#I do wonder how we feel so confident handing over so many crucial tasks to technology

[cheekygreenty]

Hi, I just saw your prompt list for Shadow&Bone!! could you possibly do No. 2 from Angst, but like with a happy ending? Like reader n Kirigan are togeather but then Alina's comes along.. just, please let be happy at the end. I like angst, but my heart can't handle sad endings 😢😢 thank you!!! ❤❤

Future- The Darkling x Reader

(Very very angsty with a happy (?) ending. It made me cry a lil bit writing it ngl)

You trusted him, wholeheartedly. At least that's what you told yourself every day since she came to the Little Palace; the place you had always called home, where you felt safe from the prying eyes of the public.

Yet now, the place was fueled by harsh rumors of him and her. Everywhere you went you could hear a whisper, nobody tried to hide it anymore, the words were always entirely devoted to your crumbling union;

'I thought they were happy'

We were.

'How can he and Alina not be together, it's destiny.'

I'm starting to think so too.

You didn't acknowledge it. Just put on a sweet smile and a brave face. Don't let them see you're hurting. Even in your own home, you had to pretend and lie, which at the end of the day, when you laid in an empty bed, made you exhausted.

He told you she meant nothing more to him than a mere weapon. But that was when she first came and when he still managed to make it to your shared chambers and would whisper sweet nothings as you fell asleep.

It was different now, on more than one occasion you caught a glimpse of them together, him looking at her the way he always looked at you. However much he claimed to be a good actor and manipulator, there was something there and he couldn't deny it either.

You hadn't confronted him about it yet fearing that if you did, the truth would hurt and sting and make all those rumors true. In addition, you haven't seen him in days and the last time you did, he told you to stay away from the wonderful Sun-Summoner.

The truth was you knew deep down in your heart that she wasn't at fault. That she was not the root of the problem. You constantly fought with yourself to stop any hatred you felt towards her. She was lovely, kind compassionate, and innocent. She didn't deserve to feel your wrath.

But with that came the confusion of who to blame. You or Him. It made you tired and weak. The smallest of tasks made you drained and tears would well in your eyes at the thought of having to live another day like this, a day full of questioning yourself and the man you loved more than anything in the world.

No matter how much of a strong person you swore you were, this was taking a substantial toll on you. He had become your support network and he knew it, he loved it. He always said he finally felt appreciated when you came around, that he wasn't alone anymore. He had conditioned you to be this way. When times got tough, he was always your shoulder to cry on.

No doubt that shoulder was now next to Alina. Perhaps they went on a horse ride, visited the Black Heretic fountain, or were enjoying a rendezvous next to the lake.

You didn't want to know, all that mattered was that he wasn't there with you when you were falling apart. Maybe you relied on him too much.

You wondered if he noticed the whispers too, or the way you'd been missing crucial meetings, or even if he noticed you wearing your red kefta more often, ditching the black once you'd heard Genya speak of making a golden-black kefta for Alina, per the Darkling's request.

That was a punch in the gut. It hurt more than him avoiding conversation with you or even his deterrence of touching you. He had bestowed his colors to her when not even three months ago he didn't know she existed. It had taken you a long time to gain his trust and don his signature black yet all she had to do was waltz in and show up. And it hurt.

And now here you were, training the next generation of heartrenderers, as you did almost every day. You had given your life to the Little Palace and its Grisha and this is how you were being repaid. Not even Ivan, who you had shaped into an excellent soldier, had looked your way lately.

'Excuse me Ms. Y/L/N I have an urgent request from the General' You whipped your head around to the young Grisha boy with an obviously hurt look on your face which he couldn't understand.

'Of course' you choked out and took the piece of paper from his hands and watched him in sorrow as he left.

Ms.Y/L/N? what happened to moya sovereignny? You were never one to uphold the formality, but this was just another blow to your confidence. You were no longer referred to as his other half which only meant your position in the palace was quickly dwindling.

You opened the wax-sealed envelope and took out the thick sheet of paper. There was a time when he himself would deliver the news to you himself and use it as an excuse to spend extra time with you.

'I cannot make it to the meeting with the King this evening, attend and report back to me anything relevant, no horse business'

You scoffed loudly, drawing attention from the young Corporalki around you and leaned on the table in front of you. Not even a please or thank you. With the note clutched in your hand and tears of frustration in your eyes, you stormed out of the Corporalki room and towards his war room.

You peeked through the open door and seen him. He didn't look at all busy as he chatted with Zoya, Ivan, Fedyor, and some other Squaller you didn't recognize. Zoya threw her head back in laughter at something Fedyor said but Aleksander kept his stony expression. You threw the door open dramatically and everyone froze.

'Leave us' you cautioned as Aleksander's onyx eyes looked right into your own.

Nobody moved but Zoya was the first to speak ' Y/N, we're actually in a meeting if you couldn't tell' while everyone nodded along, except him.

You never had anything against anyone in that room, but in that moment you couldn't help yourself and used your small science to bring everyone to their knees in front of you, except him.

'Leave us' His voice rang out in the midst of their sharp breaths and chest-clutching. They scrambled to their feet and left one by one, Fedyor quietly muttering 'moya sovereignny' as he passed you which filled you with some courage. The door shut and the sound echoed over the walls.

You threw the note across the room and let it hit his arm. 'Did you forget your manners General? Or does it only apply to the people you claim to love?'

'Funny you should say that Y/N, you haven't attended any meetings in weeks without providing a reason. You're making me look like a fool'

'I'M MAKING YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL?!' Your tears were now streaming down your face, falling quicker than you could wipe them away.

He stayed silent and that broke your heart even more, he could've said something, anything.

'Aleksander, I'm trying to keep myself together for everyone, I'm trying so very hard to appear normal and happy but I don't think I can do this any longer. The whispers and the rumors, watching you and her-' You slid down the door and sat on the floor, head resting on your knees. '-It's getting to me.... and it's killing me.'

You thanked the Saints you didn't see his face, for the silence spoke for itself. He didn't deny anything or reach out to comfort you. I've lost him.

'All I wanted was a happy ending.' You laughed a sad laugh that pulled at his heartstrings. With your eyes still facing away from him, you didn't see his hand go up to wipe the lone tear that fell down his face or the slight shake in his hands as he did so. He had no words that would comfort you. He knew what he'd done. He'd been avoiding you ever since he realized it. He didn't want to see you cry or see how his actions affected you.

Telling you that it means nothing to him was of no use. You had it in your mind now, forever engrained around his name, the rumors wouldn't stop and Alina was still around. He truly felt nothing of importance for her. All she meant for him was a key to a better future with you.

He approached you slowly, getting down on his knees next to you. He took your hand in his and held it up to his lips. He never prayed, but right now he silently muttered words to all the Saints. Don't let her leave.

'I'm so sorry Darling. Y/N I love you so much.'

'But you love her more' You yanked your hands away.

'NO. no. Y/N. I swear it. You are everything to me' He had grown serious now, he wanted you to look at him. He missed you.

'Then explain why you're parading her around like a Queen, letting her wear your colors, probably sleeping in her bed'

'I have never toucher her in that way. I'm yours Y/N.' Please look at me.

You lifted your head and looked at his beautiful face. He too looked tired, exhausted. His eyes were red and puffy. Saints, I've never seen him cry.

'You will have a happy ending. I promise Darling' He took your face into his hands and connected your foreheads together. 'I promise. I'm doing everything I can to make sure you will, and even if I can't, I swear you will you and our children-'

Children. Aleksander never spoke of them to the point where you had settled with the idea you'll never have them. Something about the desperation in his voice made you believe him, Aleksander was strong, he never gave up but he also never sacrificed himself for anybody. Up until now, you didn't think yourself worthy enough to be saved in exchange for him.

'-I would give up everything to see you and them safe, away from harm's way. Right now, the world doesn't deserve them, but once I do what I have to do, I'll give you children. However many you want, Just stay. Please'

You were borderline hysterical as you melted into his embrace. Weeks of frustration and hurt disappeared into thin air. Aleksander held you so tight you were having trouble breathing but you didn't care. He held you all day and all night. All meetings and tasks forgotten.

He explained everything in detail, from the stag and firebird to what happens if things don't go to plan. He kept nothing from you, not even the stress and pressure he felt. You comforted him as he always does to you. You fell asleep together and dreamed of a life with a happy ending, one where you never had to doubt his motives, you dreamed of your future.

Taglist (if you want to be added, plz tell me!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld

@0-artemis

[mfkinanaa]

CANCER RISING.

Born with Cancer on your Ascendant (or Rising), self-realization comes through a sophisticated attunement to your highly developed feeling nature.

You make sense of life through instinct and emotion.

You are likely to experience strong intuitions, and at times psychic sensibilities, and will therefore need to learn the difference between insight and projection.

Because you are so sensitive, you must recognize the impact that this can have on you.

You will need to acknowledge your sensitivity, accept your desire to nurture and support others, and acknowledge when this sensitivity leads you to take on too much, or become overly responsible for how others feel.

Learning to use your intuition to guide your choices is an important skill.

Self-awareness will grow as you develop emotional intelligence.

Your Home is Your Castle.

You may be very adaptable to change in your external circumstances, but need a peaceful and secure home base for your foundation. Home is very important, providing a sanctuary from the outside world. You may have a tendency to switch off and retreat here from time to time, especially when hurt, depressed, uncertain or confused.

You are likely to need clean, comfortable surroundings, and will prefer the company of refined people who can appreciate your unique qualities. Often close to family and friends, you are probably domesticated, with good cooking skills, as well as very capable on the work front.

However, a love of travel means that it is important to have the means to be able to get up and go. You may enjoy frequent changes of environment, allowing you to soak up the most of what life has to offer by soaking up the atmospheres of unfamiliar places.

Business Smarts.

Cancer rising gives business acumen, and you could do well as an entrepreneur owing to your heightened sense of how to cater to public tastes. You bring a practical, cautious yet determined approach to your own affairs which translates to good business practice. There is often great tenacity here, and you are likely to accomplish what you set out to do, despite constant flux and changes.

With persistence as well as careful strategic planning, you can easily profit by providing what others need.

In your professional or personal life there may be a tendency to avoid direct confrontation. You may approach problems sideways, in an attempt to negotiate emotional boundaries. You may at times be inclined toward stinginess, owing to an overly cautious attitude to money, which comes down to fear about having the ability to control external circumstances. You should learn to trust your feelings enough to know when it is time to conserve what you have and when it is time to spend.

Heightened Sensitivity.

As Cancer is a Cardinal sign, you need to direct your sensitivities, but this must be done in a way that is not overwhelming. Learning how to offer support when required is important, but you need to understand you are not responsible for others’ emotional wellbeing. The ability to nurture comes easily to you. Opportunities to care for others leads to growth and self-awareness.

Yet knowing when to draw the line is paramount. You must learn what is and IS NOT yours to be responsible for.If not achieved, then your life may feature constant episodes of drama and emotional intensity.

In this case, you can attract weak, needy, helpless or manipulative people – people in extremes of emotional crisis – in order to learn valuable life lessons. You can find yourself in relationships where one partner plays the role of adult and the other becomes the child. You might find yourself wondering why all of your friends seem to have problems? At the end of the day, this may have something to do with your need to feel needed, or inability to say no?

Healthy relationships need to be formed without guilt or co-dependency. Lessons in partnership usually involve learning to control and discipline your responses, so that they are appropriate to the situation at hand. You must also learn to trust what your instincts are telling you.

Family Life.

Family is likely to be very important to you. You will happily take on the role of responsible care-giver in any situation and will thrive on knowing you have a happy and productive family life. Whether you choose to focus your attention on family of origin or family of choice, a stronger sense of self will come through maintaining close family ties. 

When young, you may be deeply invested in the emotional state of your mother. This can be detrimental if bonds of responsibility are not transformed at a later stage. Letting go so as to develop independence and strength is crucial. You may have been dutiful as a child, shy and overly aware of the emotional undercurrents within your home.

It is easy for you to unconsciously take on your parents’ expectations, as you want to be obedient and conform to the family structure. Yet at the end of the day you must tread your own path. As you get older the action-oriented qualities of this sign should push you out into the world, to find your own identity on your own terms.

The Gift of Cancer Rising.

For greatest success, you need to understand how the ebb and flow of your own inner cycles, letting intuition guide you. Your sense of rhythm and timing will lead you to where you need to go. The accuracy of your often precise instincts is a great asset, and your intuitive hunches will almost always be spot on.

Trust your feelings and learn to decipher between what is real information and what is just an emotional response. In time you will learn that intuition is a higher form of knowledge and your feelings are in fact your sharpest tool.

LEO RISING.

Born with Leo on your Ascendant (or Rising) you are likely to find that a sense of authority and the opportunity for creative self-expression is necessary if your are to maintain your selfhood. 

Accordingly, you will have your own unique or special way of doing this.

Your talents need to be developed so that they can grow.

In many ways, when Leo rises your task in life is to shine!

There is a strong need to be “somebody” – to feel important and respected somehow.

You will either grow in greater confidence and warmth of expression as you share your generous spirit with others, or develop a tendency toward affectation and extravagance which belies an underlying insecurity.

Much depends on the choices that you make.

Healthy Attention.

If Leo is your Ascendant you are likely to need attention and approval from others, so you are better off to admit that from the outset. The need to stand out in your own right is paramount. You have extraordinary reserves of creativity and love that need an outlet. Following your heart and exploring your passions will help you bring these gifts to the fore.

Once you feel you are getting the recognition you deserve then you can become a great source of fun, inspiration and leadership. Doing what you love brings your best qualities to the fore.

Larger than Life.

Just like the sun itself, you are likely to be fixed in focus -appearing constant and reliable, with a cheerful disposition that uplifts others. Life is to be enjoyed, and you may feel the need to live in a grand manner, befitting your “special” status. Or you may be happy with simple surroundings, but will make the effort to ensure there is plenty of time for pleasure, romance or fun.

In some ways you are likely to have a larger-than-life attitude. You are all about grand gestures, big dreams and stunning vistas. You are also likely to be a capable and demanding authority figure, well suited to leadership and managerial positions. Others respond well to your kindness, sense of fun, faith and optimism. As a rule, you tend to be proud, are sometimes insecure despite your capabilities, and hate above all else to be criticized.

As Leo is the sign of royalty, there may be a tendency to at times expect “the royal treatment” – indulgences befitting a personage of such elevated “status”. If not received, your temper tends to flare.

Overblown displays of outrage brought on by wounded pride can mask deep insecurities. The fear of ‘not being recognized’ easily becomes sullenness if you don’t feel that you are receiving your due.

A Born Leader.

The need for comfort and luxury is likely to lead you to work very hard for success. Your love of recognition makes achievement even more important for you. This is fine as long as you don’t work too hard, neglecting the family and friends who are after all your main audience and support crew. Give them their due attention and they will be there for you on the occasional day that you are down.

You are naturally here to lead in some way, but need to learn that leadership involves sharing command. Finding out what makes others special and unique helps you incorporate them into your plans. You must learn to temper your urge to fulfill your own potential by learning to appreciate and accept the contribution that every body makes to the whole, of which we are all a part.

Beware you don’t treat others with disdain or disrespect. You are so inclined to do things your own way, you may look down your nose, so to speak, at others who do not do things as you would. People will follow you gladly if you treat them with respect.

Scorn them, and they may leave you all alone, which is precisely the situation you fear. You need an audience or form of feedback to know you are performing at your best.

Turn Talents into Strengths.

When young you may have trouble adjusting your expectations to the actual circumstances of your life, but over time you will learn how to find the magic in the every day and the best in the people around you. Recognize where your talents lie and turn them into strengths. This means spending the time required to be your best and make the most of your unique gifts.

A positive statement for Leo rising is to affirm “I have the right to express my unique, individual creativity and spirit, and can do that without denying others the right to express theirs.”

The Gift Of Leo Rising.

It is important that you feel comfortable enough to show others who you really are, without demanding validation. Then you can shine from the uniqueness of your own creative spirit, bringing joy light and laughter to every situation in which you a part. You bring organizational and leadership qualities to any endeavour, with a natural flair for drama, creativity and fun.

VIRGO RISING.

Born with with Virgo on your Ascendant (or Rising), you are likely to view the world through the lens of mental analysis, with a view toward organization.

You have strong critical faculties and need to find practical outlets for your skills, talents and abilities.

Typically humble and at times self-effacing, you are likely be more concerned with being useful than being recognized.

You need to be productive – to be of service somehow – and your chosen career will typically give you the opportunity to experience best employ your skills.

You are likely to be practical, capable and dexterous.

You may be very good with facts, figures and details.

You may also be quite hard on yourself because of early childhood experiences, and need to learn to recognize and appreciate your talents.

The Urge For Service.

When your Ascendant is Virgo, you are usually willing to assist and be of service to others. Unless other chart factors dominate, you are likely to be hardworking, conscientious and studious. You like to know your place in the wider scheme, and feel most comfortable with a plan in place.

Cleanliness and order are often very important, as is the need to be systematic. You are likely to be good at solving problems, and will do well in any situation that requires you to work through an issue or challenge in a linear, demonstrable way.

A Tendency Toward Criticism.

Despite your abilities, you are likely to be tough on yourself, with a tendency to worry. If you do not perform tasks to an imagined standard of perfection you can be very self-critical. Your tendency to worry may undermine your nervous system, and the uncertainty of too much change can take a heavy toll.

On the way to realising your potential you may need to overcome a crippling lack of self-confidence. Virgo rising is often associated with a tendency to self-censor and self-criticize that can be debilitating. You may inwardly question and criticize every move that you make, leading to extreme levels of anxiety, and even chronic illness, if the impact on your nervous system becomes too much.

A Sensitive Constitution.

You may a have delicate constitution, and need to take extra care of your physical body. Your health, and especially digestion, is easily affected by negative thoughts and emotions. When anxious you will second-guess yourself. You may find yourself easily overwhelmed so that stress gets confused with logical analysis.

This confusion amplifies your tendency to self-doubt, and you should perhaps get feedback from others when you are spiralling down a mental sinkhole. Learning to praise, rather than criticize, your own talents is a great step forward. Developing a sense of purpose through being of assistance can work wonders.

Instead of trying to be perfect, perhaps you should aim instead to simply be better?

You may be very particular about food, which reflects your delicate nervous system. Learn to listen to your body and take care of your health, but watch out for tendencies to worry about your wellbeing as a substitute for something better to do!

Taking care of your self is a smart choice, and you will benefit greatly by incorporating a healthy diet, workable routines and natural therapies that can assist wellness. Regular practices such as yoga and meditation that work to synthesise mind/body focus are especially useful for you.

Discernment and Discrimination.

Whilst you enjoy doing things for others, you may have a need to try and control outcomes. This will be based on an innate fear of chaos or potential lack of order. You should make an effort to relax and welcome the input of other people. Look for people and experiences that can teach you how to flow, trusting in the natural rhythms of life without trying to preempt every outcome.

Virgo is associated with the assimilation of experience. This occurs through trial and analysis, through discernment and discrimination. Use the processes of metabolism and digestion as metaphors for your own approach to life, and in this way can learn to see any imbalances within your own body as perhaps symptomatic of an imbalance in how you are assimilating your experiences. Once you connect your fine sense of discrimination with your practical sensibility you can be of service to yourself and others in an unlimited numbers of ways.

The Gift of Virgo Rising.

At your best, you can be supportive, nurturing and stable helping others achieve practical outcomes. In this way, your sense of discernment, practicality and willingness to serve rises to the fore, adding purpose and fulfilment to your life. You do best with partners and friends who uplift you, helping you see the bigger picture behind immediate appearances.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 37 - Destined for Greatness

w/c - 7,731

               Suguru has been lying in bed for hours now as his mind wanders through his past and imagines different scenarios for the future. He sighs as he tosses and turns for the thousandth time, facing away from his door while his gaze takes to his new quarters that are viewable from this angle. This is by far the cheeriest room he has ever called his own. The walls are a warm yellow, the floors of solid hardened red clay and all of the matching furniture a light wood. His eyes take to the closed curtains with long thick white drapes, ‘This is so fucking annoying…’, he mumbles knowing there’s not even a window behind it, there’s no way for there to be when you’re underground. Sitting up now with aggravation, he reaches over to the bedside table and places the bowl of water he was using the night before, back into his lap. He wants to check in on Elska’s surroundings although he knows other Titers are tasked with the enemy’s usual surveillance. Before activating his technique though, he hesitates due to anxiety, ‘What the fuck am I going to do when we take her? What the fuck will she do?’. He hears footsteps approaching his door and knows Genghis must have already finished with most of the arrangements.

               “Little one! Time to wake up!”. Genghis calls out in an eager voice. He stops and smiles when he sees that Getou is already awake and asks, “Aren’t you excited about today?”. He looks over the worrisome Suguru who’s vexation is transparent. The golden sheets drape along his body and slide from his bare skin whenever he moves under them.

               Getou grumbles and turns his head, “I don’t think what I’m feeling is excitement…”. He keeps looking at the curtains that hide lies while wondering if he’s much different. ‘Will I have to subdue her when she lashes out? Am I going to have to hurt her when she resists?’. He’s had no qualms with doing so in the past but feels an incredible amount of pressure regarding it now. ‘Could we…like each other?’.

               Genghis chuckles and ignores Suguru’s reluctant attitude while looking around the room, “This is definitely much more suitable! Did you really put in a request for a giant tub though?” He’s poking fun at his pupil but he was also puzzled by that. Genghis thinks the brighter room will serve them both well psychologically. ‘Not too shabby for being done at the last minute.’.

               Embarrassed by the question, Getou submerges deeper into his bad mood and bed before retorting, “It’s for me. I’m tall.”. He was certainly not about to admit that it was for Elska, thinking she really must love them judging by how insane Naoya acted about it when the Zenin originally designed the first room where she was held. Suguru is aware that her reaction may be hostile overall and is dreading these coming days because of it so he hopes having one may ease her nerves. He doesn’t know that tub is Naoya’s thing.

               Genghis isn’t really satisfied with that answer but continues on, “I’ve gathered the most adept offensive fighters we have to offer.” Knowing the Titer’s abilities are incredible but lack in the area of traditional combat, selecting the most capable available would be crucial. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy my plan…”. His teeth show in this smile now, he’s more than willing to share his enthusiasm.

               Suguru finally turns to his mentor, interested. “Do tell me what you’ve concocted.”.

               Genghis lights up, “So as we were discussing, we need to restrict their actions. We will make our move in a public setting but you’ll still be able to have your fun...we will have to harm innocents but I assume that’s not what troubles you.” He grins maniacally, “Mr. Satoru Gojo’s presence will be requested before the Elders here in a few and his curiosity will assure he attends.”. Genghis sighs, “I was worried Gojo might want to kill all of them but I brought in two special people to mediate our fictitious ambitions.”. He chuckles, “The silver shaman has no idea what’s in store for him.”.

               Getou smirks at the thought of Gojo having the rug pulled from beneath him, “So we’re planning on having to deal with Toji, Zenin and Choso…aside from her today?” Genghis nods to his question but a heaviness forms in Suguru’s chest when he thinks about having to kill Choso. He’s still not on board with that completely and figures he’ll try his best to protect the hybrid in the midst of confusion. ‘Not him too.”. Getou wishes to find a way to bring the hybrid back to his side.

               Genghis claps his hands, causing his yellow robes to flutter, “You better get up and get ready! I’m about to meet with our team. I believe your first sweetheart will be amongst them.”, he chuckles for the drama but honestly loathes that woman.

               “Lidia?”, Getou stiffens immediately as that did not help his motivation. “She’s fucking crazy Master Genghis, I don’t want to be anywhere near her!”. Suguru takes his head to his hands as a few memories of her dependency and inhumane behavior flood him. ‘Psychotic bitch.’. Lidia always chased after Suguru when they were younger and at some point this wore on him as before he knew it, she was claiming them to be betrothed. She was obsessed with his destiny, his calling for the clan and would worship him in the most toxic ways due to it. Her need to be the only one in Getou’s life caused her to mutilate young women amongst Suguru’s outer circle out of spite and jealousy. Their time together did not last long as it quickly became a violent pairing, ending with him crushing her ribs under his usual technique. Suguru sighs, “She’s is not going to help me obtain another woman…”. He shudders recalling how after healing, she was back to throwing herself at him as if nothing happened. ‘Fucking…crazy…’.

               Genghis hides his sneer, knowing full and well the history of the two. “On the contrary, she requested this assignment.”. He notices Suguru’s growing frustration and wishes he could explain exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing but instead says, “I’ve seen many outcomes for this and although they may have varied, I can assure you Lidia will serve a great purpose here.”. Little does Getou know, Lidia will be the proof offered to show Elska she will be cared for while in the Titer compound.

               Suguru is skeptical to believe this and shows it through his expression as he rises from the bed and says, “Women are the bane of my existence…”. He stretches in his black briefs and cracks his neck while thinking something foreboding was eating at him. ‘I’m probably going to have to expose my other techniques now.’.

               “You’re about to receive the most powerful wife in the world…and yet, you complain.”, Genghis teases as he’d probably be nervous too if the roles were reversed. He watches Suguru don a black robe, clearly showing signs of stress so he walks up to him and puts his jokes aside, “This is going to work out, little one, one way or another.”, and pulls Getou’s head down to plant a fatherly kiss to the top of it. After sharing the rare moment, he bows and leaves Suguru to his morning routine.

               Getou watches him quietly walk out of the room with conflicting emotions. Genghis is the only man he’s ever looked up to, the only other human that ever offered genuine affection. Ever since Suguru was reunited with his mentor though, something has felt off or perhaps he’s just seems more purposeful. He’s not sure if this odd feeling is because of his own unstable emotions that threatened to derail his purpose of revenge or if there’s another reason but he can’t ignore it either way. He trusts that his mentor is still worthy of his respect and recognition though and finds his returning welcomed regardless. ‘All of those years…’, he wonders where Genghis spent his time and exactly why. ‘Did they really keep him away to simply foster my hatred for Gojo?’. He knows that doesn’t really make sense.

               Genghis is turning a hall leading to stairs to take him upward. He sees two of the recruited Titers waiting for him outside of the designated meeting area at the top, smiles and nears them. The first one he shakes hands with is Sain Khun. The 32-year-old Titer was a remarkable martial artists and hunter. His rare eyes are more grey than blue and stand in contrast to his long black hair that he wears down. Sain is one of the handful of Titers that learned to channel their metaphysical natured abilities into to combative techniques but usually stays out of the political fray of the clan. ‘A fine young man.”. Before he’s able to address the handsome Titer, the second of the pairing cuts in.

               “Master Genghis, I have more questions about this woman.”. Lidia shamelessly exudes her opinion of the situation and demands attention. She receives a sharp look from the clan’s head that only fuels her suspicions. “Are we certain she’s the best pairing for Master Getou?”.

               “Miss Lidia, you look lovely today…”, Genghis takes her hand and kisses it, ignoring her inquires. He continues to smile until she speaks up again. ‘She never ceases.’.

               “Can we trust that her intentions for Master Getou are ones we can stand by?”. Lidia shakes her long curly red hair that dances down her arms. Her green eyes narrowed still, she waits for an answer. “She’s not even human. What if she uses her powers to manipulate his biology as well?”. Her foot taps impatiently against the now softer ground, ‘I’ll fucking kill that bitch if she even looks at him wrong!’.

               Genghis has already grown tired of catering to Lidia’s neediness in the short time they’ve come to know each other but understands she’s vital. “And what of your own intentions?”, he confidently questions her as he doesn’t need an answer. He already knows and is glad to see her heart hasn’t wavered from its possessive ways.

               Sain feels forced as this greet was supposed to be simple. He cares not of Lidia’s unhealthy interest for Suguru and even with his instincts crying against Genghis, feels badly for the man. He decides to enter the conversation in hopes to shut it down. “Lusting Lidia, it’s time to get on with the meeting.”, and grabs her arm, leading her through the door where the rest of the selected wait.

               Genghis takes a moment to center himself, ‘I understand your resentment little one…’. This quick exchange between them wasn’t the worst he’s suffered from the woman but he still cannot stand to be around her. He chuckles and whispers to himself, “But if she were any less obsessed, this wouldn’t work.”, and then enters the room with the rest as they lay out their plans.

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               Elska is looking around at the busy street as they occasionally bump into passing people. “My prince, are you sure it’s around here?” She’s never been to this part of the city before and is feeling anxious by the crowd. The sun is out but a chilling breeze catches them every so often. Her mind is heavy and plagued with questions but doesn’t want to dampen Naoya’s mission for the day.

               Naoya stops near the edge of the wide sidewalk and pulls out his phone, “I’m positive!”, while checking the map to make sure he could stand by those words. ‘Where is it?’. His brow creases as he studies the screen.

               Toji huffs, “We’ve been walking forever.” He’s abnormally agitated but also hates crowds and is pinning the fault on being dragged out into one. He looks at Elska who’s eyes happen to meet his and feels his tension release ever so slightly as the wind blows her black V-cut dress along her knees. All of them are dressed up more than usual since Naoya begged for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He sees Elska eyeing him in a way that foretells she finds his black pants and squeezing button up suiting and it makes him feel like he could deal with the clothed restriction for a while longer.

               “It says we’re close!”, Naoya points to the map on his phone pridefully. It’s been a few years since he was on this side of the city and a lot has changed. He’s becoming frustrated with not knowing how much time they’ll have before Gojo returns, wanting to enjoy some normalcy. ‘I just want to treat her to nice meal!’ He turns to Elska and takes her hand, “Baby, I promise it will be worth it. I’m talking…food fit for a princess.”, when she giggles, he does too, being happy to see that she isn’t wanting to turn around. He looks to Toji now, “Want me to find you a walker?”, and snickers as the giant narrows his eyes before continuing ahead.

               Elska feels Naoya’s finger lace into hers as they resume walking, with Toji on her left. She’s trying to be cheerful today, wanting to appreciate the time she’s spending with them but her mind keeps leading her into thought. The night before, Toji stopped her from feeding and although she was aware of why and understood the risks Satoru spoke about, she tried to proceed anyway. There were a weird few minutes where she could only focus on drinking from her beloved and flailed wildly as he restrained her. ‘Why did it feel like I wanted the Titer energy too?’. She thinks to hold Toji’s hand as well in this moment but stops herself as she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the three of them. ‘He looked so concerned all while I couldn’t even stop…”. The ancestral voice advised her to feed. Her heart aches as she knows this was out of character and extremely selfish when they didn’t know how it could affect her. The one thing keeping her afloat in this matter is how Toji held her after she snapped out it, how he seemed to understand without saying that she didn’t mean to.

               Toji lets Naoya and Elska get a step ahead of him so he can keep his eyes on her. After their last outing, he’s remaining highly aware of their surroundings and is watching for anything suspicious. He sees Naoya in his dark grey slacks and black dress shirt, leaning down to talk to her as they maneuver through the groups of families and friends, keeping her close. ‘Is she really, ok?’. Toji recalls how she struggled against him the night before. Gojo tried to rush to the bed after seeing her reaction but Toji was also wanting to shield her from him. Her eyes changed, showing the dashes of his green while she clawed at his arms and flashed her fangs with a glare. Toji knew that wasn’t his Elska but didn’t want to make her apprehensive, so he hid her the best he could from Satoru until they reverted. He heard something from within while this was all occurring, a voice that he swears communicated for him to feed his master. ‘Is that even possible? What the fuck was that?’. He rubs his bicep after feeling a sharp pain run through his arm.

               Naoya leads them to a building that has loud club music playing inside, the base being noticeable from where they stand. He looks up and scrunches his face, “What the fuck is this?”. He checks his watch that bares 1:39 and is further confused by the daytime club scene. ‘I’ve failed.’. Toji can be heard groaning so he orients himself to face them both, “It was right here!!”. He takes in Elska’s kind smile as she’s clearly not going to make him feel bad for being wrong. Not knowing what to do to save their lunch adventure he stands there awkwardly to think but hears Elska say, “Well let’s enjoy a drink while we look up somewhere else nearby!”. He smiles at her ability to always find a silver lining and follows behind her up the ramp that leads inside.

               As they walk through the room on the first floor, Toji feels this intense wave wash over him. Music is drowning out most other sounds but the way the bass pulses through him allows him to feel alive. The stench of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol sting his senses while they find a seat at the bar. Once sitting, he can smell Elska’s perfume when she whips her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her neck to which causes him to stir in the stool. Naoya hands out drink menus from them all but Toji doesn’t even look at it, knowing his order already and wanting it immediately. He feels ready to pounce but is cautiously calming himself as he knows this is not the place, ‘I am NOT Gojo…’. When she crosses her legs he feels the sting in his arm again, bringing his mood back to a wavering position.

               “I’m thinking a red…’, Elska states loud enough to be heard while looking over the wine menu. Naoya smiles to her words as he announces his choice of Mojito. “That’s why you’re so sweet!”, she jokes vaguely in regards to his actual taste. She places a hand on Toji’s right knee before turning to him and feels him jump. Her voice now concerned, “Did I scare you!?”. She giggles until she sees the intensity in his eyes, wondering why he’s exuding so much right then. Her breath was held in her throat as she waited for his eyes to glow, knowing that would not be good for where they are. They never do though and she eventually resumes respiration as he places his own large hand over hers. ‘What was that?’. She now swivels her head around the large room, taking in all of the day drinkers on the dance floor and seated randomly about.

               The bartender takes their orders with a smile and begins to serve them up right there. He recommended a red for Elska that he swears was his personal favorite and proudly waited for the approving sip. When she stated its palatability, he then left to attend other customers while Toji stared him down menacingly. ‘That’s a brave man to be flirting right in front of us.’.

               Naoya sips his drink while eyeing Toji chug his whiskey on the rocks. “Slow down old man, we still have to go somewhere to eat!”, he laughs at the eyeroll he receives and notices Elska drinking pretty quickly as well. “Baby, what’s on your mind?”, he knows something is bothering her and wonders if they’re both just nervous after the last Titer attack. ‘Maybe I can convince her to dance it away!’, he thinks as he imagines himself twirling her under the disco ball. He just wants her to have a good day.

               After finshing her glass already, she sets it down and tells Naoya, “I’m fine, I promise! I just really have to pee!”. He chuckles and adjusts himself so she has more room to slide off the stool. She announces that she’ll be right back before searching the walls for signs indicating the direction she should take. A drunken man bumps into her shortly after leaving the bar and can feel Toji increase his presence so she turns around to show that she’s fine. The whole room was lively except for Toji’s motionless staring. ‘I better be fast before he loses his shit.’.

               “She shouldn’t be alone.” Toji followed her with his eyes as she turned a corner down a hall. He’s worried about her and has this familiar unyielding need to be in her vicinity. It’s almost as if he knows something is about to happen. “I’m going to wait for her, watch the drinks.”. He hears Naoya protest with grief but faces him and says, “Boy, why don’t you find us a place to eat since we’re out here because of you.”, and places a hand on Naoya’s shoulder as he goes to walk past to counter the aggression in his voice. “Order another round too will ya?”.

               Elska stands up in the stall and flushes but doesn’t leave. She’s feeling like Toji’s eyes were trying to tell her something minutes ago but she can’t figure it out. All she knows is that it was sexy. She opens the latched door to wash and dry her hands but takes in her reflection in the mirror and thinks, ‘Life is so much crazier now…’, but smiles to herself knowing she had fantastic support from everyone. The door pushes open abruptly behind her and she gasps in startlement before realizing that it was Toji himself. “TOJI! What if there are others in here?!”. She can tell by his focus though that it didn’t matter anyway.

               “Doll…” he mutters as he locks the door behind him. He sees that she was caught off guard when she asks what he was doing in there but he just walks closer until he’s inches away. “I need…”, he lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist and supports her weight with his right arm. “I need you.”, he whispers while dragging the tip of his nose along her collar bone, watching her skin change pigment from his glowing eyes. Her hands are roaming through his hair and he moans to the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “Right now.”. He nearly growls as he sinks her into his groin from above.

               “Toji…”, she was right about his prior intensity but can’t find it in her heart to stop him as he begins kissing the crook of her neck. The music can be heard through the walls along with idle chatter and it all serves as a reminder for where they’re at. She thinks of her pheromones and instantly pulls herself out of their beautiful trance. She whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here, my beloved.”, and frowns as he lifts his head to meet eyes. “I can’t release them here, it’ll be a disaster…”.

               He agrees that they shouldn’t have sex and nods with a grunt but that’s not truly what brought him in lady’s room to begin with. Feeling his fangs form he shows them to her and happily takes in her reaction as she smiles and moves her hair while saying, “Oh! ok…but we have to be quick!”. He squeezes her cheek with his right hand that supporting her rear and drags his teeth across the skin of her neck. “I just need to taste you.”, he wantonly groans before biting down. She gasps to his intrusion and grips his hair as he begins to suckle. His own whimpers could be heard between his gulps, loving every drop he’s being given as he deciphers her soul and feelings. Her flavor, now that he’s not as overloaded by the information, is reminiscent of the aroma born from a field of flowers. Each time he swallows more of her blood, his overall restlessness fades while her squirming increases.

               Elska cradles his head into her while melting in the master’s ecstasy flowing through her. Her eyes are closed as she bites her lip and attempts to muffle her sounds. “My beloved…”, she whimpers to him while her fingers stroke through his hair. His hypertonicity dwindles as she feels his left hand travel up her back, resting a grip on the nape of her neck. “I love you, my beloved Toji…”, and gasps in desperation as she can sense his own, wanting to assure him of his importance. Those same fingers now dance along her clavicle as he brings them over the wounds to close them while panting into her neck. He leaves his face buried there, adorning the area with his lips slowly as he she can tell he’s gathering himself. “Do you feel better?” She caresses his temple and cheek hoping that he did, feeling terrible that she didn’t recognize or even sense his disposition sooner. When he lifts his head to look at her again, she feels the need to lock her lips to his as they both exhale in a gratified union. She moves the hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead before he gently puts her back down, him looking refreshed with a bashful grin.

               He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it. In the mirror he can see Elska’s loving eyes watching him and the scar on the corner of his lips bends pleasantly. While wiping away any evidence, he shyly adds, “I love you too, doll.”, the words still seeming unreal. After discarding the bloodied paper towel, he takes up her hands in his own, “I’m sorry for following you in here, I just…I really needed to do that.”. He’s still uneasy by how compelling the desire was. “I felt like I wouldn’t get another chance.”. He sees the concern on her face and doesn’t want to worry her, “It was just time for me to feed doll, everything is ok.”. Her hand sails upwards to hold his cheek and leans into it. ‘I have to keep her safe.’.

               Naoya is watching the condensation accumulate on his glass and is now feeling nervous as he checks his watch again. ‘Where are they?!’, he swings around in the stool to check the room and feels an incredible wave of relief as he finds Toji and Elska making their way back to the bar. After they sit he asks, “Did you guys go to the bathroom at the dorms or what?”, but picks up on the weird laughs he receives from them. ‘He wouldn’t have tried something sly, would he?’, and squints his eyes at Toji. ‘He looks way better though.’, and decides to let it go as he’s sure even a quickie couldn’t be that quick. “Baby…”, Naoya slides his phone over in front of them as he finishes his second Mojito, “I’ve only been here once but they have beautiful seating along the water!”. He cackles, “…and it’s only about half a mile away by foot…”.

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               Gojo is quickly walking through the whited-out halls with Choso following. He speaks without looking, “Choso, when we get in there…I have to warn you, you’re not expected.”. Gojo heard Choso stop in place so he turns around to see him. “You’re with me though so it’s fine! If they say anything to you, just ignore them. I will do the talking.”, and waves for the being to hurry.

               “I…I don’t understand why I’m here with you and not everyone else…”. Choso is familiar with the Elders but can’t ignore the fact that he used to work for them where as he’s now on the opposing side. ‘Is this a good idea?’. He was expecting Gojo to sulk and whine to being called in today and is puzzled by how thrilled he seems.

               Gojo jumps up to click his heels to the side before saying, “I don’t trust these cunts and I’m almost positive this is a trap of some sort…”. He notices Choso’s eyes widen with confusion so he continues, “If they’re trying to distract me from Elska, they fail if you’re there using your technique to watch her for me!”, his smug grin appears, “This way I’ll know the moment something happens.”. He’s sure the Elders have called him away in order to create an opportunity but has a mind to flip their plans upside down with this small act of rebellion. “I can never remember where to go! This shit all looks the same…it’s creepy.”.

               Choso sighs but tries to keep up with Gojo’s quickened pace. The bright lighting overhead is blinding and causing him discomfort as he prefers darker places. He doesn’t know what to make of Gojo’s explanation but figures he’s along for the ride at this point anyways. “Do you think they’d even admit to what they’re doing?”. Choso understands the amount of secrecy the surrounds the Elder’s goals and is sure that he’s not even fully aware of their intentions.

               “Yes. I will make sure they do.”, Satoru’s words are eerie but his expression is still delighted. “These fuckers have messed with us for long enough. They’re cowards, Choso and the things they want to do to my love are unacceptable.”.  Gojo is certain that none of the others would have condoned what he’s thinking he’ll have to do which is why he said nothing before leaving. “They need to leave her alone and how can I call myself the strongest if I can’t protect her from these witless skin bags?”. Satoru at least wanted to inform Nanami of his meeting but hasn’t been able to reach the fellow shaman yet. ‘Did they get to him too?’. Gojo is certain that something happened with Shoko but was waiting to see how things played out. ‘As long as she’s fine, I know she can handle it.’, but worries about Nanami’s reaction if he’s already discovered this too.

               ‘What is he going to do?’, Choso feels like something big is about to happen, something that cannot be taken back. The unnerving pressure in his gut hints that whatever it is, it’s not good. “Itadori and the others are still on standby but isn’t it odd that they haven’t been given any missions?”. They pass more rooms before Satoru finally stops. Choso watches the silver shaman’s expression change to lethally cold one before straightening himself with resolve, and knows he should do the same. ‘I guess I have to just trust him…’, the thought not sitting comfortably at all.

               Gojo quietly speaks, “Remember, don’t mind them, they’re not worth the stress. You do not serve them any longer.”, and places a reassuring hand on the hybrids shoulder. He’s impressed when he looks over the being, seeing that his previous nervousness has been cast away and replaced by a collected ensemble. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about him.’, and feels poised in the dark nature that lurks beneath Choso’s kindness. Turning back to the door, Gojo kicks it open fiercely before entering. “WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?!”.

               Three people sit along one side of a long white table, seeming prepared aside from the sudden commotion. The first is a representative of the Kamo clan, a new middle-aged face Satoru has never seen draped in dark red robes. The second is a Zenin, the bought errand man known better as “Peaches” for a less known reason. Gojo knew him rather well from his childhood and all of the clan events he was forced to attend. The third, however, catches Satoru by complete surprise and angers him. The woman sitting as a representative for his own clan is none other than his mother.

               Gojo seethes with white knuckled fists, “What the fuck are you doing here?”, as old anguish resurfaces between the two. Satoru hasn’t been home in years and purposefully. He was sure if he stayed any longer, he’d annihilate his own family.

               The Kamo rep scoffs, “Yes… well hello to you too Satoru Gojo. We could ask you the same.” He points to Choso, “Isn’t that Kamo property?”. The hybrid and Gojo fail to give him the time of day, causing tension.

               Gojo never takes his eyes off of his mother while waiting in silence as Choso dutifully ignores them. His eyes darken, “I asked you a fucking question you miserable old whore.”. He feels the urge to gather a technique but calms himself with his better judgement.

               His mother speaks, “That is no way to talk to the woman who raised you!”, she laughs in a haughty way but brings her dramatics to a close, “Why else would I be here? You can’t be left to just do whatever you please…”. She tilts her nose up and displays her notion that she is untouchable.

               Peaches shifts in his chair, “You have something that needs to be returned to the Zenin’s. Master Naoya was promised her hand.”. He’s honestly terrified of Gojo but would never allow this to show. Satoru darts stormy eyes in his direction and he feels a chill race down his spine.

               “Let’s just be frank about it. You want Elska.”. Gojo voice is calm, almost lighthearted. He brings his gaze back to his mother, feeling a little better about the situation knowing he’s going to handle more business than he expected today. “Choso, please start now.”. Gojo doesn’t have to look since he can feel Choso’s energy gathering to form the window. He watches the representatives lean to figure out what the hybrid is up to and laughs out loud. “My friend here”, He scowls at the Kamo man, “is going to observe Elska while we meet.”. He winks to Peaches, “She’s with Naoya right now for your information…Toji too.”.

               Gojo’s mother bursts into hyaena laughter, threatening to rupture the unsuspecting eardrums of the others. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Such a pitiful child.”. Her long white hair waves in the air as she jerks her head to see Peaches’s perplexed expression. “Don’t believe him just because he speaks it…trust me…”, and folds her arms while thinking of how many more beatings her son should have to experience when younger.

               Peaches clears his throat and tries to save face, “Surely this is some kind of joke. Master Naoya loathes your very existence Satoru.”. He’s now chuckling to himself having felt it was a test of some sort, “Are we not on better terms than that of your games?”. He’s now sure it was a lie.

               Gojo regrets that Peaches is here today but is unable to overlook the fact that the old goat is in cahoots with this situation. ‘It can’t be helped!’. He turns to Choso now for the first time since they walked into the room and is reassured that nothing bad is happening. Now facing Peaches again, “You know… Zenin and I got off on the wrong foot.” He grins, “But now we have threesomes!”, loving the shock that plasters everyone’s face. The Kamo man choked on his own saliva to the mention. Gojo looks at his mother, “Don’t be upset just because no one wants to fuck you. It can’t be helped when your cunt leaks venom.”.

               Choso sits motionlessly as he listens to the meeting unfold, completely flabbergasted by Satoru’s way of speaking. ‘What did his mother do to him to make him hate her so much?’, he hesitates to explore the options in his mind as he can only imagine. Aside from that though, Choso has never witnessed such a display of blatant disrespect to the higher ups and is completely unnerved by the silver shamans ever changing composure. ‘What is he planning to do?’, the ominous feelings he’s experiencing from this are only growing at this point.

               Peaches is red with embarrassment, “HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”, and allows his anger on the matter to spill over. The representative huffs relentlessly to the accusations and feels disgraced for his ears being exposed to such vile talk. When expecting to see an angry Gojo, he’s further confused by the smile that meets him instead.

               Gojo runs his finger along the table as he casually saunters in front of each of them. “If you three decide to get rowdy…I’ll have to kill you.”. He basks in the glares and especially enjoys his mother’s fear as she knew he was not playing around. Once they become settled he says to her, “You being here makes you my enemy, mommy. How long have you been involved?”. She starts to swat his question away with a scoff but everyone leaps out of their skin when Satoru yells, “HOW FUCKING LONG?!”. He increases his presence tenfold and watches the representatives writhe in distress before him.

               She says nothing.

               The Kamo rep is sweating bullets as he’s only heard the tales of horrors committed at the hand of Gojo. ‘Genghis said nothing about this hostility.”, he thinks to himself as he comprehends that he’s bitten off more than he could chew. He’s afraid to peel his eyes away from the powerful shaman making inquiring demands but also wants to flee the room. ‘This guy is even crazier in person!’.

               Gojo takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, “Well…this is going nowhere…”, and summons energy into his hand as he aims it at the Kamo representative. The nameless man cries out in fear and studders in his breathing. Gojo notices Choso jump to his feet but the being doesn’t say anything. Only when the defeated female voice utters, “3 years.”, does he quell his attack. He thinks about that answer for a moment before acknowledging her again. ‘That’s strange.’. Looming across from her he now asks, “I’d already had my love for some time before that, why did you join them to conspire against me at that point? Don’t make me blow this poor guy’s skull open…”, he warns of his lack of patience.

               His mother sulks in her seat having her hands tied about the questioning, “I thought she was a passing infatuation at first, like all of the others but you completely neglected your responsibilities of being an heir because of that wretch.” She’s met with unforgiving eyes and wishes she was able to smack the audacity out of him but has learned the hard way about his response to abuse. “She is not yours Satoru and you jeopardize the entire balance of the clans with your actions of keeping her.”.  Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peaches nod in support and feels reaffirmed by it.

               Gojo slips a wild laugh and slaps the table, “She is mine though. I voyaged worlds away to find her. I went to incredible lengths to bring her back…”, he sighs while resting his hands on his hips. “You do know, mom, these Titers that have you in their pocket…they were going to use her to assassinate me.”. The atmosphere of the room deteriorates at the mention of the Titer clan. Its obvious that they were left unaware to Gojo having knowledge of the group’s silent partner.

               His mother jumps from her seat and screams, “AND THEY SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED!”. All of the hatred she’s ever felt for her son sears the air around them, her chest feeling lighter for the honesty but heavier for the fear. “You were destined for greatness but even with your gifts, something is wrong with you! How you ever came out of me? I will never know…”. She feels she must stand her ground or else the structure they’ve served their entire lives will crumble. “You’re evil. You always have been.”.

               Choso is still watching Naoya, Toji and Elska but can’t help but be distracted by the darkness exuding Gojo. ‘What is going on here?’, he doesn’t understand how this is official business and even finds himself feeling defensive over Satoru. ‘That woman is appalling.’, he thinks as he considers Gojo’s upbringing and decides there’s more to the man than he ever considered. He looks back to the window after surmising that none of the representatives would attack. Choso becomes rattled when the window shows Toji drinking from Elska in a cramped bathroom, ‘I can’t believe the lighting permits this, it must be dim.’, He temporarily becomes fixated with Toji’s fangs anchored into her as she quietly moans. He’s not seen anyone but her feed before. ‘So, his bite feels good to her as well?’. He brushes his lap as if to tell it, “Knock it off”, but his attention is soon stolen by Peaches’s mention of Elska.

               “If you don’t return Elska Oda then this will be seen as an act of aggression Satoru, please…don’t do thi-…” Peaches can no longer speak as Gojo grips hit throat and is thrown into a fit of fright.

               “I kind of liked you…I was use to you at least…but if you ask me that one more time, I will break your fucking neck.” Gojo feels his face twitch as he squeezes the old man’s beard into his throat, “You guys are fucking with me today and I don’t appreciate it.”. Never letting go, he turns to his mother but also glances at the petrified Kamo rep, “I do not give a single flying fuck about the clans, I couldn’t care less of your archaic ways and I am never going to surrender my Elska.”. As Peaches reaches a critical point of needing air, Gojo clamps his fingers deeper, “I left my love’s side today to be here because of your guys’ little fucking Titer friends. That is what we will discuss.”.

               Gojo’s mother rushes to pull her son’s hand away but right as she’s reaching out, Satoru releases Peaches. She watches the old man heave and choke uncontrollably and shoots hateful eyes. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you fear nothing?”, she thinks to threaten with her husband but knows that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree so it’s likely useless.

               Satoru smirks while studying Peaches inability to regain his breath, “I crushed his trachea a bit, he’s going to need medical attention soon.”. He watches the Kamo man stand up in disbelief and warns, “My mother is right about one thing, I do not fear you or your influence.”, and smiles approvingly as the man takes his seat again hesitantly.

               “You psychotic little freak!”, his mother cries out in disgust, “We need to get him to a doctor!”. She feels herself fill with anxiety as she was not expecting him to go this far. “Let us take him!”.

               Satoru hisses quietly, “If you guys weren’t so dead set in dicking me around then this wouldn’t have happened. No one leaves until I get some answers.”. He strolls around the table, loving how terrified the Kamo representative became when he was close. He yanks up the suffocating Peaches and throws him back into his chair, “Have some fucking dignity…I thought better of you.”. When Peaches makes eye contact, he can see the dread wash over the man, knowing their dynamic has changed forever.

               The Kamo man speaks up sheepishly, “Wh…What is it that you want to know?”. He’s all for handing over the required information as he clearly cares about his life more than the others. Satoru’s expression softens as the other two representatives hang their mouths open, not expecting him to fold so easily. Gojo states, “Everything.”, which causes the rep to tense up as he doesn’t know where to begin. He hastily blurts out, “Suguru Getou inherited ancient techniques as well. The Titers are planning on taking the girl for themselves to ensure their supremacy.” He inhales sharply, “The head of their clan met his end by the hands of your company, they want to repay by being rid of you as you are their final target. You’re still too strong because of your infinity, so the girl’s fate was determined the moment you were born.”.

               “You… weak imbecile…”, Gojo’s mother retaliates to the sensitive information by pushing Peaches backwards causing him to fall to the ground and thrash violently. Without so much as a second thought, she gathers energy into her hand and expels it at the Kamo man’s mouth. The representative dons his own matching blood as his brain matter exits the back of his head, decorating the white surroundings behind him. Only a cavernous jagged hole remains where the words escaped him only seconds prior. His body slumps over the table as he leaks his remaining essence into a pool that shortly forms a dripping pattern to the white tiled floor.  

               Choso defensively stands as the black tattoo on his faces begins to wave. “Satoru…”, is all he says while watching Gojo’s mother now strain to lift the blue tinted and gasping Peaches back upright his seat. ‘His mother is just as rash…’. Choso waits for a few moments longer but is eager to gauge Gojo when their eyes finally meet. ‘Why does he look so satisfied?’, he questions himself as he’s met with that smug smile. The Zenin man’s eyes look like they may pop out of his head but Choso can still make out the man’s reaction to his own presence. He hears Gojo say, “Everything is alright Choso, don’t worry. Just watch them.”, but the being is unable to simply sit with ease at this time. ‘How is this alright?’.

               “And you wonder where I get it from?”, Gojo is irritated that the only man that was willing to talk is now dead but he’s also able to take the information to heart because of how his mother reacted. ‘So all of this really is because of me…’, he thinks of Elska with a heavy heart knowing all that she’s been through, even before he got his hands on her was his fault. ‘My love…I will make this right.’.

               Gojo’s mother now sits back down, wondering if she went too far and gave away their hand. Peaches struggles to speak next to her but she can make out that he’s trying to question the fidelity of the Kamo’s last words. She sighs, “Look Peaches, I like you but I’m siding with Genghis.”. Peaches gurgles himself into a purple hue as he still cannot breathe or talk properly. She understands that Peaches was completely ignorant to the Titer’s planned betrayal to the Zenins and calm says, “They’re not wanting to eliminate other clans, they’re just going to help guide us to this proposed peace, don’t worry so much.”.

               Peaches can only think of Master Naoya who he feels is in grave danger after hearing this information. ‘I…he has to know…Master Na…he needs to be made aware!’. He thinks to grab his phone but he wouldn’t be able to relay the information, nor is he fast enough to text it. Peaches chokes in his stress and can tell his body is slowly shutting down after being deprived oxygen and feels completely hopeless about his predicament. When his heavy eyes meet Gojo’s he freezes in apprehension while listening intently.

               Satoru sighs dramatically with growing anticipation, “Now…where were we?”.

Next Chapter (38) >>

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[ct7567329]

Wounded: Jesse x Reader

It was just like every other mission. Prior to departure, the boys of the 501st awaited in their barracks for their next orders as the Jedi Generals were debriefed. This was typically a rowdy experience. Arm wresting, sneaking some liquor, listening to music, anything to get their minds off the reality of war that was just moments away. But unlike most times, Jesse found himself sitting on his bunk, leaning against the cold wall, lost in his thoughts.

"You've gotta let it go," Fives groaned, playfully pushing Jesse's shoulder with one hand, a bottle on whiskey in the other.

Jesse rolled his eyes and looked away from his tipsy brother, pretending he wasn't even there.

Fives handed the bottle to Hardcase, "Jesse look, (Y/N) is an amazing girl. But, she's a Jedi. She honors her code. There's so many wonderful girls out there. So many that aren't her. I hate telling you this, I really do, but sometimes, it hurts more to hold on."

Jesse gulped and bowed his head, "It's not that easy."

"You two have a special relationship. She says things to you that she's never said to any of us. You clearly mean a lot to her. I hope that's enough to make you happy," Fives sighed, "Hang in there."

Before Jesse could speak, Rex commanded all the men to the hangar.  It was go time. They all filed into the main hangar awaiting the orders of you and Anakin. You both stood confidently in front of a hologram of the palace in Theed on Naboo. As you began the briefing of the mission, Jesse couldn't help but stare at you through his helmet. You sensed this but continued with the task at hand, pointing to the crucial palace entry ways.

Upon conclusion of the briefing, Fives nudged Jesse and whispered, "Did you even pick up on any of that or were you too busy gawking?". Jesse ignored the statement and made his way to the gunship with the rest of his group, which just so happened to include you.

You spent the majority of the ride sitting down, leaning against the corner, scrolling through miscellaneous battle information on a holopad. The rest of the men were sitting down as well, conversing with each other.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" you asked Jesse, who was sitting next to you.

"Never better," he muttered, biting his lower lip under his helmet.

You weren't buying it, "Well, if you need anything don't hesitate." You sprung up and got ready for landing, leaving Jesse alone with his thoughts.

"It looks like the seppies already started attacking," you announced, "stand by for arrival."

You definitely weren't wrong about that. The gunship doors opened to absolute hell. Shots going in all directions, countless droids, and a droid barrier in front of the palace entrance. Across the landing bay, it was obvious Anakin was distraught about the idea of his wife being stuck inside.

It didn't take long for the 501st to break through the blockade at the entrance, but it was only worse inside. You ordered a split off, with you, Jesse and a few others taking the west wing. You looked over your shoulder and only saw five men. This would never be enough. Your group pushed forward, leaving only seven destroyers to decimate before conquering the wing. One of your men knew what he had to do.

"For the 501st!" he screamed, throwing charges at the destroyers. Knowing how heavy the explosion would be, you fell to the ground and covered your ears. Unfortunately, you were the only one to think to do that. Once the charges exploded, you got up and looked around. All the men were knocked on the ground. Quickly, you approached each solider, ripping off their helmet and taking their pulse.

There were no survivors, until you got to Jesse. You held your breath as you removed his helmet and placed two fingers on his neck. A pulse was there, faint, but there. You picked him up and put him over your shoulder, thanking your Jedi training for providing you with extra upper body strength. Only a few floors up there was a suite which Senator Amidala always let you stay in when on Naboo. You found the nearest elevator and made your way up there, hoping to not run into any droids. To your luck, the elevator doors opened and your hope came true. You hastily made your way to the suite and let yourself in, laying Jesse's limp body on the bed.

Figuring he just had the wind knocked out of him, you began to remove his upper armor to relieve weight off his chest. Starting with his pauldron, and finishing with the gloves. Sighing, you looked at the beaten up ARC. His underlies were dark, heavy, evident of stress. You caressed his cheek, acknowledging how soft it was. Freshly shaved. He would eventually be okay.

"Vaabir nayc chaabar a kebi. Anay kebi Kelir cuyir jate," you softly hummed over and over again, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and got off the bed,  going to the refresher for a much needed shower.

Upon finishing your shower, you dressed in only undergarments and a short silk robe. It was the only things you could find that were suitable for you. You exited the refresher and went to towards the vanity, beginning to comb through your wet hair.

"General?"

You quickly turned around to see a confused Jesse staring at you.

"What happened?" he asked, shaking slightly. You threw your hair up into a low bun and sat on the edge of the bed.

"There was a pretty bad explosion. Lost everyone, except you. I figured I would bring you here. The Senator usually lends me this room while I'm on Naboo. Didn't want to see anything worse happen to you.

Jesse couldn't help but stare at your glowing skin, watching a single drop of water trail down you arm, "Thank you," he whispered, still in his trance.

"Would you like to freshen up?" you asked, "A warm shower might help you feel better."

He nodded and attempted to get out of the bed, grunting in pain. You rushed to his side and put your arm around his back, "Jesse?"

"I'm sorry General. Just some pain in my back. I've got this," he confirmed, trying to get up again.

"I'll leave some fresh clothes out for you, just holler if you need anything!" you smiled as he hobbled to the refresher.

The second the door locked, you sprung off the edge of the bed and rushed to the mirror. "oh maker," you said under your breath, looking at how disastrous you looked. With one swift motion you took the bun out and combed your hair straight, parting it perfectly in the middle. You dug through the drawers, trying to find anything to make you feel more confident. First,  you found some mens clothing. You put the sweatpants and t shirt next to the refresher door then continued to search for something for yourself. All you could find was a perfume bottle, and dark blue lace under garments. Was this too revealing, absolutely, but it was better than what you had on. You changed and sprayed yourself a few times before sitting back down on the bed, turning something random on on the holovision. Patiently, you sat there and watched until Jesse was finished.

Not too long after you finished up, the water turned off and Jesse opened the door to grab the clothes. When he walked out of the refresher your eyes widened.

"Is something wrong General?" he asked nervously.

You stuttered, "No, but, well, we aren't on the battle field, you can call me (Y/N), but I've just never seen you in civilian clothes. It's so, so different."

Jesse stood there for a moment, silent. "Is that bad or-"

"Oh no. It's actually kind of nice," you interrupted him, "really nice."

Jesse was motionless, standing speechless. "Oh my bad!" you finally let out, getting off the bed and sitting on the nearby futon. "Take the bed, you need it!"

He looked down and walked towards the bed, laying down then sighing, "Do the rest of the men know where we are?"

"Yeah, I let Anakin know what happened and he knows you're here with me. Kix is a little overwhelmed with injuries right now."

"Good," he nodded, wincing in pain.

You noticed the wince and shot up, rushing to his side, "What hurts?"

"My side," he grunted, grabbing his ribs.

"Mind if I take a look?" you asked, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah, go a head," he nodded, taking off his shirt, then laying back down.

Your lips parted as you stared at his bare chest. His extra hours lifting at the gym were evident. You put your hand on his chest and dragged your fingers down to his stomach.

"Gene-(Y/N)?" he asked, confused with what you are doing.

You stopped in your tracks, "Oh right, yes, I am so sorry. I just. Yeah. Lemme take a look at that." Your cheeks flushed pink as you examined his side, realizing he definitely has a broken rib. As you were attending to his wounds, he couldn't help but stare at your robe, which was becoming loose, revealing a portion of cleavage. He swallowed hard, and began to breathe heavy. Jesse was in complete awe that this was actually happening.

"(Y/N)," he finally let out, causing you to direct your attention to his face.

You hummed in response. He tilted his head slightly, looking at you in silence.

"Yes, Jesse?" you whispered, inching closer to him.

His gaze was still locked on your eyes. Yours on his. Not even the loudest explosion in the would could break this.

"What are you thinking," you exhaled, moving closer to him yet again.

"Are you getting closer to me?"

"Perhaps."

"I think I want to k-"

"Me too."

His lips met yours with passion. Your lips fit perfectly upon his. As he deepened the kiss, you laid down on your side, moving your leg over his. His hand ran down your back, resting on your thigh that was thrown over his legs.

Jesse pulled away, looking at the beauty in front of him. He removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on your shoulder, which has been exposed by your robe being pulled down every so slightly.

"I've been wanting to tell you this since the moment I saw you,  but, you are so, so, so, unbelievably stunning," he breathed, smiling at the vision of you.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do this," you smiled back, kissing his chest softly.

With each small motion, your robe fell more and more off your shoulder, revealing much more than Jesse though he would ever see.

His stare of love became evident of agony, trying to prevent the urge of a growing heat between his legs.

You softly laughed and gave him another gentle kiss, "If it's bound to happen, let it happen." You removed the rest of your robe, exposing everything that wasn't covered by the lace.

Jesse could no longer hold it and cupped your cheek, passionately bringing you to his lips.

Though his physical wound may take a while to heal, his broken heart was officially mended.

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[azurevi]

on land where we can touch the moon (3/?)

PART 1 PART 2

Everything was weird up here, like how the air felt thin and the stuff was all too dry, but Azul supposed it's only natural. 

It was a sleepless night. He was inside a guarded guest room in a palace whose outline was too blurry in the night to make out. The bed beneath him was the softest one ever. Most importantly, he had legs. At this thought, he raised them in the air, stretching to the very end. 

At some point into the dead of the night Azul had started to feel hope again. To find the most beautiful thing in this world was the only way to ensure that he didn't turn into inanimate water bubbles, and it was arguably the easiest task ever.

Everything on here is beautiful, of course. He could just snatch any one of it. Beauty held no prejudice, there's no prettier or less pretty, just pleasing. Certainly, the Raven Healer hadn't thought of that.

Before he'd gone to bed, the guards having rescued him told him that they would need him in the morning. They seemed way too friendly to a foreign man standing on the beach in the middle of the night, hiding behind a rock along with a golden statue-

The golden statue! 

He'd completely forgotten about that. Hopefully the statue was unscathed. Azul started making plans to retrieve it during the day.

Thoughts came rushing, leaving him tired in their wake. He started to wonder what Jade and Floyd were doing right now. How would they act upon knowing what had happened? Surely Jade would get mad at his impulsiveness. Floyd would probably feel down because of his disappearance. 

It didn't sit right with Azul, leaving his friends behind irresponsibly, but he had no other choice. If he managed to get the Raven Healer off his back, it would equally mean that the chances of seeing the twins again was slim to none, though if he failed the chance would be a solid zero.

And these thoughts just came on and on, asking him, what have you done, what have you done, what have you done?

"You look good for someone who was still sick as a dog yesterday," you teased.

"Wake up sleepy head!" a booming loud voice had you jolting upright and gasping in fear. Ace looked well-dressed and way too energetic this early in the morning.

"What can I say. I heal in a flash," Ace flexed his arm muscle. His show didn't last long though, as Deuce rushed in and pushed him out of the way.

"Your highness! You're going to want to hear about this. We were patrolling along the beach last night, and-"

"What is this ruckus?!" Deuce was pushed aside in a similar manner. A taste of his own medicine. Jack appeared by the door, looking sharp and dressed up just like the others.

You rubbed your forehead in exasperation. All the sleepiness that you were still drowning in evaporated the moment they started bickering again.

"Ok, stop!" you said. The three of them fell into silence and turned to you. "Deuce. What were you trying to say?"

"Oh, right. Ace and I were patrolling along the beach, and guess what we found?"

You shook your head, but he kept waiting.

"...we found a man," Ace finished the sentence for Deuce, who glared at him in distaste.

"Why haven't I heard of this?" Jack challenged with a deep frown. 

"You see, you were asleep! We didn't want to disturb you,"

Jack didn't look satisfied with the answer, but he seemed quite content with not having his sleep disturbed by two chirping nuisances. 

"Anyways, that's not the point! The point is that he matches the descriptions of the man who'd saved you that day!" Deuce said.

Now that was a real serotonin. Your eyes rounded and the weariness in your limbs faded away as you asked, "Are you for sure? Where is he? Did he admit that-"

"Slow, slow!" Ace shushed. "We didn't press him with too many questions. He's now resting in the guest room. We can fetch him for you anytime," he winked provocatively.

"Of course. They're splendid," Azul said. "But I do have an inquiry,"

You took a deep breath, then jumped off your bed swiftly. "I told you I was not out of my mind! Arrange a meeting an hour from now and bring me my best outfit!"

"Are you sure you're alright in those shoes?" the blue-haired guard who'd introduced himself as Deuce asked, looking back with concern. Azul had been so distracted that he'd tripped thrice during the short walk through the corridor.

"Ask away," the red head, Ace said.

"Why am I needed by your highness?"

Ace and Deuce shared a meaningful look, and Azul was sure they'd raised the corners of their lips in mischief.

"Because they've been waiting for you, Mr Ashen…" Ace's confidence faded as he pondered over Azul's last name. "Mr Ashento?"

"Ashengrotto," Azul repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. Deuce only shook his head in disappointment.

Azul was led through an outdoor garden, and as he passed a fountain he looked down at his reflection. It was completely devoid of who he'd been just mere days ago. The man looking back at him was dressing in a fitting blue suit, the tie slightly pressing into his throat. His hair was groomed so perfectly that he didn't dare make the slightest of change. 

Bushes and flowers lined up and created a clear pathway for him to pass. Creatures that he'd only heard of and half-believed, like butterflies and sparrows, were all presenting themselves before him, chirping and swirling like they were reserved only for his eyes.

Ace and Deuce were already walking up the huge flight of steps, the top of which showed the front entrance. Azul planned his steps carefully as he raced up. Guards stood every ten steps, and none of them paid attention to Azul at all. 

At the top of the steps was a long corridor. There were so many archways and alleys in here that it was a miracle how Ace and Deuce didn't get lost at all. So they turned and turned, passing by curious and curiouser faces, until they stood before an exceptionally high archway. With each of their hands on either side of the two-person door, they pushed it open while announcing Azul in a booming voice.

"Your highness, here is Mr Ashengrotto to see you," 

When they didn't move from their position, Azul reckoned awkwardly that he was to walk up the red carpet alone, and so he lowered his head in respect and fear and walked until he was quite close enough.

And there stood the princette. The royal figure. He could only see your feet for he didn't dare gaze any further.

"Mr Ashengrotto?"

Now that was a familiar voice that seemed to cause ripples in his mind. He gazed up tentatively and his breath almost caught.

Oh, he should've known. How could he be so slow?

"Mr Ashengrotto, is it?" you asked with an excited smile. He failed to smile back, still in shock's grip.

"Yeah, yeah," he cleared his throat. "Azul Ashengrotto,"

Beside him stood a melanin man, arms crossed and looking down on him as though he was an easy prey. Azul recognized him as the guy who'd talked to you about marriage that night. Jack, if he was not mistaken.

"I'm-" you seemed to be paralyzed with joy. "I'm ever so grateful to have been able to find you. You still remember saving me on the beach that day, yes?"

Azul gulped, his mind racing around to make up a persuasive story. "I do remember, your highness,"

"Splendid, then. I would like to thank you. I would've died if it hadn't been for you. Which is exactly why I have to repay you! Is there anything you'd like? Just ask away!"

Jack coughed loudly, clearly hinting something, but you seemed to have missed it. Or rather, you paid no mind to him and continued looking at Azul expectedly.

"I-uh," he stammered embarrassingly. He wished he could have had more courage to speak to you confidently, like a knight in shining armor or a chivalrous soldier. "There's nothing I quite need, your highness,"

Liar. There're a lot of things Azul wanted in life, and on top of the list, the 'most beautiful thing in the world'. But he couldn't possibly ask for it, could he? It'd put him in a bad light. He'd want anything but to appear a villain in your eyes.

"That won't do. You must need something. Worry not, nothing's impossible," you chased, and Azul could see now that you were genuinely asking to grant his wishes. There was eagerness in your voice where a hint of tentative interest leaked. He had failed to notice how you've gone out of your way to lean forward, though there was still a decent distance between you. In the finest clothes you carried the promise of hope that wouldn't be extinguished by consternation, and suddenly Azul felt so, so small. Like a child who longed for the unrealistic sky.

"Well then," he found himself complying. "I'm actually quite in need for a safe shelter,"

"Done," you smirked. "The room in which you stayed will belong to you until further announcement,"

"Your-"

"Your highness, we need a word," Jack butted in and snatched you away from Azul's sight. You seemed to be engaged in a fierce conversation as he flaunted his hands in exasperation. Azul swiveled and found Deuce and Ace leanly sluggishly against the marble walls.

After what seemed like forever, you finally reemerged with a restrained smile. "Like I said, Mr Ashengrotto, you will have the ownership of our finest guest room. However, you will have to take on a role in the palace to eventually afford your own place,"

"It's more than enough. Thank you so much, your highness," Azul bowed deeply, eyes shut in mixed feelings. He's got a shelter in what could possibly be the grandest place on the land of the humas, where you lived, where he's bound to find wonders that could fulfill the Raven Healer's wish. 

After Ace and Deuce led him back to his room and planted the looming fear of getting lost in his heart, Azul started looking for a place to start. How he would deal with his current situation he wasn't sure, but the crucial thing right now is to make sure he would live longer than three days.

The vases, the carpet, the golden brimmed cups. There were so many catchy things fighting for his attention that he became restless. He'd never felt so hopeless surrounded by treasures.

There were knocks on the door and Azul took it as a chance to rest his search. Standing on the other side was you again, but in a much more casual and plain, yet still plush outfit.

"Hey. Would you like to accompany me for lunch?" you asked. Azul subtly surveyed around and found himself relaxing in the absence of Jack. It wasn't that he hated him. He just disliked how Jack always seemed to be suspicious of him. I'm onto you, his expressions seemed to say.

And so the two of you walked through the same replicated hallways and into a larger, even grander room, where, to Azul's disappointment, waited Jack.

"Lunch will be served soon," he said, this time not bothering so much as to glance at Azul. Azul was thankful for that.

"In the meantime, let's learn more about each other!" you suggested, propping your elbows on the table as you waited. "So, Azul, where are you from?"

He was prepared for everything but that. How could he respond when he didn't even know the very own kingdom he was in?

"The… the East. From across the ocean,"

"The East! I heard it's famous for cultivation. How did you end up an ocean away?" 

Another unintentionally sharp question.

"I was hoping to seek some fortune, I suppose. It was hard living over there, and I thought, why not change the scenery?"

"Well, now you know it works because you've got yourself a guest room in the palace," you giggled.

The door was flung open and emotionless butlers served dishes after dishes. There were food and cuisine that Azul had never seen of -- like green leaves and red, juicy pearls, a bowl of creamy liquid called 'soup' and a dry crunchy loaf of bread. Then the man pried the lid away, and Azul found himself resisting the urge to gag. 

"Do you not like crabs?" you asked, nonetheless noticing his change.

"I, uh, allergic," he pushed the dish to the side slowly, frowning in embarrassment. Seemingly to have read his expression you dropped the topic, and the three of you dug into your food.

Jack kept bringing up your pending list of proposals, either from neighbouring kingdoms or dukes who believed wealth could get them out and in of everything. And with every passing minute your shoulders slumped lower and lower until you were squishing the side of your cheek on your palm and looking uninterested than ever.

"Your highness," Azul decided to speak up, earning a thankful expression from you. As for Jack, he preferred not to take note of his reaction. "May I take a tour inside the palace later?"

"Absolutely! I'll be your tour guide!"

"Your highness, you still have documents-"

"Documents that can wait, Jack. Let's finish this as quickly as we can and get going," you flashed him a wink, which seemed more like an illusion for it was long gone before it could be registered. 

Jack'd insisted on tagging along, but you were adamant that you went alone, hence explaining why the two of you were now barging in and out room after room.

The library was filled from floor to ceiling with collections of books in dozens of languages, about hundreds and thousands of things. Azul spent an hour or so proving his belief that at least some of these books had to be fake, but they were at most uncut.

"What do you need so many books for?" Azul asked as he ran his fingers across the book. The rough texture of the paper was something entirely foreign, and he found the scent of the pages close to musky.

"I believe it's to flaunt," you commented bitterly. "My parents never stop buying them. I'd rather give them to people who're actually literate,"

"Are you deeming them illiterate?" Azul asked.

"They're just way too busy to even read a page. It's such a waste. All this knowledge locked up from people who actually need it,"

Could knowledge be the most beautiful thing in this world, for it opened eyes and introduced new lands to every type of creature? 

Azul was about to make an inquiry, but you beat him to it. "Let's go to the vault. It's just down the hallway,"

"Vault?"

"Yeah. Treasure vault," you raised a brow. "Don't worry. Jack won't hunt you down for it. He's softer than he looks,"

Azul found it hard to believe.

The vault was guarded by four armed guards, who pulled the door with combined force. Light spilled out from the crack before it was even completely opened. Chests were locked and placed at the feet of the hills of glistening accessories. Even the walls were decorated by framed paintings and posters behind marble statues that looked horrifyingly surreal. The closer you got, the wider Azul's jaw hung. With these piles of gold coins with necklaces and jewels interspersed among them -- four guards were certainly insufficient to guard this place!

"You know, if you want anything, just go for it!" you said, making random observations on the treasures.

"I can't possibly, your highness,"

"Why, of course you can. Because I said so," 

"You're quite bossy, huh?" the words slipped Azul's lips before he could realize, and he immediately covered his mouth. "I'm terribly sorry, your highness, I didn't mean-"

Rather than enraged, you looked amused. At his flustered state, you burst into laughs that were almost inconsiderate. 

"It's not the first time I've been called that. It's completely fine. Loosen up, will you?"

You swiveled around curiously, then your eyes lit up with a gleam. "Let me show you something!"

Azul could swore he almost passed out from shock when you grabbed his wrist. Such an unexpected but friendly gesture. No one'd ever done this to him before.

He came face to face with the golden statue that'd been on his mind for days. It was the one that'd sunk into the sea, the reason he'd fled from his realm, the replicate of your aura. It seemed as though it followed everywhere he went.

"Deuce and Ace ordered this for my birthday," you gasped. "You don't know, do you? The day you saved me was also my birthday. I was so lucky,"

"Likewise," he smiled shyly. He could still feel the burning wonder in his chest, the exploding firework and ruckus on deck. The hype of it all, the pbeat melodies and items and tools that he'd never seen. He could be trapped in that moment forever and never get bored.

"I don't really like it though. Too… pretentious, I think,"

"I think it portrays you just fine,"

You swiveled around with another amused smile, quietly surveying him. And to his own surprise, he held your gaze steadily as if everything would be okay if he'd just stayed in this moment forever.

It was probably a favourable time to ask for your opinion. But then you looked away, and his words were swallowed instead.

It didn't matter. Azul still had time.

Nothing seemed to have changed, which was normal. However, for Azul this beach seemed to be reminding him of all the things that'd happened -- the day he rescued you from the tempest, the night when he made a deal with the Raven Healer, and this sunset when he's strolling on the sand beside you, which was almost like a fever dream, or a fantasy.

By the time you'd finished introducing the palace and suggested a small walk on the beach, the sun was already setting in impatience. The sea, tainted red, stretched out to infinity and on top of that, a looming darkness neared the thin horizon. The wind was cool and welcoming, and it'd messed with your hair so many times already that you decided to let it be. It was something that Azul could never see under the cramped sea.

But you were still real and present.

"Have you… heard of the Raven Healer?" Azul asked gingerly.

"Oh, of course. He's the most renowned magician in the world," you said. 

"I see," he bit his lip, unsure how to ask for more. "What is he known for?"

"Well, for one, he's powerful and masters almost all elements of magic, which makes him the rarest among the rare, because magic isn't all that common around here. His mysteriousness probably contributes to it too. People are attracted to what they don't know,"

Just like how Azul yearned for the land. 

"Have you ever met him, then?"

"God, no," you chuckled. "Rumor is that he only ever finds you. He can't be tracked down. I've also heard that he only approaches those who are in dire need of his help. It sounds like a very charitable act, but some hearsay say that he's actually a greedy man who takes advantage of people's dreams. There's even a third version, about how he punishes sinners by pretending to give them what they want while actually making them taste their own medicine. Personally I like the first story, it's reassuring knowing that there's a capable and chivalrous magician out there,"

Azul was pretty sure your belief was false. Every evident pointed to the third story - about how he made sinners realize their evil and thus punish them. Perhaps this could explain why his scandalous deal was so much like Azul's, and how he couldn't seem to find anything to satisfy it.

If his assumptions were true, then perhaps it was to punish him for all the frauds he'd committed. No matter how much he repented, guilt could still somehow find a way back to him like a haunting, lingering ghost.

"You said you were new around here, right?" you opened a new topic and immediately Azul's worries were torn away.

"Yeah," he lied.

"Well, perhaps I can show you around the kingdom tomorrow. What do you say?"

"Just the two of us?" he asked.

"I could bring Jack along, if you like?" you joked, raising a skeptical brow. Azul scrunched his nose in dismay, to which you laughed in response.

"Fine, fine. But if he insists on coming with, we'll have to sneak out,"

Sneaking out had never sounded so thrilling before, and he found himself rather looking forward to it. 

"Speaking of Jack. Why is he so worked up about your marriage?"

You sighed, and for a moment Azul feared that he had ruined your mood. But you carried on with the same softness in your voice.

"There are a lot of heirs from different kingdoms asking for my hand in marriage, actually. They are mostly aiming for our kingdom's fertile resources. Father and mother encourage it too, for they want to form alliance with other kingdoms. At first they were very laid back, but I guess I've been ignoring it for too long. Now I've got everybody agitated,"

"It's not your fault. They can't force you if you don't want to do it,"

"Yeah, but it's still my responsibility, you know." you waved vaguely at the colossal palace behind you. "I could hate it as much as I want, but it's my mission to secure the kingdom,"

"Not to be blunt, your highness, but if you're pushing it back, doesn't it mean you don't want to fulfil your mission at all?"

You frowned slightly. "That was really blunt, you know?"

He only grinned. "I'm right though."

At that, you sighed. "Yeah. I guess you're. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life with someone whom I barely know. It's cliche, really, but I prefer real and fervent love over materialistic and - forced relationships,"

"Then don't marry," Azul murmured. "Wait until you find the one true love,"

You remained silent, and Azul was somehow too scared to meet your eyes. Silence settled between the two of you, serene and tranquil, familiar and comforting.

"We should head back," you started abruptly, as if you'd been practicing this line over and over again. "It's getting late,"

Then it was quiet all over again. Azul turned to the dark sky, then to the palace's outline, then to you who was closely beside him. 

You were like a trap, dangerous and alluring. You had a way of stealing the spotlight, and every trivial act you did was a stern promise of hope. Somehow, time passed quicker when he's with you, and his worries seemed to retreat into their caves in the meanwhile.

And it's dangerous, for he was so spellbound by you that by the time he'd come to realization, a day had already passed.

[neshatriumphs]

IV. Ability and Accountability

By the time they made it back to the fortress, Simon was so weak that he was crawling. Grace walked unto the property while Lucy directed some of the other witches to carry him away. He couldn’t pass the fortress’ barrier without the proper passage, and Simon had none. “What do I do with your new pet rat?” Lucy wondered.

Grace sputtered some air through her lips and thought about where there might be space. “Well, we’ve occupied most of the backup places because of the Conductor’s attacks on the outer realms. I think that the best place for him is my solitude cottage.”

“Are… you going to be in there while he’s in there?”

“I’ll check up on him, make sure the healing process flows.”

Lucy reached for her dress to pull her attention lower. Grace kneeled to Lucy’s level to hear what she had to say. “If you give the Queen a conductor’s baby, she WILL implement a sterilization curse on all of us.”

“Lucy!” 

“Don’t think about your loins. Think about the future.”

Lucy didn’t have anything else to say. She was a junior master of animal related magic. She knew how pheromones worked and with those two, there was almost an instant trigger of Grace’s body… responding to that blond heretic. Lucy had not yet gotten the chance to assess him around the princess, but she certainly would. There was no way that she was leaving her to her own devices with him, or worst - to his devices. “Take the heretic to the princess’ cottage. Instill the highest degree of security and put him in stasis. Have two guards stationed at all times. Armed ones. He’s dangerous. I can smell it on him.” 

Lucy smelled nothing but blood whenever Simon was near. She didn’t know if that was because he had been covered in it when they first saw him or because he regularly had it on him and it had become part of his natural scent - but she knew the smell of blood very well. The smell of a massacre. Of the hunt. Had she not been as good as magic as she was, it would have been the smell of her fate. When she was 4, she flew on her first bird to escape the Conductor’s raid of her village and lost her eye in the process of trying to tame the thing long enough to convince it that she was a friend who needed help. The princess had saved her and taken her in. The princess had been moved by her bravery and her strength. When so many other raid refugees were sent to recovery camps, awaiting safe spaces to become denizens, now that their homes had been ravaged, Grace had said, “Let me keep this one.”

The Queen looked at her and figured that Grace just wanted a pet. A little orphan girl that was good enough with magic to communicate with animals, despite never having had a lesson a day in her life. “If you can give back a working eye, you can keep her as your pet.”

“Mom, she’s a witch and a survivor. Have some respect.” Grace had brought herself to Lucy’s level for the first time that day. She pulled off her glove and said, “I’m sorry for what they’ve taken from you, but I’m glad that you’re still here.” She reached out, touched Lucy’s damaged eye… and Lucy felt like her brain was on fire. She screamed an agonizing scream and Grace quickly tried to comfort her and regretted ever attempting the fix. She pulled her glove back on and collected the girl, cradled her and carried her into her room.

“You didn’t fix it, Grace!” Her mother called out, but never bothered her about Lucy again. Lucy just belonged to Grace, now. Grace had bandaged the girl up and nursed her, herself. It was the first person that she had actually physically taken care of herself, and Lucy was confident that she just always would, so she made it up in her mind that she was going to take care of her too.

.

Simon was down for three days. He tried to get up several times, but wound up feeling drained and had to sit right back down. Whenever he was resting someone would come in and do things around the room. He was awake one time, and saw Grace, blooming flowers and he could literally see the healing properties flow from their blooms in pink and purple mist form. She danced around, moving the energy of the room, inviting in the good and ushering out the bad. He clutched the fluffy, heated, weighted covers to himself and watched her eagerly, but weakly. She made a pink and purplish cloud in the room and Simon inhaled it and felt his pain subside and his body going to sleep…

By the time he was able to get up and get out, he wandered out into what appeared to be training grounds. He stumbled out, and sat on a rock, tired. "Okay, so what Lucy's going to do is summon the owls, swirl them for a windstorm and use the windstorm to collapse this wall. Ready, Lucy?"

"Yes, Grace."

"Okay. Because if you fail, you know we'll have to kill you."

"Understood, Grace!" The girl said with a smile. 

Simon was intrigued. 

That seemed a faulty way to conduct lessons, but at the same time, there were plenty of students that had he killed them during lessons, they might not have had costly failures in the field. But, if someone messed up in the field and it cost you, they died right there. That was Simon's method. The Conductor couldn't suffer mistakes. Now Grace? She put on that sweet act, but this might show him the ruthless side of Grace that he knew she had, from the stories. This might show him the beast that he believed was beneath the beauty… the indescribable beauty...

Lucy waved her arms and made a sound that sounded like an owl. Her eye began to glow and her hair blew in the wind. Grace and several witches watched as owls flew to Lucy, flying in circles around her to match her hand movements. The winds were very severe. Simon had to get his footing and hold on to the rock. But, the wall only slightly shifted and the owls flew away without it having been knocked down. Lucy frowned and folded her arms. 

Grace gave her a sympathetic smile and said, "Next time, I'm sure. Everyone take a break." The other witches rushed away, while Lucy stayed to practice. 

"When do you kill her?" Simon asked from the rock. Grace and Lucy both looked at him, then each other. He walked over and explained himself. "You said that if she failed, you'd kill her and she failed miserably."

"It was a joke," Grace said. "Do they not have those in Conductor Territories?"

"Yes, but why joke about something so crucial? The difference between getting that spell right and whatever it is she just did are life and death. It makes sense to take away life for such failures. If she isn’t powerful enough to do simply training tasks, how can you even trust her beside you when it really counts?"

"Lucy, please excuse us." Lucy walked away slowly, adjusting the hair in the back of her head as she did. Grace blinked her eyes at Simon… 

"I'm not sure exactly what made you think that I wanted or needed your input, but Lucy is a child! You don't get to talk about how miserably you think that she did and you don't get to speak about her like she's nothing just because she didn't do so well, in your eyes."

"I just think that you should be honest about your expectations and serious about your penalties."

“Well, I think you should be honest about minding your business whenever it comes to my magic. You’re alive because of it. Furthermore… You kill children? Over mistakes?”

“What? No. But… is Lucy a real child? Like… You have a real child as your bodyguard?”

“As my…” Grace laughed and held her belly as she did. “My bodyguard? Dude… Lucy isn’t my bodyguard. She’s just very cautious and trying to do her best.” She didn’t want to say more to him about who Lucy was, because that could put the girl in danger, but definitely had to clear the air about having a 7 year old bodyguard, despite the fact that Lucy was extremely advanced in magic for her age and that was one of the main reasons that she was chosen. 

“I thought it was a familiar that took on the most bizarre alternative form…”

“Familiar? You have familiars in the Conductor’s practice?” Grace asked, horrified. Simon didn’t know why her tone was so alarmed, but he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. The truth was that he was the only person that he knew of to have one, but he didn’t want to say that, considering Grace’s reaction. He wanted to see her have a genuine reaction to SOMETHING. “Familiars are explicitly bonded to natural magic. They would DIE before committing to a fake witch, so all of your familiars are either some type of horrid abomination, or enslaved souls being forced to serve at the behest of the unclean by some new unspeakable horror that the fake witches call magic.”

He glared at her. “I’ll have you know that The Cat is VERY committed to me and I haven’t ever known of her to have any complaint whatsoever, and if you’re suggesting that she’s any less of a companion than your weird little cyclops failure witch, we can fight about it right now.”

“The Cat,” Grace said, suspiciously. She remembered the paw print of a cat whenever she crumbled the curse a week ago. Surely… the same person who did that wasn’t bold or stupid enough to just come back into their territory, flashing skin and green eyes, thinking that he could… whatever he was here for. Surely… This was not the person who was attacking her people. This was a student of the Conductor, yes. But, he was just a simple student who had gotten lost and attacked, and they were mending him and sending him back, because they had no proof that he had committed anything beyond heresy, and due to the fact that there was a school that preyed upon orphans and poor children, The One had become lenient to young Conductor practitioners in Grace’s lifetime. They were allowed to experience the realms of the One and to be assimilated, to be salvaged from the Conductor’s grasp. But, if Simon was the wizard slaying her denizens, citizens, and allies…

“Yeah. The Cat,” he said. You couldn’t give a natural witch the name of a familiar, because they could call upon them and possibly utilize them for their bidding. To protect Samantha, Simon had taken to calling her “The Cat,” no matter who he was speaking to about her. The only person that he knew for sure even knew her name was Amelia.

“I’d like to meet her,” Grace told him. 

“That’s an important sign to me to keep her away from you.” 

Grace bit her lip, in thought and walked away. She might have to try to bring a witch with her that was good at assessing the story of scenes through touching the things left there. But… until then, maybe Lucy was right and this was a dangerous conductor. He certainly had a lot of runes for a lot of magic. She supposed that his age and his looks got the best of her. Because, even with wondering if he might be a horrible wizard… she still took note of the fact that he had on a crop top long sleeved hooded shirt that covered his arms but left his V and his happy trail exposed. His pants hung low on his waist, bogged down a little bit by the things on his belt, the weapons and other things he must’ve felt it necessary to carry around. And… his eyes. She stared at him, looking into them was like being washed away in deep seas of green waters, sparkling in the sun’s majesty… “When can I leave?” he asked, and it was like the waves crashed into her and splashed her out of a stupor.

“Whenever you want. But, if you need a guide, you’ll have to wait for an available escort. Otherwise, we’ve gotta activate the labyrinth. You feel ready to defend yourself against another ghom?”

He considered his options. He didn’t know if he would ever feel ready to defend himself against another ghom, and he had yet to get enough intel to bring in a raid party. Plus, he hadn’t gotten closer to her trusting him and being able to get close enough to slay her. He gave her a small, almost bashful smile and shrugged, “No… I guess not. Well, Princess. I guess for the time being, I’m all yours.” She heard a muffled whimper that she knew came from her, even though she couldn’t feel herself make that sound. His eyebrow raised. “I can help you teach your students better magic. That wall should’ve come down no problem.”

She smiled and folded her arms, “You knock it down. Using only wind.” 

He nodded his head, shoved his hands out in front of him and began to rotate his wrists. She could see the green glowing shining through is hooded shirt, and of course, the light of his green eyes. She felt the winds power up and noticed the students all watching, with only Lucy’s back being pointed towards him. Simon knocked down half of the rocks that were there making up the wall. The students clapped. Lucy stayed still. Simon looked at his hands and at the only half damaged wall. “I’m not at 100%,” he said. 

Grace gave him a sympathetic smile and said, "Next time, I'm sure.” She patted him on the back and slapped playfully at his hair, causing him to blush, then she gathered up her own winds to set the boulders back up for the next round of practice. But first, she had a lesson to teach them all about ability and accountability. Simon saw the students sitting down in front of her, in the dirt as she lectured, barefoot, in front of them and he sat down too, next to Lucy, who just gave him a look, which he returned. They did not care for each other, but they turned away at the same time to give their attention back to Grace. 

[saultnpeppah]

Day 3: The proposal

Day 3: The proposal for the WonderBat event “Steps to the Altar”. It’s a long one, but I hope you all enjoy!

March 1. Downtown Gotham. 9:10

Diana

I love the sun. I love the brightness it casts over the gloomy city, promising a better day over each hidden corner it illuminates. I love the heat that radiates from its core, the warmth it brings, giving life to those things left dead by the harsh temperament of Gotham winters. I love the hope it brings when you wake up to see the sun peeking through the clouds, greeting you with a magnificent glimpse of all you can accomplish.

Growing up in Greece, the sun greeted me most mornings. I often found myself staring out at the ocean in awe, wondering how something so seemingly small could be so powerful. When Mother and I had moved to Gotham, my sunshine filled days were soon overshadowed by the gloomy overcast and clouds that reigned over the Gotham skies most of the year. Eventually I learned to find the beauty in the vastly different weather of Gotham to my hometown. That did not mean I still did not miss the sunshine.

Every time the sun took a chance, peeking through the low clouds that filled the sky, I was out soaking it up. When I went back to Greece for a few years after college, I spent most days outside, soaking up the warmth, storing it up for the winter nights here in Gotham when it felt like the wind chilled me to the bones. The sunshine was a rarity, and I never wanted to take it for granted. This would explain why the phone call I had received an hour ago had frustrated me to no end.

When Charlie had called me at nearly eight this morning, I had had a foot out the door, ready to run some personal errands before enjoying my one day to myself in nearly three weeks. Things at work had become hectic, and with a new exhibit expected to open at the end of the month, I had spent every waking moment focused on work. Of course, once Charlie had called, frantically explaining they were having an issue procuring one of the items for the exhibit, I knew the sunshine would have to wait. I had a job to do.

My footsteps squeak against the freshly waxed floors as I make my way to my office, trying not to overthink the vague message in Charlie's call earlier. I am unable to help the worry that settles over me and my feet begin to carry me faster, making a sharp turn at the end of the hallway. The cell phone in my coat pocket begins to ring and I quickly pull it out, a small sigh escaping my lips when I see Bruce's name flash across the screen. He's been in Star City for the last few days, meeting with Oliver Queen and his company, trying to find a way to save the company of the reformed playboy. Bruce knows all too well how a bad image can ruin a company, as he nearly lost his because of stupid mistakes on his end. Fortunately for Bruce, he had Lucius. Oliver, however, did not.

Silencing the phone, I continue down the bright hallway, shoving the device back into my coat pocket promising to return his call when I am not in the middle of a drawback that could not only hurt my career, but also the reputation of the museum. Besides, Bruce will understand. He knows it has been a busy week, and although I hate the months when we are both so busy we hardly get to see each other, it's nice to have a partner who understands the demands of a job. Bruce doesn't fret when I have to stay late at the museum. He doesn't complain when I have to drop plans last minute because an artifact goes missing. He respects my job, as I do his, and I love him all the more for it.

When I finish my journey down the hallway, I continue into my office, barging in the door, ready for whatever chaos may be on the other end. My stomach sinks when I see Charlie on the phone, sweat dripping down the side of her face as she clenches the half eaten bagel that was surely her breakfast in her hand. She frantically waves me over, trying to distract me from the two men sitting at her desk, their head in their hands- whatever has happened is not going to be an easy fix and something tells me I'm going to have to cancel dinner with Alfred for the second time this week.

Immediately my fingers begin to work their way to the buttons on my coat, pulling one loose, ready to settle in for the day and fix this mix up, before Charlie lifts a finger and shakes her head. She nudges a few of her dark curls out of her face, staring at me with dark brown eyes while she nods to whoever is on the other end of the phone. "Of course," she says after a few moments, forcing a laugh to hide the anxiety that is beginning to creep up. "We'll get it fixed right away, Sir," she says, addressing the mystery caller.

My heart begins to pound. Charlie is usually so confident, so sure of herself and her abilities. That is why she is part of my team. When I took this job, I was up against candidates with much more experience, both in museums and in life. I was younger and I was still looking for ways to change the way museums ran, and many did not like that. My first year I ran into a lot of hurdles, but I pushed through, eventually gaining the trust of the board of trustees. That didn't mean I had been able to slack off. In fact, every exhibit, every artifact, every presentation, I need to do my best, which is why I work with the best.

Charlie is my main assistant curator. She knows the ins and outs of every exhibit here in the museum, and on the occasion I am not here, she is able to run things flawlessly. But the look she has on her face is making me worry more by the second. "I will call you with an update soon," Charlie promises into the phone, letting another nervous chuckle pass through her lips before she ends the call, slamming the phone onto the base in the corner of her desk.

"Do I want to know who that was?" I ask

Charlie shakes her head. "Andrew Lemming," she answers anyway. She wipes her sweaty palms onto her pant legs, turns, and grabs something off her desk.

Something big must have happened if the President of the Board of Trustees is calling demanding it be fixed right away. "Someone mislabeled one of the accounts," Charlie explains, glaring at the two men seated behind me. Arthur and Daryl are our newest hires, and they both came highly recommended- it's hard to imagine them making a mistake this crucial. "One of the shipments got mixed up and is halfway across town but because you're the one who put in the original order, you're the one who has to go down there."

She hands me a sticky note and I read the address written in blue ink. It's going to take at least forty minutes to get to where this is and probably another hour to get everything situated. I will definitely need to call Alfred to cancel our dinner plans tonight. The thought alone makes me sad, as he was going to tell me about Bruce's second grade volcano project that went horribly wrong, resulting in a complete renovation of the kitchen; it was definitely a story that would produce a laugh big enough to cure the stress of the last few days.

I shove the sticky note containing the address into my pocket beside my phone and turn on my heel, walking out of the office with a nod to the two men who are still sulking at Arthur's desk. I walk through the maze that constructs the basement of the museum, a sense of urgency lingering in my movements. It isn't long before I am in my car, jabbing the keys into the ignition and bringing the vehicle to life, before speeding off, hoping I can fix this before everything else goes sideways.

XXXXXXX

West End. 11:17.

The drive to the west end takes longer than expected, thanks to a fender bender on the highway that blocked nearly three of the four lanes. I had offered to help, silently cursing myself for offering a helping hand when I was on a strict timeline myself, however the two drivers only shook their heads and went about their day, already halfway through with exchanging information. Not wanting to press my luck, I drove straight to the address Charlie had given me, focused on the task at hand.

I knew it was going to be a long day. When I was done here, and had the artifact safely in my possession, preferably in a vault at the museum, I was in for a ton of paperwork. I would need to figure out how the mix up happened and how I would be able to assure the Board something like this would not happen again. Thank the gods I had accepted the second cup of coffee Alfred had offered this morning. I was going to need it.

I turn the wheel of my car one last time, letting the vehicle make the last turn that my GPS orders from me, before I shift gears, placing the car in park in front of a warehouse, and pull the keys from the ignition. My phone rings from the inside of my coat again, and I reach into my pocket, unable to help the sigh that falls from my mouth, worried about what else might be happening at the office. Bruce's name flashes on the screen once more, causing my lips to curl into a smile even though I swear my hair is graying from all the stress. Just the thought of him relaxes me slightly and even though I know I need to get into the warehouse, I want to hear his voice, if only to prevent the raging migraine I can feel forming at my temples.

"Hi," I say into the phone, placing it to my ear, letting my head fall back onto the top of my seat.

"Hi," is his response. "Everything okay?"

"No," I answer truthfully. He's going to hear about it when he comes back anyway, there is no use lying to him now. "One of the pieces for the Tibet exhibit is missing and I'm trying to track it down."

"How did that happen?" he asks. I find myself shrugging, even though I know he cannot see me, and pinch the bridge of my nose. Hearing his voice wasn't as soothing as I had wanted, and I can feel the tension growing by the second.

"I don't know," is all I say, as I reach into the glove compartment, pull out a bottle of aspirin, open it, and dump two pills into my hand. "I'm fixing it."

"That's why they pay you the big bucks," he says. I know there is that stupid smirk on his face and I shake my head and scoff.

"Shush." My eyes glance up to my dashboard, taking a look at the time displayed. My hand reaches across my body and unbuckles my seat belt, before it grabs the handle to the door of my car and opens it up. "I have to go," I explain, stepping out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk that leads to the warehouse. "I'll talk to you later."

"Of course," he says. "Don't stress out, Diana," he says, "it'll work out." With that he ends the call.

I close the door to the car, clenching my keys tightly in my hand as I try to let out a steady breath, trying to calm myself. As I follow the cemented path to the front of the warehouse, I slip my keys into my coat pocket. My phone is inches from following my keys to their fabric resting spot when it begins to ring again.

"Hello," I answer so quickly I don't even bother to look at the number flashing on the screen.

"Di," Charlie's voice rings out, "you make it to the warehouse?"

"Yes," is my answer. When I reach the front of the warehouse I let the door slide open before I step inside, letting the hot air radiating from the heater behind the front counter warm my body. The receptionist who stands beside the heater smiles my way, pushes her glasses up her thin nose, and tilts her head. "Hi," I greet, trying my hardest to conjure a friendly smile. It is not this woman's fault I am here. She deserves some common courtesy.

"Hello," she says. "How can I help you?"

I shift my phone, moving the mic away from my mouth as Charlie is not the intended other party for this conversation, and pull my work badge from where it hangs around my neck. "I'm from the museum," I say, handing her the badge. "There was a mix up that I was told I needed to fix."

She lifts my badge, reads my name, and nods. "Ms. Prince, of course!" she exclaims. "Yes, I do believe we have something for you." She lets go of my badge and I stuff it back into my jacket, watching as she disappears behind the counter, only to appear moments later carrying a small wooden box. "Here it is," she says as she places the box onto the counter. She hands me a receipt and offers me a pen, watching as I sign for it, before she offers me another smile. "Thank you. You're all set."

Confused, I only nod and walk out of the building, the wooden box tucked safely under my arm. "Well that was quicker than I expected," I say into the phone, unlocking the car and hopping inside.

Charlie lets out another nervous chuckle. "Did you get the right one?" she asks.

My hand reaches for the glove compartment, opens it, and pulls out the pocket knife that I keep inside. My shoulder raises up and pins the phone to my ear and my hands work the knife around the box, slicing the labels and stickers around the box, carefully wiggling the blade between the boards trying to pry it open without damaging what is inside.

The box opens and I flash a grin, happy with my success. I carefully fold the knife and place it back into the glove box and place the top piece of wood onto my passenger seat, glancing into the box, hoping to find my artifact safe and sound. What I don't expect, however, are the four flowers laying inside. "What the hell," I mutter, lifting the flowers from the box, and rummage through the packing materials in hopes of finding the missing item. "There's no mask."

Charlie lets out a giggle and I stop my search. "I'm sorry," she says, "but I couldn't help myself."

My eyes narrow and I toss the box containing only paper packing material onto my passenger seat. Charlie has always been one to pull practical jokes, and while I would be on the receiving end of those pranks from time to time, none were nearly this elaborate or time consuming. "You're an ass," is the only thing I can say. "You made me come in for this."

"No, Di," she says, "it wasn't me. I was only a part of this elaborate plan."

My eyes scan over the flowers in my hand, clenching the four roses. There is a note laying in the box and I am quick to reach for it, my eyebrow raising as I read the all too familiar handwriting. I will love you until the last one dies. I take another look at the flowers and notice one is brighter than the other three and my lips curl into a smile when I realize it is plastic.

Bruce.

A comment made the night of our Freshman Orientation, when Bruce and I had been watching some cheesy romance movie where the main love interest had done something similar. I can't believe he remembered this, after all those years.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, remembering Charlie is still on the other end, "You're still an ass."

Charlie laughs harder. "Everything is all good here. Enjoy your days off."

Days? I know I'm supposed to be in tomorrow, but if Charlie says they don't need me, I won't push it. Considering I've spent a good portion of my actual day off on this wild goose chase, I deserve some time off.

Charlie ends the call and my fingers are quick to dial Bruce's number. It rings twice before he answers, but when he does, I can tell there is still a smirk on his face. "Hello?" he answers, trying to feign innocence.

I blow past his innocent demeanor, knowing he is up to something. "You're an ass," I whisper. "I mean, I love you, and the flowers, but you're an ass."

Bruce laughs and I fight to keep the scowl on my face. "But also romantic," he states.

I can't agree with his tactics, but I also cannot deny his claim. Bruce is one of the most romantic people I know. I secretly wonder if he enjoys the old romance movies I've forced him to watch countless times. "Yes," I agree, "but why?"

"Did you read the card?" he asks.

"Mmhmm."

"The whole card?"

The whole card? Was that one sentence not the only thing? I quickly turn the card in my hand, noticing the business logo in the middle of the card. The address is on the bottom along with Bruce's handwriting: I have some good news.

"What's your good news?" I ask unable to help myself. I know he's not going to tell me, he's going to force me to be patient. He's going to force me to play along with his little scavenger hunt, although I can't deny it's enthralling.

"Na uh," he says. "No cheating."

"Fine," I say, adding the address into my phone, getting the directions to my next stop. "I'll talk to you later."

"I love you."

"I love you too," I say. He hangs up the phone and I place the device on the dashboard, watching as my custom route comes up, ready to guide me through the streets of Gotham. I quickly start my car and drive off, wondering where in the world Bruce is sending me and what is waiting for me once I get there.

XXXXXX

Gotham Heights - Gracie CuppaJoe. 12:02.

The smell of coffee and fresh baked pastries fill the air as I step through the front door of the small corner shop. There are a few customers scattered around the room, each enjoying the last remnants of their caffeine concoctions and sweets. It brings a smile to my face when one of the baristas looks up from the register and offers me a large smile.

"Good morning," he says, wiping the counter with a rag, trying to clean before the lunch rush comes in for their caffeine fixes. "What can I get started for you?"

I contemplate whether I should indulge in another cup of coffee, having already had two this morning. However, the stress that both Bruce and Charlie have put me through should warrant another - maybe just a small. "She's with me."

I turn to face the owner of the voice. "What are you doing here?" I ask casually, smiling at the woman who offers me one of the small cups of coffee in her hands, before she turns to nod at the barista, who goes about his day.

Lois takes a sip from the remaining cup in her hand and flashes me a smile of her own, letting her shoulders shrug. "I was in the neighborhood," she says with a smirk. It is all I need to hear to know she's in cahoots with Bruce.

The two of us make our way to an empty table near the door, each taking a seat in a chair as we make ourselves comfortable. Lois slides her purse from her shoulder and places it on the chair beside her, eyeing me as she pulls out an envelope. "What did Bruce do?" I find myself asking, watching as she places the envelope on the table and slides it in front of me.

"I honestly don't know," she confesses. "But he helped me with that story about Lexcorp earlier this month, so I owed him a favor."

I nod, knowing full well that Bruce has been helping Clark with exclusive stories for years. When Lois and Clark started dating, he extended that courtesy to her as well. "How was Kansas?" I ask, attempting to make small talk as I grab the envelope from the table and peel it open.

Lois chuckles and whispers, "Interesting," before she takes another sip of her coffee, and ponders over the trip to meet Clark's mother for the first time. Having only met a few weeks earlier, Bruce and I were both excited and nervous to meet Clark's newest girlfriend. I wasn't sure how she would react to the fact that Clark still had dinner with his ex-girlfriend, nor was I sure how I would feel about seeing him move on, no matter how much of a hypocrite that made me. But after meeting Lois, I knew she would be a good friend, and after seeing the way she and Clark looked at each other, I knew they were perfect for each other.

"I'm just kidding," she says after a moment. "Martha was wonderful, and she spilled some secrets I'm sure Clark was not too fond of."

I chuckle and nod, knowing exactly what Lois speaks of. Martha and Alfred have much too much fun spilling secrets of Clark and Bruce's childhoods, and I know both Lois and I appreciate the embarrassing memories. "The tractor?" I ask, smiling when I remember the story Martha told Bruce and I the night of Clark's graduation.

Lois nods and finds it impossible to contain the laughter as she visualizes the event that occurred nearly two decades ago. She watches as I finish opening the envelope and pull out the card seeing Bruce's handwriting on the white piece of card stock.

I knew you would need something to calm your nerves so this one's on me. A few doors down is where you'll find your next clue.

I let out a small sigh and shake my head. How elaborate did Bruce make this scavenger hunt, and why was he doing it to begin with?

"The bookstore," Lois says, when I stuff the card back into the envelope. "Ask for Ryan."

I narrow my eyes at the woman but still give her a slight nod as I push my chair back and stand. "You want me to stay?" I ask when I realize it is rude of me to leave so suddenly.

Lois shakes her head, sips on her coffee, and pulls a small laptop from her purse. "No," she answers, "I'm perfectly content here." She waves her hand around the room and I watch as she begins to sway to the soft music that has been playing inside. "Much better than a stuffy office," she says, convincing me that she is okay with me leaving to go next door.

"Okay," is all I say, as I gather the still hot coffee in my hands. "Thank you." She nods and I see her lips tug into a radiant smile. My eyebrow raises and I know she knows more than she is letting on, but I don't bother to ask. Lois is a vault that no one can crack when it comes to confidential information. It is one of the reasons she has gotten so far in her career: people are willing to help her get information knowing she won't identify anyone who doesn't wish to be made public. With a small wave of my hand, I step out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk, following the path until I am standing on the stoop of the small bookstore.

My hand pulls the door open and I step inside. The walls are covered in vintage posters and artwork, signed and framed, showing the years that have gone into the decor of this place. There are rows and rows of bookshelves, lined to the brim with books. Novels, comics, and magazines fill the shelves and I wonder how a place this small place can hold what looks like hundreds of books. To the right is a small counter that houses two registers, a phone, and a computer to, what I assume, account for inventory and orders. All in all, it is a quaint little place, and I mentally remind myself to come and get lost in here on another day.

From behind one of the book shelves walks a man. He carries a box full of wrapped items in his arms, humming and bobbing his head along to the soft music that plays throughout the shop's speakers. He makes it to the front of the shop, still lost in the music, and places the box on the counter, before he turns to face me. His eyes widen when he realizes he is not alone and I can tell he is not used to customers this early.

"Hello!" he exclaims. He runs a hand through his hair and stumbles as he runs up to where I stand. "How can I help you?"

"Uh," I begin, trying to focus my attention on the small name tag that is pinned to his chest. The letters are unrecognizable, having been worn out from years of use, and it does me no good in identifying whether this is the man I need to speak to. "Are you Ryan?" I ask. "I was told I needed to speak to Ryan."

His lips tug into a confused frown. "Do you have an order?"

"I think so," I say unsure as I pull the card out of the envelope and hand it to him. Under Bruce's handwritten message lies a string of numbers. I was unsure of what they were, but when the shop owner turns and begins to type on the computer, I realize it is an order number.

"Ms. Prince," he says to himself, the frown disappearing from his face. He rummages through the box and pulls out a wrapped item. "Ah ha," is all he says as he hands me the item and the card. "I hope you like this," he says with a wink.

I thank him with a nod and pluck a business card from the counter, stuffing it into my coat pocket before I walk out the door, giving him a small wave as I push the door open and step outside. The bright glare from the sun distracts me momentarily and I have to squint until my eyes adjust. Sunshine in Gotham may have been a rarity, but when it came, it brought all it's glorious light. When my eyes finally adjust I take a look at the item in my hand, smiling at the fact that Bruce went through all this trouble to give me a little adventure while he was away.

The white wrapping is accompanied by a large red ribbon, tied to a beautiful bow on top, and I momentarily hate that I'm going to ruin the beautiful wrapping. Soon, however, the curiosity to know what Bruce has planned outweighs the want to preserve the wrapping, and I rip the package open. Inside there is an older publishing of the classic Shakespearean Romeo and Juliet.

The book is old but still in fantastic shape and as I move the book in my hands, I admire the intricate filigree on the cover. I open the cover and once again I see Bruce's handwriting.

Some people are worth dying for, but you, Diana, are absolutely worth living for.

Go to where we had our first kiss.

I smile as I pull the keys from my pocket and head to where my car is parked, hoping to find the answer to all this waiting at my destination.

XXXXX

Gotham Academy. 13:32.

Walking through the halls of Bruce and my alma mater brings back memories, some good, some bad, and I am overcome with emotions. My years here were definitely filled with both happiness and heartache, but if there was one person who had kept me sane throughout my time at Gotham Academy, it was Bruce. He was, is, my best friend. He was always there to listen to me when my mother was being overbearing and forbade me to do anything remotely fun. He was there for me when Steve broke my heart the summer after our Freshman year, and even though we had been friends since grade school, it was in these halls that I fell in love with Bruce.

I continue to walk through the halls. On a Saturday afternoon the once busy halls are nearly empty. Only a few students linger throughout the halls, trying to avoid the weekend detention they've been assigned or getting a jump on college prep exams. I don't envy them as those were some of the most stressful times in my life. One of the students looks up, their face having been buried in one an ACT prep book, and notices me as I continue down the hall. Her eyebrow raises as she tries to place my face and I chuckle lowly; being with Bruce, I have been splashed on the cover of multiple magazines, newspapers, and tabloid pages, the latter I am none too comfortable with, however I soon learned to get over the hurtful comments.

The student offers me a small wave when she realizes who I am and I respond with a small nod and a wave of my own, before I continue down the hall, turning the corner. I see my destination a few doors ahead and I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice the door to the room is the only one open, confirming that I am at the right place.

When I first got the clue in the book, my first thought was to go to the beach. That night, as we enjoyed a bonfire with half of the class, Bruce had kissed me. At first I thought it nothing more than a joke, as I was sure there was no way Bruce Wayne would be interested in the girl he had seen crying and shoving fistfuls of chocolate into her mouth more times than I would like to admit. However, as the night went on, I realized just how much I cared for him, and we spent the night together. I was nearly halfway to the beach when I realized the bonfire was not the first time Bruce and I had kissed, and I soon changed course to go back to our high school.

Our sophomore year of high school, we were forced to study and interpret pieces from Shakespear. Bruce and I were forced to work on Romeo and Juliet for the better part of the semester, which included a visual representation of the first meeting between the star crossed lovers - a visual that included Romeo and Juliet's first kiss. It was then that Bruce and I had kissed for the first time, and even though it had been nothing more than a platonic kiss between two people playing roles, sparks had flown, starting the attraction that only grew as time went on.

The room is dark as I step inside and I fumble with the switch on the wall, cursing at my nerves. I don't know why I'm anxious, but if this goes on for much longer, I'm going to fly to Star City myself and give Bruce a piece of my mind. The lights flicker on, illuminating the room, and I step fully inside. The room is the same as it was a decade earlier, albeit there are new desks that are lined throughout the room, and a new computer on the desk in front of the whiteboard, but the nostalgia is still there.

I make my way to the large desk and take notice of the small box in the center of the desk. As I get closer I can see that next to the box lays a card with my name on it. I open the card and see another message from Bruce.

I couldn't wait until the reunion.

Laying the card down onto the desk, my hand reaches for the box. It begins to shake as I pull it back. All the pieces start to fall into place and I suddenly realize what is happening. I open the box, letting out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding, and chuckle. Inside is a giant ring pop and I can't help but think back to when I jokingly proposed to Bruce back at the end of our sophomore year.

The sound of shuffling from behind makes me jump and I turn to face the person who has joined me in the room. Bruce's smile sends butterflies down my stomach and I can't help but reciprocate with a goofy smile of my own. I can't believe he's here, having flown all the way back without telling me he was going to be coming back early, but I am grateful. Seeing him standing there, a few feet across from me, suddenly makes this all real.

"Hi," he says, taking a few steps until he is able to reach out and take my hand in his. He places a kiss on the back of my hand and gives me a smirk as he glances at the box in my other hand.

My heart beats faster when I glance into his eyes; those beautiful steely blues make my knees weak. The thumping of my heart fills my ears and I say, "It was supposed to be blue," cringing when I hear the awkward statement.

Bruce laughs and plucks the box out of my hand, placing it on a nearby desk, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a smaller box. I let out a small gasp when I see the velvet box and although I know what is happening, I still can't believe it. "This one is," he says. He pulls his hand from mine and opens the box, displaying the ring that is inside, as he lowers himself down onto his right knee.

The ring inside the box is absolutely stunning. The white gold band is studded with blue sapphires, coloring half of the ring in a beautiful blue color that shines under the fluorescent lights in the room. The diamond in the center is a marquise cut, modest yet beautiful, and the two smaller diamonds that lay on either side of the center stone only accentuate it's charm.

"Diana," Bruce begins, forcing my attention from the ring in his hands to his face. His eyes are soft and he bites his lip nervously, trying to gather the right words to convey what he is feeling at this moment. Finally, he says, "I've loved you longer than I can remember. I've nearly lost you more times than I want to admit, but we've always found our way back to each other. I was a fool for waiting so long to tell you how I really felt, and if you'll have me, I'll spend my entire life showing you just how beautiful, how special, how wonderful you truly are."

His thumb caresses the back of my hand softly as he clears his throat, and he sends me a smile to let me know this is what he truly wants. The Bruce I knew as a kid would never have allowed himself to be vulnerable like this. He would have never let anyone break into the wall he had worked tirelessly to build. "I love you, Diana," he confesses. "Will you marry me?"

My arms are wrapped around Bruce before he can register what is happening, and he laughs as I find my voice, so clouded with raw emotion it is difficult for me to get the word out. "Yes," I whisper, trying to clear my throat as I wipe the tears from my cheek.

Bruce places a hand on my cheek, carefully caressing the skin as I repeat my answer, before his lips crash into mine. He continues to cradle my face as he kisses me once, twice, three times, each time more urgent than the last. Before we make the mistake of celebrating in one of the rooms of the high school, he pulls away, placing a kiss on my forehead before he plucks the ring from its spot in the box. He closes the small box and places it on the desk beside my ring pop and card, before he gently grabs my hand and slides the ring onto my finger.

The ring continues to shimmer under the lights and I can't help but look at it, so in awe. The ring is beautiful, balanced and adventurous, just like the relationship Bruce and I have. "I love you," I say when I finally find my voice.

Bruce nods, gives my lips another small kiss, and stands. "I love you too."

Bruce helps me up and we embrace in a strong hug. There are so many questions I have for him, like how things with Oliver went, and who else beside Lois and Charlie know about this, but for the moment I only want to revel in the bliss being here with Bruce brings. I will find out everything eventually, but for now, Bruce's arms are the only place I want to be. I love this man, I always have, and I cannot wait to finally marry my best friend.

@fyeahwonderbat

[johannstutt413]

The Doctor pounded twice on the door to Vulcan’s forge as he walked in. “You’ve got a customer!” He shouted above the din of whirring machines and hammer striking metal.

“Doctor?” She walked out, her usual attire replaced with a heavy-duty apron. “What do you need?”

“A weapon.”

A nod. “Of course. For who?”

“For me.” He reached into his pocket and unfolded a sheet of wrinkled paper. “I was going through my old files and found this. Apparently I used to carry one with me everywhere I went, but I lost it along with my memories. I was wondering if you would remake it for me.”

“I’ll let you know.” Vulcan took the paper and put it in a pocket of her own.

The Doctor glanced around the forge. “I heard your hammer going; I know it’s more of a tradition than an actual part of the craft nowadays, but I’m curious - what do you make when you do that?”

“You want to see for yourself?” She walked back towards the anvil and furnace, and he followed her. “Put on your visor. Sparks’ll be flying.”

“Right.” He made sure his usual protections were in place, and he watched with great interest as she resumed the piece she’d been working on. It was surprisingly delicate; considering her usual work, he’d expected something utilitarian, but this was art, pure and simple. Several straight beams were brought together to create something like a tower, and as she added details, the Doctor realized what she was creating with a smile.

 When it was finally done - a multi-hour process the Doctor had arrived in the middle of - and cooling, Vulcan took off her gloves and face protection and addressed her audience. “Satisfied?”

“It’s fantastic,” he replied, “but do you always make Rhodes Island emblems?”

“No - usually, I make ornamental weapons or solid attachments, but the company anniversary party will be happening soon, and I don’t plan on attending in person.”

The Doctor frowned. “You aren’t?”

“The Penguin team needs their gear worked on, as does the Lungmen squad, and I want to have your weapon done before too long.” She shrugged. “Not a good time for downtime.”

“Damn...Weapon maintenance is crucial, but missing out on the anniversary is...I’d wanted to take you as my date, but-”

Vulcan.exe stopped responding. “What?”

“Your commitment is incredible, your craftsmanship is impeccable, and your record, as well as that of almost every Operator here, is to your credit. We don’t stop to appreciate you often enough, in my opinion.” He sighed. “But, if you’re busy, I suppose it can’t be helped-”

“When do you want this weapon of yours finished?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “I’d like to be able to start training with it again as soon as possible, but if you have other work that needs to be done-”

“I’ll have you your weapon before you come to get me for the party.”

“You mean you’ll come to the celebration after all?” He smiled. “What changed?”

Despite all the time spent around hot metal, Vulcan wasn’t incapable of blushing. “I...want you to know I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll leave you to it - have some work of my own to get done, after all. I’ll see you in a few days, then? If you get a chance, you know where to find me.”

“Right...Hey.” As he left, she called out to him. “Formal or casual?”

The Doctor looked back over his shoulder and smiled warmly. “Whichever you can dance best in.”

-

Vulcan spend the next not-quite week working on the Doctor’s weapon; it was a tricky thing, relying on a series of moving parts that had to be crafted with absolutely hair-pulling levels of precision to ensure the weapon’s function didn’t degrade over time, and anyone less enthused with the task would quit while they were ahead. For her, however, this wasn’t just a project her boss had given her - this was a commission from someone who appreciated her work, who appreciated...her, as difficult to comprehend as that was, and besides, she was always looking for new ways to challenge herself. If only he’d asked her to design something for him herself…

The Doctor, as promised, was at her forge about two hours before the party; he’d wanted to give her time to show off her work and not have her feel rushed. Honestly, it had been a work of willpower to not visit her sooner, but seeing his gift before it was completed seemed wrong somehow, so he’d bided his time. Now was the moment of truth.

“Vulcan?” He knocked on the door; the machines weren’t on, so there was no need to be as loud as before. “Are you back there?”

“One minute, Doctor!” She called from somewhere deeper in the space. There was a bathroom behind all this, and a little farther back was the closet she called her bedroom.

The Doctor found a place to sit and made himself comfortable; a few minutes later, and Vulcan emerged from her corner...and he found himself in awe. “Wow.”

“I clean up nicely?” The hesitant smile on her face only amplified the effect of seeing her in a black dress that seemed to be woven from carbon-fiber. “I finished your weapon, like I promised.”

“Two gifts in one evening. Tonight’s already looking to be amazing.”

She picked up something from a hidden part of the forge and walked over to him; in her hand was what looked like for all intents and purposes a walking stick with a curved handle. “The blade comes out of the bottom when you press this.”

“Amazing...I had every confidence in you, and you still exceeded my expectations.” He accepted in from her as she held out her hands, and the weight balance was exquisite. “It feels like it was made for my hands and mine alone.”

“It was, Doctor.” Vulcan smiled at her matter-of-fact response.

He blushed. “Right, I guess it was...I should take this up to my room before we go to the party.”

“I’ll go with you,” she offered, “if you don’t mind.”

“No, feel free, but...why?”

They were stepping out into the hall at this point, and both checked to see if it was empty before Vulcan continued. “I was thinking of other ways I could thank you for, well...being you.”

“I would be me even if the world hated me,” the Doctor shrugged.

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but that wouldn’t change how you make me feel. To think that someone values what I do the way you do...I wonder if I’ve found my soulmate.”

At this point, there were tomatoes less vibrantly red than the Doctor. “I didn’t realize how powerful a thank-you could be.”

“It’s a little more than a thank-you, Doctor.”

“True...” He took a steadying breath. “How serious were you about me being your soulmate?”

Vulcan’s smile grew. “How seriously are you thinking about it?”

“Enough to be willing to give it a shot. We can call tonight our first date.”

“I like the sound of that...” She nodded, one of her hands brushing against his. “To our first date.”

The Doctor took hold of the errant hand, already picturing their potential future in his mind. “The first of many.”

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

on the verge of realization

Bumbleby Week Day 5 - Beacon Days

She doesn’t question it, the sense of familiarity, of unconditional safety, that comes with Yang’s presence, even though they’ve known each other for less than half a year, even though Blake’s promised herself she’d keep her distance this time, she’d be careful, lest she repeats past mistakes.

Team RWBY is having an early morning training session, and Blake finds herself distracted.

It’s very early - a couple hours before dawn - and quite chilly outside. The autumnal wind has a cruel bite to it, and Blake hugs her sweater, wishing she was wearing something a little warmer than her workout shorts. Around her, Beacon Academy is still and quiet. Most students are probably sound asleep in their dorm rooms, and Blake really misses her bed.

Beside her, Weiss stands straight, unhappy, clad in skintight leggings and a long-sleeved white workout shirt. “Where are they?” she grumbles, heel stomping petulantly against the ground.

Ruby asked them to meet in the central courtyard for an early training session - the Vytal Tournament starts tomorrow, and she wants the team to be in top shape - but neither her nor Yang have arrived yet. They were gone by the time Blake and Weiss left the dorm room, presumably to get something to eat.

“I swear, if this is some kind of prank….” Weiss starts. She’s interrupted by a flurry of rose petals, and the screeching sound of a fast-moving body coming to an abrupt halt.

“Morning!” Ruby shouts, appearing between them with the energy of someone who’s already consumed an unnecessary amount of sugar.

Blake winces at the volume. “Hey, Ruby. Where’s Yang?”

“Right here.” A familiar arm curls around her shoulders, and her partner steps next to her, drawing her in a side hug. Yang smells like coffee, and she feels warm against Blake, and for a minute Blake is overwhelmed with the desire to close her eyes and fall back to sleep.

(She doesn’t question it, the sense of familiarity, of unconditional safety, that comes with Yang’s presence, even though they’ve known each other for less than half a year, even though Blake’s promised herself she’d keep her distance this time, she’d be careful, lest she repeats past mistakes.)

“Alright team! Let’s do this!” Ruby says, cheerful as always, punctuating her words with a light punch to Weiss’s shoulder, which earns her a glare and a shove.

Right. Blake shakes herself out of her morning haze, rolling her neck. Yang lets her go, and they stand side by side listening to Ruby’s instructions.

Today’s program is nothing complex: some sparring, some stretching, some strength and speed exercises. And to start it all, an hour-long run throughout the school grounds. Weiss groans at that prospect, but Blake doesn’t mind. She likes running - how her lungs burn and her legs ache and how it sharpens her thoughts, helping her focus on the moment, and nothing else. After a few minutes of warm-up, Ruby takes the lead, and Weiss follows her, displeased but disciplined. Blake and Yang bring up the rear.

It’s quiet. Peaceful. The four of them are alone, apart from a few students hurrying towards the library, and a second-year team engaged in semblance practice in the West courtyard.

Blake and Yang don’t talk while they run, so the only sounds are the soft thump of their feet against the grass, and the regular rhythm of their breathing. From time to time, they knock elbows, or bump shoulders, and Yang grins at her. Every time, Blake smiles back.

(And that’s another thing she won’t question: the warmth filling her chest when Yang looks at her, like sunlight on her skin ; how easily they fall into pace with one another, like the tide and the moon. No, Blake won’t question it, and she won’t let herself dig too deep into the recesses of her heart. After all, this is only their first year. She has all the time in the world to figure it out.)

The sun rises, timid and pale, as they finish their run. Weiss lets herself fall on a stone bench - she’s breathing hard and fast, strands of white hair sticking to her temples. Sweat drips down Blake’s back, soaking her shirt, and she’s a little out of breath, but otherwise fine. Ruby smiles wide, and gives them all congratulatory high-fives.

“Yay, team RWBY! We’re gonna kick ass in the tournament!”

Blake smiles back, relishing in the sense of pride surging through her, while Yang cheerfully claps Weiss on the shoulder. She’s still not quite used to feeling accomplished after a training exercise. When Adam was her mentor, nothing was ever good enough. She was never good enough. If she closes her eyes, she can still hear his voice, disappointed and angry, she can still see the downward curve of his mouth, the dismissive snap of his fingers. But Ruby is nothing like him, Beacon is nothing like the White Fang, and sometimes it dawns on her: how different her life is, here, with these people. How much happier she is.

“Here,” Yang says, handing her a bottle of water.

“Thanks.”

As she drinks, she can’t help wondering how much of her newfound happiness she owes to Yang. She cherishes her bond with Ruby and Weiss, of course - and Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren, Nora, Sun, Neptune, Velvet… she’s met so many new friends, in so little time. But Yang is… well, she’s her partner, right? So that makes her different. Not more important, necessarily, just… different.

(She keeps feeling like she’s on the verge of a realization, these days, like something crucial is hovering at the edge of her awareness, and all it would take is the slightest push for her to grasp it.)

Blake swallows her last gulp of water, lost in thoughts, glancing at Yang absent-mindedly, and suddenly finds herself staring. Yang is busy wiping her face with the front of her tank top, and Blake can’t look away from the hard, flat plane of her lower stomach, the way her bare skin glistens with sweat, the sharp jut of her hipbones. She swallows again, hard. Her heartbeat quickens, though she’s no longer running, and when Yang looks up and notices her watching, Blake’s cheeks grow so hot she instinctively presses the cold bottle against her skin, in an attempt to cool off.

“You okay there, Belladonna?” Yang says, with a small knowing smirk that does nothing to help Blake’s flustered state.

“Fine,” she manages. The word comes out annoyingly strangled and Weiss narrows her eyes, frowning with something close to irritation, though by now Blake’s learned it usually covers genuine care.

“You do look weird. Are you coming down with something? Please stay away from me, I can’t afford to be sick this semester.”

“Guys. I’m fine.” This time Blake’s voice sounds firm, and Weiss visibly relents. Yang must take pity on her as well, because she doesn’t say anything else, instead pulling her hair up in a messy bun. Blake decidedly avoids looking at Yang’s arms. She’s embarrassed herself enough as it is.

Ruby claps her hands, bringing them back to the task. “Okay guys, rest is over. Next is hand-to-hand combat. Yang, you’re in charge, since you’re the best at it!”

Yang makes a fist, and slams it forcefully against the palm of her other hand. Weiss rolls her eyes at the display but gets up nonetheless, stretching her arms high above her head. “At least don’t blast your terrible pop music this time, Yang. Let us have peace and quiet while we suffer.”

“Whatever. You can pretend you hate my taste in music all you want, Ice Queen, but you’re the one I caught singing in the shower to…”

“Are we training or having a chat?” Weiss cuts her off, a murderous glint in her eyes, ears a little pink. Blake and Ruby exchange an amused glance, and Yang snorts, but lets it go.

They start with some stretching, then Yang has them repeating precise series of jabs and punches and kicks. The sun is now high in the sky, and it’s a beautiful, clear morning. They’ve chosen the isolated corner of a remote courtyard, far from the main part of campus, so no one bothers them. Which is for the best: unarmed hand-to-hand combat isn’t really Blake’s thing, and she needs all her concentration to mimic Yang’s movements. She’s doing better than Ruby and Weiss, but still, Yang often has to correct her stance, light hands pressing on her hips to get her to turn, or moving her arms to a different position.

It’s casual, practical, professional even, Blake knows it, and yet. And yet. She could swear every touch from Yang leaves a trace on her skin, a handprint, and her nerves flare like kindling catching fire. She’s just not used to being touched like that, Blake reasons, ignoring the craving in the bottom of her stomach. So what, if she’s starved for the kind of easy, affectionate closeness that comes with Yang’s friendship? It’s been a while, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

The unexpected sting on the back of her thigh, just below her ass, makes her jump. Yang just gave her a smack, she realizes belatedly, not hard enough to really hurt, but certainly enough to get her attention. “Focus,” she scolds Blake, not unkindly. The hint of playful warning in her tone is somehow as distracting as her touch, and it takes all of Blake’s self-control to push down the sudden wave of vague yearning, teeth clenched.

Yang is right, she needs to focus, this is ridiculous. The tournament is tomorrow. She exhales through her nose, inhales deeply, and starts over.

“Great job,” Yang praises them eventually, when she deems that the practice has gone for long enough. “Now, let’s do some sparring. Partner up! The lightweights together,” she adds, pointing at Weiss and Ruby, who both hilariously make the exact same grumpy face, before turning towards Blake. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“You don’t have to,” Blake replies, mildly offended, before she can think better of it. “I can hold my own.”

Yang laughs. “Oh, we’re feeling confident today, huh? Alright. Belladonna. Let’s see what you got.”

Weiss sniggers at Blake, but promptly cuts it out when Ruby tackles her to the ground. “What the hell, Ruby?” she yelps. “Yang didn’t give us the signal!”

“In a real combat situation, nobody will be there to give you the green light,” Yang ponders, sagely, in a remarkable impression of Professor Port. “You always have to be ready to react!”

“I have been in real combat situations, thanks!” Weiss spits out, trying to no avail to dislodge Ruby from her back.

Blake bites the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from laughing at theirs antics and, seeing Yang distracted, takes a chance. She swings her left leg low, hoping to catch Yang’s ankles and make her fall. Yang jumps out of the way before Blake can even touch her, and grins, cocky.

“Nice try.”

Blake leaps, changing tactics, kicking high at Yang’s head with her right leg this time. Yang deflects the hit with a steady arm, and sends a curved left hook Blake’s way. Her knuckles graze Blake’s shoulder but she manages to dodge the brunt of it.

“Good,” Yang says. She raises both fists protectively in front of her face, and motions for Blake to come at her. “Try again.”

So Blake does. She throws kicks and punches, elbows and knees, and a few connect with Yang, but most of Blake’s efforts she evades, easily. It’s mesmerizing, watching Yang fight and turn and deflect and attack, feet light on the ground. Her body moves almost effortlessly, each of her hits powerful and precise. Blake’s eyes follow the ripple of muscles underneath Yang’s skin, fascinated by the strength and the control, and the beauty of it. Of her.

This time when Yang smacks her again, it’s right across Blake’s ass, and her hand lands much harder. Blake can’t help a little gasp, mouth opening in shock. It stings, but the sensation sends unexpected sparks down her lower stomach, and Blake really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“You’re still not focusing,” Yang says, raising an eyebrow, as if daring Blake to protest. Blake closes her mouth, cheeks burning. What is up with her today? She’s never been so distracted before. (She’s never been so distracted by Yang.) There’s something tugging, pulling, inside her chest, like a buried truth trying to burst through, but Blake’s too afraid to let it out. It’s dangerous, she knows, from experience, to look too closely at one’s heart.

Yang’s eyes soften, and she drops her guard, looking at Blake with caution. “Are you doing okay?” She takes a step forward, and hesitates, before placing her hand on Blake’s shoulder, very gently. “Are you stressed out about the tournament? Is something else on your mind? You can talk to me, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Blake murmurs. There’s that feeling again, like she’s missing something important, something she should know. She grabs Yang’s hand in her own, and squeezes her fingers. “Thank you.”

Yang’s thumb brushes the back of her hand, tracing light circles on her skin. “What’s going on?” she asks, her voice low and serious. Then she smiles, lightening the mood. “Why are you being such a handful, Belladonna?”

Blake huffs, smiling despite herself. “I have no idea. Maybe you’re right, and I’m just anxious about the tournament tomorrow? I’m not sure. Sorry I’m being the worst partner,” she adds with a small apologetic shrug.

Yang shakes her head, and advances on her so fast there’s nothing Blake can do before she’s engulfed in Yang’s arms. It reminds her of an empty classroom, and another hug that took her by surprise. Sighing, she rests her hands around Yang’s strong back, and presses her forehead against Yang’s shoulder. Yang smells like sweat now, and coffee, still, underneath, and the laundry detergent they use at Beacon. Familiar and safe, inexplicably so.

“You could never be the worst partner, Blake,” Yang murmurs in her hair. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me think that.”

Blake nods, and tightens her hold around Yang’s waist, and, like a fool, believes her.

[justimajin]

Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 14⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (4.5k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: friends to lovers au 

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

⇢ Will update every Tuesday (until finished) - next update

Friendship is a word you associate with many individuals working inside your hospital, from how you came to know Jimin and Yoongi from rigorous study sessions in college to new frequent interactions you’ve had with recently hired interns. It’s a word that was necessary to establish at work particularly for numerous reasons, as working inside a hospital without the support of a solid team meant that nothing could be accomplished.

It’s a word that you would had never once considered to associate with him, simply due to how long you had spent avoiding said man when every encounter had your blood boiling until a vessel would pop and you would begin to wonder if you were going to suffer from blood pressure issues in the future. It would never fail to caste you upon one very defined characteristic.

You and Dr. Kim cannot get along.

But it seems that finally this mentality has been broken down. Shredded to mere pieces as the doctor continues to express more of himself to you and instead of feeling like you can barely stand to have a conversation with him in the same room, work surprisingly does take a better turn.

“Here.” 

He simply stares at the paper encased inside your hand before looking up at you with a raised brow, “You dropped it.” You lean over to place it carefully on top of the file he was carrying around with him.

“Thank you.” He slips it right in, “I’ll take that you filed your own report on the patient as well.”

You nod, walking with him, “I saw the one you had left this morning in my office and our notes were similar.” You move forward to open the door for him because of his occupied hands, “I filed it after that.”

“That’s good,” He arrives at his office, stopping for a moment, “As long as everything goes according to plan, they can be discharged next week.” You both share a knowing glance because of how keen you were on monitoring your patients and you’re glad on the inside that he still informed you despite you already assuming.

“I’ll see you around Dr. L/N.” He sends you a small smile and you return it to which he pushes the door to go inside. You promptly start walking back so that you can go through your wards and check up on the various patients lined up for your attention.

An arm swings around you and you let out a loud sigh from already knowing who the particular owner was. After all, his obvious giggles were a dead giveaway. “Y/N~” He teases and you can identify right away that he was on to something.

“What do you want Dr. Park?”

He pouts at the title but still presses forward, “Someone is getting cozy with Dr. Kim.”

You scrunch up your nose with his use of words, “Cozy?” You scoff, “Jimin, we’re friends.” Since he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon, you had ended up dragging him to your office when you fish around in your pocket for your keys.

“FRIENDS?!” A loud squeal echoes out of his mouth and you glare at him right away when his piping tone can disrupt others, “Sorry!” He squeaks out, “But this is amazing Y/N, I can’t believe you’re friends!”

The door to your office opens, causes your intern to accidentally eavesdrop on the conversation, “Dr. L/N is friends with Dr. Kim now?”

Jimin excitedly nods and hurriedly joins you inside, “I saw them talking earlier without trying to kill each other!”

“Woahh,” Jin turns in his chair, looking at you with bewilderment as you sit down in your chair, “I’m impressed Y/N.”

The commotion isn’t something you are fond with however. The answer is indeed yes – you and Dr. Kim are remarkable individuals on your own and working together strengths this, but the amount of disruption it causes with those among you is what you’re not appreciative of.

It is great that you’re friends now, but a professional environment must be maintained within the walls of the hospital. “It isn’t a big deal.” You shrug.

“But it is! I’ve been here for a really long time and I’ve never seen you talk to each other properly without fighting!” Jimin rambles, jumping up and down as if he had downed tons of sugar.

Jin nods, “I agree, you and Dr. Kim are actually having normal conversations.”

A loud sigh comes out of you. They were right in that sense but this was spinning into something bigger and you weren’t ready for it to become such a huge thing, “Dr. Park doesn’t your intern need you?” Jin had to be in there so he could work with you, but Jimin was the one provoking the whole situation.

Jimin’s eyes widen before he’s sent off in a frenzy, “Jungkookie! I forgot!”

The whole ordeal causes you to laugh and Jin joins in as well, shaking his head as he mumbles, “Hired first, yeah right.”

“I’m not too sure on how you will take the news, but it is what it is…” A weary sigh escapes from the drained doctor in front of you when he sheepishly smiles. It had taken you by surprise when Namjoon had called you and Dr. Kim specifically into his office so early in the morning. You were occupied with doing your wards and the latter had been filing some papers when the head doctor abruptly stumbled in.

“I’m leaving.” Your jaw drops down instantly and Namjoon raises his hands before you could question him, “Temporarily, I requested some time off.”

Another sigh comes out of him and you can notice the handful of clear signals emitting off of him from the way his words are only formed in exhausted stretched syllables. More so you can see how much of a mess his entire office is; piles of papers stacked in different sections all over the room and his desk appearing as if a tornado had passed by.

Yet understanding this was only a part of it, for Namjoon leaving meant a crucial position in your team would be missing.

Picking up on your thought instantly, he starts to clarify what is about to come, “I want both of you to take over.”

It feels like the air has been knocked out of you when the pure shock crosses your face and leaves you speechless. All you can see is huge chunk of responsibility being bestowed upon you and your mind races at how someone like you could possibly take over.

Being the head doctor of the hospital was certainty the toughest job one could have. In addition to ensuring that you fulfill all of the duties a doctor has, you need to make sure that the hospital functions in the correct way, whether that was from assigning doctor to their areas of strength and assessing your team accordingly to handling external influences such as management of the hospital.

Leadership is key, otherwise the hospital would run on a commotion of chaos. You have to be a kind, considerate doctor combined with the tactics of an administrator.

You settle onto the concept of the two of you handling the hospital and your eyes briefly flicker over to Dr. Kim to see his reaction. The news has taken its surprise on him but he appears to be much more composed and reassured with the matter.

“I know it’s a lot…” Namjoon attempts to explain, clearly seeing your distress, “But I believe this is something I can entrust to the both of you.” He turns to you this time, “And its only for two weeks because that is how long they’re willing to give me.”

“We won’t let you down.” Dr. Kim speaks up, confidence filled inside his voice. You are still contemplating, unsure if these two weeks were going to pass by fine or be ultimate hell. “Dr. L/N and I can handle it.”

At the mention of your name, he turns and meets your eyes as a way to tell you that this is something you can do. The encouragement is helpful, dissolving some of the uncertainty when you know it will be a challenge, but have you ever strayed away from a difficult task?

“We can,” You turn to Namjoon, sitting up straighter now, “Enjoy your time off, you don’t need to worry.”

The corners of his mouth curl up with your confirmation and you believe that this won’t be as disastrous as you were expecting it to be. If Namjoon had come to you with this news alone then you would have been even more unsure about it, however this is a role you will be sharing with Dr. Kim. You can’t put your finger as to why specifically, but you expect that this extra surge of confidence coming from you partially emerges from how you were able to become friends with him and can envision you two working to the highest standards.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

It’s an absolute catastrophe. You’ve overtaken Namjoon’s office alongside Dr. Kim but there hasn’t been a single second when either of you was able to sit down in peace during the entire day. The phone is constantly ringing making you have the urge to permanently stitch it onto yourself and the conversations were always demanding, forcibly questioning you on deadlines on managerial decisions that you have yet to complete. With one hand attempting to deal with that, the other one is furiously writing down the plans you have to go through and leaving notes for Namjoon to look at once he arrives back.

“Dr. L/N, we haven’t completed our rounds yet.” The exasperated voice from the corner of the room informs you and you turn around in your chair to see Dr. Kim organizing the numerous documents that needed to be signed. He’s also in the same horrible shape you are in – hair tousled and sweat plastering to his forehead – but he doesn’t once complain through the extreme stress.

However, his point is entirely valid. You’ve both have been stuck inside the office for hours and time was starting to dip into the afternoon, yet none of your daily responsibilities were touched upon.

You place the phone on your shoulder, leaning to look over at him, “Should we re-assign someone to our wards?” Your time is limited and the work is too much. There was no possible way you could leave for so long anytime soon.

Dr. Kim is occupied with filing but he still answers you, “Dr. Park and Dr. Min have their own wards to attend to, what about the interns?”

“The interns?”

“Why not?” He glances over at you, “It’s a learning opportunity.”

“But for two weeks…?” You don’t want to question there capabilities, but it is a huge task to overtake.

“They can ask questions if something confuses them. We’ll just answer them on breaks.”

“Do you honestly think we’re going to get a break?”

“Technically by law we should be allowed to.” He takes the finished file and sets it aside, dusting his hands, “And I won’t hesitate to sue.” A mischievous glint shines in his eyes and you laugh, shaking your head at the idea. It makes you wonder why it took becoming friends with him to discover Dr. Kim’s humorous side, but its something you don’t regret at all when you’re trapped within the confines of Namjoon’s office for hours.  

“Alright alright, I’ll let them know. Just don’t go around suing anyone.” You roll your eyes and he playfully shrugs. Once you get up, your gaze suddenly fixes on the phone you had put on hold but Dr. Kim takes it out of your hand.

He gestures over to the door, “Go talk to them first. I’ll handle this.” He pushes down on the hold button before he continues the conversation as you head out. His voice fades out once the door closes and you are equipped with a clipboard alongside a new plan to get this hospital running again.

You are racing down the hallway, eager to get everything organized so that all areas of the hospital could be covered. Passing by your own and Dr. Kim’s ward, you wince when you see the abundance of patients needed to be checked upon. You consider for a brief moment if you should set your clipboard down and quickly assist them, but the numbers keep growing by each minute and you already know it was going to be too much for you.

So you need to grab someone that knows your ward well.

“Jin?” You pop by your own office, strangely missing the decreased work that you used to once have when the intern glances up to see you. He smiles and you usher him outside.

“I’m assigning you to look over my ward until Namjoon gets back.” You hand him the set of notes you had constructed on what he needed to pay attention to. “You have more than enough experience so I feel like you would be fine.”

“Assigning me? But why Dr. L/N?” He looks down at the notes confused.

“Because-“ Hold on.

Did you and Dr. Kim even remember to inform anyone?!

You shut your eyes in sheer frustration, well aware that it should have been the first thing on your checklist to do but the amount of work you had to do get in the way of that. “Namjoon is currently on leave so Dr. Kim and I are handling his work, that’s why I need you to take over my ward.”

He nods, giving you a thumbs up. You smile, quickly heading out to the next person.

“Dr. L/N!” A voice calls out. 

“Dr. Kim?” He doesn’t answer you, attempting to catch his breath from running.

“Assign two interns to my ward.” He pauses, now being able to breathe, “I got a notice that more patients have been transferred over to that ward.”

Now you just want to yell out from the stress increasing. Not only do you not have the time to go through your patients, you have more of them to look over.

“I was going to go inform Chaeyoung and Yoongi about this, can you go talk to Dr. Park and his intern?” He nods and you instantly split apart, attempting to get everything done faster together.

A stern knock thuds against the door as the doctor patiently waits for the other side to respond with his arms crossed. He hears some trashing in the background, before the door is yanked wide open.

“Y/N~” The man boasts, “I knew you would come to see me, I-“

The doctor continues to stand there, giving the speechless man an unamused look when he begins to stammer, “D-Dr. Kim…”

“Is Jungkook in here?” He says with a sigh, inviting himself inside. The doe-eyed boy looks up from his desk in curiosity and a giant smile washes over him at the sight.

“Dr. Kim!” He races over to stand next to him and the doctor fondly pats him on the head, “What brings you here?”

“Dr. L/N and I have taken over Namjoon’s position temporarily and new patients have arrived at the hospital. I need you to take over my ward with my intern.” Jungkook nods with a determined pout and Dr. Kim smiles.

“I’ll get to it!” Jungkook exits the office, quickly following the instructions. His doctor counterpart however, is still baffled at the warm display Dr. Kim had with his own intern.

“You can…” He whispers, placing a dramatic hand on his chest, “You can smile?”

Dr. Kim raises a brow, wondering what the doctor was trying to convey. But Jimin continues, “You smiled,” He points to him, “A-And Jungkook isn’t scared of you.”

The doctor has no clue what to retort back to that and it dawns onto him that it was simply Dr. Park’s nature to act in such a way; trying to coax out a reaction. “Didn’t you become friends with Y/N?”

At that the doctor’s eyes flash and Jimin mischievously smiles, knowing he had grasped on something important.

“How…acquainted are you with Dr. L/N again?”

Jimin chuckles at the inquiry, “Really well, we’ve known each other since our college times.”

It’s now that the doctor’s interest has hit its peak, completely intrigued. “Interesting, let me know sometime of how college was like here for the two of you.”

And with that he leaves, causing Jimin to laugh at how obvious the doctor could unintentionally be.

You do a quick survey around and let out a breath of relief when all wards have been secured. The prospect of not having to worry any longer and just working on your own job is glorifying so you begin to make your way back to the office.

“Dr. L/N!” A familiar voice shouts out and the young intern rushes over to you. You’re already impressed with how he was managing Dr. Kim’s ward despite being hired for a short period of time. “A patient has been having severe stomach aches and I wasn’t sure what to do…”

“Did you check their diet?” You’re already following him back to the ward when he nods.

“It’s a liquid diet that hasn’t been changed recently.”

You hum, eyes tracing over their paperwork when you don’t see any harmful medications prescribed. Furthermore, the patient had been diagnosed with a lung condition. “You can prescribe some stomach relief medicine.” You turn to him, attempting to clarify, “Sometimes being on a liquid diet isn’t best suited for the body and can become too taxing on the stomach, so it isn’t a concern for their specific condition.”

Jungkook beams up, nodding, “That’s what I thought! I just wanted to ask in case.”

You wave him off, “I rather you ask me first if you’re unsure.” You’re about to leave so he can resume solving the matter on his own, but his voice grabs your attention.

“Dr. L/N!”

“Yes?”

“I-I...uh,” He stammers out, looking a bit conflicted with himself, “D-Dr. Kim…” He suddenly mutters out and you step closer to him, confused at the doctor’s mention.

“What is it Jungkook?” You encourage and his eyes dart around frantically.

“D-Dr. Kim wanted to ask you something important!” He lets out and you tilt your head.

“Important? What was important to tell me?” You narrow your gaze and Jungkook throws his arms into the air.

“I-I don’t remember anymore, bye Dr. L/N!” He rushes back to his patient and you’re left confused with the whole ordeal but shrug it off, not wanting to ponder on it for long.

You needed to get back to work anyways.

You wonder how it was even humane for Dr. Kim and you to be working in such stressful conditions continuously for hours, yet you come into term that this was exactly Namjoon’s job – ensuring the hospital functioned on all floors and that no discrepancies were made.

You make a huge mental note to thank Namjoon once he gets back.

In the midst of you furiously scribbling down multiple protocols, you don’t hear the door slowly shutting and the low footsteps that follow. It’s only until the warm caffeinated drink hits your table that you flinch, coming eye to eye with your new partner.

He walks away, hand covering his own mug when he goes into his side of the room and starts working again. You greatly appreciate the gesture, for you were going to be working late throughout the night guaranteed and desperately needed something to keep the neural connections in your brain fully functioning.

However, the curiosity is there when you eye Dr. Kim. “What are you drinking?”

Coffee and alcohol are certainly two drinks that you could bet your own money on for the doctor’s preference, but both these assumptions are flawed when he expressed his own dislike. Now you do wonder, ...what does Dr. Kim even like?

He doesn’t answer you, staring at his mug and frowning. After a pause, he turns to you with a suspicious glance. “Don’t tell anyone.” He sternly directs and now you’re even more curious from him not wanting the information to be disclosed.

You nod and with a sigh, he tells you, “H-Hot chocolate.” He quickly turns around and you are way past the line of no return when the laughter slips out from you.

“You drink hot chocolate?” The amusement isn’t only in the fact that now you do know, but also how you’ve recognized that he would be nowhere near the coffee machine while the rest of the members were routinely around it. 

“Is it really that hard to believe?” He raises a brow, annoyance laced in his voice.

You cover your mouth, trying to calm your own laughter, “Sorry.” A small chuckles escapes through, “It just doesn’t match up to your image.”

He sets his mug down, walking towards you with crossed arms and tilting his head, “My image…?”  

“Tell Jimin you like hot chocolate and then watch his reaction.” You sarcastically retort but he frowns.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Dr. Park is…interesting.” A look of repulsion surfaces on him, “It is strange that he was hired first.”

“Well…” You debate with yourself, knowing that Jimin could be too much at times but he had considerable redeeming qualities. None the less, it was the solid reason why you chose to be friends with him. “He’s not too bad. He did mention that the two of you are the same age…?”

You narrow your eyes, not sure if that was true or not.

He nods, “We are. He’s actually two months older than me.”

“What?” You didn’t want to laugh but the sole fact that Dr. Kim was actually younger than your loud, wild friend is just absurd.

“You should do that more often.”

You abruptly stop, “What?”

“Laugh.”

“You want to see me laugh more often Dr. Kim?” You mimic the same words he had once used with you in a playful tone.

He doesn’t respond to you however, he simply smiles in return.

Although it isn’t remotely possible, you feel as if your eyeballs are prepared to melt off into small puddles on your desk. There are multiple mugs lying around that are emptied from the caffeinated liquid and you find yourself staring at the paper before you for far too long when the words don’t seem to make any sense the longer you stare.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to open them again proves to be futile as you get the same response of the exhausted motors of your brain not wanting to function.

Glancing upwards at the clock, the red letters blare out that it was one in the morning and your shoulders slump down.  

Maybe you just call it a day….sleep sounds really nice right now….

“Dr. Kim?”

He hums, glancing over at you with drowsy eyes. “Should we head out now? It’s gotten late.” You point over to the clock and he nods, beginning to slowly gather his belongings.

The office door is shut with a click and you couldn’t be even happier to finally go home for some very much needed rest. “Do you need a ride?” You turn to face Dr. Kim and contemplate for a moment, but eventually oblige. At this point, you’re so used to him offering to drop you off that the answer comes out naturally without a lot of thinking to be involved.

The car ride home isn’t laced with any awkward or nervous interactions anymore when conversations between you two now flow comfortably. You don’t feel as if you’re sitting with Dr. Kim, a stern cold doctor that you wanted nothing to do with but instead a different Dr. Kim, your working partner and friend of yours that you could actually depend on.

It even amuses you on the inside when your conversation this time heads towards a different direction, when said doctor seems focused on knowing more about his fellow co-workers. “Isn’t he frustrating to work with?” He retorts, still fixated on a certain loud doctor, “I wonder how Jungkook does it.” He whispers and you smile.

“Jimin is really not that bad, just keep him entertained for a while and he settles down.” You try not to laugh at how you’re describing a manual for him, “I don’t think it’ll be difficult for him to get along with you.”

“Are you so sure about that Dr. L/N? He seems to be scared of me.”

“Everyone is scared of you.” You retort but he glances at you with a frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Well aside from Namjoon, and now me and Jungkook, you don’t really talk to anyone else.” He hums, acknowledging what you’re saying. “Namjoon is always nice so that’s not even a problem. Jungkook used to be scared but again, not a problem. I’m not sure how Yoongi sees you, but I guess it’s not in a bad way. Jin hugged you,“ You shake your head at that, “and Chaeyoung still works well with you. So that really just leaves Jimin still being scared of you.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” You point to yourself and he nods.

“Were you ever scared of me?”

You pause, “I wasn’t…scared per say,” You try to explain, “as much as I was annoyed.”

“Annoyed?”

“You’ve seemed to have forgotten how much I disliked you Dr. Kim.” You glance at him, wanting to see he truly had forgotten.

Or simply didn’t want to remember.

He sighs, “You’re right about that.” The car turns onto your street, “But what about now?”

“Now?” He stops the car at the front of your apartment, shifting into park before turning to you.

“What do you think of me now?” His stare is trained on you and your eyes dart away immediately from his heavy gaze.

“You’ve changed a lot,” You begin, “And I wouldn’t go so far to say I particularly dislike you anymore.”

He doesn’t answer you and recoils back in his seat with a hand still on the steering wheel. His fingertips tap against the hard leather and you wonder how the comfortable vibe inside the car was able to shift into the stifling silence so suddenly. 

He clears his throat and you instantly look up at him, “When’s your next day off?”

“Day off?” You wonder for a moment if you ever even get one of those, but you assume it would be around the time Namjoon would return. “After the two weeks.”

“Good. Don’t book anything on that day.” He unlocks the car so that you can leave.

“Don’t book anything…?” You tilt your head to the side, unsure of what he was saying.

But a huge grin crosses on his features and his words only have a deep rose coloring your cheeks.

“Because that day is reserved for me...for a special date.”

[howdoyousayghibli]

Tales from Earthsea Can’t Survive Broken Promises

I really didn’t think it would come to this, folks, but Tales from Earthsea (2006) is not a good movie. 

There have been a couple movies I’ve reviewed so far that weren’t my cup of tea — I didn’t find Only Yesterday or My Neighbors the Yamadas to be very satisfying, for example. This movie goes far beyond that; I can confidently say that this isn’t a matter of my personal taste. Tales from Earthsea has its moments, but they are totally outweighed by its failings.

Now that you know what you’re in for, let’s back up a bit. Tales from Earthsea was the first of two movies directed by Hayao Miyazaki’s son, Gorō. It is (very) loosely based on the Earthsea series of novels by acclaimed sci-fi/fantasy author Ursula K. Le Guin. Le Guin’s novels often trade in the same kind of subversion of typical Western storytelling that Studio Ghibli’s movies do, which makes this movie all the more tragic. 

Taking place in the magical world of Earthsea, the plot concerns a young prince on the run and a seasoned wizard searching for the cause of a series of worldwide calamities. The plot is also the source of this movie’s troubles. The casting, animation, and writing are all much less problematic, so let’s start with those.

According to something I read somewhere, Goro Miyazaki was hired to write and direct Earthsea based on the strength of the storyboards he’d drawn for it; while the decision to have him in those particular roles didn’t pan out, it’s easy to see how his storyboards could’ve instilled such confidence. The opening sequence, set on boats amidst a storm, is especially memorable and striking, and the designs for the dragons, alien and metallic, set them apart from the dragons of many other fantasy worlds. 

The casting is also well done. As Sparrowhawk, the wizard searching for the source of the world’s troubles, Timothy Dalton brings a sense of wisdom and experience that is easy to believe in. It’s crucial to the thrust of this story that Sparrowhawk be a much more down-to-earth wizard than your standard Dumbledores or Merlins, and Dalton gets that across. 

Equally up to her task is Mariska Hargitay — from Law & Order: SVU — as Tenar, Sparrowhawk’s … important … person? The nature of their relationship is left vague, but the important thing is that Tenar delivers several lines that efficiently hint at a lot of unspoken backstory, which does wonders for the film’s worldbuilding. Hargitay makes these lines sound natural when they could’ve easily come of as stilted, and she and Dalton bring great chemistry and history that makes the second act of Tales from Earthsea its best. The rest of the cast is less effective, but they get the job done.

Almost disappointingly, there’s some good writing hidden in this movie as well. Before it goes completely off the rails, and even a little after, there are interesting conversations about death, and how it gives meaning to life. For a moment, you’re willing to forgive a few oddities and believe that this movie really understood the books it adapted, with its deliberate pace, meditative feel, and pragmatic wizards. 

Then the climax kicks into motion, and everything falls apart. 

If, against my recommendation, you plan on watching this movie, here’s the no-spoilers version. The movie sets up a lot of questions in the first two acts, and even in the third — what is the shadow person plaguing Prince Arren? Why did Prince Arren murder his father? Where did Therru get her scar? Who even is Therru? What’s up with Arren’s sword? What was up with those two dragons fighting in the opening scene? Why does Cob want Arren’s true name? What does knowing someone’s true name even mean, in a practical sense?

Dear reader, literally none of these questions are answered in any kind of coherent fashion. I want to make it clear that I’m not complaining about not getting answers; answers come, but they are the ravings of madmen. Answers and revelations and problems and solutions either come completely out of the blue, or else fly in the face of things we were just told minutes ago. 

As I watched, I continued to hold out hope that soon, something would happen to elucidate the madness I was watching. Surely, soon there would be a revelation that would snap everything into place, justifying my investment in this film and its story. Instead, the nonsense continues right up until the credits. 

In his excellent Movies with Mikey episode on The Lost World, Mikey Neumann asks if one utterly stupid moment can ruin an otherwise good movie. Maybe one moment can’t, but an utterly stupid ending can. Whatever talent or joy exists in the first hour and change of Tales from Earthsea is completely tainted by its disastrous ending. The beginning of any story is a promise, and the middle prepares us for the fulfillment of that promise. A movie can survive a botched beginning or middle if it makes good on its promises — Rogue One is a great example of this. But no movie can survive a failure, on the most basic level, to keep the promises it made. 

If you’ve experienced the frustration and betrayal of watching Tales from Earthsea, you might enjoy commiserating with my very spoiler-y and not particularly coherent notes on the ending:

The opening scenes are very cool! Dragon fights, magic not working, plagues etc., a king’s demand to get to the bottom of it, his assassination! Exciting!

Then ………… Patricide Lad and a Very Boring Wizard go for a very long walk

Bad Decisions are made

Oh hey, things are getting interesting! A plot is happening! Dastardly schemes and getting to know our characters! The villain is pretty creepy actually!

But then …. everything stops even trying to make sense

Nothing about Cob needing prince’s true name makes sense (the drug callback is nice though)

True name gives Cob power over Princeling until it doesn’t

Sword stops Cob’s power, until it doesn’t

Actually cutting off Cob’s hand unleashes his True Power, you idiot, duh

Girl Zuko was a dragon?????

Sparrowhawk is freed! Except …. he’s just gonna watch, i guess

Oh, now dragon girl is a human girl again, i guess

Why did Arren kill his dad??? Where did the shadow boy come from????? Why was the shadow good at the end????????

Arren talks about his inner darkness or whatever but like, why?? What made you so sad/mad/existential that you spawned Shadow Arren?

There’s definitely some interesting stuff in here about how death is what gives meaning to life, no shadow without light etc., but it just throws it all in the garbage with that ending

Just …………………. Dumb.

Alternate Titles:

Patricide Lad and the Very Boring Wizard

More like FAILS from Earthsea, GOT EM

Tales from Earthsea: Good, then Boring, then Good, then Very, Very Bad

Up Next:

Technically, the next film Studio Ghibli made was the adorable Ponyo, but that was actually the first movie I reviewed in this series. So instead, I’ll be watching Arrietty — I know literally nothing about it, but it can’t possibly be worse than Tales from Earthsea was! See you then!

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco Pt. 1

This follows a prompt written by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count: 3018

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

2nd March, 1998

It’s hard. It’s really, really hard, to know what I know and do nothing. Every day I wake up screaming, nightmares plaguing me in my sleep. Each morning I look in the mirror, and watch as my wings start to fade. Going from purest white, to a darker shade of grey. I’m losing feathers too. There’s a jar by my bed, and a couple others in a drawer, filled with them.

The day they started drooping, I became terrified. I knew what had caused it, but I didn’t want to think about. Angels are rarely men. And when they are, they don’t usually survive for very long. My life up until now was, rather dangerous. I always thought that if the war hadn’t killed me, I would’ve eventually died from being an angel. I guess it’s both.

Voldemort is in the living room of Malfoy Manor, discussing what the next move will be. Father is listening intently, and I’ve been banished to my room, so it must be vital. Maybe there’s new information. Maybe they are planning another battle. I hope I’m not asked to participate. I never asked to be a part of this. I wish I wasn’t. Mother has grown increasingly concerned recently. She is the only confidant I have. The only person I can talk to. Her once beautiful hair has rapidly been turning grey and warn. The wrinkles riddling her skin are more pronounced than last year, and she is

growing frail. I’m terrified of losing her, because that’s where I feel we’re heading.

A knock draws me across the room and towards my door. The wood is dark and thick, keeping up the illusion of no light in the Manor. When I twist the handle and pull the door towards me, I jump. It’s Voldemort. What’s he doing here? He takes in the surprise on my face, and a beam shows itself. On anyone else, I would say that it ‘lit up their face’. With the Dark Lord, however, it’s much more of a wicked, cruel, and insane look. Like he wants to saw my head off in a public courtyard. I cringe at the thought.

“I’ve been wondering, Draco.” I shudder and pray that it isn’t visible. “How would you feel about being a crucial part of the next battle?” Like I have any choice. Like he wouldn’t kill me on the spot if he questioned my loyalty.

“Of course, my lord,” I say as I drop into a bow.

“Wonderful! Would you like to join the meeting in the drawing room, then?”

“That would be much gracious of you, my lord.”

I receive no reply, just a hand on my shoulder as I walk down the corridor and into the room my father is in.

“You’re here, Draco. Glad. Take a seat over there.” Father gestures to a black leather armchair, and I sit on the very edge of the cushion. Voldemort strides in after me, and takes a seat opposite my father. He begins informing me about the recent decision to crash the Ministry. But not just any part of the Ministry. No, no, we need to be more ambitious than that. That’s predictable even. No. We are crashing the Unspeakables’ department.

Horror drips down my spine, but I smile and nod at the half-man in front of me. I tell him that I think it’s a marvellous idea, and will really persuade people to join the correct side of this war. In my head, I’m screaming. It’s the worst idea imaginable. Who knows what’s in that department? If someone was to so much as knock something, we could all be dead. What if someone was to wear a certain metal that reacted with an object? I can’t see this going at all well, but I sit in silence, a fake smile on my face.

***

9th March, 1998

I’m in over my head. I’ve known the next ploy for a week exactly, and have come up with every possible way this mission could fail. We could burn alive. Explode. Drown. Rapidly age. Turn into objects. Have the air sucked out of our bodies. The list is so long I forget the first few I wrote down. I have no idea why Voldemort decided the Unspeakable department was a good plan. But then again, when has he ever had a good plan?

The wind roars around my ears, and I can’t hear anything other than my pulse and hammering heart. Mountains are beautiful to look at, but to hike them? That’s another story entirely. But I needed to get away. I couldn’t bear to be in the same house as my father and Voldemort. The two men are positively insane. They both need a mental asylum.

I sweep my eyes over the ground below, and marvel at the scene stretched before me. The view from Skiddaw mountain is astonishing. I feel tiny in comparison to everything else I can see. I feel like I’m insignificant. A welcome emotion for me recently. The sky above me is dull and cloudy, but there is no rain falling today. It’s Monday, and I should be at Hogwarts, but I’ve been pulled out for the remainder of Seventh Year. Potter isn’t there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing much. Studies became quite boring Sixth Year, if I’m being honest.

Potter. Apparently he is off in the world somewhere, trying to locate and destroy Horcruxes. I applaud him for trying, but there is no way he’ll survive that. Voldemort told me himself how difficult they are to find, and that to actually get a hold of them is practically impossible. I’ve tried to imagine where they would be, what they would be, but have always come up dry. I don’t know of a single place so dangerous. Potter must be out of his mind. Potter, Granger, Weasley, and his precious Order.

Suddenly no longer interested in the scenery below me, I turn around and walk over to the tree where I’ve laid all my things out. I sit on the emerald picnic rug, and bite into one of the apples I brought. The pink skin matches what colour I know my cheeks must be, and I hum with the sweet taste filling my mouth. The branches above me sway in the gentle breeze, and I’m reminded of autumn days in Third Year. Before everything started going south rapidly.

That was the year with Black escaping from Azkaban. The year with the stupid hypogriff breaking my arm. The year Granger punched me, and Potter laughed at me. Thankfully, that didn’t happen very often. My thoughts start straying back to life at Hogwarts, before the world turned a head. Before my family started to repeatedly fulfill “tasks” and “assignments”. Before I had to seclude myself from my friends, the rest of Slytherin, and before I had to push myself to the extremes of my magical capabilities.

The Vanishing Cupboard, the Unbreakable Vow, Dumbleodre’s death, and the Sectumsempra incident. Last year was a bitch. I can’t see this year being any improvement however. The plans that I’ve overheard (due to unfold in May) haunt me in my sleep. I don’t know what to do about it. I have no one to talk to. To tell how scared I am.

The wind starts picking up, and the emerald rug beneath me lifts up in the breeze. Although it’s no longer a breeze. It’s more like a blustery wind than anything else. Regardless, I decide that it’s probably for the better to leave Skiddaw mountain and return to the Manor. I use my wand and a complex charm my father taught me in order to pack up all my things. I watch as everything floats above the rug, which starts folding itself into a square. The food I didn’t eat flies into the basket I brought, neatly organised and sorted. Then the rug shrinks, and enters into the basket. The basket then shrinks itself, so now I can fit it in the pocket of my black skinny jeans. Happy with the charm, I nod to myself and pick up my Nimbus 2001 from where it was resting against the tree.

Even though the wind is brutal, I would rather fly the 475-ish kilometres back to Wiltshire, than accidentally apparate into a meeting again. That didn’t work out so well for me last time.

***

11th March, 1998

Life is getting worse. It’s harder and harder each day to tell myself that it will be okay. Two days ago, I was beaten into unconsciousness for arriving after my curfew. The wind had made it nearly impossible to fly, and I struggled the whole way to the Manor. Being the stubborn prat that I am, I was confident that I would make it back before 11pm. I shouldn’t have taken the risk.

As an added punishment, I am grounded to my room. But my father and Voldemort don’t do things by half. No. They have come up with specially designed wards to let them in, but to keep everyone else out. Not to mention, I physically can’t leave. If I try, I’m electrocuted until I pass out. If that happens four times, I’m instantly killed. I am forced to stay in my tiny, dark, uncomforting room for a week. The only thing I’m allowed to do is write letters. But I have no way of sending them out to anyone or anywhere. With no owl to carry them, I’m doomed. They deliberately let me write for help, knowing that I’m not stupid enough to actually do it.

Instead, I write stories, I draw woodland animals (and other more, uh, explicit ones, but those are burned immediately after completion). It’s relaxing. With nothing but ink and parchment, I waste away the hours in front of the fire. The warmth very welcome in the cold month March is shaping up to be. Eventually tired with ink, I grab down a book on puzzles from my shelves. The cover is faded, deep purple, the title written in silver thread. I’ve read this so many times, solved each riddle, word puzzle, and math problem, but I open it anyway.

The first one is easy. “.--. ..- --.. --.. .-.. . ... - .... .-. --- ..- --. .... --. . -. . .-. .- - .. --- -. ...” The problem is written in Morse code, and it takes less than a minute to have it decoded. “Puzzles Through Generations” is the title of the book, and I find it rather humorous that it’s also the first problem. I smile to myself, before diving headfirst into the book.

***

Later that same evening, I start to grow restless. With nothing else in my room, I’ve resorted to lying on my bed, face buried in a pillow. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Why I allowed myself to get into this mess. Why I even bothered coming back to the Manor. I wonder, not for the first time, why I’m given so much freedom. Well, except for right now, of course. I’m generally permitted all through the Manor and it’s grounds. I’m given unlimited access to anywhere on the continent, so long as I can be traced.

I always come to the same conclusion though. The two terrible excuses for men know I won’t leave. They know that I know that if I was to desert them, they would track me. Voldemort would employ thousands of Death Eaters to find me, and to bring me back to him to die at his hands. Hours of torture would occur, worsened because of my father. I would be considered a ‘traitor’. I have nothing wrong with that last bit, of course. But I wouldn’t want to leave my mother. She would surely be punished for my actions, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.

I stand up from the bed, pace over to the small bathroom joined to my bedroom, and stare at my reflection. I look ill. My hair is in shambles, strewn all over my face. It almost looks like Potter’s, except for the colours, which are starkly opposite. My eyes have sunken into my skin, dark rings under them. My complexion has become sickly pale, and I wonder when this happened. I’ve probably looked terrible for months, but been too busy with everything else (like surviving) to notice.

Trying desperately to salvage my appearance I cast a few simple charms. I straighten out my hair, making it fall neatly to my scalp. After struggling with my complexion for a while, I give up and move to my eyes. The bags are covered with a glamour that takes all of my energy. I’m so tired from the spells that I pad back to my bed and gladly fall asleep. In my dreams, I question why I was worn out so quickly, but pass it off as being trapped in a room with no sun, limited food and water, and lack of new oxygen.

***

15th March, 1998

I’m becoming desperate. I was let out of my room for an hour earlier this morning, and dragged outside into the sun and air. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but it was better than nothing but artificial lights. Food was handed to me, and I greedily ate it, the first proper meal I’d had in six days. I didn’t think the occasional plate of unappetising gloop counted. After fifteen minutes, I was dragged back inside once again, and led into the drawing room where I first accepted the Dark Mark. I was then tortured for the remainder of the hour.

Legilimency was first. Voldemort did it himself. Digging through my memories to find any weakness he could find. He had eventually decided on one of Potter lunging at me, fury in his eyes. I was taunted with it for ages, before being placed under the Cruciatus Curse. It had been extreme pain, and I’m thankful it’s over now. Still, the sensation is fresh in my mind, and I’m being plagued by paranoia.

Desperation fills me just from the memory, and I silently panic at my desk. I need to get out of here. My wings are losing colour every day. Feathers have filled the jar next to my bed, and I’ve started a fourth. I need to get help immediately. I’m seriously starting to wonder how long I have left. As a male angel, I never should’ve lived this long. I should’ve died years ago. I stretch my fading wings out, and try to gently flutter them. No use. Instead, I watch as a single feather floats to the carpet beneath my feet.

Uncontrollable tears stream down my face, and it’s desperation that finally drives me to pick up a quill. It’s intense, urgent need that makes me pull a sheet of parchment from my stack. It’s in despair that I actually touch the inked quill to the parchment. I quickly pen a letter to the first person I can think of to save me. Shuddering, I use my wand to summon a muggle postage stamp from the hallway outside, slip it under the door, and stick it to the envelope I pulled from a drawer.

A shiver goes through me as I seal the letter in the envelope. I don’t know how to send it to him, until I remember about the bathroom. I cross the bedroom and turn the water on in the shower in order to cover any noise I might make. Then I drag a chair in from the bedroom, and place it directly beneath the air vent. Standing in the chair precariously, I unattach the grille from the ceiling and place it gently onto the white tiles. The gap is too small for anything but my hand to get through, and grin. There’s no way anyone will think I’ve used this air vent for anything. What’s the point after all?

Carefully, I place the letter into the vent opening and pull my wand from my pocket. Knowing I’ll be drained after this no matter what I do, I decide to use everything left in me to lurch the letter up. A shock of green particles shoot from my wand tip, and they push the letter up the vent. I watch as it disappears from view and into the kitchen vent. I start to track the letter with my mind. Following it as it flies through the deserted kitchen, and out of the window in the dining room. I know it’s made it out of the wards when the green barges into my wand again, knocking me of the chair I’m still standing on.

Now I can only hope that Potter replies. Or rather, that he doesn’t.

***

22nd March, 1998

It’s been a week now, and I’ve heard nothing from him. I have been let out of my room though. My wings have lost all of the pure white, and are now as dark as a raven. It’s quite striking, the dark colour of the few feathers I have left, against my sickly pale skin and platinum hair. I always thought that if I lost my wings, there would be a skeleton left to haunt me of the sins I had committed. Instead, there is nothing. The feathers aren’t attached to anything but air. Maybe it’s because of the extremity of the darkness encompassing me.

I no longer feel much at all, just longing to be saved. Even if it’s by my previous enemy.

***

24th March, 1998

My wings are totally gone. Vanished from existence. I feel awful. The steady stream of food, sun, water, and air being spoon-fed to me isn’t enough. My mother is blaming herself, and I can’t stand seeing her beyond herself. I start praying to a god I don’t believe in for Potter to arrive.

***

26th March, 1998

I threw up today. It’s been 24 days since this whole thing started. Scars have made themselves a home between my shoulder blades, permanently tormenting me. I wish not for the first time that I’d done something sooner. Before I was in over my head. Potter had better get here soon.

***

A/N: Next part will be out same time next week! If you want to be tagged in the next uploads, please tell me so you don’t miss out! 🥰

Masterlist — Next Part

[psychic-master-will-archive]

Writober, Day 1: Fears

It took Will a good minute to collect himself, and it took even longer to look up into his bathroom mirror. A part of him wondered why he even bothered; simply staring at himself wasn’t going to give him the confidence he needed, nor would it lead to him suddenly loving himself after years of self hatred. Yet another part, the part that brought him here, said otherwise. This part told him that, if he wanted to get to a better place, then he needed to start small and start somewhere. This was his starting point.

The white cloth obscuring his eyes stared back to him out of the mirror. Behind them as a sight he had always avoided looking at, for whenever he did, horrible memories would resurface. Even when he would shower or bathe, he always avoided the mirror until he could put the mask back on. The mask was a safety net; a barrier to keep the bad out while giving him the means to go out in public without anxiety and panic taking over. The mask was the result of years of crafting a persona, one that led to him forgetting who he was, and forgetting a time where he never wore it. The mask was the most crucial aspect of his wardrobe, and while the style of it changed through the years to match his various outfits, the purpose had been the same. 

It was also this mask that, while providing him with safety and comfort, also stood in his way. The barrier it provided helped him to shut out people for years, even his own family. In fact, up until this point, there had only been one to see him without it, and that was enough to leave him shaken. In recent days, and years, he had started to shed his mask multiple times, but each time filled him with a dread he couldn’t shake. He believed the responses he would get would mimic those he had gotten in the past; each one laced with a hatred and anger over something he never asked for, nor had any control over. He expected people to lash out when they saw him as he truly was without the mask, which was why he was adamant about wearing it. Yet, the responses he ended up getting were the exact opposite.

As he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, the positive reactions to his eyes came to the forefront of his mind. The first was Karen, who had told him time and time again that there was nothing wrong, and that he was being silly for wearing the thing in the first place. Her opinion had softened over the years, once she had learned the true depth of his insecurities and self hatred, but the initial point remained: There’s nothing wrong with them.

Then there was Lance who, since the first time he caught Will without his mask, was taken by his eyes. He would tell Will that they were beautiful, and will could tell that Lance was drawn to them. He mentioned something about their hue was captivating, though Will himself could never see it.

Following Lance came Grimsely who, also by accident (and on Will’s part), caught a good long look at his eyes. He said much the same as Lance, though with more of an emphasis on how gorgeous they were and how he shouldn’t hide such a thing from the world. He then went further to say that he was cute, something that Will struggled to accept. To Will, his eyes were a reminder of something ugly and far more sinister; they were as far from gorgeous as you could get, and they certainly didn’t make him cute. 

But was that even true? Were Karen, Lance, and Grimsley right? Was there something about them that Will couldn’t see? Was he wrong? 

There was only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath, Will reached up and removed the first barrier, one of many that would come crumbling down, though he didn’t know it yet. Placing it on the counter of the bathroom sink, Will looked back up at his reflection and was, like the others, immediately drawn to his eyes. While most would think that they would be lilac in hue, they were actually a deep violet colour. Not as dark as his hair, but dark enough to truly stand out. He had never paid much attention to the colour before, though the longer he stood and stared at them, the more he began to see why others were drawn to them.

However, he noticed that one eye was duller than the other, and looked fairly cloudy. This was the result of trauma inflicted upon it due to his childhood, and it was because of that incident that he started donning a mask in the first place.

‘You just don’t learn, do you, freak?’

‘He probably thinks his brother is going to come to his rescue and bail him out. Shame that even he abandoned him.’

‘You knew better than to go where you didn’t belong, and now we gotta teach you a lesson.’

‘Your kind isn’t welcome here.’

‘Don’t worry; we’ll put you in your place.’

‘No one can help you, because no one likes you. You can understand that much, right?’

‘He’s only going to use his powers to scare and harm us! We gotta stop him here and now!’ 

The last comment was followed by pain as he felt many stones being hurled at him. One of the last caused a pain far worse than the ones before it, and with it came a sharp, high pitched cry laced with pain as the warm sensation of blood traveled down his face. One of the stones had embedded themselves into his eye, and when the boys saw the damage, they turned and fled, leaving Will alone to suffer in the now abandoned alleyway. It wouldn’t be until his mother found him and rushed him to the hospital that he learned his damage in that eye was permanent, and it wasn’t until later still that the cloudy hue to it made itself known, along with partial blindness.

Despite the memories flooding his mind, Will kept his eyes open and his gaze forward. If he shut his eyes now and looked away, he would be giving those boys the same power over him as they have had all these years. If he looked away now and retreated behind his mask, then this whole exercise was pointless. If he wanted to move forward and saw what others did, then he had to face it rather than hide.

As the minutes passed, so did the memories, and once the last one faded Will became aware of his hands grasping the edge of the counter tightly. He was also aware that he was trembling, and that his face was pale. Yet, his gaze remained focused on his eyes which remained the same despite reliving the memories that brought him to this point.

When he realized that nothing changed, he felt a small sense of relief. His eyes, despite what happened, were just as much a part of him as his powers, and he couldn’t change them. Sure he could get some sort of cosmetic surgery, but that wouldn’t change what happened in the past. His eyes were still a part of him, and like his powers he needed to learn to accept them, too. 

It would be a while before he could bring himself to see them as the others did, and while he had no plans to remove his mask when out in public (it was as much a part of his aesthetic as his persona), perhaps he could let it down a bit while alone, and with his coworkers at the league. After all, Karen and Lance had already seen it, and they were not repulsed. Surely Koga and Bruno would be much the same? Not to mention that he already used his powers freely around the league, despite still struggling to see them as a good thing. The more he used his powers, the more comfortable he became with them, so surely that same truth could be applied to his eyes, as well? He didn’t need to see them as beautiful to accept them, and if it took him a while to get to that point, then so be it. It was a process that couldn’t be rushed, and he had no intentions of doing so.

As he gave one last look at himself in the mirror, he was aware of the memories in the back of his mind. He was also aware that it would take time before they no longer haunted him, though he could take comfort in the fact that he faced them without having a complete breakdown this time, and that, perhaps, there would come a day where he could put it behind him. For now, though, he had to focus on one task at a time; he had to focus on growing comfortable with his eyes. If he could do it with his powers, then he could do so with his eyes, too.

With that thought in mind, Will took the mask off the counter and left the bathroom. He placed it on his bedside table, taking one last look at it before heading towards the door. While he could feel the beginnings of his anxiety stir within him, a part of him tried to focus on the positive: Their shocked reactions to his actual face would be priceless.

((Note: Will has many fears, and while there are far worse fears, all of them stem from the same place: His childhood. I decided to go this route because I want to develop his character , and this is the first step in this process.

For the fear mentioned in this entry, it would be the fear of facing his past. I hinted towards a few other things that’ll be explored at a later date, such as who Will was before the mask, and the many barriers he put in place that keep him separated from others. I also took inspiration from my Snapshot Memories fanfic, as well.))

[ineffablecolors]

The Wife [4/?]

The Wife || Ch 4 ~ 4.2 k || Ch 1 Ch2 Ch3 || FF.NET&AO3 Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are? A/N: Do check the notes on chapter 1 and fair warning - they touch again.

Dear Emma,

  If Emma had any doubts about Killian’s claims, the letter she receives from Mary Margaret the very next day would’ve put them to rest. As it is, she is grateful to be forewarned so the information Mary relays is not as much of a shock to her as it apparently was to her friend.

Still, her heart can’t help but constrict painfully at Mary’s badly hidden distress. The indignation on the sheet of paper is palpable – how the last cup of tea Emma shared with her friend wasn’t even washed yet when Mary’s apartment became the preferred destination for good Samarians who wanted to warn her that she’d better wait a fortnight before paying her friend a visit as some people expected Killian Jones to put her out of his house in no time at all.

Emma is not terribly surprised. Whatever rumours might circulate about Captain Jones, he is still a man and one with a decent income at that. Society may wag its tongues but it will never spit him out. It obviously has no such qualms about Emma.

Mary, however – with her less than favourable opinion of Emma’s husband, is obviously incented by the mere suggestion that Killian might be the one to find fault with Emma rather than the other way around. Yet, Emma can’t help but notice that it has taken more than a week for her friend to write to her. She believes this as well probably stems from Mary’s distrust of her husband, rather than a desire to set herself apart from Emma and, while the latter would have been truly devastating, she finds that the former causes her a fair bit of annoyance as well.

She can’t help the spike of irritation when her friend’s manner of writing adopts the style of one addressing a prisoner – as if she were a princess locked in a towel guarded by a dragon. Though that image is only wrong in spirit for, compared to her life with Regina, Emma does feel rather like a princess and, reading about the social fires raging in town, she rather appreciates the protection of her public-shunning dragon.

Thus, Emma sits at her desk, staring out of the window and wondering what on earth is the proper thing to do – invite her closest friend to visit her in her new home like any newly married woman would or absolve her of having to associate herself with Emma at least for the near future. Eventually, as with most things, Emma decides to trust the feeling deep in her gut. She writes back to Mary Margaret, inviting her to visit if and only if she is confident it won’t prove too much of a stain on her snow white reputation and, as kindly as she can, asks her not to abuse Killian’s name without reason.

*****

But it is not that letter which takes Emma by surprise, expected even earlier as it had been. It’s the one she finds the morning after, when she and Alice are sorting through their correspondence and Emma is trying – as she does every morning – not to notice the steady flow of letters Alice receives – all carrying the same pretty cursive.

She gets up and heads for Killian’s study, turning the letter over and over in her hand.

“I think you forgot this one,” she says when she is within reach of his desk and he can get a good look at the name.

He looks up and Emma purses her lips so she doesn’t grin at the way he squints and pushes his glasses up his nose.

“I did not. It’s addressed to you.”

“Yes, but it’s from your sister-in-law.”

“Aye, but it’s addressed to you. I’m not going to go around opening your correspondence, Emma, no matter who it might be from.”

Emma draws her hand back to her side and mulls that over. Privacy is most certainly not something she has been deprived off in this house but she appreciates the freedoms that she keeps discovering, freedoms that she thought – still thinks really – not many women enjoy.

“May I?”

She waves a hand toward one of the armchairs in Killian’s study and he blinks at her a couple of time in surprise before he nods his affirmation. Emma drops into the chair’s soft depths slightly less gracefully than she intended and a sly look at Killian shows that he might have noticed, if the way he focuses hard on the papers before him and purses his own lips to keep them from stretching is any indication. She does her best to control her blush and turns her attention back to Elsa’s letter. Elsa’s invitation, as it turns out.

“There’s to be a dance.”

“I expected as much.”

“You did?”

“Hmm. You and Alice should pick some new gowns this week.”

She laughs.

“I just finished filling a whole wardrobe, I believe I’ll manage to find something to wear. Does that mean we will be attending?”

Killian finally looks up again and Emma thinks that surprise is definitely the reaction she seems to inspire the most in her husband.

“Even I don’t refuse invitations extended by my own brother and his lovely wife. Especially when the whole affair is organized to welcome my new wife.”

He gives her a pointed look and Emma feels her eyes widen, the letter almost slipping from her cold fingers.

“Oh. But… this can’t— You must tell them there is no need—“

Killian waves his hand in a gesture that seems to say nothing can be done about it now.

“Do not concern yourself, Elsa would seize any and every opportunity for a ball. I would’ve been concerned for my sister’s health had she failed to send such an invitation before the close of the month. It will also…” Killian looks her in the eyes, a certain amount of caution and gentleness swimming in the blue. “Well, it will be a good thing for us to do.”

There is no blush on her cheeks now, she is certain, for while the feeling for one is there, her face must be quite pale as she realizes that the Jones’s are throwing a ball to demonstrate that Killian has not married her just to hide her away like a shameful secret.

“Oh, this is really—“

Emma flounders for a bit before she drops her face in her hands and tries to master her emotions, her shoulders hunched and her fingers digging into the roots of her hair as she breathes through her nose. Focused as she is on that crucial task, the warmth of Killian’s hand on her knee is like a jolt to her entire system. She looks up to find him kneeling in front of her, a cautious and concerned expression on his face.

“Emma, there truly is nothing to worry about. It’s not at all unusual to celebrate an addition to the family with a—“

“Yes, except,” her voice is choked but she soldiers on. “This is not a celebration but a demonstration—“

“That depends entirely on how you choose to see it.”

She opens her mouth to protest but the calmness on his face stops the words in her throat.

“Papa, I have decided what— Oh. Is something the matter?”

The concern on Alice’s face is the last push Emma needs to pull herself together and she smiles up at the girl the best she can as her hand reaches to quickly squeeze Killian’s in silent gratitude – the warmth of it almost seeping into her own fingers.

“It would seem we are going to a ball.”

“Ah, is that what aunt Elsa wrote you about? But… do you not wish to go, Emma?”

“No, no, I do. I was just… surprised, her requesting that I be her guest of honour is a bit... I’m sure to muck it up.”

Alice laughs at her choice of words and shakes her head as Killian gets back to his feet.

“It’s really not that difficult. You just have to look nice but also not overshadow aunt.”

Emma takes her own turn to laugh.

“I’m quite certain there is no danger of that.”

“What did you come to tell me, darling?”

“Ah, yes,” and just like that the sparkle is back in Alice’s eyes. “I’ve decided what we are to do today.”

“And you have been so kind as to come pass your sentence personally.”

Alice rolls her eyes in a manner that Emma is sure many a proper lady would have quite a few choice words for but no one in the room seems to mind.

“We’re going to the lake. Ruby is already preparing a basket.”

Killian casts a mournful look at his desk before he sighs and turns back to his daughter.

“Aye, aye, cap’n.”

*****

Ruby tries to stifle her laugh as she watches the mistress of the house rub mournfully at the heel of her foot.

“I have never seen a woman this fond of walking and riding, and running, and really any physically taxing activity on the face of the earth.”

Now she can’t help but chuckle in agreement.

“She was much worse when she was little, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, what did she do then? Fly?”

“She tried it once. Thankfully, she was already smart enough to choose a window on the ground floor. Granny says half of Captain Jones’s gray hairs are from that very day.”

Emma shakes her head and fits her foot back in her soft slipper with the slightest whimper before she takes the other one in her hands. Ruby adds one last log to the fire in the library and turns to leave when Emma speaks up again.

“Ruby, did— Was there a ball given when… when the late Mrs Jones became… Mrs Jones?”

Ruby frowns a bit, digging into her own memories and trying to order what her grandmother has told her.

“Well, I think I wasn’t old enough to be helping Granny around the kitchen yet. She’d only been here for a year or so. Ever since the captain had come back from the war and taken the house, you know? And she—” Ruby smiles at her first memories of sneaking rolls behind Granny’s back. “She’d bring me round from time to time, she couldn’t always leave me with neighbours and all and she says Killian never minded. Now, she minded plenty but she had bigger messes to make to bother with me.”

Granny being the irreproachable fortress than she is, Ruby always gladly takes on the role of a more welcoming and engaging presence, but even she made an exception for Eloise. The woman scared her as a child and then—

She shakes her head and focuses her eyes on Emma’s curious green ones. Her mouth is set in a line that tells Ruby whatever she has heard has been enough to incite less than tender sympathies toward the previous Mrs Jones.

“But, no. No, I was told the whole thing was very quick and quiet. No announcements, no fanfare. I don’t think anyone was at the ceremony except for Admiral Jones. And then… well, she went into society a lot, I think. But never with the captain. There was this group of women – they’d come here often and then she would visit with them for long periods of time. I think everybody rather preferred it that way.”

She closes her mouth and sucks her lips in, sensing that she might have gotten carried away. Emma only asked about a ball and Ruby doesn’t want her thinking that she’ll grasp at any opportunity to gossip.

“Thank you. I umm…,” Emma’s own discomfort puts her more at ease. “I didn’t mean to pry into— I just wanted to get an idea. No matter. Thank you.”

Her smile is a little forced and nervous and Ruby returns it with a warm and genuine one. She has been watching Emma tiptoe around the house and the family even since she got here and she finds it both endearing and a little saddening. She almost wants to tell her that there is little she can do that will stand in a bad light compared to what came to pass before her, she wants to tell her that a little calmness and a little softness is all they all need and she seems to have enough of both within her.

But she doesn’t say any of that. It’s not her place and her grandmother will have her head, if she does. Ruby doesn’t get how she can still be suspicious of the new mistress’s intentions but she knows there is no use arguing with her – no one but Granny can convince Granny that she is wrong. So with another smile, she turns to leave, stopping with the door handle in her hand.

“Another thing, Miss Alice’s secret might be retiring to bed before the witching hour. Which cannot often be said about her father and yourself.”

*****

Emma stretches her aching legs in front of her one more time before she gets up and makes her way to the study at the end of the corridor for the second time that day.

The late summer day on the lake proved a nice distraction. Alice is something of an expert on lake and woodland creatures alike, Ruby is most certainly an expert on putting together a picnic in an hour and Killian apparently likes to pretend that he is an expert at stone skipping even though she defeated him twice as often as he did her. But, most importantly, none of them seem to be experts on ball etiquette and, rather than make her more anxious, this seemed to calm Emma’s nerves concerning the whole affair.

Back when she first came out into society, Regina was willing to let her go to as many dances as three gowns per season would permit her. But after a certain point in her young life her public appearances steadily decreased. At first, it was deemed the wise thing to do – to just disappear for a bit, to not fan the rumours’ flames by showing her face all around town, and then afterwards, Emma herself had lost all interest in the frivolities of meeting young ladies and gentlemen who cared more about what was being said about her and what she was wearing in her hair than what was in her head, let alone her heart – the latter was almost unmanageably heavy and after some time she tried to keep the former as blank as possible.

Obviously, whatever good her restrained and demure presence had achieved was undone by Regina’s candidness and desperate rush to find her a husband and now, in a few weeks’ time, Emma will have her first chance to hopefully start anew as Mrs Emma Jones. She tries to chase the thought away before it can seep all the way inside her and twist her all up, instead she takes the open door as a good sign and leans her hip lightly on the doorframe as she waits for Killian to look up from whatever he is scribbling furiously.

It takes long enough that her feet start tingling in protest again. Finally, his eyes rise and then so do his eyebrows – the question obvious and underlined with a touch of annoyance. She concentrates on not shifting nervously on her feet.

“Did you need something, Emma?”

“No, just trying to determine the chances of me having married a vampire.”

He snorts, obviously unwillingly amused.

“I assure you, I age,” he sets his pen down and reaches for his glass, lifting it to his mouth only to find it empty.

Emma shakes her head and turns on her heel without another word. In the kitchen Mrs Lucas informs her that Ruby has gone to bed.

“Oh, I don’t need anyone. Just to know where the chamomile and valerian root are.”

The cook huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest but she points out where everything Emma asks for is and leans back against the table with a look that tells Emma she is watching every move she makes in her kitchen.

“That’s not gonna work.”

Emma shrugs her shoulders as if it’s all the same to her.

“And I could’ve done it for ya.”

“And what should I do?”

“How should I know? Whatever it is that you ladies do when you are all provided for. Prop your feet on a pillow, admire lace, get one of them small dogs.”

Emma laughs at that last part.

“I prefer cats.”

“Cats are kitchen animals.”

“Well, maybe that’s why I like the kitchen quite so much,” she replies with a little challenge in the tilt of her chin as she arranges her tea tray under the older woman’s hawk-like gaze.

Mrs Lucas grunts in displeasure.

“Between your liking and him taking his breakfast in here all the time, I might as well leave the kitchen to the masters and go have all the rest of the house to myself.”

It is certainly an amusing image and, ever since first finding Killian here, Emma can’t say that she terribly minds the idea of them being locked in the small space and letting Mrs Lucas reigned over all else.

When first faced with the reality and imminence of it, Emma looked toward her marriage with a cool sort of resignation, then, much as she tried to maintain that detachment in front of Mary Margaret and Regina, and even herself, Emma inevitably started planning how to make her life as a married woman the most painless and bearable. She started envisioning a day in her future and trying to determine which moments she will be able to steal for herself, what spaces she will be able to carve out for herself. Most of all, of course, she thought her evenings and nights would not be her own and she most definitely did not envision fancying the idea of being shut in a small room with her husband.

Now, she is relieved to see that Killian has not shut the door to his study after her abrupt departure and she only has to nudge it slightly with her foot so she can carry her tea tray inside. It is as she looks for a place to put it that she realizes for the first time how rigidly ordered everything on Jones’ desk is – she deposits the tray a safe distance away from all the perfectly aligned piles of papers.

“Umm, thank you,” Killian doesn’t go as far as to eye the tea with distrust but it’s a near thing. “You needn’t have… I lean towards something a tad sharper in the evenings.”

Emma looks at the small arrangement of bottles on the high wooden table a few feet from his desk and approaches it slowly. She takes the silence as permission and leans down to inspect the bottles. Save for a couple of scotches, they are all different bottles of rum and even Emma’s meager knowledge is enough to determine that some of them are rather exotic and have probably crossed the ocean to find themselves here. She takes an opened and unremarkable one that she is almost certain she has seen before and turns around.

By now Killian is leaning back in his chair and watching her with undisguised amusement. At her questioning look, he swipes his arm in a gesture of generous invitation and watches her as she returns to her tea with the bottle clutched in her hand so tightly that her fingers look even more pale than usual.

Some small part of Emma wants to back out now and even that part knows that it’s too late for that. So she tries to loosen her shoulders as inconspicuously as possible and unscrews the cap on the bottle. She pours a small amount of the dark liquid into each of the two teacups – just enough not to be laughable, closes the bottle and sets it to the side.

Killian has put his writing instruments aside since she left to prepare the tea she is now pouring.

“You are finished?” she asks in her surprise.

“I still have to read through these,” he inclines his head toward a small pile of papers set front and center.

“Do you have to do that here?”

His right eyebrow climbs up, creasing his forehead and disappearing somewhere under the hair that has fallen over it.

“I suppose not.”

Emma picks up the tray again and thanks whatever star she was born under that it doesn’t shake in her white-knuckled grasp. She takes to steps backwards, careful not to step on her own dress and make a fool of herself, and lifts an eyebrow of her own.

She turns around at the door and heads for the library, her heart performing an admirable attempt at escaping her chest as she tries to focus on not spilling anything and not on listening if there is another set of footsteps coming up behind her.

As soon as she makes it inside, she sets the tray down with a clatter and takes a seat, her hands balled into fists in her lap. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and now she cannot help but strain her ears toward the corridor. Nothing. She bites her lower lip and tries to quickly wall in the feeling of humiliation that threatens to wash over her whole body.

Then she hears a door close. It takes less than half a minute to cross the distance between Killian’s study and the library and it’s a lucky thing indeed, seeing as Emma doesn’t breathe until he quietly slips into the room.

The look Killian gives her as he sits on the other end of the settee is downright evil but it doesn’t detract from her feeling of victory in the least. Nor does the pointed way he deposits his small mountain of papers beside the tea tray before he picks up one of the cups.

Satisfied, Emma takes the book she set aside and tucks her tired feet under her – the very picture of innocence that’s only ruined by the way she chokes a little on the first sip of the concoction in her teacup.

“Aye. Next time don’t use the rum I used to disinfect Alice’s scrapped knees with.”

She chokes a second time. That seems to satisfy Killian’s need for revenge and he settles more comfortably, adjusting his glasses and focusing on the document in his hand.

Mrs Lucas comes in a short time later to stoke the fire and ask if they need anything or she can retire for the night, looking at the teapot as if she still can’t quite accept that Emma has taken charge of it.

Emma has made some admirable progress with her book when her yawns start getting longer and harder to swallow around, her eyes watering a little more with each one.

“You really needn’t wait for me, love.”

Her hand freezes midway to her mouth and her eyes snap to Killian who somehow still manages to appear deeply engrossed in his own reading, though she is sure it is much drier and more complicated than her own. The endearment bounces in her mind for a moment longer and she tries to keep her face impassive – neither surprised, not pleased. But she can’t deny – and is only mildly startled to find – that inside she is both.

When Killian doesn’t look up, she eyes the sheets that he still hasn’t gotten to and sighs. She tries to concentrate on her book again long enough to finish her chapter before she gets up to return it to its shelf.

“You know you can leave it out, don’t you? Or take it up with you.”

She hesitates for a moment before she comes back and leaves the book on the side table. When she reaches for the tea tray Killian’s voice derails her again.

“I’ll put it away later.”

“You don’t have—”

“Emma, it’s fine, just leave it.”

She sighs again and thinks it probably sounds more like a huff, the way his mouth twitches at her exasperation.

“Alright. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She hesitates at the door long enough to glare at the way Killian rolls his knuckles over his forehead and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Really, it’s a fine thing that they don’t sleep in the same bed or there is no way she will let this happen night after night.

*****

For such a heavy door, it closes with the softest of clicks – which doesn’t stop the sound from echoing around in Killian’s mind long after.

As light and quiet as her presence is, the moment it is gone is much like a pitch black night at sea following on the heels of a full moon. There is a reason the moon recedes bit by bit, waning sailors off its light before it leaves them completely in the dark – the shock would be much too jarring otherwise.

And Killian Jones thought he of all men was prepared for anything when it came to taking on a new wife. Killian Jones was wrong. He is not at all prepared to enjoy having one.

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[chryslerintern-reg2019]

Week 3

Another week down and more registration experiences had! Monday was by far the most interesting day I had this week since so many unexpected things happened. I thought I would be working on my intern projects as usual, and while I was able to make some strides on my work throughout the day I was also able to assist the registration department in some exciting tasks. 

Before I get in to that I would like to proudly announce that I entered the final dimensions of the 362 Bruce Davidson photos into the TMS database. Woohoo! It’s a small victory but one that I will gladly take as it feels like it’s been hanging over my head for the past couple months. I started out by helping our registrar, Melanie, enter the dimensions into TMS as she was measuring the photos and calling out the numbers to me (while I was still a volunteer). Not long after, I was able to take the measurements of the photos along side Melanie so we could tackle the project faster. I must admit, however, I was not as quick in measuring the photos at first. I wanted to make sure I had the exact dimensions right and kept on double checking my work, which probably slowed the process down a bit. It was definitely a learning moment for me because from then on I learned to just be confident in my measurements and move on to the next photo. Just before I started the internship, I was given the opportunity to work on measuring the photos and entering them into TMS solo. It felt so wonderful knowing the registration department trusted me to handle the photos properly and take the measurements accurately. And a couple of solo sessions later the project is finally complete! I know that I probably shouldn’t be so excited about completing the data on a batch of objects since that is precisely part of a registrar’s job, but I think in this instance it’s a little more special to me because of the progress I made as an aspiring registrar/collections manager. I started out with just observing our registrar take the measurements and entering them into the database for her to doing the entire process on my own! I love how much I am growing as a registrar here at the Chrysler! 

Now on to the other fun things that happened this week! On Monday the registration team helped the art handlers de-install the Nick Cave piece entitled “Soundsuit” in order to give the artwork a rest (especially since it contains textiles) and to display other objects in our collection. It was my first time de-installing a piece and handling an object that was not a photograph, so it was an interesting experience. Some things I observed in the process: wearing gloves is crucial so the natural oils on your hands don’t contaminate the object, strategize how to dismantle the object and make a clear path so it’s easy to transport, and having extra hands and sets of eyes are always helpful (as long as they are trained in object handling and know what to look out for). I’ve learned these things from my collections management class but it was very cool seeing it all in action! 

Later that day, our associate registrar, Ali, had to open a safe in our storage to retrieve a coin that needed conservation work. Security is certainly crucial when dealing with museum objects and the registrar plays an important role in the process, so it was great learning about the Chrysler’s security procedures for this task. The coin we pulled out from storage was a 1838 copper token from the Anti-Slavery Society with an inscription that reads: “AM I NOT A WOMAN AND A SISTER”. 

At the end of the day, a UC Berkeley Egyptologist that visited the museum last week came back to take detailed photos of the sarcophogi that we have in our collection. The photos he took that day will be used to create 3D models of the sarcophogi for research purposes. Ali and I assisted and monitored the Egyptologist while he was photographing the objects. I’ve learned that as a registrar you not only have to coordinate with those who wish to see an object up close for academic purposes, but to also monitor them while they do it for the protection of the object. I didn’t realize that this was part of a registrar’s job, but it definitely makes sense! Museums are all about providing education and access to the public when it comes to their collection, so allowing a researcher to come and analyze an object certainly fits the bill. 

Not too shabby for a Monday, huh? And the rest of the week has been going just as well! Ali and I are currently collaborating with the Corning Museum of Glass to discuss how we can better catalog our glass collection (specifically when it comes to glass nomenclature). We’ve realized there seems to be a bit of a gap in nomenclature within the academic realm of glass so we’re working with our glass curator, Carrie, to address it in our collection. In other news, the Eric Carle exhibition opens tonight!

[codingpanel]

Center of Strength

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Try to get quite a few rapid results. Complete thing . the following, but it's critical for find quite a few fast in the beginning in order for the traction regarding starting off the program doesn't dwindle. Sacrificing one pound as well as a pair of, losing some sort of pant dimensions, finishing a workout with out ceasing, whichever forces you to think good. Be realistic relating to this, although get some thing a person aim for so you can flavour achievement in addition to get anyone to continue.

Check out remaining fit. This particular is really an enormous motivation the way it shows you successes and provides a lot of thoughts with regards to attaining goals. Hence take time to examine a novel as well as online article of your preferred work out, as well as healthy and balanced food. You'll be very impressed the best way interested it's possible you'll promptly become.

Get the perspiration flowing. In my situation, a workout that will doesn'to do this departs my family considerably empty. Getting the beats per minute way up (and sweating) triggers all the crucial points that creates work out consequently effective. Them burns up calories, reinforce and also the in addition to cardiovascular technique, in addition to releases endorphins around your brain that will have you feeling great. You'll find!

Carry out what you might! All of us have boundaries and quite often rely on them seeing that lame excuses that will interfere with our health routines. Time period, strain, cramps, in addition to weakness many give rise to each of our reason for you to digress as well as wholly quit some sort of program. Don'to allow that to happen. While you are supplying in one of those treats, attempt to at the least accomplish something. Coerce by yourself a person can at least accomplish 1/2 or perhaps 1/3 of the workout. (10 a few Sekunden? Don't proceed seeing that intensive as well as fast. Purchase, with out in fact supplying your break. You may be surprised by persuasive you to ultimately at the least begin, you'll be able to push trickier through the exercise routine

Have a support.Loved ones, buddies, myspace, whatever. Have got someone you possibly can confide inside a person's issues that will may offer positive support. Is effective wonders from the beginning.

Find a person's fit, around health! Put other ways, uncover work out in addition to diet regime that let you end up being fulfilled. Exactly what things to do would you enjoy, as well as for that matter, dislike? Jogging, wandering, training, bike riding, Plyometrics, calisthenics, WiiFit, whatever. If perhaps almost nothing lights a person's fire, you will find a tough highway hereJ On the other hand, in the event that you've ought to see this much into the write-up, I personally skepticism there's almost nothing pertaining to you.