#HAPPY to say more about any parts of sid's life past/future or his personality or his relationships aslksjskkssk plz feed me

[spotofimagines]

Picture ~ Hoosier Smith

A/N: This is for @inglourious-imagines writing challenge, absolutely check out anything else written for it (the pieces I've read so far have been wonderful!) and maybe even take part yourself! Here's a little snippet into downtime with H company, enjoy :)

Warnings: smoking

Summary: Leckie's sister sent him a picture of them both, and Hoosier is intruiged...

5. If I ever see you anywhere near him/her/them, you'll have to deal with me.

Down time away from battle was both rare and well-received amongst the men on the island. A minute or two to catch their breath, have a cigarette, take in the yellow sky beside the sea, reload their weapons. It was just as much useful as it was needed.

Days when the Captains knew the fighting would hold off for longer were the days letters got passed around. Small reminders from family about the reasons to fight and the love they have waiting for them back home.

Leckie had been lucky enough to hear from you this time around. His darling sister. The only person who wasn't working in writing that he thought should be. You always had a natural nick for words and he truly enjoyed reading your letters whenever they came.

This time, however, the envelope held an extra piece of luxury. Black and white and bent on one corner, was a picture of the two of you, dressed nicely for summer and stood smiling outside a restaurant you had just shared lunch in. Down toward the end of the letter, you wrote about finding it in a shoebox in your mother's closet whilst redecorating her bedroom, along with the promise of taking him to that restaurant again as soon as he comes back, so he can get another taste of that scrumptious lemon tart he'd gone so long without.

When he finished reading your letter, he just looked at the picture again, fiddling with the bent corner until he noticed the writing on the back: "For when you need a little happiness." A small smile formed on his face at this as he flipped the card around to see you again. His relationship with his parents was termultuous, his father especially, but he's always loved you to the moon and back. His sister was really special to him and alongside Vera, you were the person helping him to keep fighting every time he woke up. This picture was going to stay close to him from now on.

" 'kay Leckie, you go."

He looked up at the group and the smile fell from his face. He'd been so busy thinking about seeing you again that he'd pretty much forgotten where he was, and he'd definitely forgotten the group of boys around him. He cleared his throat and looked back down at the picture. "It's from my sister." He began smiling again but rolled his eyes at the low whistles sounding in the hot air.

"Oh, you should not have told us that, man." Runner laughed and Chuckler broke into a huge grin, leaning over Leckie's right shoulder to peek at what the photograph entailed.

"I didn't know you had a sister?" Hoosier's deep voice said, confused as he released a breath of smoke. Leckie huffed and closed his lips tight. Reluctantly picking up the picture you sent, praying thanks to god that you had it laminated, he twisted it round for Hoosier to see. Runner leant over to try and catch a glimpse but didn't get much of a look in before Hoosier had grabbed it to inspect Leckie's sister properly.

"It's from summer a few years back. Says she'll take me there again when she can," Leckie grinned to himself whilst he skimmed over the last part of the letter he had missed before, "and that she'll introduce me to her new friend to talk to as well." He raised his eyebrows and shook his head a little with a quiet laugh. Runner whistled, shaking his own head and muttering "Good for some, huh?" to no one in particular. You didn't know your brother had a thing for Vera Keller, actually he couldn't be sure you even knew he'd spoken to her before. He supposes he'll keep that to himself before you start meddling without him in town to repair the damage.

Chuckler's large hand meets Leckie's shoulder and squeezes it. "That sounds nice." He smiles kindly and offers him a cigarette which Leckie takes with a nod.

Hoosier is still deeply inspecting the picture of you both, eyebrows pressed together as he takes you in. Turning it round incase there was a message on the back, just like his mother did to her photographs, he finds your hidden message and smirks a little. It was a sign of a sweet woman, he'd been told. Well, he hoped so, because you sure looked like one.

His eyebrows furrow together again in thought when he brushes a dot of dirt off your face with his thumb, until a quiet washes over the group. "I think I should write to your sister, Leckie." He spoke, not moving his eyes off the picture. Leckie's head whips to Hoosier and it adamantly shakes side to side, a breathy laugh following. "Absolutely not."

There was always teasing like that with other soldier's family members but Leckie couldn't even play along when it came to his sister, especially not with the boys in his company. He'd seen what they were like when left to their own resources. You were far too good to have to deal with any of them.

Hoosier looked up at Leckie and, despite his seriousness, had to hide the grin working it's way onto his face. "She seems like the perfect woman to me."

"You don't even know her." Leckie bit back, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Hoosier shrugged and calmly turned his eyes back to the picture in his hand. "Well maybe she could take me to this restaurant and I get to know her, she looks lovely." Hoosier was speaking earnestly but, around marines, talk like that was nothing but jokes and Leckie didn't want it.

Runner's bright grin as he watched his friend had Leckie taking action to stop it as soon as possible. "No." Leckie deadpanned at Hoosier's suggestion. Hoosier jutted his hands out and frowned, watching Runner opposite him in the circle, silently asking why he wasn't allowed. The fact he genuinely cared was lost on Leckie, who had heard it all before from Hoosier about Chuckler's sister not too long ago.

Leckie took the opportunity to grab the picture back from him which put Hoosier's eyes on his friend like a hawk. Leckie tucked the picture under the letter on his lap then leant his elbows on his knees, pointing a cigarette-clad hand Hoosier's way. "If I ever see you anywhere near her, you'll have to deal with me." Leckie threatened, fully serious in his words.

But Hoosier's chuckle had Leckie smirking before smoking again. "I'd like to see you do that, truly." Runner and Chuckler were laughing at Hoosier's words now and Leckie was trying hard not to join in, but there was no use, he just chuckled along with them behind his hand.

Sid traipsed over and dropped down on the other side of Hoosier with an envelope of his own in his hands. Hoosier just leant closer to Leckie and spoke again, making sure he knew he was trying to be as authentic as he could. "You know you should at least give me her adress so I can write her a letter," his sincere voice had Leckie raising his eyebrows a little as he blew the smoke in his mouth out to the side, questioning whether he actually should consider it, until, "do you think she'd give me a picture?"

Nevermind.

Leckie shoved Hoosier away from him, shaking his head, no sign of enthusiasm in him at all. Hoosier just looked confused at Runner for the second time. The smaller man just laughed away, his bright eyes shining joy at the utter loss on Hoosier's face. "It was a genuine question..." he mumbled but wasn't heard over Chuckler inviting Sid to share with the group what he had gotten. Runner shrugged at Hoosier before turning his attention to Sid, his smile fading to make way for his new curiosity.

Hoosier just smoked, not really caring about Sid's family life at the moment. He couldn't help himself stealing glances over at Leckie as they all listened to Sid's letter, wondering if he'd be able to sneak a bit more time with the picture or to read the letter you'd written.

Thing is, Hoosier did joke a lot about that sort of stuff, but there was seriously something about that photograph that had his brain ticking, working to find a way to talk to you. It would be nice to have someone send him letters beside his own mother, that's for sure. And now that he knew the challenge of getting past stone-faced Leckie existed, he was going try as hard as he could, be persistent every day, to get that address and have that lunch with you some time in the future.

[zashamalkin]

Translation of Anna Kasterova’s live interview on 5/29/20.

Thanks to my amazing Gino Anon, the entire interview is translated below the cut. Final word count, btw, is 2405 so like, send big thanks their way. Holy shit! 

Anna got sick few days before the interview. Not covid, just a cold, that later turned into otitis. It was very painful, but now she’s feeling way better, though she still has some trouble hearing with her left ear. They talk a bit about the weather in Miami (it’s been raining there for a few days, but it’s still pretty hot). Igor asks if they’re allowed to swim during the quarantine. Anna says that the 1/ 

beaches were recently open, but there are obviously rules about keeping the safe distance. “Is Zhenya a good swimmer?” “Yeah, he’s great. He’s spending a lot of time with Nikita, teaching him how to swim. More in the pool though, than in the ocean.” “How do you and Zhenya feel about the latest news in NHL?” “I think, the idea is pretty good. Everyone has been waiting on some news about this season. I asked Zhenya if he preferred for the season to be cancelled. He said, he wanted to finish it 2/ 

properly. This season has been great for him, he’s in a great shape. And even though he hasn’t been skating for 2 months, he’s still been training pretty hard, running, roller skating and he didn’t lose his shape.” She thinks everything is turning pretty good so far and it’s great that the teams will have a time for training camps and a chance to go to playoffs.“In your opinion, were the players mentally prepared to continue the season?” “I think, those, who genuinely want to go to playoffs, 3/ 

have been working very hard to be ready, when the time comes. But, for sure, there are some players, who spent more time relaxing, rather than training. A lot of teams are asking their players to come back and start training on the ice and not all of the players follow their instructions.” “What are the rules about practice right now? Are they allowed to train in groups or…?” “There are no details about it yet. It haven’t even been decided yet, what cities will be chosen as Hub cities. So far 4/ 

the coaches are asking players to stay in shape. They have video calls together, where they go through different footage every time. But, as far as I understand, the organization and the coaching staff are ready for the players to come back.” “How do the players feel about the new rules for playoffs this season?” “No negative feelings. They’ve been under a lot of mental pressure, not knowing anything about the season and the playoffs. Everything seems pretty logical and they’re very happy to 5/ 

get back on ice and to have a chance to fight for SC.” “Is there any inside information about what cities will be chosen as Hubs?” “No one knows anything for sure. But I know that they’re very carefully considering epidemiological situation in the cities and will choose the safest options. ” *I SUCK at translating hockey terminology from Russian to English, so I’m sorry if anything is incorrect.* “Do you think it would’ve been fairer to include the numbers of “play-in” (I have no idea what he 6/ 

means by “play-in”) as well as the Robin Rounds into the statistics of regular season? Because it would give the players, like Ovechkin and Panarin, and Malkin to gain more points.” “It’s a very difficult question. But I’m sure NHL and NHLPA have gone over all the possible scenarios and have chosen the best one.” “How has Geno been handling the quarantine?” “He’s been very calm and collected. He’s been doing great mentally, smiling and cracking jokes, and keeping us safe and happy.” “Why did 7/

your family (meaning Geno, Anna and Nikita) decide to do a covid testing in early April?” “I had a pneumonia in November and wanted to find out for myself, if it was covid-induced, if I had any antibodies for the virus. But all the testing came back negative. None of us had it.” “What books did you and Zhenya read during the quarantine?” “Zhenya likes to read fantasy books. He’s been reading “Quantum Warrior: The Future of the Mind” by John Kehoe.” “Does he read in English?” “No, in English 8/

he’s mostly watching TV shows.” “I was very impressed by the story, that after his 1st season in NHL, Zhenya hired Russian language and literature teacher.” “He’s had a lot of free time these past 2 months and he’s hired 2 tutors: English language tutor to work on his grammar and Russian language tutor. (*Sorry, I don’t know if I need to explain this, but Geno obviously knows how to speak Russian. What I think Anna means here, is that the pronunciation of the words in Russian changes depending9/

on where the person is from. Every region has its own accent. I think, what Geno is trying to do, is lose his Magnitogorsk accent and start to speak clearer Russian, like ppl in Moscow of St. Petersburg do.*) He has classes with his tutors Monday to Friday. I’m very happy for him.” One of Geno’s friends in Russia has been robbed recently. Igor is asking Anna, if they ever considered buying a gun, since it’s allowed in US. Anna says no, they feel safe and they live a good neighborhood. She 10/

doesn’t think it necessary or appropriate. They talk a bit about Ovi’s second child being born recently and if Geno and Anna are planning on having a second child any time soon. “Of course, we wouldn’t mind having another child. If it happens, we’ll be very happy. I would like to have a girl, though.” “What’s the best way to describe Zhenya’s and Ovechkin’s relationships today? Are they friends or rivals” “Both. And healthy rivalry is very important in order to reach their personal goals.” 11/

“When Caps and Pens play each other, is it possible for them to go have dinner after.” “No.” “What can you say about the relationships between Zhenya and Sidney Crosby? When we talked with Zhenya last year, he said very nice and kind things about him. Even though Zhenya is in Sid’s shadow a lot of the time.” “I can talk about it for hours. They push each other and make each other stronger. But they also can step in and do more than anyone, when the other is hurt and not playing. Off the ice, 12/

they are very good friends and they support each other. Have I ever thought about what his life would be like, if he was the only star player in a team? I think, he’d be the best player in the whole NHL. He’s very intelligent in terms of building a game, always plans 2-3 steps ahead. He’s very fearless in his game, very talented and vey multilateral player. He’s very unique. They won together THREE STANLEY CUPS! No one's saying Crosby is less talented. He’s an incredible player, he works very13/

hard every day. They are 2 number 1 players in this team. If Zhenya ever asked me if I’d like him to play in New York, f/e, I’d say, no. Pittsburgh is his city, his home. And management and coaching staff are also a very important part of team success. The relationship inside the team is very important. And Pens are the best in that, imo.” “You two watched Super Bowl at Sid’s place. What’s it like there?” “It’s a tradition. Every year Sid invites the team with their wifes/gfs/kids to watch 14/

Super Bowl. His gf Kathy does all the cooking. She’s a very geart person, very hospitable. *omg, this is the first time I hear any1 talking about Sid’s gf 😀, aww* Everyone on the team is very open, very kind, they are great guys. It’s the best thing about Pens. So we’re always happy to accept Sid’s invitation and we always have a great time.” “Do you want Nikita to become a hockey player?” “We’re not gonna push him to it. If it’s something he wants, sure. But I have big plans for his 15/

education. I’d like him to know 2 languages, (English) and Russian, especially grammar, not just being able to speak it freely. I’m studying with him and for an almost 4 yo he already knows quite a lot. And it’s always very hard for a child of a parent, who has achieved so much, to surpass that kind of success. And I don’t want my son to have this kind of pressure on him. I don’t want him to be known solely as “Malkin’s son”. For me it’s very important for him to get a good education and to 16/

choose his path in life.” “Talking about the tv series about Michael Jordan, would you like a bio series to be shot about Zhenya?” “I know he wants to act, in a tv series or in a movie. He talked about it many times. As for a biopic, of course I would like that. He has a huge success story. A man from a simple, working class family. It’s very expensive to play hockey. And he was so talented even in a young age, that his coaches would sometimes bring him a puck, or a stick, or a uniform, for 17/

free. Add to that a story about him finally getting to NHL.” “Zhenya said once in an interview, that you fight sometimes about him not being open enough w/ you, not sharing his problems etc. Has it changed during the quarantine?” “Everything’s been great during quarantine. During the season, he’s under a lot of pressure and always takes it hard if the team loses or if he doesn’t score. Right now he’s very calm and happy, and everything is great.” A question about a conflict around Geno having18/

a USA passport (a lot of people in Russia, his celebrity friends especially, weren’t happy with that, and judged him for that). What does Anna think about it? “He’s a patriot. He loves his country and his city. We were in a hopeless situation, when I needed to get all the documents ready ASAP, and we needed to get married, and him having a US passport would speed that up. You could say, he did it for me. On the other hand, America is his 2nd home. He spends here more time than in Russia. He’s19/

been working here for years. Why is that such a big problem? It’s not like he turned his back on Russia or anything.” Then she talked about Geno’s donation to families in Magnitogorsk, who suffered bc of explosion that happened there in December 2018, and how much he gives to his community in Russia, that ppl don’t know about, bc he prefers not to advertise it. Then Igor keeps asking political questions and Anna is getting more and more irritated by them. Geno publicly supported Putin’s 20/

reelection whenever that was, and interviewer is asking whether him having an American passport is appropriate, considering that he’s a part of Putin team? “Why is it inappropriate? America and Russia are not enemies. Yes, there are some unresolved political issues. They are 2 huge countries, of course they will always feel threatened by each other. But I don’t see any serious political confrontation. Maybe bc we’re in US right now. But Zhenya has a great respect for his president. *bleh, I 21/

don’t like Putin. I know, she has to say nice things about him, bc as long as Geno is a part of Team Russia and wants to have a life in Russia, they can’t be openly against him. But both Geno and Anna don’t strike me as ppl, who will support Putin’s ideals. Sorry for me butting in w/ my opinion*” Question about Geno’s new diet after 18-19 season. “He never drinks alcohol during season. He doesn’t eat potatoes anymore. It’s very hard to cook him a soup w/o any potatoes in it. No sweet things,22/

no gluten. Now before games, he eats gluten-free pasta.” “Is he very superstitious? Do you try to wean him off some of them?” “No, if it makes him feel comfortable, why would I do that?” She declined to name any of them, bc it’s a personal thing for Geno. “Do you put in any work in Zhenya’s image and style?” “I think so, a bit. His sense of style has become better, his taste in literature.” “Zhenya’s favorite music?” “Russian pop-music mostly.” Question about Geno’s gaming habits. Anna 23/

doesn’t try to control him or tell him not to play, bc for him these computer games are a way to relax. She doesn’t mind. It’s his personal time. He doesn’t have his computer in Miami, so he found another way to spend time – studying with his tutors. Question about Olympics. “Yes, he’d like to win a gold medal with Team Russia, when the time comes.” He doesn’t feel jealous about Datsyuk or Kovalchuk, who have an Olympic gold. “Do you think, Zhenya’s last hockey season before retirement will 24/

be in Magnitogorsk?” “Sure, I don’t see why not. He’s very grateful for everything Metallurg gave him and it would seem logical for him to come back there before retiring.” “What is Zhenya’s biggest motivation right now?” “He’s very self-critical (she means Geno’s words about his skills in 18-19 season). He always has a high bar for himself and je always tries to reach it.” Question about Geno reaching 1000 pts. “It was a very big moment for us and a big win for him. He was very inspired 25/

by it and it gave him a lot of self-confidence.” ‘Was Zhenya mad about not making NHL’s 100 players list?” “I was. I was very angry. But he knows his value and what he’s achieved as a player. But it was very strange for me.” “Who do you think Zhenya wil be after his career ends? And how will your life together change? Will you spend more time in Russia or in US?” “It’s a tough question. I imagine a house by the lake, in Russia, with kids and, later, grandkids. With a big fireplace. I think, 26/

after finishing his career, we’d like to travel a bit. But I don’t know. It’s something you should ask him.”

[buffyversefanfiction]

Twisted Tristan’s Tormented Christmas

Fandoms: Buffy the vampire slayer, Angel, Buffy Dark Horse comics, Buffyverse and A Christmas Carol.

Warnings: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse.

15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

“Have yourself a merry little…” The voice on the television began to sing with a campy Christmas cheer before the song was abruptly ended by Tristan switching off the television in the living room of the apartment, he shared with Faith above their bar Rogue’s. “Christmas is cancelled this year; we are drinking straight through to New Year’s.” A drunken Tristan declared, while wearing just a pair of tight white boxer briefs as he held a half empty bottle of whisky in his hands, before crashing on to the nearby couch. This year had been especially difficult for Tristan Summers, who had went from being a vampire who was possessed by a demon, to being killed, only to come back to life and find himself sucked into a twisted dimension where he and his parents Buffy and Angel worked together to kill the shadow demon that had once possessed him. Being back from the dead should have been reason enough for Tristan to celebrate Christmas, however, despite many pleas from both of his infamous parents he continued to decline, even going as far as convincing Faith to head to Los Angels for Christmas so he would not have anybody to remind him come the day. The earliest Christmases that Tristan could remember with his adoptive parents seemed like a perfect Christmas looking back which were probably heavily influenced by nostalgia and how much he missed them. Heck, even his Christmases spent with vampires Dante and Drusilla were fun for him, of course they were all crazy and there’d usually be humans on the table instead of turkey but it still felt like a family holiday, a deeply disturbed family, but family nonetheless and after so many losses, heartbreaks, and betrayals, Tristan was done with it all, especially Christmas. After everything him, Buffy, and Angel had gone through to get to a place where their relationship was somewhat healthy, or at least healthier than Tristan trying to kill his biological parents, he did feel guilty for rejecting both of their invitations but he just did not feel ready to open himself up to another form of family, especially not on Christmas Day.

As the hours passed, Tristan waited until his bottle of whisky was completely empty before passing out drunk on the couch where he sat but sleep was not something he would get much of on the night of December 22nd as he suddenly found himself being awakened by his old high school friend Mandi Jenkins, startling him to his core, considering Mandi was killed by Drusilla not too long ago. “Mandi,” Tristan mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what stood before him. “How is this possible? Your dead…I saw your body myself after Dru killed you.” “I believe the correct answer would be it’s the magic of Christmas, believe it or not that kind of thing really does exist but to be fair in a world filled with vampires, witches, slayers and sons of slayers is it really that far of a stretch that Christmas really is that special after all.” Mandi replied to her old friend. “Clearly, I am dreaming once again.” Tristan realized, as he stood up from his couch. “There’s only so many twisted dream scenarios one unhinged slayer can handle before he becomes completely and utterly tormented like…” “Drusilla…you were going to say Drusilla, right?” Mandi interrupted the slayer’s son, instantly noticing his guilt over mention the name of her killer to her so casually. “It’s okay Drusilla killed me, biggest surprise was it was not you who killed me…and I use the term loosely considering I am not actually Mandi.” “Are you the first? Please tell me you’re the first and not the shadow demon because I am getting sick of going up against the shadow demon.” Tristan complained. “I am the ghost of Christmas past.” Mandi revealed to him, only to be met by laughs of disbelief from Tristan. “Are we really doing this?” Tristan asked in between laughs.

Exactly one blink later and before his very eyes he was now standing next to Mandi on the snow covered grass of his family home in Riverborn looking into the dining room window to see his adoptive parents playing games, talking and laughing with each other and a six year old version of himself. “They loved Christmas so much, my dad used to dress up as Santa, I guess like most dads did but he really committed to the role either that or I was a really dumb kid because I was shocked when I found it was him.” Tristan admitted to Mandi, with tears in his eyes as he watched a beautiful Christmas memory before his very eyes. “Do you remember how our parents used to meet up on Christmas night and it would be like this big mash up of Christmas? And how you used to spend New Year’s with me every year?” “I know I look like Mandi, but I am not actually her remember,” The ghost of Christmas past reminded him. “I can see why Christmas is so difficult when it serves as a reminder of all you’ve lost but not all of which you have lost is bad…” “What does that mean?” Tristan wondered, before realizing. “Dante and Drusilla…I loved them like family too and the whole time they were the ones who killed my real family, first my parents, then you, well Mandi…” “I know how much Mandi Jenkins meant to you which is why I chose to take this form and I know the guilt you feel for not only her death but your parents’ too but all of that was out of your control.” Mandi of Christmas past explained to the son of the slayer. “Maybe not…but killing Mandi’s boyfriend was definitely all me, killing all those slayers, and all those innocents, that is all on me without any excuses and that is something I can never make up for.” Tristan admitted, never forgetting the horrors he had committed with his own hands. “I could feed you the line and play the role of a person endorsing your shit by saying you were manipulated by two vampires, one whom you were in love with, but the truth is you chose that path and you killed all of those innocents and that is something you should have to live with for the rest of your life without a doubt!” Mandi made clear to Tristan. “However, that does not mean you should resign yourself to the shadows, if you truly want to redeem yourself and be the better person then you need to learn the true differences between the past you, your present and what your future may look like.”

It was December 23rd the eve before Christmas eve and Tristan had all but regulated his experiences the night before as nothing more than a drunken dream as he pulled himself together, showered, washed, and put on some clothes before opening up his and Faith’s bar Rogues which they opened during the day despite the fact most of their customers couldn’t step out in the day, however, one particularly loyal customer only showed up during the day, Miss Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins, a former vengeance demon from an alternate world who had found herself annoyingly human and in New York City. “So, you spend a thousand years give or take with the best gig a girl can ask for…minus all the bloody bunnies and then boom some shadow demon gives you an offer you cannot refuse although in hindsight I probably should have…” A drunk Anya Jenkins slurred while drinking her bottle of beer, sat on a stool, at the bar counter, within Rogues bar, which was empty barring her and her bartender Tristan Summers, who stood behind the counter, looking far from amused by his company. “Only to be beat by two humans and the worst part of it all is not only does the world suck a lot more than I hoped for but this world’s version of my boss tells me I have no choice but to stay human because this world’s me was given too many chances…” “You have told me this story every time you come in here in the afternoon, always drunk before the sunsets, forcing me to get you a taxi so you do not wind up some vamp’s dinner…” Tristan complained to her. “You need to get over it already and find yourself some kind of life you do not totally hate living.” “Oh, I am very sorry if my life’s problems bore you!” Anya said with great sarcasm. “It was you lot who did this to me…it’s only fair you have to wallow in my misery with me.” “Hey, do not get uppity with me because you were bested by a broken key and a halfwit.” Tristan mocked the former vengeance demon, and by doing so also mocked Dawn and her boyfriend Xander. “You are almost as bad as Sid for the complaining, but the guy is a freaking puppet who cannot drink…real problems, unlike yours!” “Remind me again why I keep choosing to come back here to a bar which service is severely lacking?” Anya asked, while digging at Tristan at the same time. “Because this is the only place stupid enough to let you have a tab!” Tristan replied. “Which was definitely more Faith’s idea than mine considering I know for a fact you are never going to find a way of paying us back nor do you want to look.” “You make an excellent point,” Anya responded before finishing her beer and placing the empty bottle onto the bar counter. “Where is your fellow slayer anyway?” “Spending Christmas in Los Angeles with everyone including the two humans who brought you down to your knees.” Tristan informed her, all too happily. “If I knew you were this much fun during the holidays I would have told her to take you with them although considering you’re an alternate world version of the girl Xander almost married I do not think Dawn would be too happy…saying that I am not too sure if I care about her not being happy.” “So, you turned down being somewhere for Christmas so you could serve me alcohol all through the holiday and yet I’m the one who needs to get a life?” Anya said blatantly, as she stood up from the barstool and began walking towards the bar door, ready to leave Tristan alone to think about her latest insult.

Later that very same night after he was finished closing up Rogues, the only male slayer Tristan went straight to bed, avoiding any drinks in an attempt to avoid further dreams about Christmas past, but alas the ghost of Christmas past and had come and gone and it was now time for the ghost of Christmas present and who better to represent it than Drusilla, a vampire that Tristan had a lot of history with, history which continued to troubled him right up to this very day, and possibly in the future too. “My boy still looks like an angel when he sleeps but the things, he’s done makes his daddy angel weep and weep.” Drusilla tormented Tristan, as the male slayer awoke from his sleep to find her stood above his bed within his bedroom. “Considering you were not invited into this home this has got to be another dream,” Tristan reassured himself, as he climbed out of bed and stood up on the floor, ready to face the vampire who made him into the monster he once was. “So, are we still on the theme of Christmas or is this just another dream with you in it?” “Yes, I do seem to haunt your dreams on the regular…tell me what is worse for you? The dreams in which I am killing everybody you loved which serve more like flashbacks than dreams, or is it the dreams in which you’re happy, we’re happy, Dante, and Mandi too?” Drusilla, the ghost of Christmas present, questioned the man who once loved her like a mother, knowing the turmoil her mere presence caused him. “I cannot believe I am saying this,” Tristan admitted to both himself and the ghost of Christmas present, eager to avoid anymore talk of his troubling past. “Please tell me this is another Christmas dream…” “Yes,” Drusilla said after a sinister cackle, the Christmas ghost playing their part of the deranged vampire a little to well, before the two found themselves standing outside the front doors of the Hyperion Hotel, within the garden, looking through the front doors to see Tristan’s father Angel reluctantly decorating a large tree within the reception area of the hotel, under close super vision by the all-powerful witch Willow. “Hate to break it to you Dru but if this is what you have to show me then your seriously lacking in the sinister department these days…or this Christmas ghost version of you is way too much Christmas and not enough Halloween.” Tristan scorned Drusilla, as he continued to watch his father Angel decorate a tree with Willow, looking further to find Faith and Spike knocking back drinks at the counter of the reception area, while behind the reception area Giles, his mother’s watcher, was heavy into what looked like a game of scrabble with Dawn and Xander, the watcher looking justifiably frustrated by what Tristan assumed was the others lack of verbal intellect in comparison to Giles. As Tristan continued to search through the festive scenery before his very eyes, taking Drusilla’s silence as a hint to continue examining what lay before him, after a few more moments he found his mother Buffy Summers sat on the stairs playing dolls with her six year old niece, and his cousin, Joyce Harris, and for some reason that he did not want to admit to himself he began to feel a gut in his stomach, jealous not of Joyce or her child play, but broken by the sign of Buffy being motherly to a child, a child that was not him, a child that would never be him. “You are right in thinking she will never be like that with you, for you a neither a child, or remotely innocent…the days of that ever being likely for you are well and truly over.” Drusilla told him. “You are never too old to be somebody’s son but are you too far gone to allow anyone to love you like that?” “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tristan questioned the vampire, confused by her often-cryptic ways of putting a sentence together. But before the son of the slayer could get any answers from the ghost of Christmas present he found himself waking back up in his bed in his bedroom, only this time there was no sign of Drusilla to be found.

It was now December 24th, officially the eve before Christmas, and it felt to Tristan like this particular Christmas was on steroids, as Christmases tended to feel like during times people were far from feeling the festive spirit, and it seemed to Mr. Summers that he could not turn on a television, stream a song, or listen to the radio, without the message of Christmas being shoved down his throat, but as he opened up his bar for another day to night shift, he began to look forward to the distraction of Anya Jenkins, knowing she would be the last person to feel the festive cheer, or at least that is what he thought. As Anya strolled into Rogue’s dressed as a literal elf, holding a hot, sexy, and barely dressed, male Santa in her arms looking happier than she had ever looked before, Tristan could not believe his eyes, believing instantly some sinister magic was to blame for this ungodly sight before him. “I thought you hated elves why the hell are you dressed up like one?” Tristan asked Anya, as she sat down at the bar with her festive suitor. “It’s bunnies, it’s always been bunnies, bloody bunnies!” Anya corrected the male slayer, unnerved by mentioning the creatures she feared the most. “So, you hate Easter but not Christmas then?” Tristan wondered, before turning to examine the sexy Santa, failing to not notice his amazingly chiseled and seemingly oiled hairless chest. “Or do you just have a kink for Santa’s…which judging by this one makes a whole lot of sense.” “I like money, and lots of it, and I got myself as an elf at some shopping mall…can you believe shopping malls are still a thing on this world? In my world we enslaved all designers forcing them to make their designs exclusive to us which definitely wound up backfiring when they started stitching terribly and we got all angry and killed them all.” Anya revealed to Tristan, with a sense of fondness. “Now those were the days…” “Did you just say this world…as in you’re from another planet or something? Because that is super cool, everyone meets vampires and demons these days, but I never hear stories about aliens.” A clearly confused sexy Santa asked Anya, all too excited by the potential of her being an alien. “I knew by Xander that dumb was your type but at least this one’s hot.” Tristan told Anya, mocking both Xander and the sexy Santa without care. “Well aliens are from another planet and I am from another universe so yes, I’m technically an alien to this world anyways.” Anya replied to Tristan, before going on to say. “Also, I am not the Anya who almost married that lump I am the Anya that has only had the misfortune to meet him once.” “So, Santa what do you want to drink?” Tristan asked the man, eager to change from the topic of aliens. “Oh, I do not drink, I respect what goes into my body.” The sexy Santa, instantly losing all appeal to both Anya and Tristan within that one instant. “I’m cool with the whole not drinking thing but respecting your body? Is that really a thing when there is literally a fast-food joint on every corner? I mean I am all for self-love and stuff but keep your greens and I will keep my fats.” Tristan responded to the man dressed as Santa. “Tristan your bitterness over no Christmas date is starting to show, maybe you should hitch a ride to L.A. before it’s too late and spend Christmas with that god-awful family of yours.” Anya suggested to the male slayer. “I’d gladly tend to the bar for you…if I’m payed Christmas wages of course.” “No thank you,” Tristan scoffed, not willing to trust Anya, nor willing to go anywhere, especially not on Christmas. “I mean I know this place is just a dive bar and everything, but I would not trust you to take care of my stakes never mind my bar, and everything’s a stake if it’s wooden and you get creative…”

After spending his day shift watching Anya making out with the sexy Santa she brought to Rogues, and the night shift serving demon after demon, creature after creature, and the odd human who were very odd indeed, Tristan shut down the bar for another night before putting himself to bed once again, falling into a deep sleep, hoping the future was further away than what it would be…as before long he found himself awakening on the cold hard ground of his own grave. “Well this is definitely a little too much melancholy for even me…” He mumbled to himself as he stood up from the ground and walked off his grave, looking around the San Francisco cemetery, confused by how he got there. “Down here big guy!” Sid instructed the slayer, forcing Tristan to look below to find the living puppet stood in front of him. “In case you’ve not quite caught up on all of this, yet I am your ghost of Christmas future.” “I figured that much but why take to me to where Buffy buried me before the whole coming back to life via some powers that be meddling?” Tristan replied to the puppet man, made of wood. “Well where else were they going to stick your lifeless body the next time around?” Sid answered him. “They never got round to getting rid of the grave, not that they needed too considering you wound up back in it before long.” “What did I die of a severe lack of Christmas cheer?” Tristan joked, unaffected so far by this spiritual visit. “Or maybe a vampire staked me with a candy cane, the amount I’ve staked seems kind of poetic actually…” “Nope, after you went back to the bad way of life much to no-one’s surprise your mum Buffy stepped up and killed you…if memory serves right you were stabbed to death with way too many wounds for it not to be a little…you know…fun for her.” Sid revealed to the slayer. “But after all the work they put in saving you just for you to go back to being a bastard who would blame her…” “So, I go back evil? I wouldn’t do that…not after everything…” Tristan dismissed his claims, all while fearing Sid was telling the truth. “Yep, that’s what you thought too but after continuously pushing away the parents, then Faith, and even Anya got sick of you…well after all that you had nobody and before long you were back budding it up with Drusilla acting as if you did not know she and Dante killed your parents…or maybe you just really did not care anymore.” Sid continued to explain to a stunned Tristan. “I mean how are you supposed to be human when you haven’t bonded with any since you started playing with monsters.” “That’s not true!” Tristan snapped at the ghost of Christmas future. “I care about Faith she has never given up on me, and I care about Buffy and Angel, I mean sure the parents thing is a little complicated but I do care about them…and I cared about Mandi, Lucas, and the parents that raised me.” “If you really care about all these people, the ones who aren’t dead yet then why are you treating them like they are already gone?” Sid asked Tristan, already knowing the slayer’s answer. “Because you fear one day you might end up caring too much and losing them which will happen as nobody lives forever, thing is…if you don’t care, lose, get hurt, and let your heart break, then you’re not really human as much as it sucks, we got to feel the bad as well as the good because nothing is more dangerous than becoming numb to it all.” Tristan wanted to argue back with the man trapped within the dummy, wanting to prove him wrong, but Sid’s words were wiser than Tristan would like to admit, and even if he was not a fan of Christmas itself he was certainly a fan of those who did care about it, those who wanted to spend it with him and before long he started to realize that he had made a huge mistake by trying to skip Christmas….

As Tristan woke up in his bed within his room on Christmas Day, he was immediately met with guilt as he realized he had missed out on a chance to bond with his friends, his family, and potential loved ones. He was not suddenly a fan of Christmas itself, that would take some time, but he began to remember its message and how important it was for people, how important it once was for him, and as he climbed out of his bed, rising onto his feet, and walked over to his window to see the back alleyway, in between his building and several others, was covered in snow, as snow continued to fall from the sky, and for a moment, just a moment, he even considered opening that window and yelling Merry Christmas. Instead, he chose to get changed and then call up those who would answer to him, so he could wish them a Merry Christmas and admit to his regrets of not being with them on this special occasion but after he had got changed, and walked into the living room of his apartment, he quickly realized he had no calls to make as his living room was decked to the halls with Christmas decorations, including a fully decorated tree, as his mother Buffy Summers, his father Angel, his aunt Dawn, her man Xander, and their daughter Joyce, stood beside his friend Faith, the vampire Spike, his mother’s best friend Willow and the retired watcher Giles…all of them ready to spend Christmas with him whether he wanted to or not…but luckily for him he was more than ready to celebrate Christmas with them all.

Have a truly twisted Christmas that only torments you in the more joyous ways and a happy new year, a year which will hopefully be less chaotic than 2020, keep slaying slayerettes.

[chicagocityofclans]

Minsky Edison → Charles Michael Davis → Witch

→ Basic Information 

Age: 1268

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight 

Powers: Neuromancy

Birthday: October 30th 

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio 

Religion: Buddhist 

→ His Personality

Minsky is approachable and friendly, able to easily bond and make friends with everyone, despite their species. He is courageous and an easily excitable individual. He has a great passion for his work and a tendency to ramble off when describing his findings or hypotheses as a Neuromancer and Council member. Minsky takes his role as a Council member and mentor seriously. He enforces the rules the Council made without fail. Although, Minsky also genuinely care for his mentees and friends, willing to find loopholes or help them plead their cases. He likes to have fun and enjoys being a witch; he takes pride in who he is. Over the years Minsky has gained great leadership skills, his intelligence goes beyond his powers, and his altruistic nature has him ready to go and save a complete stranger at the bat of an eye. None of this which curb his competitive streaks. Minsky enjoys flaunting around his knowledge.

Possibly because of his lack of paternal care growing up, Minsky has a strong parental instinct towards his biological kids and those he gained during his marriage. After losing his only biological son, Minsky's attitude become quiet and subdued, at the same time angry and upset, having lost his child due to an inheritance on his part and a failed marriage.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Mentor and Shield Master   

Scars: None

Tattoos: Multiple

Two Likes: Beautiful Surroundings and Privacy

Two Dislikes: Slackers and Shallow Relationships

Two Fears: Being forgotten and Becoming a ghost

Two Hobbies: Tai Chi and Collecting/Listening to Vinyls

Three Positive Traits: Romantic, Altruistic, Joyful

Three Negative Traits: Know-it-all, Over-confident, Strict (Teaching)

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Darna (Mother): Minsky has a difficult time remembering his mother, her face, and his previous name and last name. However the word Darna is clearly imprinted in his mind. He remembered feeling fondness for his mother, and thinking of her those nights after leaving for sea.  

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

Lee Cyto Rinker Jr (Step Son): Kudzai's oldest son who is 1018 years old. Kudzai has a strained relationship with her eldest due to how similar he is to his father. Minsky has tried to be as available to him as possible, and they have formed a cautious friendship. Kudzai has a habit of being exceedingly hard on her offspring, and Lee is no exception. 

Cristae Zephyr Rinker (Step Daughter): Kudzai's oldest daughter who is 980 years old and responsible for the no-offspring mentoring rule. Minsky gets along with Cristae the least of his step children, but he makes an effort to reach out on important days. 

Krebs Jay Rinker (Step Son): Kudzai's middle son who is 364 years old. He is Kudzai and James Thomas' son. Kerbs is Kudzai's least favorite child but Minsky mainly thinks he needs direction. Something he is well aware Kudzai couldn’t give him, for the sake of her own sanity. He found him a job and mentor in Seoul,  and heard he’s doing well in his Master levels. 

Hondria Edison Rinker (Daughter): Kudzai and Minsky's only daughter who is 119 years old. She is a talented Projector and was trained by Minsky himself. Despite his advanced age, Hondria was the first child Minsky ever had. He considered himself too much of a risk to have many close personal connections. He could die at any point, and thought he may be better remembered as a leader and mentor, rather than a father. When he held her for the first time however, everything made sense. He could leave as much of his knowledge in the world as possible, but Hondria and Kudzai and their family was his legacy. He vowed to her when she went to sleep the first night that he would be there as long as he possibly could for her. They are still incredibly close and it broke his heart when she left for her advanced levels. He teleports to see her often, but it’s not what he’d imagined all those centuries ago.

Jamie Edison Rinker (Son): Kudzai and Minsky’s youngest son died in his sleep at the age of 17. They came into Jamie’s birth so confident, much more than Hondria’s, assuming he’d be a mental or maybe another biokinetic. When they discovered he was like his father, it suddenly felt like Jamie had been placed into a box with a bomb in it and any movement would set it off. Both Kudzai and Minsky attempted to go on like things were normal. Jamie was energetic and brilliant; the light of his mother’s eye. And Minsky began to see the box and the bomb go away and suddenly a glimmer of hope swelled in him. If it was genetic, and Minsky had been alive for over a millenia who's to say Jamie wouldn’t share the same fate? He still remembers the day Kudzai found him in bed, having died in his sleep. It destroyed him to his core. He prayed that day and so many others afterwards to just switch him for Jamie. He’d had the life he was meant to have; Jaime’s was cut too short. Minsky and Kudzai separated shortly there after; neither one able to forgive Minsky for his part in it.

Romantic Connections:

Kudzai Rinker (Separated Wife/Woman he loves): Minsky believes himself too old to buy into the idea of soul mates, but there is something that has pulled Minsky and Kudzai towards one another for centuries. Too many chances of being in the same place at the same time; too many opportunities to go back to one another. Minsky has never loved anyone the way he loves Kudzai. Her brilliance, and snark, and steadfast beliefs; everything makes her who she is. Losing Jaime devastated them and there was no way either of them could heal together, but Minsky thinks there may be a spark left for them somewhere. A real shot, not just a brief reconnection when the world becomes too lonely. He’ll wait until the end of his days for that woman.  

Platonic Connections:

Fiona Kekoa (Mentee): She is only 21 years old, but Minsky is training her in case he dies before they turn 50. She has taken extensive notes on his routines and processes so she may keep his work going if he dies.

Catherine Barr (Mentee): Despite Cat’s beliefs, Minsky completely understands what it’s like to lose a child. However, that’s no excuse to unravel different universes. He’s willing to be sympathetic, but if he finds anything more concrete in her head, he will not hesitate to bring her in front of the council for judgement. 

Nikita Platt (Mentee): Minsky finds Nikita refreshingly genuine, especially for a Mnemokinetic. He could see it in her mind, well before she turned 50 and was glad to offer her a spot under his tutelage. Her memory acting up so much already concerns Minsky, but he is willing to assist her with whatever she needs to grow her power. He has already purchased a tracking kit to help her keep track of her keys and phone, and is trying to get her into the habit of putting appointments into her phone so she doesn’t forget them. 

Simon Lee Weyden (Future Mentee): Given that he is still alive for Simon’s next level, Minsky has agreed to take him on. He has potential, and unlike many mentors he isn’t prejudiced against Tantric Manipulators.

Rhiannon Draga (Council Member): Minsky has a lot of respect for Rhiannon and considers her a close friend. He is glad she finally found her happiness with Fallon, Alucard, and Vladimir. Before, he often wondered if the melancholia may over take her. Fortunately, he was proven wrong and happily saw her wedding and met her children. 

Ronan Cleirigh (Council Member): Minsky and Ronan have been friends for a long time. They can both shimmy in and out of each other's shields, making it easier for Minsky to trust Ronan more than their peers. Their friendship has been a little hard on Minsky as of lately, knowing Ronan hates Kudzai with a passion.

Jace Cicero (Council Member): Jace and Minsky often agree with one another when it comes to council decisions. They tend to keep their cool even when more fiery members of Council do not. The only thing they do not agree upon is Jace’s dating of his mentee, Cat. Minsky is concerned that if Cat needs to be put on trial for any illegal use of her power, that Jace may be swayed by whatever feelings he has for her.

Eric Lasiter (Best Friend): Minsky often finds a weight being lifted off of his shoulders whenever Eric is around. Eric's energy and mind sings to Minsky like fairy tales of muses. Eric was a huge help when Minsky lost Jamie and separated with Kudzai. While they might not be the best at time management when it comes to getting together but when it happens, time seems to melt around them.

Averill Sookram (Ally): Minsky exonerated Averill for a crime by looking through his mind. Minsky has been on Averill’s side for centuries. His exoneration created one of the worst fights between him and Kudzai in the past 3 centuries, but he wasn’t willing to let an innocent man be punished for something he didn’t do. 

Sydney ‘Sid’ Velanica (Distant In Law): Minsky is more accepting of those with the Rinker mark than his wife, Kudzai. Minksy never doubted Sidney and even offered to mentor him before Sid chose Jia. Minsky supports Sid's relationship with Sada.

Sol Alfaro (Old Friend): Minsky can honestly say that he has never been friends with an animal shifter until Sol. Sol has lost his wife and went down a dark path of turning to magic to fix the problem. Having seen a lot of death in his time. Minsky advised him against using magic or contacting a necromancer, as a replacement of dealing with his loss. At first, Sol did not take it well but Minsky somehow kept finding him and offering his guidance and friendship. It's been nearly 150 years and they still keep in contact.

Tristan Lawton (Acquaintance): Kudzai has recently informed the Council that one of her mentees may have been misplaced as a Biokinetic. Kudzai is unsure about him being a Biokinetic and believes he may be something else or something new entirely. Minsky and Ronan have been doing research to try and help figure it out before Tristan can do more damage in the wrong field.

Hostile Connections:

None

Pets:

None

→ History (paragraph(s) on background) → The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

[knifeshoeoreofight]

 Part 1   Part 2

He doesn’t see their visitor again until the next morning, estate business monopolizing his time until then.

When he steps into the kitchen, the man is sitting upright in a chair, wrapped in a blanket. He is giving a soft, amused smile to little Isabella Hornqvist, the blacksmith’s daughter, who is prattling happily away on his knee. Her mother sits in the chair across from them, smiling indulgently as she helps the kitchen maid peel turnips.

It is a charming scene, and Sidney stands in the doorway for a long moment, just watching. Isabella pokes at the man’s face, making him laugh and pretend to snap at her fingers like a dog. She bursts into a fit of giggles.

“My lord!” Mrs. Hornqvist greets him and makes as if to rise. He motions at her to keep her chair, and leans against the mantle instead, smiling at Isabella, who slides off of the shipwrecked man’s lap and reaches out her hands for Sidney.

“You are growing much too big for this,” Sidney pretends to complain as he picks her up. She just grins cheekily and plays with the polished buttons of his coat.

“How do you fare?” he asks the man.

“Good, Господин,” the man says, with a deferential nod of his head. Sidney finds that he doesn’t like it, somehow.

When the man raises his eyes to Sidney again, Sidney can see that he looks much improved. His cheeks have some color and his eyes are bright.

“I have been remiss,” Sidney says. “I beg your pardon. What is your name?”

“Evgeni Vladimirovich,” the man replies. “From Russia.”

“The Russian Empire?” Sidney says, surprised. “You’re an awfully long way from home.”

Evgeni shrugs. “Sailor. I’m go many places.”

Sidney marvels. He has personally never left England. And aside from his studies at Oxford and occasional trips to London, he has not even traveled very extensively in his own country.

“You must tell me of your travels, if you are willing.”

“Of course,” Evgeni says, smiling. Sidney is momentarily arrested by the sight. It lights up his entire face.

He is thankfully distracted from his impolite staring when Isabella tugs urgently at his lapel.

“What is it, poppet?” Sidney asks her.

“Kittens!” She exclaims, blue eyes wide. Her mother laughs.

“A cat had kittens in the smithy. She is very taken with them.”

“Will you take one, your lordship?” she lisps, and Sidney cannot refuse.

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Dumoulin will be glad of a kitchen cat to keep the mice out of the larder, eh Dumoulin?”

Dumoulin looks over from where he’s picking the bones from a small heap of salted pilchards.

“It’ll be sleeping on your lordship’s own bed within a week, more like.”

Sidney laughs. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Evgeni’s eyes widen, most likely at the familiarity. Then he smiles, as if he has come to a conclusion and is pleased by it.

“You know me well,” Sidney answers Dumoulin as he sets Isabella back down. He checks his pocket watch and frowns.

“I must go. I’m due at Wheal Fortitude to meet with the foreman. Good day to you all.”

Sidney is loathe to leave the comforting environs of the kitchen, and even more loathe to leave the people within them, but he has business that cannot wait.

He receives Cole from one of the stable boys, making sure to compliment the lad on the neatness of his horse’s tack. Teddy is new, sent here by his family in the village to help them make ends meet while his father is recovering from a mining injury. Sidney wants to encourage the boy.

Cole dances a little, restive and full of spirit after a day or two without exercise. Sidney collects him, settling him a little so as not to go charging down the shell drive, making gouges that the groundskeepers will have to rake out.

As soon as he passes under the main gate of Ydhyn Dhu, he gives Cole his head. It’s a chill morning, and there’s a rime of hoarfrost on the grass and bushes lining the road. The cold only seems to give the horse additional exuberance, and he flies over the frozen ground.

Sidney’s favorite stretch of road curves up along the cliffs overlooking the sea, and he pulls up on the reins just to look at it for a moment. Everything is pale grey, sea and sky both. He watched the waves break on the rocks below, and thinks again of the events of two nights past. It is as difficult as it always is to contemplate the souls lost, but he finds solace in the fact that at this moment, Evgeni is safe and well. The sea had not taken all that night.

The cheery jingling of a tinker’s cart coming up the road towards him breaks his reverie. He shakes himself. He has much to do. A visit to the mines, an afternoon call on Baroness Chu and her wife, who is out of her confinement and able to receive visitors again after the birth of her daughter. He clicks his tongue at Cole and resumes his journey.

His business goes well. The new shaft that was dug the previous summer is still producing ore at a steady pace. Kunitz, his foreman, has nothing of significance to report, which is something of a relief.

Baroness Chu and Lady Caroline receive him warmly, and after the business of land use and their mutual shipping investments has been discussed, Sidney is free to heap compliments upon the new babe, and to tell Lady Caroline how well she looks.

Both ladies glow with happiness, and theirs is an enviable situation indeed. Not many among the aristocracy, or even the gentry, can marry for love as they have.

“So tell us,” Lady Caroline implores him. “We heard that there was a dreadful wreck at Ydhyn Dhu Cove two nights hence.”

Sidney shakes his head. “A prison transport, and thus a great loss of life. Only one man we found still lived. He will make a full recovery though, God willing.”

“Was he a soldier, or one of the prisoners?” asks the Baroness, wide-eyed. Sidney hesitates. He would not wish to see Evgeni in irons once more. But the Baroness and her wife are among his most trusted and like-minded friends.

“He was a prisoner,” Sidney admits. “But in order to ascertain if there was any danger to my household, I questioned him. I believe him to have been wrongfully imprisoned. He came to the defense of a woman’s honor, and the blackguard he fell upon happened to be a peer. And so Evgeni was clapped in irons, no matter the nobility of his actions.”

The ladies share a look.

“You are sure then, Sidney,” Lady Caroline asks gently. “That this Evgeni speaks the truth? You have always looked to the good in people. It is one of your most admirable qualities, yet perhaps also the most easily exploitable.”

Sidney looks down at the teacup he holds, as though the leaves within it would provide the answers he seeks. “I came upon the man myself, Caro, insensible and pale as Death upon the sand. I would not see further harm come to a man who has already been spared a terrible fate.”

Lady Caroline reaches over to pat his arm reassuringly. “You have ever shown yourself to be a perceptive man, Sidney. If you see good in him, I am sure it is there. I know you would never willingly endanger your household.”

Sidney thinks of Evgeni this morning, being sweet with little Isabella, and hopes she is correct.

***

He returns home in the late afternoon, handing Cole off to Teddy, and letting Jake divest him of his mud-splattered boots and greatcoat.

He has correspondence to attend to, and so retires to his study. It’s one of his favorite rooms in the house, aside from the library and the kitchens. There is a large diamond-paned window facing the sea, and a fireplace with a mantel of blue and white Dutch tiles. There are two comfortable armchairs covered in green damask in front of it, and Sidney often imagines, at some nebulous future date, sitting there with a spouse of an evening. Ydhyn Dhu has far grander and more fashionably appointed rooms, but this one has always felt like the one that suited him best.

The sun at first floods the room with gold light as it sets, and then the light fades as twilight falls. A servant comes in to light the candles and lamps, and still Sidney works. There’s a faint throbbing behind his eyes, and he knows he should rest, but there is always so much to be done running an estate as he insists upon running his, and not enough time in the day to do it.

He is rubbing tiredly at his temples when there is a knock at the door. When he calls that the person may enter, he is surprised to see that it is Evgeni, carrying a supper tray. He hovers a little nervously at the door, and Sidney hurries to stand and take the tray from him. He is momentarily taken aback with the full realization of how tall Evgeni is.

“Please, sit,” Sidney says, and indicates the chair in front of his desk, as he seats himself back in his own. Evgeni does so looking apprehensive, hands folded tightly in his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Evgeni answers. Then, in a rush: “I want speak with you, Mrs. Bullano say take tray in if I’m go. Say you’re forget eat.”

Sidney smiles wryly. “It’s true, I would forget often if she didn’t keep after me. Have you eaten?” The tray contains a cold supper of bread, cheese, and ham and he makes as if to offer Evgeni his choice of it. Evgeni raises a hand in protest.

“No, no, I’m eat.” He pauses, clearly still ill at ease, as Sidney spreads butter on a slice of Dumoulin’s good bread. “Had…” He pauses, probably to try and gather his words. Sidney takes a bite of bread and cheese and waits patiently.

“You tell magistrate about me?” Evgeni blurts, and Sid recognizes the tension in his broad shoulders and the quick rise and fall of his chest as indications of actual fear. He sets down his food, all attention on Evgeni.

“No,” Sidney says decisively. “I shall not  be going to him about you at all. I took you at your word when you explained what you’d been accused of. I am not of the opinion that you deserve further punishment.”

Evgeni closes his eyes and lets out a long, slow sigh of relief. Sidney feels a pang of sympathy, mixed with something else, and doesn’t know what to do with it besides hold out the plate with slices of bread again.

“It’s really very good bread.”

Evgeni smiles. For a moment, his eyes look fond, or something very like it. “Thank you, no. I’m eat a lot, before.” He looks about him, at the paintings on the walls and the shelves of books, interspersed with some of Sid’s more treasured possessions: a painted miniature of his sister, a captain’s spyglass, a sextant.

“This is good house,” Evgeni says softly. “Servants happy. Everyone eat well.” His gaze, when it meets Sidney’s again, is dark and pensive. “Not many rich men like this, in my home.”

“I’ve always done things a little differently,” Sidney says. “There are many that think me foolish.”

Evgeni shakes his head emphatically. “ No! No, other Господин are wrong!”

His vehemence is touching to Sidney. He is well used to the sneers and gossip his eccentricity breeds among his peers when he visits London. He has long since ceased to care, but the support warms him nonetheless.

“Thank you, Evgeni, I’m honored.” He smiles at him encouragingly. Evgeni has the look of a man with yet still more to say.

“I’m want..” He starts, and looks half-sick at his audacity at telling a lord what he wants. But Sidney is not that kind of lord, and so he just nods at him to go on, and takes a sip of claret.

“Can I stay?” Evgeni says, and he leans forward a little, hands tense on his knees. “This is good place, and I’m want...to stay. Please,  мой Господин.”

“You don’t wish to return home?” Sidney asks, surprised. He’d assumed Evgeni would be impatient to return to his homeland.

Evgeni shakes his head. “For me, in Russia nothing. Never see place like this. Want to stay.” He sits up very straight. “Can work hard, not just as sailor!”

Sidney hastens to reassure him. “I have no doubt you can. And we can always find something for someone to do. I’m not in the habit of throwing those in my care out in the cold. If you had wanted to return home, I would have secured your passage on a good ship. If you want to remain here, you are most welcome to.”

Relief surges over Evgeni’s countenance. He stands, and reaches out both of his hands, almost supplicatingly. Sidney isn’t quite sure what he wants, but it becomes clear when he raises his own hand, and Evgeni takes it, and repeats the medieval, romantic gesture of fealty he’d made before, pressing his lips to Sid’s ring. Sid’s breath catches, despite himself, and this time, Evgeni hears it.

His eyes are very, very dark in the candlelight when he raises his face to look at Sidney, and his full, generous lips are parted.

They stare at one another for one long, interminable moment, before Evgeni drops Sidney’s hand as though it scalded him, and bows, before swiftly exiting the room with one last murmured “thank you, мойГосподин.”

Sidney stares at the door after he’s gone. He blinks, marveling at the reaction such a simple yet singular gesture fosters in him, and berating himself for it. It is hardly the sort of behavior to set at ease a new servant. He feels a little ashamed of himself.

No matter. It is not likely that Evgeni will feel inclined to do it again.

Part 4

[i-writeandread-blog]

Wonderland - Chapter 13

And just like that, Wonderland is back! (Y’all it survived Thanos snap after all) Geez, I missed Jared and Ali so much!! Enjoy!

I was surprised at first when Jared grabbed the bottle of brown liquor, but he was nothing if not a team player. We all loosened up rather quickly and I knew we were in for a long night.  I started shuffling the cards and looked to my two friends.  "Asshole, right?"  They nodded.

Jared's confused look was really adorable. "Jare, asshole is a game.  Let me explain the rules to you.  Girls we are going to have to ease him into this, he's a newbie and doesn't drink."  I explained the rules and how you don't want to end up being the asshole at the end of the round.  He caught on quickly and surprisingly was better at it than us three.  Especially considering we along with our group of friends had been playing it for at least five years. Darlene was not amused that she had been asshole two out of the three times we played and we all could tell from her not so subtle sighs and shrugs.  Usually when we played she would be the one doing most of the "winning."  At any rate, our hearts weren't really in it and we were getting tipsy a little too fast since we hadn't ate.

The food arrived and we were all happy to finally have something to do other than drink.  No one was speaking as we all consumed fries, burgers, pizza, and whatever else was available. We laughed a little at how much food we were devouring, then as if we all on cue thought about Nicky at the same time we started to cry. It was completely emotional in the room. I don't think we were ever going to be normal again as a group. The pain was going to be too much.

When we all seemed to be stuffed to the brim, Darlene started to shuffle the cards and set up for another game, when Jared grabbed her arm and stopped her.  The look of shock on Darlene was hysterical to me.  She was the alpha of every group.  Even her husband knew that she was the head of the household, giving in to her every desire.  "Please, don't." He said.  She looked to me and I nodded in agreement.

"Well, why the fuck not?" Dar questioned us.

"Because we are tired, we have jet lag, and we have a big day tomorrow.  Let's just call it a night and we can catch up more tomorrow. Please, Dar?"  I pleaded with her.

"Fine, but I'm breaking into MY mini bar when I get back to the room.  Thanks, Jared for the free booze. You're a doll."  She said and then leaned in and kissed his temple.  She stepped out of the room and said, "Come on Heather, we aren't wanted anymore." Heather got up and followed her to the door like a little puppy.

"Dar, that's not..." Jared stopped me. "Let them go." The door closed with a loud thud.

"Jared, I'm so sorry. I should have warned you about how crass she can be. I fear she may make me look badly. But you don't know the history or the stories behind our friendship."

"You're right, she does come off a little strong and I have to admit, I can't see how the two of you even know each other. I'd like to find out. Tell me while I clean up?" He got up and started picking up the liquor bottles and trashing them in the wastebasket.

"Okay, it's a doozy. You ready to hear some not so good things about your.... umm.... me?"

"Ali, you're my girlfriend. Just because we haven't actually said it out loud doesn't make it not true, so go ahead and call yourself that from this moment going forward, ok?"

"Alright, I guess I'll dive right in. I met Darlene at church." Jared spun around to look at me and smirked. "Yes, church, Jared. We aren't all heathens like you." He laughed, "uh huh."

"Well, it's true. We met at church. I was very active. My parents made us go as kids, but once I was older, I had the choice and I chose to still go. Silver Lake Baptist Church had a really big group of kids my age. We were teenagers. There really wasn't much to do in that po dunk town. So we went to church. It beat sitting at home.  Anyway, my cousin Lynne was always picking up strays.  Animals and people.  She has a kind heart, much kinder than mine.  One Saturday night we all met at church to go somewhere, probably bowling or skating... something along those lines, and in walks Lynne with Darlene.  I had never seen her before, but I was used to always being the center of attention.  I guess I sensed how strong of a personality Dar has and didn't want her to steal the spotlight. I immediately started picking on her.  It didn't matter to me that I was at church.  So it started with her weight, she has always been a bigger girl.  Then I found out her mom worked at the casino.  So I made some snide remark along the lines of, "my family plays the games there, we don't work them."  As if that somehow meant I was better than she was.  I don't know what got into me, but I just kept going until we were back at the church and she broke out in tears.  It was time to leave so I caught a ride with Lynne and Dar.  We dropped her off, so I knew where she stayed.  The next day feeling so guilty, I went to her house and knocked on the door, she answered and asked me in these exact words: "what the hell do you want?" I apologized and we became friends... through the years there's been a lot of ups and downs.  I've seen her go from raising her own self practically because her mom couldn't be bothered to do it, to being kicked out of her moms house because the many guys she brought over didn't like her.  I was there when she was being abused and then later when she met her husband.  She's tough on the outside because she always had to be.  She's never had it easy.  Three years ago she had a son who died of SIDS.  She's just never caught a break."  I began to cry. "As bitchy as she is, I get her. And I'm not really any different from her. I was a bitch to her in the beginning. That part of me still exists."

——————————

Ali confessed some darkness about her while I cleaned up, and it seemed to me that she has remained friends with Darlene out of guilt all these years. I felt bad. The two of them had a history, but that didn't mean they had anything in common other than the past. I didn't like that she was beating herself up.

"Ali, you're not a terrible person. You were a child. You did childish things.  Sometimes people are in our lives for a season, they fulfill their purpose and then they go.  It's okay to move on."

“I don't want to walk away from so many years of friendship with her, that would be a bad thing to do."

"Ali, you have nothing in common with her and I'm gonna be honest here, it seems like this life, the one you left behind for greener pastures was left for a reason.  These people all have issues with alcohol and drugs.  I watched Shannon spend years of his life fighting those demons.  Most times those battles can't be won.  They'll suck you down with them."

I watched her as she slowly started to realize I was right, taking in each one of my words and essentially chewing it over in her head.  I know she didn't like the idea that everyone she knew in her past growing up was essentially nothing more than just a means to her being where she was today.  They did not define her.  They could never be remotely anything as beautiful a soul as she was.  And for fucks sake, she deserved to feel better about who she was as a person.

"The girl sitting before me... excuse me, the woman... she is bright, beautiful, funny as hell, and more special than she will ever give herself credit for.  You have me now.  These people can and will move on. You are not the sum of these parts.  They aren't even a fraction of who you are.  And who you are is my girlfriend.  Say it, Ali.  Be proud.  I'm proud of you and your accomplishments.  You got this old bastard for a boyfriend.  Many tried, none came even close.  Say it, Ali."

“Uhhh"

I gave her the look.  The one that said, do it or else.

"I'm your girlfriend." She said meekly.

“No, babe.  Say it loud."

"I'M YOUR GIRLFRIEND!"

"That's right, babe.  And don't you forget that.  You're mine.  And I'm your best friend now."

I wanted to tell her right then that I was in love with her, but I knew it was too soon.  Or maybe it wasn't.  But I didn't want to press my luck.  Besides, I wasn't a complete asshole that I'd make her stop all contact with her friends from North Carolina.  She would do that on her own terms and timeline.  But she knew she had a new life going forward, and her future was going to be so bright.

In fact, my first goal was to get her writing again.  It was her dream.  And I knew she would be perfect at it just by listening to her stories.  They were all so colorful and unique.  She had a way of really getting you to feel like you were there in that moment.  I could hear her talk for hours.

“I was one of them once, you know... there wasn’t anything to do when we got older but to drink and fuck around with drugs.” Ali said so low I almost didn’t hear it.

“Oh for fucks sake, Ali. Seriously, what did I do as a teenager? I know you know.”

“Sold drugs.”

“Yes, and do I do it now? Do I drink now? Do I go and break into peoples houses now? No. People change. You have changed. How can you not see this? You changed the minute you decided your life didn’t belong here anymore. So can we concede that fact and stop beating ourselves up over bettering ourselves while others choose not to?”

She nodded and accepted that I was right. I was finally done cleaning up the mess we had all made and I was in desperate need of my “Ali cuddling session.” I walked to the bed and lowered myself into it. She followed suit. Once both of us were in bed, I reached for the remote and turned on the tv.

“What would you like to watch babe?”

“Something funny. Doesn’t matter what. You choose.”

I flipped through rapidly until I spotted Gilligan’s Island. This would be fine because I thought it would be nothing more than just background noise. Boy, was I wrong. Cute little Ali was full of surprises, yet again.

“Oh my God! I love this show. I never understood why it was Gilligan’s island and not the Professors or the Captains, or even the old rich couple. I mean if anyone had the money to buy an island it would be them, I mean I know they didn’t buy the island but still, just seemed weird he was just the skipper. And he was kinda a doof. Ginger was way prettier than Mary Anne, but I guess I can appreciate that...”

I planted my lips on her to get her to shut up. If I hadn’t she would have rambled forever, no doubt in my mind. I kissed her lustfully, and wrapped my arms around her in a huge embrace. She sighed into me. It was the first time she truly loosened up since she got here.

“I love you. My sweet, funny, adorable Ali.” The words tumbled out of my mouth.

She tore herself from my grasp. Sat right up. And stared at me as if I had three heads.

@nikkitasevoli @snewsome756 @llfd1977 @branded-with-a-j @letojokerownsme @lady-grinning-soul-k @lolainblue @msroxyblog @burritoverload @lostinletoland

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Night Light - A RokuNami Story Part 5

https://www.deviantart.com/oveliagirlhaditright/art/Night-Light-A-RokuNami-Fic-798331446  Summary: In a future, where the Master of Masters has already been dealt with by Sora-and Kairi dies once more, making Sora lose it for a while-Roxas and Naminé must now contend with the similar to Roxas, Gula, going bad.

Olette’s PoV Olette, back in the day, would have been happy to see Sora—and hey, if he was going to save her and her baby's life now, she supposed she still was somewhat—but that had been before he had lost it, and dishonored her friend's memory by bringing about a Data version of Kairi when the real one had died. ...Speaking of which, the Data version of Kairi was beside Sora now—which made Olette want to scream—but it wasn't that she was some hideous thing, or completely different from Kairi... she just didn't have her heart (or fire, for that matter. Olette didn't know Kairi as well as some of their other friends had, but she got the sense that this clone). And they were all just insulted that Sora had even thought to do this. "Leave her and the cat alone, Gula!" Sora growled, throwing a Dark Firaga spell Gula's way: which sadly said a lot about how far Sora had fallen. Olette knew a little bit about magic now... Gula dodged the Dark Firaga easily enough, extending a barrier out in front of himself for a moment. But Data Kairi got him, as she did a somersault into the air and stabbed Gula into the feet so that he was hefted into the air. …When Sora had first gone insane after the real Kairi’s death, he—via the Journal somehow—had shown everyone that Kairi had done throughout all the journeys, as this had been the only way he could make it to the next day. So from that experience, Olette knew what Data Kairi had just done, was a move the Princess had used during the Keyblade War... But it also seemed a bit stronger than what Kairi had done. And in remembering what she'd heard about Xion's existence, Olette wondered if Sora had put some of his own skills into Data Kairi, so that that girl was actually moreso a “Xion”. "I see you've made Kairi a better fighter than she ever was!" Gula hissed, seeming to believe exactly what Olette had. "So this fake Kairi is more you than the girl you claimed to love. God, Even as much as I miss Ava, I never would have thought to dishonor her memory in this way.” And Olette hadn’t gone numb a long time ago, from her heartbreak at Kairi’s death, and then the confusing feelings she got for Sora, and the truth she had found with Pence… she would have been looking at Sora accusingly here. "Sora... what is she talking about?" Data Kairi asked now. And this was such, that Olette’s heart broke. It was just too bad that this poor, broken toy had no idea that even she could never truly have Sora’s heart. But still feeling the need to somewhat try and defend Sora since he'd just saved her, Olette piped up—wondering why she was drawing attention to herself and this cat she was apparently trying to protect--"It may just be because this Kairi's made of one and zeroes, that she's gotten better at combat. Aren't computers better than all of us?" "Fair point... Olette? But I don't care about any of this, and don't have time for it. So gimme the cat!" Gula teleported to where Olette was standing and tried to scratch her face—with gloves he had adorned with claws—but Olette saw this coming and was able to dodge it. Not only that, but Olette ripped the offending glove off and scratched Gula’s face with it. Which was good, because he'd also cloned himself and had gone after Sora that way. But the pain Olette had just given the real Gula, stopped his magic and his attempt at Sora’s life. And with his sharp eyes, Sora had seen just what had happened—he looked in Olette’s direction, seeming a bit starry-eyed because of Data Kairi?—and mouthed, "Thanks, Olette!" …She only wished that she was as thankful for his own choices. It was then that Olette got an idea that she knew she'd later regret. Seeing another kitty cat walking around just now—that looked a lot like the one Gula was after—Olette let the targeted one down, and picked up cat number two (Gula was too distracted by Data Kairi doing a Magic Sword on his torso to notice) and handed it to him. Olette tried her best to act like she was just a scared mother-to-be, who wanted this all to be over with already. And Gula must have bought it, because he then left without a word. Once he was gone, Sora whirled on Olette and nearly screamed at her. It hurt Olette’s ears. "Do you realize what you just did?! You probably saved the world for a moment there, Olette, but when Gula realizes that isn't the cat he's after he'll probably killed it." "I-I know." Olette choked out, as her baby kicked in her stomach with a vengeance. So presumably, she didn't like her mommy's choice, either. "But sometimes hard choices must be made… I get that now." Roxas’ PoV There was a part of Roxas that was attracted to this "Nala" girl. What could he say? He was a guy in lion form, so of course he was feeling this way he… guessed... But he felt bad about it, like he was trying to make her a cougar in his mind, since he knew Nala had been a fully-grown lion when Sora had met her. That meant she was even older now... and married. And when Roxas found out that this actually wasn't Nala at all—but rather her daughter, Kiara, apparently?—he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. "Kiara's heart is shining," Naminé whispered in Roxas' ear, just as they (and Xion and Isa) were being properly introduced to her by Timon and Pumba on Pride Rock. "It reminds me what our hearts have looked like, ever since we fell in love." And with that shine, Roxas knew what Naminé was trying to say here: that they’d found the Princess of Heart of this world. And Roxas smiled at this news and tried to run a paw through Naminé’s hair—err, fur—affectionately. This quest hadn’t been too hard. Now they just had to get her to Master Yen Sid's, and they could go find Axel and call it a day. "But there's also... conflict in her heart, the way there was with Elsa when Sora first met her. She needs to figure out what person she's going to be. Until then, she may be a Princess of Heart and she may not be... We’ll have to wait and see, so we can't take her with us yet." As wrong as it was… there was now a furious part of Roxas that wanted to burn down the world at this (the part of him that was worried about Axel, and just wanted to be looking for him now). Why did they have to get involved in a threat to the Princesses of Heart once again? Hadn’t this cost them enough in the past? And his emotional turmoil must have been showing on his face, because Naminé swiftly indicated by a gesture of her head that Roxas should just go and separate himself from everyone until he got a handle on his feelings. So he did just that. The youth had planned to go and lay down beneath the stars—in some picturesque oasis, the way that Simba apparently once had—but before Roxas could get there, he found himself nearly getting trampled by elephants: something that was one of Roxas’ worst nightmares come to life, really. He’d watched some documentary in Twilight Town about a guy getting killed by them, when the elephants had thought he was a danger to their offspring. Ever since then, Roxas had been somewhat afraid of the creatures—and he wasn’t afraid of anything—in fearing whatever happened to Naminé, if he was ever trampled by them and couldn’t return to her. Roxas quickly dodged the elephants’ feet by moving this way and that—feeling like he was playing some intense version of DDR —but he could tell that the smart creatures didn’t really want to hurt him. They instead were singing about someone else who had betrayed them? Or someone who had once betrayed another? And if they were so up-in-arms about betrayal, it was clear that they wouldn’t consciously harm anyone themselves, then. But Roxas still couldn’t help but worry… If not for himself anymore, but for this person they, the antelopes, lions, and whoever else, were now ostracizing. In front of Roxas’ line of sight, he saw a young lion (though one who was still older than himself) moving further and further away from everyone else—as if they were making a barrier to shut him out, but Roxas knew that they weren’t. So, either all these animals were being that intimidating—and Roxas definitely thought they might have been—or the mammal was being that self-conscious. There was something about this imagery here, that reminded Roxas of when he’d used his light diamond attack on Sora over and over again: trying to push out his Other away as much as humanly possible. Because there was no way Sora could ever understand him, right? …Except that months later, Roxas had learned that that wasn’t the truth at all. Roxas didn’t know what the situation here was… but he couldn’t help thinking that maybe it could be the same, if they gave the outsider the same chance that he himself had eventually given Sora… the chance Roxas was still giving his lost brother to this day. And seeing in his peripheral vision that Naminé, Xion, and Isa were somewhere involved in this whole mess, Roxas began dashing back their way faster than he had ever moved in his life. The elephants might not have wanted to injure anyone, but Roxas wasn’t so sure about the yellow lion with the red mane in the center of all of this… he looked as though being mad might actually make him mad. So Roxas needed to be back at Pride Rock to protect his girls and surrogate father. …It was then that Roxas decided to do something he hadn’t attempted in ages, for the risk of losing his new heart that way: Roxas summoned a Corridor of Darkness and went through it so he was at Naminé and Xion’s side near instantaneously. “What’s happening?!” he called out desperately, though Roxas also tried to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t upset this red lion even more. So showing urgency, on top of being cautious, was a hard knife edge to balance on… but Roxas did just that. Naminé only smiled at Roxas sadly, as she put a paw over her heart… And given what Naminé had said about this Kiara’s heart being in love before, he thought he got what she was saying and his breath hitched in his throat… Had Kiara been separated from her love, the way Sora and Kairi always had been? “I guess… there’s some separation things with the lions going on,” Xion explained, as she flew by Roxas’ ear and then landed on his shoulder. And it was so good to have her by his side again—and just to know that she was safe—that Roxas nuzzled his head against hers and breathed as Xion did: both desperate to calm their racing breathing. “The two sets of lions are enemies, Roxas, and Kiara is in love with one on the other side of her. Simba—and yes, this red lion is the Simba Sora once told us about—gave the ‘other’ a chance. But I guess he and his friends tried to kill Simba, so now he’s banished. That’s about the gist of it.” Roxas had quite a lot to say about this—how his and Naminé’s love had been somewhat forbidden and they were perfect together, so perhaps Simba really ought to give his daughter’s interests a chance—but before he could, Simba was trotting their way in having heard Sora’s name. “Sora?!” he asked, so hopefully that it made Roxas sad for two reasons. “You know Sora? Are you his friends? I could sure use his help no-” “Yes, we are Sora’s friends. Roxas and Xion—and even somewhat Naminé here—were once a part of him… it’s hard to explain, though I suppose you could think of how you believe your past kings are always with you. I’m sure we could all aid you, if you really want us to… but if you’re looking for Sora himself,  I’m afraid to say that he’s gone crazy since the loss of his mate.” It was Isa who had filled everything in that way, of course. And while Roxas supposed it was necessary and was glad he didn’t have to do the heavy himself… he had to wonder if it was really called for, to ruin Sora in the minds of his former friends. But the idea of Sora wasn’t the only thing that was ruined here: Isa must have opted for the wrong word choice, in saying Sora and Kairi were “mates”, because Simba’s mouth worked into a firm line. And before any of the four could argue with him, or hint what they were trying to do here at all, Simba was already guessing their intentions pretty easily. “…You’re going to tell me Kiara is a Princess of Heart or something, aren’t you?! And that she has to be with her ‘mate’ Kovu to keep her light? Well, tough! I’m not letting her near him for her own safety, even if it means I have to keep this world torn in two forever!” And while Roxas wanted to believe that Simba didn’t mean that literally… he thought that he did. The darkness had gotten to him, it seemed, and he was playing right into Gula’s hands.

[zdbztumble]

Final Thoughts: KH III (Spoilers)

OK, the nice stuff’s over with.

And, in the spirit of Kingdom Hearts, here’s a menu to unceremoniously dump all the necessary information on you to follow this post:

Rave Zero

A Minor Rant

More Ranting

Botching Backwards and Forwards

But What About Kairi

Build a Better Prequel

Penultima Raving

The Positives

Now then...

Writing critiques like this is usually fun for me. I like thinking about and analyzing narratives, as mental exercise and relaxation, and because I find it helpful as a writer struggling to make fiction my profession. Finding the good and bad in a piece, understanding why something works or doesn’t, and putting myself in the shoes of a writer - particularly one in the middle of an ongoing series - improves my own craft and gives me more empathy and sympathy for creatives who come under fire.

In this case, though, I can’t say that I have much in the way of sympathy or empathy. I cannot understand how any head of story could come up with something like this and decide that it was ready for prime time. I can’t understand how writers brought in to do the actual scripting wouldn’t speak up about its issues. I can’t understand how editors, producers, and executives would sign off on this. And by “this,” I mean the finale of KH III. I haven’t loved the story turns this series has taken since the end of II, and I’ve struggled to make sense of all the convoluted turns the plot has taken, but this - or, to be specific, one moment in particular - is completely beyond my ability to understand, relate to, or tolerate.

Before getting to that one moment, though, there are other issues with this finale. One of those is the problem of paying off too large a cast: it’s almost impossible to do while giving every character a satisfying conclusion. By the time the game comes to its conclusion, most of the characters have either hit dead ends in their arcs, petered out, or been demonstrated to be entirely superfluous to this game’s plot. To wit:

- Maleficent and Pete could have been cut entirely and nothing would have been lost. Cutting them would even improve the pacing of the Olympus world slightly. Their whole goal amounts to nothing but a tease for an item that might become important in a potential future game. Luxord’s quest for a “chest,” presumably the same Black Box, has the same problem, but at least Luxord is a part of the Organization and so has some reason for being in the story.

- Ansem the Wise is ultimately on-hand just to tease more potential future events and characters, in the form of allusions to a mysterious girl who I thought might be Kairi, then thought was Xion, but is apparently some other character never before mentioned (thank you @themattress.) I bought KH III to play and know the story of KH III; if I wanted an extended trailer for a future game that may not even get made, I’d pay for one.

- Those members of the Organization who don’t defect, and who commanded quite a bit of screen time in this game (more than the damn tritagonist did) are virtually unchanged from their previous appearances, still serve as glorified henchmen, and meet largely identical ends. The attempts at pathos with them, particularly with Larxene, ring hollow, and the idea that the recompletion gimmick might let them appear again some day in a new form is...unpleasant.

- Did you really need Ienzo and Vexen both? Take either one of them out, and the other could have cooked up the necessary replicas. 

- Axel’s never-seen training with a Keyblade amounts to almost as little as Kairi’s, as he ultimately doesn’t do much but serve as an impetus for the return of Roxas and the defection of Xion. And once those two are back on the scene, they don’t have all that much to do but point their keys at whatever the group needs them to. Their presence takes us over the required number of seven, so they are quite literally unnecessary.

- Vanitas and his quest to assimilate Ven ultimately amounts to nothing, for how important it was in BbS and his continued seeking it here. He becomes just another boss battle, destined to fade away.

- Aside from filling out the full seven, Aqua and Ven don’t get all that much to do in the battle. Terra and Sora do the heavy lifting in getting Terra liberated, and by the end, Eraqus tells Terra to be the one to look out for the group. Not Aqua, the master who spent most of BbS trying to set things to right - Terra, the impulsive quasi-Anakin Skywalker who ended up possessed by the villain.

- Riku and Mickey are the exception to this, as I think carrying them through as Sora’s battle partners in the showdown with the three young Xehanorts, and giving them the bulk of the dialogue in the final cutscenes, gives them a meaningful role to play in the finale.

But since Eraqus has been mentioned...that leads us to the next problem. Because I still don’t understand how Eraqus managed to hide his heart inside of Terra’s (and yes, I have seen the BbS cutscene.) But setting aside the mechanics; the idea that Eraqus has been alive this whole time, that he can stop Xehanort with a gentle talking-to, and extending the metaphor of their chess game in their youth this far, makes everything that happens feel so much smaller. And giving Xehanort - a villain who was made, in looks and personality, more evil from BbS on - is a baffling choice. He isn’t the first villain to have a less-than-convincing redemption in this series, of course. And, were it done better, I might be more tolerant of it. But it isn’t.

And having that about-face brought about by Eraqus lessens Sora’s part in the finale. His brave venture after Xehanort, Donald and Goofy by his side, makes for a nice boss battle. It’s less impressive than the one in KH I IMO, but I do like that Donald and Goofy are with him for nearly the entire thing. The Trinity revival at the end of it is a great touch, though I would’ve preferred some sort of beam struggle to cap it off. But one of Sora’s qualities - one that this game, and DDD, loved to spell out as blatantly as possible - is his ability to reach and connect with people. Outsourcing that to another character, leaving Sora as the brute force in the conflict with Xehanort, leaves him and one of his most defining and positive character traits sidelined at the crucial moment. I grant you that Sora probably isn’t all that well disposed to the man who killed Kairi, but you would think he’d have some function beyond swinging his blade and holding a key.

But in the end, the apocalypse is averted, and Sora leaves his friends behind to try and save Kairi. Cue the closing cutscene, with happy endings aplenty. Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Yen Sid, Chip, and Dale get a warm welcome home in Disney Castle. Terra, Aqua, and Ven get their home back, and Ven gets his little cat thing that he apparently had once. Axel, Roxas, and Xion get their sea salt ice cream again, reunite with Hayner, Pence, and Olette, and it turns out that even Saix is on-hand (because, y’know, that bond he had with Axel was so organic and essential to pay off.) Namine is brought back (according to a recent interview, this is possible because her heart was released from Kairi’s when Kairi was killed), and Riku turns up to take her to a big party on Destiny Islands. With literally everyone on-hand, Donald is the first to notice Sora and Kairi sitting on the paopu tree together, holding hands. Kairi looks up at Sora, smiles, and starts to cry. Sora then fades away, leaving Kairi alone.

Now we’re at that moment.

I was so confused the first time I saw this scene, and watching it in the theater menu a few times didn’t help. Talking with @echidnapower about it helped me puzzle together that Sora must have paid the price for abusing the Power of Waking. It was hard to track those warnings amidst all the other pretentious monologuing and schoolyard taunting that the Organization did, and amidst all the other plot threads in this game - but, fair enough. That was some clear foreshadowing. And, just like with Kairi’s death, I can’t object to the idea out of hand. KH I ended on a shocking bittersweet note, after all. Ending the Xehanort saga, and possibly the series, with the main character failing to heed all warnings and losing his own life while managing to save the person he cares most about, is a bold idea. Pulled off properly, I’d be in tears while writing my review, but I’d be applauding the guts and skill of the creative team.

But is Sora’s quest to find Kairi made into a final stage, or even a cutscene? No. Is his final misuse of the Power of Waking shown? No. Is it even clear whether Kairi reappeared at the same time as Sora, or if she’d been there on the beach with everyone else before he turned up? No. And is any of this, in any way, made a central element of the final scene? No. The possibly permanent death of our protagonist, caused by his final solo quest to save Kairi, is such an afterthought at the end that not a single aspect of the journey to that moment merits any screen time.

And don’t tell me that this might be something covered in the DLC, or that it could be setting up for another game. If they wanted to leave Sora and Kairi’s fate more open-ended, and a potential hook into a future game, they should have been left out of the final scene altogether. The Power of Waking, Sora’s shaky control of it, and its dangers were meant to be relevant to this story. Sora and Kairi’s bond being stretched to the point that one or both of them could permanently die was meant to be a major factor in this story. I’m all for leaving certain things off-screen, open-ended, or open to interpretation, but if anything should merit some degree of resolution within this game itself, to say nothing of a goddamn cutscene, it’s the potentially final fate of our fucking hero.

It feels like such an afterthought that I’m forced to wonder why Sora was ever retained as the protagonist past KH II.  One solution to the current crop of issues with Kingdom Hearts, as I’ve already gone into, would have been to simplify; fewer titles between console releases and a much less convoluted story that stayed focused on the actual leads. But it’s almost impossible not to come away from the post-II games feeling that most of the staff’s passion has drifted to other characters and elements. Axel, Roxas, and Xion; Terra, Aqua, and Ven; all the convoluted plotting and betraying and cryptic messages of Organization XIII; and now all this X business; it seems clear that that’s where the focus is now. Square Enix is no stranger to cyclic and anthology series; there was more than enough precedent to retire Sora and friends and continue Kingdom Hearts with new protagonists. Those who enjoy all these elements could have them unadulterated, and those of us who prefer Sora’s story could be content with three great games. Hell, Kingdom Hearts as a whole could’ve been retired at II, with the characters and elements most favored forming the foundation for an original series; the staff still seems jazzed to cross over with Disney, but they’ve become increasingly unable to meaningfully connect those worlds to the larger story, excepting a handful of characters from Disney Castle. An original series wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Instead, an ultimately untenable path was trod, trying to keep all of these things to play, the ultimate price being a final game to the saga that leaves every single storyline feeling less than it could be. Kairi may get the worst of it blow by blow, but I would say that Sora - the protagonist - is the second-worst hit, and that I cannot comprehend as a writer.

When I first got the feeling that something bad might happen to either Sora or Kairi, or both, I was prepared to be sad at the end of this game, but I expected to be sad the same way I was at the end of KH I - in an ultimately positive way, having been sincerely and surprisingly moved by a story I came to love. At the end of KH III, I’m sad in another way entirely; I’m sad because I feel nearly all my enthusiasm for this series evaporated along with Sora. I was planning to buy copies of I, CoM, and II to replace the ones I had to sell years ago; if I end up doing that when I have the money, it’ll be as an effort to get back to what first charmed me about the series.

Hopefully, I can still find that charm there, but I don’t know what would make me excited for future releases. What reason do I have to hope that the flaws of the recent games, culminating in III, will be corrected or even recognized as flaws? The Epilogue and Secret Movie certainly don’t give any hope. For all the talk about III being the finale to the Dark Seeker saga, the convoluted Keyblade War lore it spawned and at least one of its more annoying characters seem set to continue on. The Nameless Star and that girl alluded to by Ansem (who I hope for simplicity's sake are the same person) represent yet another new character shoved into the mix. And the Secret Movie may give some people hope for Sora, but it just left me numb.

I’ll go ahead and predict what the next game of the series, if there is one, will be, based on those two scenes: either the game is ostensibly about what Sora went through to save Kairi, with a retcon pulled to suck Riku into the mix; or, it’s set after the final scene of KH III, with Riku - not Kairi, but Riku - going in search of Sora. Either way, in practice the game’s plot will be taken up by a mess of a plot concerning the Black Box and/or the Book of Prophecies and all that crap from Kingdom Hearts X: Back Cover (a movie I could not bring myself to finish, I was so bored), all the while taking any chance it can get to salvage as much of the aborted Final Fantasy Versus XIII as possible. Kairi will be lucky to get a cameo, the Disney worlds will barely have any relevance, Maleficent will get elbowed off to the sides, and if Sora comes back to life and remains the hero, he’ll still be relegated to a spectator and an afterthought to make room for all the things that the team really cares about.

Cynical, you say? Bitter, perhaps? You’re not wrong. And I’d love for another Kingdom Hearts game to come out and make me eat crow. But for whatever joy Kingdom Hearts III brought me as a game, it’s been a truly painful experience as a story. With no pleasure, I can honestly say that in terms of a failed narrative; in terms of completely missing the mark on where the focus should lie; and in terms of feeling like an almost deliberate insult or dismissal of what made these characters and this series wonderful to begin with; no narrative with the Disney name on it, or perhaps at all, has left me so upset since Maleficent. And for me to be saying that, is saying something.

[barnes-dameron]

No Mistake, Just a Happy Accident (Ch. 4)

*not my gif*

Poe Dameron x reader (Jane the Virgin AU)

Summary: Your life couldn’t be more on track. You’re on track to graduate from college, you had an amazing relationship with your mom and grandma, and you had an even better relationship with your boyfriend of two years, Finn. It couldn’t be better. But after a medical malfunction, you find yourself pregnant with another man’s child; and that other man is your boss, Poe Dameron. You’re life gets turned up side down when this happens, but you try your best to look on the bright side.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Got caught up and loved Jane the Virgin, and I thought this would be interesting with Poe. Changed the story up a bit, but I’m excited. My first series and story!

It was another late night at the office. Poe stayed up all night, looking over spread sheets and graphs on how the restaurant was progressing. His father, Kes Dameron, suggested branching out a couple of months ago, but Poe thought it should wait. Now it didn’t seem like a bad idea. Calculating and finding a good location was tough, as well as handling the finances. Sure there were accountants for that, but there were certain things he liked to take care of in his own hands. 

It was past midnight when he heard his phone vibrate, snapping him out of his drowsiness temporarily. He groggily picked it up to see who it was, he really didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now. His mind then suddenly changed when he saw who it was...Y/N. He read the text over and over again. 

know it’s late, but I thought I should let you know… I decided I’m going to have the baby. 

She’s going to have the baby. His baby. He’s finally going to have his chance of being a father. A wave of warmth and a sudden burst of energy swept through him. Forget those damn sheets and graphs, he’s going to be a father! He couldn’t help but smile. Just then a knock interrupted his thoughts, causing his head to turn to the door. Jessika Pava emerged from behind the door, smiling shyly at her boyfriend. 

Poe’s face didn’t stop smiling when she entered. In fact he couldn’t wait to tell her the news. Poe and Jess have been dating for almost three years now, going through ups and downs. They’ve met when they were in the flight academy together, being in the same squadron but one thing led to another and now here they are. Jess worked part time in the restaurant, organizing events to bring in big business. She stuck with him through his accident, helping him to recover and to get his life back together. She was great. The day she came to him asking about their future and a baby, how can he say no? The medical mistake was a little damper on their relationship, but maybe the news could brighten it up. 

Jess walked over and plopped herself on the leather couch. Poe walked away from his desk, and leaned on the arm rest of the couch, his smile never fading. 

“Why are you up so late?” Jess asked, perking an eyebrow at him.  

“Just looking over some things...” he said, biting his lip a bit. 

Jess groaned and run her hands over her eyes.

“I know that move,” she said, not moving from her position. “Tempting but it’s way too late and I’m way too tired.” 

Poe let out a soft laugh, and sat himself next to his girlfriend. He brought her hands away from her face, holding one of them as they sat side by side. 

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Poe said. “But I do have something to tell you.”

Jess sat up a bit straighter, looking into Poe’s eyes. 

“Y/N got back to me about the baby,” he said, smirking a bit. “And she said she’s going to have the baby.”

Jess’s eyes grew wider and her grip on Poe’s hand tightened. 

“Poe that’s great,” she exclaimed. “Is she going to give it to us?’

Poe’s smile disappeared. He never really thought of it. He assumed that she would, after hearing about what she said that her boyfriend wanted a fresh start with kids. He looked away from Jess, staring out the window. He always liked his view, he never got tired of it. Jess tapped lightly on his hand, and got up from her place on the couch. Poe kept his gaze out the window, deep in thought, causing Jess to sigh. 

“Well,” she said at last, hopefully to diffuse the silence. “Hopefully she’ll come around.”

Jess left the room, leaving Poe with his thoughts. Hopefully she will come around. Hopefully she won’t hold anything against him from their meeting five years ago. The meeting he held in the back of his head for years, and never realizing that she worked for him. The meeting that haunt him for years, back when he was a douche. To this day, he still felt like a dick. 

It was a warm summer day in June when Poe was still in the flight academy. He just finished a couple rounds of flying, attempting barrel rolls only to be scolded by his flight general. She was tough on him, but hey, what can you say about Leia Organa. He was taking a break, and his midday appetite got the best of him. It was a Sunday, usually restaurants at the air station were closed after two since nobody really came along. It was a Sunday after all. Looking through various windows of various restaurants, only to find the chairs on the tables and the lights off. Damn, he thought to himself, if I owned a restaurant I would have it open 24/7. Little did he know. 

When approaching his last option, a restaurant called Free Lance, he saw a young woman just flipping the sign to read closed. Poe, being Poe, was stubborn. He approached the glass door and looked at the young woman. She was beautiful. Hair fell out of her bun, framing her face and bringing out her features. Her bright y/e/c eyes stared back at his dark ones. If he was going to get a meal, he needed to put the charm on not that he didn’t mind. He looked at her, giving her a slight smoulder. She smiled. That smile had him in cloud 9 for a bit. He pointed at the locked door handle, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes playfully and gave out a soft laugh, how he wished the glass wasn’t there so he could hear it. 

She opened the door for him, and made him a meal, a grilled cheese sandwich. Not what he expected but after taking a bite, he practically melted in the pleasant surprise. He stopped her when she was about to head back to the kitchen, and invited her to join him. Poe never really liked being totally alone, especially when there was a beautiful woman near. She sat across from him, and they talked. He couldn’t remember how long, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want it to end. 

He asked questions about her life to which she answered, and the other way around. It was one of those conversations that lasted forever. One of those conversations that seemed like the world stopped spinning and time was frozen, leaving two people to be with each other for eternity. Everything Poe wanted was in that conversation. It wasn’t until he asked her a question and after hearing her answer, Poe told her to be brave. Be brave with her life. Be brave with her choices. 

In that moment, he decided to be brave as well. He leaned forward, slowly, hoping that she would do the same. She did. They met in the middle, both wanting this kiss. It wasn’t like the other kisses Poe shared with other women, the heated and desperate ones. No, this was a sweet and loving one. His heart was full of affection for the woman. He didn’t want it to end, but there was a thing called oxygen that he needed in order for himself to be alive for the gorgeous specimen in front of him. Eventually they parted. They parted their kiss. They parted ways, but only after he got her number. He smiled at her scribbled hand writing on a napkin with her name, Y/N. He never heard a more beautiful sound than that. He left the restaurant and the air station, hoping that their paths would cross again. 

But not like this, he thought to himself. He wanted to call her. He meant to call her. But life got in his way and she became a memory. A fantasy really, he would look back at it when lying awake at night and wonder what would happen if he did call her. But that was the past, he had Jess and she had a boyfriend. Five years ago he wished for their paths to cross again... well it was granted. She was pregnant with his baby. Not what he expected and not the best time, but it still happened. He got what he wanted, but things were different from what they were five years ago.

He glanced down at his watch to get the time. 2:45 a.m. Jess left a little over a half an hour ago, leaving the duration of the time him reminiscing the past. He shouldn’t talk to Y/N at this ungodly hour. He’ll talk to her in the morning, or when she comes into work. He couldn’t help but smile when thinking of her. Not his baby, at the moment, just her.

Saying Finn was tired was an understatement. He was more like exhausted. Doing an all night stake out on an apartment was tiring, and drained the life out of him. It was about 2 in the morning, so by that, he was watching the un-moving apartment for 4 hours now. He hated these kinds of jobs but it was the overall case that intrigued him.

The First Order is an underground gang that somewhat ruled the town, making most citizens feel uneasy. After crimes and tips, the police decided to get involve and take the First Order down. Finn was one of the lead detectives in the case. He was undercover in the First Order for a while, until he was compromised by one of the lead members, Phasma, was the name.

He was staking out in order to find a person, someone that might be a member of the First Order. Any connection to the oppressor gang might be a potential lead in order to find the leader. If Finn could break this case, who knows where his success will take him. He’d probably grow famous and earn a generous pay raise. Of course he would use that money to put a down payment on a bigger house for him and Y/N.

Speaking of which, he looked down at his phone to admire the lock screen. It was his favorite picture. It was him with Y/N at a dinner party for a fellow coworker. He was holding her close by his side, her hand resting on his chest. She looked beautiful. Her hair styled and flawless, her smile bright, and her eyes sparkling. She was wearing his favorite dress on her, the one that hugged her curves and made her look more stunning. Sometimes Finn wondered how he ever got her. His phone vibrated in his hand, revealing a message from Y/N.

It was 2 in the morning, why was she up? Finn unlocked his phone and stared at the message. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

I know it’s late, but I thought I should let you know… I decided I’m going to have the baby.

He knew he couldn’t stop her. He knew it was her decision. But his efforts to change her mind were useless. She was stubborn, but it was a flaw that he admired. What was she going to do? Was she going to keep it? Is she going to give it to her boss? If she were to keep it, would he make a good father? Was she ready? Was he ready?

Movement in the apartment snapped Finn out of his thoughts. He looked through the binoculars and observed what was going on. The man Terrmin “Snap” Wexley entered his apartment, illuminating the room, giving Finn a clear look at the place. He got his camera and began to take pictures. He observed as Snap moved around the room, lighting a candle here and there. Every new movement, Finn took a picture.

Finn watched as Snap crossed the room, letting in a woman. Finn took pictures of her too. Maybe she was also part of the First Order. The woman was making her way to the couch against the wall when Snap grabbed her wrist and pulled her to his chest. Finn took a deep breath. Was he going to hurt her? Was he going to kill her? Finn wanted to go to the apartment, and arrest the man. But he was a cop, so he knew that Snap was innocent until proven guilty. He wanted dirt on Snap before he can make his move.

He continued to watch, anticipating what Snap was going to do next. Snap pulled the woman to his chest and kissed her on the mouth, gripping her hips. She kissed back as well, running her hands through his hair. Without breaking, they made their way onto the couch and continued their make out session. Finn rolled his eyes, but was still a bit curious. Was she a prostitute? No, she wasn’t dressed like it or acted anyway like it. It was probably a girlfriend, but Finn took pictures anyway. It was his job after all. The rest of his night was watching them. Of course there was a brief time where Finn distracted himself and avoided the open window. Snap and his girl were getting frisky, and Finn seriously didn’t want to watch that. His thoughts returned to Y/N and the baby. What was he going to do? He hoped that she would give it to her boss, so they can start their lives together, just the two of them.

It was about 3 a.m. when Snap decided to turn off the lights and blow out the candles. Thank God, Finn thought to himself. All he wanted was to go home and sleep. He can figure out things with Y/N in the morning. There was time for them. But for now, he wanted to spend time with his bed.

Last night you only got about 3 hours of sleep total, not in a row unfortunately. Throughout the night you made multiple runs to the bathroom to puke your guts out. Although, between sleeping and bathroom runs, you thought a lot. About the baby, and Poe with his girlfriend who wanted it. You should give the baby to them. You can visit it every year and be a somewhat present figure in their life while freeing up time for you and Finn. It was a good plan. It could work out, you thought to yourself before you threw up again. Your mom and grandma were there to hold back your hair and soothingly rub your back. You were tempted to take the day off, but you couldn’t. Your shift wasn’t until later in the day, and you had a class to get to. 

Against the wishes of your grandma and your mom, you went to school still feeling a bit nauseated. Hopefully you can keep together for a an hour and a half class. You were almost four months away from graduation. Being the stubborn you are, you weren’t going to miss any school from there on out. 

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, you really did. You didn’t know if it was the subject your professor was teaching about or your lack of sleep, but you were bored out of your mind. You decided to take a break from listening, lifting your head up here and there to give off the impression. 

You opened a separate tab on your laptop, deciding to do a search on something, well more like someone. You didn’t know much about Poe other than that he owned D’Qar, he had a girlfriend, was a playboy, oh and he was the father of your baby. You typed his full name and entered it. What followed next shocked you. Every result held something different. There were multiple pictures of Poe at clubs with different women, a mugshot, and a pretty exposed picture of himself. 

You knew Poe was in some trouble in the past, but not this much. Your mind stirred up with different scenarios and reasons to why this was but everything came down to one thing, you can’t give this baby to him. You’re going to have to keep it. Poe couldn’t handle a kid. He was always busy with work, and with this in his past it was surely going to catch up to him. You couldn’t leave your baby to him. You began to wonder if your motherly instincts were kicking in, especially this early. 

You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You glanced at your professor, who at the moment was questioning another student, so you had some time to check your phone. It was a text from Poe. 

Can we talk after your shift? My office?

Your heart beat quickened when reading over the message again. How can you keep it together when meeting Poe after seeing that internet search? 

That’s it for chapter four! Let me know if you want to be tagged. To be continued…

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @multific @lilrockstartitan145

[leonawriter]

You know, at first it made sense, because Riku’s the more serious one of the lot, but the more I think about it, the more I consider the idea that Riku is a strict teacher - and anything like that - to be... more than a bit out of character, at least post-3D.

See, in Dream Drop Distance, Riku is Sora’s Dream Eater. This is literally what’s going on - so they’re connected. In a sense. More that they know that if they’re in a world, then the other is probably in a version of the same world as well, and they help each other out at various points, like in the Symphony of Sorcery and also in the Country of Musketeers, to name the most obvious examples.

But the relevant parts of that, are how for Riku, 3D is all about facing up to his past, and his darkness, and learning to accept himself in his entirety. That’s what he means when he later says “Consume the darkness; return it to light!”. It’s not so much ‘I no longer have any darkness inside of me’, as much as I think it is ‘I’m no longer letting these things hold me back, and if something tells me I should be negative, or that something about me is negative, then I’ll turn it around and make it positive instead’.

He learns to let loose, to not let guilt and fear overcome him, to rely on others, and... not take things so seriously.

I think it’s also really important to remember that although the methods of linking with Spirits are different between Sora and Riku, the ways they’re shown to be able to train and play with them aren’t. So it’s more canon to assume that in his downtime, Riku played catch and balloon pop and water barrel with his spirits just like Sora would have.

And to top that off, I really honestly doubt that the Spirits would even respond to anything other than playing and having fun; they grow by feeling loved, after all! They’re good, happy dreams.

But to be honest? I think the whole ‘Riku is Serious’ comes from how Riku would do all the hard work on the raft when they were kids, and complain about Sora sleeping it all away. And it comes from the guilt-ridden Riku of CoM, Days, and KH2. It comes from Riku being a more grounded person, more based in reality than the sky-based Sora or the fluid and sea-based Kairi.

But the clincher for ‘Riku is actually way happier not being all that serious about things’ comes both toward the end of 3D - Riku at first seems dubious about the Musketeers’ motto, but then says “it’s a very Sora sort of thing” and goes for it - and...

At the end of A Fragmentary Passage, Kairi notices the differences in Riku, and this exchange happens:

Kairi: Who’s this new Riku, and where’s the old one?

Riku: New me?

Kairi: Yeah! [laughs] You’re more like Sora.

Riku: Should I be flattered? [Said in an uncertain way. Kairi laughs.] I try to hard to be the role model. It’s more fun to just listen to my heart. Which is Sora-esque.

Kairi: Well, we still like you.

So... you see, Riku outright says himself that the serious, no-nonsense persona is more than it’s worth.

And saying that, it’s possibly a theme of his in 3D, because he’s the one who meets Beat in Twilight Town; a guy from TWEWY who is outright told something to the effect of ‘isn’t it hard being the tough guy all the time?’.

So, yeah! Riku’s way more likely to just go with the flow, with what his heart tells him is right. If he’s training people who are literally his friends, people who have saved his life and Sora’s in Lea’s case, and in Kairi’s case she’s someone really special to him, then... I can’t see him being that strict? 

Tbh, I think he’d probably aim at trying to find ways for everyone to learn that would suit everyone’s needs, if he was the one in charge of their training.

(Which is the other thing: Fragmentary Passage has Yen Sid say that Merlin is in charge of Lea and Kairi’s training, while Mickey and Riku head off to the Realm of Darkness to find Aqua. Riku’s... not actually in charge of training anyone, unfortunately. It’s something I think would be cool to see in future, though.)

[coffee-for-himchan]

Not On My Watch (Yongguk mafia/gang AU pt.2)

Word count: 8.2 k+

Genre/warnings: Mafia/gang AU (does contain swearing and violence, and the regular mafia stuff. This won’t really be all cute and fluffy it’s quite the opposite tbh but hey, the ending’s nice at least)

Summary: It had already happened once, and you prayed to God it wouldn’t happen again. You’d already been captured and locked up, having to serve a man you hated with a burning passion. Having to say goodbye to the outside world, and having to part from Yongguk because no one knew where you went and vanished, not being able to help you in any way. A lucky coincidence had brought you back to Yongguk, and now when the right time had come around the corner, he was more than ready to finish what had to be finished off as soon as possible. The man you feared oh so much had just appeared on the scene again, and this time Yongguk swore to take proper care of him. And make it eternal.

THIS IS PART 2 // PART 1 IS HERE

He kissed you softly, without any fear or consequence in mind. After all, if this was indeed all you both desired at that moment, why hold back if you could let utter pleasure take over your bodies instead?

Oh, yeah. Because you were far from knowing the truth, and he was afraid you’d leave if he told you.

“Yongguk-ah,” you’d barely pulled away when you spoke quietly, and he gave you a questioning hum in return, not daring to let go of you just yet. Your days in his arms were numbered anyways, and he would eventually have to let go of you, so he held on while he still could.

He’d have to let you off to wander your own path in life, one that didn’t include or feature him in any way. One that kept you far away from him, because he brought nothing but pain everywhere he went. Because you’d never be completely happy or safe by his side.

Because he was a newfound mafia leader, and you were nothing but a girl with beautiful, sad eyes, a broken past and a heart that always kept the vacancy of it’s rightful owner free just for him, and no one else. And despite all that, he couldn’t possibly have you without making you suffer, so he tried to stay back.

“I think I really like you,” your words sent shivers down his spine as he smiled a sad smile in return, taking in how utterly pleasant it was to hear something like that being said softly right to his face.

“Well, you’re the first to ever do so. No one else thinks there’s anything likable about me.”

He felt you gripping on the front of his shirt, and felt his heartbeat slightly increase. He wasn’t the buffest one. In fact, his frame looked quite skinny and fragile, but at that moment he understood how much stronger he was than you. How dependent you’d be on him if you’d ever become a permanent part of his life. How he wanted to make sure you were alright, and how he wanted to take care of you if you ever got in any type of trouble.

“Then let me do it properly, since I’m the only one smart enough to look past the facade.”

The facade. Yes, even people who didn’t know his lifestyle still feared him for the way he was. Quiet and on most occasions untalkative. Walking slowly and hanging his head down low to seemingly disappear from the masses of people he unwillingly had to sometimes encounter. His gaze was sharp and displayed danger, yet you were one of the few who was able to look past it and see who he truly was.

After all, you’d met in a quite cliché and absurd way - while saving a kitten. And if a guy like him stops on the street when he sees you frantically trying to reach something from the gutter and asks if you need any help, he can’t be the worst kind. He can’t be the worst kind if after pulling out the half-alive animal he carefully holds it in his hands, and goes with you to bring it to the right people just on time for it to survive. And what makes him the least worst of all is how he made sure to take care of it first, but not leave you out either, because you were clearly shook up after the incident, having forgotten all your plans for the day.

Because the ones who hadn’t done anything bad didn’t deserve a bad ending. Not even a kitten.

“The facade?”

“What else? You’re the nicest, most honest person I’ve ever met. And if people can’t see that, well, their loss.”

He smiled. Hearing sweet words from someone as beautiful on the inside and outside as you was such a new, unusual yet pleasant feeling. No one’s ever told him compliments. And no one’s ever blindly told him that he’s a good person.

“(Y/N)? Are you really sure about this?” his hand rose up to point in between both of you, and you didn’t hesitate even a second to give him a little positive nod.

“Good. Because I think I really like you too, and just to be sure, we should live and see,” he smiled a warm smile and sank his lips back into yours. The most pleasant feeling he’d ever felt.

* * * * *

You wandered around the base with folded up arms, holding tightly onto the sleeves of your sweater. Everyone had gone away for a while now for safety reasons, and you were left alone. Alone and unprotected, but at least in a place that could be considered a safe zone. You tried your best not to worry, yet suddenly had a bunch of doubts creeping into your head. It was your problem after all, but over time it had become Yongguk’s problem as well. And whatever was his concern, automatically became the concern of the other five members of B.A.P as well, and knowing they were all on your side made you try your best to calm down and convince yourself everything would be fine.

Yongguk’s absence was the thing that bothered you the most. Upon arriving here, he waved the other guys away and showed you around. He lead you into the room where he and Himchan stayed whenever one or both of them were sleeping here instead of home, and upon making sure you were all set up and fine for the next few hours, turned around to leave.

“Where are you going?!”

He stopped at the door, and turned around to face you. With your eyes indicating you were on the edge of tears, he couldn’t help but blame himself a little. Too bad he couldn’t stay here and serve as support.

“I’m going to see what I can do about this whole mess,” Yongguk, in fact, had no clue on where to start or what to do. All he knew was that he’d eventually have to do something. Something to make it a safe world for you again. He turned around once again, and put his hand on the doorknob, about to open the door.

“Yongguk-ah!” he heard your desperate cry, and it took only seconds to feel your body pressing lightly against his from behind, your arms finding their desired route to wrap around his waist immediately.

“Don’t go.”

He froze in his tracks, not really able to move or do anything. After all, how could he leave you if you were clenching onto him for dear life, your sobs filling up the otherwise empty room as you buried your face deeper into his shirt. You weren’t just afraid for yourself and for your future - you feared the fact he could get hurt. You wanted him to stay so he wouldn’t be able to have any harm done towards him, but your begging was of no use. He couldn’t simply stay.

“I have to go, baby,” it took him a little longer to respond, and he turned in your arms, soothingly putting one hand on your hip as the other one reached to tilt your head upwards.

Tear-strained cheeks was such a devastatingly beautiful look on you. And so were trembling lips, he figured.

“I have to go and deal with this the right way. So he won’t be able to bother you or myself ever again. So he won’t hurt you again.”

“Then can you promise me you won’t get hurt?”

Silence filled the room and he sighed. He might have lived his life not exactly the way he intended to at first, but there was still a thing he hadn’t become over the years. He was a killer. He was a former leader. But he wasn’t a liar.

You knew the answer more than well, and he did too, yet hesitation filled the air before two words quietly left his mouth.

“I can’t,” he quietly said, looking you straight in the eyes, “But I will try my best to prevent it. And the guys will always have my back.”

He had no other choice than to leave you teary-eyed and crying in the middle of the room, giving you a quick kiss before disappearing from your sight completely for a while. You heard muffled voices in the hallway and the main room, but nothing really mattered. Leaning against the door, you ran a shaky hand through your hair and exhaled loudly.

He knew what he was doing. And if he didn’t, Himchan would know. And if Himchan would know but wouldn’t be able to put it into words, Youngjae would help. If Youngjae would need time to think, Jongup would gladly and with a smile plastered all over his face help out by holding the enemy back and wrecking mad havoc. And if he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own, Junhong would join, always keeping Daehyun on distraction and backup duty.

They were a team, but not just any team - they were B.A.P. And they would manage.

Left alone and worried, you couldn’t find a way to calm yourself. They were a team, and you’d just even managed to make a little chain on how they could deal with their problems. But what if a part of the chain suddenly got decapitated? What if Jongup didn’t aim properly, or Himchan’s head would be just as empty as Yongguk’s when it came to thinking of how to handle a situation? It wouldn’t end well in that case, you were certain.

But what concerned you the most is that it was Minjae who they were about to go against. The person who’d completely wrecked your life before Yongguk came along to fix it. To fix it and fix you.

You recalled it clearly - in more detail than you’d like to. You were alone in this city, not having any close people in your life around except of Yongguk. And, being left with only him by your side, meet-ups had become a regular thing.

It was a quiet evening, and you were standing there, waiting for him. Happily shifting from one foot to the other, you looked over to your left and wandered closer to that side of the pavement, leaning over the railings and exhaling as you looked into the distance.

It was a spot he’d showed you on one of your first dates, and the most beautiful place in this city, or so you thought at least. He walked past it back then, barely paying any attention to it, but once he saw how your eyes sparkled after seeing the mesmerizing view, he told you to meet him there now every single time you went out and he wasn’t there to pick you up on his motorbike.

You still laughed at the motorbike from time to time. You’d seen his beloved scooter, and even though it was quite funny but cool and cute to some extent, he still made the efforts to come off as a cool guy, driving around on the motorbike and trying to throw away his grandpa tempo just for you instead.

There were footsteps behind you, and you were prepared for the usual. For the “hey, babe” in his melodic, low voice, for the tight hug from behind. You were more than ready for the little stolen kisses and the immediate shyness that would follow, accompanied by a gummy smile. Ready for all you’d been gifted with in the past half a year, after another half a year of awkward stares and confessions hanging on the tip of your tongues but never being said out loud beforehand.

You were ready to meet the guy you’d completely fallen in love with - your one and only, Yongguk.

“Hey, pretty face.”

Your body froze at hearing the voice, and you turned your head to see the source of it. A tall, lean figure was standing in front of you, smiling a smug smile and giving you a disgusting wink.

That wasn’t Yongguk.

“What’s such a beautiful lady doing here all by herself?” he tried to sound all charming and sweet, but his tone seemed rather disgusting to you.

“Now, now, babe. Don’t give me the silent treatment. I just want to entertain you, maybe even make you less lonely,” you’d turned your head back to face the beautiful view, and gasped as you felt his voice next to your ear and his hand on your hip, trailing to rest on your butt within seconds.

“Get away,” you said, moving sharply to the side and letting his hand slide off, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Your boyfriend, perhaps?”

“Exactly,” you hissed, feeling all alarms going off inside of you at an alarming rate. Yongguk had to be here in just a few minutes. He was never late. You just had to hold on for a little longer, and he’d be there to give this guy a piece of his mind, in a calm and reserved fashion. Because that’s who he was - a guy who was against violence, but one who knew how to swing fists if there was the absolute need to do so.

“Well looks like he’ll come around just to find you already gone.”

You weren’t able to respond when you suddenly felt his hand clasp over your mouth, drowning out all of your muffled screams for help.

“You see, sweetheart,” he cooed next to your ear, pinning your frame tightly to his, “You’re nothing but a bitch if you leave your guy for another one like this, even if he’s a much better one. But you’re lucky I have nothing against bitches.”

“Yongguk-ah, please come faster,” your mind kept screaming as you struggled against his tight grip, but were unable to get free.

“What a brave one. Still hoping for rescue?” he chuckled as you were about to try and scream out one more time, when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your neck that made tears well up in your eyes. An injection.

“Now you’ll stay silent and obey, just like you’re supposed to do,” his grip loosened, and you thought this might be your chance to run. But as you tried to move, your knees were giving out and your head felt heavy, pulling you to the ground to eventually collapse right in front of him, holding a hand at your neck and desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

“That’s right. Now let me take over, babe, and I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Yongguk was exactly on time for your date, but happened to be one minute forty three seconds too late to still catch a glimpse of you lying unconscious on the ground before the guy managed to scoop you up in his arms and flee with you from the scene, quickly making his way out through tiny, dimly lit streets where he couldn’t be spotted.

You woke up the next morning, or you supposed it was the next morning, at least. Your neck was still aching, and, as you strolled through the unfamiliar apartment, you found out you were alone.

The door was locked, and couldn’t be opened at any cost. Looking out of the window, you realized you must’ve been at least on the ninth floor, so fleeing through the window was impossible. You simply had to wait around and let faith decide.

The door creaked open only late at night, revealing a silhouette of the guy from the previous night standing in the middle of the doorway. A triumphal smirk was plastered on his face as he stepped into the bedroom just to see you curled up on bed with tear-strained cheeks.

“What a bitch. Didn’t you have a boyfriend?” he stepped forward, letting you know about his presence and chuckling as your frame jolted up with fear, scooting over to the other end of the bed.

“Didn’t mama teach you not to sleep around in other guy’s beds if you already have a boyfriend?”

He sat down beside you, eyeing you up and down. The moonlight was the only light source in the room, and it took you a while to notice he was basically dripping with blood. Blood that wasn’t his.

“Minjae is my name. I know yours already, so no need for introduction,” his hand reached for you, but stopped right before your face at the impact of your slap. He raised a brow in surprise, eyeing you up and down before smirking.

“Is this really how you feel, babe?” the word “babe” sounded so wrong when he said it, and you felt tears starting to form in your eyes at the sound of it.

“I’m not your babe. Now let me go.”

“Too bad you’re feeling this way, babe,” he said, suddenly moving and gripping a handful of your hair, yanking you towards him and making you cry out in pain.

“Because you’re going to be my babe if I order you to be. Or otherwise consider your pathetic life not worth sparing,” he tilted his head to the side, and chuckled as he saw the first tears sliding down your cheeks.

“And oh, I’ll definitely make sure you’ll give me all I need,” he said, leaning in and yanking you closer as he felt you pulling your face away, “Because, if I said so, it’s going to be that way. And now, be a good bitch and show me how little you care about your boyfriend. Be as good to me as you were to him, and I might reward you with the ability to breathe for the next 24 hours until you’ll have to prove yourself again in some way.”

He forcefully pulled you into a kiss, blocking out all of your attempts to refuse and try to break free. He was much too rough and his kiss alone hurt immensely, alongside with his tight grip that refused to let you go anywhere. He tasted like cigarettes, and smelled of blood, which almost made you gag. And, when he’d finally had his way with you, he threw you back on the bed with a force that almost made you hit your head on the bed frame, smirking down on you before he got up.

“Look at this whole mess I’ve dragged myself into, by the way. Ahh, so much blood..” he traced his hand over his jacket and showed you the red liquid sticking to it, “Be sure to clean all of this up. And don’t mess it up, this is my favorite shirt and I don’t intend to forgive any mistakes easily.”

With tears in your eyes, you had nothing left than to obey.

Days passed, and there seemed to be no way of escaping this hell you were forced to go through. Most of your days were spent on the floor crying, because you refused to climb into his bed when you weren’t forcefully made to sleep in it. You had to obey every single word, and had to do as told, otherwise he would not spare a single thought on trying to keep you alive, as that had been shown and proved on various occasions more than clearly. He’d call you all types of bad names, and would make sure he’d make you consider if life was even worth living in these conditions. He thought causing physical pain was nice practice as well, and didn’t hesitate to show you his strength whenever you did something wrong, just to afterwards seemingly “kiss the pain away”.

He drove you to considering if you were ready to live on this way forever, or if you should end it.

Yongguk kept creeping his way into your heart, and every time you were hit or were called on, you thought of him. How he’d never do this to you. How he always gave you plenty of room and plenty of time. How he didn’t make rules, and never did a bad thing to you. How he’d been so sweet and slow with all his movements, giving you kisses, stroking your sides, holding you close. Simply loving you.

He would come and save you, right?

Your head was too fucked up to function properly, and you were crying every night while thinking about it. He had to know that a horrible, violent asshole had captured you. He had to know you were held hostage and abused every day. He had to come and save you, because he always kept talking about how people who hadn’t done anything bad didn’t deserve to suffer.

It took him close to half a year to find you.

He’d been searching, crying and internally dying. Doing his best to spend all of his free time to find out where you were. Walking on until he collapsed from sleep deprivation. Making his and the member’s lives a living hell. Thinking too much until his brain refused to do the most basic tasks and his vision blurred.

He had no clue where the hell you were, or what had happened. And it was driving him insane.

You faintly remembered the events that followed. How Minjae started dragging you out of the house from time to time, because he figured it would take a toll on your nerves. Knowing you were out in the outside world and technically should be able to run, but at the same time knowing he always held a knife prepared in case you decided to disobey. It was his method of emotional torture, and it was one of those evenings you finally saw Yongguk again.

It was a quiet street corner, and Minjae had yet again thought of a way to torture your poor soul. He knew how much you hated the fact he came home bloody on most days, and he loved tracing his bloody hands over your cheeks, and shoving dozens of bloody clothed into your lap for you to wash. And now he’d finally decided to show you where all of that blood came from.

It was a moment in time. At one point you were quietly walking, and the next thing you knew there were gunshots all around and you were pulled along by Minjae to hide behind a car.

His gang was on a mission, and he’d purposefully told them to lead the enemy here. Just so you could see.

The rivals were no joke, doing better than Minjae’s people with ease. Their aim was precise, and they had Minjae cursing every time they shot someone. You’d been emotionally drained, and, as you saw the view in front of your eyes, you decided to do the only thing that could save your soul now.

You stood up, and stepped out. A shot. A shot was all it would take to gain infinite freedom. To stop the suffering. To make it end.

Or so you thought, until you noticed a pair of familiar eyes on the other end of the line, creeping out of the shadows and begging for you to get back and shield your body.

“Don’t shoot her!” his voice was surprisingly loud as he quickly yanked his frame to the front, just in time to direct Jongup’s gun away before he fired right at you.

“Yongguk-ah,” you felt tears creeping in your eyes as you saw him, standing there and looking as surprised and shocked as ever. A shaky sob and a broken smile formed on your face as you took a step to the front, and then took another one. He was there. And you were finally able to go home.

“No, (Y/N), stay where you are!” he screamed, seeing how dazed and emotionally drained you were, not listening to anyone and walking further into the scene with tragically beautiful open arms.

“Oh, she sure will,” you suddenly felt a strong, familiar grip on your hair, and cried out as Minjae yanked you back behind the car, hissing.

“Babe, why didn’t you ever tell me your boyfriend was a mafia leader? This changes quite a few things.”

A mafia leader. Disbelief was all you felt, yet you knew that was the truth, because he was right there, in front of you. Shooting and bringing violence. Proving the fact Minjae wasn’t lying this time around.

Yet you had no fear of him, and felt no disgust towards him either. His violence was directed towards people like Minjae - assholes who broke other people’s lives and made them suffer. Assholes who only wanted money and power.

His violence was directed at people who didn’t deserve to live because of the pain they had caused. And you felt no fear of him, because you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.

Minjae was losing. He, himself, might be a great shot, but not all of his men were, and this was a thing he hadn’t fully thought out.

“Withdrawal! Do you hear, idiots?!” he called, and you saw his men fleeing, and just for a moment you hoped he’d just flee too, leaving you behind. But apparently he had something else in mind.

“It’s showtime now, babe. Show him how much I matter to you.” he yanked you out from behind the car, holding you by your hair and showing you off as if you were a trophy. Your gaze was scanning all over the opposite side, searching for him. Hoping to find him looking back at you. Yet when you finally spotted him, he was looking at Minjae, his stare displaying rage and utter madness.

“Land another shot and she’ll be dead,” he said, and with the corner of your eyes you saw him raising his gun to point it at you, “Do you understand, Yongguk?”

He didn’t answer, simply staring back at Minjae instead. But it was bloody obvious he’d gotten the message by the way his muscles tensed up.

“That is, if you still want this bitch. After all, she went away with me instead of waiting for you back then, and I’ve kissed her mouth more than you can even imagine at this point. I’ve used her up like a tissue. She ain’t yours anymore.”

Suddenly, Jongup rose his gun and shot to the side, taking down one of Minjae’s men who’d stayed behind and tried to sneak up to them, about to hurt Yongguk.

“Oh, didn’t you hear what I just said I’d do?” Minjae laughed out loudly, “I think you did. So maybe I should show you what I promised would happen instead of just telling you. So you have a clear image in your head.”

A discharge of the gun, and sharp pain stung through your left shoulder. You screamed out in pain, feeling everything go white in front of your eyes for a moment until your senses came back to you, causing you to whine and flinch at the feeling of the bullet in your skin and flesh that definitely shouldn’t be there.

“Next time I’ll make sure to aim better.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Yongguk said, and waited.

Shoot.

Minjae yanked back, throwing you to the ground as he stepped back further.

“You.. When did you..?”

“While you were being a drama queen,” Junhong who’d sneaked up during the emotional show-offs said, observing the bruise in Minjae’s arm he’d just caused. Damn, he needed to get better at aiming, didn’t he?

But that wasn’t of matter. The gunfire resumed soon, and Minjae had figured you simply weren’t worth risking his own life for. Withdrawing with the rest of his men that were still there, he left the scene and left you crying and bleeding on the ground. He left you to be, stating clear that you seemed rather like an used up tisue than a worthy human being to him. And if a scum like him didn’t want you, who would instead? You were left crying.

Until you were met with Yongguk’s loving embrace.

“Yongguk-ah.. Y-You’re h-here,” you looked at him in disbelief as he held your shaking frame close to his, placing soft kisses all over your face, indicating all would be fine from now on.

“I-I thought I’d never s-see you again, and.. Yongguk-ah, I was so a-afraid,” you whispered, obeying him as he gently put a hand at the back of your head and let you bury your face in his chest.

“What happened back then?” he calmly asked, his voice sounding so close to your ear it made you tear up even more. Just like in your past time dreams. He was finally here.

“I.. I was waiting for you, and.. A-and then h-he came and s-simply started hitting on m-me, and c-captured me after I said I w-was waiting for someone. And t-then I f-fell unconscious, and he took me away to his place..”

“Did he do anything to you?” Yongguk heard a faint “Yongguk hyung, we have to leave! I can already hear the sirens!” in the distance, but an “oww!” followed soon, and he knew Himchan had probably kicked Daehyun for calling out like that at the completely wrong moment.

“H-he hurt me,” Yongguk felt his heart clenching at that sentence, and his hand stroked up and down your side as he listened.

“He called me a b-bitch. H-he hit me when I didn’t do something right. He slammed me against walls. Yongguk-ah, h-he made me k-kiss him and I.. I r-really tried to resist, I really d-did. B-but he was so m-much stronger than m-me, and if Iresisted h-he’d simply hurt me more…”

You broke into another round of shaky sobs as he held you close, burying his face in your hair and trying to stop you from shaking so much.

“How much does your shoulder hurt?”

“B-badly,” you managed to get out, just for him to gently make you pull away from his chest and look at his face instead.

“Let’s go so I can take care of you,” he told you calmly, looking into your eyes and gently pushing you to sit on the ground. Before you could stand up, he scooped you up in his arms and started carrying you away from the scene and to where the guys were already heading to.

“We’ll fix you up, okay?” he softly spoke, making you nod against his chest, “It will hurt less when it’s cleansed and bandaged.”

“I’ll take you to our base first, and you can stay there for as long as you want to,” he said, careful with his words because of what you just had to witness, “I know you probably think I’m no better than him right now. He’s a gang leader, and, despite the fact I’ve kept it a secret for this long, I am one too. But please, don’t be afraid of me, (Y/N). I’m far from being-”

“I’m not afraid,” you told him, cutting him off and for the first time in months earning a quiet nod instead of a slap to the face for interrupting, “Because you only hurt people who hurt others.”

“And I only get rid of people who have done horrible things aren’t worthy of their lives,” you heard his tone, and assumed he was smiling. Smiling because you were finally back. And on top of that, you understood.

It was hard from then on, but since you had him, you somehow managed. He made sure your wound was properly bandaged and would heal nicely, as the bullets Minjae used caused a horribly big amount of damage. He then held you close, and asked where you wanted to go.

“I could bring you to your place,” he said, cupping your face with a hand, “Or I can-”

“Please, don’t leave me,” he heard you whisper desperately, and gave a little nod in response to your broken tone.

“Don’t worry, babe, I won’t.”

The word “babe” only sparked new flashbacks and brought tears into your eyes. He watched you trying to keep it in, and admired how strong you were. How strong you’d been for this whole time.

“Then I’ll take you home with me, okay?” he received a few frantic nods, and gently lifted your head up a bit.

“You can stay with me from now on, if you want to, for as long as you’d like. I’ll take care of you, and make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you. Because I love you, and I won’t let anything that could keep us apart or that could hurt you in any way or form happen ever again.”

The last thing you remembered from that evening was his soft kiss that you’d missed oh so much, and his promises to take good care of you.

* * * * *

“Hey, (Y/N)! I’m back!!”

Daehyun’s voice echoed through the whole base, finally bringing you out of your flashback. He found you leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug in your hands, looking quite sad and lost.

“Did I scare you?” he scratched the back of his head and gave you a cute, apologetic smile, “I’m sorry about that. Himchan tells me to cut back on the screaming, but I’m not able to do-”

“Where are the others?” You blurted out, looking back at him.

“Aaaand you worry about everyone but me,” he chuckled, making you feel a little bad, “Good to know!”

“No, Dae. I care about you too. It’s just that.. I see you’re back here all safe and fine, but I don’t see the others around.”

“I was sent back by them, actually,” he said, walking around you and to the fridge. Typical Daehyun. When he wasn’t talking, he was stuffing his gut to unimaginable extents.

“We figured one of us should stay here with you. Just in case. And it’s my turn.”

“Also, to answer your question - Yongguk doesn’t get to stay here with you. You’ll just end up cuddling on the bed and in case hell breaks loose he’ll be in his pajamas and sleeping soundly.”

“How rude. I hadn’t even asked,” you pouted, making him chuckle as he came back up to you.

“Well, sorry. But I knew you’d ask. So, what were you doing anyways before I ruined everything?”

“Remembering.”

Your voice was enough to give away how you truly felt on the inside, and Daehyun felt bad for asking. Yet he wanted to ask again, because of all of the stuff he’d heard since the threats from yesterday. He was a curious person by default, and he craved to know.

“I’ll totally understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but..”

“You want to know.”

“Exactly.”

So you told him everything, at least more or less. And he sat there on the couch in the main room, listening carefully and nodding from time to time.

“You know, it was so hard at first,” you felt a knot forming at the back of your throat, yet you tried to repress it, “I couldn’t even sleep next to Yongguk for a solid while without flinching every now and then when he moved, because my brain was playing tricks on me and I was convinced that Minjae was still beside me and not Yongguk. It took me ages to be able to respond to “babe” without crying, and I did flinch at every single one of his touches because of reflexes that I’d gotten from having to live with Minjae at first. But.. Yongguk was patient. He understood, and gave me time. He stayed with me when I needed him the most. Hell, I thought he’d never want to kiss me again because of the fact that Minjae had been doing it with his gross cigarette mouth instead of him for months, but.. He made me feel loved, and with his actions wiped all the dirt and hurt away from my body and soul. He didn’t think it was gross to kiss me even after all of that. And I’ll love him forever for that - for making me feel pure after something like that once again.“

"I’ve always quite admired Yongguk hyung,” Daehyun said, speaking up for the first time in about an hour, “And this really shows how he can handle hard situations. It’s-”

His phone started buzzing, cutting him off. Daehyun made eye contact with you before picking it up and putting the phone on speaker.

“Daehyun-ah, get her away from there!!” Youngjae’s voice could be clearly heard through the speaker, making both of you feel uneasy.

“But where to? There isn’t a safer place than this one-”

“I don’t know how the hell they did it, but they found it. And we’re still far away - we won’t make it in time. Please, you have to get away.”

Without sparing any time, Daehyun grabbed the keys to his van and, taking you by the arm, pulled you to the door.

“Hey, not to make you nervous, but I’m the worst in this gang at literally everything. Shoothing, aim, defense - you name it,” he said while running, making you want to smack him.

“Can you drive, at least!?” you asked, seeing his eyes light up.

“Oh yes I can, even better than Junhong. Wow, I’m better at that than him, what a miracle. Side note though - he’s the worst.”

“Then I’ll just say a prayer and hope we’ll both come out alive of this,” you both ran up to his van and got in.

“Set up the GPS and the phone, please,” he instructed, driving into what he assumed was a safe direction. It didn’t take long for Younjae to be back on the phone, and for coordinates and dots to start appearing on the GPS.

“What’s all of this?” You questioned, looking at the screen.

“Youngjae’s magic,” Daehyun smiled, taking a sharp turn, “The red dots is where all of us are located on the map. You see where we are, right?”

“Yes.”

“Midwest is Youngjae, Jongup and Junhong. They’re in the second van. And to the south, that dot - that’s Yongguk hyung and Himchan hyung. They’re probably on the motorbike, I doubt a scooter can go this fast.” Daehyun made you crack up with that statement, and you felt slightly more at ease, despite the situation.

“Well, I doubt Yongguk is driving whatever the vehicle is in that case anyways. He wouldn’t go that fast like ever.”

Little did you know he did.

Himchan had laughed and pointed out the same thing at first, but he simply didn’t care. He could care less about himself and a thing as absurd as his own safety while he knew you were in danger. So he drove through the nightly streets of Seoul as fast as he could. There were no people around anyways, and he had no one to look out for.

“This isn’t exact information, it’s more just my assumptions,” Youngjae could be heard through the phone, his words making fear twist with curiosity inside of you, “But take a look at this.”

Blue dots appeared on the GPS, causing you to look at it more carefully

“Oh snap, I hope you’re kidding. They’re close,” Daehyun said, making you feel even uneasier.

“I hope I’m kidding as well. We’re taking care of disabling them. All you have to do is get away, understood?”

“Yessir!”

Getting away sounded easy enough for you, and you tried to lean back in the car seat and relax. But you simply couldn’t. Hell, did it even matter what would happen to you? You thought it didn’t, as long as the guys were fine.

As long as Yongguk was.

It didn’t take you long to spot a car driving out of nowhere and taking a sharp turn right in front of you, clearly about to bring you quite a big amount of trouble.

“Oh, here we go,” Daehyun turned the steering wheel, driving out into another street, “Now hold on, but what’s more important - watch your head!!”

You did as told, sliding down lower in the seat and praying to God you’d be fine.

“Turn left now on the next one!” Youngjae instructed, “And we’ll take car- Junhong could you be even slower!? Load the damn weapon, we don’t have time for this!”

Daehyun did as told, and for a moment you could clearly see Youngjae behind the steering wheel of their other van, driving around the corner and letting Jongup who was fully leaning out of the window with two automatics in his hands to the job. He was such a fucking murderer indeed.

You kept taking turns after turns, going back and forth and constantly crossing over with Youngjae’s vehicle. A few shots had landed on your car, and Daehyun cursed about having to go and fix it all up afterwards, but you could care less about something as unimportant as the vehicle right now. Yongguk was nowhere in sight, even though the red dot on the GPS clearly indicated they were somewhere nearby. He was in danger yet again, all because of you.

* * * * *

“I hope you’re doing your best,” Yongguk quietly said as Himchan grabbed his shoulder for support, leaning to his left and checking his gun one last time.

“Yes I am, leader.”

“You’re the leader.”

“I’ll let you take over for the night.”

The motorbike was a pure beauty, flawlessly gliding on asphalt and making little noise for the engine it possessed. It was the perfect vehicle for doing what they were about to do.

“Watch your head,” Himchan teased.

“Only if you watch your mouth,” Yongguk responded, “Although, they won’t be able to hear you anyways.”

With a swift move, they changed the line, and took a sharp right turn just to end up on another street driving next to a car. A car with three armed guys that Himchan managed to shoot in the head before they could even react.

“Should we prevent the car from crashing?”

“Naah, it’s going to the right and it’s eventually going to crash into that border. Won’t hurt anyone.”

“Good,” Yongguk said, and with that, was back to fully focusing on the street. Minjae was still somewhere out there, and he had to find him. And kill him.

* * * * *

“Daehyun-ah, we’re staying behind!” Youngjae announced, making you let out a nervous breath, “Can you turn back?”

“Well, not according to your map,” Daehyun answered, “How many people are there even-”

His sentence was cut short by the sound you hoped you’d never hear. The sound of something piercing through the tire.

“We’re doomed,” Daehyun screamed, trying to get back the control of the car, “They shot through a tire.”

“Fuck, hold on,” Youngjae called out.

“Wait for us and don’t die. I want to shoot some more,” Jongup casually said, just to be cursed at by the other two.

“Daehyun-ah, it’s up to you now. Hold on, please. Don’t make me bury you tonight.”

Another tire was shot through right as Daehyun instructed you on what would eventually happen next. The car came to a screeching stop after no more than ten seconds, being left at a street corner and a dead end in this quite abandoned part of the city as Daehyun pulled you out of it and along behind it.

“You don’t know how to shoot, do you?”

“Are you crazy or what!?”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no then. I figured just asking wouldn’t hurt, jeez.”

The enemy’s car came to a stop in front of theirs, and a few silhouettes climbed out of it without hesitation. One of them being a little too familiar.

“Hey, babe. Did you miss your man?”

“Don’t say a word,” Daehyun pulled you to his chest, aiming carefully, “And don’t worry. We’ll handle this.”

As another van appeared right behind the corner, you wondered how the hell they’d managed to arrive this fast, but when you saw Junhong behind the steering wheel, you understood everything clearly.

He’s the worst driver of all. But the fastest.

It didn’t take long for the other to react, and even with Jongup’s two automatics it was still hard to go against Minjae and his bunch.

“Get fucking lost,” Daehyun moved up and yanked one of the men who had been able to sneak up to their car in the chest with an elbow, shooting him twice after that. You simply stayed silent and quiet, obeying all of Daehyun’s instructions until at some point a whimper was what you heard instead of a command or words of reassurance.

And he fell to the ground.

“Daehyun-ah!!” you leaned over him, repeatedly hitting his cheeks, wanting him to say something. But he didn’t, lying on the ground as blood kept dripping from his head. It wasn’t a bullet, but whatever had hit him did it with such a force that it knocked him out.

Suddenly, you felt a similar sensation that made shivers run down your spine. And it wasn’t the nice type of sensation. It was the one that brought fear with it.

Minjae was tugging you to a standing position by your hair.

“Aww, look at you,” he made you face him and look him right in the eyes, “Have you exchanged Yongguk for another yet again? How pathetic, this guy’s even worse than him. You just keep sinking lower and lower.”

You struggled against his grip, unable to move as you simply wanted Yongguk to come around to fix this up, just like the previous time. Yet he was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s that, babe?” He chuckled, slapping you across your face hard, “Do you want a kiss perhaps? You’ll get all of that once we arrive home. Oh, and you’ll get even more than that - you’ll get punishment for leaving me like you did.”

The guys were too busy to notice. They were still certain Daehyun was fully conscious and protecting you, and they let Minjae’s figure sliding from their view go unnoticed.

“Or, since I told them I’d shoot you if they fired one more shot back then.. Maybe I should keep my promise?”

He yanked you back a little, observing the situation from afar. It still amazed him how good B.A.P could work as a team, and how with just three people of the team in battle, they still managed to work together against many more, handling the situation perfectly.

Until a motorbike drove out into the scene.

It was a movie scene, and another moment in time. He stopped in the middle of the gunfight, and didn’t get a single shot fired at him or Himchan because of the other three. He stepped off the vehicle, and stood there, observing the situation. It seemed as if he was invincible at that moment, and nothing could hurt him. But he was ready to hurt everyone who’d tried to harm you in any way. 

With this new lineup change and the position, as well as Himchan’s close to perfect aim and Yongguk’s newfound silent rage they didn’t take long to finish up everyone. Except of Minjae.

“Still searching for your bitch?”

Yongguk knew the voice too well, and it made him want to gag. But more than that, it made him want to get rid of the source of the voice as soon and as painful as possible.

“Say one more thing and you’re dead.”

“She’ll go down first, in that case,” you clearly felt the cold gun that was pointed at your temple, and, locking eyes with Yongguk, you felt a little nervous. But he was right there, and unlike the previous time, you had talked this out. And you knew what to do.

He winked with his right eye once. And you ducked.

* * * * *

“So, important note which might be useful,” Junhong had told you earlier while driving to the base today, “We have a few ways how to give each other instructions mid-battle.”

“Well done, Junhong-ah. Good idea, that could maybe prevent disaster,” Himchan called from behind the steering wheel, making Junhong smile.

“It’s quite easy if you ask me. A wink with the left eye means "take a step back”, a wink with the right means “duck”. Two blinks mean “to the left” and three mean “to the right”. Should I continue?”

"No, this will be enough,” Yongguk’s low voice right next to you snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to him, with a worried yet collected expression.

“I hope it won’t come to this, but if it will, keep all of this in mind. It’s simple instructions, and they might just save your life,” he answered, and let his hand trail to meet with yours. It was risky, but you knew you could manage. With him by your side, definitely.

* * * * *

Shoot.

“Ah!” Minjae stumbled back at the impact of Yongguk’s bullet hitting the gun out of his hand, “How the hell did you-”

Shoot. Right in the shoulder, where he’d shot you about a year ago.

“This is, you know, just to showcase what I promised I’d do if you wouldn’t shut the fuck up,” Yongguk hissed, smirking ad he approached slowly, “But maybe I should aim better next time around.”

“How comes you beat me?” Minjae was hysteric, not knowing what to do - to laugh or to cry, since he knew this was the end anyways, “You’re so much weaker than I am, yet you knew how to decapitate me.”

“I have an amazing team. With a leader whom I trust tons, and who’s been with me for longer than you can imagine. With a mastermind, and a killing machine who likes spilling blood. And, of course, not to forget our two men in training - they’re no less important.” his hand wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you to his side.

“But most importantly, I simply have a desire to get rid of assholes like you. People who break lives apart and aren’t worthy of oxygen.”

Minjae smiled one last time, understanding more than well he was at a dead end. Without a weapon and destined to die.

“Enjoy your bitch.”

“Look away, babe. I’m about to finish this,” Yongguk told you quietly, and you obeyed, gripping onto the front of his shirt and tilting your face upwards, burying it in the crook of his neck.

Shoot.

“This is for calling her a bitch.”

Shoot.

“This is for kidnapping her and keeping her hostage.”

Shoot.

“This is for hitting her and abusing her.”

Shoot.

“This is for putting your gross ass mouth on her perfect one.”

Shoot.

“This is for almost robbing her of life, the way I did it to you just now.”

The initial shock was gone, and, slowly opening your eyes, you understood it was over. All of this was - the constant fear and the pain he’d caused to you. No.. The pain wasn’t completely gone and over. That might stick around for quite a while still, but you knew it would only go up from now on. Because Minjae was gone, and Yongguk was present.

Yongguk’s gun dropped to the ground and his hand found it’s way to rest on your side. He tilted his head down, and pressed a soft, deep kiss on your lips, indicating all was fine. He was by your side. And he’d saved you again, this time completely getting rid of the danger.

“Yongguk-ah, Dae’s hurt,” you told him immediately, worry straining your voice. He turned back to face the scenery immediately, noticing that Daehyun was in fact lying on the ground without any motion. 

“Tel me he’s fine,” Yongguk spoke as you both approached, his arm still wrapped around your waist.

“Yeah, it should be nothing too bad. He’d just been knocked out, there shouldn’t be much more damage than a bruise on the head and a ton of headache,” Himchan informed, lifting him up bridal-style.

“So tell me, Yongguk-ah. Why do you get to carry girls home from a crime scene while I have to carry Daehyun?”

Chuckles filled the street for a good few seconds until you understood you’d better get moving before any uninvited guests would crash the crime scene. Somehow, even the quietest and most abandoned parts of the city always got inspected, and crimes were found all around town frequently and easily, but they were never solved. At least not when B.A.P was of significance in the event.

Youngjae took the responsibility of driving the van with two flats away somewhere nearby to change tires, and everyone else climbed into the other van, leaving you and Yongguk alone on the crime scene.

“Come with me, babe.” he said, and you did, because there wasn’t a place you’d rather be at in this whole world.

He drove all the way back home, keeping up a normal driving speed because there was no need to hurry now. You were right there, pressing against his back and holding onto him tightly as the wind and the speed of the vehicle curled strands your hair together in beautiful ways. Everything was fine once again.

Coming back home has never seemed so soothing. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights - he simply crashed into bed as soon as possible, scooping you into his arms and burying his face in your hair.

“Any more ex-kidnappers that I should look out for?”

“No,” you chuckled, turning to face him, “Believe it or not, no one else’s after me.”

“So no one who could hurt you?” His fingers were tracing your scar again, and for the first time ever you moved his hand away. Silence filled the room.

“Yongguk-ah, let it go,” you told him, looking him into the eyes, “It wasn’t your fault. And even if it would be, it’s in the past and not the present. I’m fine now, thanks to you. And I’ll love you forever for everything you’d done for me. Since the very first day we met.”

“But you’re never getting hurt again nonetheless,” he still wasn’t completely having all yore long speeches, and you chuckled.

“Not on your watch?”

He looked surprised after hearing that. How could you possibly know Himchan’s signature line? The line always used to telling Yongguk things wouldn’t go his desired way - he wouldn’t give up, he wouldn’t stop and let himself get dragged into hell. He wouldn’t die. And now, it wasn’t just his good old friend Himchan. It was you as well, as you weren’t about to let him be dragged down.

Looking back at you, he simply understood it was a coincidence. Or a sign, that the people who were closest to him would always look out for him, if he did the same to them. If he tried hard, even after knowing success was far from reachable, and if he’d never give up, they’d put all of their trust in him and would return the actions selflessly.

He’d been through a lot. Loss of friends, family. Anxieties, depression. Loss of motivation and the will to live. He even had to give up leadership. Yet there were still people aroud him who cared , and he promised himself he’d take good care of them as well. Because he loved them to the last bone.

“Yeah. Not on my watch.”

[kyoune]

wisteria

i’ll cling to you.

fandom: midnight cinderella notes: suitors/reader, a collection of fluff drabbles for the suitors of midnight cinderella (minus one). mostly spoiler free (watch out for leo’s, at least)

alyn

the fairytales say that princesses are dainty little things. they dance, they wear dresses and chatter over afternoon tea, they find a prince charming, and live happily ever after. princesses do not handle blades - danger is not meant to reach them, for what is what knights are for.

damn what the fairytales say.

there’s no drop of royal blood in you anyways, and this is what comforts you when your fingers slide down the cold metal. it does not feel like danger, but it does feel like home.

“are you sure you want to do this?” alyn’s voice is paranoid, overprotective. you can’t blame him, because accidents do happen, and your smooth, clean skin is a temptation for calamity. yet at the same time, as princess elect of wysteria, you have but one duty, and a wound to your flesh is a mere paper cut compared to a kingdom without a ruler.

most of all, you remind him, luxurious silk gowns don’t go well with princess blood.

a sigh tumbles out, but so does “fair point”.  he reaches out and takes your hand in his, starting off with the basics. with his guidance, you mimic and practice the exercises, trying not to imagine the inevitable bloodshed and violence. his fingers trace the skin where it is most vulnerable, where it is most efficient to stick blades in, and now you know why pocket knives are such popular weapons, even for the common thief.

a stab to the heart, a simple knock to the head, just one little mishap and perhaps you’ll never see the light of day again.

“now, come at me. i’ll test you.”

alyn assumes the role of guard on watch, back turned. the veins in your hands pulse like a ticking clock, and as your arms lift up, you can just feel it, the adrenaline behind your force, the almost frightful thrill that shocks your body as you swing the blade forward -

.. and his fingers snatch your arm. alyn’s other hand steadies you, and he steals a kiss when you whirl around in confusion.

“not bad, not bad.” he laughs, “fierce is a good look on you.”

giles

of all the things you’d expect to see, giles sleeping, face smashed against the oak desk, was not one of them. sleep makes his face look gentle, less like a strict tutor and more like the kindhearted cat lover you know.

maybe it’s not that surprising. he wears many hats, some of which should not rest on his head. yet they fall on him anyway, for there is always something to do, something to achieve. for giles christophe, being busy is a way to prove that his life has worth, even if it meant he couldn’t be a knight, even if it meant he’d have to tire the hell out of himself every night.

without him, the palace could crumble. few men can carry the weight of a country on their shoulders. speaking of shoulders, you figure adding a blanket to those wouldn’t hurt; it is rather cold, and oh, those windows will need to be shut too. around his office do you go, your feet automatically moving, your hands cleaning up a bit here and there.

minutes pass until your hands latch on to some amethyst fabric, embossed in the wysterian crest. bunching it up around your fists, you deem it warm enough, and layer it upon his shoulders.

the moment it touches him, he springs to life.

“princess…?” your title cracks on his tongue, bruised by the grogginess of his voice. how tired he sounds could break your heart.

“please don’t worry about me.” you add, “and … take care of yourself more.”

giles says nothing, though the outer corners of his lips turn up gently as you tuck the layer in. a few more finishing adjustments, and you are satisfied with your work, heels turning to let him rest in peace.

before you can even take a step away, however, familiar hands intertwine with one of yours.

“i love you, princess.”

louis

the harp really does suit him. it’s the picture of elegance; the strings and the base are as slender as he, the notes resonate with an unmatched gentleness, and the way his fingers pluck at it is just so, so graceful.

“would you like to try?”

ah. you’ve been staring too long, it seems. the lovely chimes have long stopped, and the heat of iced eyes gnaws at you. expectant, the duke’s gaze lays down a heavy peer pressure, but you know he’s being nothing but kind - you’d never have the guts to ask or intrude otherwise.

he eases when you break out into smiles and nods, ice melting into water. a featherlight smile balances on his lips, which kiss your knuckles as he takes your hand in his.

lithe fingers cover yours, and while your mind spins into a spell, all you can think about is how this is exactly like your dance lessons: he’s close, you’re blushing, and god is your heart pounding. blond bangs sweep across your forehead for a second, and his warm, soft lips press a kiss to your nose.

“don’t lose concentration now.” his voice is soft, edging on teasing.

“ah, sorry!“

leo

he’s the rumpelstiltskin of words. smooth talker, charismatic aristocrat - he takes words and spins them into gold. whether it was written or spoken did not matter; he was a master of both. paperwork ran in his blood, his speeches just came to him, and on the tip of his tongue always lies a jest, a pick-up line. with them, he crafts a mask to hide behind, locking the secret of who he was behind insincere pleasantries and vague hints.

and you, your heart is too full of compassion, your tiny body can’t possibly hold it all. it’s why your emotions spill so easily on your face, your eyes and lips swinging from one expression to another. in a way, the two of you are opposites, leo with his cryptic, static smiles, and you with your whirlwind face.

maybe that’s why you don’t get him sometimes.

hovering over the palace balcony with his face pulled taut, the bureaucrat appears to be set in stone. red, red eyes burn downwards, as if daring to peek at the midnight blue above would hurt. for the fifth consecutive night, leo hasn’t seen a wink of sleep, and you are beginning to wonder if he’s fallen into the past again.

it worries you, and you want to say something, anything, but you know better than anyone that forcing words is treading on thin ice. the past is thick waves of flames and dead parents, the lost childhood that burnt down with the crawford estate. it is a past that you have no part of, because you are his future, the future of healing waters and happy memories, and he wants you nowhere near that fire, lest it start burning once more.

from the bedroom, you bore hores into his back with your own eyes, adamant. tomorrow he will be gone, off to sort his fiasco of a family, diving back into the matter he hates most. this time, however, you will not let him go alone.

“you know, i’d do anything to keep you safe.” it’s a phrase that sounds foreign on your tongue, so foreign that it quivers. but it does take his eyes away, distracts from whatever might be tormenting him.

“so let me come too.”

he breaks from his statuesque stance, pulls you close, and it’s a mess of limbs and stray bedsheets; his hair tickles your neck when he inclines for a cuddle, and there’s so much squirming that you fear the shuffling could reach giles’ ears. when you two finally settle, with you sitting upright and his head on your lap, the silence is replaced by laughter.

“thanks.”

robert

when robert had asked to paint you, you were excited. as crown princess, it really shouldn’t have been a big deal - portraits were nearly tradition to royalty, and never had they not been painted. but when you’ve spent the last decade of your life in the shoes of a commoner, however, such things were new; they were a privilege, a dream so far that it’d never be truer than a fairy tale.

but this was not how you thought it would be.

perhaps you’ve misconstrued his words somehow. hm… yes, yes that must have been it. rainbows of colours surround you, held captive in glass bottles. brushes of duck feathers and horse tail skim the floor lazily. the painter himself wields one now, dyed in some fusion of scarlet… and gently swipes the end over the curve of your lips.

it’s soft, and it tickles. clutching at the hem of your favourite dress, you bunch up the fabric in imitation of the courage you’re trying to muster, the courage to ask hey, aren’t paintings made on mediums such as canvases, and you know… not me?

before the words can even catch in your throat, robert slips his fingers under your chin, and tilts your face towards him. “what’s wrong, love?”

the affectionate term makes you flush.

“aren’t you supposed to be painting me and not on me?” it’s an innocent question, honest, but somehow it makes him raise a brow and chuckle.

“i’d have to paint your portrait sooner or later, princess. i just thought… something more personal would be nice.“ he smiles, and within that small quirk of his lip, you see mischievous intent.

so you play along.

“tell me what you mean by ‘personal’.”

another grin surfaces on his face, this one a tinge more wolffish. he leans in close, kisses the lip colour off your mouth, and prepares his brush in a new color, a pale peach.

“mmm…i’ll tell you when i’m done with you.”

sid

“they makin’ you study again, princess?” disdain stains the informant’s voice, his fingers clipping up the pages of the book with disgust, as if it were contaminated. “bullshit.”

he continues this game as he tours your study, long legs taking wide strides, sneering at every article. if you didn’t know him any better, he’d seem like he were impersonating the bureaucrats around you, with his nose pointed high, his steps taken with arrogance.  

you purse your lips, hide your smile. amused as you are, the matter of your duties takes priority, and the princess of wysteria has much more important things to do over entertaining her local bad boy.

at least, that is what you tell yourself, eyes endlessly fixated on him. damn him for being so alluring, so distracting in a way.

"I need to study.” it comes out colder than you want it to be, but hey, that’s not your problem. not like it’d affect him much, anyway; he gets this treatment from a fellow blonde duke all the time, does he not?

yet his face collapses in exasperation nonetheless, as if he were already tired of this “princess” thing. dark brows knit for a split second, and when they relax back, his voice takes on a sensual edge.

“really?” another book is tossed to the ground, “guess i’ll have to tutor ya myself.”

“and why, exactly, would you be a good tutor?”

“because i know shit.”

you can practically hear the grin in his voice. it’s his trademark smirk, the one you always want to slap off. or kiss off. either works.

“i really need to study, sid.”

and you whip back, intending to tackle your problem subject yet again, but what you don’t know is that sid has you too close to let you go.

the minute your skin flushes against the leather bound cover of the textbook, his hands have slammed down on either side of you, and the birch desk creaks in protest to the added weight.

“nah. you don’t.”

the man has you straddled in no more than three minutes. lips nipping at the tender side of your ear, he’s got a grin that taunts “just try to get rid of me”.

it would be worthless to resist. like a lion, sid arnault gets what he wants, and he will fight for it.

“fine. just this once, okay?”

your fingers press against the thick fur of his coat, slipping under the layer and peeling it off. the husky chuckle that chafes your ears is telling of his approval, and he glides his fingers down your thighs, tapping the bone of your knees before tracing to your hip.

“this,” he murmurs, “is the femur.”

“that’s… not what i need to learn.”

“yeah, i know. but see? i know shit.”

your laugh stifles into a gasp when he leans in and bites your lip.

nico

fevers are weird.

they’re cold, and then they’re hot. they’re somewhere in between that isn’t “warm” nor “comfortable”, and the only relief for the affected comes from the sweet unconsciousness that sleep brings. most of all, however, they are an unwelcome visitor.

much like nico himself, you suppose, though colds cannot react to chilled glares and whispers of “who let this child into the palace?”, to the unrelenting judgement of haughty nobles and veteran staff, the treatment that you know all too well.

it’s a miracle how all that cheer can fit into him, now that you think about it.

nico meier, he’s always sprightly smiles and spring flowers around you (or perhaps, for you). your personal butler and self-established cheerleader, there is not a day where he has failed to brighten you up, sneaking in extra food from the pantry, or making silly faces when giles dives into another one of his motherly lectures. it never mattered if blurred figures of nobility looked down upon him, it never mattered if it hurt to be an outsider, but what did matter to him was you.

you drench the towel in ice water, fold it into neat rectangles for his forehead. as the cloth wrings in your hands, your heart does too. he does so much for you, never complains, and yet… perhaps you’ve taken him for granted.

the flutter of weak fingertips halts you. nico’s eyes settle open, a hoarse “hey..” escaping as the butler attempts to wrangle on a grin. a few seconds pass, and he’s betrayed by his own body, shivering as he tosses around with a groan.

a finger to your lips, you shush him, ushering him back under the comforter.

“just for today, let me serve you.”

bryon

novels stack his desk, the tower of books neatly aligned in a pillar. normally, they wouldn’t matter to you; it’s usually yet another cocktail of history texts, spiced with a math book or two. if you were lucky, perhaps there’d be a pamphlet about stargazing or the native flora. today, everything in the queue alarms you: they’re all silly romance novels, a “guide to love”, and… wait, is he reading a book about pick up lines? the king of stein, a stoic with hawk eyes, byron wagner.. studying romance?

“bryon?”

you’re tempted to ask why, but the shock chains your voice away. he looks up, but only briefly, flashing his focus back down to a dog eared page.

“are you a library book? because i am checking you out.”

“…”

the intention is sweet. the execution? questionable. you haven’t heard of many men who could charm women with monotone lines. in fact, you haven’t heard of any, nor have you ever met any other man who would say such things with a gaze so sharp it could kill.

you suck in a breath, pretending as if you’ve just eaten a sour candy.

“did sid do th- no. don’t answer that. i already know.”

the king’s expression hardens at the response, forehead scrunching up in thought. it’s almost as if the cogs in his brain were visible, really; there they were, churning about what went wrong.

then, a minute later, he picks up the book and begins again.

“are you a -”

not even three syllables leave his parted lips before you press a hand against him, silencing his efforts. they were appreciated, they (honest-to-god!) really were, but it just doesn’t suit him, and you beg with desperate eyes that he gets the memo.

“is my performance… so intolerable?”

“well, it’s not very you.”

his dejection shows in the way his shoulders slump, his stature frigid as his brain goes back to the drawing board. you take it upon yourself to drape arms around him and kiss him on the cheek, but he’s unresponsive, unmoving. a mile-yard stare extending down his study, and his voice strains.

“what do I do with all these books now?”

albert

daisies splatter the meadow in patches here and there, splashes of white and yellow invading the greenery. though small by stein standards, it feels rather endless - though that may be due to the absurd amount of rabbits dotting the field.

you’d been told that it was the closest thing the country had to a petting zoo. correction: a petting zoo that specializes in only rabbits, but still, one nonetheless.

the brown fluff underneath your fingers feels like luxury. soft, light, and smooth, you wonder what kind of haircare products could achieve this sort of texture and sheen. surely, it would involve part intensive care and part good genetics-

“er… excuse me, princess of wysteria, but i am not one of the rabbits.” albert stammers, in that all too familiar, all too judging ‘what are you doing?’ tone of his. he’s part flustered and part annoyed, such a typical albert mood, and it makes you want to tease him more.

and so, hands still tangled in that neat, neat fluff of hair he has, you smile and nod, “yes, albert. i’m very aware of that.”

the sing-song tone makes his face contort into displeasure, and his lips sputter to voice a complaint. silly albert, always so stiff, even when you’re obviously playing games with him.

you sigh and offer him a practiced pout, fingers escaping onto benjamin’s fur. rubbing behind the rabbit’s ears, you coo, eye faking sorrow, “you appreciate my touch, don’t you?”

the bunny stares with wide eyes, innocent and unknowing. burying his nose into your palm, he sniffs, once, twice, and twitches before settling snugly under your attentive fingers, satisfied.

its approval elicits another string of babyish babble from you, and out of the corner of your eyes, albert huffs, giving in to jealously. ha! beaten by a mere bunny rabbit, hm?

scooting closer to you, his knees knock against yours, and the sensation of cold fingers running up your scalp forces a squeal out of you. the knight flushes to his ears, mumbles something incoherent in his bumbling.

“my hair is soft as well, princess.”

you don’t know what shocks you more: the fact that albert’s statement sounds like a complaint, or the fact that he’s acting a bit…. childish.

“really?” your response is mockingly dramatic, spoken to provoke. “I wouldn’t know.”

the shade of red he turns nearly makes you think he invented a new colour.

author’s notes: AHAHAHA (!!) i finally got all of it down…. if anyone’s curious why rayvis isn’t here it’s because i know too little of him to write him, and i fear writing the suitors ooc already… i’ve only done louis/alyn/leo’s routes so i have no idea what’s up with the rest and had to spoil myself

the title is just the alternative spelling to wysteria, which is both the name of the country and that really nice lavender plant. in the victorian language of flowers, its meaning derives from its tendency to cling to walls and grow, thus the flavor text.

pretend this is a celebratory piece for albert’s route coming out since i know i won’t be able to finish a piece for him before then

[bloomsburgu]

Women’s History Month Young Alumna Profile

Jackie Eddy ’14, Mass Communications

Eddy is in her second year at the Patriot League as the associate director for communications. She handles the daily management of the Patriot League’s official website in addition to coordinating content for the league’s social media platforms. Eddy also serves as the league’s primary contact for men’s soccer, women’s volleyball, women’s basketball, men’s lacrosse and men’s and women’s tennis. Before arriving at the Patriot League, she worked at Greensboro College, Newberry College and the Big South Conference. While at BU, she spent nearly two years working in the sports information department.

What made you want to get into athletic communications?

I say this whenever this question is asked to me: Tom McGuire. I emailed for an interview for his student-worker position in the Sports Information Department and the rest is history, to be honest. While I always knew I wanted to work in the sports world in some aspect, I initially didn’t know what I wanted to do. He immediately threw me in the fire, and that’s what I needed. I loved everything from the excitement of working games to being behind the scenes in the office making game programs. I owe Tom a lot for taking me under his wing and showing me the ropes and ultimately guiding me to figure out what I am passionate and good at.

You’ve had a lot of stops along the way to the Patriot League, what was the hardest part of having to move all the time?

That question is an easy one for me. The hardest part was being away from my family. I have been blessed with incredibly supportive parents and sisters, and now the addition of a brother-in-law. While they were hesitant when I picked everything up and moved to North Carolina shortly after I graduated, they were behind me. Every move I made I had them in the back of my mind. I would often question myself, “Should I go home and try to find somewhere to work in New Jersey?” but I knew if I wasn’t 100% happy that my family wouldn’t be fully happy. When I got hired at the Patriot League we went out to celebrate the night I got the call; when I got past positions,we didn’t get to because I was too far away. It was such a special feeling for me to be with them on that day because they were there since I started at Bloomsburg. I could say that starting at a new school or conference is difficult because it’s a new way of doing things, butI got used to that…I didn’t get used to being away from my family.

Who have been your female role models in the world of athletic communications?

My biggest female role model in athletic communications is my friend, Ally Keirn. I met her while she was a grad assistant in the SID office and I was a student-worker there. When I met her, I knew she was going to be someone I was going to look up to in this field because she is such a strong, passionate and resilient woman. She is now at Army West Point, who is in our conference, where she is the associate director of athletic communications, so it has been such a fun experience to work with her again and learn more from her and vice versa. We need more Ally Keirn’s in this field.  

What advice would you give to any female wanting to get into athletic communications?

Stay persistent. I used to be called persistent from coworkers and bosses all the time, and still to this day I do. I always thought it was a bad thing…like I was being a pain or I wasn’t letting things go. But now I realize that if I wasn’t persistent in standing up for ideas that I had or opportunities that I wanted, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

Don’t be intimated if/when you realize this field as a lot of men in it. I will be completely honest when I started out I thought I was going to crash and burn since I was a female, but over the years I have loved being a female in athletic communications. I think it is such an inspiring thing to see females climb the ranks in this field because let us be real and we are pretty amazing. Something that has helped me realize my full potential in my position is the amazing male bosses that stood behind, including my current boss, Ryan Sakamoto. He has stood next to me in many discussions about things I wanted to change or take part in, ready to support me. Knowing that you have a boss (male or female) that will support you and push you to be better is so beneficial in the sports world.

If you could go back in time, what advice would current Jackie give to undergrad Jackie or just after graduation Jackie?

It is okay if you don’t have it all together all the time. I am 26 years old and have worked at numerous places andI still don’t have itentirelytogether, and that’s okay. Having it all together is hard in this position because your role and day-to-day in continually changing.

Be authentic. If you know me, you know that I can sometimes be opinionated and maybe loud, and my facial expressions are super transparent. But that is what makes me who I am. My mom and dad raised me to not beafraid to share my opinion when I felt it was the right time and I am glad they did because my opinionshave changed some things for the better during my time in this career and even in my personal life.

What do you enjoy most about your current position?

Being one of the people who gets to really brag and promote all our student-athletes in our conference. Our conference is just not about how our student-athletes do onthe field of play, but also how they do in the classroom. They are all well-rounded men and women so being able to watch them combine their talents on a court or a field and then in the classroomas well is truly amazing. It makes my job more fun when I get to write not only about stats but their appropriate extracurricular activities as well.

Where do you see yourself in five years? 10 years?

If I was asked this question five years ago I would have said, “I want to become the women’s basketball SID at UConn.”  My answer now is simple: Wherever I am, I want to be happy. I know many people who are in a profession or at a job they don’t like, andI never want to feel like that. Yes some days are harder than others, and some days I might question myself, but ultimately I love my job. So whether I am in my home state of New Jersey, down south in the Carolinas or on the west coast, I want to be doing something that makes me truly happy.

10 years from now? Still happy in whatever position I hold, but hopefully with the addition of a husband, kids and a dog.

What prompted you to want to come back for Boot Camp?

When I saw that they were holding the Career Intensive Boot Camp, I felt like it was my turn to give back to the school that gave me so much. As I said before it is where I discovered my passion and career path, I met so many amazing people and professors, and I found myself during my time at Bloomsburg. While my interview skills aren’t perfect, I have had a lot of different experiences and I was so excited and honored they had me take part in the Boot Camp to give the students advice and shed some light on how future interviews might look.

[chicagocityofclans]

Garrett Howard Cleirigh → Michael Fassbender → Warlock

→ Basic Information 

Age: 892

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Sapiosexual

Powers: Disintegration

Birthday: November 28th

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius 

Religion: Buddhist

Mark: Cleirigh 

Generation: 1st

→ His Personality Garrett is constantly setting bad examples for warlocks worldwide. He doesn’t care much about anything but himself and does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with no repercussions. That is unless Nathan whines to Ronan or Roman about it, then he’s in trouble. Garrett is known for being reckless and irresponsible when using his powers. He often uses them in inappropriate situations that could lead to them being exposed. He is naughty by nature, always eager to prove himself. All in all, he is heartless and stubborn, ready to destroy everything in his path for his goals. Despite this, he is capable of seriousness if he feels the situation requires it. He is the typical younger sibling and suffers from youngest child syndrome. He is the last Cleirigh with their pure mark, which is rounding out nearly 900 years. However, Garrett doesn’t see himself as spoiled, less intelligent or reckless. He sets goals, impossible or not, and goes for them. He thinks outside of the box and does everything in his means to get what he wants.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Part-Time Package Handler at Shutter Magic Imports & Exports, Part-Time Cashier at Wondering Worlds of Magic, Part-Time Orderly at University Medical Center, Part-Time Front Desk/Secretary at Cleirigh Psychiatry Center & Part-Time Bartender at Anonymous. 

Scars: One on his upper lip which he keeps covered by his mustache

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: When Mars Attack (The Movie) and Festivities

Two Dislikes: Make-Up and Persistent People

Two Fears: Roman Cleirigh and Human Shifters taking his appearance to do good things

Two Hobbies: Pyromania and Bushcraft

Three Positive Traits: Brave, Naughty, Carefree

Three Negative Traits: Manipulative, Unsympathetic, Intense 

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Caden Cole (Mother): His mother was a hateful woman. Garrett made sure her body was disgraced and humiliated when she died. 

Patrick Cole (Step-Father): Garrett was sure Patrick knew he wasn’t his son. He’s also sure Patrick tried to kill him more than once as a baby/toddler. As a teenager, Garrett killed him during a hunting trip together. 

Sibling Names:

Ronan Cleirigh (Brother): Ronan is considered his best friend. Garrett takes pride in being one of the only ones that can make his older brother laugh. 

Kaylor Cleirigh (Sister): Kaylor was a gift from the heavens. She didn’t fall into any stereotype and is always ready to drop everything in order to stand by him. 

Roman Cleirigh (Brother): Roman and Garrett never got along. Roman went as far as separating him while he trained in Self-Disintegration. It took 3 weeks for Ronan and Kaylor to find all of him. If something is amidst, in his life, Roman is most likely behind it. Right now he does his best to ignore him.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Jia Hu Cleirigh (Love): They have an off again/on again relationship. Garrett is sure Jia is the one he wishes to spend the rest of his life with but that’s a long time. He isn’t afraid of much but labels and commitments might be the only thing holding them back from greatness together. 

Platonic Connections:

Brighton ‘Bee’ Genesis (Brother-In-Law): Garrett was sad when he found out that Kaylor was married. He gave Bee a lot of shit but the son of a bitch won him over.

Ishtar Cleirigh (Sister-In-Law): Garrett was skeptical of Ishtar at first and he tried more than once to get Ronan to reconsider marriage. Once Garrett gave her a chance their relationship flourished. 

Nathan Cleirigh (Nephew): Garrett likes Nathan’s mannerisms. He takes pride in teaching his nephew ways to avoid answering questions due to his inability to lie. He also respects that Nathan has never tried to shrink him.

Ethan Cleirigh (Nephew): Ethan either has great bravery, or the need to die, that Garrett doesn’t see in anyone else. While they don’t have much in common, Garrett enjoys their random lunch or dinner dates. 

Judson Cleirigh (Nephew): Judson is pure entertainment to Garrett. Besides his brothers, he has never met anyone with such a keen for magic and the supernatural world around them. 

Akasha Genesis (Niece): Askasha is like her mother and sometimes gives Garrett a run for his money. More than often she’s always getting him into trouble.

Gennifer Genesis (Niece): Gennifer was one of the reasons Garrett hates kids; and still does. She’s not bad as an adult, but Gennifer as a toddler is forever ingrained in Garrett’s mind. She keeps him up to date on the happenings around the world.

Owen Genesis (Nephew): Who names their kid Owen? Nobody. 

Ryan Cleirigh (Great-Nephew): When Judson came home with a little bundle, Garrett was happy to have another Cleirigh baby in the family after hundreds of years. He genuinely likes the kid. Usually he hates kids.  

Teyla ‘Tikka’ Cleirigh (Niece): He told Ishtar a thousand times that Teyla didn’t seem like a Teyla. He created her nickname Tikka and was glad it stuck. Thanks to his experience with Ryan, Garrett was more hands on with Teyla and he barely dropped her as a baby.

Altair Cleirigh (Nephew): Garrett has never loved anyone the way he loves Altair. He is perfect and can do no wrong in Garrett eyes. The child has opened his heart completely and it shows. He has already called dibs on being his forever mentor.

Duke Thornton (Distant Cousin): Garrett and Duke had a lot of fun while he was still a warlock. Their fun has slowed down but they continue to support each other�� Mostly at a distance or with a ton of alcohol.

 Averill Sookram (Friend): They used to be friends and Garrett is unsure why they are arguing this decade but he is sure they will be back to their old ways soon. 

Lyra Cleirigh (Friend): Lyra mentored under his siblings. Garrett took her out on a ‘mentorship’ to test out what she learned for a few years as a mentor too. 

Chiara Ricci (Friend): They have an unlikely friendship. Garrett finds her amusing and full of life, unlike most vampires.

Cassandra Askeris (Friend): Cassandra is one of Jia’s friends who has become one of his own. It took a while to get her over to his side but Garrett eventually did. 

Kady Gaines (Friend): Kady introduced Garrett to social media, starbucks, Apple products and more. She is the modern witch of their time and Garrett enjoys her.

Peter Knox (Future Friend): Peter is dating his cousin Duke. Garrett has a lot of questions about their relationship and Peter doesn’t kick him out of Anon when he asks. Garrett is sure they're on the road to a fun loving friendship.

Minsky Edison (Old Friend): It's been centuries since Garrett and Minsky met. Minsky is often called in when Roman separates him while he’s disintegrated. 

Jason Weyden (Acquaintance): Garret doesn’t mind Jason. He laughs at all of his jokes and is not easily offended by the things he says. Garret wouldn’t mind buying him a drink or opening a tab for him at Anon.

Kudzai Rinker (Acquaintance): They do business together and Garrett knows most of her children. Garrett wouldn’t call her a friend. He doesn’t agree with her treatment of those who share her mark or her black widow past.

Sid Velanica (Friendly): Sid is training under Jia. It's a rule that he cannot be unnecessarily rude to the mentees unless he wants his shit fucked up. 

Hostile Connections:

Eric Lasiter (Strained): Eric is trying to be like him. Garrett is 23% sure of it.

Arthur Milligan (Hate): Arthur needs a life away from Roman and his family. 

Tristan Lawton (Dislike): Tristan is a screw up and the entire supernatural world knows! He and Ronan are often called to fix Tristans’ mistakes.

Pets:

God (Owl): God is Garrett familiar. God has been a little secret of Garrett’s only his close family knows. He’s had him since he was 20. Garrett often turns to God and has been for 872 years. 

→ History Garrett had a tough life before he was found by Ronan. His mother and step-father hated him and made his life miserable. At first he tried to be everything they wanted him to be and expected from him. Under their daily pressure his strength slowly died down, leaving him numb, and unafraid of what they or others thought of him. This drove him into acting reckless, being uncompromising and using intimidation against those who thought they could walk all over him. He was 11 years old when he killed one of the neighborhood dogs by mistake. Seeing the blood rush out of its body triggered something in Garrett. He continued down that route, killing and experimenting with any small animals he could find, until the day his step-father took him hunting. He was Garrett’s first human kill. It continued to the annoying baby next door, random strangers in the streets, boys at school and finally his mother.

He was running from his town's people when Ronan found him. He had apparently temporarily deactivated all of the local wards for a few seconds without knowing. But it was enough to alert Ronan, Kaylor and Roman that there was another warlock or witch close by. They had been close by because they were tracking rumors of someone that shared their marks and possibilities of them being a necromancer due to the increasing amount of death within the town limits. Garrett was skeptical at first but the man teleported him away from the angry mob of people closing in on them. He caught a glimpse of Ronan’s world and power, and Garrett wanted in. 

Kaylor and her husband, Bee, suggested that Garrett get a familiar as he struggled with his magic. Garrett wasn’t quick at picking up magic like Ronan, Kaylor and Roman were. It took awhile but Ronan was sure he wasn’t an elemental, mental, or a necromancer, evocator or therinologist after trying to test his power. They were also lost at why he was immune to physically created magic. While some magical powers were recorded, they were still working on figuring most powers and why some powers manifested later on in life. Garrett fell in this category for decades. He focused more on long distance teleportation, conjuring, enchantments and scrying. It wasn't until Garrett disintegrated an object did they finally figure what he was and focused on him catching up.

 Garrett’s need to kill died down drastically after meeting his brothers and sister. While his magic did make it easier to kill, his interest winged away from it and more towards sex and magic. He was forever young, accumulating money and had godlike powers. He laid with men and women alike. Waltzing into city after city breaking hearts. Jia Hu saw right past all of that when they met. He was a mentee under Ronan and was constantly in Garrett’s space. He didn’t mind sharing his space with Jia, Garrett pursued him and they dated for nearly a year before Garrett found himself afraid of where their relationship was heading. Jia was his first serious fling and Garrett couldn’t fight the feeling of love growing over him. Garrett left for Italy, to mentor briefly under someone else besides Ronan and Kaylor. When he returned, he and Jia picked right back up where they left off. This started the pattern that varied from Garrett or Jia leaving for a few months with the longest separation being 10 years. 

→ The Present Garrett has been working on his relationship with Jia. Things have been going well and Garrett is unsure if it is the calm before the storm or if they’ve both grown past their fears. While working on keeping their bond strong, Garrett has taken up learning more about charms and started showing more of an interest behind the craft. While he usually focuses more on spells since he is immune to physically created magic, Garrett has been tinkering with charms. He figured he had a hack for placing curses on charms that are not easily detected and are untraceable. He has been doing this in his free time and has yet to share the news with Jia, his local charm master lover. 

Garrett has been thinking of taking on a mentee, however, with his power of magical disintegration, it's been hard to find a mentee that shares his powers or is solely interested in ways to break down bonds, potions, charms, shields, wards, etc. Ronan and Loland's new addition, Altair has not helped his thoughts either. Everyone knows when left to his thoughts it can be dangerous. Garrett's thoughts are leading towards wanting to steal, or possibly adopt, a witch or warlock child to train in all his glory. Those thoughts are still at the forefront of his mind but he plans on playing caution around his family and Jia; not knowing what their reaction would be.

[sconesteaandmysteries]

The Eye on the Sparrow, Chapter Four

Next chapter. That will probably be all for this fic this week. Hopefully, I’ll post more of it next week.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Summary: Sid meets up with an old friend...

Chapter Four

The rain that lasted most of the day eventually gave way to a cool, crisp twilight. It was the sort of evening that felt perfect to Sid for a night out to himself. Thus, after he drove Lady Felicia back home from the Bolton’s party, he stopped by his caravan, changed out of his chauffeur’s uniform, and headed off to the Red Lion.

He had about the uninvited guests who dropped by the party from Lady Felicia as he drove her home. From what she said, it sounded like something Sid almost regretted missing. Almost. After all, there was the consolation of hanging around the kitchen and having all the leftovers he wanted. As well as getting to know the Bolton’s newest maid.

Sid walked up to the bar and ordered himself a beer. He had hoped to run into his new acquaintance at the pub tonight. Although, he also knew that that was dependent on whether or not she could get her share of the cleanup from the party done early enough. He took his time drinking his first two beers and listened in on a few conversations to pass the time. Not only was it mildly entertaining, but he never knew when something he heard could prove useful to the Father during an investigation at some point.

He hung around for a couple of hours, but saw no sign of the girl he had planned on meeting. Disappointed, Sid started to head for the bar again to get one more for the road before heading back to his caravan for an early night for a change.

“Sid Carter…and here I thought I’d never see you again.”

Sid turned from the bar to see who had spoken to him and was stunned by what he saw. The man behind him had a tweed suit and a mustache and had aged a few years since he had seen him last. It took him a few seconds to get past these superficial changes, but once he did, a huge grin appeared on his face.

“Nicky? Nicky Anders? Is that really you?” Sid walked over and shook Nicky’s hand and patted his arm. “I don’t believe it. Look at you. Looks like you made out all right.”

“And you’re still here in Kembleford,” Nicky said, patting Sid’s shoulder. “Somehow, I always knew you’d end up staying here. And what about that priest? Father Brown? Did he get back all right? And what about you?”

“Yeah, he came back just before the war ended,” Sid replied. “As for me, there’s not much to tell. I still do odd jobs and handyman work. On top of that you can add being a chauffeur for a lady.”

“Sid Carter, going straight and doing honest work?” Nicky said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, mostly honest work,” Sid chuckled. “But what about you? I never did hear what happened to you after you got out of Kembleford.”

“Honesty, I’m sorry about that,” Nicky said. “I really am. I was just so desperate to leave, I suppose I took that out on you. And then I got so busy with my new life, the years just sort of slipped away. You are right though that my fortunes have definitely changed.”

Nicky walked over toward the bar with Sid walking alongside him. “Before I get into that though, I’m feeling rather parched.”

“Sure,” Sid said. He waved to get the attention of the bartender. “Two beers.”

“And I’m buying,” Nicky said, holding up a ten shilling note. Sid grinned back at him.

“Well, I’m not going to argue that,” he said. “So come on, what did happen?”

Nicky held up his hand to wait until they had gotten their beers and he had paid for them. Then they moved to sit at one of the tables near the back.

“I got a job,” Nicky said, sipping his drink. “A proper one. You heard of Andrew Carstairs? The retail mogul?”

“Yeah, Lady F…I mean, Lady Felicia…she’s the lady I work for,” Sid said. “She mentioned he showed up at a party I took her to earlier today. From what she said, he sounds like a real piece of work.”

“Well, I can’t agree with you too much there,” Nicky chuckled. “Because he’s my employer now.”

“You’re kidding,” Sid replied, smirking. Nicky took a long drag on his beer before laughing again.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “You’re looking at Mr. Carstairs’ personal assistant.”

“Right,” Sid chuckled. “And how did you swing that, eh? Whatever it was, it must have been a whopper of a scheme.”

“It was nothing as underhanded as you’re implying,” Nicky smiled. “He happened to know my previous employer, who recommended me for the job.”

“Maybe so, but you don’t exactly strike me as the typewriter and shorthand type,” Sid countered. “So what are you doing for him?”

“All sorts of things,” Nicky shrugged. He gulped down most of his beer before continuing. “I look after things for him. Check up on the other people who work for him to make sure they’re doing their jobs. When he’s thinking about making a business deal with someone, I go out ahead of him to get the ‘lay of the land’ so to speak. And, of course, I do any other odd jobs that need doing.”

“And he pays you pretty well for all that then?” Sid asked.

“Enough to keep my comfortable,” Nicky said. “For now anyway.”

“You thinking of making a change in the near future?”

“Let’s just say that I always like to keep my options open,” Nicky said, finishing his beer. “It’s no good to let yourself stagnate. Right?”

“I guess,” Sid shrugged. “You never were one for letting the grass grow under your feet.”

“That’s why I was always the one who was better at spotting opportunities,” Nicky laughed. “Especially when we were working together.”

“Hang on,” Sid said, sitting upright in his chair. “I was the one who told you about that Davers job and how loose the old man was with his money. And that was one of the best jobs we ever pulled. Oh and what about that woman with her music box collection. Or did you forget about how I had to hang around and listen to all those blinking music boxes for a week so we could work out a plan?”

“You’re forgetting though that I was the one who made all those plans run smoothly,” Nicky argued. “That’s why we worked so well together. I was the brains. You were the brawn.”

“Funny, I don’t remember it like that,” Sid smirked.

“You always did have a bad memory,” Nicky smirked back. “It’s why you need someone to keep you in line.”

After that, the conversation moved between playful bickering and fond recollections of the various schemes and mishaps the two of them had gotten into as boys. It felt a bit odd to Sid to be able to laugh so much about those times now. Back then, Nicky was facing poverty and he was still dealing with the loss of his parents and then with Father Brown leaving Kembleford for the war. But somehow, the passage of time had smoothed away most of the unhappy parts of that time which allowed the good memories shine through.

Or maybe it was just easier to remember the good times while things were currently better in his life.

As they downed some more beers, Sid also contemplated the sense of relief that he had over seeing Nicky again. He had always wondered what had happened to him after they had parted ways. Nicky was clever, of course, but he also had a tendency to get more than a little shortsighted in his quest for more money. Sid worried that that aspect of Nicky’s personality could get him mixed up with the wrong people and that that could lead to Nicky spending a long time in prison…or worse.

Instead, it looked as if Nicky had charmed and conned his way into a prosperous and, on the surface anyway, legal way of life. Sid was happy for him as he remembered how much hardship Nicky and his family had suffered.

On a more personal level, Sid was also pleased that their friendship had not been broken beyond repair. Nicky had been one of the closest friends Sid had ever had. It felt good to reconnect with him, especially now that neither of them was doing badly in life.

Sid finished off his latest pint and let out a loud burp before leaning back in his chair. “So, how long do you think you’ll be in Kembleford?”

“I don’t know,” Nicky said before draining what was left in his glass. “A week at least. Mr. Carstairs is looking at some business opportunities around here. Says that there’s real potential out in these parts.”

“Good luck to him then,” Sid nodded. “In the meantime, maybe the two of us could meet up again. I know a place where you can get the best shepherd’s pie in all of Kembleford.”

“I’d like that,” Nicky said. “And perhaps I can offer something to you as well. Like a chance to do some high-paying work?”

“Sounds promising. What kind of work did you have in mind?”

“Too early to say,” Nicky answered. “It’ll depend on what my boss wants done. But when something comes up, I could put in a good word for you. Who knows? It could lead to something more permanent. We could be partners again.”

Sid smiled at him. The prospect of working with Nicky again and making a good living while doing it did appeal to him. However, the vague way Nicky talked about it made Sid wonder if what they would be doing would be entirely legal. Not that that alone was enough to deter Sid, but these days it did give him some pause. Plus, a permanent position could mean having to leave Kembleford which he also wasn’t sure about.

“Yeah, let me know,” Sid said. “And I’ll be sure to think about it.”

“Well don’t take too long to think about it,” Nicky cautioned. “If something does come up, you won’t want to let it pass you by ‘cause you might not get another opportunity.”

Sid nodded again and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He wasn’t all that sure about his chances to work with Nicky again long term.

However, he was determined to not let his chance to mend their friendship slip by him.

Later that night, after the moon had started to wane in the sky, a figure dressed in black snuck onto the Bolton estate.

Slowly and carefully, they crept up to the main house and managed to slip in through an open window near the foyer. They had to wait patiently whenever a servant appeared nearby, but their patience paid off as they slipped past all of them and managed to make it over to the study. They opened the door and made sure to close it with great care so it wouldn’t creak.

Then the figure walked around the room, as if to admire all the lavish furnishings and large inventory of books. It wasn’t long though before they walked over to their intended destination: a small stand next to the oak desk that sat in the back of the room. The stand held a small collection of crystal bottles, including one that held some whiskey.

They opened a window and dumped the remainder of the whiskey into the bushes outside. Then they pulled another bottle out of a pouch that was slung around their shoulder. The contents were poured into the now empty container and appeared to be identical to what had been in there before.

Soon, the bottle was filled and returned to its previous spot on the stand. The empty bottle that the figure had brought with them was put back into the pouch. Then they climbed out of the window and dashed off into the night, quickly being swallowed by the darkness.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow their mission would be complete. And Alistair Bolton would pay for what he had done.

[justjessame]

Diamonds Are A Boy’s Best Friend Chapter 29

I don’t know why I didn’t tell my grandfather where I was going, or why I didn’t call from the house.  Paranoia?  Fear that by some means Klein would find me?  I didn’t examine my reasons too closely.  I just wanted to be alone, even while surrounded by actual strangers, when I made the call.  

I had another session scheduled with the rabbi, to go over the Seder ritual, to prove that I had my part and plans in order.  And afterward, assuring the driver that had taken me that I wanted nothing more than to go to a diner we’d passed on route to the synagogue, he pulled in and started to walk inside with me.  

“I think I saw you eyeing that establishment earlier,” I pointed across the street to what appeared to be another restaurant.  His eyes glanced over and I saw a blush flash over his cheekbones.  “She must be pretty to make that happen,” I smiled at him and shooed him away.  “Go, who am I to stand in the way of young love.”  Who indeed?  I thought as he gave me a bashful smile and rushed across the street.  

A cup of tea, a handful of change, and I found the payphone unoccupied.  I took a moment to steady my nerves, it was an hour later in Miami, so he’d still be at work or so I hoped.  Slipping the coins in the slot, I got connected to the Miramar within moments.  

“Hello, could I speak to Mr. Isaac Evans, please?”  The call went to Ike’s receptionist, who was a touch more inquisitive about who could be calling.  “It’s about a jewel that Mr. Evans had inquired about, he asked that I call him back.  This diamond, it has a few other offers and I’d hate for him to-”  She cut me off and put me through.  

“Hello?”  He sounded unsure, and I smiled at how deep his voice was, the memories of it didn’t hold a candle.

“Ike?”  I swallowed, feeling my chest clench with longing.  Longing to feel him and see him.  “It’s-”

I could hear the exhale from my end, as though he’d been holding it for days.  “Liz.  Thank God.”  Smiling and biting my lip, I wanted him to say more, his voice would always calm me.  “How are you?  Is everything-”

“I’m fine.”  I took a sip from my cup.  “Tea helps.  I-I wish I hadn’t had to-”

“Me too, Liz, me too.”  I could hear his chair moving in the background of the call.  “I wanted to be able to tell you-  I love you, Liz, nothing’s changed.”  I closed my eyes, feeling a different stirring in my stomach from the one that usually sent me rushing to the toilet.  “I need you here, and soon.”  

“Vera-”  I swallowed against the memory of what I’d done, was doing to her, even if she didn’t know.

“It’s over,” he said it simply, as though he’d ripped off a bandage and tossed it.  “She knows, right now it’s all for show.”  Image, I thought, it’s everything.  “Sid’s working on the papers, when it’s time, they’ll be signed and-”

“And I just step into her shoes?”  I sighed.  “The talk, Ike, they’ll run me through-”

“Liz, you’re doing it again,” he sounded like he was smiling.  “Stop talking yourself out of us.  You love me, I love you.  That’s what matters.”  

“You make it sound so simple,” shaking my head I took another sip from my cup.  “How is everyone?”  

“V is happy that she’s going to be free, Liz.  She’s making plans.”  I waited for the others.  “Stevie-” He sighed heavily.  “That’s something I’ll save for when you’re here.  Danny’s fine, he took the job-”

“Even after-”  Disbelief colored my voice.  His son would work for a man who targeted his father?  What the hell?  “I’m sorry, Ike.”

“Don’t be, Liz.  Danny, he’s more-  He has his own path and I’m trying to make peace with it.”  I heard him chuckle.  “Lauren is going to be pissed that I talked to you and she didn’t get to.  She’s asked about you, if I’ve heard anything, are you alright?  I’m starting to wonder if she likes you more than me.”  

Softly laughing, I sighed.  “I miss you.”  It wasn’t nearly enough, the words, to tell him how much.  “I miss Miami, I even miss-”

“The Miramar?”  His smile came through loud and clear.  “I-I miss you so damn much, sweetheart, when are you coming home?”  

Home?  I considered that description and realized Ike was home for me.  “Soon, I hope.”  I could see the driver coming back across the street.  “I have to go-”

“So soon?”  My eyes fluttered closed at the longing I heard.  “Liz, I don’t know how my trip is going to play out, but give me a week, please call me back?”  

“I’ll try,”  I watched as the driver looked around the diner for me.  “I have to go, I love you.”  It was a whisper, and I nearly missed him saying it back, but then I hung up and came out, leaving the cup behind.  “Are you looking for me?”  The driver looked relieved that he found me.  “Ladies’,” I explained, happy that he wasn’t paying attention to where I’d come from, since he led me to the car and back to my grandfather’s house.

My first official Seder.  My first official Berman family event.  My first time at the center of my family.  And it went off without a hitch.  I managed to make the table look as flawless as was expected, the best for the occasion.  I’d handed out each person’s recitations, starting everyone and once everything was completed, I felt myself let out a long breath that I had been holding for days, or so it seemed.  

“That’s my Lizzie,” I heard Pop-Pop saying to a man I hadn’t noticed arriving, so caught up in my preparations and worry.  “Come here, sweetheart,” a gesture for me to greet another unknown person.  “Elizabeth, this is Arthur, Arthur my Lizzie.”  I took the older man’s hand and smiled in greeting.  “Arthur Goldberg, sweetheart, he’s done great things for unions.  And he’s being eyed for a place in-” Arthur chuckled and shook his head.  “He’s modest.  Arthur is a good guy to have on your side, Lizzie, great things are gonna come for him.  And he’s family.”  

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Goldberg,” Arthur, he insisted.  “Arthur.”  I felt a flash of pain thinking about Ike’s father.  “I’m happy you could join us for-”

“Her first Seder,” Pop-Pop bragged, and I felt myself glow with pride.  “She’s a natural, isn’t she?”  

I spent the following days falling back into my new routine.  Running Pop-Pop’s house, taking care of the domestic side of his life, something Minnie told me that my aunts had taken turns in doing before I’d come along.  I worried, though I didn’t let it show, that I would be expected to stay.  To take care of him, his house, and his world without any further mention of Ike.  

We’d just sat down to a family dinner, Pop-Pop, me, Minnie, Selma, and Annie when the phone rang.  Phone calls were usually ignored during dinner, a house rule and no one had broken it thus far.  A whispered conversation from one of Pop-Pop’s people, a glance at me, and he was excusing himself to take the call.  

My hand was shaking as I took up my glass of water, and I couldn’t understand the source of my worry.  What could a phone call do, other than tell him what was going on in Miami, something so horrible that he’d rush to take it while going against his own rule?  I set the glass down without taking a drink, feeling the fear and worry bubbling in my stomach, something that hadn’t happened as often since my call with Ike.  

“Excuse me,” a muttered offering as I rushed to the nearest bathroom and lost everything I’d managed to take in so far.  I stayed on the floor, waiting for the fear and roiling to stop, waiting for the tiny Evans inside of me to understand that we were powerless about what we didn’t know, but we had to wait.  Had to stay calm, had to believe that it would get better.  

“Liz,” it was Pop-Pop’s voice, muffled through the door.  “Honey, are you alright?”  

I flushed and rinsed my mouth, thinking a cup of tea and bed was in my very near future.  But first, when I opened the door, I was told that Pop-Pop was planning on a trip back to Miami, a trip that I was not invited to accompany him on.  

Ike and my grandfather, one more thing that I realized belatedly that I hadn’t shared with him.  The identity of Pop-Pop, of the family I’d told him I learned about.  He was meeting Pop-Pop without knowing WHO he was in relation to me.  And I told my grandfather this, but I doubted that he would give Ike the benefit of any doubt.  

“If you say so, Lizzie,” he muttered, kissing my forehead as he followed his driver to the car.  “I’ll let you know when I land.”  A blown kiss and then he was gone.  

Knowing that Ike had called, even if I didn’t have confirmation that it was him, meant that I had to call him.  Waiting until a time of day that he’d be at work, and before Pop-Pop’s flight would land was a small window of time, but I felt safe calling from the house.  I had to.  To give him some warning, to tell him who Sy Berman was, and why their meeting could end badly.  For everyone.

I was put through, using a similar ruse, and felt the tension release from me when I heard his voice.  He was telling people to leave the office, that he needed a moment, and then I heard him say my name and I felt the same flutter that I’d always feel when his voice and attention was directed at me.  

“Ike,” he started to speak, but I cut him off.  “Sy is my grandfather.”  It came from me in a rush, but I didn’t know when their meeting was, but he had to know.  “I never thought you’d want to-”

“Slow down, Liz,” he sounded calm, far calmer than me.  “Your grandpa, is Sy?”  I made a small noise of agreement.  “Why are you so worried, sweetheart?  You told him-”

“Everything,” I whispered, feeling eyes and ears on me and wishing I’d gone to the diner to make the call.  “You and me.  Vera.  My condition.”  

“Have you told him that V and I are done?”  I was gasping.  “He doesn’t know you called me?”  

“No one is supposed to know where I am, Ike,”  not even you, I thought.  “I thought he’d be angry or disappointed that I’d given into temptation and called.”  I sighed past the feeling of being sick, my fear returning.  “He knows I love you, but he doesn’t trust how you feel about me, Ike.  He thinks, once you made bail-”

His turn to sigh. “V- Our reunion, he found out.”  I heard noises on his end that sounded like him lighting a cigarette and when he exhaled I knew I was correct.  “Shit, Liz, how do I make this right?”  

I leaned against the wall next to the phone.  “I don’t know.  Flattery?  Tell him how much you care about me, but I told him that you don’t know he’s related to me, so subtly?”  I wasn’t sure.  All I knew was that Ike had to make sure that he didn’t get on the wrong side of Pop-Pop, because even The Butcher feared him, and that alone should be all the warning he needed.