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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

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Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.” Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg)#sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years

Text

Guess I Misunderstood

Part 2 of Not the One series.

Summary: Kurt's trying a find a way to end things with Adam and Blaine Anderson is one of the reasons why.

Notes: Open for more prompts in this 'verse but I only intended it to be 2 parts of a two-sided story. I hope you enjoy.

Read Part 1 here

AO3

The first time Kurt saw Blaine Anderson, he was spying on the bulletin boards. He, like every other Apple, was worried about how many freshmen they could pull this semester. With a majority of the current Adam’s Apples being seniors, they needed to fill those spots with freshmen. Better to round them up this year so they’ll already have a year of acapella under their belts.

He's just standing there reading all the flyers. Kurt’s trying to look busy with his phone to not draw attention. But he can’t help but access this man.

Firstly, Kurt doesn't recognize him so he assumes this is a freshman, exactly the demographic their flyers are trying to bring in. The second thing that makes this man stand out among the others Kurt’s observed thus far is how nicely dressed he is. It is the first day of school so one would think a little effort would be put in but some boys their age won’t even put on a stain-free shirt to come to school. Luckily, most NYADA students care about their appearances, this freshman is no exception.

He’s wearing tightly fitted, dark green, capri pants and a crisp, white, collared polo.

Then his hand is reaching up to the green flyer Kurt designed.

He takes it.

YES!

Kurt tries to collect himself when he walks over to the boards. Don’t scare him away is his new mantra.

“The Apples?” He asks.

The freshman was shy at first probably because he didn’t expect to be approached. Before he answers Kurt, he does manage to meet his eyes.

Well, Kurt thought, if he sings as well as he looks the Apples could make Nationals.

In the past, Kurt would’ve berated himself for checking out guys while being in a relationship but he’s becoming less sure about Adam lately. His boyfriend is becoming a bit pushy about things like this. But Kurt isn’t about to stop doing it. If Adam really trusted him, he could see all of this was harmless.

The guy was gorgeous, no one should really blame Kurt for staring. His bowtie added a dash of adorableness, which would only draw Kurt in closer if he was single. Which he is decidedly not.

“I love to sing.”

Kurt could certainly relate. That’s how he got involved with glee clubs in the first place. Hell, that’s what got him to New York.

“Me too,” he said, “I’ll see you at auditions, break a leg.”

Only while he was walking away did Kurt curse himself for not catching the man’s name.

Before he knew it, they reached the point in the school year—day two—where Rachel was would start harassing him about “getting his name out there” and listing off all the auditions she had lined up. The only way Kurt could hear another word of this was over coffee so he dragged Rachel there before his class. This meant she had exactly 35 minutes to talk at him about it until he inevitably came home for the night and had to share the loft with her. Halfway through the conversation, he notices a finely dressed young man in line.

He’s not ashamed to admit the man’s best asset drew his attention. Though it wasn’t a difficult feat considering Power-Hungry Rachel was his other option.

Thankfully, her time was running out, “Rach, I’ll see you at home, I have Tibideaux.”

With one last look at the man, Kurt rushes off to class.

When Adam’s Apples auditions are up and running, Kurt is fuming. His boyfriend thought the perfect time to discuss their future as a couple was directly before they had to sit on their asses for 3 hours listening to a bunch of freshmen sing their hearts out.

Of course, they fought over it. Kurt was pissed about the timing, Adam thought he was being careless about their future plans because he refused to talk about it.

“I’m refusing to do it publicly when we have obligations!” Kurt had told him.

He had stormed into the empty auditorium at that point, casting aside Adam’s idea to move away after graduation for the moment, and sat in the third row. Unable to take a hint, Adam sat beside him.

Kurt was barely able to pay attention to the singers until Blaine. Once again, the man was pleasantly dressed. This time in bright yellow capris and a lovely yellow and blue bowtie. Kurt wondered if he had an affinity for them.

Adam coughed next to him, Kurt reverted his eyes. For the rest of the song, he was trying not to stare because Adam didn’t need another reason to blame Kurt for their relationship problems. When Blaine was finished, they clapped, Adam leaned in, “I’m sorry, you’re right.” In reply, Kurt kissed his cheek.

Knowing a simple kiss could smooth things over for now. They obviously had a lot to discuss.

As school picked up, Kurt mostly forgot about his little soft spot for Blaine until he was pulling a tipsy Adam off of the Lion’s Den dance floor Saturday night.

They knew their potential new recruits would be at Callbacks, Kurt wanted none of that. If they were going to celebrate the first week of classes as a couple, he wasn’t about to be interrupted by a drunk NYADA student begging to know how their glee audition went. So he was here and apparently so was Blaine.

He almost turned right around wanting to ignore the man. This is the exact situation he was trying to avoid. But Adam pulled him forward, slurring “bar’s this way.”

Kurt tried to catch his eye from across the bar but instead watched as Blaine slung his drink back and paid his tab. By the time Adam was finished ordering, Blaine was gone.

The fourth time Kurt thought he’d see Blaine never came.

Kurt had posted the Adam’s Apples list of new recruits himself. Blaine Anderson was at the top. Alphabetically speaking. Yet, he never showed up to their first rehearsal. Everyone else had come. It was difficult to listen to Adam’s introductory speech when he kept waiting for Blaine to walk through the auditorium doors.

He never did. Did Tuesdays at 7 not work for his schedule?

They sat in a circle on stage playing ice breakers, learning each other’s names and special interests in regards to their studies at NYADA.

When rehearsal ends, Adam tapped his shoulder, “you seem distracted, what’s up?”

Kurt remembers what Drunk Adam told him on Saturday and lies, “nothing, I’m fine. Just something Rachel said.”

“Well,” Adam helped him up, “don’t worry too much about her. Before you know it, you and I will be taking on the West End.”

He smiles until Adam turns away.

When Adam had first said they should move, Kurt thought he meant out of the heart of the city. Which was something he could understand. If Kurt’s dreams of starting a family someday were to be met, he saw the appeal of a move. It never crossed his mind that Adam meant to move across the ocean.

When they first started talking, Kurt loved the allure of an older man. Being a freshman at the time, Kurt had been desperate to fit in in ways he never could at McKinley. So when Adam took him under his wing, showed him the ropes of NYADA and New York, it was only a matter of time before Kurt had a crush on him. Initially, Adam was too busy for a relationship, he had told Kurt as much so Kurt keep the crush to himself...and Rachel.

When NYADA’s spring formal rolled around, Kurt was already planning on going with his roommate. Rachel had been trying him to match in a terrible shade of pink. It didn’t go well with either of their complexions. The text came in mid-argument about their outfits.

Adam: wanna go to formal?

Kurt dropped his phone. Luckily, he was sitting on the couch and it fell onto the cushion. Rachel, of course, knew something was wrong because Kurt paused in the middle of yelling at her about the tackiness of matching when they could complement each other instead.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning in to glance at his phone, “it’s not your dad, right?”

“No, no, no,” Kurt assured her, tilting his screen so she could read the message.

“OH!” she squealed, jumping up. “Tell him yes!”

“He probably isn’t asking me, just wants to know if I’ll be there.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “don’t stupid, Kurt.”

Ignoring her, Kurt texted back and slumped down.

Kurt: Rachel and I are going to go together, yes

Instantly, another text came in.

Adam: Would Rachel be upset if I took you instead?

Rachel was biting her lip excitedly. Practically dancing as she sat on the couch next to him.

Kurt: I think she’d be delighted. As would I.

The two of them did some jumping up and down together before Kurt settled back onto the couch, holding his phone to his chest.

“Guess that means I can wear pink if I want to,” Rachel said before disappearing into her bedroom.

But that was then. It had been a long time since Kurt felt butterflies in his stomach when he thought about Adam. He never thought they’d completely disappear but these last few months he felt stagnant. When he expressed these concerns to his boyfriend, Adam’s solution was, once again, to move across the pond.

Like that would solve their issues.

That wasn’t what Kurt had meant by stagnant but Adam kept going on and on about how New York may be the city that never sleeps but he couldn’t wait to get back to the excitement of London.

Kurt could never see himself moving so far away from his dad or his friends. New York had become his home these last three years. Maybe Adam always dreamed of going back to the UK but he had never told Kurt that explicitly until the start of this semester. Dating for 2 years and it never came up.

By the time they were having their fifth fight about this, Kurt knew they were going to have to break up. It was just a matter of when.

The actual fourth time Kurt saw Blaine Anderson was two weeks before Thanksgiving break.

He was sitting in a corner of the library. Sheets of music spread across his lap. Titling his head so a single black curl dangled in his face. Blaine keeps blowing the curl away to no avail. It took everything in Kurt to not laugh.

Adorable.

Kurt wasn’t really here to study. He finished up his assignments for the weekend. There was a major test next week for one of Rachel’s classes. She was in a study group and forgot her yellow notebook so Kurt offered to bring it to her.

Wasn’t it just his luck that Blaine Anderson was here? Right in his line of sight. The universe must be having fun with him tonight. He was about to go home to an empty apartment and write a breakup speech for Adam.

Kurt had plans to talk with his day over Thanksgiving break—Burt insisted on planning for his flight. He just needed someone, not Rachel, to tell him it was the right choice. For so long, Adam, being his first boyfriend, made Kurt feel like he owed it to Adam to continue this. Kurt had just reached the end of his rope.

He did end up talking to his dad about everything other than the impending breakup. In fact, Kurt couldn’t seem to get Blaine’s name out of his mouth.

“We had this really talented singer come in for auditions, dad,” Kurt said. “Blaine Anderson, he’s a freshman.”

“Oh yeah?”

This was the second time Kurt had brought this up.

“He’s going to do big things someday.”

By the fourth time, Blaine’s name was mentioned, which was a lot of times for a man Kurt had only spoken to once, Burt had something to say about it.

“You gonna ask him out, bud, or just keep talking to me?”

Kurt paused, blushed, and stumbled out a “no.”

“No what? You won’t ask him or he won’t go out with you.”

“Dad,” Kurt said, “both of those imply, I do ask him out.”

“Well, you should.” Burt shrugged. “You clearly like him.”

His dad did always know how to read him. This wasn’t the time to remind Burt of his boyfriend. Of whom, Burt was indifferent. Dating for years and Adam couldn’t seem to break down Burt’s overprotective walls.

Now that Kurt was alone in their apartment thinking of those conversations. All of them. Every single time he had asked Burt about Adam or called his dad after a ridiculous fight. How many of those conversations contain happy stories?

Kurt and Adam had loads of good times but none that he ever shared with his dad, no memories that become inside jokes, nothing like that.

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, Rachel was in class, Adam’s professor had let them out earlier, and Kurt had an empty apartment.

Kurt: let’s get coffee

Adam: Be there in ten

When Kurt came back, he was a single man in New York once again.

The fifth time, Kurt saw Blaine Anderson was on purpose. He meant to run into him in the NYADA auditorium. Kurt had asked around and found out Blaine had joined a different glee club. Amy said they rehearsed on Wednesdays and Blaine was always there a half-hour earlier to warm-up alone.

Sure enough, Blaine was center stage pacing in a circle doing one of Rachel’s favorite scales. Kurt is creeping in from one of the back entrances. Slowly, he makes his way up to the stage unsure if he wants Blaine to notice him or not.

Eventually, he reaches a moment when he has to say something. About fifteen feet from the stage, Kurt speaks up, “you’re very talented, you know?”

Blaine looks down at him, a quick smile, and blushes, “thanks.”

“We were sad to not see you at rehearsals but The Singsations benefit greatly.”

“Yeah, I felt bad about it…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but it just wasn’t going to work.”

“Well,” Kurt replied, “acapella isn’t for everyone.”

“Funny enough, it wasn’t the acapella part.”

At that, Kurt’s not sure what to say. He wants to ask what the problem was then.

“Sorry, did you just come here to ask why I didn’t join the Apples?” Blaine asked.

“Um no, Amy said you warm up here before rehearsals.” Which was Kurt’s way of stalling. “I…”

This is exactly why Kurt hadn’t had a boyfriend before Adam: he was too nervous to make the first move.

Blaine is sitting on the edge of the stage now so they’re almost level. Kurt could just push his legs apart, stand between them, and kiss him. That’s all he wants to do.

“I’ve seen you around campus a lot.” Four times.

“Me too,” Blaine said, which has Kurt smirking slightly. So he did notice him too. Then Blaine continues and knocks that smirk right off his face, “how’s your boyfriend?”

Well, Kurt should’ve expected that blow. His and Adam’s relationship was pretty well-known. In just two weeks since the breakup, Kurt’s surprised more people aren’t gossiping about it.

Honesty is the best policy, right?

“We broke up.”

“Oh,” Blaine replied, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?” Kurt asked, “because I’m not sorry at all. I should’ve done it sooner. We weren’t meant to be together as long as we were.”

“You broke up with him?” Blaine asked, confused. “But you seemed so in love.”

“A year ago, I would’ve agreed with you but one too many problems later it was never going to work,” Kurt told him, “but that’s not why I’m here either.”

“So, why are you here? I was pretty sure you didn’t know I existed.”

“I definitely do,” Kurt said, “and now it’s my turn to ask if you’re single.”

Blaine blushed again, “Not sure that’s what I meant earlier.”

“It’s what I meant.”

“I’m not seeing anyone right now, I’ve been pining after this upperclassman who was with someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah.”

Kurt took a step closer and placed his palms on Blaine’s knees.

“Well, I think he likes you too.”

Then, he pushes his legs open with no resistance from Blaine. It isn’t Kurt who leans in first though.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #klaine #my fics #not the one

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Moirai [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

➜ Words: 7k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Not bad.” The old woman twirls her the point of her quill all over your parchment, giving check marks with the flick of her wrist while you hold in your sigh. Of course, it’s not bad. You’re probably as old as she is if you count your other life. You might be in the body of a seventeen year old, but you’re smarter than one. Probably. “Fix your posture,” she barks a beat later without sparing a glance and your spine straightens on instinct. “It seems like you can move onto the next volume of philosophy social theory.” “What? Uh, I mean, pardon? I thought I was finished, Lady Devon.” “Learning is never finished. The faster you learn that, the better Queen you will make for the empire someday.” The Viscountess, the one assigned to oversee your princess training, shuts the textbook. “But we will move on next time. It’s time for your dance lessons.” You hold in your groan. On your sixteenth birthday, instead of being gifted diamonds or laced dresses from the best seamstress like any child of a duke would receive, you were shipped off to the royal palace. It was the worst present ever. And you once got soap in your other life. Ever since, you’ve been officially considered the Prince’s fiancée. Not much different from how the game was set up when the main character enters the stage. So you’ve long given up on trying to avoid this, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t happy about it. You might be free from your parents. But unlike the Devereux estate, proving your worth only gives you more to do. None of your tutors or mentors are ever satisfied with your performance. If you show your capability, then they push you further and further to see your limits. You can’t run away or swing your sword either — the tolerance in the castle is at zero. “Excuse me.” Lady Devon gets up from her chair and walks to the door with a grace that only fifty years in high society can bring you. “The dance tutor should be down the hall and coming shortly.” You hum and cordially smile. “Please, take your time.” Her wrinkled eyes pin on you until the door shuts. Only then do you breathe a big sigh, tension released in your body and your back slouching into the chair again. But you don’t waste much time getting comfortable. Instead, you jump to your feet and rush underneath your bed. In a spooled pile in the dusty back is a make-shift rope you tied from spare clothes. It took three nights to rip and weave together, but it was a surprisingly fun activity when you envisioned this moment — knotting the end around your balcony railing and throwing it overboard. As strict as the castle is, that doesn’t mean you’ll give in so easily. Even you deserve a break once in a while. An older man in a frilly jacket enters the room. His eyes dart around before they land on you out the balcony doors, standing at the other side of the marble railing. His jaw drops. Brows raise. “My lady—!” Oh shit. It’s now or never. With your eyes shut tight, you jump. Your dance instructor’s shout echoes through the palace and you peel your lids open when the impact of the landing doesn’t come. When your feet don't touch the ground. It’s then and there that you realize that you’re dangling midair, the clothing rope in your grasps. You didn’t make it long enough! Oh fuck! Fuck! The cloth rope starts to slip from your grip, between your fingertips and you brace yourself. It’s just the second floor of the castle. You’ll survive if you fall, right? Right?! Your teeth grit and your scream is soundless as you let go. But instead of slamming into the ground, you tumble on top of something much softer yet still firm. Something that lets out a pained groan, that’s quite warm. You bolt upwards and your eyes double as you realize that something is someone. By sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you’ve fallen on top of a dark-haired man and pinned him onto the ground. “S-Sorry! I’m so sorry! My deepest apologies.” You bow your head and slide off of him as he sits up while gripping the back of his head. The two of you look at one another, eyes meeting— The moment is interrupted by a shout. “Lady Anastasia!” The sprinting stomps crescendos in volume, coming closer and closer and you start to panic, not sure where to go, where to hide. But then the person in front of you reaches out, grabbing a hold of your forearm. You frown in confusion, about to shake him off until you find your fingertips becoming translucent. The palace guards slow down right where you’re sitting on the ground, yet their pupils move past you as if you were part of the stone wall. “The Crown Princess must be this way!” The parade of guards sprint past. The man lets go, undoing his invisibility spell. “You…” You fall back. “....ended up learning magic?” The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls. “So you do remember me.” “O-Of course, I do.” How could you not? There’s been only two encounters with him in the past seventeen years, but even before your first meeting, you’ve already had his name imprinted in your mind. For reasons that are perhaps not positive ones. But he looks different now — different from how he was at ten. You suppose seven years would do that to a person. Taehyung is dressed in a white blouse, darkened trousers and a navy cape embedded with gold around his broad shoulders. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was the prince. A height that towers your own. Cheeks that are no longer plump but chiselled with his sharper jawline. Eyes that aren’t impoverished. He is less like the pitiful boy than you remember him. You try not to stare for too long, but by the smirk on his face, you know it’s too late. You get up and dust your blue gown off. “Do you need a place to hide?” he asks with a small smile, catching on quick as the guards’ shouts fade. “If you are, I know just the place.” You cross your arms and look up at him. “Lead the way then.” Taehyung grins, brown irises lighting up and his lips tugging into a boxy smile that catches you off guard. But he swiftly turns on his heels and you’re left trailing behind him. The castle grounds stretch across the horizon. If someone didn’t know their way, they could get lost forever and potentially starve to death. You know Taehyung’s been largely confined to the Western towers while you’ve been managed closely in the Eastern wing. It was pure coincidence that he happened to go this way and you happened to try to escape at the exact same time. A coincidence that you left your paths and crossed, a coincidence that you landed right on top of him. It’s definitely not a part of the original story. You wonder if you should deviate from the storyline so much. The first time Anastasia and Taehyung are supposed to meet is weeks from now after he lures her in and tries to convince her that she needs his help to keep Prince Jungkook around. Taehyung most certainly did not bring Anastasia to a quiet corner of the garden, far from the stone walls, a private place that’s shrouded in trees with a welcoming white bench. “I come here often to read,” he murmurs as he gazes up at the canopy of the tree providing shade, listening to the leaves rustle. “It reminds me of someone special.” You know that person is his mother. Taehyung gestures to the bench and the two of you sit next to one another, looking out at the beds of pansies, orchids and marigolds. “How have you been?” you pipe up, curiosity nibbling at your skin. You haven’t seen him in so long. You can’t help but wonder if he’s in the same mindset as the Taehyung you know from the game — pained, lonely, blood thirsty. But you aren’t scared of him or what he might do. You feel hurt for him. Taehyung smiles to himself as if he knows what you’re thinking. “I’m fine. Frankly, I’m much more interested in your situation and why you would jump out a window and have the whole castle looking for you.” You sigh, not sure where to start. Maybe the beginning. “Actually...I’m the Crown Prince’s fiancée.” The words are muttered out of your lungs, uncomfortable on your tongue. But when you peek at Taehyung, he simply smiles, seemingly not surprised. So you inhale a breath and allow yourself to slouch. “I’m going under what they call ‘rigorous princess training’. But it’s really awful.” He grins. “Is it?” “They never give me a break,” you whine. “I’m supposed to go to dance class, but I know I’m going to step on their feet so what’s the point?” As you turn your head to look at him, you realize the game animation and drawings really didn’t do him any justice. Taehyung’s shaped up to be a handsome man. You clear your throat. “Since when did you learn magic?” “A long time ago. It’s nothing special.” He glances at you. “Although, I never had it blown up in my face yet.” His words tickle a memory in the back of your mind — the night at the Solar Festival. He smiles as your eyes connect. Taehyung gazes tenderly at you as if your irises are the most interesting kaleidoscopes, like he’s searching for something deep within your soul. Your breath hitches, heart pounding within your ears and you quickly turn away, wondering what this weird tension is. Or shit — maybe this is the beginning of the co-conspiracy that will lead you to your doom. Instantly, you stand on your feet and grab the skirt of your gown. “It was nice seeing you again, Prince Taehyung.” You bow your head and muster a polite smile. “I should get back before I get into any more trouble. I appreciate the help you have offered me today.” You spin around, prepared to strut off. But then your arm is held back. Gently. By Taehyung’s grip. You turn to look at him. “When’s the next time I’ll be able to see you?” You frown in bewilderment. It takes a delayed moment for an answer to come out of your throat. “Will you be going to the debutante ball?” The corner of his mouth turns and he bows. “I will be now.” He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles before you slip away and weave out of the gardens. For some reason you’re left with a strange feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach. // There’s a scolding of your lifetime waiting for you when you return and you muse that you finally found someone worse than Edith and your own mother. The tutors are even more brutal with their discipline and you know there’s only one person who can help you, one person you can escape to readily. “My lady,” a young girl speaks up and you stop right in front of the door. “Lady Devon said you were supposed to be studying embroidery for the rest of the da—” “Am I not allowed to visit my own fiancé?” Your timbre holds firm and you look down at the flinching girl. God, it’s just too easy to play into the villainous role that was set up for you sometimes. “And who are you to tell me what to do? I think you’ve forgotten your place!” “My apologies!” You scoff and your knuckles rap against the surface. There’s a muffled ‘come in’ and you throw open both doors. Jungkook is sitting on the sofa in front of his desk with papers in hand. He looks up expressionlessly as you strut inside. “Anastasia. What brings you here?” “I have matters to discuss, Prince Jungkook.” “Very well.” He looks to the attendants at the doorway. “Please bring in refreshments.” They bow their heads and within the next minute, a pot of tea with two cups and several tiered cake stands full of pastries and tarts are set down. The doors shut shortly after and you count. One. Two. Three. The coast is clear and you immediately flop on to the sofa across from Jungkook’s, kicking off your shoes and slumping with horrible posture into the soft furniture. Jungkook, likewise, throws down the papers in hand with a grin. “You should’ve come sooner,” he complains. “I was getting tired of reading reports and letters from advisors.” “Yeah, well, I was busy.” You lurch forward to grab a sweet fruit tart and stuff your face. Jungkook might laugh while watching you, but no one gives desserts to you in this place. Not like they did in the Devereux estate either, but at least they didn’t watch closely at every single thing you chewed. You don’t care if you can’t fit into those tight dresses. Jungkook pierces a strawberry on top of the cake and chews in his cheek. “I heard you ran out on princess training again.” “Hey. The last time I did that was months ago. Plus, you’re not the one to speak. You’re the lucky one here. Why do you get to do whatever you want and I can’t?! It’s so unfair!” “That’s because two days after you came, you dueled me and won. What kind of Crown Princess wins in a sword fight over the Crown Prince?” You burst out laughing. No one really expected you would win. They were already horrified when you held the sword. You suppose they’re just trying to get rid of those rumours and make you into a dignified, soft-spoken, honourable lady that will win over the public with her gentleness. Yeah right. Like that’s gonna ever happen. “You should’ve just been better. You’re the Crown Prince.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and it’s because of you that I had to go under more training with the royal knights until it felt like my bones were going to fall off,” he mutters and you snort. The two of you devour the table like children starved on sweets and once you’re full, you lay down on the sofa as if you’re a stuffed pig ready to be roasted in an oven. Jungkook smacks his lips together and eats the last strawberry. “Are you at least ready for the debutante ball?” “It’s just dancing.” You turn to look at him. “What’s there to prepare for?” The ball happens every other year for the girls in the empire as a coming of age ceremony. It’s a celebration that everyone looks forward to. But for you, this year, it signifies the beginning. “You better not step on my toes,” Jungkook warns. You scoff. “You better not step on mine or else I’ll throw a ladybug at you.” “That was one time!” he yells and you laugh. You gaze at the ornate, painted ceiling of the study. Jungkook doesn’t know that the debutante ball is the start of everything. It marks you turning eighteen. It’s where the game begins and where he’ll meet the heroine. It’s where the gears will set in motion. You’ve long given up on trying to run away from the storyline. Perhaps it was when you came to regret being unable to prevent Taehyung’s mother’s death. Maybe it was when you turned around at the Solar Festival and decided to sit by him. But whatever the case, you decided to stay and fight, to find a way to survive instead of escaping. It still startles you when changes are made that are so different from the original game, when it deviates far out of your reach and control. But one of the biggest changes and probably the best is your relationship with Jungkook. Unlike Anastasia’s, you and him are not just polite on the surface. There isn’t a wide distance. You don’t yearn for him. He doesn’t disregard you. Rather, you’re friends. And you hope that fact doesn’t change. That he never becomes an enemy. From here on out, all the efforts you’ve put forth for the past seventeen years will finally come to fruition and show its effects. You hope you tried hard enough.

The dress is a deep wine red. The layered tulle skirt poofs out in the shape of a bell, spilling from your waist. You turn around in front of the mirror while picking at your translucent sleeves, noticing that the fabric sways with each of your movements. Your hair is in a half-updo with flowers, pinned up as curls drop over your left shoulder. It’s better than what Joan could’ve ever done back at the estate. But altogether, it’s a magnificent yet imposing look. You gotta admit, in this get up, you feel like you could cackle and step on the main character’s hand with your pointed heel as she cowers in front of you. Being the villainess is the easy way. “My lady…” the younger servant steps back with the tape measure. You nod at her. “It’s acceptable. There’s no time to dwell either way. The Prince’s fiancée shouldn’t show up late.” “Of course!” The entourage of servants follow as you stride down the castle halls. The muffled violins become clearer the closer you get to the main ballroom and there at the doors, Jungkook’s already standing there with a cordial smile. He wears a navy jacket with golden buttons, trousers to pair and white gloves that matches the sash over his body with the royal emblem. The maids bow their heads, taking their place at the sidelines and Jungkook offers you his arm which you take. The pair of you stand in front of the doors. “You actually look decent for once,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth. You scoff quietly. “I’ve always been this beautiful.” “You always look like you’ve just rolled in mud or hay.” “And you’re beginning to sound like Lady Devon.” Jungkook snickers as you jab him discreetly in the ribs. At the same time, the squire finally makes his announcement — “His Royal Highness and Lady Anastasia!” — and the doors open. Your expressions wipe over with only the corners of your mouths pulled and you enter together. You make sure your back is straight. That your head is raised. Chin out. Steps light. Every scrutiny and detail about perfect posture is displayed right into your body language and the pair of you stop momentarily at the stairs with your plastered smiles. Everyone watches as you both descend the stairs. It’s quiet — some older women awed behind their feathered fans, men sipping their glasses of bubbling champagne. But their gazes are loud as Jungkook guides you to the middle of the cleared floor. Nearly eighteen years of lessons have led up to this moment. Jungkook kisses your knuckles and you slip into position — right hand in his, your left on his shoulder as he mimics you. The mellifluous violins in the corner start to crescendo and you follow Jungkook’s lead, stepping from side to side, back to front. “Looks like you’re not stepping on my feet,” Jungkook murmurs as the two of you begin to take bolder steps and sweep across the ballroom floor. “I might’ve skipped dance every chance I got but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do it.” “Touché. Just keep smiling.” “I am.” “You look too concentrated.” With his criticism, you fix the furrow of your brows and your smile tries to widen. It feels a bit stiff and psychotic, like you’re forcing yourself to pretend you’re Rose from Titanic who went with Jack to dance when in reality, this is as fun as watching paint dry. “Better?” Jungkook grins. “Sure.” The music continues as you dance, but while you maintain your bright expression, your eyes flicker through the thick crowd. You spot the King who sits in a grand chair at the back. He nods along with an approving expression and your parents are standing by him too. Your dad seems to be getting a comment in every other minute while your mother appears wholly satisfied. You’re happy at least someone’s enjoying this debutante ball. But you don’t look at them for long, not when you’re focused on searching for a girl you have yet to see in the flesh. The main character. The heroine of the game. You know she’s in the room tonight. You know she’s watching right now. Yet, as your eyes travel through the surroundings, instead of trying to find the girl, your mind strays for someone else — Taehyung. He said he would be here tonight. But you don’t see him… “Anna, it’s over,” Jungkook mumbles and you snap back to attention, giving a curtsy. The Prince bows as well and the music continues to a jovial tune. The people around start to enter the floor, dancing with their partners and from your peripheral vision, the King approaches. He’s gotten old since the first time you met him. Each strand of his hair has turned gray, wrinkles deepened and eyes slightly protruding. Yet the man is still dignified and the righteous King of the empire with his commanding, aristocratic presence. But you wonder if he aged so quickly because of the Queen’s sudden death years ago, an event you know shook the Royal family. “Your Majesty.” You curtsy again, pulling the edges of your dress. Jungkook smiles. “Father.” “Very well done job, you two.” He smiles. “I’m confident that the pair of you will lead this empire well.” “Thank you, Your Majesty.” You smile cordially at the older man. “You’re too kind with your words. I can only hope that one day we shall live up to your legacy.” He laughs merrily from the pit of his stomach and even though you and Jungkook both know you’re laying it on thick, there’s no harm done. “Spectacularly spoken. I’m sure you will.” The King turns to his son. “I heard you were managing the finances in the Southern provinces well.” “I was actually going to seek council on that issue,” he exhales and in the meanwhile, you notice a few potential ladies-in-waiting looking at you. You try to ignore them, but their stares are too pointed. They’re outright gawking at you and you grit your teeth, knowing there’s no other choice. “If you’ll excuse me.” You dip down and the King nods. As Jungkook continues talking to the King, the both of them striding to his throne, you’re trapped in small talk. “I believe we’ve met once before. I am Countess Ashburnum.” — “I am Lady Herington, my husband is Baron of Herington.” — “Oh my! You absolutely look beautiful in your gown.” — “I know a seamstress who makes the best lace dresses in all of Ashea!” The conversation drones on and on with the circle of women and you make short replies while maintaining a friendly smile. It’s only when your eyes boredly wander off do you notice a girl eating at the refreshments table. She’s out of place. You can tell with how her eyes dart around the hordes of people and she fidgets alone, dressed in a yellow dress that looks like it’s been sewn from sunflower petals but worn at the hem as if it’s someone else’s. But as unremarkable as her presence is, her features are soft — eyes rounded, lips pouty and cheeks full. You’re beginning to understand how someone can be described as lovely as a rose. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s some few other people I need to meet.” “By all means.” The ladies dip down and you nod your head, beelining through the people to the refreshments table. But it’s hard to get through with the amount of people that want to stop and greet you. You watch the girl in the meanwhile. You don’t blame her for appearing so awkward, like she’s not sure where to go or who to talk to or what to do. If this is who you think it is, then she’s just a baron’s adopted daughter. She hasn’t been to many social events. She hasn’t been exposed to high society. And it’ll be a world that’ll be difficult to adjust to. You remember in the original game, Jungkook just chose her because she looked out of place and he wanted to get away from dancing with you. But considering your relationship with Jungkook isn’t sour in any aspect, a catalyst might be needed to continue the plot. If you start the encounter, then perhaps you’ll have control over it. “The desserts are delicious, aren’t they?” you pipe up beside her, stuffing your cheek as you look out at the crowd. The girl is taken aback at someone initiating a conversation and her excitement is practically tangible. “Yes, they are! I like the strawberry cream one.” “Ah. I’m more of a fan of the fruit tarts.” You turn and meet her eyes with a smile. “What’s your name?” “My name is Lucienne, but my family calls me Lucy.” “Your family?” “The Helena family. My father is Baron of Liza,” she says and that’s enough to confirm it. This is her. The heroine. The main character. The one who will take your place, become the Crown Princess and be with Jungkook. And if such a thing is inevitable, then you can make her perception of you different from how it was in the original game. Just like you did with Jungkook. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then.” You curtsy and she does as well after a delayed moment. “My name is Anastasia Loretta Devereux.” Her eyes widen. “You’re the Crown Princess! Oh my goodness, I just watched you dance! It was amazing.” You smile and this time, it's more genuine. The heroine’s personality traits are dependent on the player, but it looks like in this world, she’s pretty excitable, extroverted and innocent. If you weren’t so secretly tense, you’d muse that you might actually make a good friend tonight. “Thank you and thank you for coming. I hope you’re enjoying the ball.” “Yes, I am, your grace— I mean, my lady.” “Please, you don’t need to be so formal with me in private,” you tell her even though she insists otherwise. The conversation starts to slow and you scramble for ways to continue it. How did you use to get girls to like you back in school? What the hell did you use to do again? The answer comes a second later— “I love your dress.” Lucy’s eyes light up and she looks down. “Really? I actually sewed it myself.” That revelation has your eyes turning into saucers and your sociable facade falls. “What?” “It’s not much,” she giggles. “The servants were taking down some dusty curtains back at home to replace them, but I thought it was such a waste, so I washed it and hand sewed it myself. I was afraid it would look shabby for tonight’s ball.” “N-No, it’s amazing!” She looks like she’s straight out of a fairy tale. She is straight out of a fairy tale! Even Snow fucking White would feel outdone. “You have some real talent.” You wonder if the girl sings to squirrels in her spare time. You wouldn’t put it past her. She beams. “Thank you.” The violins seem to dial down into a waltz piece and several more people enter the floor with their partners in hand. You turn to Lucy with a smile. “You should dance.” “Oh, well, I’m not much of a dancer.” She brushes a strand of her hair loose from her bun behind her ear. “And I wouldn’t know who to dance with either…” You hum and at the exact same time, someone with doe eyes unsuspectedly passes by. You steal the opportunity when it’s handed to you— “Jungkook!” The Prince turns at the familiar call of his name, one without any title to it. His brow is quirked and you take Lucy’s hands, pulling her along with you as she remains stunned. This is it. This is the first meeting. For you, it’s like you’ve dragged your best friend down the school hallway to talk to her crush. But for them, you wonder if it’s a life-changing moment. One of the ones where time seems to stop and fireworks are bursting in the air and their breaths hitch and their hearts sycroniz—…. Probably not by the confused look on their faces. But you’ll take it! “Prince Jungkook, meet Lucienne. She’s Baron of Liza’s daughter and she goes by Lucy.” You turn, hand gesturing out towards him. “Lucy, meet Prince Jungkook.” “N-Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” She curtsies and you can feel her nervousness by the way her hand shakes in yours. “Likewise.” Your fiancé turns to you with a skeptical brow raised. “Seems like you’ve made a friend tonight.” You plaster on a big smile. “I know right.” He and you both know you don’t like to play nice and hence, don’t have friends at all. So it’s an oddity for you to bring around someone you met five minutes ago. But you don’t let Jungkook ask too many questions. “You should dance with her.” “Pardon?” “Why not?” You push the girl towards him and she nearly stumbles into his frame. “Ball’s are all about dancing and Lucy here’s looking for a partner and I know you have to get that practice in!” By the narrowing of his eyes, you can tell Jungkook’s suspicions of your intentions or what could possibly be up your sleeve. You wish he was as dumb as he was seven years ago. “Anastasia.” “Umm...I really don’t have to, Your Highness.” Lucy bows her head, placed in an awkward position and you internally apologize to her, but you gotta do what you gotta do. “Come on,” you continue to pressure Jungkook. “You’re not going to leave her hanging, right?” Jungkook exhales out of his nose and he looks like he’s not going to let this go so easily, but for now, he relents. He bows slightly and takes Lucy’s hand. “Will you have this dance, Lady Lucienne?” “Yes…?” Okay. It’s not a storybook, fairy tale moment or anything like the game, but this is as good as it’s going to get. This way, your engagement with Jungkook can smoothly end, Lucy will take your place and you’ll be able to survive in peace while supporting them like a secondary character instead of the villainess. With your arms folded, you stand at the sidelines and watch them dance together. It’s stiff at first, but soon, Jungkook’s murmuring something to her and she’s laughing. They look like the picture perfect couple. Even others are nudging each other and watching the pair. A smile tugs on your features, but your observation as an audience member soon is interrupted. “Would you like to dance, my lady?” It’s a husky timbre, one that startles your senses and has your head whirling around. You didn’t know you were waiting for him until he appeared, until a feeling of ease that you didn’t know existed washes over you. Taehyung has his arm extended, a tender smile on his face. His dark brunette hair is combed to the side and he’s dressed in a black jacket with a navy cape draped on his left shoulder, not any less handsome than the others in the room. The corner of your mouth curls. “If you don’t mind me stepping on your toes.” Your hand slides into his palm and he grasps your fingers. “I don’t.” If Jungkook and Lucy had eyes straying then you and Taehyung have eyes turning — most don’t know who he is when he’s never shown up to any social engagements, but few do and while they’re shocked, already whispering tales of scandal, you don’t notice. You’re far too mesmerized by him. By the fact that he’s here, that he’s looking into your eyes, guiding you along the ornate ballroom floor. The skirt of your dress sways as he twirls you carefully, the two of you synchronized to the rest of the dancing crowd. “I didn’t think you would show up,” you murmur once you’ve landed back into his arms again. “Were you waiting for me?” “I decline to answer.” The corner of Taehyung’s mouth tickles into a smile. “Well, looks like it was a good thing you skipped out on that dance lesson since you obviously didn’t need it.” You grin, scoffing lightly. “That’s because you’re a good lead.” “You’re a good partner,” he replies as the music diminuendos. You wonder since when the pitiful boy you knew became so sly and mischievous. Or maybe he was always this way and his mother’s passing simply made him quiet. “And of course I would come if you were here.” Your brow lifts. “And why is that?” Taehyung hums. “Let’s just say, I’ve been meaning to get a chance to speak to you for a long time now.” You wonder what he means. If he’s simply planning to build rapport to conspire with you. But your relationship with the royal family and Jungkook is known to everyone as being decent. The Taehyung in the game also never went out of his way to meet Anastasia either. It was always her. Anastasia’s choices led to her being used as his pawn. Taehyung breaks your train of thought as he leans in close to your ear, “I’m always scared of getting you into trouble, but you can’t when everyone’s here. We can chalk it up to a coincidence that we met and danced, right?” “That’s the bastard’s son, isn’t it?” Your ears suddenly tune into the murmurs, words hidden behind gloved hands and feathered fans. If people didn’t know Taehyung before, word was spreading like wildfire. “The one who was born from that maid.” “You mean the King’s first son?” Your head turns when there’s a heavy set of eyes placed upon your form and you realize the King is sitting on his throne, expressionless. He’s staring at Taehyung who hasn’t noticed, or maybe has and yet chose to ignore. Taehyung’s right. A ball like this is truly the exception. The only time you and Taehyung would ever be able to meet in public. His eyes meet yours once more and you realize the reason Taehyung never sought you out. He never looked for you because he was afraid of what that would mean for you. How the slander and hatred of his name would attach to yours. The dance ends as the turmoil inside of you overboils. Your mouth parts to speak, but Jungkook approaches and interrupts. “Taehyung?” The younger brother has his eyes wide and the older smiles. “Good evening, Your Highness.” Jungkook laughs. “What’s with that? Actually, no, what are you doing here? You never come to these things!” Maybe because he’s not allowed to. You haven’t seen the half-brothers interact before. But you wonder how much Jungkook really knows about Taehyung — probably not a lot based on what you know in the original storyline. The two brothers had to fight each other to the death in a civil war. Jungkook came out victorious. And knowing that future makes you feel queasy as you look at the both of them being friendly together. “I just thought it was time to change that.” “You should’ve appreciated not having to go for longer. These things can be so boring. You’re honestly the lucky one,” Jungkook says. Taehyung’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Am I?” “I wish I was in your shoes sometimes,” Jungkook sighs and turns to you. “Anna. Anna? Anastasia!” You’re startled, brought out of your trance and Jungkook grins. “I was going to ask you how the dance was.” You loll your head to your shoulder. “Taehyung’s a better lead.” Jungkook’s jaw drops in offence and he scoffs. “He’s probably too nice to say anything badly about you.” You roll your eyes and glance to his side, wondering where the main character went. Lucy should be here or at least beside Jungkook. Or maybe something went wrong…. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highnesses.” You bow, eyes already set off on the crowd. You don’t notice Taehyung reaching out, brows lifted, expression distraught that your moment together was so short. But by then, you’re already gone. You look around, searching for the girl in the soft yellow dress. But instead, your arm is yanked back roughly. You spin around to meet wrinkled but stern gazes. The ones that can only belong to your parents — the Duke and Duchess of Devereux. Even if you’re in the castle now, you’ll never be able to be free of them. They pull you out to the hall and into a nearby private room meant for quieter conversations for the guests. The doors shut and the silence simmers tensely around you. You muster a smile. “Mama, papa, how have you bee—?” There’s a sharp sound that echoes throughout the empty space and you’re shaken, breath staggering when you find your head whipped to the side. Your right cheek is numb. She just….slapped you. You turn to her, voice shrill. “What was that for?!” “How could you dance with that man?” “What?” “Did you know you could ruin your entire marriage by associating with the likes of that man? Everything you’ve worked for, Anastasia, everything that your father and I set up for you and the Devereux house could be ruined.” Her voice sends chills to your spine, quiet, deadpanned and yet full of venom. “Do you know who he is? He’s the bastard son. Do you want to get on the wrong side of the King? Or are you trying to show that you favour him as the next heir instead?” “What?” They’re jumping leaps and bounds, thinking ten steps too ahead. “Do you know how much trouble that would cause?” Your father pipes up behind her, his voice low. “It could get the entire family executed for treason.” From the corner of your eye, you see your mother’s hand raise again. But you clutch her wrist before she has the chance to slap you another time. “Once is enough,” you spit through gritted teeth. “You don’t want people outside to know, do you?” She yanks her hand out of your grasps. “Ingrate. If you’re not careful, everything the family has done for you will be gone in an instant. Don’t you know everyone in that room is watching your every move? You are the only heir of this household. You are the Crown Princess. The future Queen. Every decision, every choice, from what food you choose to put in your mouth to what colour you decide to wear, it affects not only yourself but everyone.” You know. You know the burden on your shoulders better than anyone else. But is one dance with Taehyung not even allowed? Your mother rounds the table and sits down on the sofa. “Not to mention, you allowed another whore to dance with your fiancé. She’s just a measly baron’s daughter. There’s no royal blood in her.” “Neither does our family have any,” you mutter. The Duchess whirls her head around in absolute shock. The Duke is the one who intervenes, level-headed yet stoic. “You must be the Crown Princess, Anastasia. You must keep that status and causing the King to be unhappy will do nothing to help.” “There are other ways to stabilize our family status,” you reason with him. “I don’t understand—” “No matter how talented you are,” he says slowly as he paces to your mother’s side, “even if you can wield a sword better than most palace knights, this is the only way.” Your staggering breath inhales through your mouth and out your nose, frustration, torment suffocating. You want to leave this place. Leave the castle, leave the Devereux name, leave these duties burdened onto you. The scrutiny that comes along with the wealth and power. You want none of it. You might be Anastasia. But you’re also Y/N. Wanting to survive and living a long and fruitful life was your goal even before this lifetime. And as selfish as it may be, you cannot fulfill that wish while maintaining your parents’. You can’t. You can’t fight to be the Crown Princess if you want to live. You can’t see yourself into old age if you’re executed. You can’t keep Jungkook close and Taehyung at a distance. You can’t run away, but you can’t ground yourself and stay either. Everyone! Everyone wants something from you, everyone is expecting you to play some kind of role — daughter, survivor, saviour — and you don’t know what to pick and choose. What decisions to make and how to make them. And because of this indecisiveness, the half-hearted middle ground, you couldn’t save Taehyung’s mom. “It’s because of your narrow mindedness that you’ve pushed yourselves to only one option.” You turn and leave the room, slipping away before they can say another word. If you choose happiness — the happy ending of Jungkook and Lucy with your survival and support, an ending where you will be able to stand in the background, the Devereux house will fall. If you choose to follow duty and selflessness — you will die and ruin their name anyway. You’re not so sure why it’s so hard to make a choice. In the original game, the Duke and Duchess cut ties with you anyway. They threw Anastasia away when she needed them most. But even with that resentment, it still hurts. You exhale, escaping to the terrace and leaning against the stone wall to look up at the stars. Your own words echo back to you and you wonder if you’ve narrowed yourself down to only two options. You wonder what other possible way you can have it all. If it’s even possible…. Or what fate has in store for you.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fluff #HALFWAY MARK!!!

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joyfulsongbird · 3 years

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sooooo. I wrote a Thing. all credit to @defilerwyrm for the concept of the mighty nein getting consecuted based on their connection to the beacon and credit to @mightymightynein for coming up with the idea that because molly died in proximity to the beacon, he would then come back in another body. none of these ideas are mine, I just couldn't resist writing out a little thing!! thank you both for your great ideas <3

ao3 link!!

Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes.

Not quickly, not all at once, but he wakes nonetheless. It does not feel like coming to, nor is it really the idea we all have of snapping awake one day and coming to the realization that you are not where you belong. He is born again, and born with the name Enna. He is a purple skinned drow, which pleases him that even in the next life he still has a lavender hue to his skin. He looks at himself in the mirror, once he comes to the realization. He looks at his features and tries to rearrange them into something he knew years ago, he imagines this face with horns, these brown eyes with red ones. It is strange, to look at what he knows is himself and it feels correct but at the same time, like something is missing. He grows used to the idea: his name is Mollymauk, he was a member of the Mighty Nein, he died and now he lives again. He does not know why but it takes time in order for him to fully come back to himself.

One night, after he is able to differentiate which memories are from his present life and which ones are from the last, he disappears. He had not been very attached to the family in this present life, they were distant as many parents were and even before his realization, he looked forward to the day he got to spread his wings and leave the nest. This just… pushes things forward a bit. He wraps an enchanted cloak around himself that would protect him from the sun (one that he had stolen months ago, old habits die hard), as that is something he has to worry about now, and sets off into the first adventure of his second life.

He walks and sorts through the memories in his head. Remembers their faces, their voices, the things they did, the way it sounded when they all laughed. On his travels, he purchases a deck of tarot cards. They are not his cards, not as elegant or artistic as the ones he used to own, but they feel good in his hands. His fingers slowly remember how to shuffle the deck, how to flip them between his fingers, and make them disappear, then reappear as if he had snatched them from behind somebody’s ear. He remembers, and it feels wonderful to be able to be a whole person.

His travels are long, he is only going on foot, and he only has so much money. To earn some coin, he gives tarot readings in bars and on the street just like he used to. People goggle at him, differently than they used to. Drows are not all that common, he finds, and it is especially not all that common to find a teenaged drow sitting in a bar with a grin on his face, telling an old man his future with as much confidence as somebody triple his age. As is his nature, people are drawn to him. He had forgotten the electric feeling that buzzes through his whole body when he is surrounded by life like this. It’s a wonderful thing, to feel alive even when you have died twice. And since he has experienced being lifeless twice before (only one of which he can remember his last breath leaving his body), he wants to experience it all again. Nothing wrong with that.

Months go by and he finds himself in Port Damali. He does not know where he is going nor does he have a destination but hopes that someday, fate will shove him near the Mighty Nein again by chance and he will be able to brush sleeves with them in this life too. He sits in a tavern, like he does every day, and tells a young woman that someday her spine will stop aching and that she needs to work less and that she’ll have at least three children. She grins at him and he grins back, already scooping up the three cards she had picked out and is waving his hand absently for somebody new to sit down.

“Do you read tarot cards ‘cause I really, really love tarot cards and I can read them too, you know? You read mine and then I’ll read yours, okay?” it takes him a moment, as he looks at the tiefling sitting across from him. She’s older now, wiser around her eyes but still just as bright in her smile. She’s dressed for the area, in what one could only ever describe as classic pirate garb. Molly smiles at her, his chest aching. It almost pains him to see her again, in this way where she does not recognize him. She leans forward eagerly, legs kicking back and forth under the table. She hasn’t changed.

He clears his throat, not prepared to let his thoughts get the better of him. “Of course! Here, pick whichever cards call to you. Three of them, if you please.”

She happily chooses three, placing them face down on the table all nice and even. Before he can turn them over, she leans in very close. She narrows her eyes at him, “do you know my name?” He laughs, loud and clear. “Let’s see if the cards tell us that, hm?”

Satisfied, she leans away, watching as he flips over the first card. He considers the card for a long time, and Jester watches, enraptured. “You’re a kind soul, aren’t you?”

She nods vigorously. Molly taps his chin in faux thoughtfulness. “You love to draw, am I correct?”

She gasps, “how did you know that? I do!”

“The cards told me.” he says, as means of an explanation. He flips over the next card without further analysis. “Ooooh, interesting. You should not let doubt plague you, you’re far too important to those around you to let those skills go to waste. Don’t hold back, let your chaos run free, my dear.” “That’s what I always say!” her voice rises in excitement and they get several odd glances from surrounding patrons. “You’re so good at this, oh my god!”

He simply smiles, before flipping over the final card. He forces a frown and Jester leans forward again, glancing rapidly from his face and back down to the card. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve lost things,” he says. “But don’t worry, you will find that not all is lost forever. Jester.” She jumps to her feet, her face alight with joy. Joy. He grins. He had been right, then, when he had named her card that.

She runs a small ways over to another table and grabs somebody's arm, dragging a familiar half-orc all the way back to Molly’s table, her words nearly incoherent out of excitement.

“Fjord, look, look! Tell him what you said, tell him what you saw in the cards- I told you, Fjord! It was the coolest thing, he knew my name, he knew it! I swear, look! Look at the cards!” she bounces up and down, her words strewn together as she points at the three cards laid out. Fjord looks down at them, then glances up at Molly who shrugs as he gathers up his deck and slips them back into his bag, finished for the night.

“I don’t know what they mean.” he says helplessly. Jester rolls her eyes, grabbing Fjord’s hand and then grabbing Molly’s.

“I want you to teach me! I’ve been practicing for-ever and I can’t get that good.” She grabs him and Fjord back to the corner table that Fjord had been sitting at by himself. She forces them both to sit.

“Jester,” Fjord says before she can get comfortable. “Could you grab me a drink from the bar?”

“Okay!” she doesn’t seem to question why, just bounces over to the bar and leaves the two of them in silence.

“How did you know her name?” Fjord asks gruffly. “I know it’s not because of the cards. Are you a spy of some kind? Seem a little young to be a spy.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” It takes him a long stretch of quiet before he can even come up with the words. It hasn’t quite felt real up until this moment, up until he was faced with the ghosts of his past who aren’t actually ghosts. They are very much alive, only aged and more weathered than he knew them last. As he explains, as briefly as humanly possible, he watches Fjord’s eyebrows raise higher and higher. His eyes grow wide and fists clench on top of the table. Mollymauk knows it sounds insane, it doesn’t sound real, by anybody’s standards. There’s an uncomfortable pause after he’s done speaking when neither Fjord nor him know what to say. They are interrupted (maybe “saved” would be the correct word) by Jester returning with Fjord’s drink.

“Why so quiet guys?” she asks.

Fjord opens and closes his mouth, his face paler, “we need to go see Essek.”

#critical role #critical role campaign 2 #mollymauk tealeaf #jester lavorre #fjord #cr fjord #this is not my best work but I loved writing it so I thought id share!!!

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

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songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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

Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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holidaywishes · 3 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: Can I request a fic where Auston is in love with the reader but so is Freddie and the reader has feelings for Fred so they date in secret as to not hurt Auston but he finds out when he catches them together or something 😅 *edit* would it be possible to make the reader really shy and quiet and possibly a little bit innocent and Fred thinks Auston only likes her because he wants to corrupt her or something like that

Warning: fluff, angst

Author’s Note: So, I decided to do this in kind of a “timeline” set up. So we start with them all meeting each other and then see how Auston fell for the reader and how Freddie and the reader started a relationship and how/why they decided to keep it a secret which made the fic REALLY long. About three quarters of the way through, I thought about splitting it up but didn’t so... it’s just really long. ALSO! I’m pretty sure credit for this GIF goes to @moto-leafs but I originally found it on Google Image Search and that link took me to Pinterest so I could be wrong. If I am, please correct me! But I mean, look at that GIF -- so much anger, I had to use it. Lastly, I just want to point out that I know nothing about the Raptors or basketball in general and, to be honest, I have no interest in learning anything about it. I apologize if the players I referred to are not good players or that they’re not actually currently on the team (I looked up the Roster and just randomly picked names.) Lastly, to anon, I already had most of the fic written when you sent in your ask so I’m not sure if I was able to completely fulfill it. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Stay Golden, loves! <3

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Auston’s P.O.V

The Raptors game was disappointing. It started out great but late in the third quarter, they gave up their lead and ended up losing by 20.

“Well...” Freddie sighed, “what do you wanna do?”

“Ugh,” you groaned, “I don’t know , I j--” Your attention was stolen by the scent of coconut passing you by and you tried to find who it belonged to, your eyes landing on a group of girls giggling near the exit. “Follow them” you said under your breath

“Huh?” Freddie replied, drawing your attention back to him

“Sorry,” you said before quickly making your way to the group of girls that held your attention, “follow them.” You repeated to Freddie as your feet began to move

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he laughed, “we can’t just go following a group of girls. That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

“Then let’s go talk to them...” you sighed, “that’s all I meant. They just smell so damn good...”

“What?” Fred scoffed

“Just.. follow me.” You came up behind the girls, listening to them laugh with each other, and leaned down to greet them. “Hi,” you said happily, standing up straight when they turned to you, “I’m Auston. This is Freddie.”

“Hi,” one of them said, “I’m Lily”

“Shirley,” another introduced herself before laughing, “my parents were big fans of Shirley Temple”

“Gabby” another said with a smile

“Tracy” the next one greeted and you were soon met with the eyes of the last girl of the group. Catching the scent from earlier and waiting for her to speak

“Hi,” she smiled shyly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you both...”

“We’re sorry for just.. kind of stalking you guys,” Freddie chuckled, “we just wanted to say hi. And see if you wanted to join us for some drinks?” The girls looked back and forth between each other before Lily agreed for all of them

“We’ll grab our own ride and follow you there?” she said

“Or we could all just walk over” you suggested

“Well...” Gabby chimed in, “what bar are you taking us to?”

“There’s a place called the Loose Moose. I’ve heard it’s a good vibe”

“It’s a short walk” Tracy said

“And it’s not too cold out” (Y/N) added with a shrug

“I like it. It’s like we’ll have bodyguards” Shirley joked

“Alright then! I guess that’s settled” Lily laughed, gesturing for everybody to head out the exit.

“So what’s the plan here?” Freddie asked in a whispered tone as the two of you followed behind the group of girls, staying close so you didn’t lose them

“Don’t really have a plan,” you replied, “just thought we’d hang out...”

“That’s it?” he scoffed, “you’ve got no thoughts?”

“What did you have in mind?” you chided

“Nothing,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in defence, “I just thought that you’d have something in mind. You know... since you were the one who wanted us to ‘follow them’”

“Like I said, I just thought we’d hang out. Have some drinks, laugh a little. No ulterior motives” you confessed. You both listened to see if you could hear either of the girls talking about you, trying not to be too obvious, but when (Y/N) turned her head to look at you, you both jerked your heads away; watching her smile before whispering something to her friend.

“So...” she started, “why us?”

“What do you mean?” you asked with a smirk, catching Freddie watching you as she spoke, leading you to train your eyes forward

“Oh come on!” she scoffed dramatically, “don’t think that we don’t know who you are. We’re not dumb enough not to realize that you’re Auston Matthews and Frederik Andersen of the Toronto Maple Leafs” she smiled as she gestured enthusiastically, keeping relatively close to the two of you, your arms rubbing against each other every so often. “But why did you pick us? Why did you come over and ask us to get drinks with you guys?”

“Fair enough,” Freddie smiled, grabbing her attention before you could, “we couldn’t help it. We saw you all from across the room and we got a little... entranced.”

“Entranced?” she giggled, turning her body ever so toward Freddie, “really, that’s what you’re going with?”

“Yeah, I think it is” Freddie smirked. You watched as the two locked eyes, leaving you to direct them through the crowd, never feeling like more of a third wheel in your life.

It was strange, to you, that two professional athletes would want to take you and your girls out for a drink but then you thought to yourself: five of us, two of them, they’re probably just playing the odds. So, when Lily agreed to go to the bar, you couldn’t exactly think of a reason to say no.

“They’re cute!” Shirley whispered to you as you walked arm in arm down the sidewalk

“Are you planning on making a move?” you smirked

“Maybe,” she replied, “are you?”

“I don’t think so” you smiled. You weren’t really the flirt of the group, you usually left that up to Lily and Tracy, and you were almost positive they were the reason Auston and Freddie approached the group anyway. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be a wing woman for them or get some answers for yourself. You looked back and caught the two laughing between themselves before jerking their heads away as if not to be caught by you, “hey, I’ll be right back okay?”

“Mhm...” Shirley hummed teasingly and you dropped your arm from hers and fell back to where the boys stood

“So...” you said as you tucked yourself between the two of them, “why us?”

“What do you mean?” Auston replied with a smirk

“Oh come on” you scoffed, switching your gaze between the two of them as you continued. “Don’t think we don’t know who you are. We’re not dumb enough not to realize that you’re Auston Matthews and Frederik Andersen of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” you smiled as you confessed something you knew they already knew, feeling Auston’s arm graze against yours every once in a while as the three of you continued walked pretty closely together. “But why did you pick us? Why did you come over and ask us to get drinks with you guys?”

“Fair enough,” Freddie smiled and you couldn’t help but be drawn to him, “we couldn’t help it. We saw you all from across the room and we got a little... entranced.”

“Entranced?” you giggled, turning your body to his, “really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “I think it is.” You tried not to stare at him, even when you heard your friends laugh or when you felt Auston’s hand on your back to direct you away from oncoming traffic on the sidewalk, but you couldn’t help it; he had you hooked.

Freddie’s P.O.V

The entirety of the night was spent trading shots and expressing how deeply disappointed you all were in the Raptors

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY GAVE UP THEIR LEAD SO EARLY!” Gabby exclaimed

“I can’t believe Davis missed that shot!” Shirley added

“Lowry was off tonight,” Auston sighed, “ruined the entire game”

“Now hold on,” (Y/N) interjected, “you can’t blame it all on Lowry.”

“I can’t?” he asked, raising one eyebrow and you shook your head before smiling

“It’s a team sport,” (Y/N) continued, “Watanabe and Siakam should’ve helped out their man.” You finished your beer before asking the group if they wanted another drink and everyone seemed to be empty

“Here,” Freddie called out as you walked away, “let me help you.” You placed your hand on the small of her back to let her know that you were there. As you waited for the bartender to take your long list of drink orders, you decided this was your chance to get to know her a little better, “so.. what do you do?”

“For work?” she asked, “I’m a social media content curator...” she rolled her eyes at her title

“I take it that’s not what you want to do?” you smiled and she shook her head

“No...” she sighed, “I went to school for interior design but, because I’m a millennial, everyone thought I knew what I was doing online. Spoiler alert: I have to use Google for everything I do in my job because I have no idea what’s going on” she laughed. “But I have so much student debt and the job pays well...”

“What do you want to do?” you asked

“Like what’s my dream job?” she replied and it was your turn to nod for her to continue, “I-- someday, I want to have my own company. I want to be able to design spaces for luxury hotels and million dollar homes while also breathing life into non-profit organizations like homeless shelters and food banks...” she got so excited explaining her dream that you could only watch in awe as her eyes sparkle as she shared her ideas. “I’m sorry...” she blushed, “am I talking too much? I’m talking too much, I’m sorry”

“No no no!” you exclaimed, stopping only for a second to finally order the drinks for the group. “Don’t be sorry,” you continued, “I like hearing you talk. I like hearing you get all excited, it’s exciting for me” she chuckled at your confession before walking ahead of you back to the group, sitting down across from her friends and you grabbed the open seat next to her.

“Thank you” she smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear so you could still see her face. The night continued with more alcohol, more talking and a little bit of dancing and you kept getting closer and closer to (Y/N) but when you got too tired to keep dancing, Auston stepped in. You watched as they laughed together, swaying to the music before (Y/N) let her head fall back onto Auston’s chest, stopping when the music changed; Auston making his way toward you quickly as (Y/N) stayed back with her friends

“You should back out there,” he smiled, wiping off the sweat from his brow, “everyone’s having a lot of fun” he said as he looked back at the girls. There was a look on his face that you could tell meant he was falling for her, “god she’s somethin’ huh?”

“Who?” you questioned dumbly, hoping that he’d say someone else

“(Y/N),” he scoffed, taking a sip of water, “I mean look at her!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the girl you’d begun falling for. “That smile, that hair, the way she moves her hips. I mean, I could swear she was testing me out there” you had to stop yourself from getting offended on behalf of (Y/N), but the way Auston was talking was starting to infuriate you

“I didn’t think she was your type...” you mumbled

“She’s not, not really,” he smirked, “but I’m allowed to have a little fun. Plus, she looks so innocent... I like that”

“So, you just want to corrupt her?” you scoffed

“Corrupt her? No way!” he said, “I just wanna see how innocent she really is”

“So, you’re just gonna fuck and chuck? Really? You’re gonna be that guy?” your anger had gotten the best of you and you just snapped

“Whoa,” he replied with a chuckle, holding his hands by his shoulders in defence, “there’s nothing going on with you two right?” You looked back at where (Y/N) was on the dance floor, bopping with her friends and laughing with the people around her, before looking back at your friend and teammate. What were you supposed to say? No, I’m not into her. I don’t find the way she laughs hypnotizing. I don’t find her passion exciting. I don’t think she’s sweet. Or funny. Or smart. I’m not into her. Of course not. But of course, that would be a lie, “Freddie? Hello?..”

“Sorry...” you said, shaking your head, “have you asked her out?”

“No,” he admitted, “but the way you’re acting, I guess I just thought I’d make sure nothing was going on before I did...”

“No, nothing’s happening” you strained a smile, looking at (Y/N) before continuing, “ask her out. See what she says. See if she’s as innocent as she seems...” he smiled at you and patted you on the shoulder as he finished the water in front of him, shifting in his seat as the girls came back to the table.

“HEY!” they all exclaimed, the alcohol clearly taking effect; (Y/N) sat beside you and you tried to not get too close; leaving space for Auston to make his move. The look on her face proved that she wasn’t happy with the way you were suddenly treating her; only to be confirmed when she followed you to the bathroom

“WHAT THE HELL?!” she yelled, pushing into the bathroom and locking it behind you

“What are you doing?!” you yelled back quietly

“Why are you all of a sudden ignoring me? You’ve spent the entire night getting close to me and getting to know me and now you just decide, meh, no, I’m over it? Did you finally decide I was too boring for you? Oh, sweet little (Y/N), she’s too nice for what I’m looking for...”

“That’s not what’s going on...” you tried

“No?” she questioned, getting closer to you as she spoke, “then what is going on? Tell me, I wanna know”

“Auston,” you sighed, “he wants to... ask you out”

“So...” she huffed, “he can ask but I won’t say yes”

“Why not?” you asked

“Because, I want you to ask me out, dummy,” she laughed, “I wouldn’t have followed you in here like a lunatic if I wasn’t interested in you!” You held your breath for a second as you took in what she said, closing the space between you quickly and pushing her against the wall, letting your lips move in sync with hers. Your heavy breathing filled up the space as you were forced to pull away from each other due to the sounds of drunken bar-goers banging on the door

“He can’t know about this...” you said, adjusting your shirt and fixing your hair, “Auston” you clarified.

“I know,” she replied, wiping away her smudged lipstick from your lips before looking in the mirror to adjust herself, “don’t worry. It’ll be our little secret.”

1 Year Later

When you and Freddie started dating, you agreed to keep it a secret because it was so new that neither of you wanted to screw it up but, truly, it was a wonder that you and Freddie had never been caught, by anyone, much less by Auston with the way you two were constantly touching each other in the smallest of ways or flitting off to be alone together.

“Maybe he’ll be okay with it?” you asked between kisses, continuing the conversation you’d had with Fred about Auston earlier, “it’s been a year...”

“He won’t be okay with it,” Freddie chuckled, moving his lips to your neck to leave trails of kisses over your skin, “he talks about you every time he sees you, every time you leave the room” you groaned in reply, distracted by the feeling of his tongue against your skin.

“Why do you want to tell him so badly?” he asked, pulling away suddenly, his hands lightly on your hips, and scrunched his eyebrows together

“I hate sneaking around...” you admitted, “I love you, Fred, but I hate lying. We’ve all become so close and the more time that goes by, the more he’ll feel like we betrayed him”

“Is that what you think?” he asked and you nodded, pouting in response, “no matter when we tell him, he’ll think we betrayed him. Because I told him I wasn’t interested and then I lied; he asked you out, you declined, he still decided he’d try to get you to fall for him”

“So what do we do?” you sighed

“We keep doing what we’re doing,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his chest, “don’t get caught.”

“What happens when we finally do get caught?” you questioned, cocking your eyebrow

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it...”

“Freddie...”

“What do you want me to say?” he threw his head back, dropping his hands from your waist to run them through his hair, “that, in order to throw Auston off, you should go on a date with him?”

“What?” you scoffed, “you really think that would work?” you leaned in and whispered, seriously considering the option

“I wasn’t serious!” he exclaimed, raising your arms in annoyance

“I don’t want to use him,” you said, hopping down from the counter where you were, “but maybe if we go on a date and he realizes that we’re not.. compatible, then he’ll drop it and we’ll be able to be together. Honestly. Without hiding.”

“(Y/N), baby,” he smiled, “you don’t need to worry about using him. Or being compatible. He’ll find a way to make you compatible so he can use you”

“He’s not going to use me...” you scoffed

“Yes he is” he scoffed back

“I don’t think so” you teased

“Baby, you forget. I know him. He talks to me. He told me what he wanted from you the night we all met,” you confessed, “Plus, he’s charming... He’ll find a way to get exactly what he wants without you realizing he’s doing it”

“You’re charming,” you smiled, grabbing his waist and pulling him close to you so you could wrap your arms around his neck, “way more charming than him”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t been with him one-on-one...”

“Then maybe I should,” you teased slightly, curling his hair with your fingers, “you know, just to prove you wrong?”

“Fine” he said sternly, pulling away from you. “Let him ask you out. Let him do exactly what he wants with you. Just so he can say he had you ‘cause that’s all he wants.”

“Freddie,” you chuckled, “It’s not like I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“You better not” you placed your hand on his cheek so he would look at you, smiling when you saw his sad puppy dog eyes

“I love you” you whispered before he leaned down and kissed your lips

“I love you, too.”

Auston’s P.O.V

You had been asking out (Y/N) for months. You couldn’t understand why she would be hanging around so much if she wasn’t interested but you persisted and she actually agreed

“Really?” you said quietly and she nodded in response, scrunching her eyebrows together with a sympathetic smile, “I mean, great! I’ll pick you up... Friday at 8″

“Perfect, see you then” she smiled before hugging you goodbye and turning on her heels. You spent the rest of the week trying to prepare for the perfect date but you weren’t even sure what that looked like

“Just take her somewhere nice,” Freddie suggested as the two of you sat in your living room, playing NHL20, “I wouldn’t put too much pressure on it”

“I don’t think you understand Fred,” you laughed, “I have been trying to get this girl to go out with me for an entire year. I’ve never worked this hard just to hook up with someone before”

“Why are you working so hard? It’s not like you’re hoping anything comes of it right? You just want to hook up with her because of the way she danced with you one night a year ago...” he pried

“No,” you replied, “but I’ve never been with someone like her”

“Someone like her?” he repeated and you furrowed your brow

“A nice girl. A sweet girl. An innocent girl..”

“You're really hung up on her being innocent aren’t you?” he asked

“Wh-- do you know something I don’t?” you laughed, “just tell me where I should take her”

“I don’t know...” he sighed, dropping his face in his hands, “just go somewhere casual... somewhere you can wear jeans and a t-shirt”

“You seem annoyed.. why are you annoyed?”

“I’m not annoyed.. I just have a bit of a headache. Look, just take her somewhere low-key. You’re not trying to impress her so you don’t need to work this hard. That’s it” he replied, standing up and walking out as the screen lit up to tell you that you won and you celebrated loudly, unbothered by Freddie’s departure. When Friday finally came along, you took (Y/N) to an outdoor patio for some drinks since the weather was getting a little bit nicer before eventually heading over to Tilt to play some games. The two of you were having some friendly competition and laughing with each other

“I can’t believe it’s so late!” she exclaimed, noticing the time on the clock on the wall, “we’ve been playing games for almost four hours!”

“No no, hold on,” you smirked, “you’ve been playing games. I’ve been dominating at every turn!”

“Oh yeah sure, hot shot,” she smiled, smacking your arm playfully. “Seriously, I think we should probably get going...” she whispered and you thought that this was your chance but she flipped it on you, “I promised my Mom I’d meet up with her -- she’s going through something at work...”

“I’m sorry to hear that” you said, rubbing her arm softly before catching her eyes dancing across your face. It felt like a moment that begged for a kiss but when she turned her head away, you had to let it go, “I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks” she smiled before walking ahead of you toward the exit of the arcade. The ride home was silent aside from (Y/N)’s phone going off every five minutes or so

“Everything okay?” you finally asked, not wanting to intrude

“Yeah, sorry...” she sighed, “it’s just my mom. Trying to figure out when we’re going to see each other”

“I can take you to her place, if that’s easier?” you said

“No,” she replied, placing her hand on your knee briefly before pulling it away, as if she caught herself flirting and had to stop herself, “no that’s okay. I told her we’d meet at mine so she could get out of her house, but thank you.” When you pulled up in front of her apartment building, (Y/N) smiled over at you, “thank you, again, I had fun tonight...”

“Let me walk you in” you insisted and she agreed. You walked her to her door and stood there silently. Maybe this was just a ruse, you thought to yourself, maybe she wanted you to follow her inside. You leaned in and she hesitated, taking a breath before her eyes opened wide and danced between yours, before she took a tiny step forward. There was something in the way she looked at you that made your mind go completely blank and your body take over, connecting your lips with hers and leading her against the wall by her door. You let your hands wander from her neck to her waist as the kiss began to heat up and you could feel her breathing increase, leaving her chest heaving when you moved to kiss her neck

“Auston...” she breathed, pressing her hands into your shoulders, “Auston...”

“Should we go inside?” you smiled to yourself before continuing to kiss behind her ear

“I think we should stop...” she confessed

“Come on..” you replied, “your mom isn’t really coming over is she?”

“I just can’t... don’t think we should do this” she said, stumbling over her own excuse

“You don’t have to act so innocent” you smiled, leaning back down to kiss her neck

“What?” she said, pushing you away from her so she could look at you, “I’m not trying to act innocent. I just think we should stop. We had fun tonight, it was a good date but it doesn’t need to end with sex...”

“If it was good, why wouldn’t you want it to continue?”

“I--”

“Why would you lie?” you interrupted, starting to get angry

“Please don’t get angry...” she whispered, almost pouting at you, “I just didn’t want to give you the wrong idea when I said it was late. That’s all...” You huffed at her reasoning before shrugging and turning to walk back to your car, looking back at her as she took a deep breath and walked into her apartment.

You were surprised at how much fun you were having. You expected Auston to take you to just invite you to his apartment so you could Netflix and Chill so he could make the move that Freddie was so convinced he was going to make, but when he took you to an arcade you were pleasantly surprised. The night was going really well, so when you noticed that it had gotten so late you realized you had to find a way to end the date but the only thing that came to your mind was to lie and say that your mom needed you. Auston seemed to be accepting of it and drove you home but Freddie kept texting you on the ride home and it started to raise flags to Auston

“Everything okay?” he asked

“Yeah, sorry...” you sighed, “it’s just my... mom. Trying to figure out when we’re going to see each other” you lied, replying to Freddie’s frantic texts asking what was happening

“I can take you to her place, if that’s easier?” he asked

“No,” you said quickly, placing your hand on his knee involuntarily before pulling it away to not give the wrong impression, “no that’s okay. I told her we’d meet at mine so she could get out of her house, but thank you.” He finally pulled up in front of your apartment building and thanked him, “I had fun tonight...”

“Let me walk you in” he offered and you agreed, thinking it was sweet, but unsure of what to say as the two of you walked to your door. He seemed to be fine with the silence, so you kind of just followed his lead before finally getting to your door, smiling at him awkwardly as you both continued to stand in silence. You noticed him lean in and you took a quiet breath, hesitating before you noticed how much closer he had gotten to you; becoming almost a deer in headlights as your eyes flitted between his. You unwittingly took a tiny step forward and his hands moved to your neck before his lips crashed into yours as his body directed you against the wall. His hands snaked down to your waist and your breath began to build in your chest as you felt the kiss begin to heat up. You found yourself thinking about Freddie, knowing that he knew where you were and who you were with and what he believed Auston’s intentions to be; but you couldn’t help but fall into his slow kiss, dragging your hands up his arms until they rested on his shoulders. This wasn’t supposed to happen, you thought to yourself, the date was supposed to end like this, he was just supposed to walk you to your door and go...

“Auston...” you said through heaving breaths, “Auston...”

“Should we go inside?” you could hear him smiling before he continued to kiss your neck and you shook your head pathetically

“I think we should stop” you said, still breathing heavily and pushing your hands into his shoulders

“Come on,” he smirked again, looking at you quickly, “your mom isn’t really coming over is she?”

“I just can’t...“ you stumbled, “don’t think we should do this”

“You don’t have to act so innocent” he whispered as he leaned back to lay kisses on your neck

“What?” you said angrily, pushing him away from you so you could finally see his face, “I’m not trying to act innocent. I just think we should stop. We had fun tonight, it was a good date but it doesn’t need to end with sex...”

“If it was good, why wouldn’t you want it to continue?” he questioned

“I--”

“Why would you lie?” he interrupted and you could tell he was starting to get angry

“Please don’t get angry...” you pleaded quietly “I just didn’t want to give you the wrong idea when I said it was late. That’s all...” He huffed at you before turning on his heel and walking away from you; you composed yourself to unlock your door and head inside.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!” Freddie yelled as soon as you walked in the door

“Freddie?” you said, “what are you doing here?”

“I heard the two of you out there... kissing...” he admitted, “I knew he’d make his move”

“I don’t need this right now, please, just don’t” you sighed

“What’s wrong?” he replied, more sympathetic now as he followed you to the couch, kneeling in front of you to comfort you

“This was a mistake,” you admitted, “if we had just been honest with him, I wouldn’t have had to lie to him about all this. And he wouldn’t have made a move on me...”

“Baby,” he whispered, “this is my fault, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to letting you go out with him...”

“He was so mad, Fred. Like I could feel him seething” you sighed

“He’ll be fine,” Freddie said, “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, tell him the truth” you frowned at him, unsure if that was the right move, but you wrapped your arms around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. “I love you” he whispered in your ear before pushing the hair away from your face and kissing your eyelids gently, earning little giggles from you before you pecked his lips. It wasn’t long before he was drawing you close to him, your chest tight against his as he kissed your lips passionately

“I love you” you smiled when he pulled away from the kiss to remove his shirt, picking you up after he connected his lips back to yours, letting his tongue part your lips as your fingers played with his hair. He held you against the wall to remove your shirt, smiling at you biting your lip, leaning in to kiss you when the door flew open

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Auston yelled

“Auston” Freddie yelled in surprise, putting you down gently and you frantically tried to cover your bra-clad body

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to hide yourself behind Freddie

“Is this why you wouldn’t invite me in? You already had someone inside?” he snarled, “I can’t believe I was so gullible, you’re really not innocent at all!”

“HEY!” Freddie yelled, stepping closer to his teammate but managing to keep you covered, “that’s enough! You never saw her as a person, only as a conquest. Stop being a dick.” You could feel Freddie’s muscles tensing in his arm as you held onto him, preparing for what Auston would say next

“Me? I’m the dick?” he scoffed in return, “she’s the one who’s going through us like candy wrappers!”

“STOP IT!” your boyfriend continued to yell

“I get it, Fred,” Auston smirked, “I mean I finally get it. You wanted to have something before me, that’s why you kept telling me not to try to sleep with her. You wanted her first. I get it.”

“Watch it” Freddie growled

“But now that you’ve had her, I think it’s time you drop the act. Let me have a turn...”

“ENOUGH!” you finally shouted, stepping out from behind Freddie, “you two are ridiculous. Auston, I’m sorry that I upset you but Freddie and I have been dating for almost a year now. I thought--”

“We thought” Freddie corrected, forcing you to look back at him

“We thought if I agreed to go on a date with you, you’d drop it and then we’d be able to come clean with you. But I didn’t expect you to kiss me...”

“You kissed me back!” he replied angrily

“I did,” you admitted, “I got caught up in the moment and I shouldn’t have but it doesn’t change anything. You don’t get to have a turn with me, I’m not a toy and you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that way” you waited for either of them to speak, but they remained silent. “I think you should both go. You can fight it out if you want, just not here.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)” Freddie whispered and you squeezed his outstretched hand in reassurance

“Just tell me one thing,” Auston sighed, looking between the two of you, “is this real? I mean, are you sticking around or are you gonna wait until someone else comes along?” You looked at Freddie once, a smile creeping across your face

“I love him,” you confessed, still looking at the tall, ginger man behind you, “it’s real for me”

“It’s real for me, too,” he replied with his eyes locked on yours until he finally looked at Auston, “I love her. We love each other. You weren’t supposed to find out this way but we didn’t know how to tell you...”

“You’re sure?” Auston asked, “that you both feel the same way about each other?” you both nodded before Freddie wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and kissed your temple. “Alright,” he sighed, dropping his head, “then I guess I’ll.. leave you to it” he forced a smile and walked out the door, leaving you feeling like you had to chase after him

“Auston, wait,” you called, “I really am sorry about all this”

“I know” he said

“You really were trying to play me though weren’t you?”

“At first, yeah,” he laughed, “but somewhere along the way, I realized you were too sweet to be played. Maybe it was the outfit you picked or the makeup you wore or the way you looked at me... or the lie you told...” he smirked when he remembered what you told him. “I don’t know what did it but I lost my nerve”

“You didn’t lose your nerve when you decided to kiss me” you teased

“Sure I did,” he scoffed, “because when I was kissing you it became about feeling you close to me and not... trying to get in your pants” you smiled at his words, feeling a tinge of heat rush through your body to your cheeks as if you were embarrassed

“For what it’s worth,” you finally said, “if you take a girl you actually like, not one you’re just trying to mess around with, on a date like tonight -- she’d be lucky to have you” he smiled tightly, his lips pressed together as if he didn’t really believe it, and continued making his way down the hallway. You hoped this wouldn’t cause problems between Fred and Auston but you were just happy the secret was finally out.

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ask-iamnotanalicorn · 3 years

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Previous: The Flim Flam Timeline

The Wasteland Timeline:

This is the story of when Equestria fell.

And this it the story of when Equestria rose again.

The trials began as they always do: with the return of Nightmare Moon. The celestial sisters clashed, and Celestia fell. Heedless of the struggle it would be to keep the Sun set with its alicorn princess banished inside it, Nightmare Moon did just that, determined that her traitorous sister experience Nightmare’s punishment.

Nightmare’s reign of Equestria was strained, but Equestria could have borne it. But within a year, the capital was attacked by the Changelings, desperate to replenish their stores of pony love that had been stymied by the nation’s state of fear and uncertainty. Nightmare Moon was barely managing to repel the threat when the Crystal Empire returned, and King Sombra began to march on her northern borders. With attacks from within and attacks from without, a distrusted leader on the throne, and economic failure rippling across the country as readily as the shifting front lines, the ponies of Equestria were more torn than ever.

So of course that’s when Discord escaped.

The upside of Discord’s release was that it temporarily stopped the fighting. Even King Sombra was smart enough to withdraw in the face of the mad draconequus on a quest of vengeance against all ponies. Queen Chrysalis and Queen Nightmare Moon (who had absconded herself at first sign of Discord’s escape, using every possible trick to keep him from finding her) formed a temporary peace treaty in order to seek a solution - for a world ruled by Discord was useless to all of them. (Granted, the Changelings could withdraw to their protected realm, but Chrysalis had tasted power and wasn’t about to let Discord have it all. She was quite looking forward to stabbing Nightmare Moon in the back afterwards.)

Their solution: a magical contract with the long-imprisoned centaur, Tirek. Tirek was more than happy to oblige. He single-handedly decimated Sombra’s troops, gorging himself on the magic of Crystal Empire and Equestrian ponies alike. It is possible that, if Discord hadn’t come to see what all the fuss was about himself, Tirek would have kept right on gorging to the very limit of the contract that bound him.

When the two titans clashed, the battle that ensued sundered hundreds of miles of landscape. Canterlot bore the greatest brunt; the castle collapsed completely from its cliffside home, the city little more than ruins. Discord’s attacks spread wildly unpredictable waves of chaos magic across much of Equestria. And when at long last Tirek had defeated him and sucked him dry, the lingering effects of that chaos magic stayed rooted in the ground like weeds.

It seemed, for the briefest moment, as if the worst problem was over. But of course, a power-maddened Tirek is a worse threat - because at least Discord doesn’t go out of his way to destroy everything in sight. Drunk on chaos magic, Tirek easily broke the tenuous contract with the queens and set across the landscape, draining ponies by the thousands and carving swaths through the countryside for the sheer wicked joy of destruction. His power was even mighty enough to destroy the changeling hive, overpowering its magical protections.

There was no choice - the two remaining rulers of any species in the land had to either defeat their own creation or face the loss of all they held dear. Nightmare Moon called upon the power of the Moon itself, drawing it nearer to Equestria in a desperate gambit. Tidal waves rocked Equestria’s coastlines, submerging Manehattan and other coastal cities entirely, and the alicorn of the night shone with deadly moonlit radiance as she bombarded Tirek with the full brunt of her power. But even Nightmare Moon at the height of her power was not strong enough to stop Tirek at the height of his, and he struck her down against the surface of the Moon itself. Some of the dislodged chunks rained down on the world, damaging more of not only Equestria, but many other countries on that side of the planet.

Tirek seemed to have won; all he had left to deal with was one small, angry changeling queen. An assured victory, no doubt.

He could not have known how wrong he was. For a changeling might give its magic willingly to a spell like Tirek’s with no ill effects, but an unwilling changeling queen will not be robbed of her power easily. As Tirek’s powers drain magic, so changeling powers drain love - and no one in all the world had such self-love as Tirek. The cycle of Tirek draining her magic and Chrysalis draining his became a self-consuming spell spiral that ultimately imploded upon itself, taking both creatures with it.

The resulting explosion could be heard across the celestial sea. For a few moments, there was something like an artificial sun on the horizon - a sun that had set directly on Equestria.

Then came the silence. After three years of war, devastation, and disasters unlike any the world had ever seen, there was silence.

And as the silence stretched, the survivors stirred.

Earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns, crystal ponies, and zebras; yaks, cows, goats, donkeys, and buffalo; gryphons, dragons, hippogryphs, minotaurs, and changelings: in spite of everything, many had survived. They rose from their hiding places to find an Equestria and Crystal Empire in ruins. No major cities still stood; borders and coastlines were unrecognizable. Large swaths of land once green and lush were barren and blasted, and spots of chaos magic lay in wait for creatures unwise enough to enter them unprotected. The moon hung wrecked in a dark sky, shining in shattered glory down on the devastation that had been the once-rich land of Equestria.

But the great destroyers were gone. None of the titans and tyrants who had brought this destruction down on the country remained. The usual monsters hardly seemed a threat anymore; those who had survived thus far had learned to cope with far worse. They could build new settlements, make new ways of life, come together or fall apart on their own merits.

And the most hopeful sign of all came the next day. The first actual day since Nightmare Moon returned and the Thousand Days of Woe began:

The Sun - weak and red in the dust-filled sky - slowly rose over the horizon.

The Princess of the Sun had not returned yet; perhaps she is still trapped by her sister’s spell. Perhaps another way of escape is being laid. But the light fills the ponies’ hearts with hope.

The Equestria they knew is gone. But the New Equestria has a future.

____

Sunday, Aug.10, 4 A.C.

Dear Journal,

It’s really strange dating things this way; but with everything that’s happened, most folks agree it’ll be easier to date our calendars starting with the fall of Princess Celestia. ‘After Celestia’ sounds so grim, though; kinda hope we change it. Maybe when the Princess returns... we’re praying she does.

Anyway, I still can’t believe we found a whole stock of blank paper in the storerooms! We’re saving most of it for bartering, but Mom thinks it’s smart for one of us to make notes for posterity, so it looks like I get to keep you. I’ll try to be short to save space, but it just feels so good to write again!

The move into the Canterlot ruins ruins is going pretty well. A few other families joined us after our last trip to Apple Fort, and we’ve shored up our defenses in case the air pirates make another flyby. Pop and I negotiated a deal with the Apples - food in exchange for books. A few of the unicorns know replication spells and are using some of the paper to make copies of really important texts so we don’t lose valuable knowledge to an accident. It still blows my mind how much we’ve lost in... was life really normal only a few years ago? It feels like another lifetime that I was in this very city, talking to the Princess, sitting at a normal cafe... eating lunch with Cam and Press...

I don’t want to forget them. Camera Shy and Pressing Matters, my best friends. Maybe they’re still out there somewhere. We run into old friends every now and then - my old traveling salespony gig has come in handy, actually! I’ve found a bunch of people who used to be clients, it really helps with forming trade and peace treaties with other groups. So it could happen. Please, Prince, keep them safe wherever they are.

I’m really blessed, though. I have to remember that. I have Mom and Pop and Black and Per and Chewie - although I’m still not used to Chewie flying and talking now. She’s such a character. Lots of ponies are missing family - so are we, we haven’t been able to find most of the extended family, but Pop got word from Aunt Pitter that she and my cousin Light Drizzle are out west somewhere, and Pitch Apple is down at Apple Fort, thank the King.

And we could be worse! We made friends with a tinkerer named Steam Punk, he made me a new wing that works as good as my old one! (Not a HUGE bar to cross, but it’s still really impressive!) I’m talking him into working with me to start a production house that can make and sell them affordably to other handicapped pegasi. And Mom got her flight back thanks to a gem Black and some other mages crafted. I think she still misses her diving mark, but she’s so brave and optimistic, it really inspires everyone. I wish we could do something for Pop’s horn, but he’s finding other ways to help out. Per is... well, I guess if you’re going to get turned into a pony-dragon, you’d want to be as cheerful about it as Per. Who knows, maybe she’ll still get a cutie mark someday! And Black is fully aware that he looks pretty boss with an eyepatch, the dork.

There’s rumors that Princess Cadance might be alive and organizing the crystal ponies up North; lots of ponies are heading that way, but I think our group will stay here. There’s a lot of resources in the Canterlot ruins and in the castle, although Black leads the expeditions into the castle because of safety issues. I never knew he was so good at exploration and such; guess there were a few skills he was holding out on us over the years, but turns out he was working for the Princess before! What in Equus, I gave him such an earful for being all secretive about being my bodyguard or whatever.

I’m running out of page, so I’ll wrap up today. We’re holding a worship service later, Pop and Parson Brown are setting it up. We want to keep focusing on what we have to be thankful for. We are GOING to get through this. The King, the Prince, and the Advocate have not abandoned us, and we have each other.

~Salespitch

----

Fun Facts About The Wasteland Timeline:

- This was my favorite timeline to draw =D I HAD to get some steampunk stuff in there, although there are definitely Mad Max vibes. The convenient thing about this timeline is that it was a literal blank slate, so I could really get creative with it! I feel like this would make a neat bookmark, what do ya’ll think?

- I tried to reference all the major villains in the picture. Extra shoutout to ReversalMushroom, the patron who sponsored this Alternate Timeline Special, for giving me the ideas for the changeling goo and Tirek’s hoofprints, which were added in during the coloring phase. I think they round it out quite nicely!

- The random bit of Candy Forest over the crevice there is one of the pockets left behind by Discord’s chaos magic going wild. Most ponies avoid it because here’s WEIRD stuff in there, and ponies who go in there usually come out a little weirder themselves.

- Black lost his eye and half his sunglasses in a fight with some Changelings. He gets on quite well with only one eye, though, and he insists his sunglass-lens eyepatch is going to be the height of eyepatch fashion. (He DOES have a sense of humor in case anyone doubted it. ;) ) Black taught everyone basic survival techniques and does most of the more dangerous tasks.

- Sales lost his wing during Tirek’s rampage; he tried to distract Tirek, but they didn’t have time to make the plan from the Tirek timeline, so he got swatted pretty quickly. On the upside, Tirek lost sight of him and didn’t get his magic. Sales can fly about as well now with his new steampunk wing, which combines technology and magic to mimic low-level pegasus flight (which was where he was at anyway, so he made a great first test subject!) Sales’ main job is negotiating peaceful trades with other groups.

- Sales Patter (Dad) lost his horn while pushing his wife out of the way of some falling rubble. He insists he was only mediocre at magic anyway, and he doesn’t need a horn to do business! He does miss it, though. He helps their new community with allocating resources.

- Pitch Forward (Mom) lost her magic and cutie mark to Tirek’s onslaught. The gem in her coat simulates flight for her, although not quite at the level she was before. She and Sales joke about how he can almost beat her in a race now. She helps with the kids in their small community and teaches flying techniques to pegasi.

- Pitch Perfect got hit with a random blast of Discord magic that turned her half dragon. It took a little getting used to, but she honestly thinks it is super neat. She’s pretty good at sniffing out gems now, which (when she isn’t eating them) helps with family finances. Her friends Codebreak and Castle Crasher are part of their little community, and the three are constantly getting into trouble (which most everyone silently thinks of as a nice bit of familiarity.)

- Chewie ALSO got Discord’d; she has fairy wings now and she can talk. Chewie still likes Sales the best and hovers around him chattering like Navi half the time. The other half of the time she forgets she has wings and just hops around exploring. At this point she’s become less like a pet and more like another tiny sister, to Per’s delight and everyone else’s raised anxiety levels. She is VERY aware of her surroundings and alerts the group to intruders and strangers. She really misses computer games.

- Princess Celestia will eventually return, although by that time I feel that the various groups gathering together will have formed something like a decent society again. It remains to be seen if they’ll go back to a monarchy, create a government of connected micronations, or turn into something like the United States.

- And yes, Camera Shy, Pressing Matters, and Press’s husband Curler are all alive. They’ll meet up someday!

---

A/N: Thank you all for joining me on this journey through time and space to explore the seven MLP timelines and where Sales & Co might have ended up in them! I hope you enjoyed it; I had a good bit of fun coming up with the different scenarios, it was a great brain exercise. =D Thank you again to all my Patrons, and to ReversalMushroom for sponsoring this particular special! There will be a final post next week of all the pictures together, with links back to their storyline posts.

I also want to thank you for bearing with me as the regular updates continue to be on hiatus. This has been a rough and strange year for all of us, and I hope you all are safe and healthy and know that you are loved. Jesus has really been with me through this year, and even tonight as I write this; there are things I struggle with, but I know that they do not define my value, HE does. =) And I, like Sales, want to count my blessings, the biggest one (aside from my faith in God) being that I have family around me who love me and care for me. I’m very much looking forward to Christmas! =D

Merry Christmas! May your Christmas and New Year contain joy and peace, and may Christ Jesus rest His hands on you and draw your heart to His. In Jesus’ Name, amen.

~River Babble

#mlp ask blog #pony ask blog #tirek #sombra #nightmare moon #Queen Chrysalis #mlp discord #IANAA #Salespitch

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tiashe · 2 years

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Long good-bye, my honey - Requiem 10. Wedding Ring [Summary]

Very sorry for the very late summary! I was busy with finals and other personal business… But that’s all done now, so I hope you enjoy reading about last month’s chapter!

Also, I wasn’t sure where to mention this so I’ll just leave it here: on New Year’s Eve, Amemiya mentioned on Twitter that Ichihara has been sick for a long time. She’s been getting better though, so that’s really good to know! This can perhaps explain the abrupt ending of Battle Rabbits and the long disappearance of our dear senseis. Amemiya has also mentioned that A-chan, their little Pomeranian, got hospitalized recently. She’s gotten better as well, thankfully. I’m assuming that’s why we got a side chapter in November instead of chapter 10. Let’s all hope that Ichihara, Amemiya, their lovely pets and plants, and all of you guys will be super healthy and happy in 2022!

<- Side Chapter | Requiem 11 ->

We see a man with one arm, who describes himself as a returned soldier, trying to hitchhike but failing. After the cover page, he is shown gazing at an art piece by Felicia Lake, one of the youngest and most renowned artists of the Odysseia empire. It’s a mural on a giant rock with a big symbol and about ten birds on it. Next to him, we see Rose and Vansheld, who are admiring the mural as well. Vansheld says that this piece, “Wings of Hope”, is one of the 30 murals wishing for peace. They are found scattered around towns that were ruined during the war. Rose says that the mural is very pretty, and that she can feel the strength of the artist’s prayers just by looking at it. The soldier greets Rose and reveals that the artist is his lover. He says that she wasn’t famous at all before the war, but the whole empire has finally noticed her talent now. Rose says that his lover must be very precious to him, which flusters the man, but he later realizes that she is actually his ex-lover, since they broke up when he left to fight in the war. When he returned, he couldn’t contact her. We see a small flashback in which Felicia is working on a painting, and the man comments on how much she loves drawing birds. Felicia says that birds give her courage and make her feel like she can fly anywhere she wants. Back in the present, the man lovingly rests his forehead on the mural.

Rose asks the man if he’s also on a “mural pilgrimage trip”, and he says yes. If you go towards the direction the birds are facing in each mural, you can eventually reach the final one. Rose asks if he would like to travel together, and he gladly accepts her invitation. He introduces himself as Frederick.

The trio enter a town, which Rose thinks is very lively. People start approaching her and inviting her to their shows, and Rose is too confused to know how to react, so Vansheld hurriedly rushes towards her and gets her away from the performers (07-Ghost kapitel 27 memories, anyone?) Frederick asks if Rose and Vansheld are on a date, and Vansheld says that they definitely are not. Rose explains that she is searching for her sister, and is visiting the places she had said they should see together someday. Frederick says that he hopes they can meet up.

Vansheld clears his throat and asks Frederick what one should do on a date, not that he’s interested or anything, he’s just curious. Frederick says that, personally, he likes to see pretty sceneries when he’s on a date. Rose isn’t listening to this conversation at all since she’s busy receiving a balloon from a clown.

The gang walks in between a herd of sheep, who trample Vansheld. Rose tells him that walking around like this makes her feel like she’s alive again. Vansheld says that she feels that way because they’re not in the past nor the future, just in the moment. They see a large rainbow and Rose cheers. Frederick says that they sometimes talk to each other like they’re dead.

They find another large mural and see that the birds are facing south. Frederick is about to head that way, but he feels like his feet have gotten heavy. Rose asks why he broke up with Felicia despite loving her so much. Frederick says that it was because he wanted her to be happy. He suddenly smells sea water and sees a long road on a hill, which he remembers seeing before. He remembers that he once took Felicia to a beautiful beach just beyond this hill. The waves of the sea, the clouds in the sky, the flowers around them were all white, and Felicia laughed like she was really, truly happy. It felt like everything was sparkling, like they were destined to be there. He remembers taking her hand and saying that, although they haven’t even prepared rings yet, they should hold their wedding ceremony there. He wonders if the last mural is on that beach.

Frederick falls to the ground and Rose asks if he’s okay. He can’t move his body, and he can’t figure out why. Vansheld says that the reason he can’t go to the place he’s always wanted to reach is because his feelings of regret are blocking the path that leads to her. We see another short flashback in which Frederick learns that he can’t have kids. He feels like he will be stealing Felicia’s happiness away from her, because he knows that he can’t give her the warm family she’s always wanted, and that he doesn’t know if he’ll return from the war in good shape. He looks at the ring he’d prepared for her and thinks that he’s grateful he learned about this before she gave it to her. When he tells Felicia to have a happy life with someone other than him, she can’t understand why he’s saying that. She says that she will wait for him to come back, no matter what, crying as she hugs her sketchbook. In the present time, Rose holds Frederick’s hand, saying that she, too, is scared of wanting to be loved. Even so, it’s okay to keep loving and wanting to be loved. They should just keep walking, and they’ll eventually reach where they want to reach. Frederick thinks to himself that he can feel Felicia’s prayers and sad feelings through her murals, and that he doesn’t want her to be alone anymore. Birds appear around him and catch the sleeve of his shirt, on the side where he’s missing an arm. He remembers the conversation he’d had with Felicia about birds giving her courage, and finds himself at the beach. He’s shocked to see that he’s reached it. He turns to his right and sees Felicia working on a mural. He shouts her name, but she doesn’t react. Instead, she walks through him.

“It’s almost dawn, Frederick,” Felicia says as she walks towards a gravestone. “I wanted you to see the morning sun, since you love it so much. That’s why I had your grave put here. Oh, I have paint on my hands. This morning, the princess appeared in my dream. She was very kind, and she asked me to draw a weird bird in all of my murals.” Rose and Vansheld look at the headless bird she’s referring to. “It’s a bird that looks like it doesn’t exist in this world. It has a really beautiful color. She called it a ‘ticket’.” In a small flashback, Rise shows Felicia the ticket and tells her that the world she’s currently in is one in which the feelings of humans are especially strong. She says that her art charms lots of people through the strong prayers it contains, and asks Felicia to pray for this ticket to return to her sister’s side. Rose is deeply touched when she hears this. Felicia brushes it away as a weird dream, but she’s still been praying for it nevertheless. Frederick spots the ring on her finger, which he recognizes as the one he’d wanted to give her. Felicia says that it’s been 16 years since the war, and that the only part of Frederick that returned home was his left arm. She had found the ring in his left hand. In his final moments, Frederick was thinking about her. Felicia says that she created those murals to safely lead him towards the beach, to make sure he wouldn’t get lost. After all, he’d promised that they would get married there, under the flowers in full bloom. Frederick cries as his left arm suddenly grows back, with a ring that says “To Frederick. May our love last forever. Love, Felicia” Even though he isn’t there physically, he holds Felicia’s face and rests his forehead on her head. The train leading to the Grand Finale station appears, and Frederick vanishes. Felicia feels his presence, notices the beautiful flowers in full bloom, and cries as she welcomes him back. Rose and Vansheld watch from afar. Vansheld says that souls usually don’t stay in the real world for this long, but Frederick’s soul was able to go against the rules of death and remain there for so long thanks to the strength of Felicia’s prayers.

#long goodbye my honey #long good-bye my honey #lgbmh #07-ghost #07 ghost #07ghost #battle rabbits #amemiya yuki #ichihara yukino #suuuuuch a sweet chapter!#but who am i kidding every chapter of lgbmh is extremely sweet #i love ameichi so much you guys...#so so much...#also i'm only assuming that amemiya's the one who tweeted the a-chan tweet #she's usually the one who writes their tweets from what i can tell #certain the new years tweet was her though since it says yukino-san

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wiltingpierrot · 4 years

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Gem Glow: Part 1

Welcome! Well, this isn’t really made to entertain. I’m just doing this to recover from trauma and get a good grasp of the show’s lore while having my girls react with me. Feel free to tag along.

We’ll be watching four episodes a day and react only to the major events as tackling all of them is a toughie.

Sharpie: “I want to see real tears, Wilt.”

Wilt: “Tears? At the very first episode?”

Sharpie: “Yes. Otherwise I’ll make you cry by some other means.”

Wilt: “I have these tear marks. Those count, yes?”

Sharpie: “Real tears, I said.”

Wilt: “Ahh, how iconic.”

Spinel: “The area around the lighthouse is lacking a lot of flowers. That’ll change someday!”

Sharpie: “Yes, after a lot of blood, ink and tears had been shed first.”

Spinel: “Here we have a shot of the show’s hero, lamenting the discontinuation of a certain ice cream snack brand.”

Sharpie: “Is this triggering your PTSD yet?”

Wilt: “Not really. I thought it would but surprisingly I’m still okay.”

Lars: “Well, if you miss your wimpy ice cream so much, why don’t you make some with your MAGIC BELLY BUTTON?”

Spinel: “Hey Sharpie, let’s make foodstuff with just the energy in our gem.”

Sharpie: “And you still owe me 86 years’ worth of happiness.”

Wilt: “What is this civil conversation you’re having? That’s not how I wrote you two.”

Sadie: “Uhh Steven? Do you want to take the freezer with you?”

Spinel: “Think what would’ve happened if Sadie didn’t let him take that freezer home.”

Sharpie: “Does… does the cat’s face looked different to you?”

Spinel: “I love the lighthouse. The view up the top is always so breathtaking.”

Sharpie: “I’m not so happy with our roommate though.”

Wilt: “…I might have to draw this someday.”

Spinel: “Don’t you just love it when your pets greet you as you enter your house? I wish you would greet me whenever I fall asleep.”

Sharpie: “You’re just my nightmare.”

Amethyst: “’Sup, Steven.”

Spinel: “AME!!!!”

Spinel: “I AM IN LOVE.”

Sharpie: “You can stop replaying this 5 seconds worth of Pearl now.”

Spinel: “It’s 4 seconds worth of Pearl, you heathen.”

Spinel: “HOOO MAMA. Remember when Garnet kicked our ass?”

Sharpie: “She kicked your ass. She kicked your ass so much I had to start a switch to intervene. Now that I think of it, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sharpie: “Being sliced open is one thing. Being pulled apart is another.”

Spinel: “It’s good that we’re stretchy.”

Sharpie: “I can disable that function and tear you apart like that, actually. Ever wondered why it doesn’t hurt when others pull at you like taffy but I can?”

Spinel: “I can do the same and prevent you from escaping my hugs.”

Sharpie: “*sigh*… I hate you.”

Spinel: “Ahaha! Pearl is so cute!”

Sharpie: “Ahaha! I love this technique.”

Wilt: “It’s good for breaking a hole through walls in maximum security prisons, yeah.”

Amethyst: “Uhh you guys, these things don’t have gems.”

Garnet: “That means there must be a mother somewhere nearby.”

Sharpie: “That’s a fascinating thought.”

Wilt: “It’s similar to how Pearl can project figures that can maintain itself while independent of the source. In this case, the main centipeedle can project independent but smaller versions of itself.”

Sharpie: “How come 2nd Projections aren’t like that, I wonder. Like we can’t have separate bodies or anything…”

Wilt: “Probably because the 2nd Projection has a personality of its own and it stems from the original gem, while Pearl Projections and mini-centipeedles are pre-programmed projections that would act accordingly to the original’s commands. Like, if Spinel makes a projection separate from her, it wouldn’t be you.”

Sharpie: “Fair enough.”

Spinel: “Speaking of Pearl Projections…”

Sharpie: “No.”

Pearl: “Steven, until you learned to control the powers in your gem, we’ll take care of protecting humanity. Okay?”

Spinel: “I want Pearl to snap my neck like that.”

Sharpie: “As if impaling you wasn’t enough.”

Spinel: “PFFFTT-“

Amethyst: “We went out and stole a bunch!”

Spinel: “That’s my Ame.”

Pearl: “I went back and paid for that.”

Sharpie: “That’s…. that’s very Pearl of her.”

Steven: “He left his family behind!”

Spinel: “AHAHAHAHAHA”

Sharpie: “What’s so funny about that?”

Sharpie: “Oh my stars. I hope we don’t have to bear another one of those.”

Wilt: “It’s catchy. I like it.”

Sharpie: “What a happy little family. It’s a shame that they’re doomed to a life of madness onwards.”

Amethyst: “Quick! Try and summon your weapon!”

“Awww, no weapon.”

Wilt: “He’s struggling. A sign of a well-rounded character. The progress is dramatic if we compare this episode to the last ones. And it only took him a few Earth years.”

Sharpie: “And it took us like what, 86 years to get this far and we’re still inferior to most we meet in our travels.”

Spinel: “God I love Pearl.”

Sharpie: “Can you even pay attention to anything that isn’t Pearl?”

Spinel: “I’m capable of paying attention to a lot of things and to nothing at the same time, Sharpie. Be amazed.”

Steven: “Can one of you just explain how to summon a weapon?”

Pearl: “Oh! I’ll go first.”

Wilt: “I love Pearl.”

Spinel: “I love Pearl.”

Sharpie: “…”

Spinel: “AUUGH! Pearl is so beautiful.”

Wilt: “This is so anime.”

Spinel: “This scene makes me wanna stand underneath a cherry blossom tree with her in a Friday afternoon and confess my love.”

Sharpie: “God both of you disgust me.”

Pearl: “Pay attention to these petals, Steven.”

Pearl: “The petal’s dance seems improvised, but it is being calculated in real-time based on the physical properties of this planet.”

Wilt: “HELL YEAH, I LOVE PEARL.”

Pearl: “With hard work and dedication, you can master the magical properties of your gem, and perform your own dance.”

Pearl: “Like so.”

Spinel: “HELL YEAH, I LOVE PEARL”

Sharpie: “So… Pearl’s approach is tuning into the technical reality of the universe to tap into her gem’s energy,”

Amethyst: “Listen Steven. All that practice stuff is no fun. Whenever I need to summon my weapon, it just happens.”

Sharpie: “And Amethyst’s approach is just winging it. Considering Ame is a gem made for war, of course summoning a weapon is natural instinct. Pearl however… She had to learn serious fighting, something most Pearls aren’t made for.”

Spinel: “We’re the same, ain’t we? Spinels ain’t made for violence but we can whoop butt just fine.”

Sharpie: “We just got lucky… and incredibly unfortunate at the same time.”

Sharpie: “Gems are such nuisances. So much that in other places of the world, a group of humans actually built little Distortion Bombs capable of disorienting corrupted gems to a point of repelling them away. Unfortunately those things are powered by tiny bits of gem shards, which is obviously not an easily obtainable source of power. The project was discontinued.”

Spinel: “The invention worked on us, too, which is kind of impressive!”

Sharpie: “The best those little bombs done to us were to irritate us, or temporarily disable our senses. Corrupted gems have warped sentience I think, so they would rely more on instincts and run away from the source of irritation as much as possible.”

Sharpie: “They say if enough energy is given into the device, it’ll have high enough amplitude to potentially dissipate a gem’s physical form. But this is just a fever dream. There’s no way they have access to that amount of energy without slaughtering a Diamond first. Still, props to the engineer who thought that was a good idea.”

Spinel: “So instead of using gem shards, he decided to use us by writing the function into Springy. If we poof, we can give bad gems nearby a head ache and make them go away. We can protect people even if we die in battle! He basically turned us into heroic suicide bombers against corrupted gems.”

Sharpie: “Necessary, considering every time we poof we somehow cause part of a building to catch on fire, killing the people we’re supposed to protect in the process.”

Spinel: “Uh huh… yeaaahh….. I mean, where else is the excess energy supposed to go?”

Sharpie: “I dunno. Some other harmless form of energy apart from heat? The sparkly dust clouds were already perfect and you just had to change it into something deadlier. Thanks to you, seven people that stood close to us turned into soup.”

Spinel: “Well, there was that one time where the fire storm actually saved us from a meanie who wanted to crush us. We can’t just ignore that.”

Sharpie: “Seven people died, Spinel. Seven people that happened to be our allies.”

Wilt: “Please stop. We have to finish this episode.”

Steven: “So I’m supposed to work really hard and not try at all at the same time?”

Garnet: “Yes.”

Garnet: “Or…”

Garnet: “You can link your mind with the energy of all existing matter, channeling the collective power of the universe through your gem.”

Garnet: “At least that’s my way of doing it.

Spinel: “C’mon, kiddo. It’s not that hard to understand. It’s how Springy lived for the past 40 years. If she can do it, so can you.”

Sharpie: “I bet this makes the most sense to you, huh Wilt?”

Wilt: “It does. Considering we are all just ripples of energy on the surface of the large lasagna we call the observable universe.”

Sharpie: “What a nerd. Also we’re half-way through the episode. You better cry, Wilt.”

Wilt: “I’m saving this shot for reference.”

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