#And when I say young I mean my DOG is heavier than two of those kids for fucks sake!!!!!

[rooksnooks]

Thank fucking god that the human body is 60% liquid because if there wasn't an explanation for how you could cut me open and find burning magma in there I would just die

[plaguethewaters]

little superhero au thingie!! except the superhero part is super duper nonexistent and this chapter is litterally just cbeeduo proposal. Enjoy!

---

"You've gotta forgive me, because I'm about to get really sappy here."

Ranboo says, and Tubbo thinks it's awfully ironic. It's night, brilliant stars shining over them - the only true advantage of no public lighting at all - they're on the roof, sitting on the thickest blanket they own and huddling together for whatever warmth they can find, the few remnants of their picnic laid abandoned to the side. They've been out all evening, eating sweets and heart shaped sandwiches, because Ranboo had always been a little extra. He thinks, we've gotten past the sappiness threshold a whole lot ago, and also, there's no way whatever you've got to say could be worse than this romance novel ass- situation.

His hand is taken into Ranboo's, who starts rubbing at his knuckles with his thumb. He does that often, when he's nervous - but also, Tubbo muses, he's nervous about pretty much every single aspect of his life, so this isn't anything new. Then he starts talking, with a way too big, almost suspicious smile on his face, his voice low.

"You know I don't- I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am now. I didn't know this kind of happy even existed, I think, not until you two came into my life." His gaze is soft and, as previously anticipated, unworldly sappy. "You've made me truly content with my life in entirely new ways, and continue to do so every single day. I can't really imagine my future without you in it."

"You're making this sound like a marriage proposal, bossman." Tubbo giggles, just to lighten the mood. Mostly because he's right, and he does not know if he could survive the weight of a love so, so fucking ginormous, settled on his shoulder's like the world's heavier and softer mountain, not without a little comedic relief.

"I mean..." Ranboo kisses his hand, doing a so-and-so gesture with his free one, "Kind of?"

The mountain doesn't move, and Tubbo's suffocating. This is not how he imagined he would die.

"I-uh. sorry?" he manages to shutter, while his mind helpfully supplies him with a series of his possible obituaries. "Young man dies of Too Much Emotion.". or "Romantic relationship actually a trap, Villain dies because Boyfriend loves him too much." (Boyfriend? Fiancè????? What the absolute hell.)

"I mean, i mean not now, obviously that's- that would be a little too much to dump on you so soon." Ranboo laughs, clearly as nervous as he looks. "Just, like, I've prepared a whole speech, goddammit, let me say it properly."

Tubbo sees the light. His heart is definitely going to explode.

"Okay I've, I've started this a little wrong. Because I said, right, I said, I can't imagine my life without you, but it's more like, like, I couldn't have imagined my life without you. I would've never even tried. I don't think I realized I could imagine a life for myself outside- outside of hero work. I either died at fifteen - or, or seventeen, or twenty, or whatever limit I decided to give myself that year - or got an eternity of work, no escape at all. Then, then you, and Tommy, and suddenly I'm dreaming of white picket fences and wedding bells and large breed dogs and- did you know I was a writer? When I was little, I used to have notebooks over notebooks full of short horror stories, and then I stopped because with housework and normal work and trying not to starve I never had the time - you've made me want to write again. You made me realize I could dream, and follow those dreams and succeed."

The speech comes out rushed, all too many words confined in all too little space, too little time. He sounds like he's afraid if he doesn't speak soon enough, someone is going to come and steal his voice, leaving his feelings forever entrapped.

His gaze shifts, and now he's staring directly into Tubbo's eyes. The intensity is overwhelming, oppressive, painful. His eyes bore into Tubbo's skull with the force of a drill, carving a hole from his eye socket to the center of his brain, then making a little cave in it and resting in it's center.

"I don't- marriage right now would not be a good idea, I don't think, but? Maybe, in the future... Will you marry me?"

Their stares break, and the parasite removes itself from Tubbo's poor, poor brain. Then he's playing with Tubbo's fingers, looking blushy and shy to the side - because of course he's nervous now, after completely destroying him, leaving unable to think anything but an infinite sting of I love yous and wondering how on earth he got this lucky and fuck. Tubbo would die a thousand times over if it got him to look this pretty again.

What the hell was he supposed to say now? He isn't, and has never really been good with words, not when actions and punches have always done the job just as well - how could he speak now, having been hit in the face with a confession like that? With the, the- he would call it the burden, he guesses, but that's just entirely the wrong word - the responsibility, the knowledge he's the reason Ranboo was able to grow and get through all of that, given to him like it is no big deal. He would've never thought of that. In fact, he was worried he'd been doing way too little support wise, lacking the knowledge and emotional maturity needed to properly help someone like that.

Like even now, after the whole speech, he still isn't all that convinced. All he ever did was love Ranboo - which isn't news, and would continue not to be news as far as he's concerned. He loves him, will love him even if he somewhat disagrees with the confession, because how could he be possibly worth so much in Ranboo's eyes, who deserves so much more than he could possibly give, and he loves him so much - but he does not know how to say any of that.

So, he just kisses him.

And again, and again, trying to push into his lips anything that cannot fit into his mouth and failing still, but nobody's to say he doesn't fucking try. When he stops, it's because his traitorous body runs out of air to breathe, but he still keeps as close as possible, resting his forehead on Ranboo's. If he has to stop to breathe, they'll fucking share the breaths too.

----

Ranboo has learned, by now, that Tubbo kisses like he's fighting.

Mostly by way of focus and determination: he kisses with the same kind of concentration one might have when operating a sniper rifle - or, much more topically, when defusing a tickling bomb. There's no second in which he's idle, any rest clearly ruled by strict necessity rather than any want or will. When he does retreat, surrendering finally to the need of air, he doesn't part neither far nor long, touching their foreheads together or breathing in his neck, his hands mapping all available territory to make way for later exploration.

Ranboo has seen him battle, has fought him directly in the past, and he finds no difference between the crushing adrenaline of a missed punch, of wrestling for a loaded gun, of running towards a lit fuse - and whatever he is feeling right now.

A hand finds its way to his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh, and the little air he'd managed to keep in his poor lungs gets knocked out of him. Maybe they are in battle, actually. Maybe killing him is Tubbo's way of saying no.

Because - and he's said this already, but his brain is too scrambled to pay attention to something as utterly unimportant as repetition (anything less important than this). Because he's used to Tubbo, to the way he seems to equate love and war, to the almost violence of his affections but this feels... different, somehow. Somewhat. He's not focused enough to register what's actually changed.

Maybe it's the way his mind had already been lost in the anxiety of the moment, before his little speech, and the suspense for an answer now; or maybe it's just the thick layer of tears evenly coating each of their faces.

Which, by the way, does not help to ease his worries at all, to be entirely honest. Not that - don't get him wrong, it's not that the kissing isn't nice (heavenly, wonderful, amazing, showstopping and a plethora of other words that do not even come close) but it doesn't really enlighten him as to what Tubbo's answer is going to be. Is this a "Yes of course I'm going to marry you" type of kiss or more, like, "No how dare you ask that I'm kissing you just so you shut up" deal?

(Now, a normal person, in a hypothetical fictional audience, would probably butt in right about now with, let's say, a text to speech device of some sort. And they would say, with all the confidence of anonymity, they'd say: "Ranboo, this is a really stupid dilemma. Why would he ever choose to reject with a kiss? Nobody does that ever." And they would probably be right! But the hand is still on his thigh, and another hand is rubbing slow circles into his waist, and the kiss is still happening, so forgive him if his reasonings aren't all that rational right about now.)

He manages to detach himself eventually - not easily, not even particularly willingly - for the few moments absolutely necessary to regain a couple braincells and learn how to use his own mouth again.

"Uh- U, I, Is this-" Not to use it well, mind you, but he isn't going to complain. he'll take what he can get and deal with it. "Uhu-"

"What was that, bossman?" Tubbo giggles, voice still raspy from the assault to his lips, and Ranboo finds it somewhat insulting; loquacity is an absurd standard to hold for the guy currently being lobotomized.

"Wh- was that, uh" Tubbo's hand is slowly rubbing at his cheek in what was probably meant to be encouragement, but only manages to scramble his brains even more. "Was that a yes?

"No."

His stomach plummets.

He knows, logically, that he should not have expected anything. They've been dating for not even a year, and this was sprung on Tubbo so suddenly, and everyone always say to never ask if you aren't sure your partner will say yes but Ranboo will never be sure of anything in his life (at least not how he was sure this would've worked) and he needed to ask like, physically. And at the end of the day it's not like this is gonna mean anything for their relationship, because ring or not he knows Tubbo loves him (maybe, hopefully, because he cannot begin to imagine the contrary, it would tear him apart), but he had dared to hope-

"No," Tubbo continues, "I've just started making out with you, because that is how normal people reject proposals in real life." He's smiling, still caressing his cheek, and Ranboo wants to die a little less. He pointedly ignored the disembodied voice of the fictional audience member reminding him how they were right. (Just because you were doesn't mean you gotta act mean about it. Meanie.)

He groans, quite loudly, so that all of his horrible pain is heard, and hides his shameful face in the warm crook of Tubbo's neck.

"Never start a sentence like that ever again, for the love of god."

Tubbo laughs, bright and loud. "Oh, you poor baby", he croons, mockingly. Ranboo is being made fun of, but the guy doing it is exceptionally beautiful and also his fiance now, so all the haters are quite obviously just jealous.

"You're right though," Tubbo continues, "I wasn't quite finished answering."

Whatever smart, flirty and witty reply Ranboo could have given him gets swallowed by a chocking sound, as the push of lips and the warmth of hands pull him onto yet another battlefield.

---

"You know what would be really, really funny actually?" Tubbo asks, after everything is done. He's basically sitting in Ranboo's lap now, only one lonely knee left hanging on the blanket. They cuddle together tighter, mostly because they want to, but also because it got so cold on that roof once the sun went down and now it feels far below freezing.

"Hmmmm..." he rumbles, a content rumble (NOT. a purr. shut up.) so loud it almost hides his voice. "No, what would?"

"If we just pretended to be married already." Tubbo sits up a little bit.

"Just like. Hear me out."

"I'm hearing, I'm hearing."

"Okay, for one - we've got like, another full year before we would be able to actually get married and you and I both know I've got zero patience to wait that long. And we're like, super wanted criminals, so nobody would want to marry us even if we were legal, right?"

"Absolutely correct."

"And also. Think of the Bitches faces when we get into battle against them and we have wedding bands on, calling each other 'husband' and shit"

A pause.

"Oh, oh my god" They both start laughing at the same time, falling back into the blankets in a mountain of little giggles. The thought is, as expected, absolutely hilarious, and with the added giddiness of being able to be husbands, of loving each other that much - it doesn't look like they'll be stopping anytime soon.

The moon is high in the sky, the cold is still frigid, and their laughs are loud enough for several noise complaints. Tonight, they hug each other and go to bed. Tomorrow, chaos would begin for real.

[mrssimply]

16th: Silence

There are many drawings of catboy!Johnny on twitter, and no I think it's very fitting because Johnny is totally a stray cat. It's a metaphor I've used many times before, so maybe it was time I embraced it fully. On my list of ideas, this one was supposed to be... so much more than that. But every time I thought about writing yet another silverdyne long fic, I would lose steam 'cause I think the last one, To the Day I die, was like a purge and I couldn't find energy to write another one.

But it was still in my head still demanding to be known so here it is, just a glimpse of what I had in mind.

Oh, and despite being about cat!persons, there is no concept of heat (not at this moment in the story I had in mind), and it's neither funny nor sexy because well... I love complicated things ;) It's T-rated.

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

There is someone slumped against Milt’s door. Kerry thinks it’s a man, maybe a few years older than him. He’s pale, and way too thin, like he hasn’t had a good meal in ages. His skin is covered in bruises, some old, some new, and Kerry recognizes the kind: he’s been beaten up. He is naked except for a pair of ratty jeans, and Kerry would bet he lost the rest of his clothes in the fights that got him those many bruises. There is blood at the corner of his mouth, and tickling out of his right ear. Kerry is fascinated by the ear, because it’s not a human ear, it’s a cat ear. Covered in fur black as the stranger’s hair, Kerry would have missed it, if not for the blood. It twitches weakly as rain falls on it, a sluggish reflex. There are other particular features on the stranger, like his tail, limp and lifeless between his legs. The boy is sagged sideways, allowing Kerry to see where the boy’s skin slowly transforms into fur as it forms the tail. Last notable thing is his left arm: it’s a heavy piece of cyberware, military grade, crudely sewn into his flesh. The chrome flashes with the neon’s sign flickering above them that says there is a ripper’s clinic here.

Kerry lives in the building above the clinic with two of his older sisters, and the boy is literally on his way to access the back entrance, which he prefers to use. Crouching in front of the young man, Kerry extends an arm to brush the tip of the fur-covered ear. It twitches again, evading his intrusive touch. 

Biting his lower lip, Kerry makes a decision. 

Five minutes later, Kerry is back with Milt, the ripperdoc. 

“Damn”, the man whispers and it doesn’t reassure Kerry. 

“Is he gonna be alright?”

“I dunno. Help me get him inside.”

-

The boy is heavier than he looks, so it’s panting and heaving that they push him on the medbed. Diagnostics start to run as soon as Milt turns on the scanner. Kerry looks at the monitor and the cat person intermittently. 

Milt mutters about dehydration and undernourishment, about broken ribs and concussions. He straps an IV to the stranger and injects a cocktail of meds and stim to go with the fluids.

Then, the doc starts looking at the arm.

“Arasaka,” he says, more to himself than to Kerry. Hanging around his neck are dog tags, or well — cat tags, Kerry supposes.

“RJL-20.103”,” the doc reads. 

“Is that a code or something?" Kerry asks.

"Designation. Company and platoon, probably,” he explains while pointing to the two numbers separated by a dot, “and then his personal ID.”

“No name?”

“Don’t think they give them names...”

Kerry lowers his eyes. Cat people were first engineered by the army, to combine human intelligence with the agility, strength and endurance of big cats. Later, when the war was “won”, they sold the patent to interested private corps, which birthed them for commercial purposes, mostly for the pleasure business.

The boy is obviously military oriented, the tags are a clue if the arm wasn’t sufficient, and if he’s here alone, then that means he escaped.

“Deserted” would have been the term for any normal soldier, but cats are not citizens, they are property of the army, or the Corp which birthed them. They don’t get the same rights, their purpose is to live and die on the battlefield. There is an entire army corp with just cats, and they get deployed in the most dangerous zones. They are used as cannon fodder, and stay simple soldiers all their short lives since the officers' positions are given to humans.

Kerry watches as Milt tenderly moves a lock of hair away from the boy’s cheek, and remembers the doc’s son enlisted some years ago, and that Milt has had no news ever since. Kerry doesn’t remember how the conversation went, but he knows Milt and his son, Cody, parted in anger. People that enlist nowaday are guaranteed a good position, the field work is mostly done by cat people, so ambitious young folk try their chance at war, thinking themselves safe from harm in command tents. The doc was opposed to his son enlisting, but Cody felt the army would give him better, and easier prospects than staying here to learn his father’s practice.

Milt sighs, says they now have to wait and see, and goes to fetch a blanket. Kerry watches over the stray. He is filthy, but Kerry can tell he would be real pretty usually. They almost always are, with genes handpicked for their purpose. That one got long dark lashes, the echoes of a smirk on his thin lips, and the beginning of a beard. He can’t be over twenty.

Kerry brushes his fingers behind the cat’s ear, stroking the soft fur, fascinated by the creature resting on the bed.

-

Kerry fell asleep on the couch, lured by the warmth and the regular beeps of the medical equipment of the clinic. He came back after dinner to see if their rescue was awake, but was informed by Milt there had been no change. He practiced on his guitar for a while, and then the tiredness of the day caught up with him. Since he turned eighteen, his sisters have asked Kerry to help them with the rent, saying he’s now a man and has to do his share: he can’t lay around all day just playing guitar, since that doesn’t pay for food. Yet. Kerry has big dreams.

Dreams that are violently interrupted by an aborted shout, followed by a growl. He opens his eyes in time to see the catboy jump/fall from the med bed, tearing up at the tube Milt linked into him and kicking the equipment around in his wild thrashing.

“Hey, wow, calm down!” Kerry speaks while getting up. Intense dark eyes zero on him before the young catboy crouches, ears flattening on his skull. He stills, body brimming with tension except for his tail which is swishing slowly behind him. Kerry raises his hands in the air.

“It’s ok, you’re safe here. You’re in a ripperdoc clinic.”

The catboy’s head wipes around, maybe searching for the doc, or just finally realizing where he is. It doesn’t relax him in the slightest, but he looks less ready to jump at Kerry.

Milt appears in the doorframe, probably alerted by the ruckus. When the stray sees him, he finally relaxes and rises slowly to his feet. His ears perk up, although one stays bent toward Kerry, as if keeping him in check while his attention is focused on the doc.

“You’re awake, good.”

Milt comes forward, outwardly relaxed. The catboy follows him with his eyes.

“I can remove this,” the doc indicates, pointing to the tube and cable he linked to his patient for diagnosis. 

After a moment of hesitation, the young soldier leans against the med med and extends his arms. Milt removes the IV, and the wire connecting to the chrome arm. 

“How do you feel?” he asks, but gets no reply. 

The catboy is looking at Milt very intently and Kerry even catches him taking a sniff. He swallows, glances at Kerry and nods to himself like he’s reached a conclusion.

He hops on the bed and takes off his left boot. Kerry sees him manipulate the heel until a small compartment opens. He tips the boot and something falls into his waiting palm. Too curious, Kerry approaches and the cat’s gaze pins him for a second before deeming him as no threat. The experience is still jarring, but Kerry is no chicken so he comes closer anyway.

It’s another set of dog tags, and these ones are more classical, displaying the soldier’s last name, the initials of his name, blood type, the acronym “USMC” and a religious preference (which indicates “none”).

The catboy hands it to Milt, who looks at the tags with shock. Kerry takes a better look and feels his stomach fall, because the last name reads Nauman. The doc takes the little metal plates with trembling fingers and reads the rest of the data. His mouth parts around a silent sob, and it’s all the confirmation Kerry needs. 

Cody was about five years older than Kerry, and he dated one of his sisters for a while, so the young man remembers him fondly. He had no musical sense, but he could talk about the history of music for ages. He was one of the coolest guys Kerry ever knew and his death feels strange. Like an impossibility.

On the bed, the catboy looks sad. His head is bowed, eyes hidden from view but his ears and tail telegraph his emotion clearly. Beside the obvious grief, there is something else on the stranger's face. Regrets, anger, guilt…  A mix of all three. It distracts Kerry from his own emotions until he hears Milt’s harsh breathing.

Both young men catch the tears on the doc’s face, silently running as he continues to look at the tags, and they tense, unprepared to deal with such display of emotion. The soldier in particular looks absolutely terrified, eyes widening and panicking as he finds himself caught in the grief of a father.

“Thank you,” Milt breathes, barely hiding the sob in his voice. “Thank you for bringing me this I… How…” He stops, closes his eyes and turns away. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, before practically running out of the room.

Kerry and the catboy look at him go, helpless to help. Kerry feels tears stinging at the back of his eyes and blinks furiously. The news hasn’t really sunk yet, but it feels like a gaping hole opened inside his chest. 

He is pulled out of his grief by the stray putting his shoe back on. Kerry looks at him doing it with empty eyes, and it’s only when the young man jumps on his feet that he reacts.

“You’re going?”

The other nods warily, looking at him with suspicion.

“You can’t go yet, Milt… Milt will want to talk to you, you… What happened? How did it happen?”

The cat looks distinctly uncomfortable, his face is closed off but his ears are back to being flat against his skull and his tail is rigid between his legs. He eyes the door and tension fills his body gradually, like he is seriously thinking about bolting out.

Kerry catches his wrist tightly, making the catboy twist toward him with a snarl. Startled, the other boy released him with a gasp.

“Sorry,” he mutters as fresh tears rise to his waterline. He lowers his head to hide them, chest feeling tight, like the rejection is breaking something inside of him.

The cat sighs and fidgets before circling back to the med bed, hovering uncertainly. The strange feeling inside Kerry settles, and he looks back to where Milt disappeared. He lives upstairs with his wife, and Kerry supposes he will need time alone with her to process the news.

The two young men look at each other in awkward silence, when suddenly, the catboy’s stomach grumbles loudly. Kerry smiles faintly and turns to take his guitar back.

“We should find you something to eat, c’mon.”

He gestures for the other boy to follow, and after a moment of hesitation, he steps behind Kerry. 

-

The catboy took a tour of the flat while Kerry reheated the pasta his sister Emma made earlier. She works the night shift as a dispatcher for the trauma team’s med center, so she cooked before going to work. Kerry ate with his oldest sister Malika while the stray was still sleeping, eager to get back to watching him. The moment the leftovers are served on a plate and put in front of the stranger, he seems to forget all about his wariness and digs into the plate with abandon. It’s a bit obscene to watch, but Kerry can’t tear his eyes away; he really must have been starved. After a few bites, he slows down and Kerry can tell it’s at the price of a great effort but he seems to know that eating too fast will just make him sick. He frequently glances at his host, and during such instances, Kerry gets a better look at his eyes. They are of a rich dark brown, but the pupil is slit like one of a pet cat, and the young guitarist feels a bit like a mouse when that gaze stares at him intensely.

Kerry drinks his Nicola in silence, and can’t help but note that the catboy won’t touch his, but he drinks the tap water from the jug next to the can eagerly. In silence, Kerry observes his various bruises and wounds. Some look really gross, still an angry red, even though they can’t be that recent. Those around the arms are the most impressive: the skin there looks tender and sensitive, but not in a good way. He is also really dirty, with stripes of dry sweat visible on his torso, and he smells really bad too.

“What about a shower?” Kerry offers once the plate has been mostly cleared. The catboy tenses, looks around, seems to weigh his options before nodding with a displeased expression. Obviously, he’s not super keen on the idea, but he’s also pragmatic: he doesn’t know when the opportunity will present itself again.

-

Kerry shows him the bathroom before going to his room to fetch clothes: a sweatpant and an oversized shirt. Even if the cat is really underweight, his frame speaks of military training and his shoulders are wider than the average male of his age. When Kerry reappears in the bathroom, the other boy hasn't moved an iota, struck looking at his reflection and touching his jaw length black hair like he doesn’t recognise it. 

“Here, that should suit you. C’mon, I’ll show you how the shower works.”

He gets the water on slightly hotter than he prefers, and steps back when he thinks everything is set. Turning around, he loses what he wanted to say, looking at the catboy standing naked under the shitty light. He is fucking hung!

Kerry’s mouth opens in surprise and he can’t tear his eyes from the tableau; they really make them perfect. The stray smiles slyly when he catches him looking and his expression deepens when Kerry blushes and averts his gaze promptly. 

“Ok, I’ll leave you to it,” the host declares, passing by his guest, only to be yanked back and pushed into the shower. He stammers, winces when his head collides with the tiles, and sputters when the hot stream hits him in the face. 

When he finds his bearings enough to open his eyes and takes stock of the situation, the catboy is still holding him fast against the wall of the shower, and he growls when Kerry tries to disentangle himself.

The sound prompts a shiver to run down Kerry’s spine, and he forces himself to relax, hands going lax on his sides. They look at each other for a moment before the catboy relaxes somewhat, but he still holds Kerry firmly against the wall.

“Ok,” the young man breathes, “ok I’m staying,” he says and the other nods like he’s happy he made himself clear. Kerry doesn’t really understand what happened, but sure, he can stay here, it’s just super uncomfortable in his wet jeans. 

Meanwhile, the boy is back to looking at the door, like he expects to be attacked any minute and Kerry finally understands: he’s here to watch the stranger’s back while he is in a vulnerable position. 

“Can I just get rid of my clothes?” he asks and after a glance and a moment of hesitation, the cat steps back.

Kerry keeps his boxers on like they are a last barrier against the strangeness of the situation, and pours shampoo in his hands before slowly raising them to his guest’s hair, stopping with a questioning gaze.

Again, there is a moment of hesitation before the young ex-soldier lowers his head a fraction and Kerry starts massaging his scalp. He keeps an eye on the door for a while, but before long, Kerry sees his shoulders drop in relaxation. Huffing out a small laugh, Kerry continues his massage and even chances to rub the boy’s nape. 

It takes a small minute, but Kerry suddenly realizes there is a soft vibration under his fingers and he stills. With the shower running, he can’t hear it but he is pretty sure the boy is purring. He starts his massage again, trying to act like nothing happened, persuaded that remarking on it would make the cat stop.

Slowly, the boy raises his head and lets the water wash the shampoo away, allowing Kerry to wash the rest of his upper body. His gaze looks hazy, a far cry from the  previous tension, even if he jumps a bit everytime fingers brush against his scars. 

Shyly, Kerry stops when he reaches his guest’s waist, and the other boy seems to get out of his trance. He smirks and raises a challenging eyebrow at Kerry, who colors even more with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He accepts the challenge and wash the rest of his guest’s body with jerkier movements than before. He takes mean pleasure in grabbing his cock a bit too tight and even stroking it once under the pretense of cleaning it. The catboy’s expression is smug, even if he blink and jerks forward when Kerry gets to his cock. 

“There, all clean,” the host declares with a glare, taking the shower head to rinse him, and making sure to direct the stream right in his face. The ex-soldier sputters and growls, but Kerry can tell he’s not really angry. They get out of the shower and dry themselves in silence.

With a head movement, Kerry brings the catboy to his room.

“This is my sisters’ room. They’re not here. Emma is working and Malika is out with her boyfriend,” he explains as they pass the door in the corridor.

At the mention of Malika’s name, the boy perks up.

“Yeah,” Kerry says sadly, “she and Cody were together for a while. He told you about her?”

The catboy nods and continues looking at the door with something of a sad expression.

“You liked him?”

A shrug, but Kerry can tell they were close, maybe a bit like what Cody used to have with Kerry. The thought brings a fresh wave of grief to Kerry, who swallows thickly and continues to his room. He will deal with the emotions later, he doesn't want to right now.

-

In Kerry’s small bedroom, the two guitars he owns have a prime position. The one he had downstairs is his most recent acquisition. His sisters think he bought it thanks to doing more hours at Caliente, but in truth Kerry klepped it. His sisters understand nothing about music, so they didn’t recognise the quality of the instrument. The other one belonged to his father, also a good brand, though that one is really vintage. Both are electric, and there is an amp waiting in between. 

The cat immediately takes an interest now that he is not in survival mode, and Kerry wonders if he can play. He sits on his bed and pats the spot next to him before grabbing his father’s axe.

The boy sits gingerly next to him, still taking in the rest of the room, but his attention zeroes on Kerry when he starts playing. The first notes of Depeche Mode’s Enjoy The Silence float in the quiet of the flat, and despite the amp being set to medium, it sounds really loud. 

The boy listens intently, ears perking and tail tense as he looks at Kerry’s fingers on the guitar’s neck. 

“You know how to play?” Kerry asks, never stopping to play. 

A swish of tail, and then a tiny nod.

“You know that one?”

Both ears twitch back, like he is hesitating again. 

“Take the other one if you wanna,” Kerry offers and that seems to decide his guest. He grabs the axe and takes his time admiring the quality of the work. Kerry can tell he is impressed and he grins, recognising someone who knows his guitars.

When he starts playing, it’s obvious the cat is skilled: his technique is good, the rhythm is perfect, and he even adds some personal style to it. Kerry is mesmerized, and he’s clearly not prepared for what happens next.

The boy starts to sing.

His voice is low and rough, like he hasn’t spoken in a month or two, and it waivers as he tries to find the right pitch. It’s unequal, and the process looks painful but he plows through it and it’s the most beautiful thing Kerry has ever heard.

As the chorus nears, Kerry snaps out of it and starts playing again, even joining him in the singing. When they finish the song, they both linger on the last notes and Kerry can’t help but grin.

“You can speak.”

The catboy smiles smugly and winks.

“I’m Kerry,” the host says, realizing they never exchanged names.

“I know. Cody said you were like a little brother to him.”

Kerry looks down and bites his lip.

“Yeah, he really was the big brother I never had.”

His voice is rough again, sorrow making the words difficult to get out. The cat shifts on the bed, uncomfortable. When Kerry glances at him, he seems lost in thought, sorrow threatening to take him under, too.

“He was my captain. Only decent officer ‘round. He really cared about us.”

His voice is but a whisper, and when he finishes, his tail swish back and forth nervously, like he’s said too much.

“Do you have a name?” Kerry asks next, trying to bury the sadness.

The boy shrugs.

“RJL, that’s how they referred to me. But Cody called me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” Kerry repeats and the other young man stares at him intensely, a small smile lifting his mouth. The host’s expression rises to match, and the smiles transform into grins, reflecting the elation they both feel for reasons they can’t yet explain.

The moment is interrupted by the doorbell chiming. It’s Milt, asking to speak to Johnny. Taking a deep breath, the catboy accepts, ears low and tail curled around his leg. Two hours later, Johnny climbs the fire escape to knock on Kerry’s window, tells him Milt wants him to stay with him for now, until they can make him papers by taking advantage of Night City liberal regulations about cat persons. For lack of a better option, Johnny said yes, he would stay, but just for a while. 

-

Kerry was already in bed, tossing and turning, so he scoots back to give some space to his new friend, and ignores his heart when it races as the other boy lies down next to him. They talk until the wee hours of morning, avoiding the painful subjects and concentrating on music, until Johnny falls asleep under Kerry’s attentive gaze.

In hindsight, Kerry will know this is the moment he fell in love. But right now, he knows nothing about the pain and trials they’re gonna face, together and alone. He knows nothing about what Johnny will accomplish for cat people and the world, and how extreme he will get to achieve his goals. He knows nothing about the depth of the emotions he will experience for Johnny, and the destructive devotion he will endure for him. He knows nothing about how the intensity of his love will be matched, though nearly never acknowledged by his friend. He knows nothing about how dark some days will get, but that in the end, it will be worth it. For now, Kerry just watches Johnny sleep, watches his ears twitch as he dreams, his tail curled around his friend’s waist possessively.

Wows are spoken To be broken Feelings are intense Words are trivial Pleasures remain So does the pain Words are meaningless And forgettable 

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very  Unnecessary They can only do harm

[appleciders]

Rachel + Leah + Water, the Director’s Cut!

Okay, so I made this gifset exploring Rachel and Leah and the ocean, but because there’s a ten gif limit and a major point of gifsets is for them to look nice, I had to sacrifice a lot of the behind the scenes thoughts and initial versions that came along the way. I still wanted to talk about them though, because I found a lot of them really cool, so I figured I’d stick all that in this post. It’s gonna get long, so you can find the rest under the cut!

So first up, we have Leah as we first see her in the water. (I’m using shitty screenshots because tumblr has a 2mb limit for gifs on text posts and I don’t feel like compressing these down lmao.) Here, she’s face-down, unconscious, floating on a fragment of the plane. This is the first time we see any of the girls in the water.

As Leah gives her dramatic speech talks to the detectives, we see flashbacks to the girl’s lives pre-island. There we see that one of them already has a very strong relationship with the water already, in her before-life: Rachel.

Rachel, as we know, is a diver. We see her take a magnificent tumble into the pool, but when she surfaces, her coach is sternly head-shaking. She corrects Rachel’s form, and after she walks away, Rachel echoes the correction, clearly frustrated with herself. 

Back to Leah. We next see Leah waking up on her lil chunk of flotsam. When she realizes what the hell’s going on, she does what we all would do and starts screaming in terror.

Her panic gets interrupted by Jeannette’s classic Raise Your Glass ringtone. (This was my alarm for two years in high school, and when I watched this for the first time I did have an out-of-body experience). She swims her way over to the Hello Kitty suitcase and—irrationally—unzips it, but we’ll cut her some slack because she’s in some serious shock. As she tries to get the phone, it slips through her fingers and starts spiraling down to the bottom of the ocean. She dives after it.

Unfortunately, she quickly runs out of air and has to give up. She then spots Jeannette floating nearby, checks her out, judges her to be “just a little roughed up,” and then sees land and has a big oh-thank-fuck moment. Because we saw Gretchen’s team placing all of the girls, we know that Linh and Leah were the only two that were put out in the open water. The other girls were put in the beach, or, in Martha’s case, near the shore. This was probably done to quell some of Leah’s suspicions about the crash, but it does give me a couple questions about how they got the other girls wet—did they hose them all down? Pour a couple buckets over their heads? Bob each of them up and down a couple times in a big net like fries in a fryer?? 

Anyway, not important. 

Next that we see, Leah has pulled Jeannette/Linh in from the water. (My Australian parents, who can never pass up an opportunity to give ocean safety tips, chimed in at this point in our first watch to say “See how she’s doing it! You always want to hold someone from behind and pull them in that way. Good job, well done.” So there’s some approval for you, Leah.) As Leah nears the shore, Dot and Toni come tearing in and they help pull the two of them out. 

The rest of the episode after that really only concerns fresh water—Toni and Shelby set out in search of it, to no avail, and Nora helpfully plugs Diet Coke reminds us multiple times that sugar’s heavier than water, so “sugar sinks.” We do set up a goal for the next couple episodes, though: Rachel says, “I'm gonna swim out to the plane tomorrow. See if I can find anything,” and Leah volunteers to come with. Rachel gives her a nod of respect.

Moving on to episode two, we have Rachel and Leah’s (iconic) first real conversation. Rachel says she’s still going out to the wreckage. Leah looks out and looks back at her, incredulous, and says, “Rachel, the water’s insane.” Here’s a big recurring association—the water and “insanity.” (I use insanity here because that’s the language they use, along with psycho/crazy. In no way does that reflect my actual beliefs about their behavior nor am I condoning the way they use those words.) Leah points out the rip current (“well done,” said my mum), and explains her very brief stint as a norcal surfer. Rachel still looks set on going, but then Leah says:

Turns out, Leah can be as ripe with foreshadowing as Fatin. This marks the appearance of their second main association with the ocean—death. After she says this, Leah turns Rachel’s attention inland, and the two agree to climb a big hill to scope out their situation.

Episode two is also obviously Rachel’s episode, so we see a lot of her relationship with diving. 

We see her plunge over and over and over again, drilling technique and form, but despite all her hard work, we learn her coach advised her to quit the team. Instead, Rachel throws herself in twice as hard, and ends up with an eating disorder. By the time the nationals come around, she’s too physically weak to dive safely, and she ends up hitting her head as she goes down. She surfaces in the pool with blood flowing around her.

She refuses to see that as the end of her diving career. She says she’s gonna “get back out there” and “be fucking great again” and she tells Nora at the end of the episode that she needs her to let her believe that.

In episode three, we finally see Leah and Rachel’s trip out to the plane! Nora comes along with them, her relationship with Rachel smoothed over after the events of ep two. “Nora’s a good swimmer,” Rachel explains as she invites her, “We were both water babies.” Water’s clearly been central to Nora and Rachel’s identities since they were really young. 

The three of them make their escape from the rest of the girls as the topic of building a shelter comes up. “Not interested in putting down roots!” Rachel calls. In keeping with the elements theme, Rachel isn’t looking to be grounded. She climbs super high into the air and she dives deep into the water, but earth isn’t her thing. (See: the quicksand scene. Whoops.)

Anyway, the three of them paddle out into the water. Rachel dives down, scopes out the plane, tells Nora she doesn’t expect her to “fucking free dive in open water,” and then looks to Leah and asks if she’s ready. Leah reluctantly agrees. 

We get our first shot Rachel swimming down into the ocean and our second shot of Leah (first the phone, second the plane). In the wreckage of the plane, they discover the black box, affixed to the wall. They keep trying to wrench it free, but it’s stuck, and Leah—who’s primary activity is, like, reading—keeps having to surface for air. Rachel gets frustrated and grabs her leg, holding her down. 

Leah screams and fights, but Rachel doesn’t let go. We cut away, and when we see them again, they’ve emerged victorious (Rachel) and drowned as dogs after a bath (Leah and Nora) with the black box in hand. Later, Leah mutters the above line to Fatin, calling Rachel a “psychopath.” For those keeping score at home, here’s where we refer back to the association between water and “insanity.”

In episode four, the ocean benevolently bestows a bag of takis upon Nora, and we have our whole shelter-building shebang. It’s all very land-based until Leah and Fatin go head to head, which ends with Fatin smearing her blood all over Leah’s face. Leah, with her usual flair, strips off her clothes as she walks into the ocean. She stays down there, passively letting the water wash the blood from her face.

This shot parallels a couple things. First, the drifting blood visually parallels Rachel in the pool after her diving injury. Second, we have Rachel staring out at the water where Leah’s disappeared and going, “Man, that is some real Virginia Woolf-type shit.” Dot has no fucking clue what she means, so Fatin interprets: “It means that bitch is crazy. She said you were the psychopath of the group.” Now it’s Leah who’s done something in the water that’s been deemed insane. The water and “insanity;” the water and accusations of insanity within their relationship. 

Those accusations pop up in episode five, but the episode is pretty focused on the inland search for Fatin, and revolves around fresh water, not salt water. (That could be a whole nother post lol.) It’s in episode six where we again see these two return to the ocean. 

Rachel is diving in the ocean! For fun! She’s picking up pretty shells (which granted isn’t the safest thing to do in the pacific, cone snails are not our friends), and she’s grinning, and she’s generally enjoying herself. With the, uh, finale situation, we’re probably not gonna get to see her smile for a bit, which is sad, because she should get to do this more often! This shot visually echoes her diving for the plane and Leah diving for the phone, except she can be in a better mood because there is no end goal. 

So she goes diving, ends up finding a bunch of mussels, gathers ‘em up, and brings ‘em back to camp. They all chow down, but wind up with serious food poisoning. Martha and Toni ring death’s doorbell a couple of times. Rachel blames herself—she’s the one that went swimming out there, she brought the mussels back. Again, we see that connection between the ocean and death.

And that association comes back bright an early in ep seven! The tide surges higher than they’ve ever seen, taking down their shelter and leaving them all scrambling. 

While Leah convinces Fatin that her life is more important than her suitcase, Rachel is left with a decision: help Nora, screaming to her from where she’s clinging to a rock for dear life, or grab the black box. In a move that contrasts Toni’s immediate and unquestioning aid of Martha, Rachel picks the black box. 

After, when they’re debriefing, Nora’s quick to bring it up. She doesn’t hide her hurt. “It happened so fast,” she says, “we all acted irrationally. Like Fatin, who jumped into a rip current to save her toothbrush. Or Rachel, who left me for fucking dead.” I think this counts as a double whammy for the “insanity” and death count—I think “acted irrationally” is as close as Nora gets to calling anyone crazy, and is honestly a better descriptor of all the other instances of “insanity” that we’ve seen, and the ocean was the source of the very real risk to Nora’s life. 

(Honestly, I think Rachel thought she was making a rational choice here—just with some grim fucking calculus. Still, given that nobody’d responded to the black box by then, I think it was a decision fueled by the need to keep hold of hope more than actual rationality.) In a fun contrast to the rest of the episode, it’s Leah that keeps a level head in this situation. 

The rest of the episode is low on water scenes, though Leah’s paranoia about Shelby is fueled by her sneaking off to the water, which could fall under the “insanity” category. It also marks where Nora begins to take an active role in breaking apart Rachel’s fantasy about diving again. 

Ep eight has one of the best montages in a series of great montages, with the playing in the water scene! A plane has seen them, they’re gonna be saved, and they all get to get high and act like kids. 

I have this lingering and probably irrational concern that the entire water play scene is choreographed and that it’s chock-full of foreshadowing. Like I know to some extent they likely were just like “yeah guys go goof off in the water,” but like...the wave pulling Rachel and Nora apart here...I mean.... (Rachel is probably gonna get more blood on Dot in the near future, too. ) That aside, their horseplay gets interrupted when Leah notices some blood on Dot, which Rachel realizes is her own period blood.  

Fatin then chimes in with her ever-gleeful foreshadowing: “Shark week for Rachel.” So while this whole encounter with the water actually seems mostly good for a change, it’s colored by the tie-in to what we know is coming.

In ep nine, reality has set in that rescue isn’t imminent. Everyone’s starving, Leah has started to spiral, and Rachel’s unusually skittish. By the tide’s edge, Nora asks for her help fishing, but Rachel refuses, saying that she’s weak. Nora flicks water at her, and Rachel flinches, clearly scared.

Starvation seems to have triggered Rachel’s trauma around the water leftover from her diving accident. In response, Nora reaches out a hand and says, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Meanwhile, Leah’s spiral has reached critical. She starts ranting about the ocean and the water and pushes past Dot, sprinting into the waves:

And so she’s taken to heart the way they think Jeannette’s body “escaped” the island—the tide—and it’s been spun like cotton candy in her head. She’s right, technically—Jeanette/Linh’s body was moved off the island by boat, and there’s definitely an argument that if they really did all swim out Gretchen’s team would save them, or at least try to. This is also a very real suicide attempt. So it’s kind of a culmination of the threats of death and mental health issues that’ve been wrapped up in the ocean since the start.

On Rachel’s end, Nora has taken her up to a cliff. Rachel calls the whole thing “borderline insane,” walking up when they’re so low on energy, but Nora tells her she needs to make a truce between herself and the water. 

“You’re afraid of it now,” she says, and Rachel replies that, “All it ever did was make me sick.” Nora immediately surges forward to say “That’s not true!” Rachel, incredulous, says, “Isn't this what you want? For me to hang it up? For me to forget the whole fucking diving game?” Nora says, “No. I don't know. I don't want you to forget you.” She then tells Rachel she should dive off the end of the cliff, that she marked it to make sure it’s safe. Rachel says she can’t.

There’s a lot here. First, there’s the first time we’ve seen of Rachel explicitly call herself sick. In episode two, even in a treatment center, she still denies it, says she’s just an athlete who knows what it takes. But now she’s reached a place where she acknowledges her eating disorder—and also probably her recent illness with the mussels—and ties it directly to the water. It’s the reason she’s sick.

Nora’s fear that Rachel will forget herself also just hammers home how central the water has always been to Rachel’s identity. Cutting herself off from the water would be cutting off a core part of herself. (...whoops) And we’ve seen that it does bring her actual joy, when she’s allowed to relax with it, but she’s had such traumatic associations rolled up into it now. Nora doesn’t want Rachel to do diving as a sport anymore, because of how badly it’s hurt her, but she does want Rachel to keep diving and swimming as like, a form of unevaluated personal expression.

At the moment that Rachel’s refusing to jump, she and Nora hear shouts from the mainland. They see Fatin and Dot screaming after Leah. Confused, Nora asks, “Where is she going?” but Rachel understands immediately, with absolute certainty, without needing to be told—“To fucking drown to death.” Seven episodes after Leah called heading into the water a death wish, she’s finally proving it true. Rachel squares her shoulders, takes a few deep breaths, and sprints into a dive. 

Unlike all her other dives high altitude dives we’ve seen her do, this dive isn’t qualified based on aesthetics. This dive matters because of what it will do, not on how it looks. And what it does do is bring her into the ocean, where she needs to be for her friend. So with strong strokes, she swims out towards Leah.

When she reaches her, she takes hold of her, pulls her into her chest from behind. She begins to swim with her back to shore. This rescue directly parallels Leah’s rescue of Linh that we talked about above. It also, as the Out in the Wilds podcast insightfully pointed out, really calls Rachel and Leah’s relationship back to the beginning. Whereas Rachel had initially held Leah down in the water, putting her in danger of drowning, Rachel here pulls her out of the water, saving her from drowning. Together, they make it all the way back to the shore.

Finally (and, like, if you’ve made it all the way down here? bless you. thank you), we have episode ten. The ocean doesn’t really figure into episode ten until the very end. Rachel has had a long episode of healing—she’s happy to be full and she’s in a good place with her sister and things seem to be going pretty okay. She decides to heal her relationship with the water, too. She heads out, telling Nora that she’s “Just gonna float, Nor. Just float.”

Just floating. After all the times we saw her plunging into the water, purposefully, with frustration, with drive, with so much to prove and with so much sacrifice and self-abuse to prove it with, Rachel finally just wants to float. She wants to let herself relax. She wants to let the water carry her.

Of course, that means there has to be, like, a massive marine carnivore waiting to mistake her for a seal.

Visually, this shot really parallels the opening shot of Leah on the fragment of plane. Instead of being face-down, though, she’s face-up, and she’s conscious, just not of the threat from below. 

The shark bites.

In a horrible parallel to Leah’s Virginia Woolf moment and Rachel’s diving accident, we see blood pool in the water. Rachel is pulled under. The girls on the land start screaming and running toward her. We know Rachel doesn’t die, but this is still a near-death experience, one that probably cost her her arm. Leah, covered in dirt and her own blood after crawling out of the pit Nora led her into, can only stand and watch, shocked and horrified.

So that got! Way longer than I meant it to! And honestly most of this was condensed into very concise tags in a post I made a few days ago! But if you made it all the way down here, you’ve now seen everything I wanted to fit into that gifset but couldn’t. Thanks for sticking with me, friend <3

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly  “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

“No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

[carriagelamp]

Since it’s Pride Month, I decided this year I wanted to raid the library for a bunch of different queer books to read. Mostly graphic novels in this case, because I’ve had a hard time settling into much reading lately... thought hopefully now that it’s summer and I finally have my second shot I’ll be able to relax a bit more and dig into some heavier novels again. For now, enjoy some light, queer reads that I indulged in this June.

A Wolf Called Wander

A beautiful novel I had been hearing lots about. This story follows the young wolf Swift, who grows up knowing that he and his pack are the mountains, and the mountains are them. It’s in those mountains that he grows and learns and loves… until disaster strikes and he finds himself viciously torn apart from his family and forced out of the mountains that have always meant home to him. Forced to survive on his own. Swift then begins a gruelling journey that makes him face injury, starvation, and the everpresent danger of humans as he seeks a new place he can call home, and new people with whom he can form a pack.

This is all based on the true story of a tagged wolf known as OR-7, following the unbelievable route he took through Oregon and northern California! It was a very neat read, and I’d definitely recommend it if you enjoy stories told from an animal’s perspective because this book is a master class in it.

Bloom

I decided for June to try to read a handful of different queer books, and this was one of the first graphic novels I picked up. It is a super sweet story and the art is lovely. It’s about Ari, a boy who has just graduated high school and is now desperate to move away from his small town and his family’s struggling bakery, to join his band in the city where they hope to make it big. An agreement is finally reached: Ari’s father will let him leave, if he can find someone who can replace him in the bakery, which is how Ari meets Hector, someone who sees artistry and peace in baking. For anyone that’s read Check, Please, it gives off those types of vibes!

Boule et Bill: Bill est Maboul

Another book of Dupuis comics, because I can’t get enough of them! This one I just stumbled across and ended up reading on a whim but it was very cute. Geared younger than the others I’ve read, but still quite funny. It’s the charming hijinks of a young boy, his dog, and the family they live with. Each page or so is a different stand alone joke, a bit like Calvin and Hobbes except expanded beyond a single strip.

Chicken Run: Chicken Pies for the Soul

This was a ridiculous urge I got and had to follow. I recently rewatched Chicken Run (which is, of course, one of the best movies ever made) and felt the need to see if it had ever been novelized. Well, I found something better than a novelization! This is a chapter book with “advice” and stories written by the various characters, post-movie. It really does a good job with grasping the different characters’ voices and making something simple and funny out of it. It was very cute (and available on The Internet Archive if anyone else feels like reading something ridiculous!)

Doodleville

I picked this up on a whim and honestly, I shouldn’t have bothered. It was not very impressive. Very mediocre, awkward feeling artwork, and a story that only slightly manages to redeem it. The concept was kind of neat, and I did like how the ending came about, the rest was rather… plodding. I did not like the main character at all, her friends felt very Intentionally Quirky Aren’t We Cute :3 in a way that just tries too hard, and… yeah. Meh. It technically gets the “queer graphic novel flag” but it’s so in-passing that it feels rather excessive to give it that.

If you are interested, it’s about a world were doodles actually exist as living creatures that can be drawn into existence (the rather unsettling implications of which is never fully explored). This is all well and good, until the main character draws a monster and takes it with her to her art club... where it begins ravanging not only her doodles, but those of her friends. Together they need to work together to figure out how to stop this menace.

FRNCK v4

Phenomenal. I adore the FRNCK series, and book four wrapped up the first “cycle”, revealing several of the big secrets dogging the series so far, and changing how things are going to be able to run in the future.

If you haven’t seen me talk about it before, FRNCK is a graphic novel (a franco-belgian bande dessinée) about a young orphan, Franck, who’s chafing under the constant parade of uninterested foster parents that visit the orphanage he lives in. Determined to learn about his mysterious abandonment instead, he flees the orphanage… but finds himself tumbling through time, landing among a family of cave-people who rather reluctantly take him in and ensure this modern boy doesn’t die in the strange, dangerous new surroundings he finds himself in. You can get these ones in English as e-books, so if you want a really kickass graphic novel series to read please try these.

Haikyu!!

I’ve heard so much about Haikyu!! that I finally gave in and picked up the first book from the library. And I gotta say, it’s well worth the hype! This series really does capture the best parts of a good sports manga -- which is to say the team is filled with interesting, enjoyable character who all need to learn to pull together, boost each other’s strengths, and cover for each other’s weaknesses. Love me some found family tropes and this series oozes it in the best possible way. And then you also get some very cool action scenes as it makes high school volleyball seem like the most intense thing on earth. I can’t wait to continue it

Queer Eye

I haven’t been keeping up with Queer Eye but I was watching it ravenously when it first came out, and this seemed like a very cathartic book to read… and it really was. It had the same gentle, loving encouragement as the show. It doesn’t expect you to change your entire life, but to learn to embrace who you are, and take small steps to enhance those things. There a segment written (presumably) by each member of the Fab Five, explaining the mentality behind what they do on the show and how you can grow in those areas too. It’s very zen.

Spinning

I got this graphic novel out at the same time as Bloom, but it was the one that interested me less of the two... though that’s just because I have less interest in “real world” slice of life as a genre and this one is meant to be autobiographical. If you’re into that, you’ll probably love this because it really is stunning. Very pretty, and the format and pacing is all really well done. It’s a coming of age story for Tillie as she grows up dealing with a crosscountry move, complicated friendships, a burgeoning attraction to girls, and attending competitive figure skating classes.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

A stunning and heart-wrenching graphic novel told by a collection of different First Nation’s authors/artists, recounting oral histories about the 150 years since the colonialist formation of the country known as “Canada”. In other words, this is a post-apocalypse story, but one that really happened and that entire peoples are still fighting to survive. It’s very eye opening and beautifully told. Very strongly recommend the read, especially if you’re at all interested in history.

Torchwood: Serenity

Whoops, not technically a book. I had thought these were technically audiobooks at first, but rather they’re audio dramas that were played on the radio. Still, I decided to include one because I’ve been listening to them like a person possessed and they’re too fun not to at least mention. Let me indulge in my obsessions.

If you don’t know Torchwood, it’s a BBC series that spins-off from Doctor Who, focusing on the enigmatic and flirtatious Captain Jack Harkness, who is running the covert organization known as Torchwood, which is tasked to protect humanity from and prepare them for alien contact. It’s goofy and campy but also more adult and heavy than Doctor Who tends to get, so it is (in my opinion) a really fascinating series. Though it also has content warnings coming out the wazoo so maybe make sure it’s for you before delving in.

Serenity specifically is possibly one of the best Torchwood stories I’ve ever experienced. The Torchwood team concludes that there’s an undercover alien hiding in the idyllic gated community Serenity Plaza, and so that means it’s up to Jack and Ianto to go undercover as a happily married couple and flush out the alien without being discovered first. Even if it means being sickly sweet together, pretending to care about the local neighbourhood barbecues, and actually caring a bit too much about the Best Front Lawn competition. What is truly magical about this one, is that it manages to make it a Fake Dating AU despite the fact that Jack and Ianto are actually dating in canon. But they’re both used to dating as a pair of alien hunters with insanely dysfunctional lives, and who now need to figure out how to deal with domesticity. It is marvellous.

Wilderlore: The Accidental Apprentice

A middle grade novel that felt a bit like a cross between Harry Potter and Pokemon. It’s about orphan Barclay Thorne who wants nothing more than to be accepted in the rule-bound village of Dullshire, and live up to his apprenticeship as a mushroom farmer. He certainly wants nothing to do with the fearsome Beasts who live beyond the village, deep in the Woods or the sinister Lorekeepers that bond with them. It was, after all, a Beast that had killed his parents all those years ago. But when he finds himself at the very edge of the forest, hunting for an elusive mushroom, he is suddenly unable to avoid any of that. Not when a wild girl and her bonded dragon appear to summon a horrible Beast and end up getting Barclay bonded to it instead. Now, if Barclay ever wants to be welcomed back into his home, he has no choice but to venture into the Woods and find a way to sever the bond imprisoning him to the massive, monstrous wolf now imprinted on his body as a living tattoo.

I honestly can’t decide how I felt about this one. I feel like it’d be a really fun read for maybe a grade 5 to 7 student? I was a bit more meh about it. It was fine, but it was very hard not to draw unfavourable parallels to Harry Potter. But for a kid who’s never read Harry Potter? Or even an adult that has but is looking for something different to scratch that itch, this might be a good book to try. I’ll probably try reading the second book when it comes out.

[melongumi]

Collecting some Wen Ning and demonic cultivation things (from the exiled-rebels translation)

Wen Ning, “Afterwards, I don’t know how long had passed, but I suddenly heard someone clap, and then, Young Master, you said ‘wake up,’ so I… struggled out of the chains and rushed outside…”

It was the command that Wei WuXian gave to the three fierce corpses at Mo Village.

[ the range on Wen Ning hearing Wei Wuxian is either ridiculously large or simply not applicable, the latter implying a permanent bond or entanglement. ] 

Wei WuXian smiled, “Oh. I understand.”

Immediately after, he continued calmly, “It’s because they’re Wen-dogs, and Wen-dogs aren’t people. So even if you killed them, it doesn’t count as having killed people. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

This was exactly what the lead inspector was thinking when he said it. With his thoughts read, his complexion paled. Wei WuXian added, “Or did you really think I wouldn’t know how someone died?”

[ this could just be talking big, or it could be confirmation that WWX doesn’t need to actively perform Empathy to glean some information from corpses and ghosts already under his control ]

Wen Ning rolled out his eye whites. A moment later, he let down his pupils again, “No. It’s so quiet.”

Wei WuXian, “It really is a bit too quiet.”

He couldn’t even catch a single sliver of the inhuman noises that he had always been able to hear.

[ allowing for translation gap; this is an explicit confirmation that wwx can hear the voices of the dead even outside of special circumstances like the Extremely Haunted Nie tombs ]

Wen Ning, “If I didn’t, they’d keep on biting people. They couldn’t be stopped at all. All along the way there are corpses like these.”

Wei WuXian, “All along the way? Have you always been in front of us to get rid of these things?”

Wen Ning nodded in embarrassment. His ability to recognize those of his own was greater than that of humans, and he could recognize them from farther away as well.  If this was the case, then that’d explain why nothing had happened during their journey. Wei WuXian had found this strange as well. Didn’t people say that a bunch of fierce corpses were travelling toward Yiling? Why didn’t they see a single one of them? So Wen Ning had cleared the obstacles before them.

[ Wen Ning can sense resentful creatures better than cultivators can, and evidently also better and more precisely than WWX can with his own inbuilt ‘bad vibes’ senses ]

Wei WuXian, “Congratulations to you for successfully draining all my patience. Since you don’t want to speak up, let’s let him answer on his own.”

As though it’d been waiting for his words for a long time, Wen Ning’s frozen corpse suddenly moved, raising its head. Before the two nearest inspectors could even scream, each of their throats was clenched by a hand as firm as iron.

Expressionless, Wen Ning raised up the two short-legged inspectors high in the air. The empty circle around them grew larger and larger. The head inspector shouted, “Young Master Wei! Young Master Wei! Please go easy on us! Doing this in the heat of the moment would lead to irreversible consequences!”

The rain fell heavier and heavier. Drops of water trickled incessantly down Wei WuXian’s cheeks.

He suddenly spun around, putting his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder before shouting, “Wen QiongLin!”

As if a reply, Wen Ning let out a long, thundering roar. The ears of everyone within the valley ached.

Wei WuXian spoke one word at a time, “Whoever caused all of you to be like this, let them meet the same end. I give you the right to do so. Settle everything!”

Hearing this, Wen Ning immediately crashed the two inspectors that he was holding together.

[...]

Wei WuXian shouted, “Enough!”

Low growls came from Wen Ning’s throat, as though he still wasn’t satisfied. 

Wei WuXian whistled and said again, “Get up!”

Wen Ning could only stand up.

[ Interpreting this passage for later discussion. When WWX calls the corpses of the Wens at Qiongqi Path, they stand still and docile until Wen Ning responds to Wei Wuxian’s words or intentions by targeting his killers. However, after killing his killers, it seems that Wen Ning’s resentful energy is only further provoked, and he goes after the other guards and tries to ignore WWX’s command to stop. However, in all this commotion there’s no mention of any trouble caused by the other corpses called up with Wen Ning in this scene or from Lanling Jin later. They shouldn’t actually have much less grievance than Wen Ning because their circumstances before death were similar, so perhaps they’re still docile because WWX is still holding control of them, whereas he told Wen Ning to cut loose-- Alternatively, perhaps Wen Ning had higher cultivation or less in the way of soul-calming in life (or what WWX said later about ‘it’s always the nice ones’ really applied) and the other corpses are weak enough in comparison that they simply fell down again without WWX’s direct attention/after his departure from the scene. ]

The shadow stumbled toward outside of the house. The half-rotted face was submerged with the thin daylight. Wei WuXian clapped his hands. The walking corpse didn’t seem to notice anything at all, continuing to walk toward them. Wei WuXian calmly walked two steps backward, “It’s controlled by the Tiger Seal.”

Corpse puppets who had already submitted to him wouldn’t be controlled by the Tiger Seal. Likewise, corpse puppets who had submitted to the Tiger Seal wouldn’t listen to his commands. The rules were simple: first come, first served.

[ Alright, so it’s dibs rule. keeping that in mind for reference below ]

Xue Yang, “It’s such a shame that even though I gave him so many nails in his head, he was still unwilling to obey. Things that are too loyal are also quite troublesome.”

[ Several possibilities here. The first is that Wen Ning’s will was strong enough to prevent control even with the nails suppressing his mind--notable in that the same is not true of Song Lan. The second is that perhaps Wei Wuxian’s dibs were left unaffected by his death. If we want to give Song Lan due credit for hatred and/or force of will, we take a bias for the second option. If we wanna single out Wen Ning for being OP, the first is still fine. Note that the second option is also a point in the column for ‘permanent necromancy bond’ as referenced after the first passage in this post. ]

Wei WuXian was also wondering why, Why couldn’t the command control these corpses? With a slow pace and rancid scent, they definitely weren’t any high-level corpses. I should’ve been able to scare them away with just a few claps. It was impossible for my whistling to suddenly not work anymore, since it doesn’t use spiritual powers anyways. A situation like this has never…

Suddenly, he remembered something. A thin layer of sweat seeped from his back.

No. It wasn’t that “a situation like this has never happened before”. In reality, it had indeed happened before, and not only once. There really was a type of corpse or spirit that he couldn’t command—

Corpses or spirits that were already under the control of the Stygian Tiger Seal!

[ It’s perhaps notable that he jumps directly to the Tiger Seal rather than another demonic cultivator. It could just be a consequence of not having encountered other demonic cultivators at this point in the story, or it could imply a confidence on his part that he could, actually, override the ‘dibs’ laid by other demonic cultivators. If so, his confidence may yet be misinformed, but it’s a point of data. ]

Additional impressions:

It seems that conscious fierce corpses (like Wen Ning and Song Lan) and living corpses (like the woman in Yi City) apparently can’t be controlled against their will-- even by the Tiger Seal (and therefore: even by Wei Wuxian). Whether this a matter of having too high a Wisdom saving throw or essentially having first dibs on themselves is unspecified. 

This passage--

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “You’re seeking your own death!”

As he finished, Wen Ning raised his hand and tore off the red string that hung a talisman at his neck.

After the string snapped, his body wavered, and the muscles on his face began to twist. Marks that resembled black cracks crawled up his neck to his cheeks. He suddenly lifted his head, letting out a long, inhuman roar!

--could suggest that it’s the former, if removing that talisman made Wen Ning less conscious and more controllable. There are two problems with that, though. First, there’s no mention of a talisman like that in the present, which should imply that he doesn’t need it to stay conscious or to control his temperament. Instead, it could perhaps have been a single-use talisman to boost his resentment (for emergencies) that he activated by removing it, but that feels a little strange too? Alternatively, the talisman was to suppress his resentment, but in order to make him less notable while travelling rather than in order to help him keep control-- in which case, this is simply a case of having to remove the ‘disguise’ in order to fight at full capacity.

Anyway, second:

He was clearly controlling Wen Ning properly.

Even though he activated Wen Ning’s rampage mode, he should still be able to control him.

He’d clearly always been able to control him perfectly.

--suggests that Wei Wuxian doesn’t need Wen Ning to be less conscious in order to control him, unless he’s referring only to the times he controlled him before he regained consciousness, with the time since elided because it perhaps never came up. 

This notion, plus reference to a ‘rampage mode’, also appears to conflict with the idea that the talisman in the previous passage was just a disguise, since the first assumption becomes that it was somehow connected to the ‘rampage mode’.

Side note; Wei Wuxian forgets, but I remember a prior occasion when he couldn’t control Wen Ning: directly before Wen Ning regained consciousness. It seems likely that this occasion is a case of especially dense resentment making control more uncertain-- similar to how, later in the book, Nie Mingjue’s (unconscious) fierce corpse can only be coaxed, not controlled.

Anyway I’m ending this post abruptly, b/c it now represents several hours of procrastination, and I have to catch up on NaNo.

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (10/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did… helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Totally harmless fun, nothing out of the unusual! Snow days! Varian fights for Eugene's hand!

Read the rest on AO3

A lot of this was inspired by jokes and plot bunnies from the Scar AU server, big thanks to them! And to all of you for your words of love on this fic! Forfeit all mortal possessions to baby. I'm debating whether or not to redo chapter 1 bc i'm not a fan of how ooc eugene is so if u have any opinions on that feel free to share

The wind howled, beating mercilessly against the windows. At this rate, Eugene would spend tomorrow morning cleaning the yards of debris. Captain always gave him labor when he got pissy, and Eugene’s been pushing the man’s buttons lately. Or rather, he keeps letting Varian mess with him.

Eugene tries to be strict, he really does! It’s just whenever he looks into those baby blue eyes, so full of love and adoration, he forgets whatever he was going to say and gives Varian whatever he asks for. Cassandra and Rapunzel tease him mercilessly for it, and every single time, Eugene swears he’ll be stricter, only for the process to start all over again. 

Case in point, the door to his room creaks open, letting in the hallway’s candlelight. A familiar mop of black hair peeks in. Its owner debates whether or not to enter, and Eugene sighs fondly. As he sits up, his young son grips tighter on the doorknob, deep in thought.

“Bud,” He whispers, and Varian starts. “You coming in?”

It takes a moment for him to make up his mind, but sure enough, Varian toddles in. “Couldn’t sleep,” He mumbles. “Sky is loud.”

“The storm?”

“Mhm.” Varian responded, struggling to climb up onto the bed. His short legs kicked wildly as he finally pulled himself up to Eugene’s side. He really needed to start enforcing boundaries. Varian needed to sleep in his own bed. Then again, he usually did, this stuff only happened once a week. Was that normal at his age? Or was it an anxiety thing? He needs to buy more parenting books...

“Don’t like storms, they’re cold,” Varian mumbled, snapping Eugene out of his spiralling panic. 

Oh. 

Eugene’s teeth bit into his bottom lip, worrying it. Then, silently, he lifted the covers up, and let Varian snuggle deep in. 

It wasn’t enough, apparently. Varian let out a whine, and reached his arms up towards his caretaker. He gave a little grabby motion, making Eugene laugh. 

“Use your words, bluebird.”

Varian pouted, cranky tears budding. “Cuddles?” He asked, and, ope, there’s those big puppy dog eyes again. 

Cassandra and Rapunzel were right. He’s weak. 

“Of course,” Eugene grabbed a blanket from the end of his bed. The soft velvet swaddled his kid like a burrito, and he wrapped Varian in tight. He looked like a little worm, wiggling about in the bundle, but unable to escape. It was for Eugene’s safety; Varian liked to kick in his sleep. On one of the first nights, Varian had kicked him in the face and gave him a bloody nose. 

He swept Varian up, bouncing the sack in his arms. Only Varian’s head was visible, and it was one of sleepy delight. His eyes struggled to stay open as Eugene rested them both on his back, Varian’s ear up to his chest. The father’s heartbeat thrummed like a lullaby. 

“Goodnight, Varian,” Eugene whispered.

“Night, daddy,” Varian yawned. They fell asleep in minutes. 

-

Varian smushed his face against the window, marvelling at the power that fell from the sky. Snow usually meant a day inside, bundled up by a fire, with his momma showing him an ounce of concern by letting him have cocoa. But now that he was with Eugene, snow meant play! It meant Eugene had the day off from teaching! To spend all day with him!

He bounded out of his room and skidded down the corridor, passing guards and maids alike. It was as if he was flying, he was so excited!

“Eugeneeeeeeeee!” He cried, jumping onto his caretaker’s stomach. The man knew what he wanted, and was able to catch him.

“Oof, you know I have ribs, right?” He grunted, swinging Varian up into his arms. Since he’d moved in, Varian had gotten a good bit heavier. That wasn’t a bad thing, quite the opposite; the doctors are very thrilled at Varian’s turn in health. His cheeks were plump and pinchable with baby fat, as they should be. “So, what’s up?”

“It’s snowing!” Varian gushed, wiggling around in his dad’s arms. “Can we go outside, pleeeeeease?” 

The man hummed in thought. “Well, since you said please, sure. But!” He held up a finger to stop Varian from bouncing out of his arms. “We gotta bundle up or there’s no going outside. That means shoes, young man!” That earned him a pout. He and Rapunzel had more than just freckles in common. 

Thankfully, Varian was too eager to go outside to complain, so they were bundled up and in the yard pretty fast. To be honest, Eugene hated snow. It was wet, and not the fun kind. It was the “ruin your socks and hair” kind of wet. But since everyone else in Corona seemed to be a fan, he had no choice but suck it up. 

Hey, at least the kid was enjoying himself. Varian’s cheeks were flushed a rose red, and snot dribbled down his nose, but he wasn’t complaining. Eugene bundled him up so tight it was a miracle the kid could move, let alone run and play, but Varian waddled around like a penguin without a care in the world. Each step was accompanied by the crunch of snow under his feet, and a flurry of powder from when he lifted his foot. 

At some point, a patch of snow fell from a tree and onto his head, earning Eugene the privilege of hearing Varian’s delighted squeals. You’d think that would upset him, but no. Eugene could never predict what would upset the kid, and what would be laughed off. 

And hey, if Varian liked the first few spatters of snow on his head, Eugene was content to watch him tempt fate. 

Varian decided to try and recreate that feeling, the shock and joy of extra snow coming from the sky, and so he ran from tree to tree, smacking the bark and shrieking when snow fell. He was small, so it wasn’t like he could knock too much snow…

No wait, spoke too soon.

Eugene bit back laughter as he watched. Varian, overly confident, marched up to a large pine tree, one with massive mounds of snow trapped on leaves. He seemed to be under the assumption that more snow was more fun, and so he backed up, and threw his entire body at the tree. 

It worked too well. A cascade of snow fell from the heavens, and god, Eugene felt so bad for laughing, but the face of horror at what he’d done just moments before being buried in snow… it was priceless. The snow fell with a whump, and Varian completely vanished from view. The only remainder of the kid was the pom pom of his hat. 

For a moment, there was silence. Varian stood still, shocked at what had happened. Then, he started kicking, trying to get to the surface of the mound. It stretched on forever, his entire sight was white! (In reality, It was maybe 3 inches taller than him.)

Eugene silently fell to the ground, laughter shaking him to his core. The laughs only got more intense when Varian, panicking and trying to escape, somehow ended up upside down. Only his little boots were free, and they kicked wildly. It seemed this was when Varian gave up, as he let out a siren’s wail. 

“Oh, buddy,” Eugene wheezed, jogging over. Through the snow he could hear Varian’s muffled screams and tears. He could breathe, the snow wasn’t nearly dense enough to suffocate him, but it was certainly scary. “I gotcha.” With a quick tug, Eugene pulled Varian feet first, and found himself at eye level with a distraught toddler. His entire face was red, eyelashes covered in white crystals, and pudgy cheeks were covered in tears. 

“Stop laughingggggg,” Varian whined, but it only made the man laugh harder. The shaking of his abs made it hard to hold onto his squirming child, but it was totally worth it. 

-

“Here’s the brush you were looking for, sunshine.” Eugene hummed, holding a now dry Varian in one hand and his gift in the other. Rapunzel brightened at seeing them, happily taking her brush back. 

“Thanks, Eugene,” She said, pecking him on the cheek. Varian frowned, confused at how Eugene’s cheeks warmed at her touch. And what was that expression, all gooey and smiley? He’d never seen anything like it, not from momma, or any villager, he’d only seen it between those two! He let out a noise of complaint, and reached out to grasp Rapunzel’s hair. 

“Oh, Varian, did you want a kiss too?” she asked, chuckling. He was the biggest lovebug, delighting in all sorts of hugs and snuggles. Whereas Cass couldn’t handle more than a few seconds of her notorious bear hugs, Varian sought them out when he was feeling sad. It was a refreshing change that she very much appreciated and adored. 

But Varian shook his head, further incensed. “Why’s he making that face?” he asked. 

“Who, Eugene?” Said man snapped out of his love-lorn trance to watch the conversation. 

“Hey, my face is flawless! It’s cuz I love her, that’s all.”

“But I love Punzel too!” Varian whined. He didn’t make that expression, did he? Oh gosh, he hoped not! It looks so stupid! 

“It’s a different kind of love, Varian,” with a smile, Rapunzel took one of Varian’s hands in her own. “It’s a kind of love you only share with one person, and it’s very special.”

“The best kind of love there is,” Eugene agreed, and oh, there’s the expression again, except Rapunzel was making a similar one. They came together in a kiss, squishing Varian in between them. While he did enjoy the closeness, the words caught him off guard. Love you share with only one person? Does that mean Eugene doesn’t love him? Rapunzel…. She stole Eugene’s love from him! 

“Fight me!” 

Rapunzel and Eugene broke apart, shocked, as if they had forgotten he was there. He glared daggers at Rapunzel. “Fight me for Eugene’s love!” 

Eugene sputtered in shock. “W-what…? Buddy, you don’t need to fight for-”

“Swords at dawn!” the child roared, fussing until he was let go. He landed on the floor squarely and puffed up his chest. 

Despite his attempts to look intimidating, it failed spectacularly. He looked like an angry marshmallow. It didn’t help that his outfit for the day was a fuzzy, oversized sweater. Rapunzel bit back a laugh. 

“Where did you hear that term, young man?” She joked, hands on her hips. Varian wasn’t deterred and didn’t respond, only puffing up his cheeks. The princess shook her head fondly. “He gets it from you,” she muttered to Eugene, who gasped, insulted. “Me? It’s totally from you!” 

Varian stomps his foot. “Hey!” he cries, and the attention goes back to him. 

“You’re right, it’s totally me,” Eugene runs a hand over his face. “You don’t need to fight Rapunzel, Varian, I love you both equally!”

Varian shakes his head. “You said your love is only with one person, and it’s special! Well, I want it! I’m special, right?” 

Eugene couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and slightly bewildered. “Y-yes, but this is a different kind of special…!” His face burned a bright red. 

“I’ll do it.”

Both father and son turned to Rapunzel, who gazed at Varian with a smirk and fire in her eyes. “You and me, we fight for Eugene’s love tomorrow, sound good?”

“Winner takes Eugene, loser dies!” He crowed. They shook hands, completely ignoring Eugene’s face of dumbstruck horror. 

The rest of the day, Varian and Rapunzel kept their distance, Rapunzel’s glare more teasing, while Varian’s was full of fury and jealousy. All the while, Eugene bounced and forth between both of them, trying to stop the fight before it began.

“Come on, bud, you love Rapunzel, right? Just like I do. You don’t have to do this,” he pleaded over the dinner table. Varian crossed his arm, a glob of food falling off his spoon and onto his sleeve. 

“I’m fighting for your honor!” 

“I regret reading you Flynn Rider.” 

Rapunzel bit back a laugh, letting the child stare her down. She ignored the confused looks of her parents, sticking her tongue out in return. Varian wanted a fight? She’s more than willing to throw down. Not for real, sun no, she’s not crazy. But the look on Eugene’s face was so funny… and besides, it’s her turn to be the fun parent! Even if that means fighting over the other parent. Varian seemed so eager, and hey, she’d always fight for her right to love Eugene, no matter who the opponent was! Eugene glanced over at her, desperate for help, for Rapunzel to admit that this was an elaborate ruse. She simply smiled and dug further into her meal. 

What’s the harm?

-

Quirin paced back and forth in his room, wearing the wood thin with his weight. 

“I should tell the king… no… it had to be a coincidence, right? I saw Ulla take it, but she says she doesn’t have it, it could be a lie…!” He mumbled to himself.

He couldn’t sleep last night, nor the night before. In fact, he’d struggled all week. Laying awake, thinking about what he’d seen. 

A small child.

A shriek.

A black spike, jutting out in perfect harmony with his cries. 

A glowing stripe of hair.

It. 

The moonstone. 

Everything he’d ever known, every clue, every trace seemed irrelevant. He’d been spending the past half a decade looking for the moonstone. Had he been looking in the wrong place? Has each new spike, each life ruined, not been the work of a sadistic woman, but rather a scared child? It seemed preposterous, he didn’t steal the moonstone, after all.

No. He knows who did. 

Ulla had been… well, not nice, never nice. Accepting, maybe. Calm. Apparently her old partner ditched her to raise a family, so she’d latched onto Quirin after saving him from bandits (he didn’t need saving, thank you!) . As a man constantly on the move, he’d made no complaints. Company was very much needed on the journey he was on. 

It was hard to figure out where the rocks were headed, back then. They’d seemed aimless, forever wandering in search of the missing sundrop. It’s why King Frederick sought him out, after all. If the rocks pointed to the sundrop, where he’d find the sundrop, he’d find the princess. 

Alas, that trail ended cold, but all’s well that ends well for the King, at least? 

Ulla, curious, scientific, genius Ulla, she’d begged to see his homeland. His family. The place from which the rocks originated. And while Quirin had been loathe, the longer they traveled, the harder he found it to say no. She was cunning, and quick, and all the things Quirin wasn’t. Opposites attract, so they say.

But that also meant she wasn’t loyal. 

The day she’d betrayed him was the worst day of his life. 

He had let her in, shown her his legacy, his purpose, his destiny. And then Ulla had stolen it. She’d reached out and grasped the stone with a hunger Quirin had never seen. A bright light consumed her, blinding him, and when it vanished, the stone vanished too. 

Ulla had been just as confused as he, but the rocks began to sprout at her feet. When she ran, she left a trail of rocks in her wake. Enraged and humiliated, Quirin had no choice but to follow. He saw the trail of destruction, the despair she left in her wake. 

But then she had vanished. The rocks stopped sprouting at her feet. They only appeared sporadically, causing problems in isolated villages, one after another. By the time Quirin arrived to investigate, she was long gone. 

Until now. 

Now, he had a lead. A lead that wasn’t her. But… if it was correct… and this child truly possessed the moonstone…

Could he do what needed to be done? 

-

The next day came, and Varian was ready. 

He’d spent the whole night preparing, thinking sad thoughts, scary thoughts, every instance he could remember where a rock had bothered him. His mood was in the drain, and he was fully prepared. 

“Last chance, bluebird, you know I love you, we can call this off!” Eugene said when he came to dress Varian for the day. 

“Death before dishonor!” 

“Where did you even learn- never mind. Sure, fine, Rapunzel is waiting.” 

From around the corner, Cass snickered. She’d come to watch, eager to see the two sweetest souls engage in mortal combat. And also mess with Eugene.

Mostly the latter. 

“If you need a weapon, Varian, I got a few knives you can borrow!” She offered as the three made their way to the battlefield. Eugene’s ghostly pale face resembled that of paper with its waxy, white sheen. It was amazing. Before Varian, she’d only seen Eugene this stressed when he had a bad hair day. Now, his hair seemed like the least of his worries. Not when he has a feral child to keep alive. 

“No knives, please and thank you, I would like to live.” He moaned. 

Cassandra’s grin only grew. “Are you even alive right now? They say the old self dies with fatherhood.” 

“No one says that.”

“They could.”

He swatted her away, grumbling. But Varian paid them no heed. His mind was focused on only one thing: victory. By any means necessary. 

The three of them finally made it out into the courtyard. Snow still covered every surface, bathing the world in a glittery white. Rapunzel stood in a warm dress, not wearing shoes, but rather a pair of fuzzy socks. Cassandra wouldn’t let her outside with at least some warmth. She hadn’t bothered to put her hair up for the day, either. 

“You still wanna do this, little man?” She teased, hands on her hips. Eugene sent her a glare. 

“No one loves Eugene more than I do!” Varian declared, letting go of Eugene’s hand and marching forward.

Rapunzel was unfazed. “Really? I changed my whole life for him, remember?” 

Eugene had told him how he and Rapunzel met the other day. Well, most of it. Something told him Varian would not take too kindly to Eugene dying. Or the bit about a cruel mother. Maybe save those for when Varian’s older. 

“So did I!” Varian yelled. They began to circle, a delicate dance. Prey and predator. Friend and foe. 

“He offered you a new life. I convinced him to give it to me.” From the sidelines, Cassandra gasped. “Ooooh, you gonna take that, Varian?” she cried. 

“No!” He answered, and charged at the princess. A blur of yellow engulfed his vision, and like a fly in a trap, he was ensnared, swallowed by a mound of hair. 

With a pull, Rapunzel pulled him close. Grabbed him. And moved her fingers across his sides.

“Noooooo!” He squeaked, trying to wiggle out of her hair, but it was no use! She had him in place, right where she wanted. 

“Surrender!” She cried, tickling his sides. 

“N-neeeever!!” His lip wobbled, and little tears formed. Oh no, did she go too far? It was just supposed to be a little teasing! Rapunzel faltered. 

Just as he’d expected. 

He summoned all the anger built up in him. There would only be one shot at this, after all. He let out the telltale scream of an upset child.

Sure enough, the rocks heard his call. 

They spiralled out from his spot, jutting out in all directions. Rapunzel dropped him with a gasp, narrowly avoiding getting pierced. Her hair floated up, swirling in the sky like clouds that covered her sun, in tandem with Varian’s own hair lighting up and floating. The whole yard reeked of magic.

Everything went still. No one dared move a muscle. Then, like a breath being held, it all deflated. The rocks shrunk down beneath the surface again, and all hair dropped. 

Eugene stood in shock, frozen in place. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Sneaking a glance at Cassandra told him she was just as bewildered. 

Varian opened his eyes. That… that worked…? It worked! He let out a victorious laugh. In your face, momma! No more electric chair for him! All he needed to do was think sad thoughts!

“I did it!” he crowed, jumping up and down. Thrilled, he threw himself at Eugene, happily burrowing himself into his dad’s arms. All that love, all for him!

“Well, you certainly did… something…” Eugene muttered, still dumbstruck. The adults all shared nervous glances. What on earth just happened? 

Quirin stood on the balcony, gripping its railings with white knuckles. It was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. 

[catherine-parr-1512]

SixVengers - The Beginning (Fic 1) Chapter 6

@kenneth.mark.82 Mark Keeneth

Who would have thought that London might be destroyed tomorrow lol

13 replies 20 retweets 2031 likes

@spider_woman_fan_club Spider-Woman Fan Club

England is about to get destroyed and all I can think of is Spider-Woman flying today through London, looking good as always :/

303 replies 1025 retweets 70K likes

@superheronewsuk Super Hero News UK Official

BREAKING NEWS:

The City of London and surrounding areas are evacuated due to the upcoming Alien invasion that will hit London. The Prime Minister will release an official statement at 7 p.m. about the situation but unofficial sources claim that British heroes were asked to defend London.

20K replies 32K retweets 801K likes

Katherine closed Twitter and looked outside the window. She was in a car with Agent Blount and Anna on their way towards Parr Tower. It was decided after the meeting, and once everyone had cooled down, that the best thing for the team was to stay the night together and the best place for it would be Parr Industries Headquarters in central London. This meant that if by some chance, the attacks started earlier, the group of heroes would be able to get there faster than if they were travelling from their homes, most of them being on the edges of the city.

To pass time through travelling through central London, she was on her phone like any normal teenager would be and she was surprised that people didn't freak out that much. Kat knew that, that would change when the attack would take place.

After travelling for 30 minutes through busy streets of London, the cars containing the heroes and three agents *kidnappers* thought Katherine, finally arrived at Parr Tower, where they would spend the night getting to know the other members of the team and getting ready to fight Henry.

The three of them left the car and met up with Parr, Boleyn and Lee who arrived just a minute before. The group were joined by Aragon, Seymour and Salinas after a short while, the trio arriving last. The nine women made their way inside the tower and Katherine was impressed, to say the least. Whoever designed the building had taste. It was modern and white with blue accents. Very tasteful and minimalistic.

Kat could see many people walking around, minding their own or company businesses, nobody paying attention to the large group of women that had just entered. One of the security guards approached Parr and whispered something to which she nodded and led them towards a large elevator on the left side of the entrance, bypassing the security. It was fortunately large enough to fit all of them comfortably. The door closed but nobody clicked any buttons.

“BRIAN? Please take us to floor 80.” Said Catherine and everyone looked around, not seeing who this Brian was. However, all of them jumped when she got a reply.

“Of course Miss Parr, right away. I will also put the light on and adjust the temperature.” Said the robotic voice from inside the elevator and quickly started moving upwards.

“I presume it was some sort of computer?” Asked Anne awkwardly, not knowing what to say about the whole situation. “But that’s just my observation.”

“Actually, it’s an AI, fully functional and capable of thinking for himself,” Parr said with a small, proud smile. “I named him after my uncle who took care of my brother and I after our parents died.”

“That’s sentimental.” Smiled Seymour and the whole elevator went back to a (somehow) comfortable silence until the elevator stopped with a ping.

The door opened to show a large living room. It had a see-through wall on the opposite side of the elevator. Along that wall was a row of white, comfortable-looking couches and chairs. The walls were painted a light sky blue and grey, giving the whole room a calming look.

“Whoa, this looks nice, Parr. What a nice room to greet your guests. It’s very… you.” Joked Anne, jumping on the nearest couch, and putting her legs on the coffee table.

“I think it’s just parrfect.” Said Seymour and everyone looked towards her weirdly. “Sorry, I was trying to make a pun.” She chuckled to herself.

“I heard that you were a comedian but I don’t understand how anyone would laugh at that.” Replied Anne, earning a chuckle from both Katherine and Anna. However she also received a stern look from 3 Agents in the room - Salinas, Aragon and Lee - and a sad puppy look from Seymour. Parr and Blount just shook their heads.

“If most of you stopped behaving like children, I would like to point out that it’s my living room that most of my guests never see so be grateful,” Catherine said before anyone could say anything else. “This is one of my 3 personal floors so please don’t wreck it too much. I still want to spend time in my living room without it being destroyed… again.”

“What do you mean again? Did a group of women with some sort of abilities destroy it before?” Asked Bessie, sitting down on a nearby couch next to Anna and Katherine.

“Nope. It was BRIAN and me. Well, I mean he was in one of the suits and I was in another. We had a mock fight in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep which definitely wasn’t my greatest idea. We ripped a huge hole in the ceiling.”

“Now I want to see you do it again if I’m being honest.” Said Anne.

“I’ll bring popcorn for the entertainment.” Added Anna and the two of them high fived each other in the air from a distance.

“I think we should pick someone to be your leader for the mission. While Director Meutas will be controlling the whole operation from the TOWER along with many agents, there will have to be one of you making sure that everything out there on the field is going okay. It will be just the six of you. Military and a few agents will help you but they will mostly have to make sure that any civilians in the city will be safe.” Stated Salinas as an unofficial leader of Agents (other than Aragon)

The heroes looked between each other, silently debating the choice.

“Well, I am underage so I’m out” Said Katherine with a smug smile.

“I have anger issues that count me out as a reliable leader.” Added Anne, smirking slightly.

“Don’t look at me, I can barely look after myself to make sure that I don’t accidentally die. No positions of power for me, hey!” Laughed Anna, getting comfortable on her couch.

The remaining three women looked around, each looking at the other two women in silence.

“I think each one of us would be a good leader…” Said Jane, looking at Aragon and Parr, meeting their eyes. “However, as the oldest person here, I think I have the most experience in this type of job. Let us also not forget that I was and still am a Captain in British Army.”

“Sorry? You were frozen in ice for 70 years. I think that means you still are as young as you were back then, Seymour. I, on the other hand, am an agent in a secret government agency who knows how London works and I know this city.” Countered Aragon jumping towards Seymour, looking straight into her eyes.

“Really? Everything you do is being told to you. I led men into a battle and we won. You don’t have that experience, Aragon.”

“Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m not sure if being in the freezer for so long damaged your vision, but we are not men. We are women and we need someone who can lead us. You are not that so just step down and let me do it.”

“I don’t think so. I am not letting you do it. I won’t let some random woman lead this team and possibly cause us to lose.”

“YOU LITTLE-” Started Aragon, grabbing Seymour by her suit before they suddenly found themselves on opposite sides of the room, thrown against the walls.

The room was silent as they looked at what happened only to see Parr standing where they were before, wearing her Iron Woman gauntlets in each hand, with a hard look on her face.

“Both of you behave worse than 5-year-olds, we are supposed to be bonding and yet you squabble over something we don’t even need! I thought you would be better but if that’s how it will be, personally I think it’s better if we all decide on the field what we are doing, no leaders. I think we are all mature enough to make sure that it won’t be a problem.”

“Or maybe you want to become a leader?” Asked Jane, stepping towards Parr, the tension getting heavier in the room.

“Yeah. It seems like you want to be the one to lead us.” Added Aragon, tilting her head at the other woman. “Look at me, I am Catherine Parr and I say what is the best for everyone!” She added in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate Parr.

“I have to agree with you on that one, Spy, but don’t think that it makes us friends,” Seymour grumbled and moved closer towards the centre of the room.

The other agents didn’t know what to do with the newfound tension but fortunately, the other 3 heroes knew that they had to do something before 3 women killed each other.

“I REALLY THINK COFFEE WOULD BE NICE RIGHT ABOUT NOW!” Mused Anne, very loudly, making it seem like she was talking to herself. Parr, Aragon and Seymour stopped looking at each other, Boleyn now being the centre of their attention.

“Uhm, yeah… Right… I have a kitchen right there. I’ll make everyone coffee or tea.” Catherine said and quickly disappeared from the room towards where she said the kitchen was and the tension in the living room quickly disappeared.

Seymour and Aragon sat on the couches as far as possible from each other and the room was silent now, the only noise heard was breathing and some fans working.

“I think I will go help Parr with all of those cups. I also have this difficult coffee order. I don’t drink it any other way.” Anna quickly fled the room, leaving Anne and Katherine looking as if she was an evil witch who had killed their dog and laughed about it at the end of a song. The others didn’t seem to pay her any attention.

“Hello,” She said as she entered the kitchen, seeing Parr standing with 9 cups and 2 pots, probably with either coffee or tea inside them. “Wanted to see if you needed any help, Cathy Parr.”

“Cathy? Really?” Asked the other woman with a small smile on her face.

“Well, I decided everyone needs a nickname. When I say Katherine or Catherine it sounds the same. Or Catherine and Katherine. And then we have Catalina. Honestly, how many women can have similar names? This is like 33% of this group!”

“Don’t forget Anna and Anne. Those two are very similar.”

“I know, right? Stupid green imposter, I’m the superior Anne/Anna.”

“Fortunately for everyone we only have one Jane, Elizabeth, Maria or Margaret. I think that Lee is called Margaret but don’t take my word on that.” Joked Cathy, snorting lightly.

“I am also not sure about that one. I just call her “Mean Agent” in my head. Honestly, all the time I look at her, it looks as if she was getting ready for some kind of war. I mean, I know that we might be having a battle for humanity tomorrow but honestly, smile a little. Jeez, is that a lot to ask?” The woman dressed in red acted dramatically, clenching her hand across her chest as if she was being hurt.

“Do you have any other nicknames? For the others?” Asked Parr, filling one of the pots with hot water and turning her head to look at the other woman.

“I mean, yes. So we have Catalina as Lina. I think that’s actually a word for rope in Polish and to be honest, I would not be surprised if she had a rope hidden somewhere in that uniform of hers. Anne is Anne or Shrek.” At that, Catherine burst out laughing. “HEY! Don’t laugh. Just imagine her saying ‘What are you doing in my swamp?!’” Said Anna in a deep voice, trying to imitate Shrek. "And you will understand where I am getting this from. Jane is Cap or just Jane. Might buy her a cap after all of this is done. Then we will have Cap on Cap. If we buy two and she stands on one of them, we will have a cap sandwich. Little Howard is Kat because she reminds me of a cat but we put K at the start. And by we, I mean me and maybe you in the future. You, Catherine Parr, are of course Cathy. Lee we already talked about, Blount is Bessie and Salinas is Marrrrrrrrria. Remember, the more you roll the r's, the better the effect.”

Catherine Parr chuckled at the last comment, thinking what Salinas would think about it.

“You’ve known us for a few hours and you already came up with those? It’s pretty impressive.”

“It is not impressive. I was just bored.” Replied Anna, smirking. “So what are we having here?” She pointed at the pots, now filled to the brim with hot liquids.

“One of them has coffee, normal black. The other has tea, Earl Grey. I have milk in the mini-fridge in the living room so anyone can add it if needed by themselves.”

“Can I have hot chocolate? I am not a huge fan of coffee.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll make it for you right now. You know, like the good host I am haha.”

"Thanks." The two stood in silence, waiting for the drink to be made in a fancy machine Cathy had. Anna, however, was bored and wanted to start a conversation again. "You know, I am not sure what happened there in the living room. With Seymour and Aragon."

Cathy sighed "I don't know either. I get it that we should have someone to lead us on the field but… but I haven't thought that those two would make an issue out of it. They were just so…. Different, I guess, from what we saw in T.O.W.E.R. HQ."

"Maybe they are hormonal? Or need some sleep? Or coffee?"

"If they need coffee, we better head there quickly before I will have to use my repulsors on them again." Cathy pointed towards her two gauntlets that were now in the form of bracelets around her wrists.

"That's what they’re called? Cool." With that, the two women grabbed everything, Cathy with the two pots of tea and coffee while Anna used her powers to take all the empty cups and her hot chocolate.

"Your powers. They are rather impressive. I never saw anything like that."

"Not you nor C.O.U.R.T.. When I got them, a few years ago, nobody knew what I could do but with time I learned. They come pretty handy when I only have 2 hands and 10 things to hold." Said Anna using her powers to juggle the cups, earning a soft smile from Cathy.

The two women entered the living room again to be met with an uncomfortable silence. All of the women were sitting on their phones but it seemed like Anne and Kat were playing something together and didn’t really notice their two teammates entering.

“Hello! We have drinks.” Announced Anna, making everyone turn their heads towards her.

The two women put everything on the coffee table next to them and everyone made their way towards, eager to drink something warm while Cathy brought milk and sugar for anyone needing them. However, a problem arose when Katherine poured herself coffee.

“You will not be drinking that, young lady.” Said Jane, taking the cup from the teenager's hands. Kat just looks at her with a betrayed look. “You are a kid, you cannot drink that. Drink tea instead. It will be healthier for you.”

“I don’t like tea.” Kat stubbornly replied, not liking what the other woman was doing but knowing better than to fight with a super-soldier.

“She can have my hot chocolate if she wants. I’ll get coffee.” Cut in Anna, before Jane could say anything and wanting to stop any new conflict from happening… again.

“I’m okay with hot chocolate. Thanks.” Mumbled the teenager, sitting on a couch with her new drink, Anna sitting on the opposite end with a nice cup of steaming coffee.

When Jane turned around, pleased with herself, Anna used her powers to swap two cups and winking at Kat, making the young woman smile at her new friend. When they turned around, they could see Anne, Cathy and Bessie covering their smiling faces with their selected mugs as they drank their chosen beverages..

“Um, Miss Parr?” Asked Kat after their quick tea/coffee/hot chocolate break. “Do you have any sewing supplies here? Preferably a needle and some red and blue thread?”

“Why are you asking? Do you need it for something?”

The girl sighed and reached towards her backpack. From there she removed something. It was her Spider-Woman costume.

“It was destroyed in a few places today while I was patrolling. I was meaning to do something about it when I got home but I’m here instead.” The teenager said with a small chuckle and turned to look at Parr.

Cathy looked as if she was hit by a bus.

“This… is your suit?” She asked, pointing towards the fabric.

“Yeah. Made it myself. Bought all the fabric, sewn it together and all that.”

“...”

“Is Parr okay?” Asked Anne when she saw that Cathy.exe stopped working. Anna just shrugged and waited for the situation to continue.

“Am I OKAY?! OF COURSE, I AM NOT! I DON’T CARE WHAT ALL OF YOU THINK BUT I AM NOT LETTING A TEENAGER GO OUT THERE TOMORROW IN A SUIT MADE OF COTTON!” Screamed Cathy.

“It’s actually polyester” Replied Katherine but stopped when Parr looked at her with murder in her eyes.

“Is polyester that good? Wouldn’t she sweat a lot in it?” Whispered Anna to Anne and the other woman just nodded, questioning the life choices of the youngest member of the team.

“Howard, you are going with me now and I do not care what you think about it.” Ordered Catherine, dragging the younger woman with her.

“Please don’t kill me! I’m too young and pretty to die!”

“You won’t be dying kid, we are going to be making you a suit. And be we, I mean you give me a design and what you need, I choose the materials and other stuff while BRIAN will make it happen. Okay?” Asked Cathy as the two of them left the room, leaving the others to themselves. A minute later Cathy came back. “Oh, and if any of you want to rest, straight ahead there are guest rooms. Just pick one. If you need me, ask BRIAN and he will lead you to me.” She said and disappeared again, not staying to hear what the other women had to say.

Anna and Anne laughed at that, Bessie shook her head, Lee and Salinas started talking quietly with each other whilst Aragon quietly sipped her tea. Only Jane looked towards the corridor where Cathy had just left, her blue and grey eyes flashing yellow for a moment before she blinked and the unusual colour disappeared.

[wastelandcrown]

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 7: you matter to me (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Mr. and Mrs. Grimm’s A+ parenting, panic attacks, unconventional sibling problems/dynamics, very brief disappearance (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! All feedback is very welcomed, I didn’t have anyone to beta so *sighs loudly*. This chapter is kinda angsty and opens up some fun new plot relevant strings. I also want to make it clear that I will be demonstrating Roman putting in work to fix his mess ups in later chapters as well! He’s got some loose ends to tie up, and he will do so. 

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Creativitwins

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord @genderlessfish

Janus’ eyes move to Logan, they seem to communicate without a breath between them. Logan takes nothing but his phone with him when he heads into the hall, but it’s far too late. Remus is nowhere in sight.

Roman takes a shuddering sigh, places his head in his hands, and leans against the makeup counter.

“I’m-I’m sorry-I don’t-I don’t know what that was-”

“Yes, you do.”

The room feels so uncomfortable, the tension could be cut with a knife. Roman knows Janus well enough to know his glare cuts sharper than any weapon could ever. Especially to him. His face stays firmly planted in his hands, hiding from the truth he’s been avoiding for far too long.

“Roman, look at me,” Janus orders. 

He listens and keels back in shame at the look of anger and disappointment on his friend’s face.

“Tell me the truth, why are you doing this?”

It’s a good question. For all it’s worth though, he doesn’t know. Which seems like the cop-out of the century, but truly...he has no clue at the moment. That, however, is not an answer Janus will accept and not one he will accept of himself. 

With a deep breath, he thinks “Alright, Roman. Be honest. Why are you doing this?”

Within moments he gets it and it is the easiest conclusion he’s ever come to. The twins have always had a very sturdy dichotomy. Remus was a messy and wild child growing up, while Roman was clean and polite. When they played, there was always a good and just prince and an evil conniving duke. There were good marks and bad marks. Good ideas and bad ideas. Clean and messy. Good and evil. Something nice and something terrible. Even in the eyes of their parents. It didn’t matter to them as children, Remus even seemed to enjoy it on occasion. Looking back, he only ever liked being “bad” when he got to choose it. When they played in their yard and there was a choice between swimming in the pool and scooping water onto the grass to “drown the bugs”, he was the happiest child in the universe. When the school called their father and told him that Remus had been in another fight, he looked like someone had ripped his soul from his body. It didn’t matter the reason he was fighting, he was “bad”. Roman had always thought the merit of the fight was dictated by why you were fighting in the first place, but apparently, he was wrong. 

The dichotomy they played into was fun! It was! For a while, at least. Then Roman began being berated by everyone around him for acting similarly to his brother. Then Remus was the new social outcast months before they hit middle school. Then it wasn’t fun anymore. Being “good” was stressful and lonely. Teachers, classmates, friends, family, everyone equated “good” with perfect. Perfection is a hard burden to bear alone and twelve years old. Roman’s mind drifts to when they split up. When the dichotomy became less of a two-person game played for fun, and more of an ugly sweater from an aunt that they had to wear to every formal event. It was hard, it was always much too hard. It hurt him. Recently, he realized the much heavier burden of being “bad”. The stress and loneliness must be tenfold when everyone beats into your brain that you are the perfect example of the “Evil Twin” trope. Even your own brother. Your twin. 

“Everyone told me,”

They had been a pair once.

“‘Roman, you’re such a good kid, you’re good at everything.’”

They were a good pair. Even now. He’d worked with him just a month ago to put something together and it was amazing.

“‘There is nothing you can’t do!’”

A few months ago, he was doing something he hadn’t thought possible and making amends with his brother.

“To them, I was independent and self-sufficient,”

He wasn’t either of those things, not then and not now. He had always been a pair.

“I was perfect. I had to be.”

The catch is that he gave up the only person who didn’t care if he was perfect.

“I thought it was true, I-”

The catch is that now his actions dawn on him fully like a wave over the shore.

“I needed them to be right.”

His breath shakes, “Who am I if I’m not that?”

The wave of grief and guilt crashes into him, and all he can think about now is how much he wants to take back every single mean thing he’s ever said about his brother. He feels the sea of emotions that he’s held back take him in and drown him with ferocity. Janus sighs as Roman stares at him through watery eyes.

“Roman. You were doing so well with Remus.”

He’s right, Janus is always right about these things. Two months ago, he had been doing so much better. He and Remus were still bickering in public, but it was fun to him. Though when Remus had “glue-and-feather’d” his makeup bag, he had thrown a little fit, he laughed about it later. Remus had laughed with him. It was light and fun. May, June, and most of July were the most fun he’d had with Remus in years. They’d spent time together, helped each other with chores, ridden to the theatre together. Little, minuscule things. Things that made such a tremendous difference in Roman’s confidence. 

“What happened?”

The same thing that always happened. His mother came home

There was always something different about his mother. When he and Remus had befriended Janus in elementary school, they met someone else's mother for the first time. He realized the day he had met her what made his mom so different. Lillian Devine, or as they called her Mrs.Lilli, was quite possibly the strangest woman they had ever met. The first time they saw her, Janus had seen her outside the school and made a beeline for his mother’s arms. She took him up into her arms, gave him a spin, and hugged him tightly. Roman doesn’t remember much from being that young, but he can remember the first moment he felt jealousy was when Lillian took Janus into that hug and loudly announced that she missed him. Only gone a day at school, and she missed him enough to announce it to the world. He remembers going home to a very big, very empty house. He was grumpy, clutching Remus’ hand like a lifeline as their nanny ushered them into their room and told them she would collect them at dinner time. When she collected them, Roman asked if she had missed them. She said, “I’m not your mother, am I?”.

His mother was different. When she came home, she would offer Roman a hug and give him a big kiss on the cheek. Every time, even the most recent. Like clockwork. Roman, sometimes accompanied by Remus, would wait outside the door for his mother’s car to arrive. She would exit and her heels would clack along the stone pathway. She would kiss him on the cheek when she got up the steps, offer him a quick hug, then begin to speak about her latest adventures in Paris. If Remus stood with him, she would give him her coat. Roman would always take it from him, hang it up, and follow his mother wherever she went. Recently the thought of their mother handing Remus her coat made Roman want to puke. 

They’d had dinner together one night in July. On her most recent visit, she told stories of her new revolutionary fashion line. He told her all about the newest theatre show. Remus made an effort to sit with them, and it was a labour for Roman to look at his mother when he spoke instead of Remus. He was there for all his anecdotes but he would still hang off of every word just to find something to prod at. Remus stood, and his mother’s words echoed in his brain.

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, “If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

He latches onto that conversation, that’s really when the downfall started. 

“Mother, that was quite rude…” He says softly, keeping his eyes on his plate.

“Sometimes you have to tell the truth, my darling.” She laughs then, and Roman wants more than anything to get up and chase his brother.

“Speaking of your theatre production,” He turns his attention back to her, “Your father is thinking of coming this year.”

All thoughts of defending his brother leave his brain entirely. His mouth dries and he feels the onset of excitement and pure panic. At that moment he is consumed by selfishness and tries to push away the panic and think only of this dream come true. 

“He’ll be happy to hear you got the lead again,”

“But Mother, I told you, I’m only-”

“Yes, the understudy. You’ll change that, won’t you, my darling? I didn’t raise you to get second place, did I?”

He was good. What he was doing was good. He couldn’t disappoint his mother, let alone his father. Truth be told, he barely even spoke to the man except for their short and brief calls on the major holidays. He hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years. He’d outgrown the excuse of him being busy but hadn’t outgrown the fire that a visit from his father lights inside him. It became even worse when after two feeble attempts to be rid of Logan, his father called him. Unprompted, unscheduled, and entirely without cause. He buzzed when he picked up the phone. 

“Roman.”

“Hello, father.” He can barely contain the happiness buzzing around in his throat.

“I have made time in my schedule to come to see your stage performance at the request of your mother. She has told me you landed the lead role again, I can’t say I’m not impressed. This is the sixth year in a row she has asked me, you know. I hope there is some merit to your casting director’s choice.”

He can barely keep himself sat down, the urge to jump around is so intense that he nearly dies. “Oh, certainly! I won’t let you down! Oh! And neither will Remus, he’s entirely spectacular in his role this year, I really think you’ll love-”

“I am not attending this production to see your brother. I trust you won’t let me down, because unlike him, you are not a failure. I will see you then, goodbye.”

In one fell swoop, his father had crushed his mood and strengthened his resolve. 

“My father is coming to the production. He called me himself to confirm.”

“The man who talks to you on average thirty minutes a year is coming to our show? Please tell me you’re joking.” The shock is evident in Janus’ voice as he searches Roman’s face desperately to ensure he’s lying.

“I’m not. My mother, she-she told him I got the lead. He told me-He told me that he was impressed with my track record. Then I-Well I started talking about Remus’ spectacular performance and he...He said he wasn’t coming to see Remus and that I-” Roman is on the verge of tears, he feels the urge to crumble like a war-torn kingdom.

Janus places a hand on his shoulder, meant to be a comfort, “That you what?”

Tears track down Roman’s face as he sits and slumps over to physically display his guilt, “That I’m not a failure like him, so I won’t let him down.”

“I am internalizing so much anger at the moment, please give me a second.” Janus takes a deep breath and screams angrily out loud. Roman takes it as initiative and screams as well, but much more wet and sad. 

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

“You didn’t think to tell anyone any of this?” Roman shakes his head and sniffles.

Janus mutters to himself, “Right. Of course, you didn’t. You fool.” 

“We all know you’re not an absolute prick Roman. You’d obviously just pick on Logan for no reason you’re totally not super stressed or something.” He recoils at that, Janus’ face falls.

“I’m just-Roman-You can talk to me,” Janus speaks with an air entirely too soft for him.

What gets Roman’s attention is the tired and slightly sad, “Lord knows that neither of you does enough.”

“I’m here for you, even if you do some very morally shifty things. Especially if it’s all because you’re all stressed out and your daddy issues are taking centre stage in your mind.” He sits beside him now, taking Roman’s hand in his.

“I know how passionate you are, and I can tell that this isn’t how you want to do it. So, you don’t have to. You have...lots of things to make up for and apologize for. But there is still time. As long as you mean it, and you want to do better.”

Weakly, he mutters “I do.”

“Then find a way to apologize and fix it the way you always do.”

“And what way is that?” He asks with a soft smile, to which Janus chuckles under his breath.

“Facing every and all challenges with courage and honesty. Obviously,” Janus raises a thumb and wipes the tears from Roman’s cheeks with a genuine smile. 

So it was settled then. Roman needed to apologize. To everyone. He was already thinking of ways to express his sorrow and regret properly, his brilliant brain spitting out lavish and somewhat laborious ideas. Janus can tell from the way the passionate light returns to his eyes and he smiles. There is work to be done. 

The door slams open and an entirely too panicked Virgil stands in the doorway, “Janus-”

Work to be done later. Virgil’s breath is coming in whooping waves, his body is shaking, makeup smudged from anxious tears rolling down his face. Janus moves with purpose, approaching Virgil like a particularly protective guardian. Virgil grabs the fabric of his hoodie and tries to breathe.

“That’s it, Virgil, you’re alright,” He coos, gently placing a hand on his head.

“We can’t-” Virgil speech is messy and laboured, “We-We can’t find Remus-He’s-He’s not picking up his phone-I’m-We-”

Roman’s blood runs cold. Remus has done this before, sure. But it’s always been silly and fun and not motivated by weeks worth of stress and terrible feelings. Roman knows his words were the cherry on the cake, and nearly slaps himself for still being sat there while his brother was who knows where.

Roman grabs Remus’ bag from the floor, opening it to find his phone. There are almost fifty missed messages, most of them from a contact labelled “The Sexy Kind Of Spider” who he can only assume is Virgil. 

“His phone’s still here,” He sifts through the bag some more, “Along with his jacket and his car keys.” 

“Well, I’d say he can’t have gone far, but we all know how crafty Remus is,” Janus says with a drained expression on his face which only inspires Virgil to clutch his shirt even tighter.

There’s a fire in Roman now, an urge to find his brother’s newest hiding spot and somehow make it up to him. He slings the bag over his shoulder and approaches the pair.

“No need to fear, Virge! I’ll find Remus and bring him back to us as quickly as I can!”

Virgil only nods in response, prompting Janus to gently ruffle his hair. Roman leaves, knowing that the Virgil situation is in very capable hands. On to finding his brother. 

He sends a quick text to Thomas debriefing the situation, playing it off as a “typical Remus situation”, and leaves the building. If Remus had been outside the theatre, he certainly wasn’t anymore. Potentially unfortunately from Roman, a certain nerd was out there looking instead. When they made eye contact, Logan approached. He looked...frazzled. Much more so than Roman had ever seen. 

“There you are. I was wondering when you would come help. Remus is missing and hasn’t answered his phone.”

“He left it here, but I’m going to go and look for him.” 

Logan mutters something under his breath about the inefficiency of something-or-other, but Roman does not have the time to care. Him and Logan talk for another minute, Logan even gives him his number to call when he finds him. Logan says he’s going to get more people to look, Roman only nods. He’s focused in, there’s hope for a new start still and he’ll be damned if he loses it to Remus randomly disappearing forever. He piles into his car with Remus’ bag and starts his search.

Hope turns to fear after the third hour with no signs of his brother. He had checked his house, all the old spots Remus used to love, their whole neighbourhood, Janus’ house, every department store near the theatre. Nothing. It was like a magician cast a spell to make his brother disappear. He’s on the verge of panic. His hands are shaking like a bitch and his breathing wavers with each word he mutters to himself to ease his anxiety. He has to pull over into the parking lot of the convenience store near his home. It wouldn’t be safe for him to drive anywhere anymore. He wonders for a moment how in the hell his brother disappeared so quickly. He only had about thirty minutes on foot ahead of them, how had nobody found him? He almost cries sitting at the wheel. What if he’d been kidnapped? Murdered? Taken for ransom? Wait, that’s the same as kidnapping, isn’t it? God, it didn’t matter now! His brother was gone. For nearly ten minutes he lets the situation hit him hard. Tears roll through his body and he sobs. If Remus was gone forever, what would he do? What could he do? 

A worker from the store comes out from the front. They see Roman and Roman sees them. Roman couldn’t care less that they now look incredibly uncomfortable. They move to the back of the store and from Roman can see, they’re talking to someone. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know why he’s watching. He’s still crying like a baby. The thought of having lost his brother to the universe is still making his head pound. The worker gives whoever they’re talking to a smile, walks back inside the store, and from the till inside they give Roman a reassuring smile as well. He gives them a thumbs up. He takes a deep breath. He needs to pull himself together and find-

When Remus turns the corner from behind the store, Roman goes for the door handle before he can think. The sight of his shivering, tear-stained, obviously upset brother has him moving. He rips the door open and scrambles out. He trips over the edge of the car door and it doesn’t even matter. His palms and knees scrape against the concrete, ripping the skin on his hands and hurting his knees. He doesn’t care. It stings and he doesn’t care. The second he’s on his feet again he bolts at Remus and throws his arms around his chest. His head is firmly locked between Remus’ neck and shoulder, he’s grabbing at his shirt like a lifeline. His breathing is erratic, the tears are back now and back with a vengeance. His knees are shaking. He hadn’t even recognized how terribly and horribly scared of losing his brother he even was. Feeling it now was like the first breath of autumn air in your summer lungs. Remus stands there, just stands there. For a moment, the buzzing of his mind recognizes someone saying his name. Then there are arms around him. He’s being squeezed within an inch of his life. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind again. 

All Roman’s scared voice can squeak out is a loud and cracking, “I’m sorry!”

They stand together in the chilly late-august afternoon air, in full sight of any neighbours or employees at the store, for five minutes. They sway slightly. Remus doesn’t say a word. Not one passes through his lips. Remus pulls away, only to take Roman’s hand and drag him to the car. 

“C’mon you crybaby, let’s go home.”

Roman just nods and doesn’t comment on the tears on Remus’ cheeks. Remus takes the driver’s seat and Roman piles into the passengers’ side. He holds his brother’s bag in his lap, he squeezes it tightly. The drive home is only a few minutes, but Roman’s breathing calms enough to the point where he can rationalize texting. Janus, Logan, and Virgil all get a very simple text, but it’s enough to explain the situation.

‘Found him. We’re going home. He’ll call you in a bit.’

They pull into the driveway, shuffle into the house, take off their shoes. It seems weirdly unreal. It’s like Roman has entered some twilight zone where he and his brother get along. A twilight zone that Roman hopes to make a reality. Like he’s an upset kid again, he takes his brother’s hand and remains resolute in not crying again as he leads him through their empty house. The maid is there, she sees them pass. She doesn’t say a word. She watches the obviously upset twins make their way down the hall and into Roman’s room. Remus lets Roman take him by the shoulders and sit him on his bed. They stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say. 

Roman takes the first step, “You scared me, Remus.”

Remus looks away, “I didn’t think you’d care, really…”

“Of course I’d care! Remus, I-I always cared! And I meant it when I said that I am truly sorry!” He’s crying again, and frankly, he feels a little stupid. 

“I kinda figured when you ran at me crying like a crazy person,” His brother picks up the end of his blanket and wipes his face with it, “You’re crying a lot today.”

“I’ve had a quite terrible afternoon, I think a little emotional distress is warranted.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, Remus smacks the blanket gently across his cheek. 

Remus ushers him in again, nudging his head against Roman’s stomach and wrapping arms around his back. Roman stands between Remus’ legs and holds his head like the precious thing it is. 

There’s a shudder of a breath from each of them. Both of them are so painfully aware of how long it’s been since the last time they sought out each other for comfort like this. There’s something so familiar in it. The warmth that Roman remembers from a childhood spent at each other’s sides. They used to be so close that they shared a bed by choice. He spent nights asleep and calm holding onto his brother. This feels like that. Something so personal and so old. Remus starts to cry again and it’s a messy sob that makes Roman’s ears ring. He squats down to look Remus in the eyes, taking his hands in his. 

“I didn’t mean it, Rem. I don’t think you’re a failure-I-” Remus cries harder, he does his best to wipe the tears with his fingers.

“You-You mean much more to me than I’m sure I've let on in recent years.” There’s a tenderness and honesty in Roman’s voice that feels good and right.

“Mother and Father have been driving me insane, pressuring me to say and do things that I frankly don’t believe in.” The feelings he’s sharing now are lightening something in Roman’s chest, and from the look on Remus’ face, his words are more than on the right track. 

“Not anymore. I promise to you that from now on I am going to do everything I can to make up for the terrible things I’ve done.” 

Remus smiles at him, teary-eyed and covered in snot. It’s not gross to Roman, not right now, because Remus looks better. 

“Can you start by getting me some water?” Remus’s hoarse voice coughs out, Roman is on his feet and goes to the kitchen as quickly as he can. 

With two glasses in hand, he hurries back. He stops at the door. Inside, he hears Remus talking. He’s on the phone with Janus, who sounds more than upset. He goes in, gives Remus the glass, and turns to leave for privacy reasons. His brother grabs at his wrist and tugs him back. He sits beside Remus and they drink their water. He keeps his mouth shut and listens to the ways in which other people love his brother. Janus is angrier than anything else. The heart-palpitating rant that ensues is wildly emotional. He talks about how much the incidents of this afternoon scared everyone, goes off on tangents about the risks of running off and not telling anyone, tells him with the most love in his voice that he was worried about him. Remus promises not to do it again, Janus only sighs in a loving way. Janus brings up his talk with Roman, emphasizes his support of both of them, and lets Remus be on his way. Virgil is next, and he’s quiet. The call is full of little silences, Virgil takes breaks between sentences. Stops mid-word to take a breath and keep his wits. He tells Remus that he scared him. Tells him that he cares about him, no matter what. That he loves him and wants the best for him. He doesn’t use those words exactly, but Roman reads between the lines. 

They’re fairly average calls considering the circumstances and their relationships. Roman sees Remus hesitate as his fingers ghost over the call button under Logan’s contact. He’s saved as “Boobear” with a blue and green heart. It’s by far the most normal of the names on his list. It’s by far the sweetest as well. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, and Remus gives him a shaky smile.

“I’m worried about what he’s going to hate me now or something,” 

It’s almost the stupidest thing Roman had ever heard. He might not get along great with Logan, but he’s not blind. The little nerd is wrapped tightly around Remus’ finger. He’s seen Remus hang off of Logan and say all kinds of crazy and vulgar things, only to get a small reprimand or occasionally an annoyed-but-loving smile. Remus can spout off in a rant about nothing in particular, only to have Logan hang onto every word and provide commentary and factual corrections. There is nothing in the world that could shake away the Logan Lark who was smiling and dancing in a field with his brother only a month ago. 

“With the way he looks at you,” Roman chuckles, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this made him love you more.”

Remus blushes furiously, and instead of dignifying Roman with a response, he hits the call button.

Logan picks up the second it goes through as if he was waiting by his phone for Remus to call him. The intense emotion in his voice makes the twins do a double-take. He’s normally so straight and narrow. Measured. Collected. There is an air to the typical Logan that has vanished now. Roman wonders why he couldn’t show this side on stage more often. 

“Remus? Please tell me this is you.”

To cover up his anxiousness, Remus flirts terribly, “Heya hot-stuff, what’re you wearing?”

There’s a relief filled laugh on the other side of the phone, “There’s my answer. Are you alright?”

“M-hm! You’ll never guess who made me feel better with a shit ton of groveling!” There’s an air to Remus’ voice that conveys humour.

“Remus.” Logan sounds so serious, Roman watches Remus sigh and roll his eyes at the care.

“Yeah, Logie. I’m okay. I mean it.”

Logan speaks again, that same serious voice, “I’ve been worried all afternoon.”

“Yeah...” 

It’s quiet for a second, there’s a tension of the unspoken affection the pair have for each other floating in the room. 

“I feel this is as good a time as any to tell you that I don’t think you’re a failure at all. You-I...In truth, I find you quite interesting to be around. You...You are...immensely talented in my humble opinion. I...While I understand we haven’t been friends for long- I hope it is not presumptuous to say that we are friends-But our relationship is...important to me. I enjoy your company and all you do for me. It...It is a true pleasure to be in your company, Remus. I-” 

Despite the blushing on Remus’ cheeks, he softly mutters “You’re ranting again, Lo-Lo.” 

“My apologies,” Logan nearly whispers out, there is affection seeping from his voice, “However, I meant everything I said.”

“I think you’re the shit too, babes. Sorry for worrying ‘ya.” There’s that affection again, Roman has never heard his brother sound so affectionate.

There’s another pause, Remus speaks again “I’ll make it up to you.”

“If you make a sex joke at a time like this-” Logan scolded, they could almost see his grimace.

“No, I mean it,” Remus laughs, “We can do something together. To make up for it.”

“I’d like that.”

Roman looks to his brother, the phone, and then his brother again. To him, it sounded as if Remus had just asked him out on a date, but he knew well enough that Remus and Logan were probably too dense to understand the implications.

“I’ll uh-I’ll talk to you ‘bout it later then, kay boobear?” Remus asks while staring at Roman, confused about the ‘oh-my-god-you-totally-like-him’ look he’s getting.

“Alright. Goodnight, Remus.” Logan’s voice drips honey and roses as he wishes him goodnight, there is so much Roman can hear wrapped up in that simple sentence and it’s a wonder to him.

“Goodnight.” 

The call ends and Remus lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Roman winds back and smacks Remus with a pillow in excited fervour. 

“You did not tell me you were that in love with Logan!” 

“Wha-You asshole!” Remus takes the pillow and smacks him back, “I am not in love with him!”

“Yeah right! That was the gayest conversation I’ve ever heard!” He nearly shouts, getting up and grabbing more pillows from the collection at the head of his bed.

“We didn’t even say anything juicy!” Teases Remus, grabbing pillows at lightning speed, preparing for what he knows is coming.

“It was in the tone! And don’t say juicy like that you dolt!” 

Remus hits Roman with a pillow to the face. With an excited cackle, Roman launches an attack, throwing as many of his numerous pillows at his brother as he can. There is an all-out war within seconds. Both boys are shrieking and laughing. By the end of the pillow fight, they’re breathless and more joyful than they have been all day.

“How do you feel about a sleepover?” 

Good. Remus feels very good about a sleepover. That night while laying in Roman’s dumb red sheets, cuddling up to his brother in the way that little kids do, he feels happy. Really happy. Genuinely happy. Logan had told him that it was hard to love somebody when they didn’t act as if they loved you back, and he was right. The smartass was always right. Now though, he felt it. His brother had cared, ran for him like he was the only thing that mattered to him in the world. He loves Roman. Apparently, Roman loves him too. His brother hugs him closer in his sleep. That’s more than enough for his brain to quiet tonight. 

Addendum; August 20th -

Remus went missing this afternoon. It worried me greatly, but he turned out alright. Things between the Grimm twins seem to be better. On August 21st, they arrived to practice bickering but holding hands. They both appeared near ecstatic all day, needless to say, it was tiring. There will be no more need for the “Roman Incidents” section of this notebook.

Circled in red pen, written largely at the bottom of the page, underlined three times over. 

Note: Investigate your true feelings for Remus Grimm.

[hesesols]

For Queen & Country

Day 17 of Ichiruki month 2020: Coronation

Summary: She knows her place. She is merely a pretender to a princess and marries the King in the former’s stead.

Rating: M

FF/ao3

.

"Father, what is marriage?"

Byakuya Kuchiki, Lord of Western Rukongai – father, duke, kingmaker; stilled.

Bright violet eyes stared back defiantly, wisps of midnight black hair teasing her nape; taking after his late wife in both temperament and appearance. She was tiny- barely reaching his knees and he easily picked her up, setting her on his lap.

"It is what happens when two people decide to live together forever," he told her.

Here, the child frowned. Forever, sounded far too long. A quarter-hour for lessons and a day for songs under the sun- those were reasonable terms of engagement. She couldn't even sit still for her lessons much less consider something that would mean longer than a day.

Still, she thought of the potential advantages to the arrangement. Miss Hinamori gave her sweets if she behaved during her lessons and sat very very still. Some days, when she was especially good, she would ask Miss Hinamori for chocolate.

The governess had laughed and called her a word- shrewd, she wondered what it meant.

Her eyes narrowed, if she could endure her lessons for sweets and desserts- surely that must mean that there are greater things to be gained from a long-suffering pact as this?

Folding her arms very solemnly, she asked her father to name the price.

"What would it mean for me?"

.

A bride- fine gossamer silk, bolts of colourful fabrics woven of every colour known to man, bone-china, her mother's pearls; blessed, cherished, happy, loved.

A wife- bearer of the world, the silent matriarch, keeper of secrets, manageress of a household and an empty bed; tried, dignified, wise, experienced.

.

But those are visions of a man old and weary of the world, she will learn of the Truth at her own pace. He gave her something less tangible- facts.

"When you marry, you take on your husband's last name and share your fortunes with him, take care of him, obey him, give him ch-"

He caught himself just in time. As fascinating as the conversation was, Lord Byakuya did not fancy a conversation with his daughter on the matter of baby-making and answer her queries on how children were made.

That would come much later and at the hands of an experienced governess, preferably.

He cleared his throat loudly and looked at his daughter who had the most thoughtful expression set on her face while chewing on the ends of her braids. The cogs in her brain turned.

.

Everything?

.

Her young mind was devastated- that meant her favourite cakes and sweets, even that sweet little rabbit that she had rescued, half of everything she had was some horrible boy's future property?

Boys- like Renji, were horrible and mean, they had no appreciation for fine, pretty things like her drawings, they liked to tug her hair and call her names. They were rough, rude and were more wont to destroy than build.

Her dolls- china, and straw-made, still bore scars as a testament to their ill-treatment at the hands of her unruly siblings.

"Must I?"

"Are you a good person?"

She nodded vigorously. She obeyed Miss Hinamori instructions and did what she was told (most of the time). There was also the time when she saved a rabbit from the cook's horrible dogs. The rabbit- she called him Chappy, now lives in a pretty cage and was served fresh carrots daily. Miss Hinamori had praised her and called her kind, so she must be.

"Then you should," he said.

The raven-haired noblewoman in-the-making made a face.

"That is absolutely mad, Father," she tugged on his sleeves and fixed him with her strongest gaze, "why would people do such things?"

"For duty, honour and sometimes, love, my dearest."

.

The girl frowned- 'duty' and 'honour'. She held both words in contempt with a vengeance unbecoming for a Lady of noble status, for it was used with relish when seven year-olds were made to do what they were told.

It was her 'duty' as a future Lady of noble birth to be in bed early, to share her toys with her visiting cousins, to find dancing and other leisurely activities like playing the piano-forte as natural as breathing. And much to her dismay, she would find that as the years passed, the list too grew. Now, her 'duties' even included making 'scintillating' and 'polite' conversations with even the rudest of her associates. The words did not gain any favour at the hands of her father- who was a far more eloquent speaker than Miss Hinamori and infinitely more superior in his knowledge of the world.

Rukia was made to feel stupid and insignificant when they come out to play.

Renji says 'love' with a tone that sealed it as the most despicable thing under the sky and she supposed she would agree with her adopted brother for once- it must be a dangerous and strange thing indeed for some people to willingly share half of everything they owned with another person, especially with icky boys and their grubby hands.

Furthermore, she was reminded of the cloying sweet smell of perfume that her older cousin favoured upon the arrival of her betrothed. The older girl with her sudden airy, breathless tone of voice and her betrothed with the oddest smile on his face that frankly made him look foolish. Miss Hinamori had claimed that it was because it was a love match between the young couple and it did not happen often in people of her circle.

She wrinkled her nose and prayed that she never succumbed to it.

.

"Father," she began solemnly, "I do not think I shall ever marry."

The normally stoic noble smiled at her. Children have such amusing ideas and thoughts. Keeping his face straight and trying very hard to remain stern, he told her.

"We shall see."'

.

.

.

Inevitably, she learns.

Love is tradition- Kuchiki Manor in all its daunting glory and untouched forest, family- her brothers, insufferably rude as they may be, warmth- her father, in his infinite wisdom and sagacity, companionship- Miss Hinamori, her surrogate mother and confidante.

It is like wine- aging well with the passage of time and a fruit of labour known only to those who have endured and triumphed together and then content in the arms of each other, have stayed. It is tender- kisses on the cheeks, bear hugs and booming laughter, and it grows out of the fondness of one's heart and intimate wishes.

Marriage on the other hand is sudden and tempestuous. It is the unsuspecting storm that came with all the fury known to God, the end to unspoken promises and ill-kept vows.

It comes when a Royal Princess flees the machinations of her own Father. It comes at the bidding of a Mad King with even wilder ambitions- thinly-veiled threats and open affronts. It comes with her dowry-horses laden with riches, ballads and tapestries, rolls of expensive furs and leather skins, a procession of servants, craftsmen, artisan- bearing coat of arms, her motherland's pride, the history and culture of her people- an entourage befitting of a Royal Princess; and ends with her hand offered on a golden pedestal.

It is duty and honour, the sealing of two nations bound now in kinship- it is momentous, sweeping and public.

It is anything but her wedding.

.

She knows her place. She is merely a pretender to a princess and marries the King in the former's stead.

.

.

She stood tall as she said goodbye to all that she has ever known to be home. Her brothers said very little and too much all at once. Her sacrifice burnt them and that mark singed the family tapestry. Hath they hung their heads down for shame or sorrow?

Her father appeared- stoic and wordlessly pressed her mother's pearls into her hands.

.

.

She ascends the steps to the throne room looming ahead- a sea of unknown faces and stunned silence. She is veiled and shrouded in white- made to stand next to a man she was to call husband for all eternity and become mother to his nation. She hears the words and murmurs of the clergyman, gives her consent when the holy man bids her to, bows when it is expected of her- but processes very little.

Her husband-she stares at the brown-eyed stranger with wild hair and watches with muted horror as he slides the golden band onto her finger.

.

.

"Play the game as you were taught to," he told her. Scarcely daring to meet her eyes, he gripped her hands tight. Yes of course, the charade must hold- should the truth be made public, the consequences will be severe. He laid another necklace- heavier in weight and heritage; around her neck and clasped it shut.

It felt like a sentence- a Deadman's noose hanging around her neck. He kissed her cheeks.

"For duty and honour- Lady Rukia Kuchiki."

.

.

"For as long as I live, I shall cherish you and it is my hope that our union shall beget a prosperous future for both kingdoms."

His words sound like a scripted play. She grips his hand perhaps a little tighter in response- a show; she must always let them see who they want to see- a bride, a happy, beautiful, willing bride who is elated at her marriage to a young King.

She smiles and he places the jewel-encrusted tiara upon her head- her crowning glory.

The heavy weight and the gravity of her decision sink into her. She will serve the Crown and her King- she will be a good wife, she will honour her vows, and she will be Queen.

"My kingdom is now your home and the fate of her people- her people shall honour you as their Queen."

.

.

"Remember your lessons," he whispered as she turned to leave. The Court across the sea may have different heralds and customs, may style and culture themselves differently, and favour soaring towers instead of domes, but all Courts are snake pits. Know one and you know them all.

She looked into his eyes and nodded.

She marched out of the centuries-old manor- head held high, shoulders squared for upon it laid the fate and honour of her household. She spared no further glances at the Manor as she climbed into the carriage- within her Kingdom at least, Lady Rukia Kuchiki has ceased to exist the moment it was decided that she would marry a King in the eloped princess's stead.

.

.

She keeps her gaze on her husband- high cheekbones, strong jawline, thin lips, deep set eyes of a curious shade between brown and gold. She sees a man in his prime, broad-shouldered and tall- shaped and molded as though he was one of those heathen Gods.

She is young but not naïve. Trepidation lines her thoughts.

What does he have in mind for her- Queen, envoy, impostor?

He bends down slightly to unveil her and kisses her on her lips chastely. When he draws away, he remains expressionless and she reads nothing from his eyes. The erupting cheers from the crowd distract her and she heaves a breath of relief.

How odd it is that a duke's daughter who has never even dreamt of seeing the blue sea, would someday find herself heralding a procession of her nation's finest to a Court so many leagues away, of taking part in a scandalous hoax for the better of two kingdoms.

First princess, now queen to a gilded nation of hyphenated names and odd houses, married to a man whose first name she doesn't even know.

Perhaps such is the strange way of life.

.

.

.

It is as expected, a politically-fuelled marriage between him and his foreign bride.

His ministers of course, waxed poetries of her beauty and grace. She is to bring with her the riches from the Court beyond the sea, skills and knowledge from another kingdom, books written and inventions made from the best amongst their contemporaries, spices and trade.

Her blood is old, the noblemen of his Court reminded him- a scion of a noble and powerful kingdom, steep in tradition and a well-known history of bearing prodigious sons. She will bear him strong heirs- sons to carry forth his name and legacy.

What more should a young king, still childless and only sisters for siblings, desire? It is no secret of course, should he die now, issueless- the throne will go to a viscount from another kingdom- a son of his great-grandaunt's bloodline, a man who has never even set foot on this land.

Yet as he regards his young wife, he frowns; she is not what he expected.

.

"Who are you?"

She stiffens but the smile on her face doesn't falter. If nothing else, he at least commends her on her acting and composure.

"What do you mean, my lord?"

He rolls his eyes, takes another sip of the wine as he keeps his hand on the small of her back, leaning in to whisper to her ears only.

"You're not the Princess."

He has seen the Princess Orihime once. Though from afar and hidden in the shadows, while he was passing through a neighbouring kingdom under the guise of a different name. A serendipitous affair that ends with a dance for the two of them, and a kiss on the back of her hand as is proper.

This woman in front of him, heralded by so many as beautiful, virtuous and kind, and a million other things associated with that of the paragon of queenliness, and for all intents and purposes, his wife and future mother of his unborn children; is not that woman.

The two are nothing alike.

Her smile quivers- it's the first crack in her defences.

"You are mistaken, my lord. I am the Princess Orihime."

They're surrounded by courtiers. Each one more devious and sycophantic than the other; Rukia is determined to clench her teeth and bear through the confrontation. To any and all onlookers, they must appear to be, at all times, unruffled and polished.

He says nothing more after that.

A lord so-and-so comes forward to present himself and Rukia contents herself by letting her mind wander while the portly man dawdles on about the festivity of the occasion, on what a grand wedding it was, repeats the word 'grandeur' and 'blessed' for at least three more times before the King sends him away and in parting, flourishes with a deep bow, murmuring how he wishes only the very best for the royal couple.

Neither of said couple deigns to utter a syllable more to each other as the festivities and merry-making continues.

.

.

The King's Bedchamber is where they retire for the first night to they consummate their marriage and mark their beginning as a pair- from henceforth, princess and daughter no more, but a Queen she will be- till Death spares them the misery.

Moonlight pours forth from the open window into the darkly lit room. Rukia is clad only in the sheerest of silk and bare underneath it. She feels vulnerable under his gaze, more so when his hands grab her by the wrist and tugs her towards him.

Alone with no interruptions from her ladies-in-waiting and his stewards, he continues with the unrelenting rounds of questions, fingers digging deep into her flesh.

He asks her again.

"Who are you?"

She sighs, lowering her gaze respectfully, recites it all with an even tone.

"I am Princess Orihime. I—"

He laughs- mirthless and cruel, cutting her short when the hold on her arm becomes tight enough to bruise. She hisses in response.

"No more lies. Or would you prefer me calling you by another woman's name even when we are in bed?"

She clamps her mouth shut.

"It's not that hard. I only need a name."

Silence still.

"Well if you are so unwilling. Perhaps a member of the entourage would be more forthcomi—"

"My name is Rukia."

The glare she shoots him is fierce and not at all like the simpering front she puts up.

"Who are you, Rukia?"

She bites her lips.

"A nobody."

"And why would they send me a nobody instead of the Princess, Rukia?"

Her breath hitches when his arm brushes against her side, glide across the rise of her breasts and leans in close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on hers. Fingers busy themselves with the hemline of her nightdress, cut far shorter than she is used to.

"I don't know."

"Where is the Princess, Rukia?"

She keeps quiet, clenches her fists tight enough that her nails dig into her palm. She mustn't say a word or give away the unfortunate circumstances that brought her to him, to this country and Court. The Mad King is watching even now, his spies lurking among her entourage and numerous attendants.

Her family- her father and brothers are all under his mercy.

She can't.

The price of failing is much too steep for her to bear.

"I-I don't know."

She looks at the young King dead in the eyes and lies anyway, uncaring if he sees past her lies or takes them at face value.

"Oh, is that so?"

There is a rip in her gown. The flimsy material gives way with a rough tug and Rukia steels herself, looking into her husband's eyes- amber, dark, knowing; as she steps out of the puddle of ruined silk and kisses him.

He tastes of wine- the richness of it lingering on his lips; and secrets- many of which she will never be privy to, but that's fine too. She has no use of his heart. The stiffness in the set of his shoulders gives way when she winds her arms around his neck and cards her fingers through his hair.

Sex, she has been told, serves as a good distraction- if nothing else.

He doesn't fight her.

There's a growl of approval as sinewy arms snake around her slim waist and pulls her flush along his body and under him on the bed as he does away with his clothes. Underneath them, he is broad-chested and beautiful- the lines of his body carved and sculpted like a work of art with perfection in mind. A scar here, a mark there; a trail of wispy golden hair that marks the length of his torso, leading to the –

"My eyes are here," he teases.

A collision of lips, teeth and tongues as his lips find hers again. There is heat there, a fire that she stokes when her hand brushes against his arousal- intentional or artless, she doesn't know; not when his molten gaze strips her down to her very core of neediness.

The suppleness of her flesh and her tender sex is his to do as he sees fit. His fingers tease at her nipples, parting the folds of her dripping sex and she gasps as they slide knuckle-deep into her.

"Ichigo," he tells her in between heavy grunts.

"W-What?"

She is more than a little breathless under him and the way her sex clenches and tightens- she hisses. How meaningless words have become.

"My name. You should know. That's the name you should be screaming out when I make you come."

She doesn't remember much after.

The rest of the night is a blur and blend of heady emotions, the stickiness of his spent on her inner thighs- soft moans barely recognizable as hers while he sinks into her- heavy with want, and makes a home in her warmth. Oh quivering muscles, the tight coil of nerves unravelling, the snap of his hips and the gleam in his eyes- golden and wild.

She soars and peaks with him in tandem until dawn is but moments away and he withdraws with a soft murmur.

"Sleep."

.

.

In the morning when her ladies-in-waiting find her, she is covered in bruises and bites. The ruined silk- a weak excuse for a dress to begin with- is in tatters on the floor and the unmistakable stains on the sheets mark the sharing of sins and desires.

She is sore and aching over patches of black and blue. She doesn't want company.

But company stays.

The King's orders they crow and the smiling ladies titter, nervously ushering her into a warm bath with scented oils and rose petals. The nice-smelling blend they lather into her hair sooths her tired body, enough for her to regain thoughts and some use of her limbs.

The King is an ardent lover and thorough in his exploration of her. Even now, Rukia doesn't think she has the energy left within her to even crawl unless prompted.

"Is he everything you had imagined?"

Rukia flashes back to her childhood memories. Of her at her father's lap- on the transactional nature of marriages and bridal price and dowries, and the meaning of duty, honour and love; she laughs—

And doesn't stop until tears stream down her face.

.

.

.

FF/ao3

Sneak peek for IR royalty AU dedicated to the lovely @animeokaachan​.

I couldn’t resist.

Review, like, comment, reblog or drop me an ask to send some love my way.

[chenqingssuibian]

be not afraid (for i’m here tonight)

[crossposted on ao3]

tagging @goldencorecrunches because it was their post that inspired this!! 

A baby cries in Lotus Pier. His face is so red the dot between his eyebrows, a symbol of his sect, has disappeared entirely into it, wailing shrill as he writhed in his crib. He is louder than the wind and rain outside, than the creaking of the buildings and the rustle of the trees and the howling. Wild dogs have been roaming the streets, as of late, feral and thin and dangerous, and as all dogs, they moved in pacts. In a few hours when the storm breaks, Jiang Cheng would be leading a hunt for them. He would need his strength, and that meant he needed rest, but - 

But a baby cries in Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng sits up in bed. The healers had said it wasn’t colic, that the baby is perfectly healthy, that there was nothing to be done but let him cry. The mothers he’d asked had said that it was natural, even, for a child like him to cry the way he does. Nothing soothes him, when he’s like this, and Jiang Cheng is almost at his breaking point.

A-jie, he thinks, rising from bed. Even if he made the effort to make his steps light, it wouldn’t matter, so he doesn’t, coming to stand beside the bassinet. Your son’s face is purple. He is still a little awkward, when he picks his nephew up; Jin Ling pauses in his wailing, big wet eyes blinking in surprise as Jiang Cheng settles him against his chest. As all good things in Jiang Cheng’s life, it does not last. The second those eyes lock on Jiang Cheng’s tired, pale face, Jin Ling opens his little mouth and lets out the loudest cry yet. Jiang Cheng’s head throbs painfully, and he can almost feel the pulses of pain vibrating in his teeth. “I know, A-Ling,” he sighs, bouncing the baby lightly and getting nothing in return but more shrill crying. “I’m not who you want to see. I’m sorry.”

A-Ling is not comforted. Jiang Cheng shifts his weight from one foot to the other, swaying as he rubs the baby’s back. Tears soak through the fabric of his inner robes, and Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut. A-Ling sobs, and he’s trying to blink back the sting in his own eyes, resting his cheek against the dark, downy hair on the baby’s head. “I miss them, too.” 

And he did. Jin Zixuan was not his friend, per se, nor his favorite Jin, but A-jie had loved him with everything she had and when he’d died, part of her had, too. He’d only seen Jin ZIxuan with a-ling once, but the awe and love he’d seen on his face had been too much to bare, too pure to ever forget. And it went without saying that he missed A-jie - to suggest otherwise would be like denying that the sun rises in the east. Every breath he takes, he misses her. He can feel her in every room of Lotus Pier, can see her sitting on the dock with a lotus in her hair, feet skimming the surface of the water. A-jie is everywhere and everything and as A-Ling sobs against his chest he misses her even more, longs for her to be here to soothe her son the way only a mother can.

But A-jie is dead, has been for a month now. A-Ling probably remembers her laugh, now, but soon that will fade and then he will know nothing of her at all. The knowledge that his nephew will never know her soft voice, her gentle touch, burns in his chest brighter than his rage. Wei Wuxian, he thinks, jaw clenching. His heart aches. He hates him, hates the things he’d taken from Jiang Cheng, from Jin Ling, hates that he can’t bring himself to get rid of his things or burn his clothes or believe he’s truly dead. Because if Wei Wuxian really did die, then Jiang Cheng is even more alone, with nothing but his rage and a sealed room of trinkets and-

A-Ling lets out a wail, and Jiang Cheng loosens his hold, wills his body to relax. “Sorry,” he whispers, voice lost in the wind and the rain and that crying that rings in his ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Jiu-jiu’s sorry, A-Ling.” But A-Ling will not be mollified. He has his grandmother’s temper, it seems, because he just keeps shrieking in Jiang Cheng’s ear. He raises his eyes to the ceiling, thinks, A-jie, what would you have done?

He is his mother’s son. She had rarely soothed him, as a child. He cannot remember her touch. Had she sung to him? Or had that been A-jie’s job? His father’s affection had always been rare, but it was even rarer after Wei Wuxian came to them, and he can’t remember his touch, either. Just A-jie, always her, dabbing at his feverish face and making him soup and holding his hand when he’s scared. If she sang to him, he cannot remember. But a song comes to him anyway, along with a memory, and Jiang Cheng is singing despite himself. It scratches in his throat, voice rough from a long day of training disciples and long years of disuse. But when Jiang Cheng glances down at A-Ling, he’s sniffling, tears clinging to his lashes as he stares up at him.

So Jiang Cheng keeps singing.

He sways from foot to foot, taking slow steps around his bedroom. If the song had words once, Jiang Cheng does not know them, but he knows the melody and if this is what it takes to stop his nephew’s tears that so be it. He can feel a phantom hand in his hair, a thumb stroking his cheek, and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and keeps on. His voice grows more confident with every minute, and A-Ling snuggles into his shoulder, pressing his warm forehead against the crook of his neck. The scent of lotus and rich soil fills his nose.

When A-Ling finally, finally falls asleep, Jiang Cheng allows himself a smile. 

---

For the first time in a month, there is silence at Lotus Pier. Huang Li is afraid. He stands outside the door of Jiang-zongzhu with three other disciples - they were on watch duty together, and it had been Zhong Sicheng had been the first to notice the eerie quiet. He is pale as a sheet beside Huang Li, his round eyes bulging as he presses his lips together. There is no storm now that day’s broken. There is no excuse that Huang Li can use to explain away the quiet in this corridor.

“They probably just passed out from exhaustion... Right?” Mei Shu says, holding tightly to his sword. He is the youngest of them, at only thirteen, without a courtesy name. Despite that, he was one of the first to join the revitalized YunmengJiang sect, along with his brother, Mei Dejun, who stands beside him. He had served in the Sunshot Campaign, and therefore is nearly as respected as the sect leader himself.

“No way,” Mei Dejun says, staring at the closed door with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You were a colicky baby, just like the young master - trust me, even when you exhausted yourself, you found a way to make noise. And Jiang-zongzhu wouldn’t pass out from exhaustion alone. He’s Jiang-zongzhu.”

“Then...” Zhong Sicheng glances away from the door, eyes shining. “We only have two options, don’t we? Either Jiang-zongzhu got Jin-gongzi asleep-”

“Doubtful,” Mei Dejun cuts in, earning a withering glare from Zhong Sicheng.

“He either got the baby to sleep,” Zhong Sicheng repeats, voice going high-pitched, “Or something happened.”

“Jiang-zongzhu wouldn’t have let anything happen to A-Ling,” Mei Shu says, with the faith and confidence of a child who has not yet been failed by his hero. “And we would’ve noticed if someone had snuck in!”

“Maybe your Jun-ge would’ve,” Huang Li says, scowling at the younger boy, “But you wouldn’t. You were asleep on your feet!” Mei Shu reddens, eyes growing wet, and opens his mouth to speak.

“You-”

“Stop.” Mei Shu’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click as his brother’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder. He glares at Huang Li with barely-concealed contempt, even though Huang Li is five years older and fifty pounds heavier and has wiped the floor with him more than once. He sneers as Mei Dejun continues. “We won’t know until we open the door. Keep your voices down. If we wake that damn baby, Jiang-zongzhu will do more than make us do everyone’s laundry for a week.”

Zhong Sicheng nods. It’s perhaps the first time he’s ever agreed with Mei Dejun, and it’s clear on is face that he hates doing so. “I’ll open it,” he says, a determined sheen to his eyes. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be patrolling here, anyway, so I won’t get in trouble for leaving my station. Stay out of sight. If something happened...”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Mei Dejun says. In the dim morning light, he still manages to look every inch the head disciple he will be. Mei Shu nods, jutting out his little chin, and Huang Li sighs in resignation. They’re all going to get whipped by Zidian, he’s sure of it. The three of them move down the hall, close enough to hear everything but far enough away that they won’t be seen unless Jiang-zongzhu comes out to find them.

“Zongzhu?” Zhong Sicheng knocks lightly on the door, face pinched, and waits for a response. He glances over to where the three of them are hidden, puts on his bravest face, and pushes the door open. “Zongzhu, I’m coming in.” He does not shut the door behind him, giving him what would be a quick and easy escape if it wasn’t Sandu Shengshou’s private quarters he’s entering without permission. The wood creaks quietly beneath his feet, and his purple robes swish as he enters, and then - 

Silence. They sit in silence for five whole minutes while Huang Li fidgets and Mei Shu’s worried stares growing increasingly frantic and Mei Dejun’s furrowed brow grows more intense. Then, finally, blessedly, Zhong Sicheng steps out of Jiang-zongzhu’s room, face blank. Huang Li wants to kiss him, if only in thanks for breaking the tension. Mei Shu follows him as he approaches, craning his neck to look around him into the room. “Zhong-ge,” he says, voice hushed. “Is... Is everything alright?”

Zhong Sicheng opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out. Wordlessly, he steps aside, letting Huang Li and Mei Shu have a clear view into the room.

Despite the sparse decoration, it is the most opulent room Huang Li has ever seen in Lotus Pier. The calming scent of lotus lingers in the air, and he steps forward to chase it as his eyes dart around the room. It is nothing like the barracks, nothing at all - they could fit ten people in here, easy, with plenty of room left for more if desired. On the wall, a sword is mounted, one Huang Li has never seen; at first he thinks it’s a carving, but would a carving be in a place of honor? What kind of sword has a hilt and scabbard that look like that, like driftwood twisted in the waves? A tea set sits at the table below it, fine cups and kettle made of jade. The cushions are Yunmeng purple, just like the wall hanging of their sect symbol, and the gauzy curtains of the bed - 

The bed. 

On the bed, curled up in only his inner robe, dark hair loose and tangled beneath his head, lay Jiang-zongzhu. This in and of itself isn’t so strange - everyone sleeps. The thing that made Huang Li’s breath catch in his throat isn’t, exactly, the smooth skin of Jiang-zongzhu’s chest on display, though that certainly doesn’t help matters. No, it’s the sleeping bundle he holds tight against himself that does it; Jin Ling, the loudest baby he’d ever had the misfortune of hearing, is clinging to his uncle’s loose robe, tiny mouth open and eyes darting beneath closed lids as he dreamed. It is the quietest, and therefore, cutest, Huang Li has ever seen him, and his heart goes thump-thump-thump in his chest with the sudden swell of affection. One of Jin Ling’s hands is curled around Jiang-zongzhu’s long, thin pinkie. Jiang-zongzhu is smiling in his sleep. He looks so much younger, Huang Li realizes. He looks his age. Barely three years older than Huang Li himself.

“Mei Shu,” Huang Li says, voice hoarse. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Mei Shu,” he says again. The boy just hums. Huang Li would look to see if he’s gaping like a fish, but that would mean looking away from the bed, and that is the last thing he wants to do. “We’re not dreaming, are we?”

“Dreaming about what - oh.” Mei Dejun cuts off, and Huang Li really wishes he could tear his eyes away because Mei Dejun has never sounded surprised in the entire time he’s known the man. “Oh, that’s precious.”

“That’s one word for it,” Huang Li says, an almost giddy grin spreading on his face. “Who would’ve thought? Jiang-zongzhu is a cuddler.”

“They’re so cute,” Mei Shu coos, awe clear in his voice. Huang Li looks over, finally, and sees that he is, in fact, gaping like a fish, ears burning red. “I’ve never seen Jiang-zongzhu look so... Happy.”

“Not a lot to be happy about,” Mei Dejun says, voice low, “when your entire family is gone.” It is a reality they have all had to be reminded of, once or twice. That Jiang-zongzhu lost his sister and his brother just a month ago, that he lost his parents and his friends in the Wen attack only three years ago, that he’s rebuilt the sect and his life by clawing the pieces back together with his bare, bloody hands. It's why they all chose to follow him. Huang Li’s shoulders slump as he watches uncle and nephew cling to each other in their sleep, heart aching.

“Not all of it,” Mei Shu whispers. There is hope on his face when Huang Li looks over, and Mei Shu looks up at him to give a small smile. Huang Li had never noticed it before, but he has dimples. “They’ve got each other, don’t they? And us, now. Neither of them are alone anymore.”

For a moment, they are all quiet. Huang Li wishes he could believe as easily and whole-heartedly as Mei Shu that everything would be alright. There is truth to what he says, Huang Li knows, but only the simple truth of a child. The pain in Jiang-zongzhu’s heart may never fade, even if he gets married and has fifteen kids. Huang Li’s pain certainly hasn’t left him, or Zhong Sicheng, nevermind Mei Shu’s gege, whose pent-up anger and heartache comes out daily on the training fields. Huang Li’s got the bruises to prove it.

It is Zhong Sicheng who speaks. “We shouldn’t wake them,” he says, careful as he steps back toward the door. “Or tell anyone what we saw.”

Fat chance, Huang Li thinks. “Right,” Huang Li says, taking Mei Shu’s sleeve to tug him along. “C’mon. We need to get back to our posts.”

---

There is song in Lotus Pier.

Three times a day, it can be heard; a low, lovely baritone that echoes over the lotus ponds and bounces off the rooftops. The owner of the voice is well-known, though no one has the audacity to name him. The songs he sings change over the months, but the disciples like one best. It’s a haunting lullaby, the kind that leaves you feeling hollow in your bones and demands listeners. A ballad long forgotten, some say. Others think the singer composed it himself, that it was borne from the ceaseless suffering he faced. The only thing anyone agrees on is that it isn't a song from Yunmeng, or the surrounding areas, for that matter.

Sometimes, Huang Li thinks he hears a flute playing along, twining around the voice and making it whole.

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher’s Companion Pt.4/6

(Other parts on my masterlist/AO3)

Geralt limped down the path away from the mountains with the fucking lute strapped to his back. What the fuck was he going to do with a fucking lute?

He snarled and tugged at Roach’s reins before putting one foot, his less injured side, in the stirrup and pulling himself up onto the horse. The road was dusty and sun was scorching hot in the sky. His head was pounding as the bright light burned his eyes. His eyes weren’t adjusting well from the dark cave to the sudden brightness of the valley. His senses were too alert following the bashing he’d taken by the elves.

Filavandrel had put a stop to Toruviel’s ruthless attacks but the she-elf had been vicious and Geralt hadn’t been prepared to fight her unless he had to to defend his life. As a result he now had a painfully twisted knee from where the elf had knelt on it. It had all been anticlimactic after he’d managed to talk the elf king down from killing him and gold had passed hands. Filavandrel had given him the lute as a way to apologise for his injuries.

He scoffed.

He supposed he could sell it, but he knew nothing about lutes and any merchant with a brain would probably give him half of what the instrument was worth. Perhaps he could try and keep it safe until Jaskier found him again.

He scowled and pushed that thought away.

He’d been trying not to think about Jaskier, the lad he’d trained by the river, the kid so determined to become a friend and a companion to him, and the young man who’d rejected Geralt’s offer. Geralt was used to not feeling much. He’d been trained to suppress emotions from an early age but Jaskier’s rejection had stung.

When the boy had first begged Geralt for a chance to tag along, Geralt had been sure that it was just the foolish dreams of a naive child, but then when he’d stumbled across Lettenhove, Jaskier had been bitterly disappointed that Geralt hadn’t come sooner. He’d given up his time to train the boy because he’d thought that was what he wanted.

Geralt hadn’t intended to see him again until he was eighteen but Destiny had intervened. He’d ran into Jaskier at Oxenfurt and the young bard had treated him with such care and kindness that Geralt hadn’t been able to resist asking him along.

But Jaskier had said no.

He hadn’t been expecting that. He was angry at himself for letting his guards down, for letting hope in. Of course Jaskier had said no. By sixteen he’d started to make a life for himself. Why would he throw that all away for a witcher?

Geralt grunted. “Come on Roach.”

His mare picked up pace into a light trot back towards Upper Posada. He would tell Nettly that the devil problem was solved and head on his way. He’d keep the traitorous lute for now. He’d give it another two years before selling it. A voice in the back of his head told him he could always visit Oxenfurt to see if Jaskier was there, but he growled and ignored it.

If Jaskier wanted the damn lute then he would have to come and get it.

____________

Geralt grumbled all the way down the path from Kaer Morhen. He hadn’t meant to pick up Jaskier’s lute again. He’d told himself he would carry it for two years and those two years were up. He had intended on leaving the damned thing up at the keep. If the bard wanted a possibly enchanted elven lute then he would find Geralt, just like he’d promised.

He wasn’t sure why Jaskier had gotten under his skin so much. He was just a human.

Geralt growled at this own thoughts and spurred Roach on faster.

He was used to humans taking back their word. Why was this time bothering him so much?

He accepted his foul mood and headed back into the world, feeling a lot less rested than he normally did after wintering at Kaer Morhen. Lambert had been particularly irritating this year. The redhead had picked up on his bad mood and had taken every opportunity to piss him off, even Eskel, who was usually more tolerant of Geralt’s moods, had had enough. They’d practically thrown him from the keep at the first sign of melting snow.

The lute was heavy weight on his back, heavier than it had any right to be. It was like siren’s call back to Oxenfurt.

He should burn the damned thing for firewood.

Then maybe Jaskier would let him go, would let him get some fucking sleep.

But of course, he wouldn’t do that. The lute wasn’t his. It had been a long time since he’d thought of the lute as his. It was Jaskier’s lute now. Geralt was just looking after it for him. He’d been looking after it for two years and now he was too fucking stubborn to give up. The bard would not win this.

He made his way to the nearest village and subsequent tavern. He needed a drink, a celebration of spring was the excuse he told himself. The tavern was unusually lively for this far north, especially this early in the spring. He almost turned away when he heard the chatter from inside and the strum of lute strings. He wasn’t in the mood for music, but he couldn’t walk away.

There was something about the bard’s voice.

Something familiar.

He took Roach to the stables and headed inside. His eyes immediately met a pair of vibrant cornflower blue ones. Jaskier winked at him as he sang and spun round in a playful dance. The bard hadn’t even missed a beat. Geralt smiled softly as made his way to the bar, Jaskier had been expecting him. He’d been looking for him, and Geralt suddenly felt lighter than he had in years.

He traded coins for ale and sat down in the corner of the tavern to wait for Jaskier to finish his performance. He was singing a tale about bandits lurking in the forests waiting to kidnap innocent passers-by, about the knight in shining armour who would save them, a knight that sounded remarkably similar to Geralt.

He scoffed and shook his head with a fond smile. Sentimental fool. Geralt was no knight, maybe once upon a dream but that notion had been burnt out of his heart very early on in his life as a witcher.

Jaskier had yet to learn that lesson.

“I was saving this table for a friend.” Jaskier was leaning against a nearby beam and smirking at him.

He’d grown… again.

Geralt tilted his head as he took note of the changes. There was very little left of the young lordling he’d first met twelve years ago. Julian had been raised in a strict noble family, and whilst he’d always been petulant, he’d held himself like a young noble should. Jaskier, the man before him, was nothing like that. He was relaxed and open in his body language, more expressive than anyone Geralt had ever seen, a complete open book.

The only thing that hadn’t changed were his eyes.

Geralt could still see the stubborn young lad that had been determined to give Geralt his pocket money in those eyes. The boy who could not get the grip right on his sword, and even the younger bard that he’d found on the floor outside a tavern in Oxenfurt and who’d later tended to his wounds.

He raised an eyebrow at the bard but made no attempt to move from his seat.

“Sit down, bard.” He smirked at his old friend.

“Always so demanding.” Jaskier rolled his eyes but slid into the seat. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“And you never seem to stop changing.” Geralt noted.

Jaskier beamed. “Well you know what they say about opposites, dear witcher.”

Geralt scoffed. “Opposites attract. This isn’t one of your ballads, Jaskier, and I’m hardly a knight.”

“Oh, you noticed that did you?” Jaskier’s cheeks flushed slightly but his smile didn’t falter.

Geralt grunted and pushed the drink he’d bought for Jaskier across the table.

Jaskier took it eagerly and downed half of it in one go before launching into a dramatic retelling of his last four years. The bard had been travelling all over the Continent. He’d spent some time in the Royal Court at Cintra before the wanderlust had hit him and he’d ran off back onto the path. After that he’d spent time in temple of Melitele with Nenneke honing his medical skills with the priestess. Geralt interrupted to ask after the priestess, he’d known her for many years, she was always kind to him.

“Oh the sly devil never mentioned she knew you!” Jaskier gaped. “Gods, I must have mentioned you half a dozen times.”

Jaskier grinned sheepishly, his cheeks rosy from the ale.

“Nenneke knows how to keep her mouth shut, a concept that is unknown to you, Jaskier.” Geralt teased.

Jaskier stammered and pointed at him. “Oi! I’ll have you know I am very good at keeping my mouth shut!”

Geralt huffed a laugh.

“Oh fuck off, I mean it, witcher. I’ll have you know that after the temple and dipped my toe into a more clandestine business.” Jaskier pouted.

“A spy? You?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

Jaskier tilted his head. “Me, maybe, maybe not. You don’t get to know that, witcher.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Who for? Temeria?”

“Redania. Oh fuck off!” Jaskier grumbled. “I was good at it! Nobody suspects a bard, but I found all the politics and unnecessary bureaucracy a bore so I got out and came to find you!”

Geralt felt himself smile, betrayed by the emotions that witchers weren’t even meant to have. He tried to hide the smile behind his drink but he was too slow. Jaskier had seen it and latched on like a dog with a bone.

“Oh ho ho! You missed me!” He announced gleefully. “Aww, Geralt. I didn’t know you cared.”

“Fuck off, bard.” He grumbled into his drink.

“Nah. I’d rather stay this time.” Jaskier tilted his head and gave Geralt, what could only be described as, puppy eyes. “If the offer is still open, that is?”

Geralt grunted with a slight nod of his head.

Jaskier jumped to his feet and patted Geralt on the shoulder. “Excellent! I do have a room for the night if you wanted to stay or we could head out now. I’ll follow your lead, witcher.”

Geralt considered the room. On one hand a free room for the night wasn’t to be sniffed at, on the other hand he was itching to get back on the path. Jaskier must have sensed his hesitation and nodded to himself.

“Let me grab my stuff and tell them my room will be available.” Jaskier winked. “But don’t go running off without me, Geralt.”

Jaskier poked him on the nose. Geralt blinked and frowned.

Why had he wanted to find Jaskier again?

He smiled and shook his head as Jaskier strutted up to the bar. Geralt rolled his eyes at the cocky young bard. Oxenfurt had treated him well. He exuded ease and confidence and joy in a way that had been stifled when he’d been younger. Geralt found it suited Jaskier more this way. He enjoyed basking in the warmth his old friend radiated. It made the world seem a little brighter.

They stayed in the tavern long enough to get a hot meal and supplies before heading to the stables. Geralt had forgotten all about the lute strapped to Roach’s saddlebags until Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he ran over to the mare.

“Geralt!!” He cried. “What is that?!”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were a bard?”

“Oh yes, well obvious I know what it is!” Jaskier put one hand on his hip and frowned at Geralt. “But why do you have it?”

Geralt shrugged. “Got it from a contract, thought you might like it.”

Jaskier threw his arms around Geralt’s neck. He grunted and stumbled back at the unexpected weight of the bard but tentatively hugged him back. Jaskier smelled like honey blossom and chamomile. He hadn’t noticed that before. It was nice, subtle, not too harsh on his enhanced senses.

“Thank you, Geralt!” He cooed happily. “I love it! Oh gods it’s beautiful. Where the blazes would a witcher get such a sexy instrument?”

Geralt grunted. “Elves.”

Jaskier gaped and cradled the lute in his hands. “Elves?” He asked wide-eyed and then mumbled something in Elder speech under his breath as he stroked the wood of the lute.

“Didn’t know where to sell it.” Geralt muttered. “Thought you’d show up eventually.”

“Sell it!?” Jaskier shrieked. “Oh darling no, don’t listen to the big bad witcher. No, Geralt. Absolutely not!”

Geralt shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s yours. You have a horse?”

Jaskier nodded to a white gelding. “Pegasus. He’s a bit of an asshole but I love him.”

“Hmm.” Geralt assessed the horse. He was overweight and would struggle to keep up with Roach but it was better than Jaskier trailing behind on foot. “Saddle up. Let’s ride.”

Taglist: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @genkitaco @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Dawn (2)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: sleep is nice. Water is super nice. music is dope nice. weather is siren-like nice. not being able to meet my dogs? not nice.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Is it really necessary to do this? All of this?"

"It's a custom created by the Allfather, your grace," answers the handmaiden that helps you into the soft gold of a dress that seems to be way too over the top for something as simple as breakfast.

"Your Allfather needs to get laid," you whisper loud enough for her to hear and turn red.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?"

You whine as you watch yourself in the gigantic mirror in the bathroom. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

She picks up your clothes from last night and the bags that have your belongings from the earth. "Where are you going with those?"

She turns around and bows a little. "To clean them all up, your grace. The Prince said that they might have been sullied with the party they arrived."

"Loki?"

"No, your grace. Prince Thor."

"...okay? Anyway, where do you guys have lunch?"

"In the kitchen, your grace."

"Cool. I'll join you guys there."

"B-but your grace!"

"You don't have to end every sentence with your grace, Sybll. Okay?"

"...y-yes, your-"

"What?"

"...yes."

"Okay. See you later, Sybll."

You shut the door behind you, leaving the poor young handmaiden's heart pumping as she tries to make sense of what has happened.

"See you...your grace," she whispers in the empty room.

.

"Oh, no, thank you, dear," you blurt, bringing your hand up to avoid the servant from serving an entire lobster- at least that's what it looks like- to you, "no...no meat for me, please."

Odin seems to be taken aback a little by that request. And a smile is the only thing you can conjure up.

Where. The fuck. Is everyone else?

The large table feels a tad much for the two of you. Not mention the nausea you are feeling from overthinking about Odin's internal judgements about you.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" Odin finally asks, the half-eaten berry resting in between his fingers and thumb.

"Yes, sir, I mean, your majesty," you stutter, feeling yourself punching in the gut for screwing the first words coming out of you in front of him.

"Do you not like to eat meat, then?"

No father-in-law, it's just that all meat comes out as vomit when I am nervous.

"I...have a sensitive stomach."

"Huh," is all he bothers to state before going back to his berry.

So all you have on your plate now is leaves and fruits sitting as the subject for an art session. 

"The gardens of the palace are beautiful, s-your majesty," you mention, remembering the flowers in full bloom you saw this morning.

"Ah, yes," he exclaims with a delight, "Frigga used to take great care of them. It is all of her hard work that blooms in those soils. Like it does in my sons."

You nod, taking a piece of watermelon and filling your mouth with it. "Mmhmm."

"You must think of me as some foolish old bastard for my way of doing things, like...like joining two worlds in a peace treaty through marriage, don't you, young lady?"

All you can do is gulp down the melon sitting unchewed in your mouth as you look at him with a blank expression.

"For an inexperienced mind like yours does not understand how crucial it is to stand united in the face of adversity."

You nod with your mouth full. "You're right. I don't. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Frigga like?"

The lines on Odin's forehead change and he is back in time to some fond memory while he moves his food around his fingers. "Frigga was gentle as the first cool breeze that soothes you at the crack of the dawn, my dear. She was my rock. She kept Asgard running even when I was not there. That too while she had two young notorious sons to take care of." He chuckles silently and looks into some distant void, letting the sun reflect on the moisture at the edge of his eye. "She loved Loki like her own son. When the world saw a monster in him, she saw an innocent soul that needed the love and care of a mother. She taught him all the magic she knew. She had a way with him, with his mind that was always in a different direction than the rest of us. Whether she knew him or not, she did her best to make him a better version of himself."

"Would she have agreed to this truce?"

The words are out sooner than you realise and Odin is out of the trance he was a while back, the eye losing its hues.

"My sons will do what I say, woman. They are the pride of Asgard. The reflection of what expanded my kingdom and its peace stands for. And Frigga would have agreed with me. With whatever decision I took."

The words crawl over your shoulders like ants. Your nails are scraping the edges of the pie crust as silence seems to erode any feelings of respect between the two of you.

"I bet he is your reflection as well, Loki-" you stress on his name with a tilt of his head- "I bet he was your reflection that day too when he was a child and you told him he was no good as a warrior and he'd rather go hide in his mother's skirt."

The clatter of fork and knives stops. So does the breath of every servant present in the vicinity, discreetly looking at their Allfather for any reaction.

"He was your reflection when the boys from the streets teased him for being so weak for a Prince. And when he could not take the insult anymore, he used his magic to teach them proper manners. Hm?"

You pick up the chalice of wine kept for you, squeezing an orange into it before taking a generous sip. "He was also your reflection the day Thor was to be crowned king-" you smacked your lips, keeping the chalice down with a thud- "and the day he let the wormhole swallow him?"

The air is heavy. Heavier than any third person can take.

"You might be sitting in a seat of privilege, woman, but do not forget you are speaking to your king." His tone is soft but the intended weight with which they flow is not.

"Yes. I do realise my place, my king. I am but a mere human tied to a son you deem unworthy of serving any purpose to you. But here's the thing, your highness-" you look Odin in the eye, your face losing every feeling- "I am not Frigga, Gods rest her soul."

The napkin resting on your lap is crumpled in your hand before being left on the plate as you get up, dragging your chair back and turning around to collide with the servant coming with a pitcher of wine.

His apologies are cut short by you, assuring him it's no big deal before turning back to the Allfather. "It was a good talk, your majesty," you state with a full-blown bow.

"Oh and one more thing! Loki does not have some different brains that you cannot figure out. He just thinks seven steps ahead of everyone else. I found out through observation. And the one time we both had to escape being killed. You should try it sometimes too."

And with that declaration, you walk out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence with an audience and a King sitting with heartburn.

.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DOOOOO!!!!!

Your steps cannot match your heart rate at this point as you try to make your way back to Loki's room. And the constant flashbacks to the conversation you just had do not help. At all. If only the ground would crack open and swallow you right now.

You really need to keep your issues with controlling fathers in check, woman!

Well, TOO LATE! you yell back at your inner voice.

The corridors are a blur. So are the voices of people asking you if you're okay.

You didn't have to defend him like that.

You try to shove your inner voice away.

What do you even know about him?

You can finally see the door to your sanctuary, and your steps get faster than they already are.

What is Odin going to do to you now?

Opening the door, you throw yourself inside before shutting it back and letting the whimpers of weakened shallow breaths become audible.

"Okay, breathe. Breathe breathe breathe-" you take in a lungful- "yes, breathe."

Five times more and your heart finally finds a rhythm for your brain to function a bit better, bringing your attention to the wetness you feel on your stomach and realise you're still in the soiled dress with a huge blotch of wine stain colouring it in an ugly tone.

Undoing the knots around you, you walk to the bathroom to change into clean clothes and realise only when you are standing naked in there that all your clothes have been taken for a wash.

Perfect.

Your palms are rubbed hard against your face with frustrated groans before you catch a glimpse of the black fabric lying on top of one of Loki’s drawers; the one he wore last night.

Oh, screw it.

The cotton shirt slides over you with ease, flowing till your thighs, though the thin fabric barely covers much. With that taken care of, you walk over to the other drawers and cabinets to find anything else you can wear for the moment.

.

“Where were you two?!”

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Thor comments with a tone of sarcasm as a fuming Sif walks over to the brothers getting down from their horses.

“We went to inspect the new territories under Vanaheim. There was a little disturbance there last night,” Loki mentions as he twists and adjusts his shoulder with a muted grunt. No one notices for there are other pressing matters at hand.

“The Allfather is fuming because of your absence at breakfast today. Especially since-” she pauses to look at Loki and point out at him in general, which reasonably confuses both the brothers- “and on top of that things went downhill from here thanks to that woman.”

Now, this leads to the brothers to furrow their brows at Sif.

“Downhill how?” Thor asks.

“Spare no details,” Loki adds.

.

“This...is...hilarious.” Loki guffaws as he ends the sentence and this time Thor is the one to roll his eyes.

“It is still hard to believe Y/N would do something like this,” the blond states.

“Oh, Thor,” Loki purrs with a jump in his step, making his brother automatically uncomfortable, “it’s not that hard to believe once you realise she has lived the better part of her life with Stark. She has learned the snark from the best.”

“How do you even know what that word means?” Thor gasps in frustration. He opens his mouth to follow it up with a contradiction before pausing to run Loki’s words in his mind, hating the smirk building over his brother’s lips as realisation dawns on him.

“I need to talk to her about this-”

“WOAH! Woah! Easy brother,” Loki exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his chest, pausing the steps just outside the younger one’s room, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“What do you mean? Of course-”

“Thor-” Loki pats his brother’s chest as a gesture of patience- “first, talk to her only if you yourself have never defied your father.”

Thor looks at Loki with judgment-filled eyes, getting his brother’s index finger to wait and listen for more. “Second, talk to her with the thought that she barely has been here for a day and she has to spend the rest of her life here. Away from everything she knows.”

This, somehow, dilutes the smoke rising from the embers inside Thor. Loki isn’t wrong after all. “And third, don’t follow me inside. I am going to take a long shower.”

“Wha-”

“What? Sybll said Y/N told her she’ll join her for lunch in the kitchen. Now off you go,” he shoos his brother away with his hands before shutting his bedroom door behind him.

A chuckle leaves him involuntarily as he recalls Sif’s word by word description of how it all went down in the dining hall.

Good for her , he wonders, taking his armour off, there will be something to keep Odin and Thor occupied.

The arm plate stops short from landing on the table with a thud as a thought stirs in Loki’s mind, slowly invading his heart through the tiniest of veins. Letting the arm plate softly rest on the table, he lets his fingers grab the back of his doublet to remove it.

Why did she defend me in front of Odin?

The summer breeze from outside takes the first chance it gets to rub itself all over the naked chest and back of the God lost in a puzzle which isn’t that hard to solve once he has all the pieces.

Right. Forgot she had a mad father too. What was it that Stark said we were? Two kids with daddy issues.

Shaking his head, his fingers undo the first button on his pants when he hears a soft clunk from somewhere within the room. And the relaxed cat becomes the predator within a flash.

.

Why does he have so many greens and blacks?

The drawers and closets in front of all have nothing but those hues. Wait, is he colourblind?

Grunting and stomping your feet for not finding anything you could borrow from your ‘husband’s’ clothing, you close all that is opened and start to move towards the bedroom to call for Sybll for a change of clothes when faint voices are heard outside followed by a door being shut.

It takes a lot for your heart to jump in your mouth; and right now, that lot is Loki walking in the room with a smile, undoing his armour while looking at some invisible void in the distance.

Fuck!

You could not go out in front of him like this. In his nightshirt that was barely covering your assets.

Hiding behind the archway next to an Oakwood drawer, you take a peek at the God lost in some thought. There is a faint smile on his unexpectedly pink lips. What is he thinking? That thought runs away and hides in a corner as soon as it sees long pale fingers are pulling away the doublet from above his head to reveal a bod sculpted in some mountains of divine beauty not meant for the naked eye.

Your breath gets caught in the moment of revelation. Wasn't he supposed to be...frail? At least that's what you thought when you first saw him. But now that you think about it, anyone and everyone looks frail in front of Thor. But never in your life would you have thought that all that layer of clothing hid a figure like this.

You won a lottery, woman , your inner voice nudges and winks at you before it is pushed into a dark corner. Though I feel bad for him for getting stuck with you , it shouts as it fades into the darkness. The muscles on his back shift when he rolls his shoulders and you feel your insides shudder. Does Asgard realise what they're missing under all that leather? Is what you question till you see marks and bruises that seem old- healed but not so thoroughly. Hmm, everything with him has a reason, doesn't it?

Your daylight musing seems to crack as you realise- with his back to you- he is about to open his pants.

No matter how enticing it seems to the dark corners of your brain, you draw yourself back from the archway, colliding straight into a drawer. You IDIOT!!

Moving on your toes, silent as a cat, your steps go backwards, past the drawers and lux bathtubs towards the balcony while your eyes stay on the archway, waiting for your heart to stop any moment that Loki showed his face through it.

One step back and you are in the balcony, your feet feeling the cold stone under them while your back collides into something equally cold and rigid. And it does not raise all those tiny hairs on your body till you can feel that cold rise and fall rise in your back.

MOTHERF-

The siren voice of the night sings right into your ear.

"Looking for someone?"

[spaceorphan18]

What do you think about Kurt and Blaine’s chemistry in season 5? for some reason I’ve always felt like it was really off in the New York arc. I’m not sure whether it was the fact that the writers were only giving Klaine tension instead of happy moments or whether it was due to Darren/Chris, or if I’m just imagining it. Kurt just definitely seemed so cold during that period of time.

You know, I kinda figured I’d get this question eventually, lol.  

So - let’s talk about the New York Arc and Advanced Television Production.  

This question has /layers/ lol. 

For a simple answer, so you can check out if you’d like, I think their chemistry was fine, I think production was super rushed and flimsy at points, and I don’t really think Chris or Darren had anything to do what you might feel is /off/ but since actors are the face of the show, they get the brunt of the feedback.  

For a longer answer (and I mean long) follow under the cut! 

So, among being an avid fan of film production where I’ve picked up a lot of the industry knowledge (to which I’m not very -- just a fan) I’ve been listening a lot to The Office Ladies podcast, and they’ve been bringing some stuff up that I think is important to remember about film and tv production.  There are a lot of parts that go into it.  There’s the writer’s intentions, the director’s vision, the editor’s cut, the producer’s needs, and the actor’s performances.  And between those things - the show becomes what it is.  

1. The writing - The writing of Klaine in the New York Arc makes more sense when you look at the thing as a whole within context.  Kurt and Blaine were headed down a path towards a break up.  Kurt felt like he was losing his individuality and wasn’t communicating that well to Blaine, there were also some unresolved issues due to the previous break up, and the fact that Kurt was so stubborn on his stance about marriage.  Meanwhile, Blaine was so insecure, he depended on his relationship to mend those feelings, and tried to preserve that perfect feeling instead admitting that he needed help and the relationship wasn’t perfect.  

I’m oversimplifying, there are a lot more complex parts going on but neither of them were truly happy despite them feeling grown up adults in the city of their dreams.   The point being that they needed some time apart to grow up and mature a little to understand what being in an adult relationship means (explored more in season 6 after the break up).  

One of the problems, in general, with the writing is that it was so focused on the more dramatic moments of the Klaine story, we didn’t get to see much happy down time or times when they did work better.  This is a fault of Glee in general being a story about big moments and broad brushstrokes rather than zeroing in on the nuances of a complex relationship.  

2. The direction - believe it or not, the actors are kind of vessels for what production needs them to be.  Chris and Darren are both professionals (I’ll get to them in a minute) and if the director wanted more angst he’d give them another take.  Ultimately - the director makes the call whether or not he’s happy with how the scene is playing out.  If the directors weren’t happy with Chris or Darren’s performance, they would have done it over again.  

3. Editing - so, I’ve studied Glee long enough as an artform to now have paid attention to things like editing.  And let me say this -- I have long had issues with the way this show is edited.  I’ll have to do a separate post on it if you really want it, but let’s say -- how you put together a TV show from various takes makes a huge difference.  And by season five, the editing was choppy and often misleading.  Part of it is because the scripts weren’t great.  Part of it is because at this point I think they were under pressure to get things done in a short amount of time.  And part of it is, I believe, by season 5, most of production didn’t have their hearts invested as much as they used to.  

This goes and in hand with... 

4. General production -- I do think this context is important.  A beloved member of their family - Cory Monteith - had just passed away.  That is /hard/.  It’s hard to work around, it’s hard to write around, it’s hard to produce a show when someone you care for just isn’t there anymore.  On top of that - Glee was not as popular as it once was.  They were probably getting pressure from the network to do the show with less money, which meant less time to do all the normal production stuff -- and because glee had to incorporate things like musical performances, they were always pressed for time, which can cause sloppy production values.  

5. Notes from the Network - there are always some -- I have no idea what they were, and what the network insisted they had to change, but the network always hand some kind of hand in shaping the show for better or worse. 

6. Chris and Darren -- okay, let’s talk about this, even though I’m a little over this one, cause I’m tired of the two of them getting blamed for things - especially in season 5. 

First of all, I don’t know either of them personally.  And I think it’s unfair to speak for them.  Unless they come out and say specifically how they felt about that time period, I would say take this analysis with a grain of salt.  

No. I don’t think Chris was checked out.  I’ve often said that Chris’s time on Glee is a lot like going to college.  Sometimes it can be the best times! Sometimes it can be the worst.  I know when I finished, I just wanted it to be done and over so I could move on with my life.  I do think Chris was tired of certain aspects of the show -- I think he was tired of having to grow up on camera and in the media.  I think he was tired of people constantly thinking he was dating his costar when he (clearly) was not.  And both he and Darren were vocal about not really wanting Kurt and Blaine to get married (or being boring in the background of scenes). 

Do I think he hated his job? No.  Do I think he hated Klaine? No(ish).  I think he wished Kurt had his own story line, and I do think both he and Darren actually enjoyed the heavier emotional stuff they were getting by the time season 5 came around.  I also think that Chris does not want to be known as Kurt nor as one half of a popular TV couple because it impedes on his individuality.  And I also think Chris was ready to move onto other things in his life.  

Do I think that bleed into the show? No, I really do not.  I think Chris knew how the season was going to play out - and played it accordingly.  

(As an aside - I want to point out that Kurt during the NYC Arc is generally unhappy with more than just Blaine.  And in fact, I’d argue, he’s more irritated with Rachel at any given point than he is with Blaine.  Go watch Old Dogs New Tricks again -- he could have stuck it to Darren/Blaine, he did not.  He stuck it to Lea.  But that’s a completely different topic for later.)  

Meanwhile, Darren! So, I’m going to preface this by saying -- I love Darren, I really do, and under good circumstances, he can be a great actor.  And he has some just stellar moments in the NYC Arc.  He also has some not so great ones, too - and out of the two of them Darren wavers in acting quality during this time period.  I promise, it’s not a slam on Darren (I do love him!) but there’s some over-acting (and a little underacting) that’s going on, which doesn’t help much. 

Also, I want to point out, that a lot of issues Chris was vocal about concerning Klaine, Darren had as well, he was just better about being diplomatic to the fans about it.  He also wasn’t (as) bothered as Chris was about the whole tinhat thing (unless it involved verbally assaulting Mia, which then he put his foot down - yes that happened.) 

So.... let’s talk a little about the episodes in NYC Arc and hit up some of the problem points, shall we? 

New New York 

The biggest issue people always seem to have with this one is the performance of You Make Me Feel So Young - which is off putting out of context.  They’re supposed to be happily living together, right?? What’s going on?? Well, we’re a good nine months after Blaine moved in, it’s the morning after the bedbug scare where they were up half the night, and Kurt is a person who just needs his space and they’re living in a place that doesn’t have any walls. On top of that - Blaine is pushing a little hard on his fantasy of wanting to be an old married couple already. I’m not surprised Kurt isn’t all roses and daisies about it.  

Am I sad we didn’t get to see the first few months of sunshine and rainbows? Yes absolutely! They definitely allude to the fact that they’re having a lot of sex -- and I’m sure there were a ton of sexy times in the beginning. But living in one room with five-ish other people is not fun, especially for someone who needs alone time and space to recharge.  Or someone who just wants to have sexy times with his fiance and can’t because roommates.  

No, You Make Me Feel So Young isn’t the most feels-y, but I’ll also argue that Kurt isn’t the most checked out either.  There are moments in there where Kurt is genuinely happy and having fun messing around with Blaine.  And the point of the song is that they are young and shouldn’t be singing that dumb-ass song about being old marrieds anyway.  

The other thing is the whole Blaine moving out stuff.  Which... is entirely because it propels the plot of everything else going on, not because logic.  I do not really believe any young, engaged couple wouldn’t kick their friends out to their other friends house if that was an option so they could be together. But the show needed Kurt and Rachel to remain living together so Kurt could continue to be Rachel’s emotional prop.  Whatever. And they wanted to set up the ending where Blaine moved back in again as a full circle moment (even though they end up breaking up again, lol I’ll get to it.) 

So writing nonsense aside, I think they handled the important scene at the end of the episode really, really well.  It’s one of my favorite Klaine scenes because it’s a time when Kurt actually expresses what’s in his heart - that he’s conflicted because he’s figuring out that love is not all you need to make a relationship work and he doesn’t know how to navigate that -- or if ultimately, the relationship is what he wants.  But, it is, and his saying that his relationship with Blaine is one of the most precious things in his life is one of the strongest affirmations about anything that Kurt ever gives.  Happy or not happy in that moment, Kurt values his relationship with Blaine above everything - and will protect what he thinks the relationship means at all costs -- even if it means breaking his own heart in the process.  

Bash

This episode is a mess, and the weakest written episode of the arc.  It’s essentially two very different plot lines unevenly stapled together.  Kurt being bashed doesn’t get enough screen time, and it ends up being a morality tale for Rachel rather than delving into the impact it has on the actual gay members of the group.  Blaine’s POV is very limited, which is a shame because there’s an entire story there they really should have told.  

I’m using the still above to show that, yes, as awkward as the set up the scene above is - Kurt’s happy to see Blaine when he enters.  

Why is Kurt so cold during the scene where they lay flowers at the dude’s attack scene?  I don’t think he is? I think he’s recovering from getting the shit beaten out of him, and I’m under the impression that they guy actually died in the initial shooting of the scene and they changed it in post to have him live.  On top of that - Blaine’s feeling clingy because he almost lost the person whom his entire self worth is relying on at the moment.  

Tested

Tested is super, super complicated, and I’m just not going to rehash it here... again.  Please read my meta on this one - I do go incredibly in depth on it.  

I will say this -- Tested is an episode that is densely packed, and relies on subtext to tell a lot of its story.  While I love this episode, the episode needed to be 100% focused on Klaine to really do the stories they were telling justice, and a lot of it is up to interpretation.  

The biggest push back I always get on this one is the ending, and Kurt seeming ‘cold’ here.  And I’ll say this -- You can love a person deeply, and still be as affirming as you can, and still be upset about how they were treating you.  You can be sympathetic to their plights and frustrated that these conversations keep having to be had.  Blaine’s insecurities are feeling heavy to Kurt -- that is a part of being in a relationship, that is a part of being in an adult relationship.  Your prince and knight in shining armor is going to eventually be a human being with problems that you can’t always solve.  And sometimes that is tiring - no matter how much you love a person.  

Opening Night

There is zero Klaine in this episode - because it’s Rachel’s episode, and Kurt was needed as the gay best friend emotional prop.  Do I think there was an missed opportunity to show Kurt and Blaine happily dancing together at the club? I do! But I don’t think it has anything to do with any interpretation of their characters.  I think they told the actors to go have fun - and they did. 

The Back Up Plan

I don’t necessarily have any major faults with this episode, nor have I heard much push back against it?  Out of all of the episodes - this is the one where I do have some minor quibbles with acting, some of it being from Darren not clicking Blaine on for ten seconds or so at the beginning, and some of it from Chris being over-the-top in a few places, but nothing that fully takes me out of it.  Neither of them are being different in scenes with each other than they are in scenes with other people.  And there are some really solid Klaine moments in the episode itself.   

Old Dogs, New Tricks

AKA The one that Chris wrote.  Here’s my thing...  there isn’t very much Blaine in this episode (wisely so).  I think a) Chris wanted to write Kurt a story line that didn’t involve Blaine so Kurt could have a story line that didn’t have Blaine -- and that’s fine and valid and b) I don’t think he wanted the pressure of writing for Blaine, so wisely didn’t have him in it much. 

He wrote a very sweet Klaine moment that incorporated the overall story.  I have no complaints.  And I’ll add -- Chris (purposely so I assume) directed all the passive-aggressive writer-y things towards Rachel.  I do believe if he ultimately was having issues with Darren (or Blaine) he would have had zero compulsion about bringing that into the script. 

The Untitled Rachel Berry Project

Do people have issues with this one? -- I really only have one, and that’s the end of the scene referenced above with the still.  And it’s a good example of how I think production effects story.  This is a beautiful scene, until the last few beats.  We have this big emotional moment for Klaine -- and then it’s capped with a really dumb joke about Blaine being the luckiest guy in the world and a throwaway, badly edited kiss (scored to some upbeat, tacky scoring).  If it were me - I’d let the emotion of the scene continue, let the boys stay on the steps, let them kiss in an emotionally driven moment, and then they can go run up stairs to have sex and not make a joke about being turned on by birds.  The last ‘joke’ can be left on the cutting room floor because it’s really not needed.  But Glee being a ‘comedy’ felt the need to cap the moment before the break with a joke because it’s Glee.  

See what I mean? That’s not Chris or Darren’s fault.  That’s one part writing, one part directing/editing, and one part my opinion of it not working.  

Otherwise, I really don’t have issues with this particular episode. 

I’ll say this though -- a) Kurt is incredibly happy to have Blaine move back in and that means something.  b) the reason this is left on such an upbeat note, and not necessarily foreboding of what’s coming next season is that there was a real chance they weren’t getting a next season -- and they wanted to make sure the characters ended in happy places in case this was the series finale.  c) we were shortchanged two episodes from this season -- who knows what more they could have developed if the had had more time. 

*****

I don’t know if any of this helps (or if any of my additional meta helps) but I suppose I’ll say this -- I’ve meta’d these episodes so much that I see the cracks in the production, but I don’t really take issue with them anymore.  I like the story being told, and all things considered, I don’t think it’s all that bad.  

I think one thing to keep in mind is how Glee tells stories in general.  Are the couples happy? Well, then they’re in the background not doing anything.  Are they having conflict? Yes - well that’s front and center.  Also, keep in mind that Glee prefers telling stories about couples getting together more than them being together (or breaking up).  We start season 6 after the break up, and even season 4′s break up happens at the beginning of the season - why? Cause Glee loves writing angst-y couples who eventually get together in a big moment.  

And I’ll add to that -- did you notice that Sam and Mercedes go through a similar arc as Klaine during the NYC arc? No really - do you know why Mercedes breaks it off with Sam? Because their lives are just in different places and she wants to preserve her good feelings for Sam -- and that’s very similar to Kurt’s reasons at the beginning of season 6.  

No - this season isn’t happy, flirtiness of Kurt in season 2 (and I’ll argue that was Kurt’s story - not Blaine’s, and it’s also somewhat flimsy in structure when considering the love story aspect of it).  It’s not the background moments of season 3 - because they’re together, and there’s not a classroom to be backgrounds of.  (Could they have done a little more in the group scenes? Sure - but it’s not that bad.)  It’s not the angst fest of seasons 4 and 6.  And not helping is the fact that the first half of season 5 really had very little Klaine development at all.  

so, back to the beginning, I feel like the story they wanted to tell was about Klaine having conflict and resolving said conflict, and getting them to grow into an adult relationship.  Do I wish there were more happier times to balance that out? Of course I do! Do I feel like there’s a lack of chemistry or that Chris and/or Darren are to blame? Absolutely not.  Hope this helps a little Nonny - and feel free to ask me about specific moments if you need to <3 

[writting-thingz]

Paring: Kageyama x FemReader

Summary: New home, new school, new anxieties to worry about. You knew better than to make friends but something about Kageyama just calmed you. It was like you could really be yourself around him. Maybe you do deserve friends, maybe mother is wrong. Or mother is just looking out for you and maybe… you really are nothing but trouble.

Warnings: it’s implied that the reader has heterochromia, verbal abuse, yelling, threats against the reader, threat against reader’s dog (dog does -not- get hurt), manipulation, things being thrown, angst, sad

--Please read at your own risk--

Hireath

’At least it’s all about you-ou-ou-ou-oooo~; I think the blondes are done with fun; At least it’s all about you-ou-ou-ou-oooo~; I think the Blondes are done we’re all to cool for fun’

 A new school, new home, and to top it off they school year had already started without you. After a deep breath in and out you got up and ready for the first day at Karasuno High. You originally planned to walk since the school wasn’t too far, however, your mother had different plans.

��Why do you need to drive me again? I can walk just fine by myself.” You insisted as she practically dragged you to the car.

“It’s your first-day sweetie, I figured at least for the first day I could give you a ride. Plus they’re already in about two weeks.” She spoke gently and smiled. You dared to roll your eyes as you sighed,

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” That pleasant smile on your mother’s face quickly soured. The two of you were finally on your way to the school.

“Don’t sass me. You didn’t listen and we told you what the consequences were. Blame yourself not us. I’m trying to be nice today, so for once be a good kid.” The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

’No plastic or paper can take her or make her; Shake from the fact she’s my world devastator’

      The principal and a student stood out front waiting for you and your mother. She looked over you once more to make sure you were presentable.

“Where is your contact?” She gritted through a shining grin as the two of you walked towards the principal.

“I guess I forgot to put it in this morning.” You lied.

“Y/n we talked about this. Perfection is key in this family and that eye of yours makes you a freak.” That stupid grin stayed plastered on her face. She dug her nails into your shoulders in a way that to others it looked like she was just holding her arm around your shoulders. “Chin up and smile sweetie.” Poison dripped from her words and it sent chills down your spin. You quickly straighten yourself up and moved you bang in front of your ‘freak eye’.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Mrs. Y/Ln.” The principal greeted.

“Thank you, it is wonderful to see you again.” She softened her grip on your shoulder. You waved to the principal with a smile.

“Well, if you have the time there is a few things I need to speak with you about. However, Miss Y/n you can go with this her on a tour of the school, and once your done follow your class schedule.” He gestured to the young lady next to him whi just like you had blonde hair. You looked to your mother as if to ask permission to go and she nodded. With that, you and the nervous, fellow blonde-haired girl left.

      The silence between you is deafening but you were trying to focus on setting up your happy bubbly mask. Other than tour related things the walk was pretty quiet. It wasn’t until the lunch bell rang she finally talked to you.

“So what’s your name?” She spoke and moved so awkwardly but it was cute.

“Y/n, it’s really nice to meet you!” You smiled and threw in a giggle to top it off. The bright energy appeared to startle the girl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“No no, don’t worry about it. Honestly, I should be used to it by now.” She waved her arms dismissively. An orange-haired boy came bounding up behind the nervous blonde girl.

“Yachi!!” He practically shouted which caused the poor girl to jump. Something like the squeak of a mouse is what came out of her mouth before words fumbled their way out.

“Hi-Hinata! You, you c-can’t come up behind me like that.” It seemed like she was trying to scold but her face was just so innocent and cute it was hard to take her seriously. The bright bouncing boy proceeded to apologize profusely with over-exaggerated bows.

“Oi! You left me behind you idiot!” a new voice came from around the corner. A tall dark-haired young man who was clearly irritated sipped on a milk carton. Shortly after smacking his friend’s head his eyes land on you. They appear to soften yet stayed intense, like a dull blade gently poking at you.

“Kageyama, you’re so mean! If you weren’t so slow maybe I wouldn’t leave you behind!” the Tangerine boy barked which quickly pulled the tall boy’s attention from you.

“Yeah right, idiot! You’re the slow one! Leaving the room without saying where you were going doesn’t count!”

“Oh yeah!? Well if you weren’t so preoccupied with having to get your precious milk maybe you would have been able to follow me!”

“At least I drink milk! You look like you haven’t had a single drop in your life, shorty!”

“Milkhead!”

      For a moment the tenseness in your body left as you watched the two boys bicker. The blonde girl who was previously called ‘Yachi’ tried to ease the situation but it was like she was a ghost. It was the last insult that made you break into giggles. Immediately the boys stopped and stared.

“Oh please, continue. Don’t mind me. I just thought it was cute watching you two bicker.” you waved your hand dismissively and grinned.

“Oh, right. You guys this is the new student I had to show around. This is why I said I couldn’t help you two with homework today.” The blonde girl recalled. You stuck out for either of the boys to shake,

“Sallluuutations~ Y/n, Pleasure to meet you.”

“Shoyo Hinata!” The tangerine boy quickly and violently shook your hand.

“You sure do have a lot of energy, it goes with the brightness of your hair.” You quipped. Unfortunately, when you turned your attention to the tall boy,  he didn’t shake your hand. Although the lights were on and his gaze was on you, it seemed nobody was home.

“Kageyama? Kageyamaaa~” Hinata attempted a knock at the door but no one answered, so Hinata rang the doorbell through hurdling his elbow into the tall boy’s arm. “Kageyama! It’s rude to just stare, say something!” he chided. It was cute to see Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious realize he was staring into your eyes. Without moving his attention from you he palmed his tangerine friend in the face with one hand and firmly gipped your hand while gently shaking it.

“Kageyama.” Short, sweet, simple. You giggled over his actions and gave him a genuine smile. A shimmering wave of light glazed over those intense oceans for eyes. Slowly your hands slipped away from each other and fell to their respective sides.

“I’m sure it’s going to be fun seeing you two in the halls.” You told the boys as the bell for lunch to end rang.

“Bye Yachi! Bye Y/n! See you tomorrow.” Hinata shouted while bounding away.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow… Y/n.” Kageyama hesitated like he wasn’t sure he really was going to see you again, or perhaps it was that he didn’t want to leave. Either way, it didn’t take long for his tangerine friend to get on his nerves again.

‘You…; I think the blondes are done; We’re all too cool for fun’

      It was exhausting being so bubbly especially since it had been months since you put on this disposition mask.

'A nap would be nice right now’ you thought to yourself as you waited outside the boy’s gym. Yachi had accidentally left behind her notes and you remember how she talked about being the manager of the boy’s volleyball club. When you arrived it didn’t seem like anyone was in the gym so you assumed you had just arrived there before her somehow. The weight on your eyelids had grown heavier throughout the day, 'I’m sure a second won’t hurt..’ it didn’t take long for you to pass out on those steps.

’I go blue when I’ve had; A break at home to breathe’

      Dreams of old friends were interrupted with gentle whispers and the feeling of being stared at.

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know what to do!”

“Well, we can’t just leave her here.”

“Kageyama what are you doing!?” the whisper yells came to a stop as your eyes fluttered open. Kneeling before you with a blank face, Kageyama gave a small wave.

“Hmm… Kageyama? Hinata? wh-where’s Yachi?” you rubbed your eye as you mumbled. Kageyama lent his hand to you and helped you to your feet.

“Yachi? what Do you mean?” Hinata scratched his head with an eyebrow lifted.

“She said she was the manager of the boys’ volleyball team and she left behind some notes in the class we shared… So I thought I’d catch her here at their practice, but when I walked in I didn’t see anyone,” you explained. Hinata furrowed his brows in confusion,

“You must have walked in while we were in the closet because we’ve been here the whole time. Right, Kageyama?” his tall friend nodded in agreement, “Also.. we didn’t have practice today. Kageyama and I came here to practice on our day off.”

“Here, that way you can know are volleyball schedule and not pass out on the steps again.” Kageyama handed you a piece of paper that neither you nor Hinata knew where it came from.

“Thank you, Kageyama. That’s very sw-” a glimpse of the setting sun glinted off a window of the gym. Fear quickly set in,

“How long have I been here?”

“Well if you’ve been there as long as we have been practicing I’d say a pretty long while.” Hinata chuckled. Knots tied themselves in your stomach. Your heart dropped when you realized that the eye that caught the glint should have been covered. You dropped your head and scrambled up your stuff.

“Ah, heh… Ah.. thank you for waking me. I-I have to go."

      Before either boy had a chance to stop you, you hurry away. The same thought rattles around your brain repeatedly, getting louder each time.

'oh no, Oh no, Oh No, OH No, OH NO’ the stomach knots had knots and they flipped and turned. Your heartfelt like it was going to burst out of your chest. 'Faster, faster, I have to get home faster’ you chanted in your head wishing you could go fast enough you run back in time.

      All those hurry'n'go feelings rushed out of your body the moment you made it to your front door. After a few deep breaths, you walked in as casually as you could.

"Ah. Y/n, sweetie, you’re home.” Your mother’s voice was strangely gentle and calm. “Did you enjoy your first day of school?” She asks, smiling ever so sweetly. A bead of sweat rolls down your forehead as you thought,

'Something’s not right… She’s so calm and I came home late.’

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Gain a few friends?”

“Yes, ma'am” she rose from her seat after you answered. It was terrifying how sweet she was being but perhaps you were overthinking it.

“Good. How about your after school piano lesson? How did that go?” You knew you forgot something you were supposed to do. You cracked a smile and lied,

“Good, I was able to show him what I already knew how to do and we discussed possible concert pieces.” That sickenly sweet smile stretched and curled wickedly,

“Oh Y/n you never cease to amaze me.” Your mind ran rampant

'But I never make her happy, WAIT-’ but it was too late. A firm hand swiftly backhanded you, the force of it nearly knocking you over.

“Did you really think you could lie to me!? Your female piano coach called me and said you had missed practice today!!” She hissed. You kept head down and your hands at your sides. You knew better than to try and hold where it hurt. She slammed her hands on the table while she spoke, “Did you spend it with those new friends you made? Huh!?” She quickly made her way to you and gripped your face with one hand, forcing you to meet her fiery gaze. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU BRAT! Did you or did you not spend your practice time with those new friends of yours?” Her roaring words were like nails on a chalkboard. You cursed your body for shaking.

“N-no, ma'am. I wanted to return these notes to the girl who showed me around today. She the, she’s the volleyball manager the boys a-and so I went to the gym. But when I went to the gym no one was there, I thought I just got there before her and so, and so, and so I sat outside the gym to wait for her. I accidentally dozed off, I didn’t even realize I had. I swear ma'am, I swear that’s what I did.” You fumbled out a trainwreck of a confession. She let go of your face and turned around without a single sound uttered.

      A minute of unbearable silence passed between you two. You knew better but still, you dared to call her, “ma'am?”. She spins around with fury in her eye,

“That had better be the truth. You remember why we moved right? Right? Because you thought friends were more important than your education, piano practices, and Concerts. Don’t let that happen again. We’ve done it twice already and we’ll do it again. Understood?” You nod your head quickly. Your mother sighs, “go let your mut in and go to bed. No dinner for you tonight. Get out of my sight you mistake and miserable excuse for a human being"  She waved her hand dismissively and you felt like you couldn’t have left quicker. Once you made it to your room with your dog, you broke. Tears poured furiously from your eyes. Your dog nuzzled his way under your arms to comfort you. A few hours of crying later and you finally had enough energy to move again. After giving your dog some reassuring pats you picked up Yachi’s notes. As you moved them to your desk a familiar piece of paper fell from notes. It was the paper Kageyama had given you. To your surprise and amusement, instead of a volleyball practice schedule, it was a phone number.

'Smooth, Kageyama, Smooth.’ You thought to yourself with your mouth curling up half a smile. You folded the paper back up and shoved it into your jacket pocket.

      Normally you would have played on the keyboard to help calm you but you didn’t want to test your mother. So, you slipped off your shoes and socks before you grabbed your headphones. You opened your window and crawled onto the roof above it. The stars above clearly much happier than you twinkled brightly. The cool and fresh night air filled your lungs. There was just something different about the air at night. It made you want to breathe. You tiptoe away from the edge of the house so as not to tempt yourself and laid down on the rooftop. You took your phone and Kageyama’s number out.

[What a clever way to give a girl your number.] That half-smile reappeared on your face.

[Who is this?]

[Y/n silly. What do you give your number to strangers all day?]

[No]

[Didn’t think so.] Minutes passed as you stared at the stars above. [You don’t text much do you]

[It’s distracting when I have homework]

[Hmm, then how about this?] You called the number. The call must have surprised him because he almost missed the chance to answer.

"Why did you call?” The confusion in his voice was adorable. That half-smile stretching into a full one.

“Well this way you can respond faster and you don’t have to stop to type your answer out.” Your words were softly spoken to hide the croakiness.

“…fine.” Kageyama paused, “S-so.. are you in like the smart classes, like Yachi?”

And that’s how your friendship with Kageyama started.

      Most of your nights the past three weeks had been staring at the stars and talking to Kageyama on the phone. During lunches, you would hang out with Yachi, Hinata, and Kageyama and help tutor them. Eventually, you managed to convince your mom to let you “study” with Yachi when finished with the piano practice since the boys would, without fail, still be practicing. Today you woke up on the roof next to your phone still on the call with Kageyama. An ache ran over your back as you sat up. The sun, just barely poking its head above the horizon line, painted the sky with purple, pink, and scarlet clouds. It took your breath away. You took a picture but the phone could never do justice to what you saw in person. The sudden urge to play the piano took over like strings on a puppet and guided you back into the house. Even though you had a keyboard in your room and the grand piano in the living room the imaginary strings around your wrists pulled you to the school. With uniform on, and food in your system you were ready to go. Your back still hated you but it was worth the amazing sleep you had gotten. By the time those strings were pulling you out the door, half the sky had been overtaken by a soft field of clouds.

'Too bad it looked like it was going to be sunny all day.’ you shrugged it off.

      To your surprise, Kageyama and Hinata were arriving at the same time you were.

“Y/n!!!” The bright hair boy shouted upon seeing you. You smiled and skipped over to them.

“Good Morning boys~” your voice rose and dipped like a melody at the tip of your tongue.

“Y/n, what are you doing here early? Do you have piano practice in the mornings now?” Kageyama raised an eyebrow in confusion. The three of you continued to walk with you following them. You shook your head and giggled,

“I should be asking you the same thing, Kageyama. You two are here awfully early.”

He looked at you as if you were stupid.

“Kageyama and I like to practice in the morning. Tanaka usually unlocks the gym for us but it looks like he’s late today.” Hinata interjected. Kageyama ignored his short friend,

“You didn’t answer my first question.”

“Nothing slips past you does it?” You jokingly elbowed him, “I don’t know, I guess I just really wanted to get some morning practice in too.” your fingers twitched, your body itching to be in front of those black and white keys that bring meaning to your existence.

“Do you mind if we join since it looks like we aren’t practicing?” his request threw you off, a fellow student wanted to hear you play? No, you couldn’t. Could you?

“Kageyama I think you broke them.” Hinata waved his hand in front of your unblinking eyes. Suddenly you jump up taking a hold of Kageyama’s hand in both of yours,

“Of course you can! Mother says the only ones who should hear me play is those who pay, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her.” you tugged him forward as you turned to walk into the school.

      You regretted moving so awkwardly as aches immediately hit your back.

“Agh… I do not suggest falling asleep on your roof.” you joke pausing for a moment to arch your back in an attempt to pop your back.

“You what!? Did you really fall asleep on your roof talking to me!?” Kageyama slipped his hand out of yours. You giggled and scratched the back of your neck,

“Maybe?” His eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over one another.

“You were on the phone all night together?” Hinata chuckled, “when did you give Kags your number?” Those piercing eyes moved their gaze to the tangerine boy. Hinata jumped back with arms up defensively.

“For your information, I gave her my number.” Red lightly adorned the tall boy’s cheeks.

A smirk tugged at your lips. You stood on the very tips of your toes and wrapped your arm around Kageyama,

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your jealous Pibsquek.” You teased, “wouldn’t you agree, Kageyama?” His lips formed a smirk as he chuckled and nodded in agreement. You enjoyed running from the raging Hinata, dragging Kageyama with you. It didn’t take long to reach the piano room since it was close to the gym. You took your seat at the piano while Kageyama kept Hinata off you. Their bickering was quickly silence by the dulcent melody of Bach floating through their ears. You hands worked the keys and moved as if they were light as feathers.

“Prelude in C… major” Kageyama muttered while listening.

“Wooow~” Hinata purred in awe. The two were enraptured by the music. “You’re amaz-"

"Shh” Kageyama lifts his finger to his lips so that the only sound was the beauty your hands were making.

      Kageyama thanked you for the song and dragged Hinata off to class. It was nice playing what you wanted for who you wanted for once. The song may have been overplayed amongst pianists but the simplicity of playing from memory filled you with joy. The energy from getting a good night’s sleep, relieving the itch to play, and getting the chance to have your friends see you play left you more bubbly than ever. Your fingers itched to play again for ears of your choice. Disobeying your mom in a subtle way that had low risk of her finding out was exciting to say the least. You happily skipped through the day. During lunch Yachi had noted how giggly and more talkative you were today. The boys agreed with her but quickly returned to their tutor work. It seemed like the day flew by.

'Is this what people mean by time flies by when you’re having fun?’ You pondered whilst making your way to the practice room.

      Through the window you could see that the clouds have overtaken the sky, however, your smile did not falter. Your piano coach requested to meet you through facetime to avoid driving through a possible storm.

'How silly, it’s not going to rain, let alone storm.’ You shook your head chuckling to yourself, 'there maybe clouds in the sky but it does not mean rain will fall from them.’ You were horribly mistaken. In the middle of the second movement of Moonlight Sonata when violent thunder erupted from outside the school. You jumped at the sound and played a note wrong but quickly went back to playing.

“Y/n. Y/N!” Your coach screamed through the phone. “I’m going to call it good. You are playing beautifully and are completely concert ready. Please go home and get some rest.” She told you once you paused your playing. You thanked her and ended the call. The second the call ended lighting struck nearby. The sudden light, uproarious sound, and shaking of the ground sent violent shivers down you spine. A loud shriek escaped your lips.

'Just play… play louder than the storm.’ You reassured yourself. Passionate and fear powered key strokes played a melody that rang out through the halls of the school. Visiously fighting back the sounds of thunder and lightning with the reverberant melody of Moonlight sonata the third movement. By the end of the song you were left huffing and puffing. Another loud and bright lightning strike hits a powerline just outside the school causing the lights to go out. Once again you shriek. Your body crumpled and crawled under the piano. Shoulder, arms, legs, you name it it’s shaking. Quiet sobs and tears escaped. Your body flinched with ever flash of light.

      It felt like hours before anyone had noticed you in that room but really only a few minutes had passed by.

“Y/n! Y/n!!” A familiar voice urged. You didn’t budge. Just as quick as You could hear things being moved around it stopped. Gentle hands wrapped a jacket around your balled up form and pulled you closer to who ever the familiar voice belonged to. The arms hesitated to pull your balled up form into an embrace. “It’s Kageyama. Don’t freak out.” The familiar voice whispered. Soon enough you felt his arms lift you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck. Another loud clash and rumble of thunder echoes through the halls. You yipped and tightened your wrap around Kageyama. With one arm underneath you for support his free hand gently stroked your hair. It was as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you.  “Daichi, can you get her bag?” Kageyama asked someone else in the room. You did not dare to open your eyes les face the lightning with your bare eyes. Soon enough the three of you were in the gym.

“Daichi, Kageyama!! Did you see the big lightning!? That was scary, the way it took out the power pole. It went BOOSH!!” This voice was pretty easy to identify, Hinata.

“Hinata you idiot! Shut up!!” Kageyama hushed while trying not to yell in your ear. Two gasps with steps coming close quickly followed.

“Is that Y/n?” A gentle female voice that you presumed was Yachi.

“Is Y/n okay!?” Hinata whined.

“She’s fine! Would you two back off, give her space jeez.” Kageyama chided the two for hovering. A few other familiar voices spoke  while Kageyama sat down. He his arms wrapped around you letting you just relax.

“It’s coming down pretty hard out there and when Kageyama and I check inside there wasn’t anybody there."

"Well we can stay here for a little bit. I’m sure it’ll clear up in a little bit.”

“Daichi you lied, There was somebody. Kageyama’s girlllfriend~.”

“We’re just friends!”

“Semantics Tsukishima. It’s not what important right now.”

“Your captain has a point. You all need to make calls to your parents and get rides home if it doesn’t lighten up within the next two hours” the other people in the room conversed. Their voices slowly faded away as you began to fall under sheep’s control. After the storm eased up you woke from your slumber. You returned Kageyama’s jacket and left once your mother arrived. You managed to send a tired thank you text before passing out on your bed.

*¾ of the school year later*

’I used to crave a getaway; Now I don’t wanna leave’

      Over the year, you and Kageyama had gotten closer but had no time to hang out outside of school due to your mother. Still you enjoyed watching the boys practice and even volunteering to help when Kageyama and Hinata would stay after. Unfortunately, the past two nights the boys had practiced pretty late into the evening. This was only because you fell asleep when everyone was there and no one bothered to wake you. By this point, it was pretty normal for you to study for half the practice and take a nap during the other half. The sound of scuffling feet on the wood and the pounding of the ball against arms and the floor would normally frighten you, reminding you of thrown items at walls. Yet here it was weirdly soothing. Both nights you had failed to study at all during the practice. Your mother of course never failed to remind you of the upcoming three back to backtests. You knew you should have stayed home those days instead of going to volleyball practice but it was so peaceful away from mother, you couldn’t help it.

     It was roughly two in the morning when you woke up. Freaking out over not studying you bolted out of bed to your desk. Much like the boys’ volleyball practice, time flew by. Before you knew it the alarm to wake you pierced your ears. You of course had to take a moment to calm yourself after the startling noise.

'Damn’ you cursed as you got ready for the day. Needless to say, the walk to school felt like walking to your personal noose.

'God… I’m so tired..’ sleep stilled hovered over you like a ghost with unfinished business. You were used to feeling tired but it had been a while since the feeling was so strong. It seems everyone else could see you struggling too.

“Good morning Y/n! Oh.. are you okay?” Yachi greeted you. Just barely managing to give her half of a smile,

“Of course! Wh-why wouldn’t I be?” You tried but even someone half-deaf could hear the tired hidden behind the bubbly front you put up.

“Probably because you fell asleep during all of practice and my guess is you woke up in the middle of the night freaked out about the tests and couldn’t go back to sleep,” Kageyama stated as he arrived with Hinata.

“How do you know about the tests?” You raised a brow.

“Yachi has been talking about them during lunch,” He explained wide awake. You, on the other hand, were fighting the urge to pass out,

“Oh.. right.”

“Here.” He handed you an orange-flavored juice box. Without a second thought, you took it. “We should get to class Hinata. Good luck.” He patted your head and left with the hyper boy.

      You sipped from the juice as you fought to keep your eyes open. You pursued your lips and scratched your head. The page looked like hieroglyphics at this point. You would have to read a question repeatedly before finally registering what it said.

'Why are there letters in math.. isn’t math hard enough already'

'Wait what is seven plus two? OH COME ON THAT’S THE BABY STUFF HOW CAN I FORGET THAT!?’

'Who writes this stuff!? What kind of grammar is that!?’

'This is so dumb.. wait… did I miss a question? Damn now my answers are all off by one!’

'That can’t be grammatically correct… can it?’

'That.. that can’t be lab safe.’

'Wait did that say what I think it said?’ Frustrated thoughts circled your brain. Even problems that you normally don’t have to put any thought into were irritating. Thus you were stuck in a loop of getting frustrated, knowing that getting frustrated won’t help, getting frustrated at getting frustrated.

      The lunch bell was like angels singing. The sweet release from daunting tests. Sleep had backed off, now hovered in the shadows. You figured it was thanks to the orange juice Kageyama gave you.

“Hey Y/n, why don’t we go outside for lunch today?” Yachi offered, you nodded and followed absent-mindedly. Soon enough Hinata joined the two of you on the way outside. Unsurprisingly Kageyama was found getting milk from the vending machine. The boys make conversation with Yachi while you occasionally nod your head like you’re paying attention. Eventually the boys sat on the ground leading to you and Yachi following suit. You practically stumble to the ground as you plan yourself behind Kageyama and lean you back against his. He turns slightly,

“Mm-mmm, don’t move.” You begged just wanting to rest. The trio continued with their conversation. When it neared time for the bell to ring the trio worried you had passed out.

“Is she asleep?” You weren’t, you just didn’t have the energy to move. You shook your head.

“Y/n?” They called. You groaned knowing you had to move soon. This must have alarmed or worried Kageyama because he turned. With the support removed and lack of energy you fell bracing for the worse. Fortunately whatever you landed on was soft and very clearly not the hard ground.

“Kageyama! Be careful!” Hinata’s and Yachi’s voices wavered. Come to find out, the landing pad was Kageyama’s legs. The bell rang out and you sat up. You stretched as you yawned.

“Thank you for letting me use you for support Kags.” Kageyama nodded. It seemed he was at a loss for words. You staggered your way to your feet and went class.

      The day crept by ever so slowly but it did eventually end. The last thing you could remember before waking up was watching the boys practice. You couldn’t remember falling asleep let alone bringing something to cover you like a blanket and yet you woke up with something over you. At first, you weren’t sure what was covering you but it was warm so you pulled it tighter around you.

“You do it, I’m not gonna do it.”

“What? why me!?”

“You’re closer to her, plus it’s your jacket on her. It’s almost like she’s your girlfriend~”

“She’s not- agh.. she’s not my girlfriend!”

“Yeah but you wish she was!”

“Dumbass… I’ll get you back for this, Hinata” you heard the boys bickered in whispers but you didn’t open your eyes. You felt arms slip under you and lift you up.

“Kageyamaaa! What are you doing!?"

"Shhh, Hinata you idiot. You’re going to wake her.”

“Isn’t that what you were supposed to be doing!?”

“I decided not to. I’ll wake her when we’re almost at her house. You should go, she isn’t far from the school but it’s the opposite way from our route.” They continue to fight in hushed voices.

    When you finally found the strength to open the cement walls that were your eyelids it was just you and Kageyama.

'Damn… I passed out again.’ was the first thought to cross your mind. Kageyama’s eyes drop down to yours,

“You’re awake.” You nodded your head. “Then we can pick up where we left off on our last call, right?” He suggested.

“I suppose so.” You mumbled.

“Why do you avoid talking about why you moved here? The subject of moving seems to disturb you in general, does it perhaps have to do with some of the things your parents have done?”

“Hm? Moving?” You hummed a little, “my parents use it as punishment when I go out ov-line, like choosing friends-over piano. Mmm-summers usually went somethin like this,” some words melded together in this tired state. “I was stuck at home for some months; I didn’t love myself; Before we sold-out shows; Before I needed help…. Kageyama?”

“Yes Y/n?”

“I don’t think I deserve to have friends… but you make me-fell good and not ver-tired all th-time. Promise I won’t loose you?"

"I promise”

“Good then never say goodbye 'cause goodbye means leaving and leaving means forgetting…” you finished that and mumbled nonsense as sleep took hold of you once more.

      Your eyes flutter open and land on the clock.

'Ten minuets till I have to get up… better than waking up late’ you figured and stretched yourself awake. Aside from being tired your morning went similar to yesterday. You met up with Yachi and Kageyama showed up with an orange juice box. The worry of having to face the scores of your tests was the debby-downer of the day. In fact you were so worried that you hadn’t caught Kageyama talking about being offered dinner last night after dropping you off. While in your first class and sipping your juice, you replayed the morning in your head. It wasn’t until you were halfway through class that it hit you,

'WAIT DINNER!? SHE ASKED HIM TO STAY FOR DINNER!?’. Your mind was racing wondering what your mother could have possibly been planning. 'What did she say to him? Oh god.. what did he say to her? He knows a lot now and he wasn’t happy to hear it. I doubt anyone would but oh god… why dinner!?’ You racked your brain for answers but there were just too many possibilities. It certainly didn’t help to find out all three tests came out as high C’s. You tried your darndest to focus in class but would inevitably end up stuck on the same thought, 'what happened last night’.

       The lunch bell was like the starting shot to a horse race. You ran from your classroom to the vending machine by the gym. As usual, Kageyama had just arrived to get his milk. Your mind was running rampant with new possibilities and scenarios it was impossible to mask how you were feeling.

’I never wanted to be thinking this loud; I never asked about the when, why or how; I wanted privacy, routine and everything between; While they’re just finding me out; I never wanted to be thinking this loud'

The moment he looked at you, you sprinted at him. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into an embrace as you two fell to the ground.

“Y- Y/N you are being so weird today!!” He groaned.

“I- I… why did she ask you two stay for dinner, Kageyama? What happened last night!?” You voice wobbled and your whole body shook. Kageyama sighed, wrapped a supporting arm around you, and sat the both of you up.

“Is that why you are acting strange?” You didn’t speak, just squeezed him once. “She invited me for dinner and a ride home. It felt rude to decline so I took up the offer. We talked about how I’m your best friend and how Yachi and Hinata are friends as well.”

“And..?”

“Upon my asking, she told me about how your family for generations the firstborn was always male and always played the piano. You really are the outcast… but that’s okay because that’s something you and Karasuno have in common. We’re the underdogs too.”

“You’re getting off track again”

“..listen all we did was talk. She got to know about me and volleyball. I got to know a little bit about your family.” You pulled away from the hug,

“She didn’t try to threaten you? Or-or tell you to stay away from me? Oh dear” you gasp, “she didn’t try to hurt you at all did she?” He gently held your face in both of his hands and stared into your eyes.

“I don’t lie, especially not to you Y/n. I find it useless. So believe me when I say nothing happened. I brought you home, set you in your bed, discussed meaningless things over dinner, and went home.” You wanted to believe that honeyed voice of his but the bad feeling in your stomach told you not to. It was clear that pressing him for answers wasn’t going to work so you gave up. You gave him a quick hug and helped each other up. The two of you joined your friends for the rest of the lunch like nothing had happened.

      The moment the last bell rang you stormed your way home. You skipped piano practice, you needed answers and Kageyama wasn’t giving them. Your mother sat at the kitchen table with some paperwork. She didn’t even bother to look at you,

“Skipping piano practice? Bold move. Although, I’m not sure I can say I’m surprised given your recent actions."  An irritated sigh slipped from her clenched jaw.

"Why did you invite him to dinner last night?” When met with silence you clenched your fist. Anger danced about your fear ridden body. As furious as you were standing up to your mother was still terrifying. “Answer me!” You barked.

“Do you know what you got on your tests? The ones I so kindly reminded you about all week.”

“You’re avoiding my question” Mother snapped her piercing gaze up to yours leaving you frozen.

“How about I am your mother and I’ll decide where this conversation goes. So tell me do you know what you got on your tests?” She hissed.  

“…High C’s ma'am” though you hesitated your gaze did not drop from hers.

“High or low, you know the rules. If you want the privilege of friends nothing can be below a high B.” Her eyes dropped back to the papers.

“I-.."

"As for the Toby Kagnam boy or whatever his name was, I want you to stay away from him. You have no use for dating relationships let alone the time for them. This next week I want you to come straight home and start packing. Our concert will be in Tokyo, and then we are leaving for England.” Your gaze cascaded to the floor as she spoke. You clenched your jaw and your balled up fists began to shake. You furrowed your brows.

“Your concert…” you muttered.

“What was that?” Your mother once again hissed. Her brows raised and eyes widened when met with the fire held behind your eyes.

“It’s your concert. I didn’t choose to do this concert or this music. All of the profit our family receives from the concert goes to you!” You argued. An eery scowl formed on your mother’s face. You narrowed your flaming arrows for eyes. “You set these insane expectations for me and when I don’t meet them you put in extreme punishments! You have moved me three times because you’re paranoid that if I get too close to people their going to see what a terrible mother I have.” Your arms flew about wildly much like the lid on your emotions. “You insult and degrade me constantly and still expect me to respect and listen to you! You make everything sound like it’s for the better of the family but really it’s all about you” adrenaline pumped through your body.

’I guess the blondes are done with fun’ You thought while you paused.

“It doesn’t matter what you do to me as long as it’s all about you.” You growled as the sound of your mother’s grinding teeth got louder.

’I think the blondes are done; we’re all too cool for fun’ You marched closer to the table, “and that boy” you sneered “is named Tobio Kageyama. He is the closest friend I’ve made here, and honestly I wish he was my boyfriend. 'Cause he is sweet, accepts me for who I am and what I look like, and cares for me a hell of a lot more than you ever have or tried to. But you probably know that since you asked him to stay for dinner. He probably said some stuff you didn’t like and that’s why you want to move and for me to stay away from him.” The fiery arrows behind your eyes shot through your mother’s soul as molten poisonous hatred dripped from you words.

      "Get out.“ Your mother hissed but you stood your ground. She slammed her fists on the table, "Get out of this house now!” She swiped all the papers infront of her off the table. You scoffed before turning around

“Can’t even swallow your pride and come up with an apology.” Upon reaching the doorway a mug crashes against the wall next to you. In fear of being in the face by the next thing thrown you didn’t look back while exiting. You slam the door behind you and stormed off to highschool.

      Luckily for you the boys we’re still practicing. You sat in you normal spot and watched. Later when it was just Hinata, Kageyama, and you they offered for you to join.

“You look like you need to let off steam and practice always helps Kageyama and I” Hinata explained so you shrugged and figured why not. After teaching you how to properly spike, Hinata stepped back and let Kageyama set. Although it wasn’t Hinata powerful, your spikes weren’t that bad. An hour of practicing with the boys they call it quits. You sighed,

“I suppose this means I need to go home now.” Kageyama’s eyebrows slanted up and furrowed together as worry glazed over his ocean eyes. The brows relaxed and sparkles sat atop his worry ridden eyes.

“You can hang out with me. I’m sure my mom will be fine with driving you home when you want to go."

"Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” He extended his hand out to you, “so?” You stare at his hand for a moment. What you wanted was clear in your head but whether or not it was what you should do was foggy. With a small smile you took his hand and walked with him.

“Fine. She doesn’t want me home right now anyways” You squeezed his hand lightly. Hinata furrowed his brows,

“What do you mean?” Kageyama raised his hand like he was going to smack the tangerine boy.

“It’s fine Kags. My mom and I just fought and she needs time to cool off that’s all.” You reassured the poor boy. For most of the walk Hinata did all the talking. It wasn’t until Hinata was gone that you and Kageyama actually decided to talk.

      "How do you practice everyday like that and not get tired.“ You whined.

"I suppose my love for volleyball helps.” He shrugged. You laughed and he arched an eyebrow.

“Through the power of love and friendship you shall overcome this fatigue!” You teased. He narrowed his eyes and picked you up and twirled around.

“Ah no!” You giggle, “put me down. I take it back, I take it back!” He set you down and joined your laughter. For a moment the world disappeared. There was nothing but you, Kageyama, and this moment you were sharing. After the two of you finished you laugh he lifted your chin. Waves butterflies fluttered in your stomach when met with a genuine smile and caring eyes.

“I was worried I couldn’t make you smile,” his hand slipped back to his side. “I know you will tell me what happened when you’re ready but I want you to remember that I’m here for you. I know I’m not very good at this whole shoulder to cry on thing but I want to be for you.” He confessed. Those butterflies quickly turned to crows. Your insides twisted and churned as the crows tried to scratch their way out.

“I-.. I don’t know what to say Kags,” you turned your face away and rubbed the back of your neck.

'What have I done.. I- I got too close…’ you cursed in your head. May god smite you before he ever sees the shame on your face from being afraid. The world snapped back into place around you. Kageyama quickly took your hand into his and began to walk. He gave your hand a squeeze,

“I-It’s oak- oaky- aye-… okay. You don’t have to say anything.” The worry in his voice killed you.

'I’m such an idiot.’ Your thoughts were engulfed by your mother’s voice going on about how she was right and how you’ll do nothing but hurt those around you.

      Ruff, Ruff-Ruff. Hearty barks came from ahead you. To your surprise there sat, with a waging tail, your dog.

“KARMA! What are you doing here sweetness!?” You exclaimed as you hand slipped out of Kageyama’s. The two of you ran to the dogs side.

“This is your dog?” Kageyama pet the pretty pooch. You nodded your head as you furiously dialed your mother’s number.

“Yeah. Karma couldn’t have gotten out on her own though. Can you watch her? I’m not going anywhere but I don’t want to loose her while I’m on the phone.” You waited for you mom to answer.

“What do you want pest?” She sneered upon answering.

“You let Karma out!? You know how dangerous that is!!”

“Come home. We’re leaving tonight.” Fury coursed through you body,

“No! I’m going to stay here, I’m sure Kageyama’s family can lend an extra room for a while.”

“Strike one. If you don’t come home I will send her to the pound labeled as agressive”

“You can’t do that! Even if you did they’d see she was a sweet and kind dog long before a bad family tried to adopt her.”

“Strike two. Y/n, I’m getting impatient. Here’s what’s going to happen if you don’t come home, first I’m going to call the cops and tell them you ran away and that I know where your at. Then I’m going to claim that you are in danger due to a deranged stray mutt stalking the streets.” Your guts twisted and flipped with every new detail. “When I find you I’m going to charge Kageyama’s family with kidnapping-”

“You can’t do that!”

“YES! I CAN! By law I can charge them with kidnapping even though you went to them willingly. Finally when I tell them I found you I will approach you in an agressive way and one of two things will happen. Karma is such a good little pest that she wont be able to help protecting you. So, one she bites me or two you go to stop her and she bites you by accident. Either way that mutt will get put down for biting.” Your heart dropped and hopelessness set it. What could you do? She had you wrapped around her finger at this point. “Now we wouldn’t want to ruin you boy toy’s or that runt you call dog’s life, would we?” Tears formed in your eyes. You guts untwisted and faded from existence leaving an empty hole inside of you.

“N-no.. no ma'am.” Is all you could mutter. A chilling chuckle came from the other end of the call.

“Come home.”

“Yes ma'am,” the phone call ended.

’No plastic or paper can take her or make her; Shake from the fact she’s my world devastator’

      "Y/n?“ Kageyama walked to your side and Karma nudged your hand.

"I… have to go.” You didn’t even have the energy to lift your head or look at him. You walked away with Karma and Kageyama following you.

“Y/n you can’t be serious. What did she say. I’m sure we can prove what she does to you. Y/n! Are you even listening. You can’t give up! We can find a way!!!” He begged and persisted. It hurt to ignore, but this was going to hurt more.

“SHUT UP TOBIO!” You screamed, “Just give it a rest! There isn’t anything anyone can do, especially you! So just leave me alone and forget about me!” Tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Y-Y/n..” it hurt to hear and see the pain in him.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so close to you.. my mother was right, I will always hurt those closest to me. You are the only person I love and the best thing that’s happened to me. You will find someone better than me and that’s a good thing because… I have to go.” Your chest felt like it was going collapse on itself. You almost couldn’t say it but you knew you had to,

“G-… goodbye Tobio Kageyama."  You spun around and walked away.

’You… I think the blondes are done; We’re all too cool for fun’

~The End~