#I do love that you can tell I slowly figured out how to draw mice as I went along

[myattman]

can I offer you some atla (but they're mice) in these trying times

(click for better quality | individual characters under the cut)

[sunlightandsuffering]

Okay but I’ve been thinking, does Mikasa ever sign the cast???

Omg i love it okay 11/10 she does, but like Erne doesn't ask her and she's so upset about it WHY DO I LOVE THIS!!

Mikasa sits in the corner of the bar sipping her vodka soda sullenly, she keeps telling herself she's not upset.

But she's upset.

There's absolutely no good reason she should be angry, absolutely none, if anything she has the most claim to fame as far as Eren's broken arm goes, she's the one who broke it! And she'd told an entire group of girls that quite proudly, chasing them off from flirting with him.

But at the same time, as yet another girl signs his cast, giggling excitedly, the space available on the white plaster shrinking with every signature, she can't help but feel a little miffed, a little upset that her signature won't be on there.

And maybe it's more than miffed as Eren gets a cheek kiss from the girl who's just signed it 'Mackenzie' with a flirty little heart at the end. The pit in her stomach has opened up and she feels the frustrating pinch of tears in her eyes as she watches Eren marvel over the girl's signature, his good hand slipping down to cup the girl's ass, and now she just feels acute rage, she wants desperately to break his only good arm. Eren has always brought up a lot of emotions within her, that's obvious, but this cast seems to be the catalyst for some reason dn for the life of her she can't figure out why she cares so much about the dwindling space for signatures.

But she does, and it won't go away.

She wants to sign his cast, wants to write her name is pretty elegant script, draw a little heart at the end with a knife through it.

She takes another long swig of her vodka before standing up abruptly, she wants to sign Eren's cast.

She slinks over to him, nervous, out of her element, they usually don't interact at the bar, not until they leave at least, heading towards the back room, their favourite stomping grounds, but tonight she doesn't have time to wait.

Every signature is another nail in her coffin and soon there won't be any room left, between all of Eren's groupies, and his friend's signatures, she's losing time fast.

The girls scatter from him like mice as she appears at his table, and Eren scowls as soon as she appears while Armin gives her a friendly nod. "Mikasa," Eren greets, spitting her name like an insult and she sighs, how the fuck is she going to do this?

"Eren," she smarts right back, unable to control her temper at just the sound of his voice, God he grates on her nerves.

"Can I help you with something?" He asks, an elegant eyebrow arched as he sips on his beer. "No," Mikasa sniffs and Eren gives her an incredulous look, "You just scared off my lay for the night and you don't need anything?" His lay for the night? Mikasa fumes, she was under the impression that she would be his lay for the night, had been craving it actually, she needed a good dicking down and if nothing else Eren was good at that.

"I thought I was doing her a favour." Eren gives a dirty look, scoffing, "Whatever, she'll be back I'm sure of it, so if you would be so kind," he gestures back towards her table, but she can't leave so easily, she will get what she wants. "How's the broken arm?" She ignores him entirely, prodding at the cast slightly with her fingertip, "I'm surprised you didn't get a bright yellow cast, it would fit your maturity level a little more." Eren glares at her murderously, yanking the cast back, and Mikasa resists the urge to pout as her fingers snatch for the black sharpie lying innocently on the table. "I don't exactly think bright yellow would have gone over well in our line of work MIkasa." She shrugs, her fingers already slipping to grab his arm while she distracts him with casual barbs about his appearance, "I think bright yellow would have matched your obnoxious personality quite well." Eren looks utterly affronted, his attention completely on her face as she slowly begins writing her signature, her touch light so he won't notice. "Fuck you Ackerman I'll have you know a lot of girls like my-Hey!" Eren yells as he finally notices her writing the beginnings of her signature, snatching his arm back before she can stop him. She pouts as she toys with the sharpie, she'd been so close too, just a few more letters. "What the fuck?" Eren complains as he looks over the spot she's marked. "It's only fair," Mikasa tells him casually, "I broke it, figured I should sign it. "Well you're not finishing your signature," Eren tells her petulantly and Mikasa wilts a little, she needs to finish.

"C'mon," she says, trying to maintain her cool facade but it's immensely difficult when this is her mortal enemy and all she wants is to finish signing his cast, declare her proper ownership and fucking leave.

Eren looks her over, a curious gleam in his eyes as he registers the whiny tone in her voice, "Do you want to sign it?" "No," Mikasa denies, but her hands still itch to grab his arm back, just three more letters.

Eren smiles at her smugly, "You know if you wanted to sign my cast, you could've just asked nicely sweets."

Mikasa bares her teeth, retorting back, "Don't make me break your other arm."

Eren's grin remains, all too smug and she fucking hates it, but he slides his arm over for her to continue signing. "Well then, I'd really need you to help me wouldn't I 'Kasa, I can't get myself off with no hands." She can feel her cheeks heat with the suggestion as she reluctantly finishes off her signature. She refuses to admit how she's already wondered about this. She knows Eren is right hand dominant, he's already struggled with using his left hand for his gun, working at becoming ambidextrous, but god, she knows what Eren's packing in his pants, knows it intimately, and she doesn't think she'd mind helping him if she broke both of his arms. He's so fucking smug though, insufferable as he notices the slight pink tint to her cheeks, he leans in to nibble at her ear, "Do you wanna go to the backroom Miki?"

She says nothing, refusing to admit defeat, just grabs his good arm, dragging him away.

Good sex is good sex, that's what she tells herself as they walk towards the backroom. She finds she's in a substantially better mood as Eren's good hand grips her ass, knowing her signature is on his cast, marking him as her's, but for the life of her she can't figure out why. Must be the sex, there's no other explanation.

[elsaclack]

more than you know

There’s a chink in the old stained glass window in the building across the street.

Jake’s made a habit of staring at it whenever he’s perched in the windowsill in their living room - a perch he’s found himself visiting more and more often over the last few weeks, a perch he only discovered a mere eight months ago after living in this apartment for more than 2 years.  There’s nothing particularly special about it - nothing particularly comfortable, either, if he’s being honest - but he’s had this image in his head for more years than he’d care to confess, of his wife, untamed hair up in a half-hearted way that screams more utility than style, nose buried in a book, framed in a window seat against a sky speckled with brilliant hues of blue and orange and pink.

(Since she was nothing more than a colleague, he’s had this mental image, born after a very long night that ended with him driving the two of them back to the precinct from a scene across town; she’d pulled a book from her work bag in his back seat and read the whole way back, the atmosphere soft and comfortable despite the silence, and when he’d glanced at her from the driver’s seat her silhouette was set against the just-peaking rays of the morning sunrise.)

He’s had this image, but her apartment let him down, because she doesn’t have a window seat full of overstuffed pillows and luxurious throw blankets like he’d imagined; she has a thin wooden windowsill, off-white paint chipped on one corner after a day of shifting furniture, and it’s hardly wide enough to even count as a perch because he’s found that if he stays there any longer than five minutes his butt starts to go numb.

There’s a chink in the old stained glass window in the building across the street, and Jake can see it all the way from here if he tilts his head and squints his eyes and the lighting outside is just right.  It looks to be roughly the same size and shape as a credit card from here, though he’s certain that if he were to get up close and personal with it, it would probably be closer in size to his hand; he’s been studying it closely for quite some time, from his perch on the windowsill.

He settles there in the early evening one Sunday, body turned at just the right angle, left foot planted on the floor to keep his balance.  The window is warm where it’s pressed against his right arm, but he can hardly feel it; his attention remains, as it has unfailingly for the last several weeks, on the squirming bundle in his arms.

(Who knew either he or Amy was genetically capable of producing such a chonk of a baby?)

“What’s it gonna be tonight, little man?” he asks softly of his son.  Mac ignores him, a disquieted grunt escaping his throat as he works to escape his swaddle.  “Have I told you about the three mouseketeers escaping the evil Lord Fluffytail?  Oh, it was a crazy night, three little mice went tip, tip, tip” he punctuates each word with a gentle tap over Mac’s arm “through Lord Fluffytail’s castle to find the golden cheese, and right as they found it, they were caught! Lord Fluffytail tried to catch them, he chased them all over the castle up to the attic, and right before he finally caught them, they escaped!  They broke the window and escaped down the gutter, and look!  You can still see the spot where they escaped!” 

He twists and angles his arm and points to the window across the street, but Mac appears utterly uninterested; his disgruntled grunts are increasing in frequency and volume, and Jake sighs, letting his shoulders slump slightly as he turns back to his original position.  “Not feelin’ storytime tonight, huh, buddy?  That’s okay.  What do you wanna talk about?”

Mac grunts again - this one dangerously close to an actual cry.

“Okay, okay, sh,” Jake gently pats Mac’s back, ignoring the chubby feet pressing hard against his arm through the blanket.  “What do you wanna talk about, bud?  Wanna talk about how bad the Mavs are?  Wanna talk about mashed peas?  Wanna talk about mommy?”

It could be coincidence - it could be happenstance - but the creases between Mac’s brows seem to smooth out by a fraction the moment Jake says “mommy.”

“Okay, yeah, we can talk about mommy,” Jake says, shifting his position so that his back is pressed against the window behind him.  “She’s the prettiest mommy in the whole world, huh?  The prettiest and the smartest, and she loves you so much Mac-man.”

Mac grunts again, brow furrowed, the tip of his tongue only just visible between his lips.  Jake smiles, adjusting his grip around Mac, the beginnings of a new story forming in his mind.

“Once upon a time, there was a very bad lady who wanted to do very bad things.  She cheated and she lied and she stole - but worst of all, she made other people get in trouble for all the bad things that she did.  Daddy and Tia Rosa decided that they were going to stop the bad lady, only the bad lady knew what daddy and Tia Rosa were going to do, and she got them in trouble for more bad things that she did!  Daddy and Tia Rosa were sad, because they didn’t do anything wrong but they still had to go to ja- time-out.”  He clears his throat, and Mac continues squirming.  “Mommy worked so hard, she figured out how to show people that daddy and Tia Rosa didn’t do anything wrong, and that the bad lady was the one who was wrong - Mommy rescued daddy from time-out, because mommy loves daddy.  And then, mommy and daddy had you, and they lived happily ever after.”

“I don’t remember reading that one in the modern fairy tale anthology,” says a soft voice from the doorway.

Grinning, Jake glances up to find Amy leaning against the doorway to the hall, her house robe tied haphazardly around her waist.  It’s clear she’s only been awake from her afternoon nap for a matter of minutes; slowly, rubbing sleep out of one eye, she shuffles toward them.  “It’s in the updated edition,” Jake murmurs, returning his attention to Mac.  “I’ll have to let you borrow my copy.”

Amy hums as she draws up beside him, offering him a warm-but-distracted smile when he glances up at her.  She slides one hand down his back and back up again, nails scratching gently over his shirt, before finding purchase on his shoulder.  “Why do you sit here?” she asks after a moment of comfortable quiet.  “There’s a couch, like, five feet away.”

“I know,” he shrugs, “I just like the window seat better.”

She hums again, reaching down to adjust Mac’s swaddle, and Mac’s grunt trails into a growl as she pulls her hand back.  “Well, someone’s grumpy.”

“Melody Hawkins can do that to a person.”

Amy hums, scratching his back distractedly.  “Remember when you thought you might be bad at this?” she asks softly.

He snorts.  “Considering I had that thought about two minutes ago - yeah, I remember.”

“How could you tell that story and still have that thought?”  He turns his head to find her looking at him earnestly, not a single trace of humor in her eyes.  “How could you talk about being good and right - about being scared to be in time-out because you didn’t deserve it - Jake -”

“Hey, being a good cop doesn’t automatically make me good at this -”

“You’re right.  It doesn’t.  But that’s not the point, Jake - listen to me.  That was not a story about a good cop.  That was a story about a good person.  That was a story about doing the right thing and being a good person, even when faced with a person and a system that is designed to be the opposite of that.  That was a story about a guy who did what was right and who continues to do what’s right, and that has absolutely nothing to do with any stupid badge.  In case you forgot, Melody Hawkins was wearing the same badge.”  She pauses, letting the words sink in, rubbing his back all the while.  “I asked you if you remember when you thought you would be bad at this because seeing you like this - seeing you with him, seeing you love him - it just seems so silly to me that you ever doubted yourself.  And if you don’t believe me, just ask him.”

Mac’s gazing up at him now - Jake hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped squirming - and when Jake meets his eyes, the ghost of a smile curves the features of Mac’s face.  Amy’s hand gently combs through Jake’s curls as she presses a kiss to his temple, and Jake swallows hard against the sudden lump in his throat.  “You’re a good father, Jake.  You’re a good father and a good husband, too.  Your job title’s got nothing to do with it.”

She straightens up and pulls away; Jake watches her make her way toward the kitchen, unable to tamp down the grin blossoming across his face.  “I don’t normally tell him cop stories,” he says off-handedly as she sets about making tea.  “I usually read to him.  Or I make up stories about the hole in that window across the street.”

Amy pauses, stooping down so that he can see her bewildered expression beneath the cabinets.  “The one in the stained glass window?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my nephew broke that a few years ago.  He found that super bouncy ball you lost in my car and was bouncing it out on the street, but he hit one of the reflectors on the actually street and it shot off at an angle -”

“Are you telling me that I indirectly broke that window?  Me?  I did that?  I’ve been making up stories to tell him since, like, a month after the positive test!”

[vaguelyrotten]

Like a Lily in a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter 6

Alec had chosen to approach on foot. He wasn’t sure how the people in this unknown town would react to a stranger but slow, steady, and with great care seemed to be the ideal way to go. He’d draw less attention on foot and could easily blend in with a crowd if needed. Observe first, his father’s voice repeated in his head. Observe your target and then come up with a plan of attack.

The town was far too quiet as he approached. This time of day, children should be running home for dinner and shops should be closing. Alec frowned, his senses instantly on high alert.

Something was wrong here. It was very, very, very wrong.

The silence had him reaching for the knife that he’d slipped into his belt as he slowly made his way through the apparently deserted town. He kept to the edge, slowly moving against the row of shops in the center of town and keeping his back against the wall. There was nothing here. No sign of people, no sign of life.

It was like the entire town mysteriously...vanished.

A creak from his right startled him and he sent up a silent prayer that he’d managed not to make a sound in his surprise. It had only been a door, swinging open on abused hinges as it caught the wind that had been blowing gently through the street. It was odd that it hadn’t been locked — appearing to be the entrance to someone’s home — but thus far everything about this town had been odd.

He pushed the door open and poked his head inside. “Hello?” He called quietly, straining his eyes to focus in the darkened room. “Is anyone home?”

No response came, but Alec hadn’t really been expecting one. He stepped inside and let the door click quietly behind him. “Hello?” He tried again, this time a little bit louder, as he took his first tentative steps into the foyer. “Your door was open...are you alright?”

Still no response. Alec stepped into the sitting room and tugged a curtain open, giving himself a little more light as he investigated further. He really should go back and get Magnus. Who knew what dangers were lurking in a strangely deserted town?

Just a quick look at the first floor for any sign of what happened. After that, he’d go get Magnus.

The sitting room was dusty and empty. There was no sign of an apparent struggle though it did look like the house had been picked over by thieves. Artwork was missing from the walls where the discoloration in the wallpaper showed where paintings had once been hanging. A few books were tossed carelessly to the floor like someone had been moving them aside to look for far more valuable trinkets.

Finding nothing else of interest, Alec continued to move through the first floor of the house, room by room, until he reached the kitchen. There was a horrid stench coming from behind the door and he pulled his shirt up over his nose to try and block some of the strongest odors. Afraid to find out what he would find behind the heavy oaken door, he pushed.

The smell hit him first, nearly making him gag and bringing tears to his eyes. It wasn’t a corpse, by some small miracle, but a long-forgotten meal that had been abandoned halfway through the cooking process. There were side-dishes on the table that no longer resembled anything close to edible and the carcass of some sort of bird, perhaps a goose, that appeared to have been picked clean by mice and other small scavengers.

So whoever had lived in this house hadn’t planned to disappear without a trace. Why go to all the trouble to prepare a meal if you weren’t going to eat it? He coughed, trying to keep the smell out of the back of his throat and made his way further into the room. In a darkened corner of the room was a small table and…

Alec felt ice cross his heart.

There was someone at the table.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He asked, knowing that with the state (and smell) of the rest of the room, there was no way that whoever it was was okay. There was a very good chance that the body at the table was nothing more than a corpse.

The figure was hunched over the table, her head resting on her hand and her eyes closed as if she’d just briefly taken a seat to rest in the middle of cooking dinner. Unlike the food, the woman — the housekeeper or the cook, most likely — seemed to be frozen in time. She wasn’t decaying or mummified. Her skin looked pristine if not a little grey…

Oh.

Oh no.

He bent down to get a closer look. Her skin wasn’t just grey… it was stone. “Fuck,” he muttered, gently brushing the back of the woman’s hand with shaking fingers to confirm his suspicions.

He needed to get Magnus. He needed to get Magnus now.

He dashed back through the house and out the front door, no longer worried about disturbing someone or getting caught. The strange quietness of the town, the state that house had been in… the illness that had taken over Idris had hit here too...and it seemed it hadn’t left a single person unaffected.

He hadn’t even known there was a town on this side of the woods, let alone one affected by the illness that had been plaguing his town over the last few months. It was a very real look at what the future of Idris was if they didn’t find a cure.

And soon.

“Magnus!” He shouted, once he was close enough to see the purple ribbons hanging from the trees that signified the outer edge of the half-goblin’s wards. “Magnus!”

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, turning with wide eyes as Alec skidded to a stop next to the crackling blue fire that had been started. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he huffed, bending to put his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. “But — you need to come quick. The town —“

“Alec, calm down. I told you, I can’t go to town. What’s the matter?”

“Magnus, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. There’s no one there. It’s nearly a ghost town. I found a house where the door was left open. Inside was a disaster...almost like it had been looted? But that’s not the point. The kitchen was a nightmare. There was rotten and decaying food like someone had left in the middle of cooking the meal, and Angel did it reek but there was a woman sitting at the table and her skin was stone. I think the illness has taken over the entire town...like it’s doing to Idris.” He panted, trying to get the words out in between gasping breaths. Angel, why was he so tired?

Magnus blinked, his eyes growing even wider at Alec’s statement. “The entire town?”

Alec nodded, standing and grabbing the half-goblin’s hand to lead him back in the direction he’d come. “I saw no one outside of the one woman in the house I’d poked around in. This time of day the shops should have been closing up, kids should have been outside playing...there was nothing but silence. I thought it was odd so I wanted to take a closer look before I came and found you. I never expected to find that.”

“This town is by the river too…” Magnus replied, letting Alec quickly pull him back towards the brick houses. “In fact, it’s probably their main source of water...this close to the spring, whatever was poisoning the water would have been stronger and more potent. Who knows how long they would have been stuck like this…”

“The good news is that they aren’t dead. Like the people back in Idris, they’re… in stasis almost. However, it paints a grim picture if we can’t figure out what’s going on and stop it...and then find a cure.”

Magnus didn’t reply. Instead, following Alec into the house on the main street, hesitating only briefly in the doorway before stepping inside. He wandered through the maze of rooms as the rancid smell from the kitchen grew closer and closer. “Come on, this way.”

Once inside, Magnus flicked his wrist and two glowing balls of light emerged from his fingers and hovered in front of us.”It’ll give us more light — especially as the sun is now setting.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You certainly weren’t kidding about the smell.”

“Who knows how long this stuff has been rotting,” Alec replied, steering them around the large table to the small one in the back corner of the room. “Come on, she’s over here.” He knelt down so he could get a better look at the woman’s peaceful face as Magnus cast his diagnostic spells.

“Well,” The half-goblin said after a few moments, withdrawing the familiar blue aura of his magic and glancing around the room. “It definitely is the same as whatever is tainting the river. Is she the only one or have you found others?”

Alec shook his head. “I haven’t gone farther than the first floor and I came to get you as soon as I found her. We can take a quick peek upstairs to see if there’s anyone there...but I’m guessing we would certainly find others who have fallen ill if we opened the door of any house in this town. It’s… empty.”

Magnus didn’t wait for Alec to lead the way, following the twisting hallways back to the foyer and the staircase at the front of the house. He took the stairs two at a time and jogged down the hallway to the larger room at the end, skidding to a stop right before the door. If, by some miracle, there was an alive and conscious human in what he was assuming was the master bedroom, then letting himself into the room, especially after essentially breaking into the house, could be incredibly dangerous.

Here he was, once again, possibly risking his life for this sweet human boy that stumbled into the forest looking for hope.

Magnus really wanted to give him hope. Hope and happiness and love...oh, the things Alexander was doing to him. He didn’t know the effect he was having on the four hundred year-old half-goblin. One day, when this was all said and done, Magnus would really like to show him.

Alec stepped up beside him, twisting the knob and letting the door swing open with a creak. The room was dark, but Magnus’ magic orbs of light were still following them so they took a step inside. Once they were close enough, Magnus could clearly see that there were two figures lying prone on the bed.

“I’m guessing we found the owners of the house,” Alec muttered under his breath, stepping close enough to illuminate the sleeping figures. Much like the woman downstairs, their skin was hard and ashen. They were both lying on top of the quilt fully dressed in their Sunday best like they had just sat down for a few minutes before they succumbed to the illness.

With the exception of the rancid food that had been left out, it was nearly like this entire house, and, Magnus was willing to guess, the entire town had been frozen in time. He waved his fingers, a steady stream of blue spilling from his fingers once more, and let his magic take a closer look.

Like with the woman downstairs, he felt the same wrongness that he’d felt first in the river and then in his quick diagnosis of Alec the night before. Whatever was in the river was too diluted to really get a good grasp on what exactly the poison was but what he felt in Alec had been a seed — young, dangerous, and eager to take root. What Magnus found in these people was more like an ancient tree whose taproots extended so deep into the earth it would take a force of nature to end it.

He opened his mouth to reply but the heavy front door downstairs swung open with a forceful thump, causing them both to jump. Magnus held his breath, trying to push the fear and negativity out of his mind until they had more information. There was nothing but silence for a few tense moments before the sound of boots echoed on the floorboards downstairs.

Alec held up a finger, taking a few cautious steps closer to the bedroom door and peaking through the crack that he’d left. “This place has been mostly picked over already. I don’t know why he’s got us coming back. I doubt we’re gonna find any more gold and gems in a place like this.”

“It’s not just about gold and gems, you moron.” A second voice answered, though it was muffled by the door and the distance between them. “Anything that could be useful to his campaign...weapons, old family heirlooms that might be magical, land deeds, military intelligence...we’ve found all sorts of shit in these trashy little towns.”

“Yeah but we’ve already been here twice this month. If we were gonna find any of that stuff, we would have done so by now. This is just a waste of our time.”

“Quit your whining, Victor. It’s not like you have anything better to do anyway...and it’s better to be safe than sorry. I, for one, don’t want to be on the other side of Valentine’s temper. Go check the cellar again.I’m going to take a poke around upstairs.”

They heard the thump thump thump of a man trudging his way upstairs and Magnus glanced at Alec with real fear in his eyes. He had his magic, of course. He could defend himself if need be, but they still didn’t know who these men were or how they were armed...not to mention, Magnus was still a half-breed monster in a very human town where he was not supposed to be.

Alec glanced between the door and the window before pulling Magnus to the other side of the room and pushing open the glass. A quick glance outside had Alec hissing as he watched another small group of men stroll down the street, pushing in doors or peeking in windows. This situation had just gotten very dangerous very quickly and they didn’t have time to dwell on it.

They needed to get out.

Now.

Beside the window was a drainpipe and Alec reached around and gave it a good shake as the boots on the stairs came closer and closer. “I assume you can climb considering I first met you while you were halfway up a tree,” Alec asked, already shoving the half-goblin in the direction of the window. Magnus merely nodded, bracing himself on Alec’s shoulder as he climbed on the windowsill and reached for the drainpipe. “Good, then go up. Stay low on the rooftops.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to buy us a little extra time and then I’m going to follow you,” Alec replied, already glancing around the room for what he could use to put his plan into motion. Magnus hesitated and Alec tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Go, Magnus. I’ll be fine, I promise. Like I said, I’ll be right behind you. I wouldn’t lie about that.” He left Magnus to his climb and disappeared back into the room.

The stepswere louder now, echoing in the hallway instead of on the stairs, pausing every once in a while to open the doors that Alec and Magnus had walked right past earlier. He’d noticed a wooden dresser across from the bed when they walked in and he was planning on using that to help stall the men. He knew that he barely had a minute before the bedroom door would open and he would be caught. He needed to act quickly.

Biting back a grunt of effort, he managed to get the dresser to slide a few inches, but he needed it to move at least a few feet. The man in the hallway paused, the sound of the wood grinding against wood having caught his attention, and Alec knew that his time was up. It was now or never. He leaned all of his weight against the dresser and pushed.

The dresser slid across the floor, protesting every bit of the way, but thankfully it didn’t have to go far. When it was finally in place in front of the door, Alec paused for only half a second to make sure it was truly where it needed to be before bolting towards the window.

The man in the hallway had finally realized that he wasn’t alone and had bolted to the end of the hallway. The bedroom door rattled as he tried to push it open, stopped entirely by the dresser that Alec had just pushed in its way. The man shouted — screaming at whoever was in the room to open the door and for his partner who had gone to the cellar — as Alec reached out the window for the drainpipe and began to climb.

The roof wasn’t far; it was only a two story house with an attic, but the drainpipe was smooth with very few foot- or handholds. Alec had never been the best climber in his family — that had been his sister who somehow always to find a way to be exactly where she was never meant to be — but he did have the benefit of pretty decent upper body strength thanks, mostly, to the archery training he’d had when he was younger and had kept up with after he had moved to Alicante.

Magnus was laying on his stomach at the top, having listened to Alec’s order to stay low. The half-goblin grabbed the back of Alec’s jacket and helped pull him the rest of the way up. He lay panting on the terracotta tiles, listening to the shouts of the two men still in the house. They’d give up, eventually, and would call for back-up. Once that happened, Magnus’ magic or not, they would be outnumbered.

They still needed to get out of here.

Out of this town; out of the woods. They needed to put some distance between themselves and Valentine’s men.

Valentine, he recalled, shuddering at the name. He’d have to dwell more on that when they were out of danger. That was a problem for much later in their evening.

“Come on,” he replied tiredly, pushing himself to his feet but remaining in a crouch. “We need to get moving. The dresser in front of the door trick will only work so long before the men get smart. We need to be long gone by the time that happens.” He hadn’t really planned farther than ‘get out of the room and onto the roof’ nor had he been paying too much attention to what was above him when he’d first entered the town but he was praying that the architecture of this town was similar to what it was in Idris.

Close, slanted roofs to help hide them as they moved from housetop to housetop, chimneys to hide them if they suspected they were about to be seen, and a few well placed balconies to help them get down far more gracefully than they’d gotten up...that was what Alec was hoping to see.

He crawled to the edge of the roof, paying particular attention to any tiles that looked loose so that they didn’t draw the attention of the other men that he’d seen below, and let out a sigh of relief when the next roof over appeared to be no more than six feet from where they were currently sitting. Six feet...that was laughably doable almost.

“How do you feel about jumping?” He asked, even though Magnus’ response didn’t really matter. They had one way off of this roof without going back in through the house and that was getting across to the other’s roof.

“I don’t terribly mind the jumping, it’s the falling that I don’t think too highly of.” Magnus replied, glancing down at the cobblestones below with wide eyes.

“You’ve got magic if you fall at least,” Alec replied, taking a few steps to the left where the tiles on the other side looked a bit more secure. “I just have to rely on the fact that I’ve done this a time or two before. One rooftop is just like all the others.” Except the last time he’d done this he’d been twelve and mostly fearless; and he and Jace had been running from a woman in the market because Jace had stolen a pomegranate from her stall. Alec had been innocent but if Jace ran, Alec didn’t want to be left taking the fall for his brother’s messes. Miraculously, they had managed not to kill themselves even though it had taken them an extra half an hour to get home that way. Unfortunately, the woman had beat them to their house and his mother had been waiting for them when they got home.

“Are you telling me that your particularly cautious self has taken an alternate route through the city just for the hell of it? I find that hard to believe.”

Alec laughed softly and took two steps back to give himself a bit of a running start, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Something like that — maybe if you catch me, I’ll even tell you the tale.” He took two long steps and leaped, landing gracefully on the other side of the gap. Magnus gaped, looking between the two rooftops. Alec stood with a smirk, raising an eyebrow in jest.

Magnus finally seemed to get over his nerves and joined the game as he took a running leap and landed not quite as gracefully on the other side, sending a tile crashing to the ground. Alec grabbed his arm to keep him from meeting the same fate, and they both listened as one of the men looting the town raised the alarm. “Well, come on then. We best be getting a move on if we hope to outrun them. Catch me if you can.”

From that point on, it was a game. Alec nearly forgot that they were trying to outrun Valentine’s men, get to their horses, and get the hell out of dodge before they got caught. Magnus’ movements got more fluid when he stopped worrying about being not-so-human caught in a very human town and when he forgot that one misstep could send him hurtling to the ground below.

It was fun.

Alec slid to a stop at the end of the last roof, having long since stopped worrying about giving their position away. Once the first tile had fallen, all attempts at stealth had gone out the window. The slanted roofs, the chimneys, everything had gone according to plan. Except this. He’d been counting on another drainpipe or a balcony or a tiered roof...something at the edge of the very last house to help them get down. He hadn’t been counting on there being nothing.

Magnus glanced behind them as the men got closer to the location and looked back at the trees surrounding the town. “Do you trust me?” He asked, his golden eyes brighter than normal in the setting sun and his hand already outstretched towards the treeline.

“Of course I do,” Alec replied, wondering to himself what kind of question was that? Of course, he trusted Magnus...just as much as he’d trust Jace or Izzy.

The half-goblin grinned and twisted his hand, a steady stream of magic leaving his fingers and disappearing into the woods. The nearest tree creaked, it’s branches twisting and growing rapidly until they were mere inches from the edge of the roof. “Let’s go.” Magnus stepped onto the branch and walked down it as quickly as he could manage without losing balance. Alec heard the men turn onto the nearest street and followed suit.

Once into the woods, they were in Magnus’ playground now. This might not be Edom Forest, but Magnus’ magic was made of the very heart and soul of the forest. From every flower and tree to every bird and bee, they all carried the same spark. Magnus could pull on that now to keep them out of the situation they currently found themselves in.

They jumped off of the tree once they were safely in the forest and darted to where the horses were waiting. There was a shout from behind them as the first of the men reached the trees. Alec nearly threw himself onto Flame’s back, and he watched as Magnus did the same to Elias. Once they had both safely mounted, they took off deeper into the woods. The half-goblin thrust his hand out behind them and Alec twisted in his saddle to watch as thorny vines emerged from the ground to twist themselves around the feet of their pursuers.

“Do you have a plan?” He shouted, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the horses crashing through the undergrowth.

“Not really! I figure if we can get away from the river and put some distance between us and them, that’s a pretty good place to start. We’ll have to set up camp in the dark, but it’s better than the alternative.” Magnus replied, glancing back in the direction that they’d come from to make sure the vines were doing their job and slowing the men down.

The rest of their ride was silent. Alec followed Magnus’ lead, trusting that half-goblin’s sense of direction since he himself had never been in this part of the forest. Magnus brought Elias to a slow walk as a dark shape loomed ahead of them. “It’s an old hunting cabin,” He replied, sending out a wave of blue at the house and letting his magic investigate without either of them risking detection. “Abandoned too, by the looks of it,” he added with a frown, trying to translate exactly what his magic was telling him.

Alec brought Flame to a stop and slid out of the saddle to get a closer look. The door opened with a groan of protest and he strained his eyes against the darkness of the room. It was simple — a bed, a table, some chairs, and a fireplace — but it would be a good place to stay for the night as long as Magnus thought they were safe.

“Did we lose Valentine’s men?” He asked, stepping back outside to find that Magnus had untacked Flame and had tied the gelding on a long lead around the side of the house. He carried Alec’s saddle into the house so it wouldn’t be exposed to the elements and dropped it gently by the front door.

“Between the vines and the horses, they’d need a miracle to catch up with us. We’ll be safe here for the night. We’ll leave at first light to make up for having to go so far out of our way.” He collapsed into one of the chairs and blinked wearily.

Alec frowned, crossing the room and tipping Magnus’ face up. “Are you alright? You look…”

“I’m fine, Alexander, or I will be, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help with dinner and the wards tonight,” Magnus replied with a sigh. He folded his arms across the table and rested his head on them. “My power is strongest in Edom. I’m afraid I used too much magic too quickly. I just need to rest.”

“Rest, Magnus. I think we can manage without magic tonight. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll see if I can find some game and we’ll cook dinner tonight the human way.” Magnus didn’t appear to be moving anytime soon, so Alec reached down and scooped him up. The half-goblin let out a squeak of annoyance, but his eyes were already closing as he cuddled up to Alec’s chest. “The bed has seen better days, but I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable than falling asleep at the table.” Alec explained softly as he deposited Magus on the old bed. “Rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Magnus mumbled incoherently and rolled onto his side, already losing himself to the realm of sleep. Alec watched him for a moment, wishing that there was more he could do to help Magnus recover his magic. The half-goblin opened one eye and wearily rummaged around in his pocket. “Here,” he muttered, holding out a handful of the purple ribbons. “Just… put these up. It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.”

Alec took the offered ribbons and placed them in his own pocket. When he turned his attention back to Magnus, the half-goblin had already fallen asleep. Alec bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Magnus’ forehead before he realized what he was doing. “Sleep, Magnus. Let me take care of us tonight.”

He grabbed his bow from where he’d placed it by the front door and disappeared into the night.

Two hours later, he’d managed to hang Magnus’ ribbons around the edge of the property and had managed to catch three rabbits for their dinner. Magnus had woken from his nap at some point, though he hadn’t moved from the bed. He had pushed himself into the corner and had his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped around them. “You came back,” He whispered in shock as he bolted from the bed and pulled Alec into a tight hug.

“Of course I came back; I told you that I would. I just needed to catch our dinner first.” He replied, confusion written in every line of his face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t come back?”

Magnus tensed at the question, burying his face in Alec’s chest. “Most people would,” he replied softly, his voice muffled. “I’m only as good as my magic. Right now I’m no good to anyone like this. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

“Magnus, look at me,” Alec said, pulling away just enough so that he could tilt Magnus’ face up towards him. Wide golden eyes stared back at him and Alec noticed that the half-goblin’s face was red and puffy. He’d cried while Alec had been gone, truly terrified that Alec would leave him in his weakened state. “I will never leave you, alright? We’re in this together...and even after we find a cure for this thing, I intend to stay. I love you, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus blinked, trying to process Alec’s words. “I...love you too, Alexander.”

Alec smiled and pulled Magnus into a passionate kiss. When they parted, Alec forced his attention elsewhere, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d lose himself in Magnus once more. “Not that I wouldn’t like to continue, but I’m starving. We should eat before it gets too late, and you should probably rest some more afterwards. I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“If you want to get them skinned and gutted, I’ll get a fire started,” Magnus replied, pulling on the jacket that Alec had draped over the chair when he’d first entered. “I do know how to start a fire without magic, Alec.” He replied, noticing the baffled expression on Alec’s face. “I’m not entirely useless without my magic — you don’t get to be as old as I am without learning a thing or two. I’ll go collect some firewood.”

Once they’d eaten and cleaned up, Alec steered Magnus back towards the bed. “Come on, we’ve got an early start and you still need to rest. I’ll keep watch tonight,” he stated gently, guiding the half-goblin back into a sleeping position. Magnus’ eyes were already half-closed as his head hit the pillow. Alec smiled and stepped back, intending to spend the night at the kitchen table repairing his arrows.

“Alec?” Magnus muttered even though his eyes remained close. “Stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Magnus. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“No,” The half-goblin whispered, opening his eyes just enough to glance up at Alec. “I mean stay here next to me?”

Alec found himself moving before he even had a chance to think it through. The bed creaked and dipped under him as he climbed in next to Magnus. He leaned against the headboard as the half-goblin cuddled close, a relieved smile on his face. “Sleep, Magnus. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

The Long Game ch. 4

Rayla watched on as Ezran and Callum argued.  “I’m telling you; I can talk to animals!”

Callum folded his arms. “It’s the raccoons all over again.”

“Callum!”

“No.  This is why you don’t have friends!”  Rayla’s eyes went wide at that.

“Callum!  Stop it!”  She wasn’t even sure how they had gotten in on this bizarre argument.  One minute they were enjoying their free time between lessons and the next Ezran was talking about how the horses were complaining about kissing in their stalls.  Callum hadn’t taken kindly to it, calling Ezran a liar and now, apparently, Ezran could talk to animals.  Rayla felt a headache coming on, but she also knew Ezran didn’t lie.  “Just hear him out.”  Rayla bent down to look Ezran in the eyes.  “Ez, can you prove it?”

Ezran nodded.  “The mice saw you two having conversations on your balconies.  Every night, you two talk.”

Callum shook his head. “You could have easily overheard that. My room is right next to your’s and you have a balcony, too.”

Ezran groaned.  “I’m sorry about the raccoons, OK?!  I didn’t know they were all liars, but I’m not lying!”

Rayla put her hand on Ezran’s shoulder.  “I know you believe this, Ez.”  She looked at Bait in his arms.  Ezran had always seemed hyperaware of Bait’s feelings….She took Bait and walked over to the stacks, ignoring Ezran and Callum asking what she was doing.  “OK, frog.  I’m going to tell you something nobody in this castle knows.”  Bait looked up at her with his grumpy face, but croaked in acceptance, at least, she supposed he did.  When she looked behind her and saw that the boys were still far behind them, she picked Bait up and whispered close to where she assumed his ear hole was. “My parents names were Tiadrin and Lain. My adoptive fathers called each other ‘My Heart.’”

Rayla turned back to Callum and Ezran, walking back with Bait.  She had no idea what Bait was capable of communicating, but she figured, if Ezran could understand any of this, it would convince her.  Rayla handed Bait to Ezran, and gestured for the glow toad to talk.

“What’d she do, buddy?” Ezran sighed.  Callum raised a brow, clearly wanting to know himself.  Ezran looked up and smiled.  “That’s adorable.”

“What is?” Rayla asked.

“Your dads calling each other ‘My Heart.’  That’s so romantic!”  Rayla’s eyes went wide.  Callum looked at her, waiting for her to speak, she was sure.

“He can talk to animals,” Rayla said.  Before Callum could ask, she walked away.  She was going to have to be even more careful.  If Ezran could hear the mice…she couldn’t say anything out loud. Nowhere was safe.  Rayla’s eyes went wide as her breath came out in harsh pants.  Had she slipped at any point?  Would Ezran be able to understand her mumbles to herself?  Rayla but her hand to her chest as she felt her heart beating loudly. “Oh, no…oh, no.”

“Rayla!  How you-you OK?”  Rayla looked up to see Soren, staring down at her.  “You look like Callum when he’s having an anxiety attack.”

Was that what was happening? Blood was rushing in her ears. She had already failed and now…what if they figured if out and locked her up?  They would kill her.  Callum….Callum would hate her….Why did that hurt more than anything else?  Rayla felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I’m fine,” she whispered.  She couldn’t let anyone see her be weak.  She was not weak.  She was strong and brave and she would not fail in her duty.

“You don’t look fine. Do you want me to take you to your room?”  Soren wrapped an arm around her shoulder, lifting her up.  When had she sunk to her knees on the floor?

“I said I’m fine!”  She pushed him away, putting her hand on the wall to steady herself.  “I’m fine. Thank you, Soren.”  Soren backed up, nodding at her.

“Do you want to, maybe, talk about it?  I can be an ear for you if you want.”

“No.  I’ve got it.  Just learned something that shocked me.”  Rayla walked away from Soren, ignoring his disappointed face.  She didn’t have time for his flirting, even when he was trying to be kind.  When she made it to her room, she settled on her bed and laid against the bed.  She tried counting backwards, tried working through it.  She tried a Big Feelings Time in her head, but nothing was working.  

The tears of frustration came hard and they came fast.  She was going to fail, just like her parents.  She was a failure.  This is why the guild had sent her.  They had sent her to fail, get rid of her and end her miserable bloodline.  She could feel herself spiral down deep into corners that couldn’t possible be true, but certainly felt true in the moment.  Or was it true?  Did they think she was doomed to fail?

She heard knocking on her door, but ignored it.  She didn’t want to see anyone.  “Rayla?” She turned her head to see Callum, his soft eyes staring right at her.  Rayla turned away.  She didn’t want him to see her like this.  “Soren said you were upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Leave me alone,” she whispered in her pillow.  “You wouldn’t get it.”

Instead of him leaving, he sat on the bed next to her.  “You’re right, I probably wouldn’t.”  She turned to look at him.  He smiled down at her.  Softly, hesitantly, he stroked her cheek and ran a hand through her hair.  Rayla’s breath caught in her throat.  “When my anxiety gets to be too much, I imagine my mom. It’s been so long since I’ve seen here, but she’s this calming force in my life.  I miss her, all the time.  I don’t remember my father, at all.  I just know I have his eyes and talent for art.”  Callum removed his hand, moving to the art journal he kept at his side at all times.  “Do you want to see something?”

Rayla nodded, sitting up. She rested her head on his shoulder, taking in his scent of rosemary and balsam.  He flipped through the pages until he finally landed on a picture of Sarai, Harrow, him, and Ezran.  “It’s beautiful.”

“I draw this picture every year.  I want to remember us from back then.  My mom can’t grow old anymore, but I want us to have a family portrait every year anyways.”

“You look so much like her.”

“Thanks.  It’s always a compliment when people say that.”  He was quiet as he slowly flipped the pages for her to look through.  “You missed the Jerkface Dance.”

“I did?” she whispered.

“I did the trick you did, with Bait.  Ez now knows something really embarrassing.”

“What?”

“NOPE!  It’s bad enough he knows.”  Rayla didn’t push it.  

After a few moments, she sighed.  “I felt trapped by the fact that Ezran understands the mice.  If he does, does that mean we don’t have secrets here?”

“I felt really upset about that too.  Ez said he ignores the mice and has asked them to be quiet when they know he’s there. At least, about the things they hear around the castle.  It’s too much of an invasion of privacy.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“He is.  I felt really bad for saying that’s why he doesn’t have friends.  Ez has always been a weird kid.  But, that’s not fair, is it?  He’s the future king.  No matter what he does, people are going to look at him differently.”

Rayla raised her head, turning Callum’s head to look at her.  “You’re both just doing your best.  It’s too much burden for one so young.  It’s not just him; everyone looks at you differently, too.  I heard Viren offered magic lessons.”

“Claudia did.  Primal magic since she has a primal stone.  I’m gonna learn sky magic.”

Rayla smiled.  “Do you promise, no dark magic?”

“I promise.  It’s a shortcut and all it leads to is disaster. My mother…maybe she would still be alive if dark magic hadn’t been an option in the first place.”

“Maybe.  Maybe it was her time.  Who’s to say?”

Callum stared in her eyes. “It gets worse when I look in your eyes.”

“What does?”

“That tingling something’s off.”  Rayla turned her head away, letting him go.  “I’m sorry!  That was rude!”

“No, it’s fine,” Rayla wrapped her arms around herself.  For a second, she had forgotten the spell was there.   He had looked at her like she was everything…stop, Rayla.  Just stop.  She couldn’t have him.  She turned back around, Callum still looking at her.  “Thank you.  I feel better after you told me that Ezran doesn’t heed the mice.”

“I thought that was it. But Soren wasn’t sure.  And, since he watches you so much…”

“He needs to stop.  I’m not interested.  Not my type.”

“What is your type?” It was so quiet she wasn’t sure she had heard right.

Rayla looked at him for a few moments.  “Smart, willing to admit when they’re wrong, loving, kind.”  She gulped.  “A massive dork.  Come on, we have lessons still.”  She couldn’t give him time to think about what she had just said.  If they did, what if he felt the same?  Would she throw everything away to be with Callum? Rayla turned her head to look back at Callum, hand still holding her’s.  Yes, she would give it all up if he loved her back as much as she loved him.  She could never give him a chance to.

-------------------------------------

Callum huffed as he did his fifth fulminis.  “Claudia, isn’t there any other spells?”

“You’re not ready, Callum,” she muttered.  She was watching him with a critical eye.  “You’re very quick with a primal stone, honestly.  It took me weeks to get to this level.  Dark magic was always easier.”

“Maybe I’m destined to be a sky mage?” Callum asked.  The possibilities would be endless.  

Claudia shook her head. “We were born with nothing.  That’s why we need dark magic and primal stones. Come on, try dark magic.  I’m sure you’d take to it right away.”

“No thanks,” Callum stood firm.  Claudia was always trying to tempt him with dark magic and dates these days.  He didn’t get it.  The dark magic, he could.  Claudia didn’t see just how dangerous it was yet.  But the dates, that made no sense.

“OK.  You wanna go get some jelly tarts?”  And there was the date.

“No thanks.”  Claudia nodded, not looking too torn up.  “Is Viren asking you to ask me out?”

Claudia’s back straightened, turning away from him.  “No?” It came out as a question.  “I just think you and I would be good together.”

“Yeah, while I’m in love with Rayla and you’re not even attracted to me.”  Claudia was quiet for too long.  “You know I’m in love with Rayla, right?”

“So is Soren.  Soren would be a good choice for her.  He’s always trying to impress her and his sword fighting skills are pretty good.”

Callum looked down at his feet.  That was all true.  Rayla was too cool and pretty for him.  She was his teacher and his friend, nothing more.  There’s no way he could convince someone like her that he was even an option.  “I know.  I just don’t want us both to be miserable with each other.”  Callum walked out of the room, heading towards the grounds. It was almost time for his lesson with Rayla.  He saw her facing off against Soren.  As always, it was clear as day that Rayla was the superior one with a weapon.  She dodged and flowed like it was a dance, sweeping the leg effortlessly when she got bored of the match.  

Callum saw that the crown guards around them were nursing injuries of their own.  Rayla had probably gone through the lot of them.  She finally swatted Soren’s sword out of his hand, putting the tip to his chin.  “I win.” Her voice was crisp and clear, turning to look at the lot of the other guards.  “He lasted longer than all of you.  Do not forget that he is the head of the crown guard for a reason.  You all need to stop making jokes about how a tiny girl keeps beating him.  I think I remember Queen Sarai being the former general and incredibly skilled with a spear.  Also, isn’t General Amaya a woman?”    

One of the guards looked disgruntled.  “You’re a slip of a thing and you’re so good.”

“I’ve got a lot of toned muscle.  I prioritize speed over bulk.  It’s not that complicated.”  Rayla looked over at him, as if she had known he was there the whole time.  Had she?  “I’m doing the same with Callum.  Making a move faster is just as important as might.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”  Rayla walked away, handing the sword to a random guard and grabbing two spears.  “Good, you’re here.  Let’s get this session underway.  They were a good warm-up.”  Callum followed before her, in awe of just how cool she sounded.  They went to their more secluded grounds and went through the warm-ups of stretches and following basic spear-holding positions.  “Eventually, we’ll get you doing swordplay again.  Just to please everyone.  How was your lesson with Claudia?”

“She suggested dark magic again.”

“And you said ‘no’?”

Why did she always sound so concerned when she asked that?  “Of course. I have no interest in it.”

“Good.”  Rayla turned away for a moment.  She quickly spun the spear in her hand and turned to face him, moving to strike.  He blocked her, trying to hold her ground as she added power behind her moves.  She moved around him, trying to teach him how to keep grounded on his feet.  “Better! Stand firm.  No matter what, you cannot lose your balance.  It’ll all be over if you do.”  Callum nodded, bending his knees a bit.  “Bad choice,” Rayla whispered.  Callum couldn’t stop her from using her spear to sweep his legs out from under him, knocking him flat on his back.  “You reacted to what I said in an obvious way.  If you had waited, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“You’d have noticed. Don’t act like you wouldn’t have.”

“True.”  Rayla stared down at him before offering her hand to help him up.  “You are getting much better, though.  I’m proud of you.”

Callum flushed at her words. It had been a little more than a year since she had arrived, crashing into their lives and disrupting his heart in every way.  She now had to look up at him as his growth spurt had started.  He watched as she spun the spear in her hand again, moving like it was a dance partner.  Everything she did was like a dance.  Perhaps, in another life, she was a dancer for a theater troupe.  “Thanks.”

She smiled back at him. “Dinner will be soon, Your Highness. Go wash up.”

“What about you?”

“I want to stay here a bit longer.  The peace and quiet does me good.”  He nodded, leaving her behind.  When he turned back for a last look, he saw her looking back at him, a soft look on her face.  What did that mean?  It reminded him of how his mom had looked at Harrow back when she had been alive.  But, he couldn’t hope for that from Rayla. Someone like her was made for far better than him.

[imaginesforallkindoflove]

Writing commission for @soulnottainted ! Thank you so much!!! I really hope you like it!! 💕💕

Sitting down with a sigh on the soft grass, the young woman closed her eyes, concentrating on the sounds of the vast nature that surrounded her. She had taken her drawing kit for the day, wanting to practice her art outside, rather than the warm and cosy inside of her home. It was sunny, and birds were chirping… For a moment it felt like a true lost paradise. Then, the tree besides her started to move slowly. The woman did not move, instead, she started sketching with a smile as the tree formed into a humanoid figure, made of woods, with a kind but stern face, red spitting fire as veins and blood and beautiful brown and amber eyes. It was taller than any house from the area, and looked very threatening to someone who didn’t know the creature. The woman didn’t fear him. How could she? 

“Good afternoon, Yew.” She softly greeted, not glancing at him. 

“Hello, young one.” He said, bowing his head a little. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing and painting, as usual.” 

“You are right to do so. Art gives the ability to humans to show what they don’t see clearly. Some are so fogged into their dark views, and seeing a painting may open their minds." The giant tree explained. 

Kelsey nodded as she listened, knowing how wise the being could be. She had grown up next to him, her parents telling her amazing stories about the tree that could take a human form, giving words of advice but also incredible tales for the people he chose. 

People would find him terrifying, as he was so tall and had a deep voice. Also, he was not something you could observe any normal day. After what her parents recalled of him, Kelsey realised how much time the man tree spent with her. He always was present, like a grandparent figure to her and gave her sweet advice on how to handle life. 

She cared a lot about him, and he was feeling the same way about her. 

"What are you doing out there, didn’t you have your… exams to do?" Yew asked in a hesitant voice, trying to not make the young woman anxious. 

"I finished them actually." She replied with a smile as she glanced at him. "I am drawing you." 

"Are you?" He questioned, surprised. "Can I see?" 

The young woman nodded and stood up with her artwork. She handed the piece of paper to small branches that grew out of Yew's body, and watched with amazement as the drawing made its way toward Yew's face. He was such a beautiful, tender, caring and intelligent being. 

"I believe it is well made!" He exclaimed lovingly as he dropped the drawing back to its artist. "You always had so much talent, little one." 

"Thank you! You pushed me to do the best, you know? I am glad you are here with me." She smiled again, rushing to hug him.

Well, hugs were something difficult to do with Yew. He could crush with so little efforts, but he always made sure to not hurt her during those sweet moments. He never had been close to anyone but her for a long time. Sometimes he had been lonely for years, without anyone to speak to!  

But they found a way luckily. Yew would grow smaller branches, looking like arms, and Kelsey would hug him, feeling warm and bubbly as the tree branches touched her skin. She truly considered him like a grandfather, and always was fascinated by his stories. She regretted that sometimes, she was too caught up in her work and busy with life in general, she would leave him alone for some days. But, the young woman always came back to him, apologizing about it, and Yew didn’t seem to mind. He understood perfectly, always wishing her the best in life. 

“Are you interested in a story, little one?” He asked. “One with a moral perhaps?” 

“Oh yes! You know how much I love your stories!” The young woman replied, her eyes shining with excitement as she sat down on the grass.

The creature lowered his head too, his body cracking in multiple places, but he showed no sign of being hurt or being bothered by this. He thought for a few moments, closing his eyes to choose his next tale. Kelsey watched him patiently, but bearing a soft smile on her face. She was very interested with what the giant will share with her.

“There once was a lion, a mighty one, the king of all in the land. He was fierce, strong, powerful and everyone respected and feared him. As he was sleeping, a mouse had accidentally woken him up. The king was absolutely furious about this, ready to assassinate the one who had bothered him in his sleep. However, the mouse implored for his life, telling the lion that killing him would solve none of his problems, and that the mouse would be a pity prey to kill. The lion agreed with this, and released the young mouse.” Yew started. “Later, as he was roaming around his kingdom, the lion king fell into a trap: a solid net that he could not escape from. Feeling the poachers would come soon for him, and seeing he could not free himself from the trap, the lion roared, in hopes someone would realise he was in danger or needed help. It was indeed a lucky day for him! The mouse he had spared earlier came to save him! The little animal ate the net, and helped the lion out. As they escaped the poachers together, the lion thanked the mouse, and promised him to never hunt down one of the mice.” The tree being finished. “So, tell me, little one, what do you think the moral of the story is?” 

“That poaching is bad?” 

Yew laughed at that. It was certainly true, hunting animals for their furs, or killing them for sport, or to have trophies were horrible and bad. He wondered how some humans could do that. 

"Non."

“Sparing someone is good because they can help you back?” Kelsey managed to reply, after thinking intensively. 

“Not quite, but you got the spirit. Actually, you can give a story like this multiple meanings. If the lion didn’t spare the mouse, he would have been murdered by the hunters. Every little act of kindness like that can lead to something greater. At least, that is how I appreciate that story.” 

“Also, small friends can be powerful allies!” The woman exclaimed. “So, Yew, am I your little mouse?” She chuckled.

“I believe you are, my little one.”

After that tale being told, Kelsey laid down next to the sitting giant, observing the sky. Finally, she was done with her mid terms. It was something that had bothered her, and she really hoped she did good! But with Yew, she felt her anxiety dying down. The tree giant emanated a kind and strange aura that always seemed to appease her, and anyone around. She didn’t know much of the giant’s story, only that he was there to help those that were, sort of, misguided by life. He would tell them tales, and ask for a story in return. He helped them realise something about their lives, and managed to turn whatever situation into a good one. 

He never spoke of those cases. It was perhaps the reason why he was created. He didn’t know who did, and never intended to find out. He had helped so much people in the past, and sometimes would disappear for a little more than a week. In Kelsey’s eyes, he was a hero to help those poor unfortunate souls. Yew would argue that he had to do what he had to do. It was not like it was his choice, he was called by those people.

“Yew?” 

The giant tree made a grunt in response, telling her he was awake and would listen to what she has to say. 

“Did you sometimes fail at… saving people?” She asked carefully, not wanting to scare him off with her question. 

He was silent for a moment, and the young woman feared she had hurt his feelings. She stayed quiet too, not wanting the situation to worsen. 

“I did, in fact, fail. Sometimes… Sometimes you can’t always change people, or heal them. Of course, I never really pushed them to do the wrong thing… But…” He sighed. “But I wish that some cases wouldn’t have finished in the way they did. It is hard to watch those little humans, those complicated beasts, struggling to understand, and failing to do so. I wish I could have done more for some men and women. I have to admit, sometimes, I do feel like a puppet, and I want to be freed from my chains, to help them more. I always come back anyway to my principles.” 

“I am sorry you feel that way, Yew.” The woman said, putting her soft hand on his wooden body. “You are nothing of a monster.” She chuckled, remembering how some would call her precious grandfather figure. 

“I do not care about how they speak of me. I do like that nickname tho. It makes me feel… powerful, and bigger.” 

The woman snorted at that. Her own father had known Yew since he was a young child, and would call him the Monster too, but in a more… loving way. When her father would tell her stories of how he used to sneak out to hear the giant tree’s tales, she only thought he had a huge imagination as a child, and here she was, befriending him and always seeking advice from him and his stories. She truly felt like Yew was her grandfather, and she believed he felt the same way about her. 

The first time she met Yew, she was about the same age as her father. She was playing around the old and tall tree, then fell asleep and woke up to a giant man holding her in his hand carefully. She did not scream, because she immediately felt connected to him, and since this day, she made sure to visit him often. 

“Can you tell me a story?” She asked Yew. “Can you… create a tale? Just for me?” 

“Just for you?” 

“Just for me.” The woman repeated. 

“Alright… Once upon a time, there was a young girl with a creative mind. Some people would have expected her to be lonely, fearing that the other children would cast her out. But no, she became very popular in her school, as she was unique. The other children weren’t, and they celebrated her uniqueness with her. There was one boy, however, who didn’t celebrate with the others. He was just a regular boy, quite a strange one if you asked the older women who gossipped between themselves as they watched the children. The young girl saw how alone the boy seemed to be, and tried to approach him many times. The boy pushed her away each time.”

“That is sad and unfair. Why would the boy do that? She is just trying to befriend him!” The young woman said.

“Patience little one. You have asked for a tale, and here it is. The boy was lonely, and seemed to hate the other girl. The latter told him if he wished to be with her, then she would welcome him with open arms. At one point, she stopped seeing him and the boy realised that being alone was not something he wished. When the girl stopped coming for him, stopped talking to him, he felt like a hole had been opened, and he needed her to cure him. So, at the end of the day, he joined the others to celebrate her uniqueness with everyone else. He confessed to the girl that he missed her, and revealed that no one had been making him feel this way, because she had revealed his own uniqueness. They celebrated their new friendship quickly after that meeting.” 

“It was a weak story... “ She chuckled. “But I like it. It was cute.” She yawned.

“Come child, you are tired. You have to rest.”

The young woman nodded, and slowly made her to the giant. He offered her his giant hand for bed as usual, and she laid down on it happily, knowing she was safe.

“Rest now, Kelsey.” Yew breathed out gently as he watched after her.

[ericsonclan]

Both or None

Summary: Omid and Christa decide to give adoption a try.

Word Count: 3370

Read on A03: 

“Well, that was even better than I remembered,” Christa got up to turn off the TV. “I remember getting bored with It’s a Wonderful Life when I was younger, but it’s really grown on me over the years. I can’t believe this was our first time watching it to-” She paused as she noticed the expression on her husband’s face. “Omid? You OK, honey?”

“That was… magical ,” Omid breathed, his voice a bit shaky. His eyes shone with unshed tears. He decided to use the end of the blanket they’d been sharing to dry them. “Holy shit, I did not expect to get that emotional over a movie made back in the 40’s. But seeing George fall for Mary and build a life together and their kids ,” Omid held a hand out in front of him. “Zuzu’s petals,” he whispered before letting himself fall back against the couch, an arm thrown over his eyes. “God, I’m such a sap,”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” A gentle smirk played on Christa’s lips as she lifted her husband’ s legs to make room for herself on the couch.

Omid peeked at her from under his arm. “Stuff like that makes you think about what it’d be like if it wasn’t just the two of us here for Christmas,” A darkness fell over Christa’s features and he immediately backstepped. “Not that we need to talk about it. Forget I even said anything,”

“No, it’s out in the open now. We should discuss it. Besides, it’s been months since the test results came back,” Christa absentmindedly tugged at the toe of one of her husband’s socks. “I know it’s all either of us have been thinking about. It’s why we haven’t made any big travel plans for the summer like we usually do and why you haven’t started Christmas shopping and hiding my presents all over the house,” She looked at Omid with a warm, teasing smile before growing serious once more. “The doctors were pretty clear: even if we threw all of our savings at this, there’s no guarantee it will make me fertile,”

“But if it does, it will all have been worth it,” Omid argued, shifting to sit up. “If that’s what you want to do, I’ll fully support you, one hundred percent,”

Christa pursed her lips. “I’m not sure that it is. I’ve never been one to believe in miracles. I’d rather put our money toward something we’re sure would work than throw it all away on a pipe dream,”

“Well, there are other options. We could find a surrogate,”

“That feels too messy. To have another woman give birth to our child then keep her out of the baby’s life?” Christa shook her head. “Seems like a recipe for disaster,”

“Well, how would you feel…” Omid glanced up, meeting his wife’s eyes, “About adoption? They wouldn’t be ours by blood. I’m not sure how important that is to you,”

Christa was thoughtful. “I’ve certainly considered it these past couple months. If you’d asked me a couple years ago, I’d probably have said no, that I planned to have a child my own damn self. But the cards are stacked against us now and that’s really made me think if I want to give everything I’ve got to give birth to a child of my own when there are thousands of kids out there right now who need a home,” She looked back at her husband. “What about you? I don’t want you to feel like you have to move forward with something like this if it’s not what you truly want,”

“Honey, do you think I would have brought it up with you if it was something I was against? Have I ever been dishonest with you?” Omid caught the knowing glare in his wife’s eyes and cleared his throat. “Let me restate that. Have I ever lied to you about anything other than eating your fries?”

“You haven’t,” Christa ran a hand along his leg. “So… are you serious then? This is something you want?”

Omid’s gaze was steady now. “We’ve been trying for kids for years now. If it was going to happen it would’ve by now, and we’ve done the testing to figure out what’s wrong. Thinking about all the kids who are out there wishing for parents for Christmas… wouldn’t it be the best Christmas ever if we could make one kid’s wish come true?”

Christa felt her own throat constricting with emotion as she listened to her husband. “It would,”

Omid’s smile was bright. “Then let’s do this!”

Things moved quickly for the Farhads once they’d decided to pursue adoption. What they’d heard was normally a months if not years long process shortened itself when a window of opportunity appeared for them not two weeks later. A local foster shelter had need to relocate to a new facility and was looking to place children in homes as quickly as possible. If they found a kid they bonded with there, they really could have them home in time for Christmas.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Omid noticed how nervous Christa was looking. She wasn’t obvious with her fear, but he could see it in her eyes and the tension of her shoulders. Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’re playing this by ear. If we find the right kid, great. If not, we’ll get there when we get there,”

Christa nodded, taking in his words. “Right. We’ll see what happens,”

With that the couple headed inside. After checking in and filling out more paperwork, they were led to the playroom that was used for visiting hours. Dozens of children were in the room. Some ran around screaming and chasing each other while others kept more to themselves, playing quietly together or some on their own. It was a lot to take in.

Omid cleared his throat. “So, something we should probably have talked about before we came here: do we want a loud one or a quiet one?”

“Well, quiet would probably be preferred over screaming, but it’s not like loud is necessarily a bad thing,” Christa sidestepped some scattered toys on the floor. “A ‘loud’ child could have confidence and charisma. On the other hand, a quiet child could be imaginative and bright. Either one could work,”

“True,” Omid’s eyes scanned the room. “So, do we go through the room systematically or-” He was cut off abruptly when one of the youngsters barreled right into his gut, knocking all the air from him.

“Omid!” Christa hurried over to help him. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Omid wheezed. He looked down at the child who’d run into him who was looking up guiltily. Some of his dreadlocks had fallen into his eyes, obscuring his freckled face.

“I’m really sorry, mister!” the boy exclaimed. “I didn’t see you there. I was just trying to hide before-” Suddenly he stopped, looking wildly round himself before jumping behind Omid and clinging to his leg in fear. “I can’t let him find me!”

“What? Is someone after you, buddy?” Omid asked, trying to look back at the boy while keeping his leg in place.

Christa knelt down to be at eye level with the child. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell us,”

The boy looked at the both of them with wide eyes. “I’m hiding from Justin,” he whispered, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“Who’s Justin?” Christa prodded, eyeing the boy up and down. He was certainly skinny. Were they feeding him well enough here? If she suspected even a hint of abuse, she wouldn’t hesitate to report it even if it wrecked their own chances of adoption today.

“One of the other kids here. He’s really mean. And he never gives me a turn, so I had to steal it,”

“Steal what?” Omid asked.

Slowly, as if afraid they would steal his treasure too, the boy showed them what he was clutching in his arms: a beat-up old xylophone. It had clearly seen years of use. The instrument was faded and dirty with two of the keys missing. The strand used to attach the mallet to the xylophone had long ago broken, the mallet now jammed unceremoniously in the open space left by the furthermost missing key.

“That looks awesome!” Omid exclaimed. “I can see why you wanted it so bad,”

The boy’s eyes lit up at his approval. “Yeah, I had to take it otherwise I wouldn’t get a turn. Miss Martin always tells us to take turns, but then Justin hogs it for the whole time and when I try to grab it from him he punches me. So this time I took it while he wasn’t looking,”

Christa smiled down at the boy. She liked his spunk. “Sounds to me like a smart move. Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Louis,” He smiled brightly at his introduction, revealing a missing tooth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Louis. I’m Christa, and this is my husband, Omid,”

Omid lifted a hand in greeting. “That’s me! So Louis, can you tell us how old you are?”

“8 and a half. I’ll be 9 in July,” Louis declared, puffing up his chest.

Omid smiled. “Eight is a great age. Hey, do you think you could play a song for us on your xylophone? We’d love to hear one,”

Louis began jumping with glee at the request. “Yeah! I know a ton of songs! Here’s one of my favorites!” He immediately plopped down criss cross applesauce and began to play a lively tune that sounded to Omid and Christa like “Three Blind Mice”. As soon as he was done they both applauded, causing Louis to practically glow with pride before he launched into another song.

---

 An hour flew by as the three of them sat in a circle, listening to Louis’ music and asking him questions about his life. The boy was eager to answer everything, clearly attention-starved and eager to be seen. Christa and Omid shared several looks and knowing smiles as they got to know Louis better and better. They couldn’t believe their luck. The very first kid they talked to and he was the most charming tyke either of them had ever met.

When they finally reached a momentary lull in the conversation, Omid cleared his throat, drawing Louis’ attention. “Well, Louis, I’m sure you know why Christa and I are here. Would you like to come home and spend Christmas with us?”

Louis’ eyes lit up like gemstones before suddenly darkening. Without a word he ran off, leaving his xylophone behind.

Omid and Christa shared a puzzled look. “I have to say, that is not how I saw things panning out,” Omid mumbled.

Christa placed a comforting hand on her husband’s leg. “It was our first try. Maybe we’ll have more luck if we meet some of the other kids,”

“But Louis was so cute! I got really excited,” Omid pouted, looking down at the abandoned xylophone. “I really thought he was the one,”

“I did too. I’m not sure why he responded like that,” Christa looked towards the clock on the wall. “There’s still an hour or so until visit hours are over. Want to keep looking?”

“OK…”

Just as the couple was rising to their feet, Louis came running back over, this time dragging another child behind him. He looked up at the couple with determined eyes. “It’s both or none of us!”

Omid and Christa looked at the young girl Louis had brought back with him. She looked to be about his age, but smaller and even skinner. Her short blonde hair was messy and unkempt and she slouched forward, holding her arms tightly against herself, her eyes trained on the floor. The couple shared another look. This wasn’t what they had expected.

Omid knelt down in front of Louis once more. “Y’know, Louis, we were just planning to foster one kid for now. But I’m sure we could bring you back for visits-”

“No!” Louis screamed, shaking his head firmly. He took a step back, still holding the girl’s hand. “I’m not leaving Violet! Nobody ever wants to adopt her ‘cause she’s shy, but she’s really cool and strong and-”

“Shut up, Louis!” the girl hissed, pulling back her hand. “Just go home with your new stupid parents!” With that she was off like a shot.

“Vi, wait!” Louis ran after her frantically. Christa and Omid followed suit. They eventually stopped by some children’s desks that had been pushed against the wall. Violet was hiding underneath one of them, her knees pulled up to her chest. Louis was holding on to the metal bars on either side of the desk, trying to reason with her through sniffles. “C’mon, Vi! I told you, they’re really nice! And I don’t wanna leave without you! You always look out for me and punch the other kids when they’re being mean to me. So I’m gonna look out for you too!”

Christa felt her heart ache at the sight before her. They couldn’t separate these kids. Louis clearly adored Violet and she had a feeling that Violet cared deeply for him too considering how upset she was at the thought of him leaving. She knelt down beside the desk, looking at the two kids. “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do. Louis, you’re going to go with Omid and talk some more so that Violet and I can have some time to get to know each other. You can be right over there where you can see us the whole time, OK?”

“I brought the xylophone with me and everything!” Omid added, lifting up the instrument in one hand. “We can jam out to some more tunes!”

Louis still looked worried, but he nodded, stepping aside so Christa could take his spot. He and Omid walked a slight distance away and sat down together.

Christa scooted over so she could sit beside the bench, able to see Violet but giving her enough space that she could make a run for it if she liked. “I figure you don’t want to talk right now, Violet. That’s fine. I’m going to share some things about myself and my husband, and if you want to listen, you can,”

Violet remained silent, her face hidden behind her knees. She was going to be a tough egg to crack.

“You know, when I was your age I didn’t care much for other kids. I used to punch them if they started to annoy me. It wasn’t a good thing to do, but I had a hard time breaking out of the habit. Sometimes I wondered if my parents wanted another daughter, one who wasn’t so serious or violent all the time. But they never said anything to prove my fears were true. They stuck by me and loved me and I’m still close to them today,” Christa glanced over to see if Violet was listening. It was hard to tell. She’d just have to keep going.

“My husband and I came here today because we heard that the foster home is relocating. A lot of kids are going to be moved around. I bet you’ve been worried about that, wondering if you’ll be separated from your friends. Change is going to come no matter what. If you’d like to stick with Louis though, my husband and I could take both of you home. We’d like that very much,”

Still nothing from Violet.

Christa sighed. “This doesn’t have to be a forever decision. Omid and I are taking things a day at a time. If you decide to come home with us but you don’t want to stay forever, that’s fine. But we’d love to at least give you and Louis a wonderful Christmas together. We can promise you that,”

“… said… one,”

She had spoken! “What was that?” Christa leaned forward, trying to hear Violet better.

“You said you only wanted one,”

“That was true at first. But that was when we only knew Louis. We were thinking to start with one, but Omid and I would love to have several kids. Starting off with two might be even better,”

Violet was eyeing her warily. From her behavior and body language, Christa was sure she’d been through some sort of abuse in her past. It saddened her to see someone so young already hurt and afraid.

Christa adjusted her position, sitting down cross-legged for more comfort. “Tell you what: there’s one hour left for visiting hours today. For that time you and I will talk and get to know each other. You can talk as much or as little as you like. At the end of the hour, I’ll ask if you want to come with us. If you do, great. And if you don’t…” Christa paused, feeling the weight of her next statement. “If you don’t, we won’t make Louis go with us either. We’re not going to separate you two.”

Violet’s eyes widened at Christa’s words. She hadn’t been expecting that. Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Alright then. I’ll start off first. Let me tell you about how I met Omid,”

---

 Christa talked for most of that hour. She shared stories from her life, her favorite movies, colors and foods, funny anecdotes about Omid, anything she thought would help Violet warm up and trust them a bit more. Violet only spoke a few times and just a sentence or two each time, but Christa appreciated each interaction. Violet had a soft, gentle voice, much lighter than she’d expected. Her green eyes were huge and got even wider whenever Christa said something that surprised her. As much as she’d entered this conversation with Violet as a show of good faith, Christa found herself growing fonder of the girl with each passing minute. Was she really that much of a sucker, falling for each lonely kid she met? Christa didn’t think so, but she also didn’t care. She wanted Louis and Violet to come home with her and Omid. She wanted them to be happy. And she’d do everything she could to make that happen.

When the hour was up, Christa crouched a bit closer under the desk, reaching out a hand. “Need some help getting out?”

Violet took Christa’s hand, her own hand small and limp in hers. As she came out from under the desk she blinked slowly as if readjusting to the light of the room.

“Alright, Violet. I told you the choice was yours. Would you like to come home with me and Omid?”

Violet didn’t look at her. Instead she watched Louis and Omid. Christa’s eyes followed hers, observing the pair. They looked so happy chatting with each other, like two peas in a pod. Louis was teaching Omid one of his tunes on the xylophone and Omid was doing his best to hit all the right notes, though he didn’t always succeed.

Christa turned back to Violet, watching her. Her expression was unreadable, almost stone-like, but Christa thought she could see the smallest smile upon her lips as she watched her friend. Violet caught her staring, glancing up at Christa before her gaze turned to the floor. Her hands were clenched in fists by her side. She was clearly afraid of all of this change. But she hadn’t said no. Christa waited in silence, hoping that the miracles she didn’t believe in would prove her wrong this one time.

“Yes,”

The word was short, small, soft-spoken. But Christa heard it. A smile broke out of her face as she knelt down to Violet’s level. “I’m glad. Thank you, Violet, for taking a chance on us,” She motioned towards Omid, giving him a thumbs up. Immediately the two boys were scurrying over, Louis tackling Violet in a hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Louis cheered. “This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!”

This time Christa knew she saw the smile on Violet’s face, small but clear. Christa shared a look with Omid, both of them smiling at each other before turning to Louis and Violet. They would keep them safe and happy, no matter what. They were coming home.

[slippingbetweenthestars]

Only Human

So I found this absolute GEM of a book at my library. I’ve never read published DW fic before now, so when I found a copy of Only Human and The Stone Rose, I had to give them a whirl. I LOVE Only Human. The book was a combined future-past story.

Part of it appeals to my weird sense of humor. There was definitely body horror in a way that could have easily squicked me out but didn’t. It was hilarious, and also would have been difficult to translate to film (especially with the Nine CGI era). One thing that originally frustrated me from a historical standpoint thrilled me by correcting itself with current theories (but it happens at the end of the book so spoilers under the cut). 

So the basic premise is Neanderthal in the present. Jack stays with him in the present, and Rose and the Doctor go to his time to fix what happened and figure out who’s behind it, and meet weirdo people from the future. And by that, I mean it’s basically the Giver, aka nobody experiences any real emotion because it’s all regulated with pills. Plus genetic experiment hijinks. 

Let’s just say I was hooked from the very beginning. Basically it’s a seven-year old talking about how her cat’s been naughty and how animals aren’t very logical, but then gets weirder and creepier until we get to this bit:

“My Weekend”

“...I thought it would be a good idea to improve Dusty so she would be happier and would understand not to be naughty. (She goes to her room and draws out her thoughts like any kid might do. So far, so good). 

‘Then I called Dusty into my room and set to work, using Mother’s cutters and things from her work-kit. First I took off her tail, which I consider to be a bit pointless in its present form, so I stretched it and made it scaly. Then I opened Dusty up and moved her organs about to make them more logical. Then I took her head off, pulled her brain out, and studied it. It is very primitive, not really what you’d call a brain at all.

‘I got out one of Mother’s gene sprays and dialed it to make Dusty more ferocious at catching mice and better at breeding. I made it so she would never wee again. Then I put all her its back together and took her downstairs to show my parents....”

So yeah, that is definitely what we are dealing with here.

Plus hijinks with Jack (including nudity), along with trying to teach the ways of the world to a Neanderthal who doesn’t understand the concept of lying. 

Another golden quote:

There was another uncomfortable silence. 

“You’re mouth’s very big,” Jacob said suddenly.

Rose realized he was talking to her. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Where did you get it?” asked Jacob. 

Rose looked to the Doctor for help. “Same place I got my ears,” he said.

“Hmm, they’re pretty huge as well. Were they a mistake?” asked Jacob.

“You should sue, getting those,” said Tom. “My sister Val threatened to sue Face Plus when she got one blue eye, one brown eye. They told her it didn’t matter, and she should just take combo 553/22 and get used to them, but she stood her ground and in the end they gave her a refund and three new eyes.”

“You can always do with a spare,” said Jacob, nodding. 

Rose decided this as one of those conversations she wasn’t going to follow.

And lastly, a spoiler-y one (so don’t read this if you’re intrigued and want to read it yourself). 

“Not now,” said Chantal. she looked into the blood in the tube. ‘I had to really up the dose on your popper pack to make sure it would get past your defenses. Now you’ve got a massive dose of general well-being flooding your brain, which I’m also curious about.”

“I can tell you all about my brain too,” said the Doctor. “Later?”

“Later.” Chantal put the tube down and said, “Your heart’s beating very slowly, though, Doctor.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Which one?”

“This one, the right.” Chantal replied, and she held it up, a big throbbing meaty lump, for him to see. 

He realized that Chantal had opened up his chest and was poking around in it, taking bits out and putting bits in. And something inside him, buried away in a dark corner of his mind, didn’t like the idea. 

Then let’s not get over the fact that Rose is roped into marrying a caveman, that she does so with a fur bikini and the Great Fish of Matrimony, 

There’s also fodder stuff for the shippers, if that’s your thing, with one scene involving the Doctor using Rose’s name no less than 15 times.

THEN (spoiler) (and I’m noting it because humor works on surprise, y’all, so if you read the book you don’t want me to spoil it). 

.

.

.

.

.

LET’S NOT FORGET ROSE REALIZING

SHE HAS BEEN DECAPITATED

and her body is in a cupboard, bumping up against the door. 

Can you imagine if this was filmed? Rose’s headless body bumping into stuff while her head’s strapped to a table? While genetically engineered monsters run amok and everyone’s drugged not to be scared but they’re still getting scared anyways?

It’s hilarious. 

Like this whole thing comes thiiissss close to my squick line but the humor makes it work somehow. 

Oh, and the fact that they used the theory that Cro Magnon murdered all the Neanderthals throughout the book, then at the end, the future humans make peace with everyone and the two tribes inbreed instead! Like yes! Science! I was mad and then you went and flipped it on me.

[valeriianz]

Based on @masao-micchi‘s GLORIOUS witch AU. I really want to write more of this verse, so please let me know! I’ve uploaded this to Ao3 as well for any future installments :)

_____________________________________

Many witches and warlocks grow into their power naturally, usually through their family, genetically. It was very common to learn by yourself, witches weren’t independent, but it was expected to take matters into your own hands; inherit the powers passed down to you. Some families were famous for their impressive genealogy, though some infamous by marrying their brothers, sisters, cousins… keeping the bloodline pure.

Some went to the Academy of Magick to hone their powers and rise to power more quickly… if you had money and happened to live close enough to attend the only magical school in the world.

Aziraphale wouldn’t know what that was like… he was very unique in the village he grew up. Always running about by himself, carrying his books and papers like an eager delivery man instead of keeping a bag to hold his belongings like a sane person. And he kept to himself… always in his cottage, passed down to him from his family, or so the villagers suspected. Though he wasn’t a recluse. Indeed, Aziraphale was always up for a conversation when approached and kept an air of positivity and pure joy that was almost tangible wherever he went.

Which was curious because… Aziraphale was always alone. He didn’t have parents, or any noticeable family. His neighbors, if asked, would tell you that they honestly couldn’t remember when Aziraphale had come to their small town, only that one day, decades ago, he had arrived.

They watched him now, leaving out his front door and, with a wave of his hand, locked the door behind him.

Or, attempted to. As Aziraphale walked down the steps, behind him the doorknob fell off and rolled around the porch, unbeknownst to the spry warlock who was now creating distance between himself and the very much, broken door.

His neighbor sighed, taking out his wand and casually lifting the bronze handle and reattaching it to the old wooden door… again.

Aziraphale made his way to the woods, the only tools with him being his wand, a worn notebook, and his potions, held safely in the brown leather belt securing around his tunic, which was an off-white cotton, impossibly soft, from years of use. He hummed to himself, looking around him, taking everything in as he explored deeper into the trees.

His hands came out, gently touching leaves and underbrush as he went, stooping down occasionally to inspect some berries or a curious rock, and as he got closer to water, moss.

Aziraphale began filling the empty pouches in his belt with the moss, settling down at the edge of the stream and taking out his notebook to scribble in while the sounds of bubbling water settled around him, relaxing him.

“Oh, lavender, how lovely!”

Aziraphale got up, dusting off his backside and wandered over to a small patch of wild lavender, sinking carefully to his knees and plucking some up, sniffing, and carefully depositing them into another pocket.

A small hiss made his ear twitch.

“Hm?” Aziraphale looked around, his wide brimmed hat flopping with the effort.

Aziraphale heard the hiss again and looked down, brows furling in determination as he slowly parted the long grass and purple flowers, searching, following the sound of the hissing. His hands stuttered, faltering when he came across the snake, before parting the grass with more confidence.

“Oh, dear. You’re hurt.” Aziraphale spoke softly, reaching a tentative hand out and gently gliding his finger down the black scales. The snake lifted it head curiously, as if taking in Aziraphale, who stopped before his fingers grazed the open wound that stretched almost down to it’s tail.

Aziraphale bit his lip and nodded, scooping up the large snake without warning, not that the serpent could do much to fight him off except coil lazily around Aziraphale’s arm in a warning without any pressure.

“Now don’t fuss,” Aziraphale chided softly, keeping the wound up and away from his palm. “I can patch you up in a jiffy, just need to get you home first. I know I have a remedy, somewhere…”

If snakes could glare, this one did it’s best impression, doing it’s best to keep his head high and watch Aziraphale as he made his way back home.

___________________

“Now I know it’s here, somewhere…”

The snake seemed to watch in trepidation or curiosity, maybe both, as the young warlock riffled through his belongings. Glass bottles clinked loudly and loose leaf pages fluttered angrily to the floor.

The snake observed from the desk he had been placed on, curled up in a ball of shiny black and red, and not just from the wound, Aziraphale had noted. The gorgeous serpent also had a red belly, like a thick stripe from tail to head, all 40ish inches of him, Aziraphale guessed.

Who returned to the snake triumphantly, holding a couple small bottles of different liquids, and a handful of herbs.

The snake recoiled as Aziraphale dumped his loot haphazardly on the flat surface next to it.

“So sorry, dear boy. Didn’t mean to startle you. At least… I think you’re a boy, yes?”

The snake pulled it’s thick tail underneath him, as if in defiance. Azirphale chuckled softly.

“It’s like you can understand me! Okay so, please stay still my dear…”

The snake obliged warily, keeping his ever watchful eyes on Aziraphale the entire time as he worked on the wound.

Aziraphale finished up by wrapping the herbs tight against the open wound with a clean cloth, securing it with a dissolvable tape.

“The bandage is merely a precaution, I know you’ll be able to shimmy out of it, but I’d like to keep the chamomile in place to take away any discomfort you might feel. Oh, how do you feel, pretty snake?”

The snake looked away, around the room, taking in the mess of books, bottles, jars, ink and so on, and back to Aziraphale. He slithered toward his elbow, perched on the desk and curled around it, flicking his tongue out.

Aziraphale’s eyes drooped in content, watching the snake with fondness creeping into his chest.

“I must admit I’ve never cared for a snake before, or any living creature, really…” He trailed off, looking out the window. “But I’m already growing very attached to you. Would you like to stay here with me? You don’t have to, of course.” Aziraphale babbled on, laughing at himself.

“I have a garden, maybe you’d like it? You could keep away the rodents for me!”

The snake made a face, if possible, that may have mirrored disgust at the thought of eating mice, but Aziraphale figured he was just imagining it.

___________________________

Later that evening, Aziraphale was seated in his favorite chair, reading, when he felt the tell-tale sensation of being watched. He looked up and noticed the large snake curled on the rug in front of the fire mantel, his head poking out of the bundle he had coiled himself into, and watching Aziraphale with eyes that flickered golden, not unlike the fire crackling behind him.

Azirphale smiled lightly to himself, feeling a tad unnervered but also comfortable, protected somehow. Like the snake was watching over him. He looked back down to his book, content in the silence.

After a long moment, Aziraphale nearly halfway through his book, he looked up again, and the snake was still watching. He took note of his page and set the book aside, drawing his legs up and tucking his bare feet underneath him.

“I’m a warlock, if you couldn’t tell already.” He started softly. A part of him felt a little silly, talking to a snake, but something told him his new house guest was anything but an ordinary serpent. Said serpent's head lifted slightly, as if listening. Aziraphale hesitated, looking down at his clasped hands, fiddling with his pinky ring, before continuing.

“You seem very clever, have I gotten your attention?” He looked up again. The snake bowed it's head, body twisting slowly to unravel himself a bit, relaxing.

Night had fallen outside, the only light in the room was the flickering fire and the small table lamp next to Aziraphale. He always liked the dark, it was quiet and everywhere and always present, even during the day. Aziraphale was fascinated and elated that the snake had stuck around all day into the late night. The warlock had left him alone after healing him, allowing the snake to explore around the cottage, keeping a eye out as the snake meandered through his texts and dusty bookshelves, only managing to knock a few things over.

He never did go outside, the snake. Aziraphale caught him, more than once, looking at the books, really looking at them, as if reading the words, studying the runes and symbols scribbled onto the parchment. Aziraphale briefly wondered if he brought an evil spirit into his home, but upon further inspection, concentrating on the snake's aura, Aziraphale found the snake... complicated to read. But at least he wasn't evil.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Aziraphale asked the snake, not expecting an answer, but it was nice to talk to someone.

The snake tucked it's head underneath it's tail, and didn't reemerge. Aziraphale laughed softly.

"Very well, I'll let you be." He finished, picking up his book again and starting from where he left off.

After a few minutes, the snake's head popped back up, looking at the warlock again, and felt himself drifting to sleep.

[scotianostra]

Marjorie Fleming who was born on this day in 1803 at 130 High Street, Kirkcaldy to accountant James Fleming and his wife Isabella 

Marjory was a child writer and poet, the reason I am saying child writer is she never had the chance to become and adult as she passed away a month before her 9th birthday.The next few paragraphs are from a blog I will leave the link for at the bottom, the picture is by her cousin Isa Garden.

."......By the age of six, the Flemings decided that Marjorie needed to broaden her horizons and satisfy her burning curiosity for the world in which she lived. They sent her to Edinburgh to live with her 18 year old cousin, Isabell , who was happy to take over responsibility for the little girl's education. Isabella had a passion for literature and in particular poetry; she introduced Marjory to the power of verse, and the child soon began to write poems of her own. When she wasn't writing, Marjory was reading, yet for all her intelligence, she remained a child. Playful and cheery, she took her learning in stride, seeing nothing unusual in her abilities and encouraged by Isabella to lead an utterly normal life. It was whilst in Edinburgh that she met and charmed Walter Scott, who became a regular visitor and one of her greatest literary champions.

Marjory kept her family informed of her experiences in the city by writing numerous letters to them. She further elaborated on life in Edinburgh in the diaries she kept in the final years of her short life where she discussed domestic life, the news of the day and her views on the lessons she undertook with her adored Isabella. Her poetry impressed none other than Walter Scott, a relation on her mother's side, but she was not particularly known during her life, though celebrity would follow later.

Marjory left Edinburgh and returned home to Kirkcaldy at the age of eight. That same year she contracted measles during an epidemic and, though she appeared to recover, she fell ill again and swiftly deteriorated. The official verdict on her death was that she had been killed by "water on the head", likely meningitis, and she was laid to rest in Abbotshall Kirkyard, Kirkcaldy.

Fascinated by the world around her, Marjory watched and absorbed all that she saw, and from a young age she proved to be a prolific letter writer. Her diary provides a fascinating insight into the life of a child in the era. Rumour has it Walter Scott was highly impressed by the poems of the little girl, but her writings were largely ignored for many years after her death.

The diary Marjory wrote in the last two years of her life remained unpublished for decades after her death until a journalist, HB Farnie, serialised them in a heavily edited version in the Fife Herald. Shocked at some of the forthright language used by the little girl, further edits followed before in 1868, the diaries were published as a book. This was the first of several works about Marjory and slowly but surely, six decades after her death, the child was famous.

These published diaries were a huge hit in the Victorian era, as readers were utterly beguiled by the tragic tale of this bright, brave little girl. Although Marjory's original journals had been substantially rewritten, it was for these that she eventually found fame. So popular were the diaries that they were reprinted on numerous occasions and each time, more and more celebrity admirers queued up to shower lavish praise on the child including Mark Twain, who wrote an essay on Marjory that popularised her works in America.

Marjory's works are now kept in the National Library of Scotland, and she has become recognised as a deservedly important figure in the history of Scottish literature. Her poems and writings reveal a child with a wit and intelligence that surpasses that of many adults; whilst it is tempting to speculate on what she might have achieved had she lived, the legacy she left behind cannot be underestimated."

I had a hunt around and found a few of her poems and have picked out two that I liked best the first is written about her cousin with whom she lived in Edinburgh, the simplicity and innocence of the poem I must admit has brought a tear to my eye, especially as it written by a 6 year old......

“My Dear love Isabella”

Here lies sweet Isabell in bed, With a night-cap on her head; Her skin is soft, her face is fair, And she has very pretty hair; She and I in bed lie nice. And undisturbed by rats and mice; She is disgusted with Mr. Worgan, Though he plays upon the organ. Her nails are neat, her teeth are white, Her eyes are very, very bright; In a conspicuous town she lives, And to the poor her money gives; Here ends sweet Isabella's story, And may it be much to her glory.I love in Isa's bed to lie, Oh, such joy and luxury! The bottom of the bed I sleep, And with great care within I creep; Oft I embrace her feet of lillys, But she has gotten all the pillys. Her neck I never can embrace, But I do hug her feet in place.

Me being a cat person I couldn't ignore this one

“A cat in distress”

Nothing more, nor less ; Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye, As I am a sinner, It waits for some dinner To stuff out its own little belly. You would not easily guess All the modes of distress Which torture the tenants of earth; And the various evils, Which like so many devils, Attend the poor souls from their birth. Some a living require, And others desire An old fellow out of the way; And which is the best I leave to be guessed, For I cannot pretend to say. One wants society, Another variety, Others a tranquil life; Some want food, Others, as good, Only want a wife. But this poor little cat Only wanted a rat, To stuff out its own little maw; And it were as good Some people had such food, To make them hold their jaw!

I think you will agree if she was born in the modern era she would be called a wonder-child, a prodigy, or would her natural talent have been stifled ? I can't go without touching on the part of the story where it mentions her " forthright language" here is a quote which I find delightful but you can imagine how the Victorians would have reacted to it......

"Today I pronounced a word which should never come out of a lady's lips it was that I called John a Impudent Bitch."

The first pic is a portrait of Marjorie Fleming during her last illness. From a water-colour drawing, probably by her cousin Isabella. The third is the monument marking her grave, south of the Abbotshall  Kirkyard in Kirkcaldy is very interesting, it was not erected until 1930. It was designed by Charles d’Orville Pilkington Jackson, some of you might recognise the name, he is famous for a particular statue of King Robert at Bannockburn! 

The main story regarding her life and her journals can be found here http://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.co.uk/…/the-life-of-p…

[gloriousprofessorhan]

Locked

You’re locked in a building with EXO D.O!

(re-upload ‘Locked’, AFF, 2018)

You looked around and found the building is almost empty, only one last person beside you standing in front of a big glass door.

“The new security system seems good.” he said while you made your way towards him to look at the thing he was talking about. You’re the brand manager at one of most luxurious boutique in your city, the boutique takes place in the heart of the town and sell limited goods of luxury items. “You’re gonna stay in late?” your co-worker asked you.

You nodded, “year end report...” 

“Good luck.” he playfully jabbed your shoulders, he’s the engineer of the building who is also your friend in college, so you kind of close with him, as friends, and he already have a lovely girlfriend. “if you feel threaten remember the CCTV that works is the one in west side, also remember the blind spots.”

“You guys haven’t repaired the east wing?” you know there’s some problems with the CCTV at the east wing which is facing the storage and part of the office. your co-worker shook his head, “this boutique sell many expensive items, your team should fix it soon!” 

“I will, ma’am.” he often teasing you because you’re practically own the high position in this boutique.

You snickered before pushing him away, “go! spent this lovely Christmas eve with your girl.”

“Should I feel bad for you?” he asked.

“Yeah, you better feel bad for me because even the security decided to take leave today.” you rolled your eyes and he laughs. you stretched your arms after he left, peeking gently to the see the clock. 10.11 pm. your working hour ended 5 hours a go and you went home to take a shower, and prepared to stay at the office because you need to do your report.

This task could actually be done during the working hour if its not for the chaos happened to your department during the day. There’s a big fashion event and year end award event held in your city since three days ago, all fashionistas and celebrities need to be dressed up and the boutique where you work is one of the place who sell the bottomline of trendy yet luxurious items which makes all the stylist came and fight for a piece for their clients.

You walked around and checked every corner of the store, the window display, you nod in satisfaction for the work of your visual merchandising team. then you went to the jewellery section, admiring the new pieces of Tiffanys and Franks. you move to the shoes and bags section. silently loving the silence. 

You went to the back where there’s a small coffeeshop in the middle of beautiful indoor garden full of flowers and tropical plants, this coffeeshop is free of charge for client to wait for their shopping bags. you made yourself a cup of coffee while scanning the cool chiller which have mini cakes, scones, and pastries. This boutique is surely a wonderful place.

Suddenly you hear something rustling.

You froze on you place and sharpened your ear.

Krssk.

Is it a rat? no, impossible. you knew the cleaning team here is more than professional to let one little mice sneaking around the building.

Krsskk.

You started to feel scared. is it a ghost? nah. You don’t believe in them.

“W-who’s there?” you tried to sounds fine. You hands are looking for something you can use as a weapon. “WHO”S THERE???” 

suddenly the wall storage--storage which seamless on a wall--door is open and a man came out. You gasped and he looked surprised too.

“DO NOT MOVE!!” you shouted at him. “I have a knife in my hand!” you showed him your hand.

His big round eyes turn his gaze towards your hand and looking at the knife you brought, “but that’s a plastic knife...” he said in a funny english.

“You never know what i can do with this.” you tried to sounds violent.

“Okay. i’m scared. now let me explain.” he said.

You scanned him from head to toe, and as someone who work for fashion world you know exactly what he wears. a good branded stuff... “YOU’RE A THIEF!!” 

“What??” he scrunched his eyes.

“Take off your clothes!!”

“WHAT???” he raised his voice.

“You heard me! you’re a thief! you took ‘em all from here!!”

“This??” he pointed at himself, “This is my clothes!!”

You paused. well, those clothes for sure are branded and his t-shirt was limited, but you knew it was from the last season, not the latest, your boutique doesn’t have them anymore. but still why would someone who wear such a nice clothes is sneaking around an empty store.

You suddenly ran to a corner to a button which only staff would know. A new security system that had been installed just now. you pushed it and the loud sound of machine working and clicking locking all the doors. “HA! NOW YOU’RE TRAPPED HERE, THIEF!!!”

The guy raised his eyebrows, “yeah, with you.”

oh shit.

You scoffed, trying to sounds relax, “nope, i know how to escape. i work here. so, i know.”

“No, you don’t” he chuckled.

You didn’t say anything but you still have the plastic knife in front of you, pointing at him.

“Would you let me explain now?” he asked.

You have no choice but to slightly nod.

“This might sounds crazy, but-uhm-I’m a celebrity who ran away from fans and ended up hiding behind those wall storage.” he explained.

You’re trying to look for any sane information there, “you’re a what?” you chuckles, bitterly chuckling.

“I’m not lying.”

“Pfft...hahaha...hahahaha...” you laughs, half mocking.

“Google me.”

“Hahahah... hahahaha... a celebrity who ran away from fans? if your fans is that many, why you’re walking alone?” you asked, “sir, i saw many celebrities come and go in this store, and if they’r really famous, they will walk around with a manager, one or two bodyguards... hahaha... you cannot fool me, sir.”

“Seriously, google me.”

You have no choice, you fished your cellphone from the back of your jeans and still with high caution, you open google app, “what’s your name.”

“Doh Kyungsoo.”

You lift your head to him, “huh??”

“Exo D.O” he said, “letter D, dot, letter O”

You typed EXO D.O and articles and images starts flowing in. Still very cautious, you click images and trying to match the face. the guy took off his hat and showed you his face and hair.

Okay, they looked the same. but you still need more proof. “D.O, when is your birthday?”

“January 12, 1993, come on, that’s too easy. go search D.O mole, or beauty spot. something other people can’t copy.”

You squints your eyes but searched what he asked.

“Here.” he turned a bit and pointing at some places behind his ears, “are we good now?”

You raised one of your eyebrows, “why are you here?”

“i told you i was running away from fans... okay okay, let me explain to you from the start.” he took a deep breathe, “i am D.O from EXO, i don’t know if you knew about EXO or not, but we’re kind of biggest K-pop boyband right now.”

“Really?” your voice doesn't shows that you're convinced.

He nodded, “and i came here for the award ceremony yesterday, and tomorrow we’re going back to Seoul. this afternoon i thought i’m just gonna stay at he hotel but, i suddenly feel like shop some new clothes.” he explains, “and about the manager or bodyguard, yeah, i supposedly go with them... but, my hotel is very near and i think being in disguise would be enough because you know, bodyguards draw more attention...”

You can understand what he meant, so you nodded.

“But, i met some fans outside the hotel and they recognised me. I ran and i saw this store, i know this store because it’s quite famous, so i get in, hoping the security would stop them, but i was wrong, they were able to follow me in. Then i found the storage, i get in, and stayed there.”

“Until now? i mean, how long you’ve been there??”

“I don’t know...” you saw a pink blush on his cheek, "running exhaust me... i kind of... fell asleep...”

You cursed yourself for find it adorable.

"Can you now put down the plastic weapon?" he asked, but you won't let your guard down, so you moved it down a bit but you still glaring at him. “So...” he said, “are we good now?”

You slowly nodded.

“Can you unlock the door now?” And that got you frozen, and he seems to realised that, “don’t say that...”

“W-well they just renew the security system here, and I,I,” you clear your throat, “I’m still figuring out how to-”

“Are you out of your mind??” he widens his eyes, “if i was really a thief, why would you mindlessly locking yourself with a criminal??”

You feel something strangely bubbling in your heart because he looked genuinely worried behind his high pitched voice, “I... uh...”

He shook his head in disbelief, “you’re unbelievable.”

“Don’t worry, okay, I’ll ask my engineer.” you took your cellphone and trying to call your friend. No answer. You’re looking at the small clock in the corner of your phone screen. 10.53 pm. there’s no way he’s asleep, “wait...” you texted him and waiting. “Should we, uh, call the police?”

“And tell them what?” he asked, “tell them that a celebrity is locked with you here because you think he’s a thief?”

“Maybe...”

“That’s not a good idea... let alone the fact my fans are gonna find out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“If they knew you’re accusing me for something i didn’t do... i’m sure you’re not gonna like what they’re gonna do to you.” he sighs.

“Okay, okay, I really have no idea why your fans sounds more like an evil step mother, but okay, let’s just wait.” you sat on a chair and open your laptop, “meanwhile, i gotta work.”

he sat on the other table, looking around, “oh shit, is that a CCTV?”

you lift your head, “yeah, never saw one?”

“No, i mean, how you gonna explain this?” he pointed at himself and you.

You freeze like a deer meeting a lion. “Oh my... oh!” you suddenly shouts, “this is a secret but the CCTV in east wing is broken.”

“Broken??” he sounds about to say another ‘unbelievable’.

“Yeah, yeah, i know, but they’re gonna fix it soon.” you said, “let’s see the boon, you’re not caught locked here with me.” you fixed your eyes on the screen again while praying your friend reply the text soon.

But it was almost half an hour and your phone didn’t get any messages.

“Damn it! where is he??” you checked your phone for the third times, you pressed call again and he still didn’t pick it up for you.

“Ah.” you heard Kyungsoo whining and you saw him hold his stomach.

“You okay?”

“I’m just... hungry.”

You hold your laughter, “just take any cakes, whatever.” 

He looked around, and rose from his eat to look over the chiller, “scones... can i have one?”

You briefly nodded, “make yourself coffee or any drinks if you want.”

He was making himself busy behind the counter while you continue working, and after another hour you wrapped up one report and about to move to another report when Kyungsoo called you.

“Hey.”

You turned your head.

“I didn’t know your name.” he said.

“Oh,” you said your name and he repeated it for you. Unknowingly you smiled.

“You want to order something ma’am?” he playfully asked you, “it’s kinda rude when you just sit in my coffeeshop, working, without ordering anything.”

And you decided to play along, you rose from your seat and went to the counter, “hmm... Can I have one...” you’re looking at the menu, “caramel macchiato.”

“We... uhm, we don’t have that at the moment.”

You raised your eyebrows, “why?”

“Because...” he clears his throat, “i can’t make that! you should be considerate to this not-so-expert barista.”

“Okay...” you put your finger on your chin, “cappuccino.”

“We... also don’t have that at the moment.”

“What?” you scoffed, “then what do you sell?”

“Iced americano.”

“I can’t drink black coffee.”

“Hmm...” he’s humming, “cafe latte?”

“Can you make that?”

“I just have to pour the milk on top of espresso, right?” he made a whispering gesture, and then he laughs, and his heart shaped lips captured your heart.

You spent the next minutes having conversation with him while he’s making the drinks. He asked you about your work, why you like fashion. You told him about the chaotic whenever there’s an award shows, or fashion shows, when all the stylist fighting for a piece of limited edition goods. And he told you about the situation in an award shows, where most celebrities are either bored or sleepy from long haul but they have to appear super fresh and happy.

“But of course not everyone is like that, some of us are actually excited to see other groups performance,” he said, “it’s rare for us.” he pour the milk after the espresso and ice, and slide it on the table for you to take.

You took it and stir it before sipping it.

“How’s it?” he sat across you on the table.

“I’ve taste worse.” you joked.

He laughs, “you remind me of my member who also can’t drink black coffee.”

“Member?”

“Uh, band mate, we called it member.” he said.

“So, you’re the vocalist? or?”

“No, no, i’m not in the band, it’s a boyband.” he said, “don’t tell me you never heard one.”

“Oh, i know that.” you playfully winked, “i was just joking, because you clearly told me that your band was the biggest boyband now?”

he smirks, “i’m telling you the fact.”

“So tell me about this band mate, i mean, member who can’t drink black coffee.”

“His name is Kai, he’s like a baby, but the babiest is Sehun. he’s the youngest and he really act like one.” he stirs his iced americano.

“So, it’s boyband or a daycare? why there are so many babies?”

Kyungsoo laughs, “smart!” he said while his gaze linger to study your face features.

“Tell me your band again? is it XO?”

He was a bit startled when you turned to him and caught him staring at you. “E-X-O.” he spelled it, then he pull his chair closer to you, “that one,” he pointed a picture and you click it and the bigger picture appear, “That’s Kai in the middle, and that’s Sehun, the tall one on the left side.”

“He’s so handsome.”

“Yup, he’s like the visual of the group.”

“Visual?”

“Face of the group. the most handsome.” he explains.

“What about you?”

“Well, i’m just... the ordinary guy in the group.”

“I don’t believe you.” you search for his name again and his profile appear, “awards for movies and drama?” you read an article called ‘things that makes you in love with D.O.’. “Super talented, voice of a true singer, great dancer, really?”

“No, no, Kai and Sehun is the dancer... i’m just a vocalist.”

“Sing for me!”

Kyungsoo a little startled.

“Come on.”

“I don’t know what to sing.”

“Just whatever.”

“Oh, never gonna let you go... Giving you my heart and soul... I'll be right here with you for life... Oh, baby, all I wanna do... Is spend my every second with you... So look in my eyes... I'll be by your side... Yeah, look in my eyes... I'll be by your side... For life.” his eyes never left you, and you feel warm creeping up your face. 

You’re stunned, his voice is so good, the echo in the building seems to compliment him well, and you blame on his soft voice that made you couldn’t stop looking at his lips. “wow... wow...” you’re clapping, you suddenly feel awkward because the guy sitting next to you is now became more and more attractive. “Now dance.”

He laughs at your assertive voice, “seriously?”

You nodded.

“Okay, no.” he sips his drink. then he lift his head, “or, i could just teach you how to dance.”

“Me? no, i’m so stiff.”

“Come on, be fun!” he pointed at your laptop, “go look for our music video and you decide which one you wanna learn.”

You wanted to rejecting him but when you saw Kyungsoo in a music video you accidentally clicked, where he was rolling his body, your lips betrayed your brain, “let’s practice this.”

He peeked on the screen, “The Eve?? no, no, that’d be too... provocative.”

“Chicken out?”

Kyungsoo staring at you, “try search Love Shot.” he said.

You typed the word and watch the video, and you mentally cursing when the member you remembered as the baby who can’t drink black coffee starts dancing, “this should be illegal, no?”

“And yet you were asking for me to dance the Eve.” Kyungsoo playfully rolled his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, i think i have the costume!” you stood up excitedly because anything related to fashion excites you. “I’ll wear red suit like the middle dancer.”

“Kai.”

“Yeah, okay, Kai.” you said, “and you’re gonna be you. “Green turtle-neck, black suit...” you’re now busy taking some clothes from here and there while Kyungsoo is watching you.

“You’re very passionate about your work.” he murmured, and not sure if you heard him, but he continued, “I really like to se someone got immersed by their work... and you look pretty that way.”

You had some clothes on your hand, “what did you say?”

“Huh?” he paused, “you... need help?”

-

“Move your hand like this,” Kyungsoo stand in front of you facing the big mirror at the fitting room aisle, “and 3... 4... move you hips like this, move it using you leg, yup, that’s right.” he’s watching you through the mirror.

“See? i’m very stiff.”

“No you don’t, the clothes hides your moves but you’re actually doing great.”

“Maybe i should take off the shirt i wear, because Kai only wear the suit.” you nonchalantly murmured.

“What?”

You swore you saw a pink blushes on his face, and you want to see them more, so you mindlessly teased him, “What do you think? should i take off this shirt and wear only the suit?”

“Are you crazy? Kai’s a guy, he doesn’t have those...” he looked away.

“I’m wearing bra, for God sake, not gonna go naked in front of you, so relax!” you rolled your eyes.

Suddenly Kyungsoo turned his heel around and face you, “oh, is that so?”

You saw his gaze changed into something more... impassioned. He took just one... two... and a half steps towards you without breaking the gaze.

“You want me to help?” his voice is low, rasping but not hoarse. his hand reach a button of the suit and undo it, then it went to the button of your shirt, undoing it one by one from the upmost, “is this what you want?”

You were hypnotised, or you think you were because all you can do is just staring back at him and hold your breath.

your gaze move to his lips and when he lick his lips to moist it up, you couldn’t help yourself but licking your lips too, and the next thing you knew, you were leaning forward, asking him to kiss you. and he did.

His lips taste like marshmallow, it was soft and and pliant between yours, he caught your upper lips and suck it a little made you shivering, then he kissed you deeper, and leading you to the open mouthed kisses. Then he pulled himself away, and you grimacing the regret.

Regret that the kiss happened.

Or regret that the kiss ended?

You looked up and Kyungsoo is staring at you, then he leans down and meet your lips again, his fingers hooked under your chin just to keep you there. then he tilted his head, trying to get deeper access to your lips. you can’t help your hand from slipping on his hips, clutching it and pull him closer.

You hear a low grunts as he push you towards the wall and kiss you again, this time is more daring, because you sure you feel his tongue for the first time.

“Mhmm...” you moaned, and you feel like you have to return the favour so you nibbled his lower lips and Kyungsoo replied with a low grunt, the mixture of surprise and pleasure.

You and him were making out, and when you know it, all your shirt buttons are undone.

“Sneaky...” you whispers in his ear and you can feel he’s smirking on your neck then pull your hips closer to his, and creating this addictive friction between you and Kyungsoo down there. “Hmm... you’re hard.”

“Want to help me with that?” he whispers on your ear.

You and him knew the next thing happened is the desires take over, the hot kisses, the faint marks left on each others skin, how you impatiently undress him and how he throw the last piece of fabric on your body carelessly, it was all lust speaking.

Now you’re just a moaning mess, but you got the best view in the world, view of Kyungsoo above you, pumping you hard while biting his lips. Then he flips you, “on your four,” he said, he immediately entering you again without waiting and the pleasure of the new position brought heat pooling in your core.

“Oh shit.” you hitched.

“You close?” he asked between a harsh breathing.

“Ah, hm.” you could only replied with another moan, and another one.

He bent down just to squeeze your breasts and caught the nipples between his fingers, “wait a little longer...” he whispers and you saw his gaze right o you eyes through the mirror in front of you and you feel like cumming.

“Then stop being so sexy... or i’ll burst out in any second...” you replied and he chuckled.

“Have you ever seen yourself like this? huh?” is voice is low and husky, “you’re a damn hot mess...” he thrust you harder this time, letting you no space for breathing, just moaning.

“Ride me.” he said and after riding him and let him enjoying the view of your chest bouncing in front of his eyes, his back to the missionaries to end you both.

a long lustful moan heard from both you when you and Kyungsoo reach the peak.

-

You both lie down the wooden floor in the aisle of the fitting room with your head on his chest, the breathing is slower this time but the pound inside your chest is louder than ever.

“Do you listening my heart beat?” he suddenly asked.

“Uh-hmm...” you mumbled.

He chuckled then kissed the top of your head. “I really like you.”

You lift your head, “what makes you like me?”

“You didn’t treat me like a celebrity...  you don’t care if i’m well-known... i like how you’re not worshiping famous people like me.” he said, “i feel like human...”

Something sting your chest, you knew this won’t last. he belongs to the other side of the world where thousands of people loves him. And you’re just... well, you.

“Will you forget what happened here?” you asked.

He took a moment before answering, “i would never able to, even if i want it...”

This was just a one night stand, and you’re no saint for never doing it before Kyungsoo, but this guy is different, not because he’s a celebrity, but the way he speaks, the way he’s staring at you, his little jokes, his heart shaped smile, his laughter... you like them all. And you know you might like him more if only he’s not someone famous.

“Then don’t forget this... and me.” you murmured and you felt his arms hug you tighter, you look up and he’s looking at you, then your lips, and you’re anticipating another kiss when you hear your cellphone ringing.

you grabbed your shirt and wear it before running to where your cellphone is.

“Hello.”

“Hey, sorry, i had a christmas eve party and got a bit drunk... i fell asleep and woke up just now to throw up then i saw your text,” your engineer friend called you, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I accidentally locked myself... uh can you tell me how to open the door?”

“Oh my God, how come??”

“just accidentally, you know... me being clumsy.” you add a small chuckles.

“You being clumsy is rare... but anyway, you want me to come and help you?”

“No, no, please don’t, you’re spending holiday with your girl now... you can just tell me how and i’m good.” you said. 

-

Now here you are, standing near the door with Kyungsoo. Fully dressed and ready to send him out.

“How about the CCTV?” Kyungsoo said because the door is in the middle between west and east wing.

“I’ll erase it later... only this part, they wouldn’t realised.” you said.

Suddenly he cups your cheek and lean down for a kiss, “make sure to erase this or we both gonna get into a trouble.” he smiles between the kisses.

“Can i use this to blackmail you?” you asked.

“Yes, please blackmail me with this video...” he whispers and kiss you for the last time. 

“Bye.” You shortly said.

“Hey, i’ll be here again in six months for a concert with EXO...” he shrugged his shoulders, “if you want to come...”

You just briefly nodded, and he turned away, “Kyungsoo...”

He quickly turned around. “Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Ah right!” he smiles, “thank you for spending Christmas with me.”

You smile, “pleasure’s mine...”

-

After he’s gone, you finished up your report and went to the control room to erase that one particular CCTV footage. Your fingers move above the computer mouse, cutting the video and watch it one last time, you watched how he put his palm on your cheek and leaned down.

You still feel the kiss on your lips, still feel the warm of his hand on your cheek, and now you feel the pain in your heart.

-

“I saw you get into your room at 3 last night.” Baekhyun sat beside Kyungsoo on the plane.

“What do you mean, hyung?” Kyungsoo asked.

The older smiles, “I really don’t want to know where were you... i’m just telling you, i saw you get into your room last night at 3 am...”

“And what were you doing in such hour?” Kyungsoo asked back.

“Me, Chen, and Chanyeol had a Christmas eve drink... the other two were wasted, they didn’t remember saw you.”

Kyungsoo didn’t say anything afterwards, just leaning his head further to teh backrest and scrolled down his phone until he found one new video in his phone.

Your video dancing Love Shot in a red suit.

Yes, he filmed you for fun that times, not knowing he’s gonna treasure the video, because it was the only footage he has about you.

-

-

-

six months later.

One of the biggest arena in your city filled with people queueing to get into the stadium, banner and posters about the current event is everywhere: EXO WORLD TOUR.

You got the ticket in your hand but you don’t know if you want to get in or not. watching a concert sounds great to refresh your mind, but can you control yourself if later you saw Kyungsoo on stage and realise how cool and untouchable he is for you? you gotta face another heart break.

But hey, during this six months you’re doing great, you didn’t lose focus on your work, your cool workplace keep being the best of the town, you attended some fashion event and meet another famous people. you’re doing just fine, so you let your feet step confidently inside the arena.

-

Fourth songs and Kyungsoo can’t keep his eyes from scanning through thousands of people in the stadium, it is hard to see with the spotlights turning towards you, but a man gotta try. 

he ran around the big stage, to the small one, run towards the end of the jetty, and when they sing a song which all members has to spread around the stage his eyes met yours and he freezes. he didn’t move until Baekhyun came to him.

“This my place to stand, go to your place!” he pushes Kyungsoo, but he didn’t budge, and then Baekhyun follows his gaze and smirks appear on his face. “oh, i got it...” he went closer to to Kyungsoo, “come to think about it, it was this city where you back at the hotel at 3 am...” then the older left Kyungsoo who still staring at you.

He smiles at you and start singing,

Oh, never gonna let you go... Giving you my heart and soul... I'll be right here with you for life... Oh, baby, all I wanna do... Is spend my every second with you... So look in my eyes... I'll be by your side... Yeah, look in my eyes... I'll be by your side... For life.

-end-

[staliasjeronica]

Jeronica Headcanon’s Part 2

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

- Surprisingly, Jughead. He loves to find small items that would look great on Veronica and make it their thing, their item as a couple. Veronica spends money on Jughead by buying food and new clothes when his get messy from Serpent business. Still, Jughead spends most of his money on Veronica because that’s just how much he loves her.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

- Veronica loves to fall asleep in Jughead’s lap, resting her head on his thighs as she splays herself across the couch. Or, she’ll curl up on top of him and nestle her ear up against his chest so she can feel him breathing along with her, and hear his heartbeat. However, sometimes when Jughead has a bad day, he likes to stretch himself over the couch and lay his head against her lap so she can play with his hair. 

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

- Jughead walks around half-naked because society allows him to, and Veronica always tells him to put clothes on when they have people over. That does not mean Veronica doesn’t try to tease him by doing the same thing and parading around in her underwear while Jughead is trying to work.

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

- When Jughead isn’t out all night for Serpent business, he always tells Veronica to come to bed, and not to stay up. But she used to be a party animal, she was used to staying up all night and waking up early in the morning to make herself look as beautiful as she always did with ease. It was almost in her blood, in a way. So, of course he’d wake up groggily and she’ll be up and making breakfast or scrolling through her phone while sipping tea and he’ll wonder how the hell she can do it without twenty naps throughout the day.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

- Despite Jughead’s affinity for food, that doesn’t mean he necessarily knows how to cook. He can make the simple, cheap foods like macaroni and cheese with hot dogs or ramen, but when it came to meals he needed… a little help. He wanted to get better, but that wouldn’t change just because he wanted it to. So, when he ended up burning the food, Veronica would help him clean out the burnt smell, tell him it was okay and that he can try again some other time, and then bakes cookies for them to eat while watching a movie.  

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

-  Veronica reads the prompts, Jughead doesn’t agree because he believes they’re all substantial to the relationship and not every one could possibly be them (but for the most part, it COULD be them if they wanted to)

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

- Veronica. She LOVES wearing Jughead’s clothes, especially after sex because she looks absolutely stunning in his dark “S” shirt that was his favorite.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

- Jughead goes out a lot because he has to check in with the Serpents, so he will multi-task and get groceries and such at the same time. Ever since Jughead forgot to bring home the single thing he went out to get, Veronica constantly asks him if he remembered to get everything on the list.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

- Jughead drives because it gives him a piece of mind, and Veronica gives him directions.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

- Veronica poses, while Jughead draws. Playfully, she loves to say “draw me like one of your French girls” and they both just laugh. Sometimes, though, when Veronica wants to spice things up a bit she’ll switch her role and try to draw Jughead. Whether that be clothed or not, he appreciates her unique eye on his appearance (even if she’s not fantastic at drawing, it’s the thought that counts)

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

- Jughead twists and turns his body in an attempt to not be caught by the lasers, and Veronica, knowing that this isn’t a movie and that it wouldn’t be that insane follows behind slowly while chewing on whatever snack she brought with her in the van.

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

- Because of his father’s affinity for alcohol as he grew up, Jughead isn’t too fond of alcohol. He’ll still drink it for celebrations and certain occasions and whatnot, but usually he is always the designated driver. He has to tell the beautiful party girl to slow down, because he doesn’t want her to do something stupid that she’ll regret. She gets wild, and into the old mindset she wants to forget, so if angering her by taking away her alcohol is what he has to do, he will.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

- They both do. It’s a tradition for them: every month on a date decided the month before, they surprise each other with multiple, small gifts. Although, Jughead tends to buy more than Veronica.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

- Since Veronica has liked her last name considering it was tied to her father,  she desperately wanted to distance herself from it so sometimes she would be trying out her name with Jughead’s last name and when introducing herself to new people she accidentally tells them she’s Veronica Jones instead of Veronica Lodge because she’s said it so many times that it’s almost true. Even if they aren’t married (yet).

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

- Veronica screams about the spider, and Jughead helps it outside. Jughead, growing up in a trailer, was used to spiders and mice and such making their way into the trailer so unlike the pampered princess who very rarely saw any kind of scary creature, he didn’t mind.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

- Jughead loves to give Veronica his jacket. Mostly because when she returns them (even though he says she doesn’t have to) it smells like her.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

- Charles actually likes Veronica (and Betty isn’t older than Jughead) and Veronica’s sister is working with her father, so they don’t really have anyone to be the overprotective older sibling, but if this was an alternate universe I figure Hermosa would be incredibly protective over the younger sister she knew she had but hadn’t really met until. recently.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

- Jughead was the first one to admit that he had feelings for Veronica. He fought with himself for weeks on end, trying to pretend he didn’t but eventually he couldn’t do it anymore and he just flat out told her. She was surprised, and he actually thought that she didn’t like him back because she avoided him the next day, but the day after she came back and apologized, saying she had to wrap her mind around the fact that he actually liked her, despite their rocky start. And she kissed him when he began to nervously ramble off about how he was shocked that a girl like her would actually be interested in a guy like him, and they went on a date and they began dating.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

- Taking all the lessons she learned about her father, Veronica vowed to never become like him so she was strict yet understanding, and Jughead was more lenient, however together they were a perfect molding of a safe, loving, caring, respectful parenting duo who’s kids would know that they had rules, but if they simply asked nicely and cooperated, they were essentially able to do whatever they wanted.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

- Both like to type with perfect grammar because they are lovers of literature and writing, but sometimes when Veronica is annoyed with Jughead she will text him using numbers and emoji’s and stuff like that because he’ll practically do anything to get her to stop.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

- They both are bullied for different reasons, and they protect each other. When the football jocks mess with Jughead for being a shy loner, Veronica with nothing but her sharp words will bring their resolve to the ground. And when people hound after Veronica for what her dad has done, Jughead is the first to tell them to shut up because she’s not her father, she’s better than he could even dream of and if they have a problem, take it up with him.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

- Both like to make bad puns, but Jughead does it more because it makes up a lot of his humor.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

- Veronica comes back to see Jughead holding a dirty puppy, pleading smile on his face as he explains he felt bad that the puppy’s mother died. So they take it in and it becomes another addition to the South Side Serpent’s dogs.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

- When Veronica’s feet hurt from her high heels, she hops onto Jughead’s back and he’s completely fine with it because then he can toss her onto the bed and make her laugh.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

- Both are very competitive, so when it’s not (surprisingly) against each other, they are each other’s hype man and cheer their significant other on.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

- Jughead knows Veronica hates it when he takes pictures of her without her knowing (especially if she thinks she looks ugly), so whenever she falls asleep on his shoulder he takes a picture of her to show her how cute she is later, even if she doesn’t think she looks cute.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

- Jughead. He knows Veronica has incredible taste with everybody she meets, it’s her talent and so when he wants to dress up and look good for whatever reason, he asks for her help. Sometimes, he likes to imagine he never had the shitty childhood and grew up rich when she places him in a suit and combs over his hair.

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

- Jughead, because he’s a Serpent, rescues this baby snake that Veronica is horrified of. She told him that if it ever got out of it’s enclosure and it got stepped on, it would not be her fault.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

- Jughead. Veronica’s tiny “rich person” umbrella does jack shit for rain or even sunshine so Jughead has to buy the big, bulky, usually “ugly” umbrella so neither of them end up soaked.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

- They would probably travel around the United States (for Jughead), and for Veronica, they’d travel to France because it’s the city of love  ❤️ 

I didn’t want to write so I decided to find more headcanons. I looked up “OTP questions and found this post so yeah! If you want me to take this down, just ask!

[thefirelookout]

Childhood fear

When I was four years old, I began to draw snakes in my drawing khata.

A traditional “drawing khata” is a thing of childish beauty. Sometimes it is the size of your laptop in length and breadth, sometimes it can be a bit longer, depends on the child really. Oh, sorry about that, depends on the school that the child goes to. There are usually photos of national monuments on top, and there is a little portion near the bottom where one can write their name, roll no., section and subject. This is obviously a copy for the art class, yet there is the “subject” written on top. Funny. Inside, the pages are made of cartridge paper, which is sometimes known as art/chart paper. The surface is smooth on one side, a little textured on the other. No matter how tempted you are to draw on the smooth side, thinking that your pencils and crayons would glide on smoothly, you really need to draw on the textured side. Especially if you’re a watercolour type of person. The colour bleeds into the textured surface better, and does not spread. I didn’t know all these things at the time, of course. I would open the copy and draw on whichever side, sometimes on both sides to prevent wastage. My mother says, “Opochoykari shoytaaner bondhu”. I heard the “shoytaner bhai” version much later on in life.

Four year old Mustu was homeschooled back then, an arrangement that was to last for just one year. After that, hopefully, Papa will have a better posting. Mustu will have a school to go to, hopefully, after her father’s duties ended at the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Alikadam was a pristine cantonment where all the military personnel lived in thatched huts. Only the C.O lived in a tin shed house with his wife and his two little bullies—Hridi and Odri. I liked our house better, of course. We had a proper garden at the front, a swing, a walkway with flower beds around it. I learnt the name of many flowers, and here is a song that my mother taught me—

Tomar neel dopati chokh

Ar shet dopati hashi

Khopa ti te laal dopati

Dekhte bhalobashi

Dopati is a flower. So is morog phool. I realized much later on in life that not many are interested in flowers, so I lost interest in them too.

We had a lovely backyard too, and we could plant vegetables round the year. I remember arriving there in a little blue coat, with my silky hair “mushroom cut” before the move happened, my form lean and my cheeks chubby. My lips were still very thin. When we arrived, I went to explore the backyard in the afternoon after the initial unpacking was done. Dadu held my hand as I trotted in front of her. I discovered the hens during this trip—pitch black feathers with a red “jhuti” each, as much as the nature would allow a female chicken. I burst into a rhyme immediately—

“Higgledy piggledy, my black hen,

She lays eggs for gentlemen,

Gentlemen come every day

To count what my black hen doth lay”

Dadu was absolutely delighted. Higgledy and Piggledy. My two black hens. One name, yet conveniently separated into two. You pronounce them as “Hig-ly” and “Pig-ly”. We also met the cauliflower, the cabbage and the carrots growing in the garden patch. Memories left by the “previous” 2IC uncle and his family, memories that were to become food for the new 2IC and his family, the then Major Qazi Abidus Samad. My old man didn’t have his beard back then. He was clean shaven and kinda cute, he still is kinda cute. He just smiles and nods, has never hit me or scolded me. He’s the easier parent.

One day while I was peeing, Papa was standing outside, because I was only just learning how to clean myself. In the bamboo weave of the walls, I saw something white slithering away slowly, taking its time and checking things out on its way. I looked at it for some time, still used to fear from only one source. “Papa, wall er upor diye ki jeno chole jacche, eke beke!”

The army man understood. He hurried in, brought me down from the commode and told me not to be scared. I pulled my shorts up, and fixed my frock and wore my sandals. Some men came in with a couple of “lathis”. The little snake was taken care of.

This little snake became something of a martyr to me.

I learnt that carbolic acid had some special properties, it helped ward off snakes. We snake proofed our house in the following weeks by putting bottles of carbolic acid in different corners of the house, and made sure that at least one remained in each bathroom. I was not stupid, nobody had to forbid me to touch it or sniff it or drink it or play with it. I eyed the bottles every time I went to pee at the different bathrooms, and that was that. The bottles became a part of our lives, there but not there.

I like to think that Alikadam was my starting point. Let me try and explain this feeling, or why I feel that way so strongly. Before Alikadam, I was a mere toddler. Even though my mother and khalamoni keep telling me stories from when I was little, I don’t remember being that child. I don’t remember living in Dhaka, nor do I remember what Dhaka looked like. Some of my earliest memories is of the white Toyota Papa used to drive, and that too, being driven up the twists and turns of the hilly Hill Tracts, straight to Alikadam. I get flashes of earlier memories sometimes, me reciting difficult poems (“Kukur ashiya emon kamor dilo pothiker paye/ Kamorer chote bish daat fute bish lege gelo taay”), me playing a game of tag-you’re-it that I named “Abiyala” and running after our domestic help, me staring at the TV while the azaan aired just before iftar. These memories are merely fragments, but from Alikadam, my memories somewhat solidified. I remember the colour of the cow that I first saw being sacrificed, I remember the colour of my coats and my frocks, I remember which tree I used to sit under and read to myself, I remember Dadu’s voice, her sarees, her face when I annoyed her a little too much.

I vividly remember the cat who pawed at a cake that Ammu was excited about baking. She usually makes a weird face while baking or cooking, her heart is never in it. But back then she was really into baking. I remember hearing a little “bump” and a “maw”, and then running to the dining room. Ammu had just gotten out of the shower, she had heard it too. We both saw it. A tuxedo cat, black and white, was meticulously drawing patterns on the golden, square cake still sitting in its pan. Some patterns went horizontally, some vertically, some obliquely. The cat wasn’t eating any of it even by mistake. Ammu drove it away, of course, and threw the cake away somewhere that no human being could find it. “Listen,” she explained to me, “If somebody else finds it and eats it, they’re going to have an upset stomach, so we throw this away.” Actually, she never explained anything. She never explains anything. I just made that explanation up.

My mother doesn’t talk about the important things.

I’ve been afraid of my mother for as long as I can remember. Perhaps my earliest memory is of her carrying a “bhajir kathi” also known as a khunti, also known as a spatula, only made of iron and quite painful if one falls upon your back. My earliest memory of her is her terrorizing me with one of those scalding hot bhajir kathis, she just standing there and implying that she would beat me up. I was a baby, crying was my  second nature, as it is for every other baby in the world. She would carry that spatula and display it before me as a deterrent. Fear made sure that I immediately stopped crying, not words of comfort.

I liked to fill my drawing khata with snakes for another reason.

That summer, there was a kalboishakhi jhor at least ten times more violent than what Dhaka experiences. Some of our lighter furniture was gone with the wind, one of our bigger trees in the backyard fell flat on its face. When the weather calmed down, my mother had the bright idea of picking the mangoes that the storm had brought to the ground. Dadu sat herself down on a chair at the front porch, I ran around in the bare verandah, and Ammu took a bucket with her on her mango-mission.

We suddenly heard some unintelligible mumbling from under the mango tree.

“Joleeeeeeel….Joleeeeeeel” “Ammu ki bolo?”

“Joleeeeel….Joleeeeeel”

Her voice was muffled, which is so unlike her. My mother was always shouting at anyone and anything, so I was clearly baffled at her changed behaviour. I did understand though, that she was calling one of our trustworthy Mess Waiters, Joleel bhai. He was a jolly, ever-smiling guy who never said a word extra to any children in the absence of their parents. He was just as pleasant as necessary, and I loved that about him.

And then we saw it.

A fat, patterned snake was slithering under some long, curly mango leaves on the ground. I fell in love with the pattern instantly—a glossy black stripe followed by a stripe as yellow as the insides of a kathgolap. It wasn’t moving towards Ammu at all, it was minding its own business, slithering away. I didn’t see its eyes, but could figure out where the head and the tail was. The snake, slick with rain, was just busy rummaging under the leaves for any mice or mole, perhaps.

Ammu finally found some strength in her voice. “JOLEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLL”

The Mess was nearby, so this time, there was a, “Jee khalamma!” as a reply. Joleel bhai had heard it, and probably had sensed it too. He brought a few other men with him. With sticks, of course.

The snake was a Shonkhochur. Their kind move around in pairs. So the one that died that night, under the mango tree, would have a mate lurking somewhere, ready to strike. We met the black and yellow mate too, but not before it was time to leave.

I became fascinated by the only thing that my mother was scared of, the Shongkhochur snake. I opened my drawing book one day and took some colour pencils in hand. With the pencil for writing I brought the snake’s silhouette alive in my copy, complete with the inflated head, the “fona”. I then proceeded to draw stripes. Then I was finally ready to colour it in. One black, one yellow, one black and one yellow. I realized that I had drawn a tongue too, a divided one, the type I had only seen on TV. I decided to use red for the tongue, after the colour of my own.

I tore the drawing out of the copy, and brought myself some scotch tape. I stuck four corners of it to the paper to the wall with four pieces of tape. Finally something that my mother was scared of. Finally something to make her stop when she’s blind with rage, and charging at me in full speed to hit me or taunt me.

Finally something to ward off evil.

A Shongkhochur, by the way, is a King Cobra.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Singularity Subspecies V: The Holy Land: Jerusalem: Jerusalem of Holy Sin - Chapter 4: Deals And Alliances

Chapters: Prologue - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

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

> ”Deals with a Pharaoh”

“SHE WAS HERE!”

What a delightful way to get up, Gudako thought blearily, opening her eyes to see a pair of hands holding her shoulders and shaking her into consciousness. The man holding her was absolutely out of control once more, looking around at the other two in the room.

“Where is she? Did she get hurt? Why aren’t one of you watching over her?!”

She had missed something obviously. The man was being absurdly vague on who the hell he was talking about.

“Ozy-“

“Where is my wife?”

Why would she know this?

They hadn’t been able to find her before. It was one of the reasons they were not with her currently. If they knew where that woman was, she’d probably be begging the pharaoh’s woman to please- please stop the pharaoh’s madness.

“The bloom ya got,” Cu explained, bringing light to the situation.

“Oh…. So the lady by the well was your wife?”

Ozymandias pulled back, releasing her. He looked to the other two. “Where is this well? How long was I asleep?”

“We moved locations because of a fight,” David explained. “It’s been hours and Cu and I didn’t get a look at her.”

“How would you miss seeing my wife?!”

The pharaoh was livid, rounding on the two as Gudako found herself able to finally have a moment of freedom from the pharaoh’s attention. She took a drink from David’s hands as the king argued with the pharaoh about the situation.

That was right. They’d run into the guards last night and needed to move. There had been a little boy that had called Ozymandias’ wife an angel of Solomon’s. If that was true, then perhaps the king was still in Jerusalem. She doubted that the boy would mention Solomon otherwise.

If that were the case though…

She could have Solomon around.

True, it would be before he became Romani or fought in any wars, but he’d be there.

New memories and opportunities could be created. She could have everything back in some manner.

“I cannot stay here when my wife is out there somewhere looking for me!”

“Fine,” David waved a hand. “Do not assist Gudako in trying to help figure out the problems with this singularity.”

Oh no.

“Wait!”

Gudako hurried after the pharaoh, hurrying outside.

The man was already heading down the way, his golden armor and jewels gathering the attention of every damn person out on the street. She needed to get him hidden and possibly changed into something less conspicuous immediately.

“Ozymandias!”

The pharaoh didn’t turn. She ran as fast as she could to reach him.

“Rider!” She held his arm, finding him glaring her way.

“I will not entertain you-“

“I want to help you!”

The man paused a moment before huffing.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nodded. “Then let us search with one another-“

“We need to do it with Cu Chulainn and David.”

“They are hindering-“

“They found us a hiding place! Twice!”

“And we have not found what we are looking for, have we?” Those golden eyes looked down at her. “This is not the time for hiding like mice. We must locate-“

“If Moses is against you, then he might be against Nefertari.” That was her name, right?

The man glared at her. “He would never-“

“We don’t know for sure,” Gudako warned. “Let’s be smart. I’m all for blowing our way through the city, but damn. I heard Solomon may be here.”

“Him again?” The pharaoh narrowed his gaze.

He remembered the fight against Goetia.

“…Do you think he may be influencing Moses?”

Why did he sound so hopeful?

“He might,” Gudako relented.

“Then we should think…” He sighed. “I shall allow you to assist me, Chaldean. For now. Be grateful for my willingness for viziers.”

Thank goodness. Gudako smiled a little.

“Then let’s get back and think a little more.”

They were halfway back when they heard the group speaking quietly on a doorstep.

“Did you see them?”

“No, but the men wouldn’t stop praising them and praying to God. The entire area is acting like they’re drunk.”

“What should we do?”

“We will need to tell the guards.”

The citizens glanced their way a moment before a couple men pulled out weapons.

Gudako glanced to Ozymandias and nodded.

They’d have to fight and then run.

“Watch a pharaoh and be astounded, my advisor!”

>> ”When Angels Meet”

The woman dropped from the heavens above, making her pause.

It wasn’t what she had wanted. She had wanted to simply pass through the area and find out if the fighting area was where her brother by law was. She needed to find Moses. Finding herself here, summoned by an elder who was ruthlessly killed for his magic, she had found herself alone and scared for only a short time.

Then she had heard that Moses was here.

Moses would help her. Each day she grew weaker and weaker.

Helping people here and there was okay, since it meant that she helped make people see that, even as a caster, she was a person with kindness and well meaning intentions in her heart. She was a pharaoh who cared for others and would do right by them.

Always had, always would.

The woman before her though moved to stand up.

At first glance, she almost thought the woman looked like her, but the pale complexion and the dark eyes said otherwise. The bored expression and the golden fabrics draped across her person were also very different from her own.

“You’re a servant.”

Oh, she’s got a cute voice, Nefertari thought. She nodded.

“I am a caster.”

Those dark eyes narrowed a bit, a selection of portals appearing behind her.

“Do you wish to surrender or would you care to fight?”

“Can I defer?”

The woman blinked, frowning. “Excuse me?”

Nefertari nodded, opening her own portals and pouring forth a thick mead that was one of her former pharaoh’s favorites when he had been alive. She held the cup she had brought forth out.

“…I am here to kill anyone who is interfering in this time… I was put together for that purpose.”

“Drink with me. Let us speak as sisters.”

A handful of great wooden boards slammed into the earth behind her. She could feel the air around them becoming thicker. She could almost taste the intoxicating drink in the air.

“I,” the woman spoke slowly, “am not a goddess to take being insulted with meager swill lightly.”

“Nor am I, but I’m willing to relent that another may make drink just as fine.”

She was Hathor in spirit, the sweet goddess of admiring and of fine drink. She would not allow someone to belittle her, but the woman before her seemed off.

This woman felt entirely different.

Not a goddess…

Humans were leaving their homes around them, moving to watch as the strange woman moved closer to her.

Her entire body was glinting a bit, like she had sprung forth from a spring rather than walked and climbed around through this dusty city. Her jewelry jingled on her person as she looked down at the cup still being offered to her.

Holding her hands, the woman lifted the cup.

Nefertari drank the first few sips.

The woman drank the next few sips.

“…You truly do not intend to do anything to this city?”

Nefertari shook her head. “My master was an elder in this place. He spoke of fond memories and a loving king named Solomon.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone. He was slaughtered for practicing mystic arts.”

The woman scoffed, glancing to the humans nearby. More of the mist rose. Nefertari could see the people tripping over themselves, clinging to one another.

“You’re intoxicating them,” Nefertari accused.

“My master draws near. I need to figure out what has happened to me… I feel… different.”

“Ah! So you aren’t a goddess!”

Those brown eyes flashed gold. Pure, melted gold!

So beautiful!

Nefertari let the cup from her hands vanish back into the portal from whence it had come, her hands cupping the woman’s cheeks.

“You’re beautiful!”

“Ah- I am plain.”

“No no! I like this! Join me!”

“What?”

Yes, she would have this beautiful stranger help her to reach her brother by law. They could help fix all that had gone wrong with this place. This woman could be at her side and help her to fix all that had gone wrong in this city.

“I am a master… but I am not a master… I’m a goddess…” the woman told her. Her eyes returned to that brown color from before. “…I can’t remember what happened before, but this goddess in my head says that I cannot trust anyone.”

“Stay with me then!”

Those brown eyes opened again.

“My brother and my master would have called you an angel,” she told the woman. “You gift happiness, even if you give too much! I will help you sort out the truth of who you are if you help me find my family and repair this city.”

“This city has darkness in it.”

It did. Nefertari nodded at that.

She wasn’t afraid of that though. If anything, it made her smile more. With this pretty woman’s face in her hands and her power all around them, she had no doubts.

They would be an unstoppable pair, two sisters in liquor-making and in war.

“Please help me find my brother, Moses!”

The woman glanced behind them, at the portals forming in the air not far from where they were, maybe a street over.

She could feel the woman hoist her up into her arms.

“I am Ninkasi… I think,” the woman told her.

“I am Nefertari,” she told Ninkasi in response. “May I call you by your class name? I assume you are a servant too.”

“Ruler.”

“Ruler.” Nefertari nodded. She felt herself hugged to the woman’s side and watched as a set of portals were opened. A great flood of liquor was poured into the streets, flooding the ground all around them.

The people were leaving their homes, running into the night streets to drink to their heart’s content.

But they were gone.

She hugged her new friend close.

Ninkasi.

The woman was an angel for sure.

She was like a pharaoh herself.

[lacrossepapi]

Curled Up

Thank you so much to the mods for making this banner and running this awesome event! I’m so excited to see everyone else’s works! @steterweek

Day one: Alpha Peter or AND Creature Stiles

Ao3 Link

“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she loudly barged into the once quiet house.

“Ah my favorite niece has returned from prison.” Peter said with faux cheer making Laura elbow him hard in the gut.

“I don’t know why you expected for that to go over well.” Derek chuckled from the dining room table.

“I am your alpha and this is how you treat me? I never!” Peter crooned, a hand placed dramatically over his heart.

Saturday nights with nieces and nephew around him and a book in his hand was not the way he had envisioned spending his adult life, but Peter wouldn’t trade his boring life for anything. His parents had died when he was twenty-three leaving him an alpha, and his sister a grieving mess. Talia had handled her grief by hitting the road; her husband had left to go find her, yet neither had returned. Laura had been six at the time and the only one that still has memories of Talia and Joseph. Every year the kids got postcards and presents for their birthdays and Christmas, but each year the gifts only seemed to highlight the emotional and physical distance between them and their parents. Peter considered himself a great surrogate father, but those first few years had been incredibly hard. Laura had blamed him for Talia and Joseph’s absence; Derek asked every morning and every evening when his parents were coming home, and Cora had been just a baby at the time. Peter had only thought vaguely about having his own children when he suddenly had three to take care of all on his own.

Looking back now, past all the struggles and hardships, Peter was almost glad Talia and Joseph had left him with the precious gift of their children. These kids had changed him into a much kinder man, one that lived a quiet happy life, and Peter was forever in their debt for the joy they gave him.

“Oh cool a snake!” came Cora’s excited voice from the patio, alerting Peter that he had approximately two seconds before Derek and Laura were going to freak out.

Peter clapped his hands to his ears and shot off the couch in time to miss Derek’s full bodied tackle and Laura’s ear splitting scream as she too launched herself in the direction of where Peter had been sitting.

“Now children! Calm down!” Peter shouted over the yelps of the eldest Hale children as he sent soothing thoughts down their pack bonds.

“Oh shit. Uncle come here! I think it’s hurt!” Cora’s voice was frantic, yet wet like she was already about to cry.

His sweet, kind hearted bad ass niece couldn’t stand when animals were hurt and it made his heart warm and break everytime she cried over an innocent creature. He left the quietly panicking young adults and made his way out to his brave Cora-baby and the wounded snake.

He froze as his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw that the snake was curled in Cora’s lap and blood was covering her legs where the poor thing was laying.

“I’ll call Deaton. Can you tell what type of snake it is?” Peter said calmly.

“Uncle, I think he’s a shifter.” Cora breathed.

“What do you mean he’s a shifter?” Peter asked as her stepped closer to sniff the air around his niece and the snake.

“He isn’t acting like a normal snake. He let me pick him up and look at his wounds, he came out of the woods and headed directly for me. He hasn’t hissed at me once. And the way he’s looking at you makes me think he knows you’re an alpha.” Cora’s words were calm and her body didn’t move at all just in case she was wrong and really did have a wounded animal in her lap.

Peter yelled for Laura to call Deaton before crouching down to look the snake in the eye, “Can you flash your eyes at me, sweet thing?”

Peter had never met a weresnake before and so he expected either beta orange or the more yellow-orange of the only other shifter he’d met who was a coyote, instead he was greeted with a gold like burnt honey. He gasped in the face of that bright beauty before he collected himself and slowly reached a hand out to touch the snake’s small body. The wounded creature did not move away or try to strike out, but instead slowly, painfully, lifted its head to meet his hand. Such a beautiful, strong little thing. Peter felt himself drawn to the strength and intelligence he saw in the snake’s gaze.

“It’s called hypermelanism.” Cora’s voice jarred Peter from the almost trance like state he’d been.

He made a questioning sound as he finally gently placed his hand on the beautiful scales and started drawing out the poor thing’s pain.

“His scales. I have been searching the internet while you two were communicating or whatever, and I’m pretty sure he’s a chocolate morph California Kingsnake with hypermelanism. The chocolate scales with only a splash of copper on his belly that gives him that metallic look is very distinct so it didn’t take long to figure it out.” Cora explained.

Peter hummed an agreeing sound, too caught up in the tidal waves of pain he was draining to speak.

-

“I did not scream.” Laura demanded with a childish stomp, “Besides, he’s a person! I’m not scared of a shifter.”

“So you admit you were scared of a snake?” Derek asked with a smirk.

“I remember you jumping around with your underwear in a twist with her nephew dear.” Peter reminded him from the kitchen.

Derek flushed a bright red, mumbling “Well at least I'm not a snake nerd that figured out the breed and morph before the vet even arrived.” before crossing his arms and making his exit.

“Such a spoilsport.” Cora laughed.

Peter hummed in agreement before asking, “Do you still have all the snake stuff from the last time you found one?”

Cora nodded before she ran up to the storage room, that had once been the master bedroom.

“Can you manage to go buy this guy some mice? Deaton said he has to be with an alpha to help the healing, but he’s going to need some food soon. I can’t take him with me to go hunt.” Laura gave him a disgusted face, “Fine. I’ll get your baby sister to do it so she can mock you for being a scaredy wolf again. Your call darling.” Peter knew Laura would fold under the threat of more ridicule, and she did.

“I feel weird about putting him in the tank, he is a person too.” Cora said as she entered the kitchen again.

Peter looked at the sleeping creature in his lap and sighed, “I know baby, but he’s injured and the last thing he needs is to get trampled by one of us because he can’t move fast enough to get out of the way. He blends in with our floors, so we’d never see him and you know that. We don’t have to put the lid on it though since he isn’t a normal snake. We’ll set him up on my desk by my bed so he stays close to an alpha through the night, but other than that we have to treat him like a regular snake until he’s healed or shifts back.”

He reached out a hand and gently rubbed a circle on Cora’s back before continuing, “He’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to him Cora-baby.”

-

A weird fluttering motion on Peter’s cheek had him cracking open a tired eye to look into the snake’s smiling face. Peter hadn’t even known snake’s could smile, maybe they can’t but it sure did look like a smile.

“Good morning little one.” Peter’s voice was a low grumble and the snake squeezed his arm in greeting.

He had no idea how he hadn’t woken up when the little devil snuck out of his tank and wrapped himself around Peter’s arm.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked knowing the snake couldn’t verbally reply, but hoped it could make some kind of body motion to tell him if the poor thing was still in pain.

The snake squeezed once again, which Peter took to mean he was feeling better. Good.

Peter tapped one thick finger on the snake’s head and said, “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself by sneaking out of the tank you little devil.”

The snake pulled it’s head back and tilted it as if asking “How could you accuse me of that?”

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes, “Come on, I bet you’re hungry.”

“Jesus fucking christ!” Laura shouted, dropping the rag she had been drying her hands on.

“Nope. Just Uncle Peter, but thanks for the warm welcome, Laura-darling.”

“Oh shove it Peter.” Laura grumbled under her breath, earning herself a light punch to the arm as Peter passed her.

Peter grabbed one of the mice from the cage Laura had brought in and placed it in the sink before gently guiding the snake onto the counter.

“Jesus. Fuck. I didn’t need to see that this early.” Derek groaned from the entrance to the kitchen, his hair still standing up ridiculously.

“Contrary to popular belief I’m just your Uncle Peter. Good morning to you too, nephew dear” Peter smiled at his sleepy nephew and offered the boy the mug of coffee he’d poured for Derek.

At the sound of thundering steps coming down the stairs Peter lifted the lunch box, that he packed Cora’s breakfast and lunch into, and the purple thermos full of coffee into the air, only to be snatched out of his hands immediately.

“Thanks! Gotta go! Love you!” Cora called over her shoulder as she raced out of the house, followed by a chorus of “love you too”s.

“Thank god we aren’t in highschool anymore.” Derek sighed, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sleepily ate his pancakes.

“Do either of you work today or are you just going to laze around the house?” Peter asked, one eyebrow raised in judgement.

“We get it Uncle Peter.” Derek sighed.

“Yeah, we know.” Laura frowned, faux irritated.

Brother and sister joined forces to say, “When I was your age I was raising three kids on my own and trying to write a novel!” dramatically and in sync.

Peter just waved away their playful mocking, “If you can repeat that back to me then the meaning should be clear by now. I just want you two to find your passion and run with it. We have the rare privilege of being able to chase our dreams. Don't waste it my loves.”

Almost identical faces nodded solemnly at his words, their minds wandering to questions of the future.

“Well we know what Cora will be doing at least.” Laura said with a fond smile.

“Ah yes. Speaking of our little veterinarian in the making I need to go check on our new friend.” Peter remembered the snake he’d left on the counter to eat his breakfast.

“That's my cue to leave.” Laura said hurriedly as she pushed her chair back and rushed to the door.

“Have a good day Laura-darling. Love you.” Peter called from the sink, Derek yelling something similar.

They heard the faint “love you too" Laura yelled from the driveway before getting in her car.

Peter had been slightly worried that the snake would be too injured to handle live prey, and was relieved to see him curled happily in the corner of the sink, swollen where the mouse was digesting.

-

“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she barged into the once peaceful house.

“How was jail?” Peter asked from his place on the couch.

“Hi home, I’m Derek.” Derek called out from the kitchen before giving a loud snort of laughter at his own joke.

“Fucking nerd.” Cora mumbled as she set her bags down by the door.

“It seems our little devil missed you.” Peter said with a smile as the chocolate snake that was curled around his forearm began slithering up his arm and across his shoulders to flick its tongue out in greeting.

“Hey there little guy. How ya feelin’?” Cora murmured to the pleased snake.

The snake slid up onto Cora’s outstretched hand and curled himself around her arm.

“He’s physically healed by now, so when do you think he’ll be okay to shift back?” Laura asked more likely out of a desire to not see a snake every day than concern for the creature’s well being.

“He can shift back whenever he wants. He should’ve finished healing earlier today.” Peter informed with a shrug.

Cora laughed as the little devil let out a quiet hiss in Laura’s direction before moving across her shoulders to watch Laura haughtily.

-

Peter woke up wrapped too tightly in the blankets and burning up. He cracked his eyes open and was met with messy brown hair and pale skin instead of his navy comforter. His brain was instantly running at normal speed, shaking off sleep quickly. The snake had finally shifted back, but was it on purpose or did he shift back in his sleep? If Peter spooked him he could easily shift back and remain a snake until he was comfortable again.  

Peter decided to slowly wake him up and try to keep him as comfortable as possible. The boy was completely wrapped around Peter; one leg hiked high on Peter’s hips, the other was hooked around Peter at their ankles. He had one arm across Peter’s chest, his hand gripping Peter’s collar bone, and one arm curled around Peter’s arm that was between their bodies. The boy’s head was resting on Peter’s chest and tilted away from view, so Peter still had no idea what he looked like or how old he was.

Peter slowly reached with his free hand and started rubbing slow circles up and down the boy’s arm before he mumbled lowly, “Little devil. Wake up my little demon. It’s time to get up honey.”

The most gorgeous boy Peter had ever seen blinked sleepily at him and let out a questioning hiss, giving Peter a wonderful view of the boy’s pouty mouth and sensuous tongue behind pretty teeth.

“You shifted back Little devil. Can you talk yet?” Peter murmured lowly, still rubbing slow circles on the boy’s arm.

The boy blinked again and looked down at his pale arm that still rested on Peter’s bare chest. He slowly looked back up into Peter’s eyes, amber meeting oceanic blue, before letting out a yelp and shooting off the bed.

“Oh god I’m so sorry!” The boy started panicking, his heart beat loud in the once quiet room.

Before Peter could try to calm the boy down his bedroom door burst open and a frantic, half awake Cora was in his doorway shouting, “Is everything okay? Why are both of you freaking out?” a pause as her eyes caught up with her mouth, “You shifted back! Hello! Did Uncle freak you out?”

The boy didn’t even have time to blame Peter before Cora was hitting him on the shoulder with more force than necessary.

“I haven’t done anything. Our guest here has only just realized he shifted back in his sleep.” Peter explained calmly, standing up to put on clothes.

“How did you hear our hearts?” the boy inquired, his panic giving way to curiosity.

“Our Cora-baby here has the best hearing, but she apparently didn't have the frame of mind to recognize that two human hearts were racing.” Peter answered, raising one eyebrow at Cora for not realizing the snake had shifted and that was why he was panicking.

Cora gave a weak, awkward laugh before mumbling, “Well I’ll leave you two alone to talk alpha to snake or whatever.”

Peter smiled at the closing door before tossing the boy a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

“You can put those on if you want.” Peter sat on the bed before continuing, “What’s your name sugar?”

“Stiles.” The boy answered quietly as he pulled the shorts on.

“Hello Stiles. My name is Peter and I am the Hale Alpha. Do you have a pack or family I should contact?” Peter asked, getting the formalities out of the way.

“No.” This reply was quieter.

“Okay, love. How old are you?” Peter asked finally turning to look at the now dressed boy.

“I’m twenty.” Stiles replied, this one at least was a normal response.

“So you’re in between Derek and Cora’s ages. That’s good. Why were you hurt?”

“A werejaguar hunted my family, and I was the only one able to escape.” The words a whisper in the quiet room.

“Why would it do that?”

“My father is a sheriff and had connected her to several homicides. She killed him first. My mother and I were on the run for two years before she found us two towns over. I’m harder to track and fight when I’m shifted so I ran after she-” Stiles broke off as tears began falling down his face harder than before.

Peter approached the boy slowly and pulled him into a tight hug, one hand softly rubbing circles in the boy’s back. He didn’t know who this boy was, who his parents had been, but he was going to end his suffering so that the boy could have peace and justice for his parents.

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Peter mumbled into the boy’s hair, gently rocking them side to side.

Stiles slumped further into his arms and sighed “Werewolves are so warm.”

Peter smiled and continued to comfort the boy until he realized the boy in his arms was asleep.

“Well that’s one way to calm down.” Peter chuckled to himself before swaying them over to the bed and laying Stiles down.

-

“As long as he doesn’t get his weird snake body on me I am happy.”

“Oh shut up. He probably doesn’t even want to touch you to begin with.”

“Children. Please.”

“I’ll be happy to have him Uncle Peter.”

“Thank you nephew dear. Girls?”

“You know I’m in Uncle!”

“Yes Peter.”

“Good. Now if you’re finished listening in, Stiles, please join us.”

Shit. He’d been caught. Of course he’d been caught they were werewolves, and he knew that at least one of them could hear his heartbeat across the house in Peter’s bedroom. Stiles hung his head guiltily as he entered the living room where the four werewolves had been discussing something about him. He hoped they were discussing keeping him, not eating him or something.

“Hi.” was all Stiles could say as he sat down next to Peter in the only available seat.

“Hello Stiles.” Cora chirped with a cheery wave.

He smiled at her before turning to look into Peter’s very handsome face. He tried to push down the memory of Peter’s stirring dick against his thigh when he’d awoken and realized he was naked and sprawled atop Peter’s only slightly more clothed body. When he was shifted he knew he prefered Peter’s heat and arms to Cora’s, but both human and snake had always been a fan of thick meaty arms. It’d been so long since Stiles had been able to actually think about love and sex and ending up in Peter’s lap, literally and metaphorically, had been a blessing because the man checked every single one of Stiles’ boxes.

“I didn’t hear much.” Stiles mumbled, unable to look into Peter’s intense eyes.

“That doesn’t bother me sugar. Listen to anything you want. We hear everything anyways.” Peter used two fingers to lift Stiles’ face to look at him properly before continuing, “I have something to ask you sweet boy.”

Stiles immediately flushed as ideas of things he wished Peter would ask him flashed through his mind.

“Shoot.” was all he could force out without risking saying something embarrassing like “Yes I will go down on you.”

“Would you like to join our pack? We can protect you and I can help you get justice for your parents. I want to help you Stiles, and my pack has agreed that we want you.”

Stiles was speechless. All thoughts of sexy time with Peter were drowned out by the wave of grief he felt at the mention of his parents deaths, but then that too was replaced with bright, shiny hope as he realized just how much protection he could have if he was surrounded by four grown werewolves. Peter was giving him a boon and Stiles was floored by his generosity.

“You don’t have to reply right-”

Stiles cut Peter off by hurriedly saying, “Yes! Yes Alpha Hale please accept me into your pack.”

“With pleasure sweet boy.” Peter’s grin was so blinding in its beauty that Stiles almost didn’t hear the happy words the Hale betas were saying to him.

-

“Thank you Peter.” Stiles knew it was the fifth time he’d thanked his alpha, but he honestly wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon so he didn’t feel bad about it.

“Anything for you my sweet boy.” Peter spoke lowly, his voice a rough whisper across Stiles cheek as his hands came up to cup Stiles’ face.

“You’re so good to me.” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes against the intensity of Peter’s gaze.

“You’re good to me too, love. Have been since that first night. I sleep better with you in my bed. I breathe better with you in the room. I am better with you in my life.” Peter’s confession left his lips and wrapped itself tightly around Stiles’ heart much like the many times he had wrapped himself around Peter.

“You’ve saved me.” Stiles breathed out his eyes still shut tight against his and Peter’s feelings.

“I will always make sure you’re safe. You’re mine, little devil” Peter only used the name he’d give Stiles all those months of pining and sexual tension ago when he was just a nameless injured snake that Peter had protected.

“Will you be mine, Alpha?” Stiles asked, finally opening his eyes to look at Peter’s blood smeared body, knowing it matches his own, and his heated gaze.

“Whatever you want my sweet little devil.” Peter whispered before closing the gap and kissing Stiles beside the cooling corpse of his parents’ murderer.

[ofnifflersandkings]

Title: Pain of Parting Character: Jonathan Byers A/n: I loved jonathan so much during the first season, his character was really interesting so I decided to write somethin’ for him. I guess we could call this angst so there’s your warning if that’s not your jam.

•

“Do you have to go?” Jonathan asked as he sat cross-legged on your bed, chin in his hands as he watched you move clothes from your closet to a large suitcases that laid open at the foot of your mattress.

“You know I have to,” You told him as you met his gaze with a smile. “My family always insists that we go up to the lakehouse every odd summer. We haven’t been up there in over three years. So yes, I do.”

Jonathan got quiet, his hands were busy pulling at loose peices of string that had been caught on one of your blankets.

You looked up from your folding and noticed the sad expression on his face. You’d known him for a handful of years, and you knew he wasn’t very much of a people person. Apart from you, he didn’t have many close friends.

You set aside your clothes and sat down beside him. “You shouldn’t be sad, I’m only going to be gone until August,” You told him, reaching up and running your hands through his hair. “You can phone me whenever you’d like, and I’ll write to you. Two months and I’ll be right back

Jonathan moved his head to your shoulder, his eyes closing whenever you continued to play with his hair. “Really?”

You looked down at him. “Have I ever let you down before?”

•~•

Jonathan stopped over by your house the day you were supposed to leave, he wanted a chance to say goodbye.

You were already out in the drive away, helping your dad figure out a way to put all the suitcases into the trunk of the car.

“Here, I’m gonna get a few more things from the house. Maybe your mother will be better at this.” Your dad said, giving you a small tap on the nose before jogging inside.

You brushed off your hands on your overalls before you looked over and saw Jonathan awkwardly standing to the side with his hands in his pockets.

“Jonathan!” You called, waving him over. “Come to say bye?”

Jonathan nodded, shifting his weight back and forth as he tried to think of what to say. “I already said it, but I’m gonna miss you.”

You smiled at him. “Don’t be like that, when I come back you talk my ear off about all the stuff you did and we’ll still have all of August to hang out.”

Jonathan met your gaze and he reached out to pull you into a hug.

You laughed and returned his embrace, pulling away as you gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” You told him, taking a step back towards your car.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you.” He told you with a wave.

You waved back before turning on your heel.

You walked about five paces before Jonathan called you back.

You went to turn around but Jonathan was already there, and before you could even process anything he bent down and gave you a quick kiss.

“Bye.” Jonathan said once he pulled away and quickly made a run for it down the street while you watched him with wide eyes.

•~•

“Jonathan!” Joyce called as she entered the house, her hands busy shuffling through the mail she collected. “You have something from (Y/n)!”

Jonathan came quickly out of his room, only coming to a halt whenever he was in front of his mother. “Yes?”

Joyce looked up at her son and smiled, she handed him a letter and a cardboard box. “These are for you.”

Jonathan took them and a bright smile showed up on his face as he looked down at them. “Thanks.”

He hurried back into his room, setting the box aside on his nightstand before he tore apart the envelope.

You wrote about how nice the lakehouse was, how pretty the scenery was and about all the little adventures you and your family had so far on your trip.

Jonathan noticed you had drawn small doodles of rabbits and frogs all over the paper, they were even painted with the set of watercolors he had given you on your birthday.

He saved up for them for months, and it showed by how proud he was when he gave it to you and saw that you loved it.

“I sent along a box as well,” Jonathan read as he looked over and grabbed it, taking a minute to tear off the tape, he looked inside to find a small collection of things.

“The pencils are for Will, he had given me some of his drawings to keep and I thought he might like these. The earrings are for your mum, and be sure to tell her that I insist she accept them, she deserves it.

I’ve got you a gift as well, but I plan to give it to you in person.

Lots of love,”

•~•

Everyday after that, Jonathan had made it a habit to ask his mother if there was a letter from you.

“Anything from (Y/n)?”

“Did (Y/n) send a letter today?”

You would send at least one every week, but he still felt the need to ask just in case.

Until one day he noticed about two weeks had passed without word from you. Joyce would come home and gently let him know there was nothing, but reasoned the post was just being slow or you were busy with your family.

And at first Jonathan understood, he thought it was a reasonable explanation, so he stopped worrying about it.

Jonathan was driving home from picking a few things up from the grocery store for his mom, but he drove by your house and noticed that your family car was parked in the driveway.

You would have called to let him know you were coming home early, you probably would’ve gone to his house yourself if wasn’t late.

His curiosity was peaked, and he parked his car across the street before ringing your doorbell.

“Hello?” Your sister answered the door, and Jonathan was slightly taken back by her appearance.

Her eyes were puffy and red, she looked like she’d been crying for hours.

“Oh Jonathan, it’s you.” She said as she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her shirt sleeve.

“Yeah uh, is (Y/n) here?” He asked, slightly alarmed by how distressed she looked.

If possible, her face got even more somber. “I guess it’s best to just tell you, but…” She broke off into a small series of sobs before continuing. “We were up at the lakehouse, and her and dad went out on the boat. No one knows what’s happened to them but they’ve been missing for a couple days.”

It took Jonathan a few moments to register what she was saying, and he was surprised by his lack of reaction.

“Of course, we don’t want to assume the worst, but no one can find them and it’s been days.” She said with a vacant laugh before shaking her head. “Wait here for a moment.”

Jonathan watched her disappear into the house, trying to understand why his mind was going blank at a time when he should feel sad or angry even.

But he didn’t.

“She mentioned that this was for you,” Your sister said once she returned. “She seemed pretty proud of it.” There was that sad laugh again as she held a wrapped package out to him.

“I’m so sorry,” Jonathan said, taking it from her.

Your sister nodded, her hand was now covering her mouth as tears piled up at the edges of her eyes. “She was very fond of you, talked about you a great deal.”

Jonathan looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

•~•

Jonathan drove home in silence.

He didn’t even turn the radio on.

When he stepped through his front door he was met with more silence, Joyce must have been working late again.

Jonathan closed his door whenever he went inside, his eyes remaining fixated on your present to him.

He didn’t want to open it.

You told him you wanted to give it to him in person.

You told him you were going to come back.

Why didn’t you come back?

Jonathan's hands were tearing away at the wrapping before he registered what he was doing. He then pulled out a leather sketchbook, he could vaguely remember times whenever you’d come over to his house and you’d be doodling around in it, refusing to show him the end results.

He undid the leather straps that kept it closed, and flipped through the first couple of pages.

He wasn’t surprised to find several pencil sketches of various animals, rabits and little mice in particular. Some of them were life-like while others were dressed in little jackets and hats, having tea parties by a river.

Jonathan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, despite the whirl of emotions going through his head, he found himself smiling.

To his surprise, the next pages were filled with portraits. Some were of him, others were of Will or even Joyce, they were all smiling in each of them.

He spent the next couple of minutes going through the rest of it, and he found himself growing disappointed whenever he was reaching the end.

On the very last page, there was a small handwritten note instead.

“I’ve been working on this one for awhile, but I thought you’d like to have it once it was finished.

I know you’re not a fan of pictures of yourself, but I hope you won’t mind a few sketches.

All my love xx (Y/n)”

You always had nice handwriting, it was always in cursive.

Suddenly, a wet spot appeared onto the page, Jonathan didn’t even realize it until it started smudging your signiture.

Another one showed up on the corner of the page, and he brought his hand up to realize tears were falling freely from his eyes.

A few tears slowly turned into sobs, then he was laying on the side of his bed, holding your sketchbook tightly against his chest while he cried.

Why didn’t you come back?