#and examine lies especially from people who are terrifying

[the-woman-upstairs]

Just gotta say how thankful I am that the Knowledge Fight podcast exists and how Dan and Jordan have been speaking out against Alex Jones for all these years. They’ve been keeping track of all the awful bullshit he spews, taking the time to sift through the lies/misinformation to counteract them with the truth, and disseminate Jones’ true racist, antisemitic agenda to people around the world.

They know how antisemitic Jones is and how he couches that antisemitism through a variety of dogwhistles like “globalism,” “George Soros,” and the “New World Order.” And in tackling ye’s appearance on Info Wars, Dan and Jordan point out that Alex isn’t disgusted by what ye’s saying, he just wants to retain plausible deniability. There’s no real pushback against ye’s antisemitism, just halfhearted attempts to change the subject or brush it all aside as a “first amendment” thing.

And furthermore, Dan and Jordan specifically look at Nick Fuentes’ role in all this, examining how he’s backing up ye in his antisemitism and the troubling way he’s using ye’s celebrity to boost his own profile, just not in the same way Tim Pool and Alex Jones have done. They clock Nick Fuentes as someone who’s unconcerned with the quiet part being said out loud and stands to benefit from this level of blatant antisemitism being normalized and entertained in public discourse.

All of this should be terrifying to people and mean that we need to be aware of the insidious language used to mask antisemitism as well as push back against it, in addition to the more obvious forms of it. Arming ourselves with knowledge, disseminating information about how so many of these extreme right wing and Christian fascist assholes want to scapegoat Jewish people in the hopes they’ll be killed is more important now than ever. Especially those of us who aren’t Jewish, we need to loudly denounce this shit in public.

Anyway, listen to Knowledge Fight and, as always, fuck Alex Jones, ye, and Nick Fuentes.

[furiousgoldfish]

(personal post)

This is the most incriminating piece of information I have on my parent and it’s incredibly dangerous; if any of my family members knew how to read english I would not be writing this down. This story is related to narcissism, outrageous lying, child abuse, war, mystery and murder.

So, my father had a brother, and this brother died during the war, as a soldier, when I was a kid. This was something we weren’t allowed to talk about in our house, it was an unwritten rule not to mention it.

When I was about 10, my father took me on some kind of a field trip. I can’t remember where we went, or what we did, but I remember sitting alone with him driving the car, and realizing something is wrong. He started acting off, deranged. There was insane tension, stress, rage, he was almost shaking. I made myself as quiet and invisible as possible, because this wasn’t safe for me. He kept driving in off directions, until he finally seemed to have made a choice, and stopped in a forest I didn’t know. He got me out of the car.

I didn’t know where we were going. We went a long way in, and he was still filled with that mad energy, like he couldn’t quite control what he was doing. Then, he gripped my hand and showed me a place. ‘This is where my brother died.’

I froze. He launched into a wild story that contained all possible gruesome details of his death. Where he was standing, what kind of bomb he was hit with, who threw it, where it landed, how injured he was, how long it took for him to die. He did it with a mad expression on his face, and crazy vigor, like he couldn’t even stop himself, he was smiling and laughing in a deranged way all the way thru. I was sure he was sinking in one of his deluded states where he convinced himself he now had to make me, the child, tough enough to handle a gruesome description of murder of a family member, and I was to take it stoically. But I couldn’t. I was petrified. I looked away, I tried to shut my ears, I said I didn’t want to hear about this, I tried to pull back to the car, but he wouldn’t let go. I remember thinking I could get killed there too. And also, it didn’t look like a place where any kind of bomb fell. It looked like a forest, undamaged.

Since the incident was traumatic, I displaced the memory of it, and had no idea it even happened, until I ran away, and started to get memories back. Then, as an adult, I looked back on what happened, and realized, this doesn’t make sense. Even if he was deranged, why did he feel the need to take a child into a forest and detailedly explain the death of his brother? How did he.. how did he know in such detail about it?

I asked around, for I was still in some connection with distant relatives, and I asked where my father was during his brother’s death. They told me he was in the city, and this was few cities away from that forest. I was even more perplexed. Does the army go out of their way to let you know how your family member died, in such detail? I didn’t think so.

What I knew about my father’s brother, was that my father hated him. Asking about their past, I found out there were fights in which my father committed insane acts of violence, and that a few times, his brother almost died from it. I also found out that my father was the biggest bully on the playground, someone who used violence for every conflict and problem, he was known to hit his mother for speaking when he didn’t like it, he smashed plates next to her face if he was displeased. He beat up kids even from school age. I was repulsed.

Then there was another thing I found out; there’s a family member who ended up permanently disabled because of my father, and when it happened, I was still very small, but asking around I found out that at first, he pretended like nothing happened, and ignored the disability like it wasn’t even there. Then, some years later, he started feeding people the story, that since it happened during the war, it wasn’t actually his fault, but in the hospital, the nurse was from the nation we were in the war with, and the nurse purposefully messed with the machine that the disabled person was on, to deny them oxygen, and to try to kill them. Brainwashed with war propaganda, people actually ate it up. And my father had learned, then, that he can easily fix his reputation, by blaming the opposite nation for his violence. People would readily eat that any horror, any crime or act of violence and cruelty was the fault of ‘those evil people who we are at war with’. I was, once again, shocked people didn’t examine critically such a stupid lie. But then, there was even less chance of examining critically a family member murdered in conflict, right?

Except for one thing. The war was over. When his brother died, the war was already over. His story about it was, there was this one troop who didn’t hear the news about the war being over, and they had planned an attack on the team his brother was in and threw explosive weapons on them and killed his brother. After the war was over. His brother is officially recognized as one of the last casualties of war.

Piecing this together, led me to the logical explanation. My father hated his brother. He tried to kill his brother multiple times in his life. He hoped his brother would die during the war. When it didn’t happen, he killed him himself. He invented a story about it blaming the opposite nation, which worked wonders for him in the past. It worked even though the war was over. He never spoke about his brother again, because a part of him was worried people would put it together, that he would get caught. He needed to make an additional, more detailed, more believe-able story. So, he took a kid to the forest. A kid wouldn’t see thru his lies, or challenge him on anything. A kid was a good practice-target for a story he was going to share. So he went there, and told the child in gruesome detail about the murder. Mad with glee because he was remembering it, he was re-living it. It didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense, he was enjoying confessing to it. The child looking scared, unwilling to witness this, trying to go back, only made it more sweet for him. Then he went home, calm that he was never going to get caught because now, his story was detailed and perfect. Not taking into account that kids grow and learn to use logic over time. Maybe he didn’t mean for me to grow that much.

I can’t tell anyone. I’m the only one who has all this information, but I have no proof. If I started to talk, it would only put a target on my back. There also isn’t much hope that I would be believed at all, seeing how quickly I was outcast out of the family. I know my father is capable of murder, and have felt for the most of my life, that I would be the next target. Me and his brother has certain similarities which I’m sure he despises in us both. I ran away form home when I felt I would likely be killed there, otherwise it would have been extremely hard to do it. And now looking back, it feels like I ran away from a murderer as well.

[hamliet]

The Crows Summon the Sun

Or, Hamliet’s review of Shadow & Bone, which gets a 4.5/5 for enjoyment and a 3.5/5 in terms of writing.

The true heroes of this story and the saviors of the show are the Crows. However, the problem is that the show then has an uneven feel, because the strength of the Crows plotline highlights the weaknesses of the trilogy storyline. But imo, overall, the strengths overshadow (#punintended) the weaknesses. 

I’ll divide the review into the narrative and the technical (show stuff, social commentary), starting with narrative.

Narrative: The Good 

It’s What The Crows Deserve

I went into the show watching it for the Crows; however, knowing that their storyline was intended to be a prequel, I wasn’t terribly optimistic. And while it is a prequel, the characters have complete and full arcs that perfectly set them up for the further development they will have in the books (which I think should be the next season?). Instead of retreading the arcs they’d have in the books, which is how prequels usually go, they had perfect set up for these arcs. It’s really excellent. 

Jesper, Inej, and Kaz are all allowed to be flawed, to have serious conflicts with one another, and yet to love each other. They feel like a found family in the best of ways. Kaz is the perfect selfish rogue; he’s a much more successfully executed Byronic hero than the Darkling, actually. Inej is heroic and her faith is not mocked, yet she too is flawed and her choices are not always entirely justified, but instead left to the audience to ponder (like killing the girl), which is a more mature writing choice that I appreciated. 

Jesper is charming, has a heart of gold despite being a murderer and on the surface fairly greedy, and MILO THE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I also liked Jesper’s fling with Dima but I felt it could be better used rather than merely establishing his sexuality, like if Jesper and Dima had seen each other one more time or something had come of their tryst for the plot/themes/development of Jesper. 

Nina and Matthias’s backstory being in the first season, instead of in flashbacks, really works because it automatically erases any discomfort of the implications of Nina having falsely accused Matthias that the books start with. We know Nina, we know Matthias, we know their motivations, backgrounds, and why they feel the way we do. It’ll be easy for the audience to root for them without a lot of unnecessary hate springing from misunderstanding Nina (since she’s my favorite). Matthias’s arc was also really strongly executed and satisfyingly tragic. Their plotline was a bit unfortunately disconnected from the rest of the story, but Danielle Gallagan and Callahan Skogman have absolutely sizzling chemistry so I found myself looking forward to their scenes instead of feeling distracted. Also? It’s nice seeing a woman with Nina’s body type as a romantic and powerful character. 

Hamliet Likes Malina Now

Insofar as the trilogy storyline goes, the best change the show made was Mal. He still is the same character from the books, but much more likable. The pining was... a lot (too much in episode 4, I felt) but Malina is a ship I actually enjoyed in the show while I NOTP’d it in the books. Mal has complexity and layers to his motivations (somewhat) and a likable if awkward charm. Archie Renaux was fantastic. 

Ben Barnes is the perfect Aleksandr Kirigan, and 15 year old me, who had the biggest of big crushes on Ben Barnes (first celebrity crush over a decade ago lol), was pretty damn happy lol. He’s magnificantly acted--sympathetic and terrifying, sincerely caring and yet villainous in moments. Story-wise, I think it was smart to reveal his name earlier on than in the books, because it helps with the humanization especially in a visual medium like film. Luda was a fitting (if heartbreaking) backstory, but it is also hard for me to stomach knowing what the endgame of his character is. Like... I get the X-men fallacy thing, but I hope the show gives more kindness to his character than the books did, yet I’m afraid to hold my breath. Just saying that if you employ save the cat, if you directly say you added this part (Luda) to make the character more likable (as the director did) please do not punish the audience for feeling what you intended. 

I also liked the change that made Alina half-Shu. It adds well to her arc and fits with her character, actually giving her motivations (she kinda just wants to be ordinary in a lot of ways) a much more interesting foundation than in the books. Also it’s nice not to have another knock-off Daenerys (looking to you Celaena and book!Alina). Jessie Mei Li does a good job playing Alina’s insecurities and emotions, but... 

Narrative: The Ehhhhhhh

Alina the Lamp

Sigh. Here we go. Alina has little consistent characterization. She’s almost always passive when we see her, yet she apparently punches an officer for calling her a name and this seems to be normal for her, but it doesn’t fit at all with what we know about her thus far. Contradictions are a part of humanity, but it’s never given any focus, so it comes across as inconsistent instead of a flaw or repression. 

I have no idea what Alina wants, beside that she wants to be with Mal, which is fine except I have no idea what the basis of their bond is. Even with like, other childhood friends to lovers like Ren/Nora in RWBY or Eren/Mikasa in SnK, there’s an inciting moment, a reason, that we learn very early on in their story to show us what draws them together. Alina and Mal just don’t have that. There’s the meadow/running away thing, but they were already so close, and why?  Why, exactly? What brought them together? The term “bullies” is thrown around but it isn’t ever explored and it needed to be this season. If I have to deal with intense pining for so many episodes at least give me a foundation for their devotion. You need to put this in the beginning, in the first season. You just do.

A “lamp” character is a common metaphor to describe a bad character: essentially, you could replace the character with a lamp and nothing changes. Considering Alina’s gift is light, it’s a funnily apt metaphor, but it really does apply. Her choices just don’t... matter. She could be a special lamp everyone is fighting over and almost nothing would change. The ironic thing is that everyone treating her like a fancy lamp is exactly the conflict, but it’s never delved into. We’re never shown that Alina is more than a lamp. She never has to struggle because her choices are made for her and information is gifted to her when she needs it. Not making choices protects Alina from consequences and the story gives her little incentive to change that; in fact, things tend to turn out better when she doesn’t make choices (magic stags will arrive). 

Like... let’s look at a few occasions when Alina almost or does make choices. For example, she chooses to (it seems) sleep with Kirigan, but then there’s a convenient knock at the door and Bhagra arrives with key information that changes Alina’s mind instantly despite the fact that Bhagra’s been pretty terrible to her. If you want to write a woman realizing she’s been duped by a cruel man, show her discovering it instead of having the man’s abusive mother tell her when she had absolutely no such suspicions beforehand. There’s no emotional weight there because Alina doesn’t struggle. 

When she is actually allowed to carry out a bad choice, the consequences are handwaved away instead of built into a challenge for her. Like... Alina got her friends killed. More than once. I’m not saying she’s entirely to blame for these but could we show her reacting to it? Feeling any sort of grief? She never mentions Raisa or Alexei after they’re gone, just Mal, and I’m... okay. They were there because of you. Aren’t you feeling anything? Aren’t you sad? The only time Alina brings up her friends’ deaths is to tell Kirigan he killed her friends when they were only there because she burned the maps. She yells at Kirigan for “never” giving her a choice, but she almost never makes any, so why would he? Alina has the gall to lecture Genya about choices, but she herself almost never has to make any. 

Which brings me to another complaint in general: Alina’s lack of care for everyone around her when they’re not Mal, even if they care for her. Marie dies because of her (absolutely not her fault of course) but as far as we know she never even learns about Marie. She certainly doesn’t ever ask about her or Nadia. Alina seems apathetic at best to people, certainly not compassionate or kind. 

The frustrating thing is that there is potential here. Like, it actually makes a lot of psychological sense for an orphan who has grown up losing to be reluctant to care for people outside of her orbit and that she would struggle to believe she can have any say in her destiny (ie make choices). It’s also interesting that a girl who feels like an outsider views others outside her. But the show never offers examines Alina’s psychology with any depth; it simply tells us she’s compassionate when she is demonstrably not, it tells us she makes decisions when it takes magical intervention to do so. It’s a missed opportunity. This does not change between episodes 1 and 8, despite the episodes’ parallel structures and scenes, which unintentionally reinforces that Alina had little real development. 

Inej and ironically Jesper and Kaz embody the concept of “mercy” far better and with far more complexity than Alina does. The Crows have reactions to the loss of people who even betray them (Arken, etc), learn, and course-correct (or don’t) when they are even loosely involved in having strangers die. They’re good characters because they change and learn and have their choices matter. When they kill we see them wrestle with it and what this means even if they are accustomed to doing so. Jesper can’t kill in front of a child. Kaz wonders what his killings do to Inej’s idea of him.

Narrative: The Mixed Bag

Tropes, Themes, Telling vs. Showing

So the show’s themes in the Alina storyline are a mess, as they are in the trilogy too. Tropes are a very valuable way to show your audience what you’re trying to say. They’re utilized worldwide because they resonate with people and we know what to expect from them. The Crows' storyline shows us what it wants us to learn.

Preaching tells, and unfortunately, the trilogy relies on telling/preaching against fornicationBad Boys. It’s your right to write any trope or trample any trope you want--your story--but you should at least understand what/why you are doing so. The author clearly knows enough about Jungian shadows and dark/light yin/yang symbolism to use it in the story, but then just handwaves it away as “I don’t like this” but never does so in a narratively effective way: addressing the appeal in the first place. If you really wanna deconstruct a trope, you gotta empathize with the core of the reason these tropes appeal to people (it allays deep fears that we are ourselves unlovable, through loving another person despite how beastly they can be), and address this instead of ignoring it. Show us a better way through the Fold of your story. Don’t just go around it and ignore the issue.

The trilogy offers highly simplistic themes at best--bad boy bad and good boy good, which is fine-ish for kid lit but less fine for adult complexity, which the show (more so than the books) seems to try to push despite not actually having much of it.

Alina and Mal are intended to be good, we’re told they are, but I’m not sure why beyond just that we’re told so. Alina claims the stag chose her, but in the show it’s never explained why at all. Unlike with Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and hell even Matthias and Nina, we don’t see Alina or Mal’s complex choices and internal wrestling. 

Like, Inej’s half-episode where she almost killed the guy they needed was far more character exploration than Alina has the entire show, to say nothing of Inej’s later killing which not only makes her leaps and bounds more interesting, but ironically cements her as a far more compelling and yes, likable, heroine than Alina. We see Inej’s emotional and moral conflict. We can relate to her. We see Kaz struggling with his selfishness and regrets, with his understanding of himself through his interactions with and observations of Inej, Alina, the Darkling, Arken, and Jesper.

We don’t explore what makes Mal or Alina good and what makes them bad. We don’t know what Alina discovers about herself, what her power means for her. We are told they are good, we are told she knows her power is hers, but never shown what this means or what this costs them/her. Their opportunities to be good are handed to them (the stag, Bhagra) instead of given to them as a challenge in which they risk things, in which doing good or making a merciful choice costs them. Alina gets to preach about choices without ever making any; Inej risks going back to the Menagerie to trust Kaz. Her choices risk. They cost. They matter and direct her storyline and her arc, and those of the people around her.

Production Stuff:

The Good: 

The production overall is quite excellent. The costumes, pacing, acting, and cinematography (for example, one of the earliest scenes between the Darkling and Alina has Alina with her back to the light, face covered in his shadow, while the Darkling’s face is light up by her light even if he stands in the shadows) are top-notch. The soundtrack as well is incredible and emphasizes the scenes playing. The actors have great chemistry together, friend chemistry and romantic when necessary (Mal and Alina, the Darkling and Alina, Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias, David and Genya, etc.) All are perfectly cast. 

The Uncomfortable Technicalities Hamliet Wants to Bitch About:

The only characters from fantasy!Europe having any trace of an accent reminiscent of said fantasy country's real-world equivalent are antagonists like Druskelle (Scandinavia) and Pekka (Ireland). When the heroes mostly have British accents despite being from fantasy Russia and Holland, it is certainly A Choice to have the Irish accent emphasized. The actor is British by the way, so I presume he purposely put on an Irish accent. I'm sure no one even considered the potential implications of this but it is A Look nonetheless.

The Anachronisms Hamliet Has a Pet Peeve About: 

The worldbuilding is compelling, but the only blight on the worldbuilding within the story itself (ignoring context) was that there are some anachronisms that took me out of the story, particularly in the first episode where “would you like to share with the class” and “saved by the horn” are both used. Both are modern-day idioms in English that just don’t fit, especially the latter. The last episode uses “the friends we made along the way.” There are other modern idioms as well.

IT’S STARKOVA and Other Pet Peeves Around the Russian Portrayal 

Russian names are not hard, and Russian naming systems are very, very easy to learn. I could have waved “Starkov” not being “Starkova,” “Nazyalensky” not being “Nazyalenskaya,”  and “Safin” not being “Safina” as an American interpretation (since in America, the names do not femininize). However, “Mozorova” as a man is unfathomable and suggests to me the author just doesn’t understand how names work, which is a bit... uh okay considering a simple google search gets you to understand Russian names. They aren’t hard. I cannot understand why the show did not fix this. It is so simple to fix and would be a major way to help the story’s overall... caricature of Russia. 

Speaking of that... Ravka is supposedly Russian-based, but it is more accurately based on the stereotypes of what Americans think of Russia. Amerussia? Russica? Not great. 

The royals are exactly what Americans think of the Romanovs, right down to the “greasy” “spiritual advisor” who is clearly Rasputin and which ignores the Romanov history, very real tragedy, and the reason Rasputin was present in the court. The religion with all its saints is a vapid reflection of Russian Orthodoxy. The military portrayal with its lotteries and brutality and war is how the US views the Russian military. The emphasis on orphans, constant starvation, classification, and children being ripped from their homes to serve the government is a classic US understanding of USSR communism right down to the USSR having weapons of destruction the rest of the world fears (Grisha). Not trying to defend the Soviet Union here at all, but it is simplistic and reductive and probably done unconsciously but still ehhhh. 

However, I’m not Russian. I just studied Russian literature. I’ve seen very little by way of discussion of this topic online, but what I do see from Russian people has been mixed--some mind, some don’t. The reality is that I actually don’t really mind this because it’s fantasy, though I see why some do. I'm not like CANCEL THIS. So why am I talking about this beyond just having a pet peeve?

Well, because it is a valid critique, and because it doesn’t occur in a vacuum. The Grishaverse is heralded as an almost paragon for woke Young Adult literature, which underlines itself what so frustrates me about how literary circles discuss issues of diversity and culture. Such praise, while ignoring its quasi-caricature of Russia, reflects a very ethnocentric (specifically American) understanding of culture, appropriation, and representation. All stories are products of their culture to various extents, but it bothers me on principle what the lit community reacts (and overreacts sometimes?) to and what people give a pass to. The answer to what the community reacts to and what it gives a pass always pivots on how palatable the appropriation is to American understandings and sensibilities. There’s nuance here as well, though. 

I'm not cancelling the story or thinking it should be harshly attacked for this, but it is something that can be discussed and imo should be far more often--but with the nuance it begs, instead of black/white. But that’s a tall ask. 

[five-rivers]

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt:  Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately.  There was something in the atmosphere, almost.  It felt… lighter, maybe?  

He didn’t like it.  

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion.  The tendency had saved his life multiple times.  Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost.  Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with.  Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him.  Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often.  Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha.  He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one.  Skipped school and everything.  The whole high school experience.  Ha.  

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.  

He sighed, heavily.  Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding).  Stock up on supplies.  Get ready to weather a storm.  Literal or metaphorical.  

But hiding out in the cave was so boring.  There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah.  Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah.  Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts.  It was pretty empty around here.  

Just like Flynn’s heart.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  That was a good one.  

Eh.  Life wasn’t so bad.  He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time.  Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof.  Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity.  And not having a concussion.  Or losing any more teeth.  

But, back to his original topic.  

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe.  Was it directly Flynn’s problem?  No.  The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.  

Flynn recognized that.  Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom.  But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.  

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger.  Who knew what could come out of a portal?  At least according to the ghosts he talked to.  Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.  

This was going to suck so much.  

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary.  Which he had read.  Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck.  He could take one ghost.  Three? Yeah.  Not a chance.  

Maybe they’d leave?  They couldn’t know for sure he was here.  With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.  

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.  

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again.  He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either.  No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.  

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.  

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait.  They weren’t.  Flynn would know.  He’d made many unbelievable jokes.  They’d never attracted anything but groans.  

Ha.  

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost.  “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.  

“We don’t have any choice about her, though.  Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.  

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out.  Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn.  Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him.  The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago.  At least a decade.  

But he did scream.  Loudly.  Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all.  He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.  

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages.  “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.”  He examined his fingernails.  “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.  

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate.  Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.”  He eyed the eyeballs.  

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.  

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.  

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork.  “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn.  He adjusted his grip on his staff.  “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face.  “No.  Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby.  Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.  

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork.  He raised an eyebrow.  “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip.  Hard.  Okay. He wasn’t dreaming.  And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway?  Flynn was nothing.  He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.  

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.  

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands.  “Then let us away to the castle.”

.

Well.  That was certainly a castle.  Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.  

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house.  Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.  

Or even hole, when compared to all this.  Dear god, this place was fancy.  

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.  

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin.  You are not underdressed.  

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings.  “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost.  “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.  

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one.  I will collect you for dinner in three hours.  Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.  

… There would be curtains, right?  This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.  

He opened the door.  

Lots of curtains.  Lovely.

No, really.  It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains.  He might be crying.  

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft.  He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy.  Filthy.  Covered in years’ worth of grime.  He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.  

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath.  He was craving a human-safe bath.  With clean water and soap.  

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes?  Toothpaste?  Unrestrained luxury.  

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter.  The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.  

There was a sink.  

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.  

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.  

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water.  Because he made it so, so dirty.  He sank into the water, up to his chin.  

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause.  Because it was always a lost cause.  Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.  

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available.  He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one.  Were there ghost dentists?  There had to be ghost dentists.  They had a lot of teeth.  A lot of teeth.  Sharp, scary, teeth.  

Ugh.  His baby cousin was a ghost.  He’d probably have teeth like a shark.  When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all.  Because.  Baby. Little, tiny, baby.  

Who Flynn barely knew.  

Why did he even want Flynn?  Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?  

Ghosts were weird.  Anything could be possible.  

He flopped face-first onto the bed.  His bed?  His temporary and maybe permanent bed.  If he was allowed to stay here.  

Oh, gosh.  Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals.  Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?  

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?  

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.  

(Dad?  Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed.  But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.  

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now.  He was living in the scariest place out of the world.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe.  Oh, boy. Many clothes.  He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store.  Incredible.  

They were so fancy, too.  He didn’t know how to choose.  

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.  

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed.  Some of them looked cool.  And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.  

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet.  Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear.  Wow.  It had been a while.  

.

Okay.  The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice.  Like, no nap nice.  

He wanted to take a nap.  

But no nap was occurring.  

The bed was too soft.  Ugh.  This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.  

He groaned.  He hadn’t thought that was real.  He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama.  Or something.  

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.  

Maybe he could sleep here.  

.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover.  What cover? Oh.  Bed.  That was the bed.  He was in the room.  In the castle.  The ghost king’s castle.  

His baby cousin’s castle.  

He was going to cry.  This was so weird.  

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand.  Which.  Might not have been the best of ideas.  But, hey, he was dressed now.  

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle.  Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there.  One of his eyebrows went up.  “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down.  Orange and green went fine together.  What was he talking about?  

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.  

“Come, now.  Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back.  At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.  

He decided not to do that.  Running away wasn’t his style.  

(Who was he kidding?  That was definitely his style.  He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing.  Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.  

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled.  “Only the future.”  He swung the large, gilded door open.  

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates.  There were a small group of children beyond it.  One of them waved at him.  Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.  

[anxiousstark]

The three times JJ tried not to break down + the time he did | JJ MAYBANK

Request:  “Fluff request: The day after JJ has a fight with his dad, the reader and JJ stay in bed laying down facing each other and their noses are touching and they have their hands intertwined and the reader is telling JJ everything she loves about him.”

Word Count: 1977

Warnings: Changed it a little bit. Mentions of abuse, drugs, blood, swearing (always). Didn’t proofread much, I’m tired.

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST

You couldn't help but laugh loudly as JJ Maybank guided you around the beach, dancing under the moonlight. His chest rumbled while he examined how dizzy you felt from going in circles. "It's coming. It's coming." He warned. His left hand ended up resting on your waist while his right hand, was intertwined with yours. "I'm going to dip you." And he did. And when he did, you had the best view, even though everything seemed to move as you were dizzy from laughing and dancing so much with him. You could see JJ Maybank's face and the fully-starred dark sky behind him.

JJ let you fall on the sand gently, falling next to you and breathing hard. You were still laughing, serotonin running through your veins.

"You guys are stupid," Kiara smirked, sitting down on the sand, cuddling Pope whose arms were wide open, hoping to hug the girl he was in love with, and warming her up as the night seemed to be cold. "I admire you two not having worries at all." She sighed, still smiling.

"Ugh," The blond next to you groaned. "You are just jealous because I prefer Y/N as my dancing partner." He teased her, making her roll her eyes. "And she prefers me." He glanced at you.

Turning your head to the side to look at him, you nodded. "But I think we didn't dance much, most likely we were going in circles." You grinned. The boy laughed, coughing due to how hard he was laughing. Happily, you gazed at the sky. "I'm sleepy." Yawning, you turned on your side, getting closer to JJ. His left arm was under his head while his right arm immediately brought you closer to him, helping you rest your head on his chest.

You liked JJ Maybank, but you always believed that he was far from your reach. And (probably) he just saw you as his closest friend. However, even if it killed you deep inside, you would stay like you were if that meant JJ Maybank would be the happiest person in the world because he deserved it more than anyone else.

But.

When Kiara had said that she admired how both of you had nothing to worry about, she didn't know the weight he carried on his back due to the situation in his house. JJ didn't cough because he was laughing too hard, he coughed because his father had beaten him last night and his tummy was full of red bruises, turning into purple and green.

JJ and you were the only ones in the Chateau. Sarah and Kie and went out grocery shopping, dragging John B with them. Pope was coming later as he had to help his dad with some late deliveries. Therefore, the Maybank boy, and you were the only ones, playing with a volleyball you had found while going to the Chateau.

JJ tried not to be competitive, not wanting to hit the ball with too much strength, accidentally hitting you and causing you pain. Hence, he tried to use a suitable strength, passing the ball to you. You were doing the same.

However, the ball fell to the ground as you saw two cars getting too close to both of you. "JJ," You whispered without turning around to glance at him. You just felt his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him as he saw some people getting out of the car, coming closer to both of you in quick steps. "Who are they?"

"I don't know." He noticed that those young adults looked furious. He didn't like the way they were getting closer to the both of you, especially because two of them were grabbing basketball bats. "Just stay behind me, okay?"

"JJ Maybank, right?" One of them asked. He seemed to be the leader. The blond boy nodded, which was the only thing you could see as you were listening to him, staying behind him. His arms were extended because everyone would have to pass over his dead body to get to you. That wouldn't happen. "Your fucking dad said to come to find you. He said you would pay us."

"What?" You didn't know what they were talking about. "He lied to you all. I have nothing to do with him, especially with that topic." He growled. "I don't even have money for myself. He is avoiding paying you all."

"Well, I don't care," The man gritted his yellow teeth. He seemed to be young, but he looked so fucked up. "I care about my money."

"Well, I don't care," JJ answered back. "I care about you all getting out of here because I have nothing to do with that son of a bitch."

The man walked closer to both of you, his hands gripping JJ's shirt collar, moving him harshly until his back hit the trunk of a tree. "I want my fucking money! And I don't care what I have to do to get it." He spitted on his face.

"Oh," God no, you knew that tone. You knew JJ was going to be sarcastic, and you were already shaking from fear. "So you are into BDSM?"

"Oh, so you are one of those funny guys, uh?" He made a gesture with his head. One of the other men walked closer to you, one of those who had a bat. You tried to step back, but he quickly grabbed your arm. "Let's see how much you laugh now, boy."

Maybank noticed what was going on, his eyes going from the man that was grabbing you to his bat. "Don't you dare."

"Let's show the boy that we don't joke around with mad drug dealers that are anxious to get their fucking money." Another gesture. Next thing you knew, the bat had hit your upper thigh, making you gasp. Eyes glistened due to the pain he had inflicted.

"Dude," JJ screamed, spitting all over the man's face. "I'm not fucking kidding, you hear me?" He glanced at the man that was seizing you. "I will fucking go crazy and kill all of you if you touch her again, you hear me?!" He started fighting against the man that had him clutched by his collar, trying to get away from him. "Don't you fucking even look at her!" He continued screaming, which made you break down, sobbing violently. "Don't be fucking cowards! Come at me! She has nothing to do with this!"

And that's how you ended up being seized too, so you wouldn't run to JJ while the others were beating the shit out of him. When they left, you ran to him. He was just there; pale, spitting blood, not being able to move from the ground. And thankfully, the others arrived, shocked to see their bloody friend laying on the ground while you were on your knees, crying and asking him what you could do to help him.

While explaining the situation as best as you could while sobbing hysterically, John B and Pope helped JJ sit down, giving him some time before they would help him inside the Chateau. Kiara was searching the aid kit, and Sarah had gone inside to get a glass of water so JJ could clean his bloody mouth.

"H-Hey," JJ stopped you from talking or weeping. "T-That was n-nothing. I-I'm perfectly f-f-fine."

No, he wasn't.

"Hey, we can't leave yet." You furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at your friends, who were excited to get into the water. "JJ isn't here."

"He texted me saying he can't come today. Said he felt sick." Pope shrugged. What?

JJ texted Pope Heyward to tell him that he wouldn't join you all today, and that was strange. That was so rare. You were always JJ's first option when he needed to call or text someone. Okay, maybe you were overreacting, and nothing was going on. But you couldn't help but feel this uneasy feeling thinking that maybe JJ texted Pope because he was mad at you, or something had happened to him.

Intrusive thoughts run through your head, making you even more anxious. "I'm going to bail on you guys!" You ran to John B, showing him your hand, asking to borrow his car. He placed the keys on your hand without asking where you were going. "Have fun! Don't wait up for me!" You screamed while running towards the car.

Your heart broke.

Your heart broke because you had noticed that JJ avoided talking about his dad. He never talked about his family, claiming that the Pogues were the only people he needed.

Your heart broke because you had noticed how he seemed to avoid swimming, not wanting to take his shirt off. You noticed how his confidence disappeared. You noticed all those things but tried to convince yourself that everything was alright. Because the last time you asked JJ if he was doing fine, he avoided the topic.

Your heart broke because you had parked the car at the end of the street. An empty street if only JJ Maybank's father wasn't hitting him repeatedly, pushing him inside their house. You gasped and got mad at yourself for not coming out of the car and insulting that son of a bitch. But maybe walking closer to JJ would make his dad even madder, hitting him harder. That's why you waited for the right moment.

You closed the door behind you, trying not to make any sound. Going upstairs and cursing yourself lowly when the old wood creaked. "Fuck, where was it?" Finding the door you were searching for, you opened it slowly.

The person lying on the bed quickly turned to glance at you, terrified of someone breaking in his house. "Y/N?" The blond boy turned on the lamp that was beside him. "H-How?" He glanced at you with a confused expression decorating his face. "D-Did you just break into my house?"

You nodded your head, taking off your shoes and getting into his bed. His face was full of bruises and scratches. Biting your lower lip, you tried not to cry for him. "You taught me to do so," Both of you were lying on your stomachs, facing each other. "JJ," You started, getting closer to him until your noses were touching and his hot breathe fanned over your face. "I love you," You swallowed. "I love you more than a friend does, and I want you to know that you are so loved. We love everything about you. I love everything about you."

JJ's face came even closer, his lips grazing yours, too emotionally tired to kiss you as bad as he wanted since you guys were fifteen. He pecked your lips. "I love you too."

"You know we all are here, right?" Your left hand found his right, clutching it as gently and firmly as you could.

He nodded his head. "He makes me feel like I'm not worth anything." His eyes got teary until he couldn't hold the tears anymore, running down his red cheeks due to the pain and anger he felt.

"I'm going to beat him up," JJ chuckled. "The way you would give your own life for everyone you love? The way someone hurts you deeply, but you would still give them a second choice because you believe people should have opportunities? The way you move me away from the road when we are walking, and you get that place? The way you always remember to buy everyone's favourite snacks when it's your turn to do grocery shopping for the Chateau? The way you smile and make everyone feel better?" The way-."

"Okay, okay," He stopped you, pecking your lips. "I get it. I'm worth it."

"Yes, you are."

JJ Maybank broke down that night. But JJ Maybank had all of the Pogues to help him get up.

[herstarburststories]

You Have A Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a call from Y/N, Sam comes back town to help -- and brings Dean with him.

Requests: N°1 heyhey, could you do a Sam x reader where they went to college togehter and later meet again and they realise their feelings for eachother...xx + N°2: can you do a college sam headcanon with medicine student reader

A/N: This was fun! The monster here is mentioned in season 6, when the boys ask Bobby for advice on how to kill it. This is my first Samgirl long imagine, with Dean being the flirty he is. I wrote this almost one year ago, so it's more crude and I'm nervous to be posting it! And my piece for @cajunquandary 's 600 challenge, my prompt was monster of the week. Dividers by @talesmaniac89!

Dean's eyes remained on the road when the bitter statement left his body, tangled with a wry chuckle, “I can't believe you are still in touch with those people.”

“Those people?” Sam arched elbows, slightly skeptical by his brother's tone, “They were my friends, Dean.”

“Sammy, all our friends? Dead. They all die. Or worse.” He glanced at him for a moment, pursing his lips together. It might not be an easy assignment, but was part of the job. Sammy had tried to run away plenty times and always came back, when would he understand? “We don't get to have friends. You should've learned that.”

“They are not our friends, they are my friends. Also, they don't know about the hunting life, they aren't in harm.” Sammy hissed once the other locked his green eyes on the road again. Dean sighed, moving one hand away and up from the steering wheel in a rendition gesture.

“Whatever you say, man. I'm just warning you, this doesn't usually end up good for them.”

Sam scoffed, Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, “We saved many people that got to have a good life.”

“Yeah, but those people didn't know us before that. I told you when you left Stanford--”

“I didn't keep contact, okay!? I just... I just still have a phone that they have the number of. No social media, no calls on birthdays.” Nervously gesticulating, he added, “I know how to keep them safe, Dean.”

“So, old friend?” The eldest Winchester asked after the few minutes of silence that followed Sam's outburst, “Female old friend?”

“Yes. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean smirked, and Sam to rolled his eyes at his behavior, “Keep it in your pants.”

He'd let out a malicious laughter before turning on the radio, the first guitar sounds of AC/DC playing in the background.

“I think you'll be the one not keeping it, Sammy.”

“Hello?” The woman in nothing but a towel who had opened the door greeted them with a question, her brown eyes glaring at the two men with clear confusion.

Dean had no shame to check her out, innerly celebrating that she was still wet from her shower. Perhaps visiting Sam's friends wasn't that big mistake. “Hey, you.”

She grimaced at Dean for two seconds before turning her attention to Sam again, sudden recognition written on her face.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He nodded, smiling that light-hearted boyish grin at her. Not caring about her dressings, she just threw herself at Sammy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” She pulled away only to hit his shoulder. Her short stature didn't match Sam's, but he'd still make a grimace at her attempt of slap. “Why didn't you call? God, your hair grew a lot. Listen, I have some scissors.”

“Tried that, didn't work.” Dean interrupted their reencounter, trying to get in the conversation. An usual lopsided grin on his face, “Dean Winchester, Sam's brother.”

“Layla, Sam's friend.” She gave him a friendly smile in return, opening space for them to pass through the door before closing it, “Come in, I need to change in clothes.”

“I wouldn't even dream of that. Seriously.”

Layla would just wiggle one of her brows at Dean's comments, not impressed by it, “Ele é sempre assim? (Is he always like this?)”

Thankfully, Sam still remembered a bit of his friend's native language. He just chuckled, managing to apologize for Dean's typical Dean behavior, “Unfortunately. Sinto muito. (I'm sorry)”

“(Y/N) is in the kitchen. I'll be right back.” Her accent was thicking stronger duo the comfortability around Sam. Excusing herself, the caramel skinned girl leaded upstairs.

“What did she say?” Dean asked, side glancing at the path Layla had just gone on, not even sure of which language she'd just spoken, much less what was said. Sammy didn't bother replying, satisfied to grin at his obvxion brother. “Dude, come on!”

“Sam!” A well-known voice filled the room as the image of (Y/N) appeared in front of them, dressing your loyal cook's avental. You didn't think twice before jumping on Sam. “I missed you, giant!”

He, like always, caught you with a light-hearted laughter, “I missed you too, cupcake.” You two spent a few moments like this, enjoying each other's warm and long lost touch, until Dean cleared his throat. You finally went back to the ground, embarrassed by having a stranger to see that level of intimacy between you and Sam, “This is Dean, my--”

“Handsome brother. Hello, cupcake.” Dean was so going to tease Sam for the rest of his life for it.

“You really live up for Sam's description.” You giggled, heading towards the kitchen “Come in, I'm baking.”

“So, you and Layla still live together?”

“Most of the time, yes. You know how she is, comes and goes. Never wanted to stay in a place for too long and got a job that supported that.” The boys followed you, Dean examining the kitchen and trying to discover what you were cooking through the smell, while Sam couldn't take his eyes on you, “Apparently, just like you.”

Even though your back was facing them as you checked the food, the bite didn't pass unnoticed, “I had to leave, (Y/N)”

“I understand that, Sam. But you never called or texted. It was like I--” You quickly corrected yourself, “We never existed for you.”

“It's not like that.” Sam sighed, how could he justify? He knew you wouldn't buy a simple excuse. You were smart, and knew him too well to swallow a 'I went on a trip with my brother and just decided that college wasn't my deal' and leave it for that.

“I'm here!” Layla declared, arriving into the room with an excited smile, it was good to have the gang back together. Although, the tangible tension almost made her go back to the shower, “Am I interrupting something?”

“A sitcom DR.” Dean answered with sarcasm, spreading his figure on the chair when you turned around with an apple pie in your hands “What about we talk about the ca-- Is this pie?”

“We heard a scream followed by a loud roar and (Y/N) stayed near the camping part because there was still a signal and I went looking for who it was. When I got there, the thing ran away. Jorge's body... No human did that. His chest was cracked open irregularly, as if it was done by an animal and his heart looked weird. Like it was squeezed and drawn on up somehow?”

“We got a Samia.” Dean stated, relaxing on his spot. Some sault, rosemary and fire would do the job just fine, “Let me guess, it left a clawn near the body or inside it?”

Layla nodded, “Right in the chest or what lasted of it.”

“Are you okay? Finding the body in that state.” A comprehensive manner englobed Sam's question, whom noticed the normality with his friend described finding a shattered body.

“Just some guts.” She shrugged, a grimace was all the reaction they'd get. Crying wouldn't help, neither being terrorized as they expected her too. “I've seen Grey's Anatomy enough not to care about it.”

“Well, I'm literally a medicine student and I am still not okay with that. Especially after you made me go and check the body.” You argued, glaring at your best friend who'd only roll her eyes in response.

“I needed a professional to say if he was dead or not!”

“You need a therapist.”

Dean got up, looking straight at Layla. Time to play the hero in shining armor, “Don't worry with that, we will take care of it.”

Frowning, you were the one to respond, “Do you work for the police now or?”

“Are implying that we investigate it by ourselves?” Your best friend added.

Dean couldn't believe his brother. How the fuck did he let them get inside without saying they didn't know about the hunting business? It was a luck shot that they didn't think much when he said Samia.

“Nope. Not you two. We will do it.” The blonde one said, pointing at them with a smirk.

“I agree, we will do it.” Layla replied, matching his taunt smile.

“Sam, I'm not letting you and your brother do it by yourself. Jorge was my professor, I knew him. Besides, we found the body.” You got on your feet and crossed your arms, waiting for a response. Sam always had a sort of hero complex, ready to help no matter what, but there was no way you'd be letting him go into danger with his brother. Getting in your dormitory to kill a cockroach back then or facing an idiot during a bar fight to protect one of your friends was something, but this? They were talking about looking for an assassin. What if something happened to him? You were the one who called. All on you. The thought of Sam getting hurt for any reason was unbearable, but because of you? You weren't willing to do that.

“You would be in danger, (Y/N). You both.” He tried to explain, internally hoping you'd accept his reasoning and let it go. Sam didn't want you to become one of the friends who knew about this life, you deserve more. He already lost one woman he loved in this city, he couldn't lose another.

You huffed in frustration, “Just like you will!” 

“It's different.” As he was terrified of, you insisted. Arms crossed still and eyes locked with his, determined to get something from him. Sam was smart enough to know that you would keep it going. Perhaps he could give you a short explanation, “Me and my brother, we are used to this. We hunt things like that.”

Layla tilted her head to the side. The way Sam talked remembered her of animal hunting, although she highly doubted that was the case, “Little more explanation?'”

“Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, spirits. The list goes on. Call us crazy. Roll the credits.” Sarcasm saltered every word of Dean's as he gestured up and down with a cocky smile. Everyone glared at him, a special furious look from his brother, “What? I thought they knew what we did and that's why she called.”

“Sam?” Your voice was fragile when you said his name, a demonstration that you would believe him through the fear of the truth, but that he had to say it.

Sam laid his hazel eyes on you. God, how he wished he didn't have to confirm anything, to break your vision of world so abruptly, “Dean is right. Supernatural things are real. I know it sounds--”

“Unbelievable? Problematic? Scary?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Sam offered you a humorless smile, then holding your hand the way he used to when you were nervous about an exam, “But I wouldn't lie to you, cupcake.”

The silence was broken by Layla opening a bottle of Whiskey, pouring them for the three people in the room besides herself. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, while Sam wore a tiny smile and Dean was astonished.

Noticing the eyes glued, the latina just shrugged “What? If you are gonna tell me that Dracula is real and you are a sort of Buffy's apprentice, then we will need some alcohol.”

“Why did you call?” Sammy asked, his brows knotted together, mouth slight open as he waited for your response. “You didn't know what I did. And he wasn't my professor at Stanford. Then why did you call, (Y/N)?”

You could make up a hundred excuses. Lie and say he was the one friend besides Layla that you had somehow a way to get to. Appeal to the excuse of 'I felt something weird about the death and you said I should call if I ever had a problem of any kind'. But for as much as you felt horrible for using a death as a pretext for calling him, that was partially the truth. You already had put yourself into a mess of monsters and a drained heart, it couldn't be scarier than being honest to Sam and to yourself.

At least, you hoped so. But your heart was rushing like when you saw Jorge's body. Jesus, when did love become so morbid?

You took a deep breath, oxygen barely achieving your lungs, and then started to talk.

“I wanted to call you the minute that you left, Sam. I almost did a million times.” You answered, looking down at the bottle of a sort of plant that he was putting in a dark green bag. “I thought about what you could be doing, what was so important that you couldn't send me a message. But you just didn't want to call, I guess.”

“I wanted to call, of course I did.” You scoffed at his statement, looking up to match his eyes, “(Y/N), I'm serious.”

“You didn't even come to Jess' funeral, Sam. Layla said that maybe you needed to leave to clear your mind, that was too much to deal with. But I was so worried, and sad and confused and I wanted to talk to you because you would understand, you always did. About anything. And I wanted to give you some sort of comfort, but--” You lifted your hands and shrugged your shoulder, a broken chuckle leaving your body. “But you weren't here.”

“You stopped leaving messages after two weeks. Calling was gone when it made a moth.” You sniffed. Sam's lips curved into a pure, cautelous grin. God, he was always so sweet. “The emails took two months.”

“You were never good with dates. I gave you a calendar in your freshman week.” Your teeth met your lower lip. He didn't answer, only nodding at your affirmation, omitting the fact that he still had the calendar between latin books and pieces of newspapers, “Yet, you remember all of it.”

Sam leaned forward, holding your hand with all the delicacy you would expect from a sculptor. It had been too long since he hugged you, and his touch made all your skin tickle with warmth. “I missed you too, (Y/N). I thought about you all those years.”

“So, Cupcake?”

"Let's focus on the case, Dean."

“Then you can go back and eat your cupcake?” He remarked with a grin. His brother just huffed, pointing the flashlight through the trees, “So, Layla…”

Sam rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean started being too Dean for his liking, “Dean. The case.”

Before he could make another teaseful comment, a roar invaded their audition. The hunters gave each other a quick glance before heading towards the direction of the noise.

Shaking the salt and rosemary mixture in his hands, Dean smirked, “That's it. Time to shine, cupcake.”

“I have to admit. Being patched up by a doctor is better than by Dean.”

A surprised, half relieved laughter came out your body as you finished another stitch on Sam's arm. That boy was unbelievable; openly talking and making jokes about his brother, who was also being patched up by your best friend in company of a bottle of whiskey, while he spoke about Layla's name being a rock song. You were working on a large wound on his shoulder-- which you were sure that was full of dirt from the forest.

Medicine student, but I'll take that complement.” You winked at him, gaining a soft grin from Sammy, “I was expecting more blo-- Why are you smiling? I'm touching a recent wound. It doesn't look dangerous, but I'm sure it is supposed to hurt. A lot.”

Sam's answer came out easily, the bare, vulnerable truth: “I'm happy you are here.”

You looked at him, his hair longer than before, but the soft simper remained on his face. You bit your lip to hold a giggle; her heart dared to hope. What he expected when he said things like this? A quiet contentment spread through his expression while he watched your reaction.

“You should have come home sooner.” 

His mouth formed a line, “I don't have a home, (Y/N). It's just Dean, me and the road now.”

“No, Sam.” Shaking your head lightly, you intertwined your fingers with his. His life was dangerous, you couldn't afford the luxury of waiting even more to share what you had finally admitted to yourself in the moment he walked through the door. It didn't seem like the easiest, simpler situation. But the only hard thing you couldn’t go through was to be away from Sam Winchester. He lingered on you for years, you were done letting him run away. It was time to hold his hand and walk together. “You should've come home sooner. To me.”

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[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Saved

Summary- 2.6k Bucky x You. Based on a ASK from anon-Hella Bi Bitch. Hydra tramautized you and you go to Bucky for comfort. Angst/Fluff. Also written for @jtargaryen18​ 4k Challenge. 

“Sweetheart. They are not coming.” Brock leered over your face, his hot breath washing over you, and it was almost impossible to miss the leer in his brown eyes as he cupped your face. If you had the capabilities, you would jerk away, but you were strapped down. All over, even your head was strapped flush to the hard metal table. The only thing you would do that would be satisfactory was work your mouth, draw up that last bit of spittle you had left and spat at him, making him curse while jerking back. 

It would be worth the pain he would cause next, knowing that at least he couldn't break you, just tie you down. Captain would be here soon, Iron Man, Natasha, Bucky… someone, someone would come for you. 

Brock retaliated by slamming an open palm across your face, biting back a cry, a burst of blood interrupted from your nose, racing down your face. 

As parched as you were, you welcomed the hot iron taste swarming your mouth, even through the pain. 

“Rumlow! You will step away from the girl. We need her.” 

Dread filled you as his face went from rage, to a cold smirk, pulling away from you. “Don't worry sweetheart, once they are done breaking you, you and I are going to do great things.” 

Your eyes flickered to the Hydra Agent, laying out his supplies, tools of pain and vials of poison to flood your system. Nauseated, you looked back up to the ceiling, and squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your mouth shut. Tears welled up, you would probably be gone, dead before the team would find you. It was what you hoped for now. 

You would rather die then let them turn you evil. Wasn't there a saying? You either die a hero or turn into a villian. You prayed, prayed for death instead. 

A year you were tested on, preyed on until you became a shell. Moved from base to base, handled by various people. None had a shred of kindness, and Brock especially took joy in your torture. 

He was able to use the various instruments, had access to your cell whenever he wanted. Your personal bodyguard, your personal hell. In these times you sink away from yourself, your body started to work on their command, your mind an empty shell of your former self. Intelligent? Yes, but yourself, no. 

It wasn't complete yet, there was still a shred of you left. Holding on, barely. 

Your rescue happened one sunny afternoon, but you weren't to ever know this. You were deep underground, away from air and light. They had just dumped you in your cell when there coms went off. To weak to pay attention to the Hydra agents fear as they hurriedly locked you in, you crawled to your cot and folded yourself onto it. Another day of survived hell. Squeezing your eyes shut, you really just wished for it to end. At this point in any manner. So much pain. To much.

Alone for a while, you start to drift off into nothingness when metal on metal jolted you awake with a terrified whimper. You heard the clang on your bars and lifted your head up to see Bucky trying to see who was curled up on the cot. 

“B-b-bucky?” You eased up slowly to make sure you weren't seeing things, and then right next to him Steve stepped up, flipping his shield to hang on his back. 

“Doll, we finally found you.” Bucky exclaimed with relief, grasping the bars and wrenching them as hard as he could, the metal whining in protest, but it wasn't strong enough to hold him back from what he wanted. 

Steve kept a watch of Bucky's six, speaking into the com at his ear. “We got her, Bucky is collecting Y/N now, have the jet ready Clint. Nat, you just about done? Sam, cover us when we come up."

“Five more seconds and data is secure, Tony can blow this hell hole to dust.” 

Bucky's arm went around you for support as you went to stand, sore from earlier, he saw you hobble forward and he swept you up. 

“Just faster this way Doll, come on Steve. Before Stark gets trigger happy.” Bolting for the nearest set of stairs, everything became a blur as Bucky and Steve bolted from the building. Hiding your face in Buckys shoulder, you never did see that sunny afternoon. 

A shadow passed over Bucky and Steve bolting across the ground, and when you glanced up, lifting your head off Buckys shoulder, the flash of red and silver covered out the blue sky above, and you smiled to yourself, between Sam, Steve and Bucky, you were safe. Exhaustion dipped your head back to Buckys shoulder.

It wasn't long till you were back at Stark Towers, which hadn't been your home in a year. Bucky carried you down into the medic bay with Sam close by. The rest of the team went to debrief on the mission, knowing you were taken cared of. Bucky easily set you down on the table, hovering nearby, he seemed hesitant to leave you, you who were so quiet, so shut down. Sam hovered close by, his jaw clenched. Quiet at well. Not knowing what to say or do, You just stared at the floor till Bruce came in. 

“Give us some privacy Bucky? I need to give her a full examination.” Bruce said softly, and your eyes welled up with tears, hiding away from them both. Bucky shook his head in refusal. “I'm not leaving her alone.” 

“Okay, but on the other side of the curtain, if Y/N needs you, she will call you.” Bruce looked over at you to confirm that was okay, and you nodded, still unable to look at any of them. Your shame and fear pounding at you. Sam clasped Buckys forearm, nodding his head to the door. "We will just be on the other side." When Bucky stepped on the other side, you could see the worried look flashing across his face, somewhat in recgonition to your pain. Sam gave you a slight nod, and a smile of encouragement.

Why couldnt you be stronger? 

The start of your recovery was rough, locked in your room a lot. It took some time for you to open back up to the team. Bring a sense of normalcy to you again. Your normal for the past year has been to be tortured. Everyday life was a lot. Things so simple, like going to get a glass of water, took all your willpower to do. The team, they did everything they could to make it easier.  Natasha and Clint immediately made you a part of their movie nights. At first you would sit stiffly away from them, not wanting to be touched by anyone. But soon you loosened up. Curling up against Clint while his arm draped over you, your feet in Natasha’s lap while she painted your nails. “How are the nightmares Y/N?” Natasha would ask, and you could feel Clint tighten his arm around you slightly, listening. It was no secret, your nightmares were a nightly occurrence, often waking up screaming and trying to hide somewhere in the room. 

“They are fine, fewer and fewer every day.” You lied, covering your shame. 

Steve, you often went with Steve out for walks where he would find some subject to draw. You would lay in the sun, while your friend sketched away at some piece of nearby building, sometimes a landscape. Once he even did you while you were sitting a bit away, catching your profile watching the clouds above. Often you two would sit in easy silence, not needing to have long intense conversations, you were just happy to be with your friend. Once in a while you would ask him. “Steve, you think I can join the team soon?” 

The blonde man would hum, and his blue eyes would shift over towards you a moment before going back to his paper. “Y/N, don't rush it. You were there for a year. I'm not putting you in the field before you're ready. Here, what do you think?” He would flip his pad around and of course it was his way of saying, No. Not Now. Maybe not ever.

Sam often had you over to his apartment to help with meals. You figured it was to make sure you were eating properly. At least one square meal. When you asked him, he scoffed. "Actually taking these cooking classes, I make enough for two. Lets face it, your better company then I could ask for. Besides Steve and Bucky are not adventurous like you. They wanna boil everything." Sam snorted, stiring his jambalaya. "Chop this up." He said quickly, handing you a knife. You always felt safer with something, Sam noticed this the first time you joined him, and you flinched when he drew out a butchers blade. From then on, you were set on chopping duties. You began to really look forward to cooking nights with Sam.

"No girlfriends to have cooking dates with?" You would tease when you set to chopping and Sam would give you that grin of his.

"Sure, I just test them on you first Precious. Gotts make sure they are decent enough to feed to others."

"Yea, I'm real Precious if your using me as a gineau pig." You stick your tongue out st your friend, but secretly you don't mind.

Tony, he was more energetic. Often you would be sitting down in his workshop, laughing at his attempts to improve the Ironman suit. It became a habit to keep a fire extinguisher nearby. “Tony, I don't think you should try this.” You said warily as he put on his new thruster boots. “Aww come on, what's the worst that can happen?” He grinned, and winked. 

He ended up shooting around the room like a balloon just untied, crashing into walls and bouncing off the floor. When he finally came to a stop, his feet were on fire. 

Jumping down with the extinguisher, you yelled “Tony!” and covered him with the foam, once it ended and the billionaire blinked it away, swiping the foam off his face. 

“I had it under control Y/N.” 

“Sure you did.” You squirted him one last time to retaliate before putting it away, and holding your hand out to him, helping him up. 

“Payback Y/N, payback.” Tony glared before pulling you into a hug, getting you covered to. At first it was fine, until you didnt feel Tony anymore and you struggled. Tony immediately let go, and you covered your face in shame. “Im sorry, I'm so sorry Tony.” He shook his head and gently grasped your wrist just enough to uncover your face. “Y/N, it's okay to feel like that. I should have asked first.” You gave an apologetic smile and he winked. The good thing with Tony was that he moved on from your attacks like they never happened, and for that you were forever grateful to your friend.

Bucky, he was the only one that you would find wandering late at night, like you were. When everyone else was fast asleep, you would be pacing the tower, afraid of sleep. It would happen, eventually. Your body would give into its demands, and you would go under into your nightmares. But until that happened though, you found ways to distract yourself. Sometimes it was video games on mute, you would bake muffins for the teams breakfast, get lost in Tony's library he allowed you access to. It was in these wanderings you found Bucky, bumping into him in random places. 

Eventually you two started to really get to know each other. Your late nights would be spent together. You opened up more and more, talking about what Hydra and Brock did to you during that year, Bucky making similar confessions while you two sat outside, away from the confines of the building. Quite a few times you both watched the sun start to come up far off to the east, and Bucky's arm would settle over you while your head tipped onto his shoulder. 

“Buck, I don't know if I will ever just be okay. Steve doesn't seem to think so.” 

“Doll, I came back from it.” He simply said, and you looked up at him, giving a half smile. 

“Your stronger than me.” 

His brow arched as he looked down at you. “That's not true. I had help, Steve, Shuri. I could have never done it alone. Why I know you will come back from this. Your not alone.” 

It gave you something to think about the rest of that day. 

You were so tired after two days going, you couldn't help but pass out, exhausted. You fell into bed in your sleep shorts and a tank, curling up while the world faded away. 

The nightmares though, flashbacks of all those times you were helpless, unable to fight back and could do nothing more than hold back your screams. It never helped, they still fell from you till you were horse from it, rolling from your bed as visions of various doctors plagued you, Hydra Agents beating on you, and Brock he was always in the darkness, watching with anticipation. When he would finally step from the shadows, you knew it wasn't just a nightmare anymore. It was hell. It was what sent you hiding while you were still sleeping. 

This night the jarring motion falling from your bed woke you, before Brock could get to you. Covering your head, you sobbed into your knees, so completely at a loss of how to fix yourself. Your shoulders shook, and you huddled there on the floor for a moment till your legs and back started to ache from being hunched over. Sniffling, you grasp the side of your bed and pull yourself to sit on the edge, wiping the tears from your face. The room felt cold. Reminiscent of your time with Hydra. No warmth, dark shadows stretching like they were reaching to claim you, in which you withdraw your feet off the floor, trying to talk yourself through what you felt was another oncoming panic attack. You had to get out of there, there was no way you could sleep in here tonight. 

Grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders, you edge around your bed, trying not to let yourself get psyched out that Brock might be hiding in your room, he wasn't. He couldn't. It was impossible to break into Stark Towers, right? Into the living room you went, looking over your shoulder at what was your bedroom. Even your couch felt too close to the memories. 

It wasn't even a thought, you eased into the hallway and started down familiar doors. Steve, Natasha, Wanda… when you paused in front of one. It had no special markings, nothing to signify to any other that it was a special door, but for you it was. Hesitating for a second, you reached out and gave a quick rap of the knuckles, waiting. 

Bucky heard it, that quick knock knock. He never slept deeply, always aware of his surroundings, years of training and his own deep rooted fears that something was going to happen. When he opened his door to you, the blanket you had on you just about swallowed you, and your face peeked out, red rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. He knew you had been crying, were about to start crying as you were standing there. Bucky stepped back to let you in. 

“Sorry Bucky, I just… don't want to be in my apartment tonight.” Your head dropped as you stepped in, and he softly shut the door behind you. 

Standing there for a moment, you didn't know where to go from there, and he stepped in closer, encircling his arms around your cocooned blanket and you could feel the rush of a sob squeaking from you, pressing in against his t shirt. Bucky tucked you in close, feeling his own eyes prick with tears feeling you break in his arms, your shoulders shaking and even the blanket couldn't seem to keep you feeling safe now. But his arms did. They were strong and hard, encircling you. “Come on Doll, your exhausted I can feel it.” 

You didn't struggle as he led you down the small hallway to the back bedrooms, and  expected him to put you in a guest room that you knew all these apartments had. But he didn't. 

He brought you right into his room, and sat you on the edge of his bed. 

“Are you okay unwrapping from this?” He questioned, his hands resting on the blanket where you clutched it around you like a protective shield. You sniffled and dried your face on it momentarily before nodding, letting your grip go. He eased it off, and folded it. Resting at the end should you want it back. 

“Give me two seconds Doll.” He disappeared into his closet and with the door half shut, pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers, and switched out his tear wet shirt for a dry one. When he came back out, you were right where he left you, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and your fingers clasped in your lap. When he came around and stretched out, half propped up on pillows, you looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you leave the light on Buck? Just a little bit?” 

“Of course Y/N. '' Reaching to the lamp, he turned it on a softer setting and saw you visibly relax your shoulders as you looked around, and could still see all the corners of the room. Pushing back to get in the bed, you tucked yourself in against your friend's side, letting your head fall to his shoulder. 

“They must have been pretty bad this time.” Bucky said as he lifted a blanket over the two of you, and you nodded. “I kept seeing Him in the dark, coming for me.” Bucky was well aware who you were talking about, having shared with him before some that had happened to you. You lifted Bucky's arm and placed it around your shoulder, his palm pressing against your arm and tucking you in closer, dropping the softest of kisses on top of your head. “Even when I was awake, it was like he was just out of sight, waiting for me to drop my guard.” 

“We won't let him get to you Doll, not again.” 

There was a soft shuffle of blankets as you got comfier against him, and your arm locked around his middle, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

“I know Buck, that's why I came to you.” 

[gaming-universe]

Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART ONE-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar​

The feeling of drowing was somethong terrifying.

Knowing that your body was completely spent, knowing that the ocean’s surface was just a swift stroke away...and that you couldn’t reach it, caused your chest to tighten out of fear. Or maybe, it was because of the lack of oxygen.

You could manage to see the tall cliff face through the jagged waves, where he no doubt still stood, waiting to see if you would resurface. But no, no one could survive a fall from that height, especially after taking a single and deadly shot to the chest.

Blood, your blood you soon realised, stained the water a haunting red as you were swept further out to sea. The waves crashing above, though muffled and far away, soothed you as if it were a sweet lullaby. A lullaby of your final moments. The harsh cold of the water finally began to set in. Icen hands seemed to wrap around your form, providing you with the small mercy of numbing the agonising pain that coursed through every fibre of your being. A small and last act of kindness to lure you into an eternal darkness.

Amongst the silence beneath the waves, you released an anguished muffled cry, breathing in water the moment you stopped. Your body convulsed involuntarily, as death itself reached out to claim you. Your vision began to fade, flashes of past memories appearing before your very eyes. Some of them you remembered, some of them you didn’t. Speaking to Hudson before going to Cuba, travelling with Arash to the airstrip, where he shot you because of your suspected betrayal.

Suspected betrayal?

Then you saw him. Adler. He stuck by your side, even after explaining what he had done to you. But now...now you were here.

 Your eyes closed, your lips parting in a silent breath as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness, your built up anger suddenly vanishing and lifting from your shoulders.

Death’s embrace seemed a lot warmer than you would have imagined.

Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with a rundown wooden interior of what appeared to be an old fishing shack. There was a small fire in the corner, opposite from where you lay on a mattress on the floor. There was no one else in sight, leaving you feeling more anxious then ever.

Where were you? What...how did you get here?

Sitting bolt upright, you winced loudly. Though your vision swayed, you looked down to examine the wound in your chest, finding that the wound had been properly treated, wrapped in gauze and bandages to prevent infection. Wrapping yourself in the blanket provided, you shivered violently, jumping slightly as the door opened to reveal the form of an older man carrying a few heavy-looking logs of wood. When his eyes met your own, the old man smiled. “You’re awake...” He spoke kindly, his Russian accent almost obscuring his words “I was worried you wouldn’t”. You watched him warily as he placed the logs in a pile beside the fireplace, stoking the flames quickly before turning around to face you. “Where am I? How did I get here?”.

“I found you when I was out on my trawler four days ago, you were half dead when I pulled you aboard, heavily armed, cut to pieces with a bullet to the chest. I’m going to assume you were apart of that raid on that Soviet base?” He questioned, raising a knowing eyebrow in your direction. You froze, your heart thundering in your chest as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Images of the air raid flashed through your mind, getting caught up in the explosion and having...having him...

“And if I was?” “Then I owe you many thanks. Those soldiers have been terrorising this town for years. Destroying that base was the best thing to happen on this Island for a while”. You nodded slowly, grimacing slightly as you moved to make your shoulder more comfortable to eleviate the pain. Your gaze fell to the floor, as a wave of emotions consumed you. Anger, sadness, betrayal was the most prominent. You tried to stop the sting of tears from your eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the old man before you. He tilted his head to the side, moving to sit down on a small wooden stool beside you. “Something is troubling you, my dear...” He spoke softly, “what is it? But you may share in your own time if you like, but right now, you need some rest”. You nodded slowly again, allowing your tears to cascade down your cheeks. For the first time since Cuba, since Hudson’s team had admitted what they had done to you, after Adler had...had shot you, you cried.

Despite who you might have been with Perseus, who you might have been before the CIA messed with your mind, you were still human. You had been lied to by the people you thought you could trust, who turns out you had only been introduced to a few months ago. And Adler, for some reason his betrayal hurt the most. A man you thought you had known for the longest time, a man you thought you had served with, a man who had lied to you from the very beginning. We have a job to do.

That phrase left a bitter tast in your mouth, but just thinking about that phrase caused a series of fragmented memories to resurface.

A few days before leaving for the airfield with Arash, you sent out an encrypted message to the CIA, claiming that you were willing to cooperate with any questions they may have in exchange for asylum. Your plan was to hopefully make contact with the CIA taskforce that you were informed would be there. Unfortuately, Arash must have gotten wind of your movements.

Your sobbing suddenly stopped, your eyes widening in shock and sudden realisation. You had planned on defecting? Oh god, oh god. You were going to defect from Perseus and cooperated with the CIA. Then what had happened? If Adler’s team knew that you were planning to willingly aid them in their fight against Perseus, then why go through all that trouble of the MK-Ultra program? Why go through all that trouble to fuck with your mind, implant false memories, and lie and pretend as if nothing had ever happened?

From the corner of your eye, you watched as the old man approached, carefully extending a warm ceramic mug toward you. Steam rose from the warm beverage contained within, the old man smiling kindly. “It’s just tea, I used to make it for my son all of the time”. He moved back slightly as you gingerly took the mug from his hands. You thanked him with a silent nod of your head, sipping the tea lightly as the two of you sat in silence.

In a way, you were grateful the old man allowed you to take things in your own stride, that he didn’t ask the questions he so desperately wanted answers to. “I will leave you to sleep now. If you need anything, the house is just outside. If you get too cold, there is more firewood against the wall here” The old man instructed, before standing to his feet and making his way to the door of the shack. With a mumbled ‘goodnight’, the old man disappeared outside, closing the wooden door behind him with a loud ‘thunk’.

Sighing loudly, you placed the tea aside and carefully moved to lie back down, cursing under your breath as pain exploded through your chest. Your eyes focused on the roof above, as sleep finally began to take hold of your exhausted form. Dedcending into a dreamless sleep, you allowed yourself to relax for what felt like the first time in a long, long time.

Tag List: @pookolokon​

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Geralt and the Minotaur p2

Pairing: Geraskier?????

Warnings: violence, talk of human sacrifice, talk of cannibalism, this is ancient Greece baby, they buck-wild, sad goodbyes? 

AN: anthropologists have found evidence that the people of Crete ate their dead. fucking wack right?? also they were the major power in the area at the time and defs considered downright ruthless (think Nilfguard) 

part 1 here!

__________

Plans were made, if you could call them plans; Geralt was going in blind. No one who’d ever entered the labyrinth below the palace of Crete had ever returned, save for the architect, and even he almost died in the maze. All they could prepare for was getting him home. He had one day after they were released into the tunnels to make it out alive and to the port. 

As the day grew closer he found sleep harder to come by. Anyone he spoke to was positive, encouraging, some of the senior military officers even offered advice, but he saw the pity in their eyes. Eskel and Lambert trained him hard, telling him they’d rather him die of heat exhaustion in the arena than by the hands of the minotaur. He heard people's whispers from around corners and his father's advisors worry over who would inherit the crown when he didn't come back. It seemed everyone thought he was as good as dead. 

He spent most of the night before they were to leave wandering the cliffs overlooking the sea. He’d never tried to speak to his Olympian father, sure he made sacrifices and said his thanks, but he had yet to seek answers from him. He stopped to stare out at the waves, the sound of them rushing over the rocks below coming to him as a comfort. Now wasn’t the time, he decided, better not to test his Posiden’s favor before something so important. 

He arrived back at the palace just after dawn to a great flurry and bustle of activity. Someone pulled him into a dressing chamber and helped him work out best how to hide a knife in his robes. In the end, they opted for a shorter chiton, only tied at his off hand shoulder to give him as much freedom with his weapon as possible. The blade was tucked between the layers of fabric and the belt around his waist where he could easily grab it but, hopefully, no one would see it. He’d have to be careful sitting down, but it gave him comfort knowing it was secured beneath his navel. The piece was hemmed above his knee, easier to run in, and made of common, sturdy grey fabric. The hope was he wouldn't be recognized, though there was nothing to be done about his hair and eyes. 

Vessimir said nothing all morning, he followed his son from room to room as he asked Lambert last-minute questions and had a final, quivering voiced pep talk with Eskel. It felt as though Apollo was meandering across the sky, drawing out the agony of their wait. 

When the sun was finally directly overhead, there was a chorus of screams as mothers spotted black sails on the horizon.

Geralt had felt nothing all morning until seeing those sails. Now his palms were sweating, his heart pumping as if he’d sprinted the amphitheater stairs, and he felt if he looked his father directly in the eye he might fall into a fit of tears. 

Finally, the time had come, the ship was roughly a mile out, and he would have to join the others soon. 

Vessimir gripped his shoulder, “Geralt,” the boy, for that is certainly what he felt like, looked up at him with a trembling bottom lip, “I am proud of you. It may scare me, but you are a fair and noble leader; not a mere ruling body.”

Geralt nodded, biting his cheek to keep his tears at bay as he whispered, “Thank you.”

Vessimir pulled him into his arms, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug, “I love you.”

Geralt tucked his head into his father's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as tears cascaded over his cheeks. He had only just found his father, and now he’d thrown this away on some stupid impulse? 

A guard cleared his throat, a signal that time was running short.

Geralt couldn’t be the one to let go, not even if he’d wanted to. Vessimir had to gently push him away, holding him at arms distance.

“When you come back, raise white sails. I need to know you’ve survived as soon as I see your vessel.”

Geralt nodded, taking the yards upon yards of folded white canvas from an attendant, “I love you, father.”

Vessimir’s lips formed a thin line behind his beard and he nodded, “Go be a hero.”

He followed the plain-clothed guard to the docks where families were gathered saying goodbyes full of false hope. One look at the terrified prince had mothers clutching their children tight and begging the gods for mercy. Guilt weighed heaviest on his chest when fathers reassured their daughters that the slayer of Procrustes and the wild boar would protect them. He wondered if they were lying, or if they really believed he could save their children.

They were corralled onto the boat in a flurry of shouts and soldiers in unfamiliar armor and colors. Geralt tucked the sails inside a coil of rope that came up to his waist in the chaos. Before the fourteen youths were even pushed into the lowered portion of the deck, the soldiers shoved off from the dock, dodging rocks and trying to tune out the wails.

Geralt was herded next to a boy maybe one year his junior as the rowers began to heave at the oars. He stumbled into the brunet when the vessel surged forward.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to sea like this before,” he muttered, reaching out to steady himself against the mast in the center of their makeshift prison.

The boy looked up at him with a grin, blue eyes matching the sea behind him, “Well now’s a good time for firsts, yeah?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, “Nothing like certain death to inspire optimism.”

A small snicker reached over the rush of the wind as the boy shook his head, “I’m Jaskier.”

“Geralt.”

A soldier slammed his spear on the deck, “Oi! No talking!”

“Fuck off, you dirty cannibal.” Jaskier snapped back at him, turning to face the man twice his size. The man glowered at him but the boy stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing despite his best interest, “Is the whole island full of bull-fuckers like your queen? Or is beastiality only reserved for the royals?”

Geralt gripped the neck of the boy’s tunic and yanked him back just in time to avoid the blunt end of a spear swinging at his head. He pulled Jaskier around to stand behind him, turning to grab the spear just as it was thrust at his chest. There was a moment of eye contact between Geralt and the soldier before he twisted his wrist and snapped the handle in half. The soldier let out a yell and swung with his fists at Geralt’s head. He sidestepped and gripped the soldier's wrist, using his momentum to pull him down the step, and gripping his backplate with his other hand. He slammed the soldier into the mast as hard as he could, making the rigging rattle with the force. When the soldier tried to struggle Geralt twisted his wrist behind his back.

He leaned in close and growled in the man’s ear, “We have no choice but to go,” Geralt paused to crank the man’s arm even farther up between his shoulder blades, “but touch a hair on their heads and I will swiftly remove yours.”

“You would try.” The man gasped, clearly trying to sound more confident than he was.

Geralt rolled his eyes and grunted as he wheeled around and threw the man back up to his fellow countrymen. He landed on his shoulder at their feet, a sickening crack filling the tense silence. The strangled gasp the man let out made Geralt want to wince, but he kept his face set in stone. 

“Don’t touch them.” his voice was strong and sure despite feeling like he might faint. 

The captain stepped forward, holding a hand up to his men, “You stay put, and they’ll keep their distance.”

Geralt nodded, waiting till the Cretian turned away before looking for Jaskier, “Are you alright?”

He nodded, stepping up close to Geralt and gripping his hips, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. The terror that had weighed him down all day was temporarily forgotten as Geralt shivered under his touch.

“Your knife came loose.” Jaskier whispered against his cheek, subtly twisting the prince’s belt, “Don’t want them spying it.” 

Geralt swallowed hard, fighting the urge to follow Jaskier when he pulled away, “Thank you.”

“Please. I should be thanking you.” Jaskier cocked his head to the side, squinting as he examined Geralt’s face, “Are you always so pale?”

Geralt released the breath he was holding, letting himself smile as he shook his head.

Everyone was settling into groups around them, some sitting and chatting quietly, their bodies tense as they leaned in close, others holding hands and staring out over the sea. Jaskier slid down the mast, patting the deck beside him as if Geralt hadn’t already decided he wouldn’t leave the boy alone until they were safely back on Athenian shores. 

Jaskier rested with his shoulder against Geralt’s, practically ordering his body to relax. 

Leaning into him, Geralt trembled, no longer able to keep his nerves contained as the adrenaline seeped out of his body, “Do they really eat people in Crete? No one will tell me.” 

“All I know are rumors- Are you alright?” Jaskier asked, fixing Geral with a worried look as he rested a hand on his knee.

“Fine.” Geralt lied, feeling his whole body shake with the effort of keeping him upright and his eyes open. It didn’t help that this boy was magnetic and distracting, drawing him closer with his gentle touch and fearless nature. Geralt wondered if their dire circumstances were what made him react this way or if he would have been just as allured by the reckless boy had they met back home.  

“It’s nearing dusk, when was the last time you slept?” Jaskier examined the deep blue bags under his eyes as Geralt stubbornly avoided his gaze. Eskel had told him to be wary of everything, especially anyone who wasn’t just as terrified as him, but everything in Geralt was telling him to trust Jaskier. 

He shrugged, honestly unable to say when he actually slept last. The night before had been spent in denial and before that he wasn’t sure if any of the time he spent with his eyes closed could really have counted as sleep. 

Jaskier shifted, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him to lay his head on his lap, “You need to rest.”

Geralt made a feeble effort to fight him, born out of pride more than actual desire, “I need to stay alert. I can’t defend us if I’m asleep.”

“Sshhhhh,” Jaskier ran a hand through Geralt’s hair, making his scalp tingle under his touch, “You can’t defend anyone too exhausted to stand,” he whispered. Geralt gave in, making it clear he was doing so reluctantly, even if he was unable to keep his eyes from closing as he rested against Jaskier’s thigh. The blue-eyed boy hummed a soft tune, something Geralt’s mother used to sing him to sleep with, and every stroke through his hair sent a wave of calm through his body. The sensation lulled him closer to sleep despite the angry crashing of waves against the hull and violent shifting of the boat beneath them. 

“Wake me.. If…”

“I’ll wake you if you’re needed.” Jaskier assured him, resting a hand on his sternum, “Sleep, hero.”

With the promise, Geralt relinquished his already weak grasp on consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.

__________

part 3 here!

if you wanna be tagged just let me know! 🥰

@hailhailsatan 

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Saturday, 19:08

Song: Mark Diamond - Monster

Lucas checks the messages again as he walks, just to make sure he didn’t imagine anything. But it’s all there. Jens inviting him to go trick or treating with him and his little sister, with the condition that he has to wear his costume once more, complete with a winky face.

So, naturally, Lucas is skating to Jens’s house in his full princely form.

He’d thought it was a weird offer, at first, though he has come to understand that it’s more of a request. Robbe usually goes with him, Jens says, but he wants to spend the night with Sander and Jens refuses to complain about that, this time. Lucas is honestly honored to even be his second choice, especially when it seems to be a tradition.

Plus, he’d never pass up an opportunity to see Jens.

He’s given up denying it to himself. It seems to have gotten easier, now that it feels slightly out in the open. Noor had placed it under the light and made it impossible to ignore. He’d thought it would terrify him more, but he still only feels relieved.

He is also very confused, and a little anxious, because he definitely can’t be imagining what happened after. He didn’t imagine Jens staring at him at the party, and he didn’t imagine how they’d almost kissed.

He refuses to believe he misinterpreted it. Jens is the one who started to lean in first. Jens was going to kiss him. Jens had wanted to kiss him.

At least, this is what Lucas desperately wants to believe.

The hope has been blossoming there since they’d met, the irritational little sprout of hope, telling him that this time he may be in with a real chance. Telling him that the signs he’s been seeing are real, that every time Jens’s gaze or touch lingers, that every time he smiles extra wide or laughs extra loud, it’s not just Lucas’s head playing tricks. It’s real. It means something. He’s not imagining it. His own interest might not be for nothing. His feelings don’t have to be ignored. He’s not setting himself up to be torn down.

He also thinks he’s stuck up in the clouds and treading a very thin, dangerous line.

As he makes it back to Jens’s street for the second time in twenty-four hours, he reminds himself that now isn’t the time to think about it.

Jens is already stood outside, back in his skeleton costume and gesturing dramatically through the door at someone Lucas can’t see. Lucas slows to a stop a few houses down, planting his foot on the pavement and kicking up his board. The sound is enough to alert Jens to his presence, and the line of his shoulders softens as he turns to look at Lucas. Lucas smiles and offers him a wave as a little girl trudges out to meet Jens.

Lucas takes a few slow steps closer and hears Jens say, “Lucas is here, Lies, can’t keep him waiting.” He ushers the girl—his sister, clearly—out to the gate, and she follows without much protest.

Lucas’s smile grows as he watches them, almost missing the other person peeking their head out the door. “Don’t I get to meet him?”

Jens looks back and Lucas follows his gaze to see an older girl at the door, possibly older than them. He lifts his hand in another wave as she grins excitedly at him and Jens makes a sound of protest. “Nope, already late.”

Lucas snorts as they reach him. “Late for what?”

“Well, do you want to introduce yourself?” Jens raises a brow. He’s plain-faced today, foregoing the makeup he’d worn the previous night. Meaning, if Lucas touched him, he’d be met with nothing but smooth skin, soft and golden under his fingertips, warming the closer Lucas allowed himself to get.

He shakes the thought away and with it denies Jens’s offer. He looks instead at the younger girl already staring up at him, dressed as a little fairy, complete with a small set of wings sprouting from her back. She bears little resemblance to her brother, eyes and hair both a few shades lighter, but there’s something in the curve of her smile and her curious expression that makes their relation unmistakable. He asks Jens, “Are you at least going to introduce us?”

Jens sighs, as if it’s a much bigger task than a few words. “Lucas, this is Lotte. Lotte, this is your second babysitter for the night.”

Lucas rolls his eyes and then smiles at Lotte, oddly nervous as she gazes up at him.

“Jens, he’s a prince, that’s way cooler than you.”

Lucas laughs as Jens grows instantly offended, flicking her head lightly. She shies away and glares up at him. Lucas decides they’ll probably get along quite well.

“Yeah, Jens, I’m way cooler than you,” he teases, gratified at the face Jens pulls at him in response.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s super uncool to be trick-or-treating with your big brother, but who is the one who brought you the pretty prince, huh?”

Lucas blushes at the words and has to pretend he isn’t as Lotte examines him once more before shrugging in acceptance. “I don’t think princes skate though,” she wrinkles her nose.

“Cool princes do,” Jens mutters, but he takes the board from Lucas’s hands. “I’ll leave it just inside the gate so you can get it when we get back.”

Lucas watches him jog the few steps back to his house and tuck the skateboard against the front wall. In the minute he’s gone, Lucas does his best to ignore the still-stuttering beat of his heart and Lotte’s probing gaze. Maybe he should have given himself more time, before seeing Jens again, he thinks. Maybe then he would’ve had himself under better control. His blood wouldn’t be rushing so quickly to his cheeks, his head wouldn’t be spinning so much, his hands would stop shaking.

More likely, it’s his permanent condition around Jens now, and he’s fooling himself if he thinks otherwise.

Jens makes it back to them and sets a hand on Lotte’s shoulder to begin guiding her down the street, and within minutes her paper pumpkin basket is filling up with various treats. There are a few other kids running out, mostly all a little holder and in groups of at least three, but Lotte seems unbothered, skipping around on her own. Jens and Lucas follow along side by side, making up mini ghost stories inspired by the various decorations adorning the houses.

“How come you have nothing outside your house?”

Jens shrugs as Lotte runs up and eagerly rings another doorbell. “We wouldn’t have had any at all if Lies hadn’t come home. My parents don’t really think about these things.”

Lucas nods. “I didn’t think mine did, either. I’m surprised my dad put in the effort, but I think that’s what he was hoping.”

He has noticed that Jens has never asked him about his father, or his lack of any mention of his mother. He appreciates it more than he could say, this silent understanding Jens allows him. Even though he wants to tell Jens. Out of everyone, he would want to tell Jens.

He just isn’t sure he’s ready to go there. They haven’t reached that level of personal. Not quite yet.

It doesn’t stop Lucas from wanting to kiss him, though.

“Are you a fan of Halloween then?”

Lucas looks over at him with narrowed eyes. “Yeah? Aren’t you?”

Jens shrugs, smiling, and gestures to Lotte as she comes back to their side. “This is my Halloween. Are you a fan?”

“I would have preferred it if we at least got some treats ourselves,” Lucas admits.

“You can have some of mine.” Lotte suddenly looks up to him, eyes wide, the picture of innocence, and his heart melts slightly.

He shakes his head softly at her. “That’s okay, Lotte. You deserve them all. You look way cooler than me and him combined.”

It’s enough to make her beam, and she latches onto his hand to begin dragging him to the next house with her. “You should just come up with me. I know the lady who lives here. She’s nice.”

“Hey,” Jens calls from a few steps behind them. Lotte doesn’t pay him any attention. “Don’t I get offered some treats?”

“You get to hang out with your friend,” Lotte says simply.

Lucas is a little pleased when Jens doesn’t argue further. He gives Lotte’s hand a tug. “Why aren’t you trick-or-treating with your friends?”

She pouts at the street in front of her, swinging Lucas’s hand. “Mama says I’m too young and they live in a different place. But she said maybe next year.”

“Double digits,” Jens agrees, “then we’ll see.”

Lucas doesn’t go up to the next house with her, even when she turns her pout on him. But when she comes back, she does grab his hand again, only this time to place her tiny handful of sweets in it. He grins down at her, thanking her quietly, and then she’s back to beaming and skipping up to the next house.

Lucas looks at Jens and finds him gazing back softly, eyes bright and lips just slightly curved upwards. He’s still one of the prettiest people Lucas has ever seen, even in the dull glow of the darkening sky and the scattered streetlights. Lucas’s heart still takes a few beats out of rhythm.

Jens snaps his gaze away as he follows after his sister, but he walks closer to Lucas now, leaving their hands bumping every few steps. He only abandons Lucas’s side for a moment to chase after Lotte, ignoring her complaints as he crouches down to adjust one of her wings where it has folded back. He smooths down a few strands of her hair while he’s there and she finally offers him a smile, tugging at his hand now to get them moving again and still checking to make sure Lucas follows.

It’s odd for Lucas to realise there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

[jengajives]

The Fëanorians are very lacking in social skills.

“Nelyo!”

The voice was about the last one he wanted to hear, and he immediately stiffened as a panic tore through him like wildfire. He fumbled for a moment before practically ripping his hair out of its braids, letting it fall loose to hopefully cover up his neck. He spun, leaning back against the silvery anvil, hands behind him and trying hard to look casual.

“Father!” Maedhros squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Father! I thought you were at the feast. What are you-“

“I saw that bright-eyed rat slinking out of here,” Fëanor seethed as he stepped down into the forge. He was dressed in his ceremonial clothing and glittered with the rubies sewn into his robe; the array of dazzling gems set in his headdress might it very difficult to look at him directly in the eyes. Not that Maedhros wanted to do that at the moment. Fëanor glanced around warily, and then fixed his eldest in his gaze. “I think he was trying to steal something. You didn’t see him, did you?”

“Who?” Maedhros squeaked again, and cursed his voice for being so easily worn.

“The Valar’s pet snake,” Fëanor answered hotly. “That Melkor creature. Was he here?”

Maedhros’s gaze slid to the sword his father had taken to wearing, and he swallowed.

“Melkor? Oh, no. I haven’t seen him.”

Fëanor huffed haughtily, and started to walk around the workshop examining all his projects to ensure that nothing had been touched. “That slime is getting far too comfortable around here. I think it’s Fingolfin giving him ear, making him feel like he has the right to slink around like one of our own.”

“You really think Uncle would do that?” Maedhros asked, trying hard to sound casual, though he’d started sweating. “We all know how much you hate Melkor. I don’t think anyone in Tirion would indulge him, Uncle least of all.” A bead of sweat dripped off the tip of his nose but he caught it before it could plink on the floor.

“You have too much faith in him,” Fëanor spat. Once he finished examining all his works, he finally turned to focus on his son- exactly what Maedhros had been dreading.

He swallowed hard and tried not to look guilty, but Fëanor’s gaze was like a beam he couldn’t squirm away from, slowly peeling the skin away from him until his heart was open and exposed.

A frown crossed his father’s grim face.

“What’s this?”

He motioned directly to where Maedhros knew there had to be bruises blossoming dark alongside his throat, and everything went very dry.

“What do you mean?” he choked. Fëanor narrowed his eyes, then spoke slowly.

“You’re seeing someone.”

“N-No!”

“Don’t lie, Nelyo. Everyone knows you’ve been acting strange lately. Sneaking off all the time, daydreaming, now this...” He shook his head and a flicker of flame lit behind his pale silver eyes. “Who is it?”

“F-Father...” Maedhros stumbled over an excuse, mind desperately trying to conjure any explanation, anything that wasn’t “I’ve been sleeping with Melkor, the creature you hate most out of all existence, Father. Sorry!” Nothing would come to mind. Nothing he could say to avert this crisis.

“I-I was going to tell you,” he finally choked, but his pathetic sob was stoppered as his father unexpectedly clapped him on the back.

“Ingwion is very lucky,” Fëanor was saying. “You know he talks about you all the time. It’s really not much of a secret.”

“Ingwion?” Maedhros repeated, then abruptly collected himself and began to nod heartily. “Yes. Yes! Ingwion. I’ve been seeing him, but we’ve kept it secret. I just... I don’t want the others to know. I don’t think Curufin would like it very much if he knew. You understand though, don’t you, Father?”

“You are a silly boy,” Fëanor said scoldingly. “It’s a smart match. Anyone would approve. Though I have to warn you to be cautious with the golden-hairs; don’t let him go telling you lies about the Valar.”

“Of course, Father,” Maedhros choked, head spinning. He got another clap on the shoulder that made his whole body flinch.

“Good lad. Your mother is going to be very proud.”

“My mother,” he repeated numbly. “Yes. Of course everyone will want to know...”

Oh, dear.

“I’m very happy for you, Nelyo,” called Fëanor as he mounted the stairs again. “And keep an eye out for the rat, won’t you?”

Just like that he was gone, and Maedhros was left there utterly hollow and his mind too tired chasing itself in circles to race anymore.

He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just made things infinitely worse.

Melkor was going to think this was very funny. He didn’t particularly relish the thought.

“I always have time for you, Maitimo.”

Ingwion said with a smile as Maedhros stood shifting awkwardly foot to foot before him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well,” Maedhros said in a notably strangled voice, “yes, I... I’m afraid I must ask... I must ask you a favor, friend, but it’s... Well, it’s very strange. Very strange indeed, I just...” Again he shifted, unable to settle, restless and completely terrified to go on.

Ingwion liked him. Ingwion had never been anything but kind. This was too much to ask.

“Maitimo?” asked the prince in a voice that was way too approachable to be fair. “What troubles you?”

He was handsome, and that was irritating. Never Maedhros’s type, but certainly handsome. He had his people’s gleaming golden hair and a kindly face with brown skin that seemed to glow. It was inconsiderate of him to be so... so considerate. He had no right.

“I may have... mentioned to my father that we two are...” He stumbled, fingers twisting together, then just squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to finished. “I might have implied that the two of us are seeing each other.”

Ingwion stared at him for a long time before he seemingly remembered to react and said “Oh!”

“Which is bad,” Maedhros went on without glancing up, “because I’m... I’m seeing someone else. Someone my father really doesn’t like. But now he’s going to tell everyone that the two of us are... involved, so I’m a bit... I’m a bit stuck.”

There was an awful silence. Finally Ingwion spoke, cautiously.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“No one can know. My family would disown me if they-“

“It’s Melkor, isn’t it?”

Maedhros went stiff. Panic raced through him.

“How did you-“

“Let’s see.” Ingwion counted on his fingers. “Father hates him. Family would disown you. Bad enough to lie about, and then come to me looking for help. You would have told the truth if it was anyone else, Maitimo. You love your father more than that.”

“He can’t know,” Maedhros choked. “Ingwion, if he finds out-“

“I’ll make you a deal.” Ingwion smiled sadly at him. “If it was anyone else, I would be ringing the wedding bells for you too and feigning to be your betrothed if you needed me too. But I love the Valar too much and I do not trust Melkor for a second, especially when he pretends to be fair and kindly. He has nothing but suffering in mind for you and all your people, Maitimo. So I offer this. I will act the part of your beloved and keep your honor intact, if you swear never to see Melkor again. You must leave him, before he twists you up and destroys you. I won’t see it happen, and I can’t stand by and be complicit if you won’t try to stop it.”

“Never see him again?” Maedhros repeated in a choked voice.

“I want to help,” Ingwion said instead of a direct answer.

His stomach turned.

“But I-“

Ingwion held up a hand.

“Think on it, my friend. My offer stands.”

Maedhros nodded numbly. Without even thinking he turned to go, and behind him heard Ingwion’s gentle voice.

“I just want you to be safe...”

The words wouldn’t click, and he walked out of the hall in a daze and a daydream.

[thegoodgayshit]

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Emperor Belos and his Nuclear Eye Drops

Luz’s dream hadn’t given away just how deep the caves of Mount Pelion actually were.

There was a moment when she was running where it felt like she was just sliding straight down, and she panicked for a moment, praying to every god she could think of that she was going the right way.

The torches on the wall were her only source of light, and the screeching and shouting from the battle in the armory were getting quieter and quieter the farther down she descended.

As she walked, Luz realized that this was the first time she was alone, truly alone, since she’d hopped on a bus to escape from Lina on her last day of school. Luz had been alone most of her life, so she knew what it felt like, but she had forgotten how uncomfortable it really made her feel.

She’d made friends, fantastic, lovely, and incredible friends since she’d come to camp. She definitely wouldn’t have made it as far as she had without them. But now that she was alone, she felt every cut she’d gotten during the last few weeks’ worths of battles… every bruise, every sore muscle, every piece of hair that had fallen into place. Without her friends, exhaustion was creeping into her bones, and she was starting to wonder if she should have run away without anybody following her.

She was just one demigod. How was she going to do this on her own?

Eventually, she made it.

All at once, the cave felt familiar. Luz had seen it plenty of times before in her dreams, enough times that she instantly recognized the widening of the halls, the damp aroma of the cavern, and the sinking feeling in her gut that something very unnatural was lying within.

Then, she saw the portal.

Luz didn’t understand how it was possible, but it had somehow gotten even more terrifying than it was in her dreams.

It was still around the same size, but Luz was no longer able to see what lied within it. Instead, the ten foot tall border of obsidian and metal was protecting layers and layers of dark mist. Instead of having one little hearth on the top of the portal, now there was two huge flames sitting on either side of it. The smoke seemed to rise up in to the air and get sucked into the depth of the portal, sinking deeper and deeper until it wrapped into the mist entirely. Next to the portal was the small table and the chalice she had seen in her first dream, and while it looked expensive, it was quite underwhelming sitting next to something like the portal.

Dread started sinking into Luz’s stomach. How in Hades was she supposed to destroy that?

She heard the clanking of chains, and her gaze was ripped from the portal when she saw the cage, and the girl lying within.

She looked like a ghost. Luz hadn’t seen many goddesses before, but based on the ones she had seen, Luz had a hard time believing this girl could be one. She was so small and tiny she barely looked a day over nine, and she was bent over on her knees, her face pressed into the floor of the mountain pitifully. She was straining against the chains, but they might as well have been pinning her in place because despite the obvious effort she was putting in to move, she wasn’t budging an inch.

“Lady Hestia?”

The girl looked up, and Luz’s heart sank. Her eyes… they’d gotten so dark they almost looked black. All the warmth they’d had the first time Luz saw her in the cage was gone.

“You’re too late, brave one,” she said, and despite her voice being barely a whisper it cut through Luz’s ears like an icy wind. “Belos has stolen the last of my flame, and in mere moments the mountain will fall. You must run! Leave this place before it takes you with it.”

Luz froze, blinking. “Leave you? But I came all this way to free you.”

“Do not sacrifice yourself for this,” she insisted, “you have a chance to regroup and fight another day. Do not fulfill the prophecy here… not when the portal has already taken my flame and all the nightmares of the Underworld will rise and serve their Emperor!”

The prophecy. Amity had told her the rest of it… she’d said something like that… Luz wracked her brain trying to remember.

From what you find in the nightmare, a hero’s life ends.

There was another tremor, the whole mountain shaking right beneath Luz’s feet. She stumbled, gripping the side of the cave as the walls shook around her. Eventually, they began to subside, and Luz grit her teeth pulling herself to her feet.

Nobody’s life was going to end. She didn’t come all this way to fail.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Luz retorted, “if the mountain falls, there’s nothing any of us can do to stop Belos.”

So Luz made up her mind. With a furious scream, she charged, sprinting across the room towards the cage and hacking down with her sword. The metal bars split like she was cutting through paper, and five of the thick steel bars fell. Luz cut a hole through, leaning in to crouch down next to Hestia, who was still chained to the floor.

“This is foolish, hero,” Hestia warned, as Luz lifted her hands to examine the chains, looking for the right way to cut through. “The mountain-”

There was another tremor, the metal bars of the cage rattling. This one was much stronger than the last and lasted almost a full thirty seconds. Luz had to cling to the slashed metal to avoid falling on her own sword.

“Nobody is getting left behind,” Luz panted as the shaking subsided, “we promised Demophon we would free you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Demophon?” Hestia breathed, and for the first time since Luz found her, Hestia’s eyes seemed to flicker with warmth. “You spoke to him?”

Luz opened her mouth to reply, but Hestia’s eyes suddenly widened.

“The Mist!”

Luz cocked her brow, confused before she looked down and her eyes widened in horror. All around her, black mist had slowly begun to fill the area around the mangled cage, and Luz had to scramble back to avoid it. She didn’t miss it all though, and some of it managed to creep up around her face near her nose. She choked, her nostrils filled with the horribly familiar smell of rotting meat.

Death Mist.

Luz wasn’t proud of how fast she ran to get away, especially with Hestia trapped in the cage unable to move, but she couldn’t stand it. Her eyes had already started to water, and by the time she pressed back against the wall next to the door she’d come through, she wanted to drown herself in water just to get it out of her lungs. She debated turning and running when she heard his voice.

“Up-pup-pup! Don’t go anywhere. I’d actually like to have a word with you, demigod.”

All at once, the mist vanished. When Luz took a few shaky breaths, she looked up and saw him.

Belos was standing between her and Hestia, one hand on his staff, the other watching her with what looked almost like interest in his neon eyes. The horns on his golden mask leered over her, casting a shadow in the haze of the torches hanging along the mountain wall.

Luz glowered at the sight of him, all the rage towards the way he’d been tormenting her dreams rising up in one furious bubble. Gripping her sword tightly, she felt her mouth twist into an angry scowl.

“Let Hestia go, or else!”

She yelled and swung her sword, feeling it collide hard with Belos’ staff as he raised it to block her. Luz strained against it, but he was completely unmoveable.

“Okay,” Belos said, and all at once, Luz felt him push, sending her skidding backward against the mountain floor. “I’ll play.”

He charged, his staff extending into a wicked four-foot sword, and Luz’s eyes widened. She did the only thing she could think to do; deflect.

Belos was stronger than her in every way imaginable. He had speed, strength, and strategy. If it wasn’t for Luz’s adrenaline keeping her dodging and deflecting, he would have already sliced her open.

She was gritting her teeth with every move, her chest heaving as she looked for an opening. She reared back, swinging at his shoulder when she thought he might be leaning too hard on the other side, but she nearly got her hair chopped off the top when he spun and swung right above where she was standing.

She was going to lose, and he knew it.

“What’s wrong, demigod? I thought you wanted a fight.”

With one brutal kick, he knocked Luz backward. She fell right onto her knees, Aletheia skidding away from her hand and back into a ring. Luz covered it with her left hand, breathing hard as Belos pointed his sword at her, tilting his head.

“Had enough?”

He was about two feet away. The perfect opening.

“Not even close,” Luz smirked, scooping up the ring and flinging it right towards his face. The ring shifted into a knife, striking him right in the left eye. Belos hissed, recoiling as there was a shattering sound, a piece of his mask falling at her feet. He clutched his face, and Luz scooped the knife into her hands, clutching it while she heaved on the ground, still recovering from his kick.

But she’d made a mark.

Belos chuckled, his back still turned from her, and Luz watched as his hand covered over his eye.

“I like your spirit,” he said, turning to look at Luz. His mask was chipped, two thick lines running above it. It made his neon eyes look more menacing like he’d been using nuclear eye drops.

“Try that again and things won’t end well for you.”

Belos turned, kicking Luz again and sending her spinning into the ground. She coughed, clutching her chest as she struggled to look up at him.

“I am just a man on a mission. In the grand scheme of things, the goddess’ life is inconsequential. But now, you’re here. And the mountain is falling, whether we like it or not.”

Luz was wincing as she looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowing as she listened to what he was saying.

“If you want to save the life of everybody here in the mountain, let me use the portal. I will bring my army through, and spare the life of your friends, and the hearth goddess.”

It was an impossible choice. One that put Luz right between a rock and a hard place. She couldn’t pick.

“But… Olympus…” she whispered, biting her lip.

The mountain shook again, and Luz cried out as the shock of it flattened her right against the ground. This time, the mountain was not left unscathed, and the earth began to shift, the back wall of the cavern splitting away from the earth. Chunks of rock collapsed, and Luz shouted in terror as the wall of the cavern fell back and into the open air, and light suddenly rushed into the room. The back of the mountain dropped like an avalanche, and thank the gods it didn't take Hestia's cage with it, just some of the huge metal crates Luz had hidden behind in her dreams when she was spying. As bright morning light hit her face, Luz winced, doing her best to blink it out and take stock. She was alive, and the tremors hadn't dropped her off the mountain yet.

But it was also just after dawn, which meant it had almost been forty-eight hours since they left the Blight manor.

They were almost out of time.

Belos chuckled menacingly as the tremor’s eventually subsided, and it looked like he hadn’t even been phased by the earthquake.

“You probably think I want to invade Olympus. But the will of my army is not so boorish. We want to purify this world, rid them of the gods and every awful thing they stand for. There will be order and peace, a chance for demigods and the will of man to decide the fate of the world.”

“You want to take this world all for yourself,” Luz spat, glaring up at him. He tilted his head curiously at her outburst, but let her talk. She wondered if he found it humorous. Probably.

“You think getting rid of the gods will solve our problems?” Luz exclaimed, getting slowly to her feet, clenching her knife tightly against her chest. “That it will fix everything wrong with this world? Look at what you’ve done! You’ve brought back heroes from beyond the grave and instead of making things better you’ve only made the lives of demigods worse!”

She pointed her knife at him accusingly, all the frustration she was feeling from the quest, and her life back at camp, and from the way this quest has treated her friends… treated Amity. All this chaos and pain was Belos’ fault.

“You’ve done nothing but hurt the people I care about since I realized I was a demigod. You’re no better than the gods you hate.”

There was a twitch in Belos’ face that Luz might not have seen had she not broken a part of his mask. For a moment, Luz thought he was going to charge. She would have been dead, with him holding a sword and her the knife. But then, he straightened, turning away from her and towards the portal that was swirling again. The mist was getting thicker and thicker, the flames next to it rising higher and higher… and Luz realized what was about to happen.

It was going to open again.

“I think it’s best you reconsider,” Belos said, watching it. “Tik-Tok, demigod, time is almost out. Attack me, and die. Leave this place, and your friends shall live.”

The portal began to glow a deep purple, and the mist changed. Now, it was translucent, and Luz could see with terrified eyes the horrors that were behind it. Armies upon armies of the undead, souls waiting to come back to this world. They were clawing at the door, waiting to be the next one out.

The flames around the portal began to rise, and Hestia groaned from behind her chains. The mountain started shaking, and Luz knew then it was too late. She was out of time.

Then, her eyes locked on the chains.

The chains.

How far away were they? Ten feet? Fifteen? Much farther than the strings at Orpheus’ manner. She’d probably just hit Hestia. But she had no choice. There was nothing else she had up her sleeve, no other tricks she could pull. It was her last chance.

So, she threw her knife.

It sailed through the air, slashing through one of the chains right as Belos realized what she’d done. He twisted, his eyes following the knife as it made its mark, cutting through the ones wrapped around Hestia’s right hand. For a moment, the portal weakened, the mist darkening, and Luz could no longer see the hundreds of souls of the other side.

But she’d only cut one chain. She hadn’t done it, Hestia was still locked against the ground, her knees wrapped, one hand free to desperately try and throw the knife back towards Luz. It clattered against the floor to the right of Belos, just past his shoulder.

She’d never get there. She knew it. She’d failed.

Roaring, Belos turned, rearing his sword up and swinging towards her. Luz squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the slice that would inevitably kill her. She’d never be able to dodge, not without a weapon, and certainly not without Belos catching her.

But when she closed her eyes, she wasn’t greeted by death.

“Luz!”

She felt a body slamming into her from the side, sending her reeling against the mountain floor. She gasped as she landed hard on her stomach, her eyes flying open to see what hit her.

Well, more like who.

Amity had blocked the strike, meeting Belos’ sword with her own. She’d shoved Luz out of the way, and she’d managed to keep Luz alive, if not for a few seconds.

“Bah!” Belos spat, glaring at her. “Aphrodite’s brat. I see Achilles was thwarted by you yet again.”

“He should have thought twice before taking on a Blight!” She hissed, pushing back and swinging again. Belos blocked it, his eyes narrowing. Amity had always been better with a sword than Luz. The sight of it began to fill Luz’s chest with hope. The tables were starting to turn.

Luz scooped up Aletheia, shifting it into a sword, and charged, rearing back to swing at Belos while he was occupied with Amity.

He saw her coming, sidestepping both of them. Now, Luz and Amity were side by side, guarding the portal with their swords raised. Their eyes were narrowed in determination, their bodies tensed in a silent agreement.

They wouldn't let him open that portal. Whatever it took, they were going to stop him.

Belos’ eyes shifted between them, before spinning his sword into a staff. The pole was double-edged, with a foot of wicked bronze on either end. Perfect for when you were outnumbered.

The mountain rumbled again, and Amity gasped, stumbling. Luz reached over and caught her, dropping both of them to their knees while the quakes wracked through the cavern. Even Belos shifted, needing to grip his staff with both hands to keep himself steady. When they subsided, Luz helped Amity to her feet.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, and the daughter of the love goddess whipped her head to look at her like she had three heads.

“Am I okay? I’m not the one who ran off to try and free Hestia on her own!” She hissed, and Luz winced, shrugging her shoulders.

“Lilith saw an opening and told me to run.”

Behind them, the portal's flames popped, rising up again despite Luz cutting one of the chains. In the cage, Hestia flinched, but she was now at least on her knees and pulling at the other chain trying to free herself. Belos was stepping closer to them, his eyes narrowed, obviously angry.

This was a bad situation. One that kept getting worse. But at least now she wasn’t alone.

Luz turned back to Belos, gripping her sword tightly. “You’re outnumbered. Surrender, and close the portal for good.”

Belos chuckled and shook his head, his staff pressing hard into the ground leaving white slashes along the rocky floor.

“Oh no, demigod. We are not done here,” he said, lifting his left hand. The mountain got colder, the temperature dropping as Belos flicked his hand, and Death Mist curled out from around his cloak.

“Before this mountain falls, I am going to kill you both. Then I will open that portal and run Olympus to the ground.”

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 20: Oops! All Supports #2

You know, now that Ryoma and Felicia have joined us, we actually have all of our main units. Let’s learn a bit more about them via mediocre Support Conversations.

Support: Corrin/Ryoma

C: Corrin asks Ryoma to tell her about what their siblings were like as children. Ryoma doesn’t, because he’s busy.

B: Ryoma talks about what the siblings were like as kids. Hinoka was a crybaby and the other three were exactly the same as they are as adults. Ryoma also talks about how he wishes Takumi had more mental fortitude, Azura opened up more, and Sakura took better care of herself. It’s nice that he cares so much about his siblings, but also Ryoma is roasting them.

A: Corrin is sad about having missed her life with the Hoshidans and Ryoma promises to make new memories with her. He also gives Corrin a ring the Hoshidans made as children and promised they would give to Corrin as soon as she returned. I guess they all forgot until now.

S: Ryoma reveals that Corrin isn’t a blood relative, something that he’s known for years and never told Corrin. This makes everything he does in Conquest really weird. Also, it’s kinda messed up that he lied to Corrin constantly up until now. Corrin states that Sumeragi, who died saving her, is still her father. Then Ryoma proposes and they get married. Ugh. I wonder how the other siblings would react to Ryoma marrying their sister, because the letter doesn’t exist in this timeline.

Review: Ignoring the inceSt Rank conversation, this isn’t great. Corrin wanting to learn about her past is good, but it only happens in the B-Rank. Ryoma vowing to make new memories is good, admittedly, but I wanted more from this one.

Support: Kaze/Setsuna

C: Setsuna sneaks up on Kaze by accident, because apparently she’s uncomparably stealthy when spaced out. Kaze offers to train her to become a ninja.

B: Setsuna falls in a pit and Kaze helps her escape.

A: Setsuna, thanks to Kaze’s help, learns to escape from the traps she constantly gets caught in. Kaze decides that Setsuna should stick to being an archer.

S: Kaze explains that he’s been spending so much time with Setsuna because he’s constantly worried she’ll accidentally kill herself. He proposes so he can always be around to protect her.

Review: Okay, but just okay. Setsuna accidentally being sneaky is fun and Kaze worrying about her is cute, but that’s about it.

Support: Hana/Jakob

C: Hana asks Jakob to train with her. He is very rude to her.

B: Jakob makes fun of Hana for training. Hana explains that she trains so hard so she can protect Sakura, something Jakob somehow didn’t figure out.

A: Jakob agrees to spar with Hana so he can become stronger for Corrin.

S: Jakob proposes.

Review: This one has some good dialogue, with Hana and Jakob bouncing off one another in a fun way, but the plot is lacking and Jakob is a bit too mean.

Support: Azura/Hinoka

C: Hinoka apologizes for ignoring Azura recently, which is a thing that she’s been doing I guess.

B: Azura and Hinoka go shopping together.

A: Hinoka gives Azura a necklace she made.

Review: None of these are very good. Worse, they don’t even flow together. It’s a shame Hinoka and Azura’s line is mediocre; Hinoka’s characterization is centered around her losing Corrin, and Azura was essentially a replacement for Corrin. There could be some great drama derived from their interactions, but this Support Line is incredibly mediocre.

Support: Felicia/Subaki

C: Subaki is terrified of Felicia because of her klutziness. This makes Felicia cry and throw wet laundry at him.

B: Felicia, upset over the C-Rank, almost ruins dinner. Subaki, hiding in the pantry, stops her.

A: Felicia, thanks to Subaki’s help, makes a good meal.

S: Subaki says he loves Felicia because of the chaos she brings.

Review: This one was cute. Subaki freaking out over Felicia being cursed is fun, as is him injuring himself to protect her.

Support: Sakura/Silas

C: Sakura tries to ask Silas something, but can’t spit it out because of anxiety.

B: Sakura, still unable to spit it out, tries to examine Silas. She mutters something about a curse.

A: Sakura finally explains what’s going on. She thinks Silas is cursed and has fake memories, which is actually a really interesting idea. He says he doesn’t.

S: Silas is sick...lovesick! He proposes to Sakura by pretending to be unable to breathe. Normally it’d be cute, but Sakura’s a medic and I feel like messing with her head like that is uncalled for.

Review: I like how the game acknowledges that Silas is a dumb character who they should have given a better backstory. Setting that aside, this one isn’t great. Sakura spends three Supports mumbling before she explains what’s going on. Remember, these supports are usually read days apart by players.

Support: Mozu/Saizo

C: Saizo finds Mozu farming, the most important thing to do while you’re invading an evil empire. Saizo offers to help her out, because he grew crops as a child in the mountains.

B: Mozu cooks for Saizo and he likes it because it reminds him of the country.

A: The same thing as the B-Rank.

S: Saizo offers to take Mozu back to his village and proposes.

Review: This one is surprisingly cozy and nice for a Saizo support. Not bad.

Support: Hayato/Hinoka

C: Hayato fins Hinoka folding origami cranes. She explains the classic paper crane wish trope and Hayato offers to help.

B: Hayato supplies Hinoka with papers enchanted with magic charms.

A: Hinoka completes the charms with Hayato’s help.

S: As Hinoka teaches Hayato more origami, he proposes because of her compassion.

Review: Not bad. Calm, but nice. I especially like the detail of young Hinoka folding cranes and wishing for Sumeragi’s safety. I guess she didn’t fold enough.

Support: Azama/Rinkah

C: Rinkah goes to Azama for healing and refers to him as a heretic. Azama refuses to heal her. She then dies in a battle with a swordmaster who proceeds to eviscerate Azama, because that is what happens when you don’t heal your allies.

B: Rinkah points out that calling Azama a heretic is justified, because he is an atheist. Azama does not deny this and explains that he’s a monk not because of faith, but because his parents were. Rinkah goes full Jehovah’s Witness on Azama and demands he worship her fire god, who is also apparently a dragon because every Fire Emblem diety is a dragon.

A: Rinkah suggests Azama stop being a monk and he explains that he’s a monk because he’s good at healing people and put in a lot of work to become one. Rinkah begrudgingly accepts this.

S: Rinkah and Azama agree to go on a pilgrimage to a mountain associated with the god of flame together. Also Azama proposes because he likes arguing with Rinkah.

Review: I have very mixed feelings on this one. Azama’s atheism is such an interesting idea that hasn’t shown up in any other supports yet. I don’t really think this support uses the concept as well as it could, and Rinkah is unbearable during this one, but it is a line that gives Azama depth.

Support: Kaden/Oboro

C: Kaden finds Oboro making braided bracelets. She offers to teach him how to braid.

B: Kaden tries and fails at braiding.

A: Oboro finishes Kaden’s braid for him and gives it to him as a gift. Kaden praises Oboro’s passion and Oboro thanks him for giving her company. Then he tries to quit and she drags him back.

S: Kaden finally makes a braid, which he proposes with. It’s cute.

[themadauthorshatter]

I should probably back-track to Ninjago Season 1.

I've been excited for the rewrite of Episode 7😈

For context, in Episode 4, we'd see Zane's "green ninja" dream, which Wu would ask he share. He does fully; he half truths it to the others, exceot Cole, who gets pushy. Like I said in Episode 5's rewrite, he collapsed and heard the falcons shouting his name.

This is also the episode, hopefully, where Zane talks the most. And there's a lot of glaciershipping in this one.

We start in the dead of night, as a pan over the ninja shows they are all sleeping peacefully. All except for Zane, who we see close up tossing and turning as he writhes and groans in a cold sweat, possibly having a seizure and a nightmare.

In this nightmare, Zane sprints through a wooded area as hands and snake tails reach out to grab him. He's tired, sweaty, and really doesn't want to be grabbed because he doesn't want to know what could be waiting to pull him to his doom.

Thankfully, he breaks through the foliage and lands infront of a pair of a certain black clad six year old.

"Lloyd?" He asks as he stands. "Lloyd, thank goodness. Sensei has been worried sick. Quickly, we must-"

"Why, Zane?"

It rattles Zane to his core that a girl's voice comes oit of Lloyd's mouth, but not enough to pull him close as dark figures approach and surround them.

Zane pulls Lloyd close and unsheathes his shurikens to defend the two of them.

It gets worse when Zane can't move because the figures are armed men, not serpentine.

Lloyd asks him, 'Why?' again, and this time Zane backs away because half of Lloyd's face looks sunken in while the other looks fine enough considering how he's crying and coughing up blood, as in his tears are also blood.

He loses his shurikens and, in his panic to gind them in black colored snow, gets a muzzle to the cranium and a boot to the stomach.

"The hell's your problem!?" He gets another kick, this time to the face. "First you ask for a fight, and now you can't even make it a good one!?" Zane groans as the soldier stomps on his ear. "You little coward! You worthless, spineless bastard!"

As he tries blicking all the hits as more soldiers join in, Zane hears numerous people screaming his name, begging the soldiers to stop. He sees the messed version of Lloyd try to reach him, even though he's being held back by a smirking Pythor.

He cries for it all to stop, the screaming, the kicks and punches, and the pain he's in, quiet at first, but soon shouting as loudly as he can.

"STOP IT!" Zane screams as he shoots off his back and readies a kunai under his pillow; all you need to know is that Kai and Jay tried pulling a prank, and it went TERRIBLY wrong, and he feels safer, despite being among friends.

Regardless, Zane pants as he looks around and sees that the others are sleeping soundly, even though there's some movement from Cole's bed, like he just got back into it. (Hmmmmm?)

He calms down and holds a hand against his very sweaty forehead, very much shaken and stirred by his nightmare as he groans and rest his head against his knees. "Damn. Why?"

Hope you noticed that detail of Cole moving because we cut to his perspective as he lies on his side and pretends to be asleep. He's really just keeping his eyes on the wall as he listens for any more distress from Zane, who cautiously leaves his own bed and the bunk rooms entirely.

After a minute, Cole quickly gets up and follows him. He doesn't bother trying to be quiet because Kai and Jay can sleep through anything.

It's night and the moon is out, which gives the perfect lighting for Cole to look for Zane on the deck, where he is not.

He looks up and finds him on the mast, more specifically the part that actually holds the sails.

With Zane, he's sitting and switching between staring at the sky and staring at the kunai knife from his pillow, turning it in his hand and sort of inspecting it, not noticing Cole climb up to meet him.

"You know, you're pretty hard to wake up, especially when you're having those seizures."

Zane bites back a retort as Cole joins his side, egging him on to express himself.

"For the leader of the tean, you are terribly disciplined."

Cole takes the jab, and asks what he dreamed of, seeing as how shaken up Zane is.

Zane shrugs it off and simply half-lies that he's worried about Lloyd, hoping that he's okay. Cole agrees and asks for Zane to try and go back to bed, because it's late.

As Cole goes back to bed, Zane stares back up at the sky, seeing a very vague shape of the falcon fly above.

Cut to the serpentine, who walk to an underground cavern with Lloyd, who's in a cage and really doesn't want to be here.

Like before, Pythor needs the general's staffs to reaveal the silver fang blades on a map.

They set it down on a "table" with the staffs just strewn around it like before, and they all sit and play the waiting game.

Yeah, short jump cut, but the serpentine play a minor role here.

Back with the ninja, Zane is under water because he dropped a training shuriken and just stayed under because he's still stressed about the nightmare.

He stays under for almost an hour and a half before resurfacing.

They ask if he's okay, and Cole covers for him that they might be reaching their full potential.

We get the 'full potential' talk with Wu and the origin of how Garmadon became evil, though the only thing I'm changing in the origin story is that we'd get a flashback of Wu and Garmadon talking, where Garmadon attacks Wu and screams in his face that it's his fault Garmadon's on pain and sick from the snake venom. Their father pulls them apart and Wu runs, terrified as Garmadon shouts that he's weak, a coward, and should be the one who got bit.

Wu leaves and, TV perspective, we get a pan shot of the ninja seeing him off, though we focus on Zane, who's still contemplating the whole "break through your inner limits to reach your full potential" and wonders what's holding him back, considering all he knows about himself. We fade to the ninja enacting their greatest plan yet: using fliers to get info or locations on the fang blades; they already searched a library and archives and found nothing.

Zane's zoning out until Jay shakes him out of it. "Hey! Keep up, man! We need to put up as many of these as possible."

Now it's Kai's turn to ask what's wrong, citing how Zane woke up screaming, was distant all morning and is a lot quieter than usual, even refusing to be carried on Cole's back.

Before he can respond, Zane spots a little girl being picked on by two other kids, a boy and another girl. Good thing her older brother saves her and scares them off.

Rather than a seizure, it gives him a very bad headache, one that makes him fall to the ground and drop the fliers, much to the annoyance of some passersby.

Cole holds him as Kai and Jay pick up, though they aren't focused on their task for long as the spot the falcon.

Nya, who's totally been hear the whole time, takes up putting up the fliers as the ninja go after it, first by foot, with Zane on Cole's back where he belings, before switching to their vehicles, where Zane must ride with Kai as he has another headache, though the death metal grunge trash Kai listens to does absolutely nothing except piss him off.

When they're back on their feet, the sky's getting darker as dusk approaches and Jay falls behind because he may be fast, but he can't run forever.

Kai, Cole, and Zane continue, until Kai falls behind, then followed by Cole, who we stay with as Zane races onward. He calls for Zane to stop as he catches his breath, finds the 'Beware of treehorns' sign, and wonders to himself how Zane can run forever like that.

Speaking of Zane, he sprints after the falcon, demanding where it's taking him.

It continues to fly until it falls, panting as it instead hops onward.

Zane stops running and, getting uncomfortable, goes for and turns on a small flashlight in his pocket.

Turns out that stupid bird led him to a graveyard, which he learns by seeing numerous tombstones in the light.

"I apologize for breathing on all of you."

The falcon chirps, and Zane follows, finding it on top of a tombstone that is next to many other tombstones, all the first names different, but the last names the same. A family. The falcon pecks on the one it's perched on and Zane reads it.

'Zane Silver. Beloved son, and a brave fighter. May he rest in peace.'

The falcon walks away from the grave and leads Zane to a large tree...

Where a cougar-robot hybrid thing leaps out in front of him, growling and hissing at him

Zane fights it, even though it beats him senseless, and prevails.

Good thing, too, because the falcon pecks at the tree, which Zane opens to find the 'lab' from before, except it's bigger and the lights turn on when he steps inside.

The falcon makes a rough landing on a desk, amd Zane follows in half-wonder, asking why it brought him to here and the graveyard.

He gets his answer when he examines the papers and journal on the desk. TV perspective, we don't see what he's reading, but he removes his hood and shows confusion before that melts away into utter fear and despair, shaking his head and muttering, "No," over and over again as he searches them all over again in a crazy jump cut montage that shows his face, controted with pain and even more Danganronpa style despair, his hands practically tearing through the papers and journal pages, and flashes of his dreams and images of people he doesn't remember meeting(yet).

Unable to take the pain, Zane throws the journal, shouts, "NO!" and collapses as he hears the screaming from his nightmare, and even the sound of people just saying things to him.

We don't see the images, but we hear the voices, which stop as Zane, clutching his head as he screams at the very top of his lunges.

CUT TO THE SERPENTINE!!! That piece of paper has done nothing and they're all sitting and being bored. Maybe we can have a gag of a Constricti and a Hypnobri playing poker as Lloyd watches, just for shits and giggles.

Pythor, however, isn't in the mood for that, and growls that something MUST be missing.

Hope you remembered that drawing of either Garmadon or a shaded figure drawing blood on a map, because Skales wonders if blood mixed with the Great Devourer's venom will help, seeing as how Garmadon was bitten by the thing.

He and Pythor turn to Lloyd, who panics as they approach him. The Hypnobri, however, grabs him arm and holds his hand out to the two of them, and Pythor shushes Lloyd as he rubs his head.

We see the serpentine all brace themselves for what's going to happen next, but breathe a sigh of relief when Pythor simply pricks Lloyd's finger and takes a small amount of it and returns to the table.

He drips it on the paper and, through the power of some magic BS I can't explain, it makes a map of ninjago, but no location of the fang blades.

So they're back to watching and waiting, except Lloyd, who's seriously planning on how he can escape.

BACK WITH THE NINJA!

They find the tree lab and see Zane lying on the ground on his side with the falcon trying to get under his hand, so it can get pets.

Cole rushes to his side and shoos the bird away before pulling Zane into a sitting position to see if he's hurt.

He's fine, but his eyes are red and puffy, his hair is messier than Kai's, and his cheeks are heavily tear stained.

Kai and Jay catch up and they ask if he's okay, what happened, how did he end up like this, etc.

He just shoves past all of them and sprints out of the tree lab, journal in hand, which prompts them to follow, the falcon on Cole's shoulder and pretending to fly because it's exhausted from flying for real.

"Can't the guy just WALK for once!?" Kai shouts, "We've already done enough running!"

Fade to them walking through the trees, with Kai lighting the way with his sword, as they reach the cemetery and Zane.

He's kneeling and holding on to his tombstone as he shakily weeps. They're all at a loss of words for seeing him like this.

Cole approaches and puts a hand on his shoulder, asking him what's going on with him.

Zane sighs and takes a breath before standing and moving away from the tombstone, so the others can see it.

Without looking at them, he takes a scalpel that was in the journal, which he tosses to them, and unties his gi so his torso is showing.

GORE TW, even though it's not that explicitly shown in TV perspective, Zane carves lines into his body, a straight line that goes between his pelvic bones, a straight line going up from that line, his stomach, and stopping at his heart, and to diagonal lines that meet at the vertical line, making a Y shape.

The ninja are horrified, especially at the fact he didn't even react.

Zane meets their eyes, sad and very emotionally drained, and pulls his skin back to reveal a bunch of mechanisms and gizmos inside his body, especially the core I talked about in his character touch-up post.

They all scream, and this is what follows:

"Y-You...," Kai stammers. "Zane, you're-"

"You're a ROBOT!?" Jay shouts.

Zane sighs and shakes his head. "No, Jay. I... I am not a robot."

Kai babbles on about nonsense in the background with his hands in his hair as Jay pales and Cole only slowly shakes his head.

"You're... No. You can't be. How!?"

"I do not know," Zane admits as he holds his head in his hands. "I just learned myself, and... I don't know."

Kai calms down and states, "Hey, we just learned this, too, so maybe we can figure it out together. I mean, you have all the time in the world now, so..."

"A-and it probably explains why you didn't get jokes before, right?" Jay offers.

Cole glares at them both, but Zane continues.

"Didn't get jokes before. How could I when I did not even remember?"

Zane turns to the other graves and drops back onto his hands and knees.

"Wait," Kai murmurs. "'Remember?'"

"Yes. I believe I am starting to remember, but I do not yet know everything. Someone killed me and I had been brought back to life. That lab was where I... resided for many years."

"Why'd you leave?" Cole asks as he kneels next to Zane.

Zane only clenches his fist on the ground. "I... don't remember."

"Didn't you just say-"

"Kai, didn't I just say I do not yet know everything?" Zane snaps, effectively shutting him up before continuing. "I remember asking someone to make me forget, but... what was so awful that I had to force myself and my mind into hiding?"

He breaks down again, but this time, Cole puts an arm on his shoulder.

The ninja comfort him and tell him he's still Zane, even with the elephant in the room of him being not exactly alive.

They try motivating him to fighting again, but he tells them he'll catch up, because he needs a serious minute to think about what he just learned; he has been dead for a WHILE now.

The ninja leave him, but are then swarmed by treehorns, though it's a harder fight because it's night out. Yeah, that cougar-ribot thing was meant to keep them away.

Zane hears rhem and races to help, but he too get his ass handed to him as his powers are stunted from learning the truth. He ebds uo getting thrown into the tree lab, where he tumbles down the steps and breaks his fall on the desk before hitting the ground. (As Cinemawins would say: Brutal).

We cut back to the fight, and see the ninja do well enough until they don't. Cole, especially, who frantically shouts for Zane, having not seen him step in earlier.

Good thing I bring up Zane, because he comes to and finds the falcon in front of him. He sits up and asks what it's teying to tell him and why, seeing as how he knows the truth.

Silly Zane. Knowing is not understanding.

The falcon gives him the journal and flips to the very first page, which Zane begrudgingly reads.

We get a voice over from the writer as he talks about how, as a 'taboo' scientist, he's had to choose serving the army over being executed, how the village he's stationed in really maked him want to continue his research, and how he met a boy that's really caught his attention, one with quite a large family, a mother, father, grandfather, uncle, 3 cousins, and 5 siblings, where the boy was the second oldest-having learned from having dinner with them after a mishap in the street.

Zane has another headache and sees flashes of this family, and the man who wrote the journal, who, as a slight gag, sits very uncomfortably between two arguing twins before they ask this secind eldest to take a side.

He reads on and remembers more, seeing more of his family, that he did indeed die, get resurrected, and lived until the doctor-soldier died of old age and left Zane alone.

The mechanisms and circuits meant to keep these memories away give, and Zane weeps at all of this new found knowledge, even the fact that HE HIMSELF asked to forget his family.

That word catches him: Family.

He may have had his adopted family, who are all dead, but then there's his new family. Sensei Wu, Cole, Jay, Nya, Kai, and Lloyd. People he's laughed with, semi-cried with, trained with, fought with, people he genuinely doesn't like, but people he really loves with every ounce and fiber of his being.

The falcon watches Zane collect himself and examine the core and mechanisms in his body, remembering the doctor, his father, tell him it will keep him alive, and that it, ironically, makes him more human because his heart is literally bigger than his brain, amd humans are usually more emotional than logical.

With a rush of vigor, Zane seals up his torso with some skin glue, ties his gi back up, and races back outside.

Thank goodness because Cole is being thrown like a rag doll, Kai's exhausted, and Jay's about to become fast food, which Zane prevents by dive-tackling him and tossing him a few yards away, making some snow for him to land in, which surprises them both.

Zane ignores it for now and saves Kai and Cole, the latter almost hugging him before Zane shouts that they need to focus.

They regroup, amd we get an Avengers spin around them, because it's cool, and they leap back into it, Zane lending a huge hand as he uses his ice powers to help them, given their injuries.

As they continue fighting, Zane can't help but notice he feels extremely light on his feet, like a weight's off his shoulders.

They fight off a majority of the treehorns before the queen struts her way in, and Zane is more than happy to oblige her a challenge.

The ninja tell him they can ALL take her, but, TV perspective with Zane's back to the camera, the white ninja states, more serious than he's ever been in his life, "I lost my family once to a power hungry monster. I refuse to let it happen again."

The snow on the ground circles Zane and he glows brightly as the queen of the nest snaps at him.

He levitates and holds a hand out, shooting ice at her at freezing her into a treehorn-cicle.

The other treehorns back off as Zane floats back to the ground.

His powers cease and Zane sighs as he falls back onto his rear, panting as the ninja join him and tell him how awesome that all was, Cole especially so as he asks how Zane did all that.

Zane admits he doesn't know, but reveals he now remembers EVERYTHING, his life from before he died, that he died trying to keep them and others safe, that he'd been brought back and 'raised' by his father, who erased his memory for him before dying himself, and how Wu RE-FOUND Zane and let him join the team. He remembers playing with his siblings, and annoying his older sibling, remembers helping his father-the doctor- with his research and how they even played chess. He remembers that dying SERIOUSLY hurt and was killed for trying to save an old man who was getting hurt. He remembers having his mind physically altered so he wouldn't remember, and that the seizures were due to his mind literally fighting itself.

For those in back, HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

The ninja are all silent upon hearing this and, knowing he'd been the first to ask, Kai apologizes for everything Zane's been through, especially with the seizures.

Zane shakes his head, admitting with tears in his eyes he's too glad for words he remembers. He now knows that he wants to keep others safe, even the team, and hopes he can still help in stopping Pythor.

He's still in, and the group decide to camp out at the tree lab for the night before heading back, though as they settle in, Zane is about to drift off before he feels his old bed creak and someone hold him close with their arms around his shoulders.

It's Cole, though the falcon hops its way to Zane and falls asleep next to him, glad to have him back.

Back with the serpentine, they've all had it, tired of waiting and having their time wasted before they discover the venom in the staffs and use it ro reveal the fang blades' locations.

The episode ends with Pythor holding the map up in victory and Lloyd staring at the map in fear of what's to come

[depressedkakashihatake]

Kakagai for 82 “I’m not your boss? Well then who is?”💕

AO3 Link

In the twenty-six years that he has been a shinobi there was never any time where Kakashi had thought to himself ‘yes, i would like to sit in an office and do paperwork all day’. 

Not one, single moment.

He wasn’t judging those who wanted to be Hokage. In fact he’s pretty sure Obito never knew just how much reading was involved when one accepted the position. Even he had been surprised by the tall piles of paperwork he was greeted with on his first day, and he had heard Tsunade-sama complain about the ‘never ending paperwork’ multiple times.

He had made the mistake of thinking she was exaggerating.

“You’re almost there.” Peering up over the top of the report in his hands, he narrowed his eyes. There was a playful tone in Gai’s voice that didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t the sound of a man excited for a challenge, or someone who had plans for the rest of his day that he wanted to get started on as soon as possible.

No. This was the voice Gai used when he allowed himself to enjoy someone else’s suffering. 

“If you’re going to start teasing me you can leave.” he offered, even though that was the complete opposite of what he wanted to happen. He had invited Gai to spend the morning hanging out in his office because he missed the company. With Tenzo working around the clock to organize their ranks and hand out missions, the only people he saw at work were the council members, Shizune and whoever else he had the misfortune of having a scheduled meeting with.

The only time he saw Gai these days was when he finally got home after a long day of meetings, paperwork, and more human interaction then he had ever wanted in his life. 

“If i leave you’ll just stop doing your paperwork and start reading your book instead. Or you’ll escape the watchful eyes of your Anbu guards and make Tenzo angry when they interrupt his work to ask for help finding you.” Both things that he was actually very likely to do. The second option was particularly fun because it kept his Anbu guards on their toes. Sometimes they needed a reminder to keep an eye on him at all times.

Not that it would help them at all. He had his ways of escaping even if they do have eyes on him. 

“Gai, are you saying you’re only here to keep an eye on me?” Setting the report down he propped his elbows on the desk and laid his head in his hands. “That’s not very nice. I thought you liked to spend time with me.”

“I do like spending my time with you,” Gai assured him. “I prefer to spend time with you doing challenges, getting food or relaxing by the river.’

Just the thought of getting out of his office for some food has him glaring at the small mound of paperwork left on his desk. Seeing Gai laugh and challenge him to some ridiculous over the top competition, or relaxing by the river and napping in Gai’s arms. All of it sounded so much more interesting and enjoyable than the work he was stuck here doing.

“Tell you what,” Rolling himself forward, Gai stopped directly in front of the desk. “If you finish the paperwork in…” he examined the pile and thought for a moment. Kakashi could only guess that he was doing some math in his head to figure out an appropriate time limit to give him. “Let’s say half an hour?”

Half an hour?

He could have it done in twenty minutes if he really wanted to, but half an hour still required a lot of focus. More than he was really willing to put into doing paperwork. Especially since he actually had five hours left to his day so there really was no rush.

“And what do i get, hmm?” There had to be a worthy reward for him to put in that amount of effort. Otherwise he had no real reason to rush himself.

“What, isn’t being able to spend more time with me rewarding enough?” Kakashi narrowed his eyes. Of course it was. He would do anything to spend more time with Gai every day, but that wasn’t the offer Gai was making and he knew it. If that was the only thing he would get in return, Gai would have just said it up front. “Ok, fine. Well, if you finish all of your paperwork in twenty minutes I’ll buy lunch and dango. If you do it without complaining at all we can go hang by the river for a bit after too.”

That was all very tempting. All his favorite things to do with his turtle. He couldn’t think of anything to add to such a kind offer in return for a little effort.

Except…

“And you’ll let me sleep in tomorrow?” He asked, smiling when Gai groaned. “With added morning cuddles.”

“You know it’s better if you go in earlier, right?” Morning cuddles means late morning training. Gai hates starting his training late, even when he’s supposed to be putting his body under less pressure after nearly dying from opening the eighth gate during the war. “Besides, if you don’t show up on time Tenzo will come looking for you.”

Shaking his head, Kakashi leaned back in his chair.

“I could always tell him I ordered you to let me sleep in,” he offered. “He might complain to me about it, but it would get you out of trouble.”

“Except you seem to have forgotten one thing, smarty pants,” A playful smile pulled at Gai’s lips, and his eyes sparkled in a way that actually terrified Kakashi. “You’re not my boss. You can’t give me orders.”

Lies.

Horrendous, evil, terrible lies.

“I’m not your boss?” throwing a hand over his heart he gasped. This was unheard of. The Hokage, not the boss of a shinobi? Bullshit. “If i’m not your boss who is exactly, hmmm? Who’s keeping you in check?”

“That’s an easy answer,” rolling his wheelchair backwards, Gai turned towards the door and started to make his exit from the room. “Absolutely no one. Which is why I'm going to go bug Tenzo for the next thirty minutes. You better be done when i get back.”

No one? 

Was that the perks of being retired? Having no boss to listen to?

If so, he really couldn’t wait to hand this hat and the damn job off to Naruto as quickly as possible. He hadn’t been free of orders and expectations since he was five years old. 

It would be a nice change. Maybe he would be able to sleep in late and actually relax for once.

“Paperwork, Kakashi!” Gai’s words cut through his thoughts, pulling back to reality and the pile of paperwork still waiting to be finished. “And then freedom!”

No boss.

He laughed to himself.

Even when he was retired he’d still have a boss. After all, they could be eighty and barely able to function and there is no doubt in his mind that Gai will still be dragging him out of bed for morning training.

He’d just have to get all the cuddles he wanted after. 

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (5)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 8.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

⍟ A/N: So on to the next chapter! This is probably the longest I’ve written for this series! Anyway, please excuse my tarot reading skills, my knowledge is only limited to watching pick a car readings in youtube and google. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy! -Hyeri

⍟ Taglist: @shoshishua, @woozisnoots (I also want to thank @minkwans and @oprandomfeels for leaving such a nice messages on the tags in the previous chapter!! I dont want to sound creepy but i do comeback to them if i needed motivation to write! so thank you!!)

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

CILVEKAN ESPIONAGE TURNS PARLIAMENT INTO A BATTLEFIELD by Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung

The Porta Persa Edition, October 12th

Words that break like cannon shots, arguments that burn like incendiaries, bulwarks of statements that are hardly impenetrable—such is a terrifying and impressive sight to behold upon the ancient halls of the Parliament in these last few weeks. The fate of the two Cilvekan agents who were previously caught in Lower Efendel had been a divisive force upon the venerated legislative body of our nation; rendering them into a heated stalemate. 

Armed with wit and sound proofs, Conservatives led by Atlen County Representative Kang Jinho campaigned for stringent travel restrictions, as well as a thorough examination of all Cilvekan nationals entering and leaving Porta Persa. He contends that the security of this powerful nation must not be compromised for simple material gains. 

Pointing an accusing finger at the trading and tourism industry which has seen immense growth in profits due to the inflow of foreign immigrants and visitors into the country, Conservatives have been critical of lax travel regulations over the years in which they view, as in Rep. Kang’s words, as a means for ‘alien entities’ to ‘wreak havoc in this peaceful land’ and ‘further their covert operations to diminish and weaken the stability of Porta Persa’. According to Rep. Kang, it is rightfully so that sacrifices are to be made to ensure that no foreign powers would dare to assert their influence over this country. 

On the other side of the argument lie Santaragossa Assembly Representative Lee Jihoon, the flagship of both Libertarians and Moderates on this matter, who, with his rapid fire responses, have advocated for softer regulations and an extensive counterintelligence program instead. 

In his speech to Congress today, Rep. Lee disputes that economic factors are hardly simple, and should not be diminished into mere ‘increase of gains’. In his words ‘There are people who, if harsher travel restrictions are thus placed, will be left for wild dogs to eat, for the weather to beat and rattle their bones on the cold earth. With no means of a livelihood to provide for themselves, what will become of them? For us who have a roof to sleep in, and food on the table to eat, it is easy for us to say that travel restrictions are a minor inconvenience. Yet for these people, harsher travel restrictions are equivalent to a death sentence.’

He further advocates for a better counterintelligence program wherein proper and stronger defenses are to be implemented only at the appropriate areas, as this is not only cost effective, but also ensures that the livelihood and the human rights of all people in Porta Persa, whether be citizen, immigrant, tourist and whatnots are protected and venerated…

◇

“Lee Jihoon was truly frightening during that session. I swear to god, sitting there feels like he’s attacking me personally.”

Unlike the usual, the three of you were not relaxing comfortably outside the lush courtyards of the Royal Academy, eating carefully prepared lunches and enjoying the view. Instead, late morning sunlight poured from the open windows, illuminating the wooden desk and chair you were sitting on, silently listening to your friends.

To your right, sat said friends: Wonwoo and Soonyoung who were fresh from the printers, the rancid smell of ink sticking to their regal school uniform. On Soonyoung’s hands was the freshly printed draft of your newspaper, which was to be released the next day. 

He folded the newspaper and tossed it beside you on the desk. 

“He’s been like that for what? A week now, I reckon?” 

“Two, in my opinion.” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. He was the calmer kind of fellow. Soonyoung was more theatrical. 

“Oh good god, it’s been two weeks already?” Soonyoung exclaimed, his lips ajar. “No wonder Y/N is here all the time!”

Wonwoo glanced at you, who simply turned away and faced the open window. “Why are you here exactly?”

You continued to grind Alizarin berries on your portable mortar and pestle with a nonchalant look on your face. “I’m making your allergy medicine.”

“Not yesterday and in the last few weeks,” Wonwoo retorted back, giving you an inquisitive look. “Now tell me, is it because of Lee Jihoon?” 

Groaning, you continued to pour all of your irritation at the poor powdered berries in your mortar. “Must the reason always be Lee Jihoon?” 

“Well, why are you here then?” Soonyoung shrugged, glancing at you with raised brows. 

Exasperated, you sighed and left the mortar and pestle alone for once. In all honesty, the reason was indeed Lee Jihoon. After he saw your breakdown two weeks ago, you were avoiding him at all cost because you knew he was going to ask you about it and you were not one to divulge such sensitive topics. 

Of course, you wouldn’t let them know. “The way my room looks is just nauseating.” 

Soonyoung made an incredulous frown while Wonwoo snorted. 

“Right.” They both said.

Having childhood friends has its own disadvantages: you couldn’t really hide anything from them. Yet you wouldn’t tell them anything for that matter. Your room was indeed nauseating, spinning around and around as your vision blur if you just stay in one position for far too long.The way your stomach churns and your legs buckle because of the amount of suppressants you were taking to block your soulmate connection was something you simply cannot express into words. 

You stare at the red powder inside the mortar. The smell was making you lurch, reminding you of the suppressant, yet you expertly concealed it with a cough and a broad change of subject. 

“Aren’t we supposed to go somewhere today?” you asked, adding more berries to the mortar. 

“No, it’s on Friday, 3pm,” Wonwoo replied, checking his travel sized planner. “For some time, Soonyoung and I have been tracing documents from Luce Trading to see if they could give us some clues. But most of them inexplicably got lost or destroyed from last year’s flooding, but thankfully, Soonyoung found some in a novelty shop.” 

Upon hearing, you quirked a brow at them. “That is quite interesting. It is possible that something important is in those documents, especially when they had deemed it necessary to destroy them. It seems like fortune is on our side today.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Exactly my thoughts.”

“I reckon, those documents can finally settle the question of who their actual victims are,” the other male remarked with a considerate nod. “We can actually take a step forward in this investigation!”

You forced a smile. Truly, you were elated but the way your heart was palpitating wasn't feeling that great to you. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses once more, a habit he has acquired whenever he was thinking of something.

"Quite frankly, I still haven't forgotten what Jihoon had told me a few months ago," he started, fidgeting with his hands. "And god knows if he's telling me the truth or throwing us off the scent." 

"Oh that one..." Soonyoung exclaimed, nodding. You glanced at the two of them, looking betrayed. 

"Why have I no knowledge of this?" You asked, eyes shooting daggers. 

The two boys quickly exchanged glances and panicked.

"You haven't told Y/N?" Wonwoo asked the other male, who was beginning to pout. 

"What…I thought you told Y/N!" He replied, pointing at you. 

What seemed like a little misunderstanding was going to become a lot of bickering later on, so as you rolled your eyes, you put yourself between the two of them. 

"Alright, enough. Just tell me what Lee Jihoon said," you spoke sternly, hands on your hips.

“It’s not as straightforward as you think,” Wonwoo recounted. “Jihoon kept going in circles about our newspaper, Alex Fireflower—”

“Me?” you exclaimed, furrowing your brow.

“Yes, you. And the Gestalt case,” Wonwoo continued, acknowledging you. “At first, I was under the impression that he was simply inquiring what my thoughts were with regards to the Gestalt case as a fellow classmate, yet as it turned out, he appears to be hinting that it was a suicide case.”

A bewildered look was what you gave him, not understanding how a blatantly homicide case could possibly be a suicide. “I need you to expound further than that.”

Your friend shrugged. “That’s where the problem lies. We know that the Gestalts might be involved in the sex trafficking ring due to the judicial records we’ve discovered before, yet to what extent is a matter we have no knowledge of.”

“Oh, yes, that tax evasion case filed against Luce Trading that was suddenly dismissed by court with no apparent reason…it seems malicious, yet I still doubt that it should be considered a connection to the syndicate” Soonyoung remarked. 

“Those things usually happen yet everything involved in this case should be accounted for. Even including the possibility of it being a suicide,” Wonwoo continued. 

“Yet logistically speaking, how can it possibly be a suicide?” You asked, clearly unconvinced. “Lee Jihoon is merely giving us chaff.”

“That is the reason why I cannot just stop thinking about it. It’s perplexing.” 

“You’re just doing mental exercises, Wonwoo,” you dismissed him. “Trusting Lee Jihoon is definitely not advisable. He’s a politician. We might be unaware that he is in fact a part of that syndicate, and is simply playing cat and mouse with us.”

Wonwoo heaved a long sigh, leaning against the bedpost. “That, I won’t deny.”

“Rather than running on conjectures, we should proceed with the investigation instead,” Soonyoung interrupted solemnly. “We simply do not have the entire narrative.”

"I completely agree," you replied, leaning against the table as you go through another wave of stomach cramps with much composure. "Let's…lay out what we know first." 

The two of them nodded at you, which you considered a signal to begin.

"So, we know that some government officials are involved in a sex trafficking scheme. Why do we know that?" 

Soonyoung answered. "Because Wonwoo unintentionally eavesdropped a conversation between his father and a parliament member, who was trying to ask him to vote against the amendment of the Soulmate bond." 

"He offered my father membership to the syndicate among other things…" Wonwoo quietly continued, perusing his thoughts. 

"Right. We know that the Gestalt case is somewhat related to the syndicate. Why?" 

"For one, that parliament member who had attempted to lobby for my father's vote was asking him to vote against the amendment which has stemmed from the Gestalt case. It could possibly be a stretch but we should not deny it." 

Nodding, you continued. "And the fact that we had found out that Rene Gestalt had already died right after the High Court suspension. And had died under a different name and under a mysterious circumstance."

"If Rene Gestalt was a simple nobody, he wouldn’t have died in that manner," Soonyoung added. "And that tax evasion case shouldn't have been dismissed so easily."

"Luce Trading is more profitable than Kwon International, isn't it?" You asked, but Soonyoung immediately replied.

"Hey now! We had better sales for the past decade!" 

You giggled, "Alright, my apologies." 

"I still find it hard to fit the pieces though," Wonwoo interrupted. "Why Luce Trading? Why did Himi Gestalt die but not Rene? What exactly happened?"

The three of you exchanged glances.

"We need more information."

You leaned back, sighing as you felt the heaviness of the possible truth you have in your hands. Wonwoo and Soonyoung were pretty much the same. That’s why, more than anything, you didn’t want any sort of distraction, especially those that involve soulmate bonds.

“In the meantime, Y/N,” Wonwoo began, giving Soonyoung a look and then the two gazed at you with concerned expressions. “Are you truly, definitely, a hundred percent, alright?” 

You knitted your brows, and immediately replied. “I’ve never been better.”

“No…! No, what we meant is…” Soonyoung was the one who responded. “You…you fought with your father, didn’t you?”

It was a sudden inquiry, you can admit that, but you were not at least surprised they had asked. Your father must’ve gone to Soonyoung’s father and then they informed him of the matter. 

“A few weeks ago, yes,” you told them, nonchalant as you added more berries to the mortar. “I have decided to cut ties with him once and for all. He’s nothing to me now.”

You noticed that they were taken aback, but it was an expected reaction. The decision was indeed done in the heat of the moment, yet you didn’t feel anymore remorseful. 

“You do not have to worry about me. I have you two, and our newspaper is doing quite well in sales,” you reassured them. “Cutting him off is simply removing dead weight off my shoulders.”

Without any warning, Soonyoung pulled you to a tight embrace and Wonwoo followed soon after. You simply stayed still in surprise, as they continued to console you silently, knowing that you didn’t need any words to make you feel better. 

“Y/N, please know that we will always be here for you,” Wonwoo began. “We’ve been together since we were children, and we’ll always will be.”

“If you wish to get something off your chest, we are always here to listen. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

You grimaced at this, but hid it easily by burying yourself underneath their embrace. You’ll tell them everything someday, but now, you simply wish to brave the storm by yourself.

“I will.”

◇

"Jihoon!"

Heavy footfalls echo across the marbled hallways of the Parliament. Rows of white columns line up on the curve, the view of Porta Persa easily seen with just one turn of a head.

"Jihoon, please wait for a moment!"

Harsh steps that march through with controlled frustration, and another set which was running after them. Nobody was on sight other than two men who were adorned by their heavy purple robes, billowing with the wind.

"Lee Jihoon!" 

"What is it ?!" The other snapped, his eyes piercing and intense.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs sighed, his demeanor tinged with concern. The whole Parliament hearing was tense and unnerving, and Lee Jihoon seemed to be in the middle of the swirling storm. 

"I simply wanted to see if you are doing well," Joshua offered, his voice calm, yet the other simply scoffed.

"What do you suppose?" he replied, his tone filled with frustration and sarcasm. "If we lose next week's vote, it'll be all over!" 

Joshua reached out for Jihoon's shoulder, trying to help the other through his temper. 

"Alright Jihoon, listen to me. We still have time. We can still convince the others to vote against the bill." 

"But we need fifty more votes! Where in heaven's name are we going to find those?" He exclaimed and then groaned, resounding through the deserted hall.

"You need to calm down, Jihoon!" Joshua reminded, shaking some sense into him. "You're making a mountain out of a mole hill!"

The dark haired male blinked, stunned by the sudden loudness of his friend's voice. The high had finally subsided in his veins as he huffed and removed himself from Joshua's grasps. 

"Jihoon…"

"I apologize. I'm simply exhausted," he replied, sighing as he turned his back to the other. "While this issue has been particularly draining, my soulmate bond is eating my energy away as well." 

Joshua blinked, wondering what was the matter this time. They had left Jihoon in his dorm room that day as instructed, yet for some reason after that, he seemed to have become more snappish and gloomy. 

Jihoon sighed once more, probably the nth time for today. 

"She…she was crying when she arrived, you know. I have no inkling as to why but it did hurt me…seeing her like that," he continued, now more to himself than to Joshua. "I wanted to comfort her or do something, anything…but she pushed me away, both physically and mentally. It's been weighing on me since then."

Without a word, Joshua walked towards him and placed an understanding tap on his shoulder. "I wish I can offer you some help."

At this point, Jihoon simply shook his head with a downcast smile. "There is nothing we can do about it if she doesn't want me." 

Those words, as he said it, felt more painful than he had anticipated. Yet that was the truth—she had blocked him, in more ways than one. Jihoon wished he knew why yet he had already spent enough sleepless nights on it that he didn't need more.

"In the meantime, it would be nice if we had those fifty votes before the weekend."

◇

Oct. 14th 

Desmere District, Porta Persa

"So, it's here?" You asked, standing in front of a decrepit shop, flanked by two of your friends. "Are you sure it's here?" 

You weren’t really one to judge but the way the roof shingles were about to fall, the dull green paint peeling off the door, and the dusty shop window filled by various junk accumulated over the years, was telling a rather clear story. 

You could even  hardly read the name of the shop. 

“52nd Oppleton street, Esmond Novelty Shop….Yes, without a doubt this is the one!” Soonyoung replied cheerfully, grinning ear to ear, “Come on now! No time to waste!” 

Wonwoo glanced at you with a knowing look as he followed after Soonyoung through the door. Today seemed to be one of those days where Wonwoo was in a rather irritatingly playful mood. “You heard him. No time to waste now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t new for you to be the victim of their teasing, but you didn’t appreciate it either when it comes. Thus, as you rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, you threw your hesitation out of the window. Following closely behind, you heard the charming bell chime above you as soon as you entered, yet the dust which wafted through the air was not as charming as you had feared.

“Welcome to our shop! Feel free to look around and see if anything suits your fancy!” A male voice greeted you three, though you cannot make out a clear image of him as he seemed to be covered by the centuries old dust. 

“Ah, we’re actually looking for someone…” Soonyoung replied, fishing a piece of parchment inside the pocket of his vest. “Um…a Madame Adora?” 

While the three of you seemed to be unsure, the tall burly man, which you have now seen after the dust has settled, nodded in understanding. 

“Yes, yes. Please follow me. Her shop is at the back,” he replied and turned around, not waiting for you to respond. 

Exchanging curious glances, you followed close behind—carefully studying your surroundings as you did. There were a lot of books for one. Stacks upon stacks of leather tomes piled on top of another which was rather deadly if one wrong move was made. The shopkeeper, seemingly used to this dangerous environment, easily navigated his way through the path provided. 

There were a lot of miscellaneous items as well: old shoes, typewriters, some ornate desks which were long forgotten. Dirty porcelain dolls, dull grey candelabras, and even a baby grand piano covered with various knickknacks—essentially, this was a shop of extras: once loved, tossed away and buried under the sands of time. Their fate seemed to have given you a melancholic mood, yet there is little you can do to change it. 

“Where do you find all of these?” Wonwoo asked, curious as he perused over an old book about outdated potions. 

“There are numerous ways,” the man shrugged, dodging a stray pole which was protruding from a pile of junk. “Sometimes we buy them from people who move houses, sometimes they just give it to us, and some just find their way here.”

His words immediately reminded you of the thought that objects do have souls in them. They used to be someone’s important thing; they were once given meaning and context by the people who used to own them. This place had become their new home now, amidst the sea of other objects that were no different.

A light knock on wood snatched you from your thoughts as you averted your attention back to the matter at hand. The shopkeeper had stopped in front of a slightly ajar door, peeking carefully at the space. 

“Madame, these people wish to speak to you,” he called out, yet he was met by silence and a rather loud creaking of a chair being moved. A grainy “let them in” soon followed, though you were not as sure since it was just above a murmur.

Nodding, the shopkeeper moved and allowed you space to walk inside the room. With rather modest postures, the three of you silently entered in file, easily spotting a worn out loveseat, which was probably a bright emerald in its youth, to sit on. It was a rather small space, enough to be a breakfast room, with second hand furniture and astrology-related objects littered around to give a sense of mystique. 

“Robert, fetch those documents for me please,” the old woman ordered, who you hardly noticed with how she was almost covered by the wooden desk before her. The shopkeeper, who was apparently named Robert hummed and disappeared, closing the door shut. 

As soon as he was gone, you scooted on your seat to take a closer look of the old woman. Just as you had anticipated, Madame Adora was petit, but was made to look larger by her bulky dress adorned by stars and moons embroidered in metallic thread. It had the same fabric as her headpiece which was wrapped around her head like a towel. The one which caught most of your attention however, was the large dangling sun and moon earrings which were as big as her head. You wondered if they were as heavy as they looked. 

“Um…we’re—” Wonwoo began but was instantly halted by the Madame with just one hand. 

“I know what you seek, my dear children,” she began, her voice croaky. Probably from smoking a bit too much; you thought as you noticed the ashtray on her table next to the burning sage. 

The three of you raised your eyebrows, wondering what Madame Adora could’ve meant by her words. She seemed to be the eccentric type, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she busted out tarot cards and a crystal ball any minute. 

“You are on your path to fulfill a great purpose for humanity. It is a fate neither you nor this country can avoid,” she continued, making you glance at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. You wanted to ask them if she was sane, but out of courtesy, you decided to keep your mouth shut. 

“O-Of course…that—that’s what we’re trying to do,” Soonyoung replied awkwardly as he shifted on his seat. “But we do need to—”

“Yet be cautioned. This path does not offer refuge nor solace for the tired and weary. You will be accompanied by danger, deceit and the deep dark evils of this world. You will face adversaries stronger and larger than you had anticipated. Poke the bear, and its claws shall appear. Be strong and always seek for the truth.”

“Uh…yes, of course,” you replied, ending with uncertainty. “So the documents—”

“Ah, yes. Robert will be here soon,” she interrupted yet again. “While we wait, would any of you like a tarot reading?” 

“T-tarot reading?” Soonyoung exclaimed, as he leaned forward, not sure if he had heard it right. 

What a surprise. You simply smiled.

Interrupting your gloating, Soonyoung suddenly nudged you with his elbow, making you look at him. 

“What?” you asked, your voice a whisper. 

“Y-you do it, Y/N!” He replied, his expression not betraying the fact that he was a bit afraid. 

“What? Me? Of course not! Do you suppose I believe in such buffoonery?”

“Now, now. It’s just tarot cards, what harm could it possibly do to you? Attack you with a paper cut?” Soonyoung immediately replied, even though he was the one who got frightened first.

“Soonyoung is right, Y/N,” Wonwoo joined in, though you knew he was trying to gang up on you. “Besides, you wouldn’t be so cruel to deny this poor woman an income, would you?”

You closed your eyes, and breathed in—incredibly irritated by this game Wonwoo was playing today. However, you just didn’t have the energy to pick up a fight with how your stomach was beginning to churn once again; the suppressants returning with a vengeance after the pain relievers had worn off.

“Fine then! I’ll do it,” you seethed through gritted teeth as you stood up and walked towards the old woman. “I’ll do it.”

Now much closer, you saw Madame Adora smile warmly at you, which made you feel a bit guilty for getting angry. Sighing, you turn your gaze down to the wooden desk, unable to look into her eyes. 

“Boys,” the Madame suddenly called in her raspy voice. “Robert is waiting for you in the other room to look at the documents. Your friend will join you shortly.”

At this development, both Wonwoo and Soonyoung glanced at you, asking if it was alright for them to leave you. You smiled at them encouragingly. You’ll be fine. It’s just a tarot reading.

“Please don’t start without me,” you turned to them as they left the room. “I’m looking at you Kwon Soonyoung.”

Your friend simply grinned and gave you a salute. “Aye, aye!”

When the door was finally shut and you were left alone with the old woman, you glanced at her, wondering what was about to happen, or if she was going to do something.

“What’s your name, my dear?” she asked, something you hadn’t expected.

“Uh…I’m Y/N,” you soon replied, fiddling with a stray lock. You tried to deduce what the Madame was thinking, but nothing came to mind. She was eccentric and unpredictable; there was no use trying to predict the next set of events.

“Well then, please take a seat, Y/N,” she offered the armchair beside you which you quickly sat on. “Is this your first time getting a reading?”

“Yes, I…” you tried to evaluate your next words. “I’ve never been to a shop like this before.” 

She simply chuckled at you, pulling out a deck of cards from a drawer. “I understand, dear. We readers are few in number, yet believe it or not, just like magical practitioners, it is necessary for us to have proper licenses.” 

With the new information, you raised your brows and nodded, wondering why you haven’t known of this field before. As you continue to swim in your thoughts, Madame Adora began waving the smoking sage around the area. 

Knowing your curious look, she gave a small smile. “To cleanse the space, my dear. Sometimes we carry residual energy from people, objects or situations. It is necessary to cleanse before we begin the reading, so we can only pick up your own energy.”

Nodding once more, you didn’t really know what she was talking about. You were no magi, and your knowledge of magic was limited to alchemy and potions, which was grounded more into the material world than the metaphysical. 

“Alright then. What kind of reading do you wish to do?” She asked and you only gave her a blank look—completely innocent to the kind of readings a reader could perform. 

Without you needing to say a word, the Madame nodded in understanding and explained it to you. 

“A reading, in its base form, is a medium to provide some clarity. The Universe itself provides the answers. So if there is a question, a situation which you wish to seek clarity on, then we could begin with that.” 

Even before the old woman had finished talking, your head was already turning gears and cogwheels. You wanted to ask about the syndicate and the investigative reporting you were doing, yet for some reason, a niggling feeling inside of you was telling you it wasn’t the right question to ask. 

So you searched for it, concentrating on the feeling that you knew you could trust. However, at the end,  you were surprised to where it had led you. You didn’t want to ask about it. It was done, it was there. It didn’t matter anymore. But you felt it. It was so strong that it made shivers creep under your skin. You know you needed to hear it. 

You sighed. It’s just a tarot reading. No harm done. 

“I…uh…” you gazed downwards, finding your wrist wrapped in ribbon to be quite fascinating; deciding for one last time if this was indeed the decision you were making.

“My…uh, soulmate bond.”

You were not sure if she had heard you with how small your voice sounded, but there was no way you would repeat yourself. The way you finally said those words out loud felt like some sort of acceptance; an acknowledgement that a soulmate bond existed between you and that person. Before, it felt like it was simply a figment of your imagination.

To your surprise, the Madame nodded at you, smiling proudly. “Then it shall be. Let us begin.”

You nodded back, watching as she began to expertly shuffle the cards. 

“I will be doing a simple spread for you. A first card or cards would explain your energy, and then his energy. Afterwards, your strengths and weaknesses, then the state of this connection. Finally, we will be asking for the future of your soulmate connection.”

Unaware of how specific tarot can be, you only stared at her quite agile hands, not fully understanding everything. 

“Please be reminded, dear that energies do change. What is shown here is simply the current energy of the soulmate bond. You and your soulmate still do have the agency to change your future, yet for now, this is what it is.”

You definitely liked the sound of that. If tarot had been in any way fatalistic, you would’ve soured on it in an instant. You always believed that you had some semblance of control over your life, or at least you wanted to. 

Quietly, the Madame began drawing out cards, mostly cards which jumped out while she was shuffling. As she began to neatly arrange the cards into a grid-like form, you watched out for any reaction or expression from her. As it turned out, the most you could get was a slight raise of a brow. 

When it was all done, she flipped the deck over and placed it beside the spread. Peering overing, you saw that there were a lot of cards, some were upright and the others upside down. You wondered what these all meant.

“Well then, my dear,” she spoke to you, glancing all over the spread and then nodded in understanding. “Let us begin with your energy—Eight of Swords, Queen of Swords reversed and the Hermit reversed.”

“Are those good or bad?” you asked, curious, yet the old woman simply tightened her lips.

“What I could say is that, you may seem to be trapped in your situation right now, whatever your situation may be. Look at this woman in the Eight of Swords,” she replied, holding out the card to you. “ She is blindfolded and surrounded by these swords. She seems to be trapped and imprisoned. It could be your thoughts or what you are telling yourself, as swords symbolizes our mind and how we communicate. You could be suffering from self-doubt.”

Taking in her words, you could feel a lump forming in your chest, knowing that she was indeed right. 

“And then we have the Queen of Swords, which is you. When she is upright, she is a force to be reckoned with: intelligent, independent and the speaker of truth, however dear, we have her in reverse, which only shows the shadow side of this energy. The Hermit in reverse is telling me the same thing. My dear, I must apologize, yet this is what I see. As you continue to trap yourself with negative thoughts, you are slowly closing off your heart, becoming coldhearted and bitter, leading you into more loneliness and isolation. Whatever has caused you to become like this was incredibly painful that you have been pushed into fear, creating these defensive walls which then became the swords blindsiding you at this moment.”

You were silent, knowing full well what the old woman was talking about. You wanted to be angry at her for speaking a truth you were trying to avoid all this time, yet there was only sadness in your heart. 

“I’m so sorry dear, but this is what the cards say, but please rest assured that your energy could still change. Considering the strengths of this connection, I have high hopes that this soulmate bond will succeed,” Madame Adora consoled you, seeing the deep hurt in your eyes. 

“It’s fine,” you replied, swallowing the bile forming in your throat. “Please continue.”

Hesitantly, the Madame moved to the two cards beside the first ones she had read. “For your soulmate’s energy: the Two of Pentacles in reverse and the Hierophant.”

“As for now, your soulmate is in an imbalance. Look at how this person is trying to juggle the two pentacles in the card. He could hardly balance them at all. It could possibly be that your soulmate finds it difficult to manage their career and this connection with you, as this is a pentacles card which usually pertains to finances and the material world. Or, it could possibly be that they cannot find the balance between their traditional values and the constantly changing world with the Hierophant. Their views are definitely being challenged by you and your connection. Nevertheless, they seem to have felt your withdrawal and decided to focus on their career instead, which has now become two burdens on their shoulders.”

Making a downcast look, you felt guilty for making him feel that way. If he had indeed felt your pain through the bond, then he was no better than you. He was hurt too and the thought of you unintentionally inflicting pain on someone was something you were not keen on. 

“Now then, let’s  move to the strengths of this connection with the Chariot and Strength cards, which are incredibly powerful cards to have. Even this whole spread is powerful, considering how much Major Arcana you have.”

You leaned your head to the side. “Oh, is…is that so?”

“Yes. The Major Arcana holds more significance than the Minor Arcana, that is why having numerous cards from this suit could mean that this connection could be life changing for the both of you. With that said, having the Chariot and Strength implies that the both of you have a tremendous amount of strength and willpower. You and your soulmate are influential people who will stop at nothing to achieve your goals. That is why, even through all the pain and difficulties this bond will bring, this connection will survive.”

Not knowing what to make of that, you simply nodded. You were unsure if you do want this connection to survive. You hardly know your soulmate and you had no interest in doing so. You had long abandoned the idea that you will find love in a soulmate bond.

“Well now, look here, Y/N. I have been called upon to draw three cards for the weaknesses of this connection. We have the Five of Swords, the Nine of Swords in reverse and the High Priestess in reverse,” she continued, showing you the three cards.

“At this moment, there is conflict and disagreement in this connection. It could possibly be that the both of you have fought and that was the reason for your stagnant energy and his withdrawal, and with the Nine of Swords in reverse, usually this card means your anxieties and fears, and in reverse, it could be a release of those negative energies. However, in this reading, it seems like the both of you are hiding this inner turmoil in your hearts. Look at the image here,” the Madame pointed at the Nine of Swords.

“The woman is crying on her bed at night while these swords loom above her—she is crying alone, only the night is her companion, when everyone else is asleep and oblivious to her pain. In a way, you both are mirroring each other. You try to keep this conflict in your heart, making you feel disenchanted with this connection. You had lost hope of finding this love you seek. They on the other hand, try to bury themselves in their career or material possessions. They want stability and a sense of normalcy, yet cannot find it. The Universe has been providing divine guidance, yet with the High Priestess in reverse, the both of you cannot hear or perceive the signs.”

“This is further clarified with the Hanged Man and the Tower, both in reverse. These two cards represent the state of this connection, which further confirms the stagnation and fear of change in this connection. I felt this in the beginning when I was tapping to your energy, but dear, have you been blocking your soulmate bond?”

For some reason, you could only look at her and speak no words. There was fear in your eyes and guilt in your gut. It felt like you had done something unforgivable. You cast a glare to your arm, unable to utter any words of admittance. 

“Dear, may I see your wrist?” Madame Adora asked softly. You were hesitant at first but eventually gave in, pulling the ribbon that was wrapped around your wrist and placed it on the table. 

Gently, she examined the dull black bars on your skin as you watched curiously. You would ask what she was doing if she hadn’t begun speaking once again. 

“You are in pain, dear. Deep, deep pain you need to heal from. It’s not a fresh wound, but scars inflicted from so long ago yet continuously being pried open over the years. You keep on ignoring, burying these scars, hoping that time would help it heal someday,” she said, her fingers on the marks. 

“Yet when this soulmate bond came, it had forced you to face them even if you have no wish to, even if you were not ready to. This bond is making your fears rise to the surface—the fear of heartbreak and of disappointment. Thus, instead of waiting for someone else to do this to you, you decided to nip it in the bud. You try to convince yourself that you wish to be alone, that you are comfortable alone, yet deep inside you, you long for someone to share the heaviness which weighs down your heart.” 

Without even realizing, you had furrowed your brows and was glaring at the offending soulmate mark on your skin. There was a feeling deep inside you which refuses to accept the old woman's words. It was too painful to acknowledge the yearning that was deeply-rooted in your heart. It was too embarrassing to say that you had made a mistake.

You were simply protecting yourself. Those scars had long healed itself. You had already cut ties with your father and that was the end of the story. There is nothing more to talk about. There was no need to face any more of this. There is no need to reconcile with your soulmate. 

Gritting your teeth, you could sense anger rise deep inside of you. 

“But dear let me reassure you that despite everything, you will come together in the end. For the future of this connection, you have the Two of Cups which signifies a union. It is my soulmate card because as you can see, these two people are sharing, exchanging cups—”

—!!

You slammed your fist on the table abruptly, the cards jumping in disarray. Madame Adora looked at you sadly as you snatched your wrist away, holding it close to your chest. Your eyes were burning with rage, yet the old woman knew that that anger was rooted from deep longing and sadness.

“I don’t want it,” you muttered in a low voice, and then, after a short pause, began shouting as if it would relieve the guilt in your chest. “I don’t want it! I don’t want this! Could you please leave me alone!”

Without waiting for a reply, you ran out from the room, from the shop. You were in no capacity to continue the investigation with your friends when you are in this state of instability. You just want to leave and disappear for a while. 

Just for a while.

◇

Back inside the room, Madame Adora was greeted by Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who were surprised to know that you had left running out of the shop. 

“Ah, did Y/N lose her temper again?” Wonwoo asked as he had heard you shouting earlier. “We must apologize, Madame.”

“No, it is I who wishes for your pardon. I must have hurt your friend,” she replied. “Please give this to her as an apology.” 

The two men watched as the Madame pulled out a small box from one of the desk’s drawers and placed it on the table. They wondered what the Madame had said in the reading that made you lose composure. 

“We will deliver this to her immediately,” Soonyoung replied as he took the box and dropped it inside his pocket. “And thank you for the documents.”

“It is meant for you. I had been called upon to buy the desk which it was stored in, and when you came to this shop in search for such an item, I knew it was meant for this purpose,” Madame Adora replied, intertwining her fingers together. “But more than that, please watch over Y/N.”

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung exchanged glances. “W-we will.”

“Simply watch over her and give her support. She is going through something which only she can resolve.”

As the Madame said those words, her gaze was caught by the single card by her side. It was the card at the back of the deck—usually meant to summarize the energy of the whole reading. 

It was the Lovers.

◇

It was already dreadfully dark when you had decided to return to your dorm room.

The wisteria trees were already a midnight grey, the unlit path, a dark purple. Only a few streetlamps offered illumination through the pitch-black night as you waded through the campus in silence.

You took your time alone—wandering on random alleyways, sitting on deserted park benches, watching people pass by as they live their own lives, with their own problems. Nothing seemed real during those hours of isolation in the midst of the crowd. It was like the pain was too far away for you to reach; the events from that afternoon too far away to be reality.

Yet you knew you needed to return somehow. Thus, with eyes exhausted from crying tears unshed, and the ribbon you used to conceal your soulmate bond in your hands, you opened the door to your dorm room and saw its gauche splendor in shameless display.

With a sigh, you wrapped the ribbon on your wrist haphazardly, not caring if not seemed sloppy as long as the black bars were far from your sight.

Walking to the common room, you scanned the area for your roommate, wondering if he was asleep or still at his office on a Friday night. It would be better if you didn’t see him, you thought. There would be less explaining to do.

Yet the common room was depressingly empty. It had occurred to you that you never even spent much time in there as much as you would’ve liked. Was it simply because you were avoiding him or you were just not interested in sharing the same space with him, you didn’t know.

As you move past the wooden dining table and towards the kitchenette for a glass of water, you bumped into something fleshy and soft which definitely made you shriek and fall onto the floor in a painful thud.

“What…on earth?” you muttered, gradually coming down from your sudden adrenaline rush, your sight refocusing.

To your astonishment, you found one Lee Jihoon lying on the floor, obviously drunk by the whisky which was once inside the bottle he was clinging on to for dear life. Apprehensively, you crawled towards him, to check if he was still breathing. Yet before you could touch him, his dark brown eyes were on to you, still cold and jaded as the nights of December.

“Jihoon—“

You were about to reprimand him for bringing in prohibited alcohol inside the dorms and for sleeping on the floor during a cold autumn day, when you realized that his skin was red. Bright red.

Concern immediately shoots up to your brain as you reach out to him.

“Jihoon!” You exclaimed, shaking him to sobriety. “Jihoon! Are you intolerant to alcohol?”

Despite your concern, he could only hum groggily. “It’s…fine.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? How many bottles have you drunk?!” You asked, looking around and saw several bottles of the same whisky he was holding. “Oh god, you even chose one with high alcohol content! You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“It’s…fine, Y/N. I only had a few… just a few…”

He simply groaned in reply, lying comfortably on the floor without a care in the world. You only stared at him in exasperation, brushing your hair as you sighed.

You felt an urge to just leave him like that on the floor until dawn breaks. He can take care of himself, and being drunk probably isn’t something new to him. Yet you knew you can’t just do that. Whether or not he was Lee Jihoon, you had the obligation to not leave him to die of alcohol poisoning or of hypothermia.

The last one was a stretch, you admit but still, there was no way you could leave him like that as someone who tries to be compassionate at every point of day. At least, the sofa was a lot better than the cold floor.

Reaching for his arm and placing it around your shoulders, you tried to carry Jihoon to the sofa just a few steps away. Yet you hadn’t anticipated how heavy he actually was as you barely dragged him across the room, huffing and panting. You were not one with the best fitness

“Come on, Jihoon. Hold yourself up!  You’re simply too heavy for me to carry!” You exclaimed as you tried not to stumble on the way.

“Mmn…I’m sorry...I’m trying…” he drawled, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused—obvious indications that he has drunk too much for his own good.

Just a little bit…

Taking that one step remaining, you immediately tossed Jihoon to the soft sofa with a long and exhausted sigh. He only groaned, his hair in a disarray. You had only noticed now that he still had his work clothes on: a grey suit piece sans the tie which he must’ve tossed somewhere in the immediate past.

He had his eyes closed as you sat closely to him, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. Jihoon seemed to be in peace this way, far from the constant creases in his brow or on his lips. Brushing away a stray lock of hair from his face, you noticed the angles on his face, the fullness of his cheeks, the rosiness of his lips. Was he always this familiar to you? It was a question you had no immediate answers to. Yet you had never anticipated to end your exhausting day with a drunk Lee Jihoon, yet that’s where you are now.

“I should give him some medicine to ease the redness,” you muttered to yourself as you stood up, your mind already listing the ingredients you needed to make one tablet, but before you did, a hand had stopped you in your tracks.

“Please…don’t leave me,” his voice, still lethargic, echoed behind you and you were forced to turn, your eyes captured by his unrelenting gaze.

“Jihoon…” you spoke softly, returning to your seat beside him as you helped him sit up clumsily. “But you’re still flushing.”

“Doesn’t matter…” he replied back, leaning unsteadily until you caught him in your arms. Now he was peacefully resting his head on your shoulder, burying himself into your embrace.

“J-Jihoon…?”

To say that you were wholly surprised was an understatement. You were floundering and unable to make anything out of this situation. This was something incredibly out of character for the Lee Jihoon you thought you knew.

“Y/N…I must….must apologize,” he began, which definitely made you furrow your brows in bewilderment. “I’m so sorry… I—I failed you…”

You stared into the air incredulously, not understanding what page Jihoon was in.

“You didn’t fail me,” you replied back. “You didn’t fail anyone, Jihoon…”

However, it seemed like your words fell into deaf ears as he snuggled up to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so sorry…Y/N…please…please forgive me…”

Concluding that this was probably one drunk confession, you allowed him to find comfort in your presence, placing a consoling hand on his back as he continued to apologize to you.

This was a side to him you hadn’t expected to see. It was vulnerable, raw and unapologetically real—words you never thought you’d associate with Lee Jihoon. Yet there you were, as you hugged him back, finding solace in his arms as well when there was no one in the world you could share your burdens with.

“It’s okay, Jihoon…” you replied to him as you closed your eyes. “At least you tried, and it’s good enough for me.”

“Yet…yet…why can’t I feel you…?” he cried out, his voice clearly in pain. “Why can’t I reach you…? I…I always…alwaysss wanted to know you…to hold you like this…”

“Jihoon…”

You wished there was something you could say or do, yet you didn’t even know what he was talking about. It felt like the two of you were talking in a circle of riddles; finding yourselves in different pages.

“Y/N…please don’t be angry…please….please….don’t reject me,” he continued on as if in a trance. “I’m so sorry….so sorryyy….”

There was something in his words, or the way his voice shook that had pierced right through you. You wondered what you had done to him to plead to you like this. Yes, you did push him away a few weeks ago, yet that was the farthest you had gone to hurt him. You couldn’t understand what was happening, nevertheless, you still felt called upon to take action.

Moving your hand, you brushed his soft locks gently.

“I won’t reject you, Jihoon. I won’t push you away. I promise you.”

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PARLIAMENT PASSES BILL CRACKING DOWN ON CILVEKAN NATIONALS by Jeon Wonwoo

The Porta Persa Edition, October 27th

 In a historic vote, the Parliament has passed a bill on harsher travel restrictions for Cilvekan nationals as well as an extensive program which allows for the investigation of all Cilvekans in Porta Persa. This bill marks a tantamount win on Rep. Kang Jinho and his Conservative party—warranting a speculation of a bid on the Prime Minister seat.

This soon-to-be law highlights restrictions set on the amount of Cilvekan nationals leaving and entering Porta Persa wherein local governments can monitor their actions inside the country. It is also in the prerogative of the local government to deny entry to any Cilvekan wishing to enter.  According to Rep. Kang, it is necessary to be able to detect any sort of preemptive strike against Porta Persa to avoid endangering the security of the people.

This bill also boasts a program which, in conjunction with the restrictions, shall implement a vast inspection of all Cilvekan nationals present in the country. They are to undergo a thorough investigation conducted by the police and shall be warranted to arrests if ill-intentions against Porta Persa is proven.

With this bill, according to the Parliament, the government shall be able to ensure that the national security of Porta Persa shall not be threatened by any means, even if it meant sacrificing privacy and material gains. Sacrifice is and always will be inevitable on the road to peace…

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In the pitch black darkness of the night, echoes of footfalls resounded across the streets of Porta Persa. There was breaking of glass, breaking of wood, and shouts of women. 

Fear was high in the scent of the night. The streets of Porta Pera enshrined by men and women—rounded up in handcuffs and tied by accusations. Half the town was awake and afraid, half the town asleep and aloof. 

The night had just began.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

-Hyeri