going back in a cell and being anyone’s prisoner.

He reached Dez and grabbed the front of the dark button down shirt, pulling the other male til their faces were almost touching. When he spoke, his voice came out a growl, “I said that I will not go back in a cell.” He tightened his hold on the other man’s shirt and his voice dropped even lower. “If you try, you are going to hurt, and hurt bad for it.”

-Dez-

There was going to be no talking to Leandre. It was too bad, he had really hoped to be able to. That meant he was going to have to contain him. It was clear that containment was not going to go well. Dez would just have to deal with the fallout with Brie later.

“Just remember this wasn’t my choice, bro. All you had to do was calm the fuck down.” With that, Dez teleported them to the prison realm that he’d been confined to when he was “dead”.

@darkknightl

@gregoriusimmortuos

@74hybridangel